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Weakness

Well, I'm finally finished. This story took up the better part of the last two months, and it I didn't think I'd ever get it done. :) It's the sequel to my story Rage: The Thunder Rolls, and it's advisable that you read that first or you'll be totally lost. I have to give thanks to the people who gave me advice, suggestions and helpful bruises information (though it's been so long you probably don't remember): Lora, Annie, Ice, Lucky, Sher, Magsy, Amanda, Lisa, and Alice. Also thanks as always to my betas, Amanda and Lisa.

Without anymore blab from me, I'll go on into the story.

Weakness
by Tanya Reed

Prologue, Part 1

So, he knew.

The thought whirled around in a mind numb from discovery. Meg sat at her desk staring at the doorway where, moments before, a living breathing being had stood. In fact, she saw him there still, his face and eyes revealing something she just could not believe. The tightness in her chest defied it and tried to dismiss it, but it wouldn't go away.

Yes, he knew; he knew of her shame; he knew of her weakness. She wondered what it was she had done to betray herself. What was it exactly that had called to him, ripping away her carefully constructed mask? Maybe she'd never know.

Her face, which had gone completely white at his declaration, now flooded with color as full realization hit. What he must think of her! How could he look to her for leadership when she had put herself in a position he would never put himself in? The heat of her cheeks deepened and she wished she had some cold water to put on them.

The duality she felt wasn't helping, she admitted to herself, biting her lip and looking down at her twined fingers. Part of her wanted to go to him. It saw what Fraser had done for her--he had made Glen Burrell feel every bruise and bit of pain she felt. For that, she ached to take Fraser into her arms and hug him until he knew how much his caring meant to her. Another part of her was afraid she'd never be able to look him in the eyes again.

With a soft sigh, she acknowledged that when it was still just a vague impossibility, something in her yearned for Glen's assaulter to be Fraser. She thought that in some way it might be a manifestation of a deep caring for her. Now that her wish was a reality, all there was was a slight feeling of shame and a deep confusion as to what was to happen next. Where did she go from here? It was ridiculous to think of her avoiding him for the rest of the time served together. It was impossible to imagine that they could ever be as they had been. There were so many things that he could do, and so many she could do as well. But what was the right thing? Meg had no idea. Maybe it would be best to pretend nothing had happened, that she had not seen that flash of pure honesty in Fraser's eyes--just like she had after the kiss. The thought of hiding behind another thick mask and acting as if there had been no Glen Burrell seemed appealing, but Meg didn't know if she could do it this time. Just the thought of his name caused a shudder to go through her body. It might be easier if she had a refuge--any refuge--but she didn't. Everytime she entered her apartment, HE was there, tainting the very air she breathed. His presence was like a physical, malignant thing.

Then the images came again, as they did everytime she allowed herself to think of him. She rushed to block them, but she just wasn't quick enough. They came slowly at first, then faster and faster until her mind was a torrid river of angry leers and remembered pain. Her ears filled with the sound of flesh against flesh and she desperately wondered if Fraser could see the things she saw. And how could she work side by side with him if she knew that he might? When he knew that she could be weak? That she was fallible?

The images grew sharper, biting at her soul. Her hands began shaking again, and she clenched them in disgust, fighting for control.

"Stop it. Stop it," she hissed, pushing at them with all of her will.

They receded with agonizing slowness, fighting her every bit of the way. She held her breath, not wanting to waste any energy on breathing. She hated that they could control her, that not only had she proven her weakness once but she continued to do so at least a hundred times a day. A voice came and mingled with the pictures. It was not Glen's voice, but that other, taunting one.

"What's wrong? Imagination getting away with you? You're pathetic."

Goaded into anger by the voice, Meg managed to get herself back in line. Unclenching, she got up from her desk, ignoring the shaking in her legs.

She had to leave. Meg couldn't stay there pretending everything was all right--especially knowing that Fraser was so close. She knew that the knowledge in his eyes could break her. It was more than her raw nerves could stand. The problem was that she couldn't stay at the Consulate and she certainly couldn't go home. With the images and feelings her livingroom evoked--and that wasn't counting the bathroom--it was painful to be there. Tightening her jaw, Meg's eyes wandered down to look at the little nicks scattered along her hands. She wasn't looking forward to the mess that would great her. Had that only been last night?

Meg took her purse from the top desk drawer and searched for her compact. Peering into the tiny mirror, she made sure she looked presentable. Carefully, she touched up her mascara and the cover up on her bruise. The circles under her eyes, she couldn't seem to do anything with, so she gave up.

Squaring her shoulders, she put on her Inspector's mask, preparing to tell Turnbull she was going to lunch. If she was lucky, he and Fraser wouldn't burn down the Consulate while she was gone.

Prologue, Part 2

Why had he done it, Benton Fraser wondered, sitting at his desk, staring at the worn, scored wood. It would have been so easy to walk right out of her office, pretending that he had never heard the name Glen Burrell. He could have denied the whole thing, and she would never have known, but he hadn't. Something had made him turn and speak. What it was, he would never know, but that wasn't as important as what would happen next. How could he face her when she knew that he had lost control?

With a sigh, Fraser got up from his desk and began to pace. His mind wandered to the Inspector down the hall. He wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Absently, he rubbed a knuckle along his eyebrow, remembering the look on her face when he had all but admitted his involvement in the assault. There was shock there, shock mingled with horror and something...was it fear? With all his heart, he hoped that it was not. The thought that she might fear him was pure torture. And what if she asked for explanations? What was he supposed to tell her? That the thought of someone hurting her enflamed him so much that he lost his senses? That he had physically overpowered someone because he was angry?

Fraser's cheeks began to burn with shame at the memory. Without trying, he could feel Burrell's fragile bones under his knuckles and the satisfaction of a blow hitting home. And he knew if he had the opportunity, he would do it again. That was the most embarrassing thing of all, knowing that--after all these years and all the time invested in walling away his emotions--he could still lose control. Completely. Totally. He wondered if Burrell would die. A queasiness in his stomach followed the realization that he didn't care.

The awareness of his weakness was like a slap in the face. He could hear his father's voice, admonishing him for letting emotion overrun reason.

"You let that man's actions make you irrational, son. That's not the way I taught you. Even now, his memory makes your insides clench. Let it go, Benton. Let it go."

The voice, as imagined now as it had been real in Burrell's apartment, made Ben think about the past. He had been young when pain made him learn to distance himself from his feelings. As he grew older, the distance grew into a wall so thick that no one could penetrate it--not until her. Victoria.

Thoughts of Victoria turned his hot blood to ice. She had broken down his wall, taken everything he was, and then deserted him. He had paid dearly for his lapse in judgment, and he swore he would never lose control again...But then, his heart had never anticipated Meg.

Meg. Dark hair, snapping eyes, and the smell of home. She was sharp and hard and then suddenly it all fell away and, for a moment, softness and sadness would be glimpsed. He hadn't understood why she thrilled him or why he longed to be near her even if it was just to be pushed away, not until he realized what someone had taken away from her.

There was a deep vulnerability in Meg, hidden under layers of calm professionalism and cold ambition. He longed to love the vulnerability away and show her her worth in his eyes. A sudden desire to go to her office and take her battered body in his arms warred with his shame.

This thought made him figure out what it was that had ultimately broken his control. It was a desire to prove both to Meg and to himself that he would never allow anyone to treat her with disrespect. It was also a cry of outrage against someone who would treat something with rough, harsh hands that he yearned to give gentle caresses.

Once more, Fraser's emotions turned, thoughts of her assault making anger return. This time, though, it was a controlled, simmering anger. He would not give in to his weakness again.

Taking a deep breath and trying to think about paperwork instead of dark haired ladies and handsome, deceptive men, Fraser sat back in his chair. He was acutely aware of Meg nearby and could not help but wonder again what she was doing, what she was thinking.

And he also wondered if he'd ever be able to face her again.

End of prologue

Constable Benton Fraser moved down the quiet hallway from his office to that of his superior officer. It was early in the morning, about two hours before anyone except him usually got in. He was a bit surprised that Inspector Thatcher had arrived so early, though on reflection, he shouldn't have been. He knew she wasn't sleeping, although she would never admit to it.

As he approached her door, reluctance gripped him. Ever since the day before, a thick, awkward silence had permeated the Consulate. He and the Inspector had been avoiding each other, and the few times he had glimpsed her, she had turned a blank face away. He regretted the impulse that made him speak. Things might have been easier if they could go on pretending nothing happened. They were good at pretending.

"Come in."

Fraser walked into the Inspector's office a little warily, not knowing what to expect. He looked down at his feet as he stood at attention, hoping he wouldn't have to look into her face. She was seated at her desk. He heard her rise, but could not see her, facing the floor as he was.

"Fraser," Her voice was cool and calm. Nothing in it indicated that she was repulsed by him or harbored any feelings she hadn't the day before. Finally, he dared to look up.

He studied her face earnestly, noting that, despite its stern mask, the skin was very pale and dark smudges marred the area under her eyes. The bruise on her cheek was barely visible, but he remembered it vividly in his mind. It had been his first indication that something had happened. In a strange way, it was the cause of all of the events of the past two days.

"Ma'am?" he asked, aware that she had been waiting for a response.

"There are some papers that I need you to sign."

He nodded, gazing into her eyes. A hand seemed to reach into his stomach and squeeze as he realized he saw nothing there. Not just the absence of emotion or the facade of complete professionalism, but nothing. It was like some deep void that he could fall into forever. Or maybe it was as if she had slipped shutters over her eyes. She was still behind her desk.

Fraser came forward and took a pen from her outstretched fingers. Their hands touched and he wanted to curl his around hers. He bent to sign the papers, his whole body tingling with the awareness of her.

It only took seconds for him to finish his task. Laying the pen on her desk, Fraser looked up.

"Thank you, Constable. You are dismissed."

He didn't want to leave. He had been so afraid to face her because of what he had done. His shame had made him avoid her as his mind played scornful images. Now that he was with her, seeing the awful, empty look of her, everything that had made him lash out in rage came back to him. Her dignity and self confidence had been stolen. Her face refused to show it, but her body screamed it.

"Are you all right, Ma'am?" His voice was quiet but firm.

She stilled at his question and he could almost feel panic pulse through her. Her face remained passive though, except for a slight tightening around her eyes.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked icily.

Fraser swallowed nervously but continued, "I was inquiring as to your well being. How are you feeling? Are you well?"

"Of course I'm well. Why do you ask? I've been over the flu for days."

The fact that she was still hanging on to the flu excuse annoyed him. After all, they had had a moment of complete communication.

"We both know that you are still suffering from the effects of why you called in sick a couple of days ago--and that it was not the flu."

He faced her across the desk, acutely aware that they were alone in the building. Meg stood behind the barrier as if she drew strength from it. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

He could tell his words had some effect. Though her Inspector face stayed on, it was frayed at the edges, and she wasn't able to keep expression out of her eyes. As their mists faded away, he saw all the things he had dreamed about--and so much more. At least in his dreams, he had been able to bring her into himself, enfolding her slight body with his. He had been able to take it all away. The pain there now hit him almost like a physical blow.

"You cannot hide behind that desk forever", he said softly, then waited for an explosion. It never came.

Meg swallowed. Slowly, as if there was a lot to fear beyond it, she moved around the desk. Her eyes never left Fraser's, and he closely watched her face. A desire to kiss her bruised cheek almost overpowered him.

The only sign of the tenseness clutching his body was the clenching of his hands at his side as he ordered almost gruffly, "Admit it."

"Admit what, Constable?" He could hear her attempt to keep it steady, but her voice quavered.

He strode forward until his body was standing so close to hers that he could feel her heat. Her eyes widened but she stood her ground. Searching her face, praying that he was not ruining whatever chance they had of either a relationship or working together normally, Fraser placed gentle hand on her shoulders. He wasn't quite sure if it was to pull the truth from her or to keep her together.

"All right, Fraser," she said tightly, her whole body stiffening beneath his fingers. Meg's eyes left his face to stare at his upper arm as she spoke. "I was weak. Is that what you wanted to hear?...A man came into my apartment and beat the crap out of me, and all I could do was take it. I couldn't even fight back because I was too inebriated to stand up. Is that enough, or do you need some more, Constable?" She looked up at him once more, her eyes flashing with anger and self loathing. He almost flinched as she spat out, "I could not defend myself and so he hit me again and again and again and...I am a disgrace to this uniform and I am a disgrace to myself. I came in this morning to resign and I plan on completing that task before the day is over. You won't have to worry about having a commander who cannot come through in a crisis. There, I've said it. Are you happy?"

The look on her face cut right into Fraser's heart. Without thinking, he raised one of his hands to touch her bruised cheek. "I could never be happy knowing that you are in pain."

Meg flinched and began to pull away from him. Mentally cursing Burrell, Fraser knew that he could not let her go. If he did, he would lose her. Even worse, she would lose herself.

Throwing caution and rank completely to the wind, he took her hand, raising it and pulling the sleeve from her arm. Meg bit her lip, but--as if too tired to fight--let him. Fraser studied the bruises there, wondering how he could ever have believed her lie about the coffee table. He could even see the imprint of five fingers.

Determined to finish what he had started, he softly kissed her arm, three times tasting bruised flesh. He felt Meg tense, but she did not pull away.

"Will you ever respect me again, Fraser?" she asked almost wistfully.

He raised his face to look in hers so she could see his earnestness. "For that to occur, I'd have to lose my respect for you first, Ma'am."

It seemed strange to be calling her 'ma'am' after giving her tender kisses, but he was hoping his mixture of caring and respect could show her the way to forgiving herself.

"But what about this?" She gestured at the arm he was still holding. "I was weak. Senior officers can't afford to be weak. Everyone depends on them, and what they do in stressful situations is an example to everyone underneath them."

Fraser took a shallow breath. Maybe it was time to do some admitting of his own. "You know what happened with Victoria, don't you?"

