I've never been happy with the end of Perfect Strangers, so I wanted to write a less distressing resolution.
All comments welcome, thank you kindly.
"Go away, Dad." Benton Fraser's voice was low, but firm. He lay back on his makeshift bed and closed his eyes as tears started to well. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking as he spoke.
Bob Fraser sighed, but he understood. He wanted to apologise to his son – he owed him that much – but he couldn't find the right words and besides, he could see that Benton did not want to talk to him now.
"I'm sorry, son," he said.
The younger Fraser sighed, sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He glanced over his shoulder, but he already knew that the ghost of his father had disappeared.
Fraser wiped the tears from his eyes with his thumb. "Why am I even doing this?" he asked, waving his wet thumb towards Diefenbaker who was sitting loyally at the foot of the Mountie's bed.
Dief couldn't think of a response. The actions of humans left him dumbfounded at the best of times.
Fraser slowly ran his tongue over his still quivering bottom lip and pondered.
Are these tears of sadness because the prospect of having a child had been snatched away?
Maybe. More specifically, was he sad because the prospect of having a child with Meg Thatcher had gone? Maybe they weren't tears of sadness at all. He didn't even know if he was ready to have children, not yet anyway, and even less sure if he wanted Meg to be the mother of any children he might have.
Fraser shook his head. No. It was the humiliation that had brought him to tears...and that was entirely the fault of Sergeant Robert Fraser, deceased.
Well maybe not entirely his fault, Benton conceded, but if his father hadn't put ideas into his head about grandchildren and getting his 'leg over' with the Inspector, Benton would never have walked into her office carrying flowers and...
What did I do, exactly? Proposition her. That's what I did. Oh dear lord...
He closed his eyes again.
What an idiot.
She'd been talking about adoption, that's all. She'd wanted him to vouch for her suitability and good character, not to live happily ever after with him.
Fraser felt a wet nose nudging his hand. He opened his eyes and patted Dief on the head. "What was I thinking?" he asked his wolf. "I've made an utter fool of myself. I wouldn't be surprised if she gets me transferred out of here immediately."
Dief yapped a response.
"Well, maybe not," Fraser agreed, "but perhaps I should request a transfer anyway? What must she think of me now?"
Dief barked and pawed at Fraser's hand.
Fraser smiled down at him. "Thank you kindly for the vote of confidence," he replied, "but you're wrong. It was my fault."
Dief growled.
"I can't really blame him, he's dead," replied Fraser. "I shouldn't have listened to him. I know the Inspector better than he does. I should have been stronger. I shouldn't have fallen for his sentimental nonsense, but I wanted...at least I thought I wanted..." he trailed off.
Dief barked again, but Fraser really didn't want to get into this conversation now. "Sleep," he commanded, although whether the instruction was aimed at Dief, or himself, he wasn't sure.
Dief dutifully trotted back to his blanket and curled up.
Fraser picked up the old copy of 'A Farewell To Arms' that had belonged to his father. It was one of the few possessions to have survived the fire at his old apartment as it had been locked safely in the trunk with his father's journals. He'd read it, perhaps, twenty times or more already, but he hoped the familiarity would calm him.
Fraser hated losing control of his emotions. Control kept him sane. Once that control was lost he was open to the loneliness and all the other dark thoughts that he fought so hard to keep at bay. He could not afford to let that happen.
He stared at a page of the book for a few minutes, but he really wasn't in the mood to read tonight. He snapped the book closed, placed it carefully on his desk and instead recited an old Inuit relaxation mantra until he fell asleep.
Fraser put himself into such a deep sleep that he slept through his five o'clock alarm, much to Diefenbaker's delight. Instead, the Mountie was woken abruptly by a loud knocking on the door of his office.
Fraser sat bold upright, momentarily disorientated. The angle of the sunlight streaming through the window suggested it was past nine o'clock, but that couldn't be right, surely? He fumbled around for his watch and rubbed his eyes with the other hand, desperately trying to focus.
The knocking came again, then a voice. "Fraser! Are you in there?" It was Inspector Thatcher.
The colour drained from Fraser's face. He glanced at Dief and briefly contemplated ignoring his superior officer, but his conscience got the better of him and he jumped up to open the door.
"Oh." Meg was startled by his appearance. "I...I assumed you'd be dressed by now. Are you...are you ill?"
