At the Post …
Fraser had the morning shift the next day. Aurora had been the first one awake and was raring to go. Benton had let her outside to take care of business while he fixed himself some breakfast and coffee. He was still puzzling over the Inspector's behavior when he heard Maggie shuffle into the kitchen and sit down at the table across from him. She would be in the post later, for a mid-shift.
"Good morning, Benton, did you get back to sleep last night?" She poured herself a cup of coffee after he set down a mug for her. "Thank you." She wiped sleep out of her impossibly blue eyes.
"Yes, eventually." He nibbled on a mackerel patty and sipped his black coffee.
"Who was it calling? Did Turnbull forget the time difference?" Maggie speculated. It never ceased to amaze her at the half brained things the still junior Mountie did.
"No, it was Inspector Thatcher, calling to check on us." Fraser braced for the question he knew crossed his sister's mind.
"Checking on us?" Maggie sipped her coffee to hide a knowing smile. It didn't hide her dancing eyes.
"Yes, it seems she had a severe nightmare. The Inspector must have panicked." Fraser stood up and set his mug in the kitchen sink.
"Oh, yeah, because I call my subordinates every time I have a bad dream." Thought Maggie to herself. She shook her head at Benton's transparency.
"I'll be in at noon, seems I've been given the same shifts as Hansen. He's exuberant about it, wants to hear all about my tracking skills." Maggie widened her eyes, smiling a bit sarcastically. She was glad he was eager to learn but he was zealous about it.
"I'm certain he's a well intentioned young man." Benton assured her, grabbing his Stetson and twirling it before resting it on his head.
"Yes, he means well." Maggie remembered her early days with the RCMP and how her superior officers must have shook their heads at her.
"Take care, I'll see you at lunch time." Benton set out the front door, heading into Spencer Falls.
The Post …
Meg walked in with Wilder, who always arrived early. That was fine with the Inspector, she had a ton of paperwork to fill out after having a RCMP vehicle ambushed the day before. She was glad to see that Fraser hadn't arrived yet. That gave her time to establish herself in her office, out of sight. The other officers not yet off the night shift were still milling around the post, putting the finishing touches on reports and various duties. Meg greeted them with a smile, pretending she wasn't dreading the first time she laid eyes on Fraser. She felt like everyone would somehow know about the embarrassing, two am phone call when they saw them together.
The Inspector sat down behind her desk, coffee mug in one hand and her reading glasses in the other. She kicked her heels off and settled in for a hopefully routine day. With her subordinate officers in the other room, Meg didn't hear Fraser walk quietly down the hall and stand in the doorway of her office. The morning sun behind her caught the highlights of her hair as she pushed her wire frame glass up on her nose.
"Good morning, Inspector, I trust you're well." Meg almost spilled her coffee down the front of her blouse when she heard Fraser's voice ahead of her.
"Heavens to Betsy, Constable Fraser," She puffed out her cheeks as she mopped up a puddle of coffee soaking into her desk blotter with Kleenexes.
"I should have knocked, my apologies." Fraser offered her his handkerchief. Meg pursed her lips, looking up at him, refusing his offer.
"I'm jumpy, that's all." She threw the wad of Kleenexes into the trash beside her desk and sat back. When she looked up Fraser was studying her, an expression of keen interest on his features. He knew she wore glasses, but she'd never let him see her in them before. They had a charming effect on her features, adding a bit of elegance.
"Did I spill coffee on my jacket after all?" Meg slipped out of the light, pink jacket she wore over an ivory, cotton blouse and examined it.
"No, Ma'am, I was noticing something else." Benton stood up straight, running his thumb nail across his brow as he glanced away.
"Close the door, please, Fraser." Meg sighed, knowing she might as well get the whole nightmare conversation over with. Benton closed the old, oak door quietly then took his place standing before her desk.
"Have a seat, please, I don't want to crane my neck." She took a deep breath. The scent of Irish Spring soap and leather polish pervaded the room. Did he have to smell so good?
"I just wanted to speak to you about last night, I …" Before she could finish a knock at the door interrupted her. Meg looked at Fraser and shrugged. He stood and opened the door.
"There's a call for Inspector Thatcher on line two, someone from the air field." Constable Wilder timidly put his head in the door to speak.
"Thank you kindly, Constable Wilder." Meg waited until he had left before she picked up the phone. Fraser stood to leave the room but she motioned for him to remain.
"Inspector Thatcher speaking." She answered neutrally, then listened for a moment. "Thank you kindly, I'll send someone immediately." Meg hung up, the energy around her charged with excitement.
"We have another guest who's arrived. Do you mind driving to the airfield with Constable Wilder and picking him up?" Meg asked, her original conversation forgotten.
Fraser stood up, his Stetson in his hands. He puzzled over the excitement in the Inspector's aura.
"I'll collect Constable Wilder and set off." He shrugged, wishing they hadn't been interrupted.
"I would go with you, but considering the circumstances, it may not be a good idea." Meg sighed, thinking about the ruined Jeep sitting in the garage behind her.