Meg looked puzzled.

"Before you came, when I was framed...when Ray, uh, shot me..."

Her brows drew together as she replied, "Some. I know you loved her, and that you were shot bringing her back."

Scenes flashed behind his eyes, and he whispered, "I was going with her. She framed me...tried to kill Dief...threatened to kill me...so many...evil things...and I was willing to give up everything to be with her." He cleared his throat and paused a moment before continuing. "I loved her so much that I overlooked everyone's pain--even my own. When she left, I was devastated...I almost didn't make it back.

'I could not fight her. I was sucked into her world and almost lost myself and anything that meant something to me. A victim." He looked into her shocked brown eyes. "Does knowing that I was willing to turn to a life of crime for someone who would have killed me without a second thought lessen your respect for me?"

He waited, almost holding his breath, for her reaction. She must have seen the whole truth in his eyes because her free hand tentatively twined with his. Her touch surprised him, sending a warmth through him that sent the chill that was Victoria fleeing. Gently he squeezed.

"You *are* human."

"Yes, ma'am, and so are you. Come back from that place where you've locked yourself in torment. Forgive yourself and let it go...Oh, Meg, come back to me." The last line came out against his will. He saw the shock of it go over her features and felt the heat if brought to his cheeks. Still, it seemed to be the right thing to say. Meg began to speak.

"We were friends in high school." Her shaky voice was so low, Ben could barely hear her. "He was a brain and people teased him, but I thought he was handsome. Something in his shy smile touched me. We never dated, but we helped each other through some pretty rough stuff. He was always such a gentle person..." Her voice cracked and Fraser moved to put his arms around her. She didn't protest. "...When I ran into him here in Chicago, I couldn't believe it. He said he spent half of his childhood here and comes quite often. We went out a couple of times and he was the perfect gentleman...I ...I didn't see it coming. As soon as he had a couple of drinks...He was so strong, I couldn't...couldn't *do* anything. I hit almost every piece of furniture in my livingroom. I hate to go home..."

Ben's arms tightened as her voice moved towards tears. He didn't say anything as he patiently waited for the storm to come. He knew she needed this. In fact, he saw this moment over and over in his dreams.

"How could I just take it, Fraser? Why couldn't I fight back? I can't trust myself anymore. I'm always afraid. I'll never be safe again!"

She started trembling just moments before the tears came. Fraser held her and willed his strength and belief in her into her shaking body. Slowly, she let go of her control completely, clinging to him and letting him stroke her hair.

Softly, Fraser began to speak. "You are the strongest woman I know, Meg. You are a good commanding officer, knowledgeable and efficient. You were able to tell a superior officer to stop his advances, despite the fact that you thought it might cost you your job. You went with Randall Bolt without protest, knowing that he could kill you before you had a chance to get away. You did the one thing everyone in the 27th has wanted to do for years but none had the courage--you gave Agent Ford a bloody nose.

'You are beautiful and intelligent and caring, and so brave. You make my heart swell with pride for you, knowing what you have accomplished. You are at home with heads of state and royalty, but field work and rough living does not daunt you. There is no one more qualified for this job than you. The Consulate would fall apart without you."

He paused, listening to her tears and enjoying the sensation of her being in his arms before continuing, "Just because you were hurt does not make you weak. It was not your fault. If anyone in this scenario is weak, it's him. A desire to hurt someone is a weakness. I know...I gave in to it."

Her arms tightened around him at this and she mumbled through her tears. "That's my fault too."

"You are not responsible for my actions."

Her sobs were quieting, so he pulled from her slightly. Tears were still flowing from her eyes, and her body was still giving an occasional little lurch in response to a sob, but her trembling was ceasing. He reached out and brushed tears from her cheeks with his fingertips. She reached out too, touching a place he had forgotten was sore.

"We match."

Fraser smiled and she smiled shakily back. An insistent voice told him to kiss her, but he ignored it. He settled for giving her another quick, firm hug instead. Then, very reluctantly, he let her go.

"I believe you have some papers to fax to Ottawa, ma'am."

She blushed and turned from him towards the desk. He could see her arms move as she wiped the remainder of tears from her face.

"You're right, Fraser. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." He had only gone three steps before her voice caused him to stop and look back.

"And Fraser...thank you."

Elaine sat silently staring at the bruised and battered body in front of her. His face was swollen and full of abrasions, nothing like the handsome image of him she carried in her mind. She wondered who could have done such an awful thing to her friend. It must have been someone very strong because Glen was not what she would call a small person.

Her mind wandered back to the first time she had met him. Tommy had brought him home one day, a shy, quiet boy with soft dark hair and solemn brown eyes. Elaine had fallen in love with him that day, her whole seven year old heart going out to him. That had been a long time ago, and her feelings had since changed from ardor to kinship. She loved Glen like a brother, and it hurt her to see the way someone had abused him.

Gently, Elaine ran a hand over his face. Even in his unconscious state, he winced. It tore at her heart. Looking at him, she couldn't help but see the little boy who would do anything to make her laugh.

"I hope they find the jerk that did this to you."

If he would just wake up. Elaine had been waiting patiently with him all night, keenly aware of Huey and Dewey also there in the Waiting Room. Burrell was an important businessman and Welsh had warned them not to leave the hospital unless he was dead. Though he was looking to prestige and not friendship, the Lieutenant seemed to want to get the creep as much as Elaine did.

Elaine's hand moved down from her friend's face to his motionless hand. There was an abrasion on his knuckles, and she hoped that meant he had gotten in a shot or two. She ran her fingertips over his long fingers and down underneath so she could hold on to his hand. Surprise went through her when he gently squeezed back.

Her eyes went immediately to his face. "Glen?"

"Elaine?" His voice was rough and barely above a whisper, but it was there.

Elaine's heart leapt as he opened bruised and blackened eyes.

"Where...where am I?"

"There was an incident, in your apartment. Do you remember?" she asked softly.

Glen thought for a moment before replying, "He...he hit me."

"Yes, he did. I've got to go get the nurse. Will you be all right here alone?"

He nodded slightly and loosed her hand. She got up, excitement and relief tingling in her body. Glen was going to be all right!

Ben walked into the 27th with his usual calm and poise. None of his thoughts showed in the sereness of his face or in his shuttered eyes. People spoke to him and he answered without even hearing their words.

After his 'meeting' with the Inspector, Ben left the Consulate to give her some time to accept the fact that she had lost control in front of him. Wandering aimlessly, his feet brought him to the park where he and Dief often walked together. Sitting there among the trees, Fraser realized for the first time that he had done something illegal. He had assaulted someone and then walked away from his crime. He had been deceitful by keeping the fact to himself and, in essence, forcing Ray to lie for him. Biting his lip, it came to him that someone was no doubt looking for Burrell's assaulter. Fraser was a criminal that hadn't been caught yet.

Not that he was sorry. As he sat there, he tried to be, but all his mind could come up with were the haunting images of Glen striking Meg in anger. Those pictures tormented him, filling his mind whenever his grip on control loosened. No, he couldn't be sorry, but he could do the right thing.

The next thing he knew, he was walking familiar hallways, talking to familiar faces, and hoping they couldn't tell that the situation was far from familiar.

He noticed with relief that neither Ray nor Elaine were at their desks. He had a fuzzy memory of Ray saying that she was Burrell's friend. Fraser hoped that she would forgive him, that she would understand.

Welsh's voice grunted, "Come in," when Fraser knocked on his office door. The constable noticed that the lieutenant was eating one of his huge cold cut sandwiches, and he looked a little annoyed at being interrupted.

"Constable Fraser."

"Yes, sir."

Ben had come to like the gruff lieutenant in the time he'd known him, and that made this moment all the harder.

"Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but I find it necessary to inform you that I have committed a crime."

Lieutenant Welsh chewed slowly, looking thoughtful. After swallowing, he asked, "Are you saying that you want to turn yourself in, Constable?"

"That would be correct, sir."

"What for this time? Jaywalking?"

Fraser detected amusement in his eyes, though his face remained serious. What was he supposed to say next? Ben rubbed a knuckle along his eyebrow, breaking eye contact.

"Well, you see, sir...I,uh...I've done something that is decidedly frowned upon in both of our countries. Especially for me, as a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, to have done the thing I did, well, it's very complicated. I imagine you'll want to arrest me immediately, sir, that is, if you believe..."

"What are you trying to get at, Constable?"

His momentum broken, Fraser stopped speaking. He stared helplessly at the lieutenant for a moment before trying to organize his thoughts. When he opened his mouth again, this time to get to the point, he was interrupted by the forms of Huey and Dewey barreling through the door.

"You won't believe this, sir," one of them was saying.

The other one added, "Not in a million years."

"Gentlemen, can't you see that I have company?"

Both pairs of eyes turned and took in Fraser, then their mouths opened in shock. It was almost as if they were on a shared puppet string.

"Fraser, you're here," Huey said.

"Yes."

"You *don't* want to be here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Welsh demanded.

Fraser looked at the pair more closely and realized with a start that they knew. Both were looking at him with a kind of awe and maybe a little horror.

"I assure you gentlemen that I do indeed want to be here. This is where I belong."

Welsh let out a heavy sigh. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"It's Fraser," Huey said reluctantly.

"What's Fraser?"

"I think Detective Huey is referring to the fact that the night before last I assaulted Glen Burrell in his home."

Immediately, Lieutenant Welsh began to cough. He hastily put down his sandwich and closed his eyes. Thomas Dewey helpfully pounded on his back, and Fraser watched with concern.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"You, Fraser?" He gasped, still struggling to breathe. "It was *you*?"

"I'm afraid so, sir."

"Why?"

"I can't say, sir."

"Mr. Burrell is pressing charges," Huey said helpfully. "We were just coming to tell you that we have to arrest him."

"What happened?" Fraser opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Welsh raised his hand. "Don't say anything, Constable. Not until you've lawyered up. I don't want to hear anything that can be used against you. Do you have a lawyer?"

"No, sir." Fraser shook his head.

"Then we'll find you one."

With a slight nod, Fraser held out his wrists to be handcuffed. A look passed between Dewey and Welsh before the detective said, "I don't think those will be necessary."

Fraser shrugged and accepted Huey's hand on his arm as his only restraint.

Ray was sitting at his desk trying to do paperwork but really thinking about how lousy it was that the good guys always seemed to get the rough breaks. It didn't seem right to Ray that Fraser had been arrested for something that any man--and most women--would have done. It was enough to make Ray want to go to that hospital and shake Burrell until he agreed to drop the charges. He was just working himself into a nice temper when he saw her.

She walked into the station purposefully, her beautiful face a stern mask. He watched her, listening to her high heels click on the station floor. Everything about her seemed calm and composed. Her stylish suit looked out of place among the disorganization of the station.

As she approached, she looked into Ray's face. Their eyes met and he suddenly knew the air of poised calm she held around herself was an act. Her brown eyes were troubled and unreadable.

Ray stood to acknowledge her presence and her steps slowed. Inspector Thatcher stared at him for a moment before coming to stand in front of him.

"Hello, Inspector," Ray commented, studying her face.

She seemed to be fighting to keep it impassive but Ray saw wisps of strong emotion flickering there. His gaze lingered at the dark patches under her eyes. How long had it been since she'd slept?

"Thank you for calling me, Detective." Her voice was cool, expressionless.

"I figured you'd want to know...for Consular reasons."

"Yes, RCMP headquarters in Ottawa has been called and they are going to send someone to replace your public defender." Her voice was tight and he didn't miss the hesitation before the name. "He was pin pointed by Mr...Burrell as his attacker?"

Ray nodded. "Yes, ma'am. The man seemed sure of it. Would you like to sit down and sign the paperwork for his release into your custody?"

She bit her lip, suddenly reminding Ray of a child. An uncertainty went over her face, and Ray almost believed he might have seen fear. He dismissed this quickly as he watched her and waited for her answer. Was she going to leave Benny in a jail cell to rot?

As if making up her mind, Inspector Thatcher gave a sharp little nod. "Not yet, Detective. I have something I must discuss with you first. Is there somewhere we could go to speak privately?"

After a moment of surprise, Ray nodded. "I don't think anyone is using Interview Room One."

He led her down the hallway wondering if she knew that Ray had guessed why Fraser lost it. He was certain she must know why herself. Even the Dragon Lady could put two and two together. That, as much as any political reason, had been why Ray had called her. He was planning on trying to bully her into coming forward about what happened. That way, people could see what Fraser's motivation was. Seeing how weary she looked as their eyes met, Ray had changed his mind. Maybe it would be better to let a couple of days go by first.

He snuck a look at her, following so briskly beside him. Her strong face showed nothing of what she was thinking. Ray shrugged internally as he walked into Interview Room One, ushering her in after him.

Shutting the door, he asked, "So, what's on your mind?"

"Fraser."

"What about him?" He motioned her to a seat and took one himself.

"It's my fault he's in here."

Ray frowned. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I mean, it's my fault he's in here."

Ray stared at her levelly, not replying. She gazed back, but after a moment, he could see her mask began to crack. She dropped her eyes.

Her voice was steady as she said, "I want to press charges against Glen Burrell."

"The man who Benny beat up?" Ray feigned surprise. "Charges of what?"

"Assault and battery," she answered softly.

Ray felt himself wanting to smile. She was coming forward without him asking, which was something he hadn't believed she'd do. He knew as well as anyone that the woman sitting in front of him was full of pride and that having someone hit her would not be something she'd want publicly aired.

"Assault of who, Inspector?"

"Assault of me." When she raised her eyes to his, all desire to smile vanished. The mask was completely gone from her face, and the person sitting in front of him was no longer Inspector Thatcher. A jolt went through him as he saw a young woman who was filled with fear and anger. There was sadness there too, so deep and painful that it pulled at his heart. The hurt she had managed to cover with clothing shone naked from her eyes. All the bruises he couldn't visibly see rested there, aching for a soothing touch to take them away. Ray had to stop himself from reaching across the table on impulse to hold her. This was the Dragon Lady?

