Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership, and I'm not making money of this, so please don't hit me with a lawsuit.
"And of course you will stay with us while you are here in Kivilut." Sara Campbell said as she placed another sandwich on Fraser's plate, and offered Meg more soup. "Since our children moved out, we have more space than we know what to do with. Our spare room never gets used. If you could be so kind as to add a bit of wood to the pile now and again that would be a big help, Benton." She leaned over to Fraser on whose plate she had just placed a second moose and cheese sandwich and whispered, "Jake isn't as young as he used to be. Chopping all that wood is starting to bother his back, but he won't hire one of the young boys to do it for him."
"I heard that, dear," Sargent Campbell said from the other side of the table.
"Of course you did," Sara replied with a smile.
Meg thought they had probably had that same two-line conversation several times a day for their entire married lives. It was sweet, and they were obviously happy, although she could never see herself in Sara's shoes, a happy wife taking care of her husband. The irony was not wasted on her that her cover was a woman likely on the path to become just that.
"Meg," Sara asked, "Can you give me a hand in the kitchen?"
Meg groaned to herself. She hated doing dishes. One of the reasons she became so focused on her career was so that she could pay someone else do things like dishes. I bet Sara will even have an extra apron, she thought unhappily to herself. "Of course, Sara. I'd be happy to help." Meg got up from her place, grabbed her plate and glass, and glared at Fraser for the simple reason that he didn't have to do dishes.
That afternoon, Jake Campbell went back to the RCMP outpost, leaving Meg and Fraser with Sara, who only worked mornings at the post office. Sara insisted on taking them around and introducing them to the town. From the trip, Meg gathered that they had not only found one of the biggest town gossips, but were living with her. Meg hated having to play her "pretty little Meg" role, but had to admit to herself, that she rather enjoyed being able to hang on Fraser's arm or have his arm around her. It worked unimaginably better at getting rid of Fraser's female fans than a Dragon Lady glare ever had. After they had been introduced at the general store, the town's one restaurant/bar, and three of Sara's friends' homes, Meg found she was adapting to the role of Fraser's girlfriend quite naturally.
Fraser, on the other hand, struggled each time they had to put on their "Ben and Meg" faces. He didn't like deception, although he agreed it was necessary, and he feared that his ineptitude at acting would give them away. He was always unsure how he fit in, whether to lead or follow. Meg was still his superior officer, but his role in their cover as travel guide indicated that he lead. He was grateful that Sara Campbell had taken her job as small town tour guide so seriously. He didn't react when the women that Sara introduced him to looking him over appreciatively. He was used to that. He did find it amusing though, that Meg seemed to notice. Each time a good looking woman started to give him the eye, Meg would move in closer to him, grab his hand, or do something else to mark her territory. He was pretty sure that she didn't even realize she was doing it. Of course, he had to admit, he did the same thing when Meg was the subject of male scrutiny and appreciation.
As the sun sank in the sky, Sara, Meg, and Fraser returned to the Campbell home to prepare dinner and put their things away. There wasn't much to put away. A spare set of clothes and long johns for each of them, several pairs of socks, and some of Meg's undergarmets that Fraser tried not to notice. He regretfully started to blush when she pulled them out and he got a quick glimpse of pink lace. He quickly turned back to the pack, but found it empty, so he busied himself tucking it under the bed.
Meg had just finished arranging her things when she heard Fraser walk quickly toward her. She turned toward him and was astonished when he wrapped his arms firmly around her, and pulled her to close to him, almost crushing her against his chest.
"What are you doing Constable?" Meg, startled, whispered quietly in Fraser's ear.
Fraser moved a lock of hair behind her ear and murmured, "Solidifying our cover, sir, and you probably shouldn't call me that with Sara right outside our door."
"How do you know she is there?" She put her arms around Fraser to show her trust in his assessment of the situation even before he explained his reasoning. She felt the muscles in his back and shoulders move under her hands as his hands moved to rest around her waist.
Meg felt more than heard his answer as his voice rumbled into her hair. "The sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen indicate someone wearing soft-soled shoes, ladies size 8, approximately 69 kg, walking on a wood floor at pace slower than would be expected from Sara's 160 cm height. She must be unsure whether to intrude on what she thinks we are doing. Better confirm her suspicions."