"Ah, perhaps." Fraser agreed with the morbid statement.
The Air Field …
Ray Kowalski tried to take slow, deep breaths like Fraser had shown him long ago. The small plane had been battling a head wind the whole flight and the former detective wondered if the pilot may be intoxicated.
"Hey, buddy, is there a john around here somewhere?" He asked as he dragged his suitcase off the twin engine Cessna. He felt as green as grass.
"Yeah, in the hangar, first door to the left." The pilot answered as he hauled out the supplies in the back.
"Thanks." Ray waved as he rolled his one bag across the cement toward the hangar, taking deep breaths of the clean air. He'd been in Ottawa the last three days and didn't want to see another air craft as long as he lived.
The restroom in the hangar was covered in motor oil and grime. Ray thanked God that he didn't have to touch much to finish his business. He made his exit as soon as possible, wrinkling his nose as he left the door open. He knew he was a slouch about cleanliness but his bachelor pad had been immaculate compared to that bathroom. It made him miss Maggie and her orange scented air freshener stationed on the back of their commode.
"Hey, Mister, there's someone her to get you." The pilot's voice came from somewhere near the tail section of the small, white plane. Ray waved and picked up his pace. When he saw a red serge clad figure standing beside a Jeep, he waved, wishing it was Maggie instead of her brother.
"Ray, I wasn't expecting you, how are you?" Fraser shook his hand, slapping him heartily on the back. The still rail thin American reeled under the blow.
"Doin' fine, Fraser, you?" Ray grinned, flipping the collar of his jacket up to block the wind.
"Are you Constable Benton Fraser?" The pilot called. The Mountie turned and walked toward him.
"Yes, I'm Constable Fraser." Diefenbaker whined when he heard his human's voice. He hadn't liked the flight any better than Ray, at least he'd been sedated for the most part. Dief didn't know how Ray had survived the ride.
"Hello, old friend." Fraser signed the delivery paperwork and hauled the half wolf out onto the cement at the rear of the plane. Dief was out in two seconds and trotting happily around, sniffing Fraser. He smelled Aurora. The half wolf looked up at his human with his question.
"She's fine, Dief, Aurora's with Maggie." Benton scratched his oldest friend's neck before walking back to the Jeep.
"Two friends, one trip. Now I understand Inspector Thatcher's excitement." Fraser helped Ray load his suitcase into the rear of the vehicle, Diefenbaker jumping in, happily.
"The Dragon, uh, I mean, Thatcher, she's here?" Ray saw the frown spread over the other, younger Mountie's face.
"Yes, she's been in Spencer Falls for the last eight years." Fraser buckled his seat belt and tossed his hat on the back seat with Hansen's.
"Let me introduce Ray Kowalski, Constable Kowalski's husband and a good friend of mine from Chicago." Fraser hitched a thumb to the back seat.
"I'm Constable Hansen, pleased to meet you." Hansen waved, putting both hands back on the wheel to drive.
"Just call me Ray." The former detective waved back.
"So, Fraser, where are you and Maggie stayin'?" Ray wondered aloud.
"Inspector Thatcher made arrangements with a seasonal hunter for us to use his cabin while he's gone. It's quite snug." Ray rolled his eyes. He knew Fraser's definition of 'snug' did not include a television or gaming console.
"You'll be glad to know, the cabin does have an excellent lavatory." Fraser turned slightly to inform him. Ray shrugged, no X box, but it did have a flushing toilet and hot water. He could live with that.
Ray walked through the door to the post's main room and stopped short. Inspector Thatcher sat behind the first desk to the right, prescription eye glasses perched on her nose as she studied a flat computer screen. She stood up and pulled her glasses off.
"Mr. Kowalski, hello." She shook his hand. Ray noticed the scratches and bruises on Meg's face when he neared the desk. Diefenbaker came over to sniff the vaguely familiar woman. He let her scratch between his ears gently.
"Inspector Thatcher, ah, hello." Ray was a bit thrown by her frost-less tone of voice.
"Maggie's shift starts at noon, I imagine she'll be here early." Meg ushered Ray and Fraser into her office, her fingers still tangled in Dief's fur.
The wolf smelled the scent of worry and dread on her. He'd also caught a whiff of it on Fraser. It worried the half wolf. In the city, the only worry he'd smelled on Fraser had been because of the boy. The scent disappeared as soon as Fraser and the boy were back together. This as different.
"Yeah, she doesn't know I was planning on joining her for a few days." Ray smiled, picturing the expression on his bride's face when she saw him.
"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Kowalski?" Meg asked cordially. Ray didn't sense anything less than genuine welcome from her.
"Yea, thanks, I kinda had a rough ride over here. Them Cessna planes are barely bigger than a soup can with wings." Ray sat down in the chair opposite the desk Meg had gotten up from.
"Yes, Ben had trouble flying as well." Fraser wondered about his son, hoping that he was having a good time at Camp Cumberbatch.