"Did he..." He let the question trail off, afraid of her answer.

She caught his meaning and replied, "No. He just hit me a few times. Somehow Fraser found out, and..." Her hand moved across the table to capture his. "This is *my* fault. People have to know, Ray. I don't want to ruin his life. I can't be responsible for that. You've got to help me make them see."

"Can I see..." Ray cleared his throat, not knowing how to phrase his question. "Um...how...some..."

Wordlessly, she nodded and undid her suit jacket. Slowly, she slid it off and Ray saw a wince go over her features. Underneath she wore a small shirt. It bared her arms, one of which she showed to him. She looked at him questioningly, and he nodded. Yes, he saw them. The Inspector looked undecided for a moment, then stood and raised her shirt a little, exposing some of her stomach. Ray's eyes widened at what he saw and he felt bile crawl up his throat.

"Is this enough to proceed with charges, or do you need to see more, Detective?"

He could tell she was trying to use her Inspector voice, but it was as if it didn't fit--as if she were a little girl trying on her mommy's shoes.

Ray cleared his throat before admitting, "They may think you're lying to stick up for Fraser."

"Do these look like lies?"

Once more she turned her arm over and Ray stared at the bruises for a moment in fascination.

When he could finally look into her face again, he asked, "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"There's not much to tell," she replied, taking her seat again. "I went out on a date. We drank too much. We went to my place. He hit me. I passed out. When I came to, he was gone."

Her words were calm, but Ray could see the tension in her slight frame. It was so stiff, Ray was amazed that something didn't break. When he tried to search her eyes, brown evaded green. She stared solemnly at the table as if it were a puzzle she needed to solve.

"You're going to have to be more detailed in your statement." Ray knew his voice was very soft, but he couldn't help it. This meeting was no longer about Fraser. Somehow during the course of their conversation, it became important to nail Burrell because of her. Meg. A part of him began to understand why Fraser had lost it because of the attack. In fact, Ray was starting to feel a little warm himself. "I will check for any priors, both here and in Canada. He's a dual citizen, so he can be tried as an American. It would be helpful if we could get another woman to testify to the same kind of treatment."

"Yes," she murmured.

"And physical proof would be helpful."

He brows knit together. "Proof? What kind of proof?"

"Um...A doctor's examination and..." He took a deep breath. "Someone should take pictures of your injuries."

The look she threw him was panic filled. "A police officer will have to look at me?"

Sympathy sliced through Ray and he assured her, "No...no...as long as the doctor is reliable and can validate them, anyone can take the pictures."

There was still fear there, but she nodded. Her face had gone white but was set in determination.

"I also want to warn you that the fact that you were drunk may be used against you. They could throw a question at you about how much you can really remember and how you can be sure Burrell was your attacker."

She bit her lip again before asking quietly, "Do you think this will help Fraser?"

"Well," he said honestly, "It certainly can't hurt. At the very least you're taking a sleeze off the street."

"Good. People should know what Gl...What that man is. Fraser is not the bad guy here, and I want everyone to know it. *He* has to be stopped. I didn't understand that until..." She paused and smiled tentatively. "It's funny how much you realize when a friend is in trouble."

"Yes, ma'am." The title of respect came out easier than it ever had before. He saw courage as he looked at her, despite the fact that she looked so vulnerable it made him want to cry. How hard this was for her was written plainly on her face, and Ray cursed his Italian heritage for not allowing him to distance himself from her situation.

"So, what happens now?"

"Are you ready to give your statement?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Well, then, that's where we'll start." As they rose, he continued, "Then we'll see about getting the world's nicest person released."

A couple of hours later, Meg found herself leading a newly released Constable Fraser to her car. After a lengthy statement to Ray, who Lt. Welsh let remain in control of her case--mostly because of Meg's refusal to talk to anyone else--paperwork had been signed to give Fraser into the care of the Consulate until his trial. Then Detectives Huey and Dewey had retrieved Fraser. Ray explained to Meg that they were in charge Fraser's case. She studied them critically, not sure if she liked what she saw.

There had been a short, whispered conversation between Ray and Fraser and then a long awkward moment as he had been led to Meg. All she said to him was, "Come with me," and he had followed her meekly. Now they were approaching her Sunfire. She stole a look at Fraser's face and he appeared to be rather nervous.

"Get in," she ordered.

He nodded and obeyed. The two of them sat wrapped in silence, Meg driving and Ben staring out the windows. She wanted to tell him that she had changed her mind about resigning but something stopped her. The knowledge of what happened the last time they were together made a feeling of extreme shyness go through her, and she was afraid to speak. She kept seeing herself cradled in his arms as she gave in and bawled like a baby. It was not exactly the Superior Officer image she wanted to convey.

Meg kept peeking at Fraser out of the corner of her eye. Sometime since she had spoken to him early that morning, he had changed into his street clothes. She found it rather unnerving, as if another barrier had toppled between them. For once, though, that might be a good thing.

As she drove, Meg recalled Ray's words to her at the station. Just thinking of it made a kazillion butterflies go into flight in the pit of her stomach. A knot of stress gathered at the back of her throat, causing her to swallow several times.

"Fraser?" she said softly.

He turned to look at her, his honest eyes showing nothing but respect and trust. This made her braver even before he spoke. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Did Ray...um...did Ray tell you?"

"Tell me what, ma'am?"

Meg cleared her throat and swallowed again. "I'm pressing charges against Gl...uh...against *him*. You were right this morning. I can't hide from this. Just because I feel ashamed doesn't mean I can have the luxury of pretending it didn't happen. I owe this to every woman that came to be on the other side of his fist before me...and I owe it to you."

"Me?" He blinked.

"Yes, Fraser. I'm the one who dragged you into this." She held up a hand to stop his protest. "Don't try to deny it, you know it's true. If you can face these incompetent American courts because of me, the least I can do is stand up to that man for you."

He gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, so she continued, "Ray said to make my charges...um...stick, it would be helpful to have another woman come forward. He also said that there were two things that I could do to make my case stronger. I'd like to get them over with today."

Meg put on her blinker and drove to the side of the road. She wanted to give him her full attention when she asked him. There was puzzlement in Constable Fraser's eyes, but Meg ignored it.

"Fraser, can I count on you?"

"Of course." There was no hesitation in his answer.

She almost smiled. "Ray's first recommendation was that I see a doctor. A doctor's report detailing my injuries and pin pointing the probable date of their occurrence as the night of my date with Glen will back up my story. I've made an appointment for this afternoon, and I was wondering..." She paused a moment, suddenly terrified. Still, Meg pressed on. "...I was wondering if you'd come with me. I'm afraid I won't be able to concentrate on driving after the...uh...the examination."

In the moment before he answered, the breath caught in Meg's throat.

"I will accompany you and drive you home," he agreed.

A line appeared between his brows, so she hurried to assure him, "You don't have to. It's not an order."

His hand crossed the space between them and rested on hers. The shock of his touch almost made her forget her own name.

"I'm coming."

She accepted his firm reply with a slight nod before turning her eyes to their joined hands. Her gaze lingered there as she wondered if she was strong enough to continue her request. Nervously, Meg chewed her lower lip, not sure of how to phrase the important question.

"There was a second thing?" he prodded.

"Yes," she whispered, still unable to look at him.

"Ma'am?"'

"He thinks I should have physical proof of my injuries to back up the doctor's report."

"Which means?"

"Pictures."

"Pictures?"

Taking a deep breath to harden her resolve, she looked up into his eyes. The warmth she saw there made her fear melt away. "I need someone to take pictures of my injuries. I want you to do it."

He took a short, sharp breath, pulling his hand from hers. "I don't think...Wouldn't you...it's not..."

Meg looked at him, searching for signs of repulsion or disgust. All she saw there was embarrassment and uncertainty.

"This, of course, is not an order either. You're probably wondering why I chose you for..." Her voice trembled a little as she thought of the trial ahead. Clearing her throat, she paused to steady it. When she was sure it would not betray her again, she continued, "..for this and not a woman. Someone I'd feel more comfortable with."

He nodded, his gray-blue eyes wide.

"Well, for one thing, I believe you deserve to see what you might have risked jail for. How else are you supposed to know if it was worth the price?"

He mumbled something she didn't quite catch, and Meg had a feeling she wasn't supposed to. An intensity had suddenly come to his eyes, and they trapped hers. It was then that she decided that he should know her other reason as well.

"The truth is, Fraser, I had another, almost as important, reason." Her cheeks colored slightly, and only the power of his gaze kept her from looking away. "You are the only person in Chicago that I trust without question. I don't want someone...someone I can't trust to...to..."

A shiver went through her and she immediately felt his hands on hers again. With a gentle caress, her anxiety lessened and she knew she had made the right choice. If there was anyone in the world she could trust not to take advantage of her bared body and soul, it was Benton Fraser.

"Will you?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Meg put her car in gear and drove back into traffic. When her right hand was done its task, Fraser took it up again. He held it as they drove to the hospital in silence.

Elaine walked down the hallway of the 27th, her arms full of files. She had only been there five minutes and already Welsh had her running around collecting information.

She knew she must look awful. After all, she had been up most of the night sitting with her friend Glen. When Huey and Dewey had gone in to question him, Elaine went home and took a shower and put on some make up. She knew that, even so, her fatigue still showed. With a sigh, she rubbed one tired fist over her eye. She intended to jump into bed as soon as she got home that evening and to sleep until morning.

"I still can't believe it." Huey's voice floated to her from a little ways away.

"Who would have thought--Fraser," Dewey's voice answered.

"Well, at least he had a good reason."

"Wonder what she did to provoke him."

"Some men don't need to be provoked."

Curiosity overruled tiredness and Elaine went up to see what they were talking about. "Hi, guys. Did I hear you mention Fraser?"

"Oh, hi, Elaine," Jack Huey replied.

His partner said, "Have you heard about Fraser?"

Elaine shook her head.

"He's been arrested."

"Arrested? Fraser?" Surprise went through her and she almost >dropped her files. "For what?"

"He beat up that guy. You know, Greg Burrell."

"It was Glen," Huey corrected.

"Glen what?"

"Burrell. It was Glen Burrell."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ask Elaine."

Elaine interrupted them, a numb feeling settling about her. "Fraser beat up Glen?"

"Yup."

She shook her head in protest. "It can't be true. Fraser would never..."

"He told us so himself."

"And so did Burrell," Dewey added.

"I...I don't believe you."

"Tell her the rest of the story," Dewey prodded Huey.

"Well, it seems that this Glen guy beat up Fraser's boss..."

"The Dragon Lady."

"Yeah, the Dragon Lady. Fraser got mad and hit him."

"She lied," Elaine hissed.

"Huh?"

"That...woman lied," she growled. "Why would she do that?" Elaine felt the anger rise to her cheeks.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she stormed, "She must have wanted to hurt Glen, so she made up a lie about him. Fraser believed it, and--well you *saw* what he did!"

"Elaine, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied, stalking away.

As she headed towards Lt. Welsh's office, she felt the heat of her face start to tingle all through her body. That someone could accuse the gentlest man she knew of assault and battery was ludicrous. The reasons for such a viscous rumor were beyond her. At least she, Elaine, knew the truth. She would stand beside him.

And God help the Dragon Lady if she got in her way.

Ray was sitting at his desk drinking coffee, his body taut and ready to run. He had been avoiding Elaine for about two hours. One angry confrontation per day was enough for him.

She was angrier than he had ever seen her. After demanding to know the truth of where Ray stood on Meg's case and finding out he was in charge of it, her anger had suddenly turned towards him. She refused to believe that any of the things said against her friend were true. Elaine refused to be reasonable. Having two sisters, Ray had learned that the only way to deal with an unreasonable woman was to run.

The ring of his cell phone made him jump.

"I'm not jumpy or anything," he mumbled self-deprecatingly before punching a button. "Vecchio."

"Ray?"

Ray felt himself smile at the voice he heard on the other end.

"Benny!"

"Yes, Ray. I'm calling to tell you that I am at the hospital with Inspector Thatcher."

"Is she okay?"

"No need for concern. She is just being examined by a doctor as you suggested."

"Good. Is she pretty beat up?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What'd the doctor say?"

"I haven't spoken to him, Ray. I'm in the waiting room. The Inspector wanted me to inform you that the results will be faxed to the station in the morning."

Ray ran a hand over his balding head. "Is that all you wanted, Benny?"

"No. I also wanted to tell you that..." Ray heard his friend clear his throat before continuing. He could see him in his mind's eye, tugging at his earlobe. "...I will be...uh...taking the pictures you requested at my apartment tonight, as well as developing them."

"Tonight?"

"At the Inspector's request."

Ray frowned. When Thatcher decided to do something, she really jumped in with both feet.

"Did you want me to come get them or wait until morning?"

"I think she'd prefer as soon as possible, if that's all right with you."

"Yeah. I'll be there around eight or eight thirty."

Benny sighed. "Thank you kindly, Ray."

"How *is* she?"

"Extremely composed."

Before today, this would have elicited a snort from Ray. Now, it just made him worry that she wasn't facing her feelings. Against his will, he said, "Take care of her, okay?"

"The Inspector can care for herself," Benny protested.

"But even Mounties sometimes need back up."

"Of course, Ray. That's why I'm here."

*That and the fact that you love her,* Ray thought. Aloud, he said, "I'll see you tonight."

"All right. Good bye."

"See ya."

Ray shut off his cell phone and looked at it thoughtfully. If anyone had told him he would start liking the Dragon Lady, he would have told them they were one plum short of a fruit basket, but here he was, concerned about her physical and mental state. It made him want to laugh. He didn't get the chance though, as he heard Elaine's voice coming down the hallway. Grabbing his cup of coffee, Ray bolted in the opposite direction.

