Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the superman – a rope over an abyss.
Friedrich W. Nietzsche
"Hey, uh, Inspector, this is Ray."
Meg stifled an irritated growl as the replacement detective began speaking. It had been a long day of tedious meetings with pompous officials from headquarters.
"Fraser wanted me to call and tell ya he won't be makin' dinner tonight."
That got Meg's full attention.
"Why can't he contact me himself? Where is he? What's happened?" she demanded.
"He's okay, really. He's Fraser, ya know. Thing is, he was shot in the head. We're at Cook County General Emergency Room."
Meg hung up.
"Constable Turnbull!" she bellowed.
The junior officer stumbled over his own feet coming to a complete stop before her desk. Meg didn't look up, only continued gathering her jacket, briefcase and purse.
"Fraser's had an emergency. I'm headed to the emergency room. If anyone asks, answer with 'I'll have her call you back'. Take messages for me. Do NOT use the stove, or the toaster, or the coffee maker." Meg paused, finally looking at her junior officer.
"Do NOT use anything in the kitchen. Period." She nodded before stalking toward the officer door.
"Yes, Inspector," Turnbull intoned with all seriousness.
Meg hoped he didn't burn the consulate down.
Cook County General Emergency Room ….
Meg blasted through the automatic doors, a grim set to her jaw and fear in her eyes. A lanky blond appeared from the left on an intercept course.
"Hey, Inspector," Ray K. jogged the few paces across the full waiting room. Meg stopped short. She felt little patience for him at the best of times.
"Yes, Detective." She took a deep, calming breath.
"Fraser's doctor says he's okay, that it looked worse than it was."
"Where is he? I want to see for myself," Meg demanded, trying to step around the detective blocking her route.
"Uh, Inspector, don't give him a hard time, okay. It wasn't his fault, he …"
"Step aside, Detective." Meg ordered before he could finish. A moment later she breezed into the E.R.
"Constable Fraser?" She raised her voice, earning glares from the nurses. A moment later she saw Diefenbaker stick his head out between two privacy curtains.
"There he is," Meg muttered to herself. She threw aside the side of the curtain. An old lady lay on her side, her gown hitched up beneath her breast. A mound of white, wrinkled skin crisscrossed with varicose veins and stretch marks gleamed in the overhead light. A startled nurse yelled as Meg and the old lady locked eyes. The nurse held a one liter bottle, a thin tube running from it to an unknown destination between the old lady's butt cheeks.
"Oh dear," Meg breathed before clasping her left hand over her mouth.
"Hey!" the old lady screamed. As she struggled to sit up a gush of yellow clay colored feces and fetid smelling liquid sprayed out. A gust of sulfurous air followed, sounding like pressurized thunder.
Meg immediately retched, her throat constricting as her stomach heaved upward. She jerked the curtain closed again before lurching toward a garbage can sitting between exam bays.
"Meg?" Fraser's voice barely penetrated the sound of her retching. Meg had emptied her stomach. When she looked up Fraser held a damp wash cloth and a plastic cu of water. She accepted the wash cloth first; patting her mouth clean. Next came the water, which she gladly swished around her mouth before spitting into the trash.
\ "That was horrible." She shivered as Fraser put his free arm around her, his other hand around an IV pole. He led her into an exam bay two curtains down.
"Can I get you anything else, Meg?" Ben asked as she sat down in a hard, plastic chair. She looked up at him as she stood in front of her. Finally, she noticed his head wreathed in bandaging. It ran the circumference of his head just over the ears.
"What happened?" Meg rose to her feet to look him over for herself.
"It's just a graze," Ben answered softly, avoiding eye contact.
"Answer me, Ben. What happened?"
"Great, now he's digging at his eyebrow. He thinks I'll be angry." She sighed internally. "He's probably right." Since finally breaking the barrier between them two months ago Meg had tried to contain her temper in an effort not to push Ben away.
FLASHBACK
Meg took a deep breath as she straightened her skirt. She let it out before knocking on Fraser's door. No. Benton's door, she reminded herself. This wouldn't work if she started out formally.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Meg heard the wolf bark to alarm Ben . Then she heard footfalls and the door knob turning.
"Inspector Thatcher, sir, how …" He blinked when she held up a hand to silence him.
"This isn't official business. Please, call me Meg." The wheels in his mind spun, the Mountie Mask in place.
"Please, come in, Meg." Ben stepped aside for her.
Meg caught his scent as she swallowed before stepping over the threshold. This was Fraser's inner sanctum; unknown territory.
After the door closed Ben asked, "Would you care for some coffee, tea perhaps?"