"Where is my nephew?" Ray grinned. He liked the kid. They got along well, playing video games when they visited and sports. Ben had asked what Ray thought about a lot of things; girls especially. Talking the birds and the bees with his dad wasn't something that Ben looked forward to. He figured Ray would give it to him short, sweet and to the point as well as honest. Ray didn't blame the kid, he'd seen Fraser deliver babies without blinking an eye, but bluster when Frannie pinned him on something.
"The Inspector arranged for him to go to Camp Cumberbatch while I'm on temporary assignment." Fraser explained. "He'll most likely call me tonight." Meg and Ray watched Fraser's chest swell with pride. They were glad for him.
TAP, TAP, TAP Constable Wilder poked his head into the office. "Pardon the interruption, Sir, but the forensics truck from HQ is here for the Jeep." Meg straightened in her chair, wishing she didn't have to deal with this just now.
"Thank you kindly, Constable Wilder, I'll go talk to them." She pasted her mask on firmly, despite the scratches and cuts from her last car crash.
"Would you like to see the Jeep, Ray, I believe you'll find this interesting." Meg's words had a double meaning. The former detective shrugged and pushed himself out of the chair. The three walked out to the lot behind the post. Wilder had already made it out and was chatting with the officer sent to collect the Jeep.
"Hello, Inspector Thatcher, I'm Carl Compton." The slight built officer shook hands briefly. From the weakness of his grip, Meg guessed he was a pencil whipper for the most part.
"What happened here?" Ray asked, walking around the red, Jeep Liberty. All the windows were blown out and the front tires were gone. The rear tires were flat from running over the homemade spike strip. Meg shivered when she looked at the vehicle. She began to breath rapidly, her face turning pale. When Compton slammed his truck door loudly Meg hit the gravel, face first, her hands covering her head.
"No, don't, please, stop." She cried out, drawing herself into the fetal position on the gravel. Compton's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
"Inspector Thatcher, are you alright?" Fraser knelt down, concerned. Diefenbaker got down on his belly and nudged her with his wet nose. Meg was crying and begging an unknown attacker to stop shooting. Dief belly crawled closer to her and began wiggling against her, his soft whine increasing as he licked her hands. Ray and Fraser exchanged puzzled glances. All Compton could do was stare at the woman on the ground.
Still crying and breathing heavily, Meg began to calm down. Dief persisted in his licking until she seemed to be more herself again.
"Inspector, let me help you." Fraser hoisted her to her feet and they walked back to the post. Once inside, Fraser set her down in her chair at her desk. She was sobbing and talking but he couldn't make sense of it. The language wasn't English, French, German or any Inuit dialect he'd ever heard. He could only assume it was Middle Eastern in origin. Ray found the rest room and wet a wad of paper towels in cold water. He handed them to Fraser who was kneeling in front of her, talking to her in his soothing voice.
"Looks like she's got that, uh, Post Trauma Stress thingy. I've seen cops who've been shot go berserk the next time they have to go out on a call." Ray leaned on Meg's desk, his arms crossed, one thumb running up and down his jaw line as he studied the weeping woman.
"I believe you mean Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The Inspector and I were ambushed yesterday morning as we returned from taking Ben to Camp Cumberbatch." Fraser gave him the gist of the events as he bathed Meg's face using the cold paper towels. What he didn't say was that he didn't believe this episode was caused by their troubles the day before. Something else was behind it.
"I want to go home." Meg finally said in clear English. She looked at Fraser, but he wasn't certain that she actually saw him.
"Alright, do you think you can tell me how to get there?" Fraser's brow knit in concern. He'd seen other cases of PTSD but none this severe. He was shaken by the sight of his former boss so vulnerable. Meg Thatcher was no shrinking violet by nature, that much he knew as well as he knew his own name.
"I'm in Spencer Falls, aren't I?" She took a shuttering breath.
"Yes, Inspector, you are. Do you think you can direct me to your house now?" The Mountie asked again, a hand on either side of her face to direct her attention to him. Meg nodded, her eyes still a little vacant.
"I live in an apartment above the old general store." Fraser smiled, feeling relieved that she was coming back to herself.
"Ray, will you tell Constable Wilder that I'm escorting the Inspector home, she's under the weather?" Fraser stood up and began collecting Meg's jacket and her purse.
"Yea, sure, Fraser." Ray left the office. Seeing Meg crying like a little girl was unnerving, even for him. Ray was used to the Ice Queen, the cool, professional, kinda crabby woman he'd met almost fifteen years before. It did rather fit in with the information he'd been in Ottawa to find.
By the time Ray had told Wilder where Meg was going, Fraser had her gathered up, ready to walk the single block to her apartment.
"Need some company, buddy?" Ray offered, knowing that weeping women weren't the Mountie's forte.
"No, thank you, Ray, I believe she'll feel more comfortable without an audience. Will you tell Maggie where I am?" Fraser spoke low. Meg was still a little weepy as she laid one hand on Fraser's shoulder to steady herself.
"Okay, call me if ya need anything." Ray shrugged. The thought of getting to talk to Maggie was a much brighter thought than babysitting the Ice Queen any day.