Thy words have darted hope into my soul and comfort dawns upon me.
Southern
The Consulate …..
Midnight ….
Fraser walked in to the consulate, his feet dragging and clumps of mud leaving a trail down Constable Turnbull's freshly washed floor. The Mountie stopped a few feet into the entrance hall and began unlacing his knee high boots. Diefenbaker laid down beside him, the old wolf's paws were barking, so to speak. Ben's fingers were so sore he could barely pull at the strings. He'd spent three hours hanging on the side of a garbage truck headed for the land fill. Ray just had to have the evidence the driver picked up on the Allan murder case. Ten minutes before they arrived at the landfill the truck had sped up to pass a church van, pulling Fraser's best Stetson off his head. He'd said a few, choice, Inuit words his grandmother wouldn't have approved of. It had taken everything he had not to fall off the side of the truck when it turned right onto an exit. Bad things always happened when he lost a Stetson. The stupid things were expensive and hard to break in just right. Ah well, it was only the third or fourth time he'd lost on in his career.
Diefenbaker's stomach growled loudly as he laid on the hardwood floor looking up at Fraser pathetically. He hadn't eaten since two that afternoon and had been whining the whole way home.
"I'll get your dinner in a moment, you won't die from missing one meal. I haven't eaten since five o'clock this morning." Fraser shot back. Dief turned his muzzle away from his human. If he couldn't see him, he couldn't understand him.
"At least you rode inside the car with Ray." Fraser groused at him. The wolf snorted.
"I couldn't buy you anything, all my money was in my hat band, remember?" Ben reasoned. Dief just ignored him.
The Mountie finally pulled his high browns off and began the trek to his home/office. He hadn't been this weary since the time he's hidden beneath a cliff for three days with a skunk. Fraser hadn't been able to eat of sleep for the stench.
"There should be some kibble in your bowl, I'll be along in a minute to freshen the water." Ben told the old wolf who still sat near the front door. Dief got up and pranced haughtily toward the kitchen in the back of the consulate building.
"Hello, Son, how are you?" Robert Fraser, former Mountie, stood behind his son's desk in his dress reds.
"Hello, Dad, I'm fine, how are you?" Ben nodded. The cut off Stetson his father wore reminded him he'd lost his.
"Dead, son." Robert Fraser said matter-of-factly.
A smart remark crossed the younger Mountie's mind but he let it die. Ben unfastened his Sam Browne belt and lanyard. As he bent down to put them on his desk, the off duty Mountie felt his back catch. He was stuck halfway between standing and bending, barely able to breathe.
"Gunshot wound?" Robert Fraser asked, knowing the pain from experience.
All Ben could do was grunt in reply. He took a deep breath and tried to ease himself upright again. The catch just got worse.
"You should have done those yoga moves Mrs. Chin showed you. For eighty-six, she's as spry as child. I was that flexible once, when I was alive." The ghost Mountie's voice was wistful.
"You weren't shot in the back, Dad." Ben pointed out at a growl, easing over to one side before standing up.
"There's no need to be snippy, son, I was just trying to be helpful." The old Mountie said sullenly before disappearing into the closet.
Meg paced her office, waiting for the phone to ring. She'd been waiting on headquarters payroll division to call since four o'clock. If they didn't call soon Meg's payroll would be late arriving in Chicago. It would throw off all her bills that were auto paid out of her bank account. That just wouldn't do at all.
The lady Mountie had heard Fraser come into the consulate, talking to Diefenbaker. She would never understand why he talked to the deaf wolf. It didn't make sense. Still, it was a glimpse into the man's inner workings. Meg didn't get a behind the scenes view very often. When she did, it was just enough to whet her appetite.
A few minutes later she heard Fraser walking and Dief's nails clicking against the hardwood floor. She heard the conversation between him and his father but assumed it was still with the wolf. Meg wished he talked to her that freely.
"Oh bother, it'll just have to be late, I'm tired of waiting." Meg fumed as she gathered her purse and jacket to leave for the evening. The dark haired Inspector opened her door, seeing the clumps of mud on honey brown wood.
"This won't do either." She shook her head as she changed direction toward his office.
"Constable Fraser, are you," Meg paused, about to say 'decent'. "May I have a word?" She finished crisply.
"Yes, Inspector?" Fraser threw open the door, a bewildered expression on his face. The wind had blown his usually tidy hair about, making it curl in soft duck tails behind his ears. He was dressed down to his sock feet, jodhpurs and henley.
After the bewilderment wore off, Fraser stepped back to allow Meg inside. He seemed to be moving slowly and stiffly. There were muddy stripes up his feet where the mud had soaked through the seams of his boots and stained his socks.
"I saw the mud in the foyer. You'll have it cleaned up before business hours tomorrow morning." She didn't know if it were a statement or a question herself, seeing Fraser in those stupid suspenders that emphasized his broad, muscular chest was distracting.
"Yes, Inspector." He answered quickly, wiggling his toes as he stood at parade rest out of habit.
"Good." Meg answered quicker than she intended. She made herself meet his gaze. His light eyes were beginning to droop. She couldn't figure out if they were blue or crystalline green. The only time she'd been close enough to tell was two seconds before kissing him, and Meg always closed her eyes to kiss. They were beautiful, whatever color they were.
"Are you alright, Constable Fraser?" She asked, studying her subordinate officer.
"Yes, Sir, I'm fine." Fraser white lied, sorta. He'd seen far worse days but he'd had better too.
Meg frowned slightly. He stood there like a lost boy out of Peter Pan. Fraser didn't take care of himself, always too busy taking care of others. Last week he'd spent two hours every day after his shift helping one of the neighborhood kids catch up on his Algebra.
Impulsively, Meg stepped up and put her arms around him, laying her temple against his shoulder. She could hear his breathing and feel his heart beat. It had been so long since she'd embraced someone so closely. It felt strange and wonderful at the same time. Fraser was so solid and strong.
Ben stood there stiffly for a moment before pulling his arms from behind and laying them gently around her shoulders. He felt the stress begin to melt away. His stubbled cheek brushed her soft, dark hair. She was so warm and comforting. In a strange way hugging Inspector Thatcher felt like hugging his mother. Hugging her made everything better.
After a long moment, Meg pulled away and looked up at Fraser, her arms still around his torso. His light eyes met her dark ones. He wasn't trying to excuse his behavior and she wasn't drawing away. Instead, Fraser searched her face silently. Meg wondered what he saw.
"Thank you." He said softly, his hands resting lightly on her back.
"You're welcome, you looked like you needed a hug." Meg answered, a smile pulling the corner of her lips. He just looked like he needed someone to give him a boost, and what would do that better than a hug? She was plenty attracted to Fraser, but this was different. Meg had wanted to make him feel better. It was her turn to give Fraser something in return for all he did for others.
"I did." He admitted.
Meg saw a smile begin to quirk the corner of his lips as she slowly slid her arms away from his torso.
"Have a good night, Fraser, sleep well." Meg wished him as they parted.
"You as well." Fraser nodded, his hands hanging at his sides. He could still feel her head against his shoulder and the warmth she'd freely given him.
Before Meg could take two steps Fraser caught her elbow gently.
"Thank you." He slid his hand down to her smaller one.
With a shrug, Meg smiled. "You're welcome." She squeezed his hand gently. He let her go with a wistful smile.
Meg and Ben never spoke of what happened that evening. Her hug had been a soothing salve to his soul. Occasionally they would meet each other's gaze across the room and both of them would remember a moment neither of them could forget, a moment when both let their guard down. It had been a moment of strings-free comfort and companionship. All that, wrapped in a simple hug.
The End