She felt him step closer, trying to get in front of her in the small office.
"No, thank you, Benton." She hesitated. If I don't say this bluntly I never will, she thought.
"Ben , I've come to ask if you'd like to have coffee with me Saturday morning?" She laced her fingers to keep from fisting her hands.
"It's been months since you asked me to coffee after the NAFTA fiasco. I thought," She couldn't help babbling. "that is if you'd like to."
Meg remembered how she and Ben had passed her car keys back and forth after de la Croix's arrest. Finally, he'd kept them and driven to an all-night cafe.
"Yes, I'd like to very much." His words sounded rushed. Meg knew the feeling.
"Very well. I'll see you Saturday at 10 AM at Nyala. It's a casual place." Meg surprised herself by smiling. Even better, Ben smiled back.
"Good evening, Meg." His voice lingered over her name to her ears.
Saturday …
10 o'clock …
Ben stood outside Nyala holding a single, yellow rose as Meg knew he would. He alternately smoothed his dark hair, which had been trimmed, and talked to the wolf. Meg smiled knowing he had the jitters as well.
Her attention turned to her own appearance. She rubbed the tops of her penny loafers against the back of her jeans' legs before brushing lint from her mint colored sweater. Fiddling with a small, gold charm on an 18 inch gold chain Meg crossed the street.
Here we go, she thought as her stomach clenched.
Ben caught sight of her almost as soon as she stepped foot in the crosswalk. Meg smiled, stifling the urge to wave.
"Hello, Ins, ah, Meg," Ben greeted her, his ears turning pink after his gaffe.
"Ben , good to see you." She took the yellow rose he offered, putting the fragrant flower to her nose.
"Your suggestion we have coffee came as a surprise."
Meg noted a bit of caution in his voice and wariness in his eyes as they waited for a table.
I'll have to remedy that, she vowed.
"I didn't ask you to coffee lightly. Honestly, I'm tired of being two different people. At work I'm Inspector Thatcher. Nothing penetrates Inspector Thatcher's armor." She ran the pad of her thumb over one of the rose's thorns.
"Meg on the other hand feels everything." She let the thorn pierce her skin until a drop of blood welled. Before she could put her thumb to her mouth Ben gently placed his handkerchief over it and gathered her hand between both of his.
"Thank you," Meg breathed.
"You're most welcome." The shy smile he gave her made Meg's heart drop.
"Shall we?" Ben offered his arm to escort her farther inside. Meg nodded before slipping her arm through.
Coffee turned into lunches and then to dinners until Meg found herself outside the Vecchio house.
"They are going to shred me. Ray can't stand me and Francesca sent a black rose when she found out we were dating," Meg fussed as she stood on the front Welcome mat.
"Nonsense. The Vecchios are lovely people. Ray sent the rose as a prank and signed Francesca's name to it. You'll be fine," Ben assured her, squeezing her hand before ringing the doorbell.
"Hey, Fraser," Tony, Ray's brother-in-law shook his hand.
"Fraser's here, and he brought a date!" the man yelled. All of the Vecchios came out of the woodwork. Ma Vecchio stepped out of the kitchen, Francesca from the dining room and Maria trailing the kids from upstairs.
"Tony said you brought a date. Where is she?" Ray made a big deal of looking around Meg. Mischief twinkled in the blond detective's blue eyes.
"Ray," Ben grumbled as he handed him their coats. Meg held onto the bouquet she had brought.
"Very funny, such an underwhelming wit," Meg said dryly. Ray flashed her a wicked, teasing grin in reply.
"Come in, Ben . Introduce us to your young lady," Ms. Vecchio shooed her brood away before taking Meg's free hand.
"Ms. Vecchio, this is Meg Thatcher, my, ah, my girlfriend." Ben dug at the collar of the blue t-shirt he wore under a black and blue, flannel shirt. Meg ignored his discomfort in favor of dealing with her own as Ms. Vecchio pulled her into a stifling hug. She awkwardly patted the buxom woman's shoulder.
Everyone turned when they heard the back door slam and a loud, feminine scream from outside. Meg wondered if the window glass would shatter.
"What the …" Ray muttered, hands on his hips.
"Where's Frannie?" Maria asked looking around the comfortably large living room.
"Oh dear," Ben breathed in surprise. A moment later the backdoor opened and closed; quietly this time. Francesca walked out of the dining room a minute later. She wore a cheerful expression, dark eyes wide and her smile from ear-to-ear.
"Are you alright, Frannie?" Maria asked, brow furrowed in concern.