"Not as far as I'm aware, Sir," replied Fraser. He glanced down at himself. He was still in his red longjohns. It hadn't occurred to him to make himself look more respectable before opening the door to the Inspector. He half closed the door and peered around it at her. "I'm terribly sorry, Sir," he continued, fighting the burning sensation in his cheeks. "I, um, I overslept."
"You overslept?" Meg could hardly believe her ears.
This has to be my fault. He never oversleeps. I've done this to him.
"Constable Fraser," she said, curtly, because it was the only way she knew how to speak to him when her heart was aching this way. "Please put on some clothes immediately and report to my office."
"Yes, Sir," replied Fraser.
The Inspector left and Fraser closed the door. "You see?" he said to Dief. "I was right, she is going fire me...again."
He got dressed in his brown uniform at lightning speed and walked along the hall with a heavy heart.
"Come in," called the Inspector when he knocked on her door. She was sitting behind her desk, squinting at her computer screen.
"I must apologise again for oversleeping," Fraser began. "Last night I was rather, er, um...and I had some difficulty..."
"So did I," she interrupted him. She switched off her computer, determined to give him her full attention. "Sit down." She hadn't meant it to sound like an order.
Fraser complied, sitting down in the antique wooden chair on the other side of her desk. Her previous comment had puzzled him.
Has she been lying awake all night thinking about this too? Or perhaps she's just trying to think of a suitable location to transfer me to.
"Constable," she began, getting to her feet. "I wanted to...that is, I've been thinking a lot about...well, about what happened yesterday."
"With General Bowman?" Fraser enquired with a frown.
"No!" exclaimed Thatcher. This was not going to be easy. "With...with us."
"Us, Sir?"
"Yes, Fraser," replied Meg. She walked across the room, deliberately avoiding eye contact. She couldn't look at him yet, not until she'd said what she wanted to say.
"I'm not sure that I..."
"Don't give me that," snapped Meg, spinning round to face him. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Ah."
"And," she paused before continuing. "And, I wanted to apologise."
"Apologise? But you have nothing to apologise for, Sir," replied Fraser. That was the last thing he'd been expecting. None of this was her fault...was it? It was all his fault for listening to the sentimental ramblings of a dead man.
"Fraser, please," begged Meg. "Let me speak."
"Yes, Sir."
"And stop calling me Sir," she added. "This conversation has nothing to do with official RCMP business, this is a...well, a personal conversation."
Fraser swallowed hard. Sweat started to bead on the back of his neck. "What would you prefer I call you?" he asked.
Meg sighed. "I don't know," she admitted.
Fraser nodded. Now he was very confused. "Well, thank you for your apology," he said quickly, jumping to his feet. "Although, with respect, I feel it was uncalled for. May I be dismissed?"
"No, Fraser!" exclaimed Meg, throwing her hands in the air in despair. "I haven't even started yet."
"Oh dear," he muttered under his breath.
"The thing is, I misled you yesterday," she said. "Not deliberately, I assure you, but I did. I had no idea that you'd misunderstood my intentions, but with hindsight I realise that I did not make myself very clear."
"I should have asked for clarification before jumping to conclusions," replied Fraser. "I apologise for being so...so presumptuous."
"Fraser, stop apologising! I'm the one trying to apologise here."
"Yes, Sir... er, Ma'am, er..." he let out a sigh of exasperation and rubbed at his eyebrow with his thumbnail.
"Try 'Meg'," she suggested, with a nervous smile. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but it felt right.
Fraser felt his face start to turn crimson. He'd never called her by her first name. She'd called him 'Ben' once, but only as part of a ruse. "I...I..." he stammered. He didn't know how to react to her suggestion.
"Why do you and I have this trouble?" asked Meg. It was more of a rhetorical question, although if Fraser had been able to provide an answer - and preferably a solution, too - she would have been overjoyed.
"Trouble with what, exactly?"
"Communication, Fraser!" she exclaimed. "We've known each other for a while, now. We trust each other...don't we? So why can't we just have a conversation like two normal people?"
Fraser stood silently. He studied the intensity in her face as she spoke. Her voice rose in pitch as she got more and more agitated and her eyes became brighter...more vivid in colour...more beautiful...
Oh dear...
Meg took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that if I had come to you and simply asked for your support as I worked through the adoption process, I could have avoided..." she trailed off and closed her eyes. The image of him standing in her office - in almost the same spot he was standing in now - holding a bunch of flowers was burnt into her mind. The look on his face when he'd realised his mistake was burnt in stronger. Deeper. The hurt she'd caused him. The humiliation as he'd turned tail and virtually run out of her office would haunt her forever.