They stood there looking at each other nervously for several moments. Fraser watched Meg shift uncomfortably and decided to take the bull by the horns.

Clearing his throat, he said, "I'll...uh...I'll go get the camera."

She nodded slightly, a tinge of red touching her cheeks. Instinctively, Ben knew she was ashamed, and the knowledge made him want to reach out and hold her. He didn't, of course, because he knew something else. Any attempt to comfort her on his part would make her think he was pitying her. Her self esteem was shattered enough as it was without her believing that.

As he went to get his camera, he studied Meg out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't think of her as The Inspector now, not when she was standing there looking like a lost child. Her eyes wandered idly over the kitchen section of his apartment and she seemed to be resisting an urge to hug herself. Diefenbaker was watching the both of them from under the table, but Meg didn't even notice him.

"I found it," he said softly.

Without a word, she came towards him, officially leaving the kitchen and entering the livingroom/bedroom. Diefenbaker followed her.

"Well," she said crisply, as if they were discussing mounds of paperwork. "Let's get started, shall we?"

He nodded, checking the film and pressing his lips together. His mind wondered who this would be harder for--him or her.

"We'll start from the back, ma'am," he said formally, trying to help her hang on to her composure. He chose the back purposely to give her time to get used to his eyes on her before she had to face him.

Meg took off her jacket and placed it on the bed, her back to Fraser. He saw her body react to a deep breath before straightening as she squared her shoulders. His sharp ears caught something that he was sure he wasn't supposed to hear.

"You can do this."

Then Meg began to slowly undo the buttons on her blouse. Ben watched with a mixture of fascination and dread. He knew what he was about to see would add fuel to those tormenting pictures, but he had to see for himself what caused him to act in a way that might have changed his life.

It seemed to take a long time. Finally, all the buttons were undone and the fabric sighed as it slipped to the floor. She was wearing a camisole underneath--a white slip of a thing that could not hide the ugly purple mar that stained her shoulder. Carefully, as if the movement caused her pain, Meg reached up to tug it over her head. Fraser's stomach clenched and he had to stop himself from crying out, 'Dear Lord' as a wave of ice moved over his body. Dief, by his feet, let out a soft whine, so Ben shushed him. There would be no displays of sympathy.

The look away to gesture to Dief gave Fraser a moment to compose himself. He was very grateful that Meg had been unable to see his reaction when all of her pain was revealed. He knew it would take all the time he had before she faced him for him to regain his disinterested Mountie face.

Grinding his teeth, Fraser once more turned his eyes to the horrible site of her abused flesh. She was slowly taking off her pants now, as she believed leg pictures would be helpful as well.

Questions whirled through Ben's troubled mind. How many times had that man hit her? How in the hell had she managed to come back to work so soon? Meg had told him that some of the lesser bruises had faded, and it was true that here and there were brownish patches on her skin, but there was so much purple and black. Fraser felt himself begin to shake as his mind imagined her pain.

"The pictures?" she asked, causing him to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

"Three of the back, ma'am?" he replied, surprised that his voice was steady--but then, so was hers.

"Whatever you think, Fraser."

He swallowed several times, trying to get the dryness out of his mouth, before stepping forward to get a good angle. He noticed then that she was trembling, and he didn't think it was from cold. It took all he had not to reach out and caress her hurts, murmuring the words that he had recently realized he wanted to say.

"The back ones are taken, ma'am. Shall we take the leg from the side now?"

"Okay," Her voice quavered slightly, and Fraser willed strength into her.

As she turned, modestly covering her breasts with her hands, and Fraser focused his attention on her left thigh--which was mottled much like her right forearm--he thought how strange it would have seemed to him if anyone had told him that Inspector Thatcher would be in his apartment modeling for pictures in only her underwear. The thought almost amused him, and it helped to drag his mind away from the little cuts that looked to be made from shattered glass.

"Two should be sufficient."

"Yes," she agreed, and it seemed that she had her voice back under control.

He stood as she turned to face him, and he could not hlp but search for every hurt with his eyes. Not quite as bad as the back, which had caused a knife to go through his heart, but still terrible. The slight bruise of her cheek and the bruises on her arm had not prepared him--though the one on her collarbone had given him a clue.

Dispassionately, at least on the outside so she wouldn't know his thoughts, he took the pictures. The worst one was the one on her stomach, right under her ribs. It looked like she had been hit with a bowling ball. The sight of it was almost too much for him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to wretch or cry. He didn't dare to look in her eyes.

"I think I should get a picture of your mid section alone, ma'am," he told her, sounding confident. "It is the most obvious of all of them."

"Okay," she whispered. The soft, shaky voice had returned. He wished she wouldn't do that to him. The shifts from calm professionalism to unsure waifishness were tearing him apart.

He sat on his knees before her, adjusting the camera. Determination set his face grimly as he decided that this picture would be the one to lock that bastard away. It would be this final, heartwrenching image that no man or woman on that jury could deny. Fraser had taken the picture twice, finishing their session, when he tried to rise. With surprise, he noted that he couldn't, and that his hands were shaking so badly that he was going to drop the camera. Gently, he placed it on the floor by his knee.

"Fraser?"

He didn't say anything, just stared at his hands. Why, when they had remained steady through everything after his first strong reaction, were they shaking now?

"Are you all right?" Her voice was gentle, concerned. Concerned about him! Here she was, standing in his apartment, naked to his gaze, bearing the marks that had stolen her self respect, and she was worried that *he* might not be okay?

Ben forced himself to look up into her face. Now that its bruise had faded, there were no signs there of her physical pain. The emotional pain had not fared so well. It shone from her eyes, played along the self mocking of her lips and exuded from the dark hollows of sleeplessness below her eyelids.

The trembling in Fraser's hands began to spread. On his knees, he walked the few steps that separated them. Gently, as much not to scare her as not to hurt her, he reached out and caressed bruised flesh.

"It's okay," She whispered, her surprise in her voice, "It's healing."

Fraser felt them come then, starting in his belly, and he was helpless to fight them. All he could do was wrap his arms around her waist and bury his face in the deep purpleness of her skin.

"Let it go," she said, stroking his hair. "You forced me to let go, and now it's your turn."

He couldn't stop them anyway. First, it was the heaving, dry painful sobs that tried to rip his body apart. Then, mercifully, the tears followed, mingling with the sobs and cooling all the rage and hurt that were trying to drown him.

He loved her and he hadn't been able to protect her. She forgave him but he could not forgive himself. She had suffered and he hadn't known. It all came out, running down his skin and hers, salty expressions of the words he couldn't say.

Fraser had no idea how long he knelt there, clinging to her, with her tender hand in his hair. Eventually, the moment was broken by a bark from Diefenbaker. Wiping his eyes with one hand, while still holding her with the other, he turned to look at his wolf.

"I'm sorry," he said.

There was a laugh from Meg. The startling sound was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. He could not recall hearing her laugh before, and the echo of it soaked into his skin and raced through his body.

"What are you apologizing to him for?"

"For doing what I told him he wasn't allowed to."

"Oh." Then after a pause, a soft, "Does your wolf really care about me?"

Ben pulled away reluctantly, going to retrieve the camera. "Why don't you ask him?"

He heard her kneel and ask, "What about it, Dief? Are we friends?"

Peeking, though he knew she had forgotten she was practically naked, he saw Diefenbaker run to her and begin licking her face. Tiny sounds of concern were coming from his throat.She sighed, burying her face in the wolf's fur. Fraser felt his heart lurch as he moved to the kitchen area to give Meg her privacy. He thought he had never been as fond of Dief as he was at that moment.

As he started to boil some water, Ben thought of the weakness he had just displayed. He felt slightly ashamed, but not as much as he would have expected. He was sure Meg would never bring it up again; she was too aware of her own slips in control to point out someone else's, but he didn't think he'd mind even if she did. Somehow his breaking down didn't feel like weakness, it felt like strength instead. He had had the courage to show her how much her pain hurt him. Maybe that's what weakness in front of those you love really was. Strength.

A warmth went over him and he suddenly felt almost happy. Meg had admitted that she completely trusted him. She had let him see what she would show no one else. Maybe this horrid experience was the beginning of something wonderful.

Fraser's mind was broken from these thoughts by Meg's appearance several minutes later. She was composed and dressed, the only sign of their unpleasant business her slightly tousled hair. Diefenbaker followed close behind her.

Ben thought she looked beautiful. He felt himself smile, his face breaking the careful mask he had put on. She smiled back almost shyly, the childlike aura still surrounding her. It made him want to hold her again--hold her and hold her and never let go.

"Would you care for some coffee?"

"That would be nice, thank you."

Though he didn't want to, Ben turned from her and poured her a cup of the brew he had heated.

"Black, sir?"

"Yes, please."

As he passed her the mug, he was pleased to see that his hands no longer shook. His eyes went from his to hers, and he noticed they trembled slightly. Tenderness made him want to stroke them, but again he pushed impulse away. He didn't want to shatter her by showing that he noticed.

"Is it hot enough, ma'am?"

She nodded, settling comfortably at the table. Despite her expensive suit, it seemed as if she belonged there. As she sipped, Diefenbaker sat at her feet. At his touch, Meg bent to absently scratch behind his ears. The wolf leaned against her legs, tongue lolling in pleasure.

She sipped slowly, her face showing she was lost in thought. Fraser watched her intently, and was surprised when she suddenly looked up and caught his gaze. Embarrassed to be caught studying her, a flush spread over his face. Without speaking, he joined her at the table.

"Eggs," she said softly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The last time I was here, you made me eggs."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded.

"That was the day you rescued me from Henri Cloutier and I realized that I didn't have to put up with him any longer."

He didn't know how to answer this, so he just sat looking at her.

"I knew you didn't have to come and get me. You didn't really need me for the breakthrough, and you knew it too. I don't think I ever thanked you."

He started to protest, but she raised her hand. "You are a good friend, Fraser. If anything positive came out of this God forsaken posting, it's the fact that I met you. I'll probably regret saying that tomorrow, but it's the truth."

Shock went through Ben, and his mouth opened. The words were there on his tongue, his secret trying to slip out. When he realized what he was going to say, he clicked his teeth together, blocking its path. He took a short breath, then said simply, "I'm glad I met you as well."

This seemed to please her, and she touched his hand briefly before finishing the last of her coffee.

"Ray is coming tonight for the pictures?" she asked eventually.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then I suppose you should start developing them."

He nodded.

"I..." She stopped and tilted her head a moment in thought. "I think I'll take your wolf for a walk." She knelt so that Diefenbaker could read her lips. "How about it, Dief? Would you like to walk with me?"

He sprang to his feet, doing a little dance. Meg laughed again and Fraser knew that if it hadn't already been lost, his heart would have been stolen at that moment.

"Be careful, ma'am."

Meg looked at Fraser, then at Dief. She looked thoughtful for a moment, and her voice sounded a little surprised when she answered, "I'm not afraid. Dief will keep me safe."

Fraser had been sitting alone in the dark. He was waiting, and he knew he had been waiting longer than necessary. The fact was that he was afraid his eagerness would make him hurry, and in his hurry, the result would be less than perfect. That was unacceptable. Finally, he got up from the table and checked the pictures hanging from a line strung across the room. He did not look at the images, just made sure that they were definitely dry. Satisfied, he made his way to the window and lifted the shade.

Just as fading light entered the apartment once more, there was a knock on his door. He ran a knuckle over his eyebrow, hoping that it wasn't Meg returning. He wanted to have the pictures stashed away before she did. That way, she wouldn't have to face them. Reluctantly, he walked to the door and opened it. He smiled with relief at the form on the other side.

"Ray."

"Yeah. Hi, Benny. I've come to pick up the pictures. You done?"

Ben dropped his eyes and motioned Ray in as the smile quickly fell from his face. A desire to burn the pictures, thereby shielding Meg from harsh eyes, went through him. "They're in here."

Ray must have caught something in his voice because he asked, "Are you okay?"

Lowly, he answered, "I'm glad I didn't do this before..."

Ray's hand on his arm made Ben look at him. Concerned green eyes seemed to look right into his soul. "What do you mean?"

Fraser drew a shallow breath as he studied the face of his best friend. How much could he tell him? What would his admission cost? Ben thought back to the small discovery he had made earlier. He loved Ray like a brother, and maybe this was one of the times when showing emotion was strength.

Through a throat tight with wanting to keep his reply in, he said very softly, "I would have killed him."

Ray accepted this with a nod. "That bad, huh?"

Almost overwhelmed by his acceptance, Ben managed a "Yes." He paused, turning his back on Ray and trying to control the anger brought on by the scenes in his head.

He could hear Ray following him, so when he was sure he was in control of his voice and his emotions, he asked, "So, you haven't seen...?"

"Nah. Just a couple. She was upset."

Ben reached the pictures and took down the first one. His eyes scanned it and saw it was one of her back. The hand not holding it clenched reflexively and he glanced at his friend before handing it to him.

"How many people will see these, Ray?"

"I can't lie to you, Benny. There's going to be quite a few. Everyone involved in the case, everyone's lawyers, the judge, the jury. Even the people working on your case might see them, if the fancy lawyer from Ottawa thinks it's necessary. Think The Dragon Lady can handle it?"

Ben didn't even have to think about that. "Yes. She is strong. Even stronger than I thought. What that man did to her, it was worse than just hurting her body. It almost destroyed her. Knowing that she could be taken advantage of, no longer being able to trust herself, it scares her to death. But she's facing it--facing it for me."

"I gotta admit, Fraser, I admired her guts myself this morning."

This made Ben almost smile. For months, he had been trying to get Ray to see in Meg what he saw in her. The Italian refused to look beyond the surface--where he saw a strict, uptight woman who enjoyed bossing others--and really see what she was hiding underneath. It seemed that it had finally happened without any interference from him. His hesitancy gone, he handed the picture to Ray.

