Monday Morning ….

Meg woke up at her usual time, entirely too early to suit her. A shaft of light from beneath the drapes and the alarm clock were the only lights in the room. It took a moment for her to recognize her surroundings and the weight around her waist as Ben's arm. She lay there a few minutes, hating to disturb him. As gently as possible, she turned to face him.

"What do you want, Diefenbaker?" Ben mumbled when Meg kissed him, making her laugh. From the way he jerked, Meg knew his eyes had flown open and he was wide awake.

"Inspector Thatcher." He said without thinking.

"Not for a few more hours." She stroked his cheek, feeling beard stubble on his cheeks and chin. For a moment she wondered what Ben would look like with a beard.

"Good morning, Margaret." Ben relaxed back into bed after turning on the bedside table lamp.

"Good morning, Benton." She greeted him with a smile. As hateful as it was, she knew they needed to go back to work, back to Constable Fraser and Inspector Thatcher. Lying in bed with him sounded a lot more appealing.

"Would you like to shower first?" Ben asked, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Yes, thank you." Meg answered, snuggling closer to him. She wanted one more unguarded moment with him. "Did you sleep well?" She asked, drawing a heart on his shoulder with her fingertip.

"Yes, thank you." He rubbed her back absently. "What would you like for breakfast?"

Meg shrugged. "I'll get something on the way to the consulate." The subject hit them both like a slug to the jaw.

"Turnbull most likely has something baked for our arrival." Ben tapped his thumb against her tee shirt. He didn't know the path from being a friend and bed fellow back to Margaret's subordinate officer.

"All the more reason to grab a bran muffin on the way to work." Meg shifted in bed, ready to scramble out of the covers and into a good, hot shower.

"Margaret," Ben's voice stopped her, a torn expression in his clear blue eyes.

"Yes, Ben?" She settled back down in the bed. The cloud on Ben's face evaporated, replaced by a mask, one she knew too well.

"It's nothing." He withdrew his arm from her waist, effectively sinking back in on himself. "I'll see you at the consulate."

"Okay." Quickly, Meg pressed a good-bye kiss to his cheek. She grabbed her overnight bag and went into the bathroom.

Ben sank back against the cooling sheets, wondering what he'd done to deserve a life so full of complications and loss. Margaret was as gone from him as his parents or Ray Vecchio.

When Meg got out of the shower and stepped into the bedroom Ben and his things were nowhere to be seen. The only evidence she hadn't stayed alone was a note on the dresser and a cup of coffee beside a large bran muffin.

"Margaret, I've enjoyed my time with you this week. Best wishes, Ben." His clear, even handwriting flowed smoothly across the hotel stationary until his three letter name. It sat too far down the page and had been hastily written.

"Hmm, that's odd, Ben, ah, Constable Fraser, is usually more careful." Meg thought, frowning as she re-read the simple note. She didn't let it puzzle her for long. It would take her a month to catch up on the backlog of paperwork and phone calls she'd missed in the last seven days.

Ben walked back to the consulate with his rucksack on his back. He wore his red serge uniform, head held high beneath his Stetson. While his head may have been high, his heart was low. He's set the RCMP aside for the last week, he couldn't switch gears on a whim. Duty, honor, responsibility, they were all too important, too much part of who and what Ben considered himself. He would have to set his new found relationship with Margaret aside. It would hurt them both, but it would be beneficial in the long run. He tried to make that sound like the truth to his own ears.

"Fraser." Ray's voice broke into the Mountie's thoughts as he neared the consulate steps.

"Good morning, Ray." He made a b-line for the sleek, black GTO purring curbside. Leaning over to peer in the window, he immediately saw his unofficial partner's annoyance.

"Where the hell ya been, Fraser, I been lookin' for you all over the city. You can't just drop off the face of the planet like that." The blond detective shook his head, his lightning blue eyes animated.

"My apologies, Ray, something came up." It wasn't a lie, Ben tried to tell himself.

"Like what, did the 'Ice Queen' drag you off to the mother ship er somethin'?" Ray heard a knock on his driver's side window. Turning, he saw a very pissed Inspector Thatcher. Sheepishly, he rolled his window down.

"Hello, I was just sayin 'Hi' to Fraser." Ray waved, giving her a tight smile. He'd been caught.

"Don't you have a precinct of your own to report to, Detective?" Inspector Thatcher asked pointedly.

"Yep, sure do." Ray nodded before rolling his window up again.

"I'll swing by and pick you up for lunch, okay, Frase?" Ray turned to his friend, leaning across the seat.

"Alright, Ray, see you then." Fraser watched Ray roll the window up and then pull away from the curb. He slipped easily into morning traffic.

Inspector Thatcher watched the American's muscle car as well. Not that she'd ever admit to anyone, but the car was absolutely gorgeous. When she looked over where Ben should have been standing, he'd disappeared.

"Hmm, he's done it again." She muttered to herself. Coffee cup in hand, she walked into the consulate.

"Ah, Constable Fraser, you're back." Turnbull's excited voice filled the building, as did a thankful wolf's happy bark. Meg walked into her foyer to see the junior Mountie hugging Fraser, who stood as still as sentry duty.

"Oh, Sir, you're back as well." Turnbull's face matched his red serge. He stepped toward her, trying to decide if he should hug her as well. From her obsidian glance and pursed lips, he decided against it.

"Good morning, Constable Turnbull, bring my messages into my office, please." Inspector Thatcher ordered in her usual, business tone. She walked toward her office, expecting to see Fraser in the hall. Somehow, he'd managed to disappear again.

"Why would he be running from me?" Meg kept her questions to herself.

"Sir, here's your correspondence from the previous week. I've taken the liberty of sorting it for you." Turnbull handed the Inspector a stack of mail three inches thick. The majority of it was junk mail. Meg glanced from the stack of mail to Fraser's office door and back again. She had things to do that couldn't wait.

Fraser put his things away quickly. He had sentry duty promptly at eight-thirty. Standing in one, locked position for the next four hours would at least keep him from seeing Margaret, no, Inspector Thatcher. He'd called her 'Margaret' for the last time that morning.

Dief sat on his haunches watching his human. He'd been entirely too quiet, no scolding, no lectures, no questions. His human smelled like the alpha female too, as well as something he hadn't smelled on him since that Victoria bitch. His human had mated!

Dief squeezed himself between the desk and his humans' oversized feet. Why did they need such large feet for, even the females had them. Yes, it was most definitely there, the smell of mating, no, not quite. Dief took a long, hard whiff of his human. He hadn't mated, he'd only been prepared to. That explained a lot.

The old wolf laid his head on his human's knee for comfort. He looked down at him, annoyance in his eyes. His mouth moved so Dief moved. Quickly, his human walked out of the office and toward the front door. From the heavy way he stepped, it must be standing still time. Dief groaned, he hated standing still time as much as his human did. People sometimes gave him treats or petted him. Others made faces at his human. Dief didn't really like that. He didn't understand it completely, but he didn't like it either. Either way, his human wouldn't be lecturing him until time to eat. The thought of food perked the old wolf up. He trotted out after his human so that he could sniff in the garbage cans around back. The dumb human had thrown some leftovers away a few hours before.

Ben settled into position a few seconds before the clock hit eight-thirty. He took a deep breath to calm down and fixed his eyes across the street at a Gothic style church he favored. He wondered if the priests had the same conflicts as he did. They swore a vow of celibacy. They gave their whole being to God. Logically, Ben knew that the celibate life wasn't any easier than his, but it was comforting to think about for a while, at least until lunch when he'd no doubt have to explain his absence to Ray.