"In my experience," said Fraser, finally breaking his silence. "Some subjects are not easy to broach."
"Well that's true enough," she agreed.
"And," he continued, his voice much quieter now. "Certain subjects are more difficult to broach with someone with whom you have a...complicated relationship."
Oh god, is that how he sees it? Well, he has a point. That's exactly what it is. Complicated.
"Complicated by our...contact," she said.
"Indeed."
Meg opened her mouth to speak again, but then she realised that everything she'd planned to say had gone from her mind. She'd gone over and over it the previous night, choosing the right words that would make him understand, but now all of them seemed meaningless.
"Fraser," she began. Her voice was soft and warm. It was a voice she rarely used. It was rarely the right time, but this moment seemed like the right time. "If I ever decide to have a child of my own - a biological child - you would be the first person...the only person, I would turn to. You do know that, don't you?"
Suddenly she realised that she'd been walking towards him as she spoke. He'd remained frozen to the spot. Frozen with fear, or anticipation, she wasn't sure, but she hoped in her heart it was the latter. Now they were face to face and she was looking into his deep blue eyes.
For god's sake say something...Ben...
"Yes, I know," he replied. His tongue darted out and swished across his bottom lip.
Meg felt her heart beating in her chest.
What now? This wasn't supposed to happen? Not again...
Fraser reached out and brushed against her hand with his. He didn't understand how she made him feel, but he didn't have to understand. He realised that now; he just had to go with it. He tilted his head slightly and moved towards her.
Meg closed her eyes. Perhaps he was right all along? We could make babies together, we could be happy, it could work...maybe...
She could feel his warm breath on her face now. She daren't open her eyes. Her breath hitched in anticipation...but then suddenly something inside her snapped and she pulled away.
Fraser bolted to attention, his eyes wide watching her walk to the window. What happened? What did I do wrong? I thought she wanted...
"Have I ever told you about my parents, Fraser?" Meg's voice was back to normal.
"Er, I don't believe so," he replied, tugging at his ear lobe.
"Career RCMP officers, both of them," she explained, staring out onto the street outside. "My father moved quickly through the ranks to Chief Inspector and my mother was heading the same way, until she became pregnant with me. I was their 'happy accident' - my mother's words."
"I see."
"In those days of course it was unusual for a woman to return to work after having a baby so her career was effectively over," she continued. "I had a happy childhood, Fraser," she added.
Fraser wasn't sure why she'd felt the need to add that last part.
"As did I," he said. It wasn't strictly true. Some parts of his childhood had been anything but happy, but he had a feeling that her statement had been loaded with similar sentiments.
"I didn't want to be like her," continued Meg, turning round to face him. "She fully supported my decision to join the RCMP and I vowed that I would follow the career path my mother had been unable to. I saw what my father had achieved and I wanted the same. He wasn't a field officer like your father, of course, but his strengths were in other areas. I'm just like him, Fraser. I have skills, I'm good at this job."
"Yes, you are," Fraser agreed. "Although..." he hesitated, unsure if she would take it the wrong way. "Although I thought you enjoyed field work."
"I do," she admitted. "But I'm not you, Fraser. I don't think... oh, I don't know. Maybe I am approaching my career all wrong? Perhaps there's another alternative? It doesn't have to be a choice between field work and sitting behind a desk."
"No, not at all," agreed Fraser. "Perhaps you should make enquiries with Ottowa about vacancies in other areas of the RCMP?"
Meg's heart sank and it was all she could do to stop herself bursting into tears. He wants me to find another job? Of course he does. It's the only logical solution to this situation were in.
Fraser immediately realised his mistake. "I don't mean immediately," he said, quickly trying to backtrack. "I was just talking about...well, the future."
So he doesn't see himself in my future...no, of course he doesn't. Neither do I.
Fraser hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. He hadn't meant to be so dismissive of whatever they had, but he had got used to not thinking too far ahead. He had learnt the hard way not to make plans for the future, because things never worked out the way he planned them. Things changed, people left him, that was how it always worked. "You know, the future is a long way off," he said, forcing half a smile onto his lips.
Meg nodded and smiled back. "Which leaves us in the here and now," she replied. "And I want to fix things between us."
"Fix things?" Fraser was puzzled. "In what way?"