Ray took it gingerly, first looking at Ben for permission to look at it. Fraser nodded. The detective's face first turned very white, then took on an almost greenish tinge. As always, his emotions were written there plainly, and Fraser didn't have to know Italian to know that the words coming in sharp mutters were curses.

"Ray?"

"Huh?" He ripped his eyes from the image in his fingers.

"Did you bring an envelope?"

"An envelope?"

"For the pictures."

"Oh, yeah." Rational thought came back to his features, and he reached inside his jacket and retrieved a folded 8 1/2 x 11 envelope.

"Good. I want to have them in it before her return."

"Return? Hmmnnn. I thought that was her car I saw down there."

"She took Dief for a walk." A flash of amusement made Fraser correct himself. "Or should I say Dief took her for a walk."

He handed the next picture to Ray, who said, "How could you stand to take these?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

This earned him a hard look. Ray's face still appeared slightly greenish and his hands shook slightly.

"I mean, if it were someone I..." He coughed, then continued," I cared about, then there's no way I could just stand there and take pictures..."

"What else could I have done?" Ben snapped, surprising both himself and Ray.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Fraser took a deep breath, then nodded. "Thank you."

Ray's green eyes held puzzlement. "For what?"

"Everything. For taking care of this personally. For standing behind us. For lying for me."

Ray shrugged. "That's what friends do."

Overwhelming gratitude almost made Fraser hug him. Never in his life had someone taken the term friend and used it to mean someone who would do anything to help and protect him. To hide his sudden positive emotion, Ben turned back to the pictures and handed the rest to Ray in silence. The detective forced himself to look at each one, the skin around his eyes progressively tightening.

"Maybe someday he'll have a tragic accident," Ray mumbled as he was shutting the envelope. "The sooner the better."

Fraser didn't get a chance to reply, as another knock cut him off. The two men shared a look before the Mountie called, "Come in."

Meg entered, looking quite refreshed from her walk. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed. Ben's heart flip flopped in his chest as she smiled warmly to Ray.

"Oh, hello, Detective."

"Inspector."

"Fraser, does your wolf know *every* donut shop in the neighborhood?"

This got a laugh from Ray, who answered, "Yup, and every other neighborhood in the city."

"Ray!"

"It's true, Benny."

"I bought him one," Meg continued. "I hope it's all right."

"He is on a diet, but one is okay for a treat."

Still grinning, Ray stated, "I'd better go. Ma's holding diner for me. Have a good night."

"Good night, Ray."

Ben watched in curiosity as Ray stopped when he was passing Meg. The Mountie's excellent hearing picked up the soft question and her murmured answer. There was slight contact as her hand settled on his arm, then Ray turned and waved before leaving.

"You know," Meg admitted, "I think I'm starting to like him."

"The feeling seems to be mutual."

A flash of surprise went over her delicate features. "Really?"

"Yes."

He studied her face as she absorbed this, intent on the expression in her eyes. She was skilled at keeping her face impassive, but she didn't always have control over what seeped into her eyes. Their eyes met, and both of them blushed and looked away.

"I suppose I should be going."

Ben saw reluctance go over her face and spoke before taking the time to think. "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

"Fraser!" she exclaimed, her mouth falling open.

It hit him suddenly what it sounded like he was suggesting. Flustered, he blurted, "I...I, uh,, often sleep on the floor. Dief takes the bed, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind sharing with you..."

She bit her lip in that endearing way she had, and he saw that she was tempted. "I don't think that would be appropriate."

She was right, of course, but he was disappointed. He would love to go to sleep knowing she was there, hearing her breathe and smelling her unique fragrance--and he didn't want her to be alone.

"Understood."

He watched Meg bend down to give Dief a final scratch before retrieving her purse from the sideboard. She opened it and took out her keys, looking at them as if she'd never seen them before. Her eyes rose to Fraser's face and he gave her a short nod. Meg nodded back and turned. Her hand reached out and touched the knob. Then she went completely still.

"Fraser?" she whispered.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Does that offer still stand?"

Meg sat comfortably, perched on the edge of Fraser's bed. In the long flannel shirt that had replaced her serious suit, she felt more comfortable than she had since she was a child. A cup of tea--when he discovered she preferred it to coffee, Fraser went out and bought some tea bags--was warming her hands. Diefenbaker was curled behind her, offering comfort and warmth from the other side.

A feeling of contentment had settled over Meg as she sipped and watched Fraser prepare them a late supper. The voice in her head had not made an appearance since she entered, and despite the fact that she wasn't wearing much more than Fraser's shirt, she felt completely at ease.

She was starting to like the place. Despite its rundown look, it was immaculately clean and Fraser's presence filled it completely, even when he was gone.

Fraser turned and caught her staring at him. A blush tinged his cheeks, but his voice was steady as he said, "It shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

"It smells delicious."

"Thank you kindly, ma'am."

She got up and went to the kitchen area. After placing her tea on the table, Meg started looking through the cupboards for dishes.

"Not much here, Fraser," she said conversationally.

"We don't often get company."

"I think I know what I'll get you for Christmas. Nothing fancy, mind you, but something simple and serviceable."

He didn't answer, but that didn't bother her. She took out the dishes and set the table, trying to make it look nice. Fraser had turned his back to her again, and a stray thought about what it would be like to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in the soft folds of his shirt flitted through her mind. It was a good thought, although she quickly banished it. She blamed it on the feeling of domesticity that had settled around her.

"Are you warm enough, ma'am?" Fraser asked, coming over to pull her out a chair.

Meg sat obediently and answered, "Quite warm, thank you. It's a comfortable shirt."

"It's my favorite," he admitted with a little smile that showed dimples.

She couldn't help but return a smile like that. Pleased, Fraser went to the stove and retrieved a pot. Meg took a deep sniff of the stew as Fraser ladled it into a bowl for her, and her stomach growled.

It was as delicious as it smelled. She wasted no time in telling him. His eyes lit up with her praise, making her happy she had given it.

He joined her at the table and the two of them started eating their food with gusto. Meg felt like she hadn't eaten in years, and the fact was the past couple of days she'd been eating about as much as she'd been sleeping. She remembered some sort of sandwich the day before, but couldn't remember if she'd eaten anything since.

The hot stew tingled in her belly almost as if her stomach was saying thank you. Meg ate several pieces of thickly sliced homemade bread with it. She wondered if Fraser had made that himself too.

As her stomach filled, Meg began to feel drowsy for the first time in days. It hit her suddenly and she put down her spoon, blinking rapidly. A huge yawn escaped her. She snuck a peek at Fraser to see if he heard it, but he seemed oblivious. Rubbing her left eye, she blinked a couple more times, then she reached for her spoon again.

The next thing she was aware of was a pair of strong arms lifting

her up out of her chair.

"Fraser?" she mumbled.

"You fell asleep in your chair, ma'am."

She accepted this and snuggled deeper against him. He smelled wonderful, and she could get lost in the feeling of belonging that came from being with him.

The arms tightened, and Meg sighed. She was fast asleep before he even put her in the bed.

The next morning, Fraser puttered around his kitchen, trying to be quiet. Dief was lying on his bedroll, which he hadn't rolled up yet, with all four legs stuck in the air. It was rare for the wolf to sleep in such and undignified manner, and it caused the usually stoic Mountie to chuckle.

Just a few steps away, Fraser's bed was rumpled and occupied by his still fast asleep superior officer. She had conked out the night before just after nine and hadn't moved all night. If not for the faint sound of her breathing, Fraser would have been worried. Exhaustion seemed to have caught up with her at last.

His eyes avoided the bed, afraid that he would glimpse something inappropriate. Occasionally, the temptation would get too strong and he'd sneak a peak. Her face was angelic in sleep. All the walls she had worked so hard to place there fell away, making her look very young and innocent.

These thoughts led to other thoughts. Something about the Inspector was different. The night before, after her walk, she seemed so--what was the word?--at ease with him. Her attitude had shifted, just slightly, and Ben had no idea why or what it meant. It wasn't that he didn't like it. On the contrary, the sight of her perched on his bed, drinking tea and patting Diefenbaker had thrilled him.

Ben's musings were interrupted by a knock on his door. He hurried to answer it, not wanting the Inspector to be disturbed since she had an hour left to sleep.

"Morning, Benny!" Ray said heartily when the door was opened.

Ben put a finger to his lips and led Ray into the room. The detective looked puzzled, so he whispered, "She's still asleep."

Ray's eyes got big as he asked quietly, "She's still here?"

"Yes."

"Oh, man. What happened?"

"After you left, we ate and then retired," Fraser said innocently, though he knew what Ray was thinking.

"Together?"

"Of course not, Ray."

The detective looked into the other section. "She's asleep all right. I take it you won't need a ride to work."

"Inspector Thatcher will probably be willing to drive me. If not, I'll walk."

"I still can't believe she slept here." Ray shook his head.

"She was tired. Do you want me to come by the station later? I am off at noon today."

"No!" Ray said quickly.

Ben drew his brows together. There was an almost panicked note to his friend's voice.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't think you want to go to the station," Ray said, turning away and running a hand over his head. "It's not a good place for you right now. You see, Elaine is a real good friend of Burrell's--he used to visit her over summer vacations or something when they were kids. You and the Dra...um...the Inspector are not very popular with her right now. I think it's better if you just let her cool off for a couple of days."

"If you think that's best."

The Chicago cop brightened. "Of course, that don't keep me from coming to get you at noon. You still up for it?"

"That would be fine, Ray."

"I wish I would have known you didn't need a ride this morning," Ray commented, making himself a coffee.

"Why's that?"

"I would have slept in."

Meg Thatcher woke to the smell of pancakes. She was in a deep, dreamless sleep when the smell beckoned to her. Half of her body fought against it, but the part that liked pancakes decided she had slept enough.

She swam slowly towards awareness, feeling warm and safe. The smell of pancakes and a soothing masculine scent invaded her through her nose, and she embraced them. As she came closer to consciousness her sense of touch awakened. There was something soft against her skin and something firm but pliable against her back.

It was sound that finally fully waked her. She lay there with her eyes closed, listening to someone moving around quietly. Memory came back and she realized that she was in Benton Fraser's bed. She should feel scandalized--horrified, even. Instead, what she felt was relaxed contentment.

There had been no nightmares. For the first time since the attack, she had slept completely through the night with no disturbing dreams to haunt her. Surrounded by his shirt, his bed, his presence--him--Meg had managed to find some peace at last. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and shifted slightly. As small as her movement was, he must have heard it because he said, "Good morning, ma'am."

She stretched luxuriously, replying, "Good morning, Fraser. Something smells great."

"Pancakes. I hope you like them."

"I *love* pancakes."

Meg felt herself start to grin and didn't fight it. No 'Inspector face' this morning. After all, Fraser had seen her naked, battered, and weak. What was left to hide from him? This knowledge, discovered on her walk the night before, made her feel free. To be able to be completely herself was a pleasure she hadn't had for a very long time.

Sitting up, Meg hugged herself, enjoying the feel of his shirt. His *favorite* shirt. She watched him move about the kitchen, almost disappointed that he was already in uniform. And it was the brown uniform that showed off his chest and shoulders.

When Fraser turned, she noticed he had a tray in his hands. On it were pancakes, syrup, orange juice, milk, and toast. He brought it in to her, asking, "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I have in years."

He smiled shyly. "I'm glad."

She reached out and took the tray from him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He was going to go back into the kitchen area, so she gestured to the bottom of the bed. "Sit here with me. I won't bite."

A slight look of embarrassment went over his face, causing her to grin wider and think of something definitely naughty. He took her suggestion, though, and settled by her feet.

"Mmmmm." She said appreciatively a moment later, when she tasted the pancakes. "These are great."

"It's my grandmother's recipe."

"Well, then, thank you, Mrs. Fraser, wherever you are. I haven't tasted pancakes like this since...hmmn...the summer I stayed with my aunt and uncle in Alberta. I was twelve."

When she looked up from her breakfast she noticed that Fraser was beaming. All he said was, "How are you feeling?"

"Wonderful. There's a kind of freedom in embracing one's own fallibility." She didn't mention that waking up to his dear face hadn't hurt either. "And thank you for letting me stay here last night."

"You're welcome."

"My apartment is a scary place to me right now," she admitted, surprised at how easy it was. "I see *him* everywhere. Feel him. I'd be happy if I never had to set foot in there again."

He nodded in understanding.

"Fraser, if I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?"

"Of course, ma'am."

"That's right, I almost forgot who I was talking to." She placed her fork on the tray so she could give him her full attention. "Do you think I'm being unreasonable?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, do you think I'm being foolish? It's not like he...he...um..well, you know what I'm trying to say. Do you think it's childish to be so disturbed by the fact that he beat me up? Should I be stronger? Is this fear and disgust I feel wrong?"

"It's not wrong if you feel it. This has been a horrible blow to your self esteem. Something about this attack torments you. Your fear is very real." He reached out and put his hand on her knee. She could feel his heat through the blankets that separated them. "Some months ago, a similar thing happened to me."

Meg's mouth fell open. "You?"

He nodded. "Yes. A criminal that Ray had known since childhood. He did not like my objections to his..." He looked at her questioningly, "...squeezing?...the local residents. When he was through with me, I looked much as you do."

Meg self consciously drew the top of her shirt closed. "How...What happened?"

"I was terrified for a long time. I no longer felt safe here, or anywhere."

"So, you understand."

"Yes, ma'am."

She picked her fork back up and began eating again. "These are really good pancakes."

Meg sat in her office a few hours later catching up on paperwork she'd mostly been too distracted to do for the past couple of days. Her trip to her apartment to change had not been as bad as she feared, and that was probably due to the fact that Fraser stood in her livingroom. The memories seemed to flee from him, and 'the voice' hadn't come back. Now, if she could just have Fraser with her every time she had to go home.

The thought made her smile. Waking up to his grandmother's pancakes every morning seemed nothing short of heaven. Meg wished she could cook like that.

