Weakness

by Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: Due South doesn't belong to me.

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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 were 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 hands 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 it 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."