"I agree." Meg said rather breathlessly, as Fraser took one hand from her waist and moved to stroke her hair. He raised her chin up so he could look down into her eyes. He leaned down slowly to kiss her, but before they could complete the kiss, there was a knock on the door and it slowly opened.
Fraser and Meg jumped apart just as Sara turned around to avoid seeing them in such intimate contact. Sara at least had the manners to pretend to be surprised at what she walked in on. "I'm so sorry, Ben, Meg. I should have known…"
"It's ok, Sara." Fraser answered sheepishly. "We should have come down immediately after we finished unpacking. I tend to become a little… distracted where Meg is concerned." This whole using the truth as a cover was working quite well for him. He shrugged apologetically and reached for Meg's hand. "Is now a good time to get started on the wood pile?"
"Of course. There should be enough light left to get started." Sara said, glad to be given a way out of an embarrassing situation. Of course they didn't need to be checked on. She didn't know what she was thinking barging in on young lovers in a bedroom, even if they were supposed to be unpacking. She began to walk back down the hallway when she heard Meg's timid voice again.
"Is there somewhere I can take a bath or a shower? We have been camping for the last three days, and now that we are around other people, I feel the need to be cleaner than I can get with melted snow and a washrag." Especially if she was going to get that close to Fraser on a regular basis.
"Of course," Sara answered pleasantly, "How silly of me not to offer sooner. We only have a shower inside, no bath tub, and the hot water is limited. The shower is fine if you just want to get clean, but if you want to soak, I strongly recommend visiting the hot pools up on Bald Face Mountain. The local Inuits believe that there are spirits waiting to reveal themselves to bathers who can stand the heat of the pools." Sara got a glint in her eye and continued. "There is even a couple's pool. Maybe you two should go up there one evening. The northern lights are beautiful this time of year.
"Now, Benton, let's see about getting you started on that wood pile. Meg, help yourself to whatever soap and shampoo you find. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink." Sara indicated the bathroom behind the only closed door in the hallway and lead Fraser away to the other end of the house.
Meg got into the shower and let the hot water rinse over her. She hadn't realized how cold she was until she the hot water hit her. She quickly washed and rinsed her hair, and used the lavender scented soap she found by the sink to wash the trail dirt off her body. She knew she shouldn't linger in the shower, but she allowed herself a few extra moments to try to wash away the residual sensations of Fraser's hands on her. Of course, being naked in the shower didn't exactly help with that.
Meg reluctantly got out of the shower, and toweled off with an amazingly soft towel. She turned to get dressed and realized that she had forgotten to bring a clean set of clothes with her. With a sigh of dismay, she wrapped the tower back around her, peeked out the door, and when she was sure that nobody was coming, she ran back to her room and shut the door. She was about to drop the towel, when she heard her name spoken.
She turned around to find Fraser was sitting on the bed, looking intently down at the work boots he was lacing up. "I didn't think you would be finished so quickly," he said deliberately staring at his boots. "It's much more difficult to chop wood in boots made for slugging through snow. You see, the sole of a snow boot was designed primarily for insulation and support for walking, but does not give the same support that a work boot does for stability. The upper of a snow boot was also designed for insulation and ankle support while using snow shoes. Work boots don't need either of those, and can devote more design space to mobility and ease of motions other than simple walking. Sargent Campbell and I happen to wear the same size shoe. Sara said I could borrow a pair of his work boots." Fraser had finished lacing his boots, but was still looking down at them, obviously embarrassed at the sight of his superior officer in a towel.
Meg noticed the back of his neck turning red, and had to quickly smother a smile. She found this rather humorous, but decided to take pity on him. "I'll just grab some clothes and go the bathroom to change."
"No." Fraser said quickly. Meg stopped short.
"That would not be in line with our cover." He said still looking at his boots. "I'll just turn and face the corner while you dress." Fraser managed to get up and walk to the farthest corner without looking at her. He stood facing the wall with this nose almost touching the wallboards. He could smell the cedar planks and the latex paint. He tried to concentrate on those smells instead of the lavender that assailed his nose when Meg ran into the room. He tried not to remember how wonderful she looked with her hair wet and only finger combed. He tried not to remember the way her legs extended from beneath the too short, but not nearly short enough, towel. He tried to forget her bare arms and shoulders, well-muscled from regular workouts in the gym. He tried to forget, but he couldn't. Instead he just reminded himself that to take any actions with regards to his feelings for Meg would cause more harm than good in the long run.