Just then, the phone rang and she saw it was the in-Consulate line.

"Yes, Ovitz?"

"There's someone here to see you, ma'am."

"Who is it?"

There was a murmuring as he seemed to ask the question. The reply was sharp, causing Meg to frown. Whoever it was didn't sound very happy.

"Inspector? She won't give her name. She just demands to speak with you."

Irate persons were nothing new to Meg. Deciding to take a chance, she said, "Send her in."

Not more than two seconds after she had said that, a woman barged through her office door. Dark eyes snapped in an indignant face, and Meg searched her mind for a name. Oh, yes.

Elaine.

"I want to talk to you," she said.

"Obviously. If you didn't, you wouldn't be here. May I help you?"

"How could you do this?"

"I beg your pardon?"

The pretty black woman scowled slightly. "I heard about the lies you've been spreading."

Meg raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

"Listen, lady, I don't know what your game is." She began to pace, kneading one hand with the other. "But there's no excuse for what you've done. What do you have against him? Did he say something that insulted your pride? I've seen the way you do and say things to purposely hurt Fraser. Is this one of your power trip things? Are you getting some sort of perverse pleasure from this?"

Meg stood and said quietly, "I don't believe you know what you're talking about."

Elaine stopped her pacing and stated, "Glen Burrell is the most gentle man I know. He would never hit someone in anger. I know that and so do you. I don't know why you've got this little revenge thing going, but I want you to stop it."

"You don't..." Meg opened her mouth to protest, but Elaine quickly cut her off. The Inspector had been about to tell her everything she had told Ray in the hopes that her words could protect Elaine.

"And what was that on the phone the day before yesterday? You actually pretended that you were concerned when you *knew* that Fraser had reacted violently to your lie. That's something that makes this even worse. You dragged Fraser into this. You were even probably counting on his reaction, and of course he'd believe you because you're his Superior Officer. He's too trusting, and you took advantage of that..."

Meg knew her 'Inspector face' was as good as it had ever been. She could feel the mask as if it were an actual, physical thing. On the inside, she wasn't so calm and cool. Was the woman even listening to herself? How could she know anything about what the past week had been like? How could she assume Meg was a liar and that petty without having known her? Stubbornly setting her jaw, Meg vowed to herself that she would speak no words to Elaine that she didn't have to. Hopefully, the civilian aide wouldn't have her faith broken the hard way.

"Are you quite finished?"

"No." Elaine shook her head emphatically. "I want to know why you did it. Why do you want to destroy Glen?"

"Well, Miss Bresbriss," She finally remembered Elaine's last name. "I guess that is just the kind of person I am."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"The answer you wanted." Meg sat back in her chair as if dismissing her. Turning her eyes back to the paperwork, she continued, "Now, if there's nothing else, I've got work to do."

Meg was just getting ready to leave for lunch when there was a knock on her office door. Curiously, she said, "Come in."

Fraser entered, taking off his Stetson. The look he gave her was one of slight surprise, and Meg suddenly realized that for the first time she had not removed her glasses when he entered.

"Hello, Fraser."

"I was just headed out, ma'am, and I was wondering if there is anything you'd like before I go."

"No, thanks. I was just going to lunch."

A look she couldn't decipher went over his face. "May I join you? There is something I wish to speak with you about."

"Don't you have plans with Ray this afternoon?"

"Yes, ma'am, but Ray is going to be a little late."

Meg nodded in acceptance. "All right, but wouldn't it be just as easy to speak with me here?"

"Well, sir, what I want to speak of is of a personal nature. I'd like to do it out of uniform. Figuratively, of course, since I am, technically, still wearing my uniform and you rarely wear yours. Though on the occasions you do wear it..." Fraser trailed off. "Where was I? Oh, yes. The Consulate may not be the best place to have a personal conversation."

"It's all right, Fraser," she said, putting her glasses on the desk and sitting back down. "Have a seat. You may 'take off your uniform,' as you call it." A brief picture of the literal meaning flashed through her mind but she quickly snuffed it.

He looked uncertain, but did as she instructed. Slowly, he turned his hat in his hands, not looking at her. Meg waited patiently for several minutes before giving a heavy sigh.

"You wanted to speak with me?"

He raised his eyes. They looked into hers, shy but determined, and his hands stilled. "Yes, ma'am, but not as Constable Fraser to Inspector Thatcher, but as..." He paused and swallowed before continuing, "Ben to Meg. Is that permissible, sir?"

She regarded him thoughtfully, deciding not to tell him that she had not been Inspector Thatcher in his presence for quite awhile. Instead, she gave a little nod.

"Go ahead...Ben."

He looked a little startled, almost as if he had forgotten what he was going to say. The Stetson fell from his fingers, and Meg heard the dull thud as it hit the floor. Fraser didn't seem to notice.

"Uh..." He cleared his throat and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. "I've been thinking."

She waited patiently once more and, when he didn't continue, asked in exasperation, "About what?"

"I don't think..." He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Meg was reminded suddenly of a five year old in church. "I don't think..." An intense look came over his face and he looked deeply into her eyes. She almost stopped breathing at his expression. His next words were firm. "I don't think you should go back to your apartment."

This was *not* what she had been expecting. "What?"

"You are unhappy there. It is no longer your home, but a place you don't want to go--like the dentist."

How did he know she hated going to the dentist? "You think I should move out."

He nodded. "Today."

"But that would be foolishness. Where would I live?"

"With me."

Meg's world tilted for a moment and she had to grip her desk to keep from falling on the floor. A gasp escaped her as she tried to fight her way back to reality. Did he just say...?

Her thoughts must have been plainly on her face because he hurried to assure her, "Just until you find a new apartment. I don't mean anything improper. There's plenty of room for you, Diefenbaker, and I."

"You..." The words struggled to get through her tight throat. "You want me to move in with you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, despite his Meg/Ben request. "There is more than ample room, and I do not use the bed anyway."

"But Fraser, it would be scandalous!"

"It might be, sir, but do you not think that we have caused a stir already?"

She supposed he was right on that count. The shock was still coursing through her, and she knew she must look like a fish with her mouth hanging open this way. What was he thinking?

"Of course, I don't need an answer immediately," he continued, standing up and picking his hat off of the floor. "But I'm sure on reflection you'll discover that you don't want to sleep there tonight--and I do have an extra bed. Have a good lunch, sir."

Meg was unable to reply as he left the room. She sat in stunned silence for several moments, her mind running in about ten directions and tripping all over itself. What would such a move mean for their cases? For their careers? Was her career worth staying where she was and not feeling safe? How had Fraser known that her fear was so bad?

How was she supposed to eat now?

He knew she would come.

Something in him knew the images that haunted her in her apartment would drive her away. That was why, when he heard a knock on his door at eleven in the evening, he was not surprised.

She had smiled at him shyly and asked if she could come in. One bag was in her hand; she brought nothing more. Fraser accepted her appearance as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and this seemed to relax her. Moments later, she had slipped down the hall--with Diefenbaker--to get ready for bed. Then, with almost no words, the three of them had settled in for the night.

Now, it was morning, and once again Fraser had awakened to the knowledge of being close to Meg. He lay in his bedroll, listening to her breathing and wondering what would become of them. Between her charges against Glen, and his charges against Fraser, their lives were bound to change.

As if she had read his mind, Meg's soft voice came to him. "They're coming today."

"I didn't know that you were awake, ma'am."

"I haven't been long." Then, after a pause, "I wonder what they'll say."

"I don't know," he said honestly, turning on his side to look at her.

She was lying with her hands tucked behind her head, contemplating the ceiling. The nightdress this time was her own, but not the kind he imagined she would wear. In his mind, he always saw her (not that he ever imagined her in night attire, he lied to himself) as wearing something elegant and made of silk. Never was it a gown made to look like a Leafs jersey. He liked it though. It made her seem more human and less like a remote, untouchable object.

"They may not be supportive."

"No."

She sighed deeply. "We may lose everything, Fraser."

"Yes."

She turned to look at him then, a spark in her brown eyes. It was good to see a spark there again.

"How can you be so accepting?"

"What choice do we have? We must trust in the law. If they find I used unnecessary aggressive force, then that is what I must face."

"And if they say that Glen didn't do to me what we both know he did?"

"That won't happen." He saw sadness and fear settle on her face--two emotions he was sure she would never have let him see just two days before. "Would you like pancakes for breakfast this morning, ma'am, or would you prefer something else?"

The look brightened. "Are you going to make me breakfast every morning?"

"If you would like me to."

She sat up, stretching. "Then maybe I'll never leave."

Fraser was relieved to see that she was now smiling. If a small thing like pancakes could make her smile that way, he'd like to make sure she had as much as she wanted for the rest of her life.

He got out of his bedroll and carefully rolled it. Meg's eyes watched him, and when he was done, she got up and made the bed.

"I'm not much of a cook, but can I help?" she asked when she was done.

Soon the two of them were happily working in the kitchen. The worry about what was to come faded somewhat with their morning preparations, and Meg seemed to be almost positive when they finally left the apartment.

The sight of Turnbull already standing sentry duty made Fraser frown. It was true that yesterday and today he had arrived later than was normal for him, but it was still earlier than the others usually got there. He could not question the Constable, of course, but he looked at the Inspector. She shrugged, a look of puzzlement on her face as well.

The two of them hurried inside and up the stairs. As they approached the Inspector's office, they could hear murmuring inside.

"They're early," she whispered.

Fraser nodded in response as she opened the door. Two people were engaged in conversation. They turned when they heard the door, and Fraser was dismayed to note that one of them was Henri Cloutier. The woman, he didn't know.

"Ah, Meg. How are you?"

At the sound of his voice, Inspector Thatcher's face turned a sickly shade of white. Fraser thought he might even have detected a trembling in her slight body. He wondered at that; it seemed a much stronger reaction than her minuscule shiftings from the man that Fraser had detected the last time he was there.

Meg raised her chin and stated, "I am well, Henri, and you?"

"Surprised as hell that I had to be sent down here to clean up your mess again." He gestured to his companion. "This is Amanda Tikkanen from Internal Affairs. She is here to go through the Consulate records with a fine toothed comb. While she is doing that, I'm going to be attempting to untangle this knot you've tied in the image of the RCMP."

Fraser cleared his throat. "Pardon me, sir, but I do not believe this is Inspector Thatcher's fault. If anyone is at fault here, it is me."

Cloutier set steely eyes on Fraser. "She is in charge of the Consulate here. Everything falls on her shoulders."

"I accept that responsibility, Henri," she said coolly.

Cloutier's eyes moved to her. "I've got to admit, Meg, that I am disappointed in you. How could you let things get this out of control? Perhaps I was mistaken about your leadership strength when recommended you for promotion."

"With all due respect, sir," Fraser put in before Meg could answer. "I must atone for my own actions in this. The Inspector bears no liability."

"Your *loyalty*," The word was said with an implied sneer, "is duly noted, Constable. However, what image is presented to the public when a member of the RCMP charges a well known, respected businessman with assault? It looks as if she cannot protect herself. Do you want us to appear weak? That's not even bringing you into the account. Between your actions and the possibility of your affair coming to light, you two may single handedly be responsible for the degradation in relations between our two nations."

Anger welled up in Fraser as he snuck a peek at Inspector Thatcher. Her jaw was clenched tightly but, other than that, she appeared calm. Too calm. Her eyes once again lacked expression, and she seemed to be staring at the wall. Determined not to let his anger get the better of him, and therefore reflecting badly on Meg, Fraser remained silent, not even denying the accusation of an affair.

"Amanda and I are going to see Mr. Burrell this afternoon to ask f he will be willing to cut a deal. For your sakes, I hope he will be agreeable. And Meg."

Her face turned to look at him.

"I expected so much more of you."

Ray had been watching Elaine warily for most of the morning. She seemed normal enough, except for her back being a little straighter and her face a little more serious. She spoke to others and did her job. The only indication that she was still angry was the fact that she refused to speak to *him*.

And that wasn't even what was bothering him. Ray had known Elaine for a long time. They were good friends despite their bickering, and he often thought of her as part of his family. The problem was that ever since he'd arrived at work, his mind was haunted with images. Elaine was Glen Burrell's friend; Ray had seen what Burrell was capable of doing to his friends. What if Burrell decided that Elaine might look prettier with a little more purple or blue? Elaine had no idea how much danger she was in.

As he sat doing paperwork, Ray's eyes kept going to the envelope on his desk. Memories allowed him to see through the orange paper, though he didn't want to.

He glanced up and saw Elaine working at her desk. Once more his eyes went back to the envelope, then again to Elaine. With a sigh, he rose to his feet.

She didn't even look up as he approached her, though he knew she must have seen him. Her fingers moved just a little faster on the computer keyboard.

"Elaine, I know you aren't talking to me right now," No reaction. "But I have something I want you to see."

She finally looked up, her face full of impatience. "Go away, Ray."

"No," he said firmly, slapping his palm on her desk. "Not until you look at these. I know you think Meg--uh...Inspector Thatcher-- is lying, but before you go somewhere you can't come back from, I want to show you the other side of the argument."

Elaine rolled her eyes but put down her pen. "Okay, what is it?"

Ray knew that only people working on the case should have access to them, but when it came to Elaine's safety, he wasn't taking any chances. Carefully, he placed the envelope in her hands, wondering if--like him--they'd make her want to throw up.

The dark skinned woman opened the envelope and slid out the pictures inside. Ray critically watched her face as it turned from disinterest to horror.

"Fraser took these yesterday. A doctor has confirmed that her beating occurred the night of her date with Glen. We have eye witnesses both saying they saw them leave together that night and saying they saw them reach her apartment."

Elaine's slim fingers softly ran over one of the photographs.

"You'd have to hit something pretty hard, Elaine, to leave marks like that."

He noticed that tears had come to the woman's eyes, and she was fighting to keep them back. Ray hoped his point had hit home because it was painful to think of her being alone with Burrell. Keeping Elaine safe felt like the most important thing in his life at the moment.