"I need to be able to talk to you. We need to be able to talk to each other," she explained. "But I don't know how to do that? There's this barrier between us and we have to get past it if we're ever to..." she trailed off. All these thoughts of the future had unsettled her. Her future had always been so clear in her mind, but now here was Fraser and he was putting ideas into her head that she'd never had before. Not with his words so much as simply with his presence.
Fraser tugged at his ear again. "The Chicago public library has an excellent psychology section," he began. "Perhaps I should attempt to educate myself on the subject?"
Meg laughed. "I don't want you to research...us!"
Fraser opened and closed his mouth. He had nothing else to offer her...except himself. He walked over to the window to join her.
For a brief second she considered turning away, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. The way he moved, the determination in his face, it stirred feelings inside her that she fought so hard every day to keep locked away. She wanted to run to him, she wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her like she'd never been kissed before, but then everything would change and...
What do I really want? I have no idea.
"Talk to me," said Fraser, suddenly. He gently took her hand in his and smiled.
Meg swallowed. "What about?" she breathed.
"About...about your feelings." Fraser could hardly believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth.
"I...I think I'm confused," she admitted. "I'm not sure what I feel."
"Yesterday you wanted to become a mother," replied Fraser. "But from what you've just told me..."
"You see!" Meg interrupted him. "My head is spinning and it's not like me at all. I don't have any desire to be pregnant, or give birth, yet part of me wants the chance to raise a child."
"I'm sure you're not alone in that," said Fraser. "Other women..."
"I'm not like other women!"
No, you're not at all...
"I think it was a mistake," Meg sighed. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. There'll be no more talk of babies, or adoption. Understood?"
Fraser was disappointed by her sudden change in tone. She was giving him orders again...and yet she was still holding his hand.
"Understood," he nodded.
Meg looked down at their interlocked fingers. His large hand enveloped hers and the warmth of his touch radiated through her skin. "So...what do we do about this?" she asked.
Fraser hesitated for a moment, part of him was still unsure what they were doing. Then he felt her pulse quicken and realised there was little point stopping now. He cupped the side of her face with his other hand and lifted it so she could meet his gaze. "About this?" he said in a low voice.
Meg nodded slowly. "Yes," she whispered.
"I don't know," he replied as he moved towards her. It was the truth. He didn't know what to do. He didn't understand this attraction between them. They could never be together, it would never work, he know that and deep down he knew that Meg knew it too. Yet here they were, their bodies so close together again, their lips about to touch and it was what both of them wanted right now. He didn't care about the future. This was what he wanted at this moment in time.
Meg's whole body tingled as he pressed his lips against hers. She squeezed his hand tightly and responded to the kiss the only way she knew how. She let his tongue explore her mouth and marvelled – as she had the first time this had happened – at the sensual mix of intense passion and tenderness he exuded.
Fraser moved his other hand from her cheek to the back of her head, running his fingers through her short hair as he kissed her. He felt her body temperature rise to match his.
Meg wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled his body closer. She could feel his heart pounding just as hers was and she let out a whimper. She pushed herself against him, every instinct she had was telling her that this was right. Meg felt the cold, brass buttons of his uniform through her flimsy blouse. She wanted to undo those buttons, to remove the heavy brown jacket and shirt that were keeping his skin from touching hers, but she resisted.
Fraser had to move his leg to brace himself against her force. He barely reacted in time, the intensity of the kiss had taken him by surprise and his razor sharp senses were unusually foggy. He wanted this moment to last forever. His mind was lost; nothing mattered any more except this kiss.
Meg needed air. She knew Fraser could probably go on like this for hours, but she needed to breathe. She didn't want it to end though, she was ready for more. She needed more. She wanted to take him by the hand and lead him up to the Royal Suite where the king size bed stood ready and waiting. She wanted to make love with this man all day and all night and never again have to think about anything else...but they couldn't. They both knew that. What would happen afterwards? Would she be reminding him about his 10989B report as she retrieved her panties from the floor?
No, we can't…but this is good, so good…
She began to see stars.
Oh yes, air…
Fraser realised that she was struggling and he reluctantly broke away. Meg laid her head against his chest and panted hard. He wrapped his arms around her and allowed her to catch her breath. "Are you alright?" he asked eventually.
Meg couldn't speak; she just nodded.
"Should I...should I leave now?" he asked.