It felt like an eternity before Meg told Fraser that she was decent. She was wearing trail clothes, lined jeans and a sweater, but he thought she looked beautiful. Much better than her usual business suits.
They paused in the middle of the room, each trying to think of something to say.
"I'd better go…" Fraser said indicating the general direction of the wood pile.
"Yes, I guess you should…" Meg still stood between him and the door.
Fraser stepped to the left to go around her just as she stepped to the right to let him pass, ending up nose to nose. They both stepped back to give the other the right of way. Their unchoreographed dance continued until they finally stepped out of each other's way. Fraser continued to the wood pile. Meg sat down on the bed to try to rein her runaway thoughts. Inventing a relationship between them as a cover seemed like a good idea at the time, but this was turning out more challenging than she had imagined.
Meg took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had done difficult things in the past, taken on tasks that challenged her both mentally and physically. She was certainly up to an emotional challenge of this magnitude. She had trained for this. Well, not for this, exactly, but for many other types of situations that required one to put logic and necessity over other, lesser things. There was no reason she could not act this part. She would just have to distance herself emotionally from Fraser whenever they were alone. She could do that. She was good at that.
When Meg was done giving herself her little pep talk, she walked into the living room to see if she could help Sara out with dinner or some other chore. She found her hostess in the kitchen chopping vegetables. Sara's kitchen was a warm, inviting place, with lots of windows positioned so that they looked out over the back yard, and what Meg suspected was a flower garden in the summer. The pale yellow walls and white cabinets brightened up the small room, keeping it from feeling cramped. A few framed photographs of flowers and vases filled with kitchen utensil made up the simple décor.
"Anything I can help you with, Sara?" Meg said as she prayed that Sara wouldn't take her up on her offer.
"Sure, Meg. Marge over at the general store got a case of tomatoes from down south cheap, so I'm making and freezing pasta sauce. Can you get started chopping these onions? Finely chopped, but not quite minced." Of course it had to be onions. Meg hated chopping onions almost as much as she hated washing dishes. It was mostly because onions made her cry, and even more than doing dishes, Meg hated crying. Crying showed weakness, and a woman who wishes to rise in the ranks of the RCMP can under no circumstance show weakness. Even when chopping onions.
Reluctantly, she took the chef's knife and chopping board Sara handed her and positioned herself next to the onions on the counter. She started chopping, and had to stop after only a few slices to get a break from the onion fumes. When she felt the need to tear up waning, she started chopping again, but the irritation in her eyes didn't stay away long.
Sara noticed her guest's troubles, and didn't say a word until Meg had slowly chopped the first two onions, stopping frequently to wipe her eyes. Sara didn't want to seem bossy, but she needed those onions done faster. "Meg, dear, if you run the onions halves under cold water just before chopping them finer, it cuts down on the release of fumes. No more onion tears."
Seriously? Meg thought. It's that simple? One more thing that she should have learned from her mother, but she couldn't ever remember them cooking together. Her mother had never been interested in teaching Meg any kind of domestic arts, and Meg hadn't been interested in learning. They both had preferred to teach Meg the things she needed to escape what she considered drudgery. Take the clothes to the cleaners and eat take-out when there wasn't time to go to a nice restaurant. She knew enough to get by when these services weren't available, but she had never taken the time to learn the little tips and tricks that make domestic tasks easier.
"So where are you from, Meg," Sara asked, hoping to engage Meg in conversation. She wanted to find out a little bit more about her two houseguests. And she was sure that Marge at the general store and Eleanor down the street would be aching for details. Meg was such a pretty little thing, and Ben wasn't bad to look at either. Not bad at all. In fact, if Meg hadn't been around and obviously staking her claim, she knew several young women that would have been happy to give him a warm place to stay.
"I'm from Toronto." Meg answered. When her eyes finally cleared, she started attacking the next onion slowly but steadily.
"Toronto, do you say? How did you end up here?" Meg knew she had to give enough detail to be believable, but not so much that Fraser would find himself caught up in keeping their cover story strait. The truth seemed the safest option.