"I'm fine. Don't I look fine?" Frannie answered brightly, her voice almost shrill.
"Everyone come, eat. I have been cooking all day." And her stained apron attested to it.
"First there is acquacotta, soup with vegetables. Francesca and Maria baked cannelloni, stuffed with spinach and smothered in white sauce. For Ray I made baccala alla vicentina, fish. With that there is panzanella, with fresh greens from the farmer's market. For dessert Maria made cassala and Tony surprised us with panna cotta." The woman beamed with pride, though she'd never admit to it.
"That sounds wonderful, Ms. Vecchio." Ben complimented her sincerely. Meg followed her and the others into the dining room. Bread sticks sat in the middle of the large table. Ms. Vecchio quickly put Meg's flowers in a vase and set them in the center of the table. Colorful dishes lined the length of the pristine, white tablecloth.
As she stood looking at the gathered family – and Ray – Meg felt a small, warm hand tug at hers. Peering down she looked into the toddler's light brown eyes, dimpled cheeks and couldn't resist swinging the toddler up onto her hip. The little girl immediately laid her head on Meg's shoulder and slid her arm around Meg's neck. Her soft, round body fit perfectly against Meg.
Meg looked over at Ben, who'd seen the whole interaction from his expression. She shrugged as if to say, What else could I do? Meg's heart melted when she met Ben's eyes and saw an adoration and affection no man had ever had for her.
"Here, let me have her. I hope Melody didn't bother you." Maria reached for the little girl snuggled against Meg.
"Oh, no, I don't mind." Meg reluctantly handed little Melody over to Maria. Ben caught her eye, winking to make her smile. At that moment Meg wanted a baby, Ben's baby, badly enough to cry. He felt it, too. His eyes had told her so.
AFTER DINNER AT THE VECCHIO'S …
Meg walked slowly beside Ben as they strolled through the underground parking garage beneath her apartment building. She looked over at him when Ben squeezed her hand.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, pausing beside a black Cadillac.
"Dinner. Melody mostly. It's an unusual name." She shrugged. A damn sight better than Margaret, she added mentally. Benton's hands rested on either side of her waist as he listened.
"There's more," he stated with his usual, uncanny knowing.
"What would you name your children?" Meg felt nervous asking. They'd only been dating a short time. She watched as he looked off toward where Diefenbaker sniffed tires before lifting his leg.
"If it were a girl I would name her Hannah or perhaps Martha. My mother's name was Caroline." Good, solid names. Typical of Ben.
"What about for a son? Robert like your father?" Meg guessed. She rested her hands on his shoulders, her head leaning against the column to look up at him comfortably.
"Yes, perhaps," he answered quietly.
"Have you chosen any names for your children?"
Meg thought back to her teens and all the dreams and plans she'd had for herself. So naive, she scolded herself silently.
"Definitely NOT Henri," she joked with a shudder.
"Ah, no," Ben chuckled, his blue eyes merry.
"There are so many names. Julia for a girl and Thomas for a boy I suppose." Two of many she'd considered over the years.
"What if you have twins?" Ben's voice, teasing and suggestive, sent a chill up Meg's spine.
"I'll name one and you name the other," she answered softly, lost in the feel of his hot hands and the way he kept glancing at her lips. A moment later they'd closed the distance between them, bodies pressed flush. Meg felt her back hard against the column as Ben taunted her mouth with his tongue. Meg resisted only a split second. His tongue ventured past her lips tentatively at first, seeking permission or perhaps exploring. For a moment Meg felt a cold wind against her face and the train car rocking beneath her boots again.
I've wasted so much time avoiding this relationship, she realized when Ben pulled back to breathe.
"I – I love you," Meg said aloud, her heart beat thundering in her ears.
"And I love you," Ben raised his hand, cupping her cheek, his thumb wiping away a stream of tears from her cheek. Meg buried her cheek against Ben's shoulder.
"I've never told anyone that but my family. You're the only one I've felt like this about." She sighed, her tears dry.
"Once, I thought I loved someone." Before he could go on, Meg gently put her finger over his lips.
"You don't owe me an explanation, or an excuse or reasons. We've both made choices but right now we choose each other." She wanted to alleviate the pain she saw in his face. The Metcalf woman hung like a mill stone around his neck, still.
I'll love her bad memories away, Ben. Just wait, she promised silently.
"Okay," Ben said with a smile.
After a few more, lingering kisses Ben walked Meg to her apartment door. They bid each other good-night reluctantly.
I'll see him first thing in the morning at the consulate, Meg reminded herself as she locked her door.