"No!" she exclaimed, lifting her head briefly to look into his eyes. "Not yet," she breathed. "Please."
"I'm sorry, I got carried away," said Fraser.
Meg's breathing had started to slow. "Don't you ever apologise for doing that again," she scolded with a twinkle in her eye.
Fraser nodded and held her for a while longer. He would stay here like this all day if she needed him to.
"I thought about going upstairs," she admitted.
Fraser swallowed hard. "As did I," he replied.
"But...we..." she began.
"I know," he replied. She didn't have to say it. He understood. They both did. They couldn't. Maybe one day things might change, but not today.
"If things were different... If I was different..." she began, but her voice cracked and she couldn't speak any more. She bit hard on her lip to stop herself from crying. It didn't work and of course she couldn't hide it from him.
"Sshhh," Fraser tried to soothe her. "Please don't." Why did this have to hurt so much? He kissed the top of her head. "I understand," he added and he did. He understood that this was all they had. Whatever it was, it was all they could ever have. He was finally starting to feel more at ease with it now, though and he hoped that she was too.
Meg lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him with wet eyes. "Thank you," she said and kissed him again, briefly and tenderly on the lips.
"For what?" he asked, releasing her from his arms.
Meg shrugged and smiled. "For making me feel...just for making me feel," she said.
Fraser nodded and, without daring to look back, he walked out of her office.
Outside he almost tripped over Diefenbaker. "Sorry," he mumbled as he walked slowly down the hall. He stopped and looked back towards Meg's office. His heart ached, but his head was clearer than it had been in a long time. He gently touched his lips with his fingertips, savouring her taste.
"Sorted things out, did you?"
The voice of Bob Fraser nearly made his son jump out of his skin. "For god's sake, Dad!" he exclaimed. If he thought it would do any good, he would have rung the dead man's neck.
"Sorry, I wasn't spying on you," Bob tried to explain. "I do have some respect for your privacy."
"Oh really?" replied Fraser sarcastically. "I'd never have guessed."
Bob chose to ignore the sarcasm. "Well?" he prompted. "Are you two all sorted, now?" He needed Benton's reassurance. Forgiveness, maybe.
Fraser looked at the ghost incredulously. "What does that even mean?" he asked.
Bob shrugged. "Well, it's just that I think I may have...well...I may have been wrong yesterday."
"Do you think?" Sarcasm came so easily to the younger Fraser, once he let his barriers slip.
"Although I do really want grandchildren…"
"Dad!"
Bob thought it best to drop the subject of continuing the family line. For now, anyway.
Fraser turned back and stared at the office door again. "I don't love her, Dad," he said, wistfully.
It wasn't as simple as that, but it was the only explanation he could give. Part of him wanted to run back to her, to sweep her off her feet, to forget everything and be with her. What they had was passionate, there was no mistaking that, but otherwise what did they have? They had nothing in common. For most of the time, when they weren't locked in a lascivious embrace, he annoyed the hell out of her. Meg had said it herself, they can't even communicate properly.
But maybe that's how we communicate? Maybe it's not about words after all?
A smile danced at his lips. It really was starting to make some sort of sense.
We need to do that again, and more...there are still things to resolve between us. If the only way we can express ourselves is physically, then so be it...
Fraser's thoughts drifted. They definitely still needed to work through some things. So much more needed to be addressed...he felt his pulse quicken again at the prospect and he had to breathe slowly to keep control.
Bob studied his son closely.
Whatever they were doing in there, it wasn't talking was it.
Bob wished Benton could have grown up more like his mother. He didn't want his son to grow up with the same emotional issues he'd struggled with himself.
If only Benton had grown up with Caroline in his life, maybe he would have learnt how to express his feelings?
As hard as it was for Bob to admit, keeping your feelings bottled up inside was not always the right thing to do.
Of course there's a time and a place – there's nothing worse than men talking about their feelings all the time – but sometimes, when you're in the company of someone you trust, someone who cares about you, even Mounties need to release their emotions. I learnt that lesson too late. Don't wait until you're dead to find out, son.
Fraser turned back and was surprised to see that his father was still there.
"I have work to do, Dad," he said, dropping a not-so-subtle hint.
Fraser felt a whole lot better than he had yesterday. Whatever happened next with Inspector Meg Thatcher would happen and Fraser would deal with it...well, he would deal with it somehow.
"Of course, son," replied Bob and he disappeared, content that Benton's life was back to what, to him at least, was normal.