"I'll take my evidence now, but I want you to think about something. Who do you want to believe, the man who has everything to lose or the woman with the bruises?"

With that, he walked away, leaving her to wrestle with the images he had given her.

*******

Meg was quietly working at her desk when Henri entered without knocking. She schooled her features, determined to show no emotion in front of this man. She had recently realized that she let her time with him greatly influence her as both a police officer and a person, and she didn't like it. The fact that someone she neither liked nor respected could shape her was distasteful. Meg was determined to change that in the future. If she had a future.

"Ah, Meg, always working."

"Hello, Henri."

"Amanda and I have just returned from speaking to the man Fraser hospitalized."

Fear flashed through her for a split second as she wondered if Henri could have fallen for Glen's charm. She then rationally told herself that it didn't matter, since Henri hadn't been on her side in the first place anyway.

"And?"

"Wait until Fraser gets in here, as it involves him as well."

As he said this, Amanda came up behind him. "Fraser will be here in a minute."

Then, Meg noticed her shift away from Henri and come further into the room. With a slight shake of her head, Meg thought, *He's getting brave if he's trying his tricks with someone from Internal Affairs.* A little wicked streak in her hoped that Amanda would get him fired.

There was a knock on the door, which Henri answered with a, "Come in, Constable."

Slightly annoyed, Meg added, "Yes, please come in, Fraser."

He did enter, and Meg felt her whole body relax. Fraser moved across the room , nodding to both Henri and Amanda, and came to rest beside Meg's desk. Meg stood herself and came around to stand beside him.

"Well?"

"Mr. Burrell was ready to deal. We've come up with something that will work for everyone."

"And that it?" She leaned back nonchalantly to perch on her desk. Fraser's support made her feel bold.

"He has offered to drop all charges against Fraser if you will in turn drop all charges against him."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, Meg. It's the easy way out."

It was tempting. If she dropped her charges against Glen, everything would go back to the way it used to be. The things that seemed irrevocable would be revoked. Fraser would go back to his innocent Mountie life, Meg would go back to her empty, masked life, and Glen...Glen would be free to hurt again.

Meg threw a glance at Fraser, whose lips were set in a grim line. She thought she could see disgust in his beautiful eyes, but she wasn't sure if it was for Glen or Henri or some strange mixture of both. She arched an eyebrow in question, and he gave a firm shake of his head.

"Fraser doesn't seem to think it's a good idea, and he's got the most to lose."

Anger made the old man's face red as he asked, "What is the problem, Constable?"

"Well, it seems to me, sir," Fraser's voice was quiet, but Meg felt a chill in his words, "If one ignores a transgression of the law, the perpetrator tends to break it again. I speak not only of Burrell, but of myself as well."

"You don't think I should run from this?"

"No, Inspector."

"Do the two of you know what you're saying?" Cloutier demanded.

Meg nodded thoughtfully. "I think so."

He sighed. "Then I have no choice but to suspend you both."

Shock went over his companion's features. "Is that really necessary?"

"In the Consulate, they would be damaging our reputation. If we hide them from view, maybe Canadians and Americans alike will forget about this."

"I don't know..."

He smiled menacingly at her. "Trust me on this."

Amanda stared at him a moment, then nodded reluctantly.

"So," Henri asked, "Are you still sure you want to go through with this?"

"Yes, sir," Ben and Meg said as one.

"Then I'll be faxing Ottawa about sending replacements ASAP. Until further notice, I'll have your badges."

He held out a beefy hand. Meg grit her teeth. Not only had Glen managed to steal her dignity, but he had stolen her job as well. Her eyes were burning fire as she said, "If that's what you wish."

His look had improved a lot, Elaine noted as she entered Glen's room. Her friend was sleeping, and he looked just like a little boy despite the bruises and cuts on his face. Fraser had worked him over good.

She went over to the bed and wiped brown hair from his forehead. At her touch, his eyelids fluttered open. When he saw her, he tried to smile through the cut on his lip.

"Hi, Elaine."

"You look much better," she told him.

"They're going to release me tomorrow."

She nodded. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck, but better."

She pulled a nearby chair closer so she could sit by the bed."Has Tommy been in to see you?"

"Yesterday. He says you never call him."

Elaine rolled her eyes. "Just because he hasn't got a life, he thinks I don't have one either."

Glen chuckled, then said, "Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

"Sorry."

She studied the man in front of her, her mind chewing on the things she'd heard...and seen. The monster they had been describing couldn't seem farther far away from this injured, soft spoken man.

He must have felt some change in her mood because he asked, "Is something wrong?"

Something inside her made her blurt without thinking, "Did you do it?"

"Do what?" Genuine puzzlement went over his features.

"Inspector Thatcher."

She saw understanding and a trace of anger go over his face. "You know me better than that, Elaine. Do you think I could actually do a thing like that?"

As she continued to look at him, a shiver went through her body.

"Oh my God."

"What?"

Elaine didn't know what it was that told her the truth, but it was something other than his charming voice and innocent smile. He was right, she did know him. She knew him so well, in fact, that she could often tell whether he was lying or sincere. All of her instincts told her that this time he was lying.

"How could you do that?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

"Now, come on, Elaine, not you too." Glen's voice turned sad. " You can't believe her over me. You're one of my last supporters."

Elaine could almost hear a ripping sound as all of her illusions were torn from her and thrown on the ground. She felt hurt and confused, as if everything shifted. Her throat had to work hard to swallow the lump in it.

She got to her feet slowly, he insides clenching. "I've got to go."

"Don't leave me, please."

"I'll be back."

As Elaine hurriedly left the room, she knew she'd always love Glen--for the little boy who worked so hard to get her brother to let her tag along--but she didn't think she'd ever be able to like him again.

"What happened to you?" she softly asked. Her only answer was the unchanging whiteness of the hospital corridors.

Meg packed the few personal things she had in a box. She could still hardly believe that Henri had suspended her when all she'd done was tell the truth. The word unfair even drifted through her mind occasionally, though she knew that few things in life were actually fair.

At least it was Buck they were sending to replace her. She adored the Sergeant and had felt a connection strong enough to reveal private thoughts to him the first time they met. Something in his kindly twinkling blue eyes made her think of her grandfather. The thought made her smile and some of her anger went away. She was still smiling when Fraser knocked on her door a couple of seconds later.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Just wondering if you're ready to go yet, ma'am."

"Not quite. Come on in and wait."

He came in slowly, a box about three quarters full in his arms.

"Have a seat." She waved towards the rarely sat in second chair.

He looked scandalized. "Ma'am?"

"Fraser..." Her comment was cut off by the phone ringing. Meg pointed to the chair, using her Inspector look, then picked it up. "Good afternoon. Canadian Consulate, Insp...um..Meg Thatcher speaking."

Before she could switch to French, a woman's voice said, "This is Inspector Thatcher?"

*Well, it was this morning,* she thought, saying, "Yes, may I help you?"

"My name is Janesta Armstrong. I saw your charges against Glen Burrell on the news."

Meg had been checking to make sure Fraser had followed her order to sit down, but the mention of Glen made her ears perk. She waited to see if the woman would continue.

"I...um...I'd like to help."

"Help how?"

She saw Fraser's gaze turn curious, and she gave him a sign to indicate she'd tell him in a minute.

"I've had a run-in with him myself." Ms Armstrong's voice was grim. "My mom discouraged me because he's a rich man with connections. She was afraid I'd get hurt, but now...Is there a place where we can meet?"

"I would love to talk to you, Ms. Armstorng...Would it be okay if an American police officer joined us? He's a friend."

She could feel the woman thinking before she answered, "I'm not sure..."

"Well, why don't you meet him before you make up your mind."

"Okay."

Meg gave her Fraser's address and they agreed to meet the next morning after Janesta had put her daughter on the school bus.

"What was that about, sir?" Fraser asked politely.

"That," she said, putting down the phone triumphantly, "was a woman who feels about Glen the same way I do."

"Another victim?"

"As far as I could tell. She didn't go into much detail. I think my case just got a little stronger."

"I agree, sir."

Meg felt a growl well up in her throat. The sound of it startled Fraser, and he almost dropped the box precariously balanced on his knees.

"Stop that!"

"Ma'am?"

"Fraser, we've just been suspended. I am not your senior officer anymore, so you can stop the 'sirs'. 'Ma'am' is okay, I guess, but considering the fact that we're living together, I'd prefer Meg."

"M...M...Meg?" She could tell it was hard for him to say. As he choked it out, he pulled on his collar.

"Yes, Meg. Do you have a problem with that?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am." Then when Meg raised an eyebrow, a firm, "Meg."

The sound of her name from his lips made her smile. "And may I call you Ben?"

"Yes," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "You may call me Ben."

Meg felt a blush start to claim her face, so she turned to clear out the rest of her things. She could feel his gaze on her and she wondered what he was thinking.

After a moment, he asked, "Do you need help...Meg?"

"No, I'm almost done." She turned and smiled at him again, trying to show how pleased she was that he followed her instruction. He returned her smile, if somewhat shyly, and Meg felt a sudden urge to hug him. She was glad that he couldn't read her mind.

Placing the last item in her box, she announced, "I think that's everything."

Ben jumped to his feet immediately. "May I carry your box for you?"

"No, I think I can manage." She hefted the box and stuck it under >her arm. "Oh, and I was wondering, is it all right if we stop by my apartment on the way home? I need to pick up some things. I didn't bring much last night."

"Certainly." He searched her face for a moment, then opened the door for her.

The two of them looked around the foyer for a minute, listening to the quiet. Then their eyes met and Meg gave Ben a little nod. Burdened with boxes, the two of them left, not once looking back.

Elaine walked up the stairs, trying to ignore the shouts coming through the paper thin walls and the graffiti. She was only partially successful. She crinkled her nose, wondering how someone with as good a sense of smell as Fraser could live in such a dump.

She was glad the elevator was broken, though. All these stairs gave her time to think about what she was going to say. Conscience propelled her to go see the Inspector and offer some kind of apology. Elaine wasn't looking forward to facing those dark eyes that could at times be as cold as ice and at others like a burning brand.

It had been a surprise when the nice young Constable at the Consulate had told her that, as of that afternoon, Inspector Thatcher no longer worked there. She felt almost like a detective as she asked around until she discovered the most likely place to find the Inspector was at Fraser's apartment.

The knowledge of what Glen had done still had Elaine feeling numb. That he could be so different in reality to the picture she had of him in her mind was earth shattering. How could she have been so wrong? And how could she meet the eyes of the two people she had been thinking such horrible things about just a couple of hours before?

As she climbed higher, fear started to surround her heart. Gulping, Elaine tried to push it away, but it just came stronger. Her throat dried and tightened, and her stomach turned over. Maybe this was a mistake.

Finally, she reached Fraser's floor. The yells didn't seem as loud, and it smelled fresher. It was almost as if just having the Mountie there made everything practically new again.

She slowly moved to the door at the end of the hallway. Soft voices floated to her through it. Elaine listened to them for a moment, then tried to gather her courage.

"Come on, Elaine."

She rubbed her palms together. Not getting the effect she wanted, she wiped them on her pants. Her right hand came up and made a fist. It moved slightly forward and stopped, right before touching the door.

Elaine stood there staring at the hand that refused to make contact. She stared at it for a long time before turning around and walking back to the stairs.

Meg awoke the next morning to the feel of weak sunshine on her face. Usually, she slept late when she didn't have to go to work and kept the curtains closed to aid in that project. Being in Fraser's home, she did not feel it was up to her to decide one way or another, so they stayed open.

She tried to deny the shaft of light that hurt her eyes even through her eyelids. When that didn't work, she rolled over and covered her head with the pillow. Her eyes had caught a glimpse of her clock radio, now the dominant feature of Fraser's bedside stand. *6 am.* Nearby, she heard Fraser stir on his bedroll. A smile spread over her face as she imagined him lying there. It was tempting to uncover her head just for the sight of him in his red longjohns.

"Good morning, Diefenbaker," came his voice, clear and unslurred despite the fact that he just woke up. "Good morning, Meg."

"It's still night, Fraser," she mumbled through the pillow.

"Nonsense, the sun is coming up."

She groaned as he started to whistle. Her ears also picked up the sound of him rolling his bedroll. She peeked out as he went to the dresser and finally got her view of him in his night attire.

Ben turned his head and caught her looking. "You might as well get up, now that you are awake."

"Just another hour?"

"We have a very important meeting this morning. We must be prepared."

This was true. Slowly, she took the pillow off of her head and blinked in the new sunlight. She took in the treat of Ben bent over to look in the bottom drawer. That in itself was almost worth waking up at six in the morning.

"Wear your blue shirt," she found herself blurting.

"Huh?" He turned, surprise on his face.

"I like it," Meg admitted, suddenly feeling shy.

"Okay."

Meg watched him a few moments more then got out of bed. Diefenbaker immediately jumped on it and curled up with his head on her pillow. "What are you, lazy or something?" she grumbled good naturedly, but the wolf ignored her.

Ben shook his head. "City life is making him soft, I must apologize."

"Oh, let him sleep. What would you like for breakfast?"

The look he gave her was so adorable, she wanted to ruffle his hair. After her admission to being a bad cook, he had cheerfully prepared all of their meals and she had done the dishes.

"Don't look at me like that. I *can* do eggs. And most cereal."

The look turned into a grin, dimpling his cheeks and making Meg chuckle.

"Eggs, please."

"You got it...Ben. Now, you go get dressed, and I'll make you some edible, if not incredible, eggs."

"Yes, ma'am." She was going to correct this slip when she noticed the twinkle in his eyes. Instead, she just shook her head and pointed to the apartment door.

She decided not to get dressed while Ben was in the bathroom. She liked puttering around his apartment barefoot and in her nightdress. It made her feel at home. In fact, she was so comfortable in his apartment, she was tempted to unnecessarily extend her apartment search.