"Ben and I work in the same building. He ran errands, and I helped write reports. We ran into each other from time to time. The first time I saw Ben I wanted to hate him because he seemed too perfect. He was always going out of the way to help somebody, but I always had to clean up the mess and explain to the higher-ups what was going on. Every time we crossed paths, it made more work for me. But after a while, I realized that even though he often does things that seem unexplainable to the rest of the world, they always make sense to him, and somehow everything turns out alright in the end. We started seeing each other outside of work, and eventually we became close. Very close." Meg paused to pretend to hide a little blush.
"Ben is always telling stories of the North and they intrigued me. I wanted to see these things for myself, and see if I could handle the environment that Ben loves the most. I mentioned it to Ben, and a week later, here we are. So far, I love it, too." Meg finished chopping the last onion just as she finished this little speech.
"What next Sara?" Meg was almost enjoying this. Seeing that pile of chopped onions grow gave Meg a strange sense of accomplishment that giving orders and writing reports never had. It didn't hurt that she could smell the delicious scent of the onions and garlic that Sara was sautéing on the stove. Dinner was going to taste really good tonight!
"Um, how about washing and tearing lettuce for the salad? Just enough for the four of us." Sara said. She enjoyed having someone to help in the kitchen. Things got done so much faster, and it was nice not to be alone in the afternoon..
Meg brought the lettuce over to the sink and started rinsing it off. The ice cold water started to hurt her hands, but she knew better than to waste hot water just for her personal comfort. When she had washed half the head of lettuce, she put the rest back in the refrigerator and began to tear the washed lettuce leaves into little pieces. Since she was not using a knife and didn't need to watch her hands all the time, she raised her head to peer out the window. She was greeted with a delicious sight: Fraser in his jeans and undershirt chopping wood.
The garden where he was chopping sat in a corner made where the house butted against the garage. Two large evergreen trees covered a third side, sheltering it well from the wind. He must have gotten warm from the effort because his jacket and flannel shirt lay forgotten by the side of the garage. Although the temperature during this, the warmest part of the day couldn't have been much above freezing, he looked as if he was starting to sweat from the effort.
Meg watched as he positioned a 30 cm log vertically and tapped the ax so it stuck into the end of the log. He lifted the ax with the log still attached and swung them in a arc to one side and behind him until they were high above his head, almost as high as his arms could reach. The he used the muscles in his whole body to slam the ax and log down onto the chopping block in front of him. Meg could see the muscles in his back and arms contract with the effort. She stood mesmerized as the log hit the ground and split neatly in two. Fraser bent to pick up the larger of the two pieces to split it again. Meg had to close her eyes and control her breathing as his jeans tightened across his rear end. Red serge was nothing compared to this.
"Nice view, isn't it?" Sara said with a wink and a sly smile. "I used to love watching my Jake do this very same thing when we were younger. Not so much fun watching now, since I know his back hurts him every time he swings he ax. You got yourself a good one, Meg. Knows how to work, and looks good doing it!"
Meg only wished that Fraser was "her Ben." She knew that once they completed this mission, this would have to stop. She would not join the ranks of RCMP officers who oogled subordinates across the office. She had been that junior officer often enough, and would never do that to anyone, especially someone she cared for and respected.
Meg stopped short at that thought. Did she really care for Fraser, other than as a junior officer that she was responsible for? She wanted to say no, but it is hard to lie to oneself. She couldn't say she only cared as a friend, because friends don't oogle friend's backsides, or have their hearts speed up when they are near. And friends certainly don't share kisses on top of trains, kisses so powerful that neither notices that they came within centimeters of hitting a wooden bridge.
No, Meg decided. There was something else there, but, for the life of her she didn't know what it was or how to deal with it. The only thing she could do was ignore it, and hope that it would go away.
No. She couldn't honestly do that either. She would have to figure out how to put some distance between herself and Fraser. For the good of this mission. For the good of her career.
Of course, she wasn't sure how she was going to manage that with Fraser always looking so delectable.
A/N: This is the last chapter I have completely written, so further chapters may take a little while coming. Reviews are great, either positive or critical. Positive gives me warm fuzzies, critical shows me how to improve.