Meg started humming as she broke the eggs over the frying pan. Her grandfather had loved scrambled eggs and every morning, when she was visiting, she watched her grandmother make them for him.

Ben came back a few minutes later, looking freshly scrubbed and boyish in his blue shirt. She grinned at him. "Look, they're coming along nicely."

He came up behind her and peeked over her shoulder. "Well done, Meg."

"Thank you." She turned around quickly, causing him to step back.

"Oh, I wanted to show you something."

He looked at her curiously, so she pulled at the bottom of her nightdress. A startled, "Meg!" escaped Ben as she pulled it up to just below her breasts. She ignored his momentary discomfort, announcing, "It's getting better."

The surprise drained form his face, and he bent to study the skin of her stomach. Gently, he reached out a finger to trace the bruise. The sensation was tickling, and Meg fought the impulse to wriggle.

"You're right. It's getting lighter."

"Pretty soon I'll be as good as new." She dropped the fabric back into place and went back to her eggs.

Something was stirring in Meg. She didn't know why or how, she just knew that it was there. It was like the sparkle on a rose in the morning or like a baby standing for the first time. It tingled through her, making her want to sing and laugh. She hadn't experienced it for so long that she almost didn't recognize it, and the fact that it resurfaced now in one of the worst points in her career was nothing less than amazing. It was joy. Something about the act of making Benton Fraser breakfast was giving her joy. In that moment, the torment the memory of Burrell brought faded. The memory was still there, clear and sharp, but it no longer had teeth to bite. Joy wiped away the pain.

Meg turned from the eggs, after shutting off the burner, to see Ben back to, setting the table. She watched him for a moment before letting her new found sense of joy propel her forward.

He jumped at the feel of her arms around him. Wrapping her arms even tighter at his startlement, she buried her face in his back, taking a deep breath. He smelled like nothing else she had ever known.

"Meg?"

"Did I ever thank you for trying to protect me? For opening your home to me? Not many people would have cared that someone beat up their bitchy boss..."

"You're not a..."

"...and even fewer would give up their beds for her. Thank you, Ben."

Softly, he replied, "Did I ever say I'm sorry? I took a vow to protect you as my senior officer and as my...my friend. I broke that vow when I allowed that man to lay rough hands on you. I should have been able to stop him. I'd do anything to turn back time and stop him. I'm sorry, Meg."

She loosened her hold and firmly turned him around. Looking into his eyes, she said, "You told me that this wasn't my fault, now I'm telling you the same thing. The one at fault here is Glen." For the first time, saying his name didn't make her voice shake. "He hurt me, for no more reason than he wanted to lash out and hurt *someone*. His desire to bring me pain is the only thing to blame."

She lifted her left hand and trailed it slowly down his face. His expression lightened, and the sad look left his eyes.

"You are just about the sweetest man in the world, Benton Fraser."

Any comment he would have made was cut off by a knock on the door. A thrill went through Meg as Ben bent down and gently kissed her cheek before going to answer it. Her fingers went to the place that seemed to tingle from that soft caress, and she knew she must have a goofy grin on her face.

"Morning, Benny, Inspector," Ray said, coming in.

"Meg," she corrected.

"Huh?"

"I am no longer an Inspector, Ray. I've been suspended."

This stopped him short and the grin dropped from his face. "What?"

"Yesterday, before we called you about the Armstrong woman. Now, sit down and have some eggs."

Ray hesitated, looking perplexed. "Why were you suspended?"

"We were both suspended, Ray," Ben offered, sitting at the table.

Meg put some eggs in his plate, then in her own and the one she grabbed out of the cupboard for their friend. She then sat down and looked pointedly at Ray until he did too.

"We were suspended," Meg finally answered his question, "Because the RCMP, and Henri Cloutier in particular, frowns on anyone who makes waves. Fraser has charges pending against him, and I am pressing assault charges."

"But you were the victim."

Meg raised burning brown eyes to his green ones. "And your point is?"

"That's like punishing you for being hurt."

"Yes, I know."

"I suppose," Meg was surprised by the sudden venom in his voice, "that they'd rather you swept it all under the rug and pretended it never happened. Just to save their reputation, they'd let a criminal go free."

"That's the gist of it, Ray," Ben admitted, after chewing and swallowing. "These are very good, Meg."

"Thanks, Ben."

"That sucks." Then Ray blinked. "Meg? Ben?"

"Well," Meg said, just a tad defensively, "We can no longer use Constable and Inspector."

A grin came to his face again and a twinkle to his eyes. "Of course not. Oh, and, hey, if you need someone to tow your boss's car out of an 'illegal' zone, or something like that, just let me know."

"Ray!" Fraser looked shocked, but Meg grinned back.

"You got it."

Around nine o'clock, there was another knock on the apartment door. Meg and Ray were playing cards at the kitchen table--quite loudly--and Ben was watching in amusement. The two of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, their former tension almost nonexistent.

At the knock, the two of them swept up the cards, making them into a deck, while Ben went to answer the door. He opened it to see a young woman, probably in her late twenties, with dark hair and a shy smile.

"Good morning, ma'am."

"Um...do I have the right place?" She had a soft, pleasant voice. "I'm looking for Margaret Thatcher."

"Yes, please come in."

As she entered, Meg came forward, giving the nervous woman a smile. "Hi. I'm Meg Thatcher. This is my...my..." She trailed off, raising her eyebrows questioningly to Ben.

"I'm her friend, Benton Fraser. And this is Detective Ray Vecchio from the Chicago Police Department."

Ben looked to Ray, finding that the detective's eyes had widened and a silly grin was planted on his face. He came forward and shook her hand enthusiastically.

"Hi, how are you? Miss Armstrong, is it?" She nodded. "I'm the detective working on Meg's case. Please sit down here at the table."

Miss Armstrong glanced at Meg, who nodded encouragement, so she followed Ray to the table.

"She looks scared to death," Meg murmured.

"But determined," Ben added. He had seen a hint of steel behind the timidity in Miss Armstrong's dark eyes. Then, raising his voice, "May I offer you some refreshments, Miss Armstrong?"

"Janesta, please. Um...May I have some water?"

"Certainly."

As Meg joined the two at the table, Ben rushed to get their guest some water. She sat in her chair, staring at the tabletop, her finger rubbing at some spot only she could see.

"Is it all right if Ray stays, Miss...Janesta?" Meg asked, causing her to look up.

"Yes, it's okay." She glanced at Ray. "He seems nice."

"He is," Ben assured her, placing the glass on the table.

"Thank you, Mr. Fraser."

He nodded politely and took the last chair. Silence descended as all four waited expectantly. Eventually, Meg placed her hand on Janesta’s arm.

"You wanted to help?"

"Yes. I was scared before. I'm not anymore." She looked fiercely into the other three pairs of eyes, her mild brown ones giving way to a spark of anger. "Just because he's rich doesn't give him the right to do whatever he wants." Her jaw tightened. "It doesn't give him the right to hurt people."

Meg's voice was soft as she asked, "Did he hurt you, Janesta?"

"I was flattered, you know? A rich guy taking the time to pay attention to me. And he treated me real good, just like a lady. I'm used to men who just want one thing. It was nice." She ran a hand over her forehead as if to erase memories. "Then one night, he just got mean. I begged him to stop, but he just kept...hitting me. I looked into his eyes, and it was like he never even heard me--like there was nothing there." She looked down at her hands. "When Lori--that's my daughter--saw me the next day, she started to cry. I cried too, and I wanted to...to lash out. Mom convinced me that I'd probably be the one to get hurt, so I pretended it never happened. That was a little over a year ago."

Ben felt anger wash over him again at this simply told story. His mind had been so focused on Meg's pain that he didn't stop to think of all the others that must have come before her. He ached for them. His anger quickly turned to surprise when Meg leaned over to clasp the woman in a hug. Not normally a physical person, it was the second hug he had witnessed her giving that day. Janesta looked as startled as Ben felt, but she returned the hug.

"Would you be willing to testify to this?" Ray asked.

"Yes, if it will help. I kinda feel responsible for what happened with..."

"Meg," Meg supplied.

"Yes, Meg. Maybe his money won't get him out if there's two of us."

"Would you come with me and make a statement?"

"I guess so. If that's what you need me to do."

"That's the next step."

Meg added, "We're going to get him, Janesta. You and I are going to make him pay for hurting us."

"And maybe I won't feel so weak anymore."

Meg stood, squeezing the young woman's shoulder before whispering, "You and me both."

Ben heard the words intended for Janesta's ears alone and winced inside. He wanted so badly to show Meg the strength he saw in her. If it would have worked, he would have done just about anything to make it so. The sad thing was that no one could make Meg believe in her strength but Meg.

Ray, seemingly oblivious to the thoughts of the others, got up and reached for his jacket. "Well, let's get at it. Ready, Miss Armstrong?"

"As ready as I'll ever be detective." She stood up, tucking a dark strand behind her ear. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Meg."

"Me too. Thank you so much for coming forward."

A sunshiny smile that turned her pretty face to beautiful went over her features.

"Thank you for being so nice to me."

Meg watched Ray and Janesta from the window as they got into Ray's car. Ben was standing beside her, so close that she could almost feel his skin against hers. It was a pleasant distraction, and one she refused to pull away from as she would have when she was his boss. In fact, she almost gave into the temptation to lean slightly to the right, closing the gap.

"Ray will care for her," Ben said, misinterpreting Meg's pensive look.

"Yes, I know." She turned to him. "He's a good friend. I'm glad I had the opportunity to know him better."

"He has done a lot for me. He's what makes Chicago seem almost like home."

Meg smiled, thinking that without Ray, Ben might not have been here when she arrived. The thought of Chicago without Ben was almost unbearable.

He returned her smile, a soft one that didn't quite dimple his cheeks. It made warmth go through her, knowing that he smiled for her alone.

"You should smile more," she told him gently.

"Likewise, ma'am."

Impulsively, she reached out and took his hand, leading him away from the window. A part of her was afraid he'd repulse the action and snatch his hand away. Instead, his fingers gently squeezed hers. Meg's newfound sense of freedom made her even more bold, and she surprised him by suddenly leaning her body against his.

"So," She searched her mind for the appropriate American word. Oh, yes. "Roomie, what do you want to do today? It seems as if we are on forced vacation."

Ben's eyes widened and he looked as if he wanted to pull at his collar. Without serge, which had been between them the last time they were this close, Meg's awareness of Ben's body tripled. She could feel his muscles move as he shifted, and heat seemed to invade her senses. His body was lean and hard from his day to day activities with Ray. Meg quietly breathed in his scent, still reminiscent of Needsfoot Oil despite his absent Sam Browne.

Ben cleared his throat. "Uh...What would you like to do?"

She was again pleased that he did not pull away. "I don't know. Something having absolutely nothing to do with the legal system. I mean, we've been given a lot to think about. With Janesta's testimony to back me up, Glen could actually get jail time, and Ray told me about the sheer volume of character witnesses willing to stand up for you. Coupled with my testimony, you have a chance of coming out of this virtually unscathed. This is all good news, but I'd like one day--just one day--to forget we're accused and accuser and do something uncharacteristic and fun. Does that make sense?"

"Actually, it does. How would you like to take a long walk in the park?"

She frowned. "That's not out of character--at least for you."

"You're right," he agreed," but I'd still like to take a walk in the park with you."

The look on his face melted her, and she bet he knew that it would. "All right, but then can we do something wild and spontaneous?"

"Like this?" he asked, humor in his voice and twinkling from his normally shuttered eyes. Puzzled, she was going to ask him what he meant when her hand suddenly felt forsaken. His fingers slipped from hers, but before she could protest, Meg was suddenly encircled in his arms. Unexpected sensations caused her to gasp.

Still shocked, she blurted, "Benton Fraser, are you trying to seduce me?"

His laugh made Meg's toes tingle. She didn't think she had ever heard a more wonderful sound. Her own arms went instantly around him and she was hugging him as if he were a large teddy bear.

"Seduce away, just promise me that I'll hear that laugh for the rest of my life."

The stillness that stole over the body in her arms made Meg aware that she might have said something wrong. Quickly, she ran her comment through her mind and realized what she had intimated. They had just become friends, openly at least, and already it seemed that she was trying to go even farther. Though that possibility was something Meg was beginning to understand she wanted, she did not want to push Ben towards something he might never be ready for.

Meg pulled away slightly, intending to apologize. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." Something in his eyes made her words stop.

"Once more your heart beats the same as mine," he whispered, leaning forward to brush his smooth cheek against hers.

She forgot how to breathe. Oh, she knew that it had something to do with lungs and air, but suddenly how to get one in and out of the other was beyond her. A tremble went through her, and Meg closed her eyes as Ben's lips brushed against her cheekbone.

"No more bruises here."

Meg's ability to think was quickly going the way of her knowledge on how to breathe.

"Only tenderness," he continued, nipping her nose and finally coming to rest against her lips.

A joyous burst like nothing she had ever known shot through Meg at that gentle touch. She wanted to grab him, prolong the kiss until her body sank into his, but it was already over. He was pulling away. Her body screamed in agony and anguish, protesting the loss of him.

To show her she wasn't being abandoned, Ben picked up her hand again. He caressed it with a thumb before speaking.

"Shall we go for that walk? I'm looking forward to the wild spontaneity that will follow."

Meg blushed as she found herself doing so very often around this man. She nodded, not speaking, and the three of them--for Diefenbaker followed behind--went out the door. It hit her then, knowledge that was comforting and made the trial ahead seem unimportant. She was in love with Benton Fraser. She loved his eyes, his lips, his hair; his heart, his soul, his occasional ramblings. Everything that made him who he was. And now she had proof that he cared for her as well. What did anything else matter compared to that? Whatever happened, would happen, but she was not afraid. Whatever happened, they would face it together.