"The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single,
but that I am lonely and likely to stay lonely."
~Charlotte Brontë
Another night gone bust. Another date had left Meg feeling hollow. In her best first date dress, she sat on the next to bottom step of the main staircase in the Canadian Consulate, her shoes off and her make-up smudged. Next to her sat an empty wine glass and a bottle of the consulate's finest. She'd buy them another come pay day. Right now she wanted to get soused and forget.
This is supposed to be a good week; my birthday week! Bah! Hum-bug! She thought as she kicked off her heels. They pinched anyway.
Meg grabbed the wine glass only to find it empty. She then picked up the bottle and instead of pouring herself another glass, took a swig straight from the dark green container. The liquid had quit having a taste over an hour ago, after her second glass.
Allergies! Who in this round world is allergic to water! I suppose it's possible but what are the chances I'd go on a date with a guy allergic to water of all things?
Meg snorted at the thought of her date going through his list of allergies with the waiter. The young man had shot her a pitying glance.
Needless to say, the date had ended early.
He seemed like a sweet guy when he asked me out last week. Maybe I settled too soon. Meg sighed. She'd dated most of the eligible men in her social circle there in Chicago. She'd gone on a few coffee dates her girl friends had set her up on. There had been a few blind dinner dates as well. None of the men had worked out. None of them had held her attention. Boring, the whole lot of them had been excruciatingly boring.
When's the last time a man made my heart race? Thinking back didn't require too much brain power. Constable Benton Fraser.
The very sight of him made Meg's pulse speed up. Memories of their encounters exacerbated the situation. Their most recent encounter, the adoption fiasco sprang to mind. Constable Fraser had been so sweet, bringing her flowers, stammering over his words. Meg had hated telling him that she'd meant adoption. He had been elusive ever since, well more elusive than usual.
I think that put an end to whatever might have been between us.
Meg leaned back on the step behind her, the bottle loosely grasped in her right hand. She heard the back door to the consulate open a few minutes later. Heavy foot falls coming toward the foyer where she sat didn't prompt her to move in the least. Let him see her in situ.
"Hello?"
"Hi," Meg called back as Constable Fraser came into view. He held his Stetson between his hands. Taking it off hadn't even ruffled his hair or given him 'hat hair'. Meg rested her chin on her left hand propped up on her knee.
"Inspector Thatcher, I'm surprised to see you here at this hour. Is anything amiss?" He began looking around the foyer for clues. A moment later he turned his gaze to her, taking in her bare feet, dress, smudged eye make-up and tousled hair. He couldn't help but notice her drooping eyes and relaxed posture, not to mention the wine glass and bottle.
"Nope. Everything's fine. I just didn't feel like going home." She shrugged as she looked up at him openly, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"Have you ever heard of anyone being allergic to water, Constable Fraser?" She set the wine bottle down and leaned both elbows on her knees.
"One of the medical books in my grandmother's library mentioned it. Aquagenic urticaria is the term, if I remember correctly. It affects one in…"
Meg waved him down before he could launch into a spiel about the rare condition. "I had the misfortune of going on a first date tonight with a guy with a list of allergies longer than my arm. Aqua whatever being one of them. There are like two and a half million people in this city, half of them men, however many of those single men and I get asked out by a mutant. I would have been better off going out to dinner with Turnbull or Ray. At least Turnbull isn't a mutant."
Ben refrained from commenting on the possibility of Turbull being a mutant. Turnbull was a once in a lifetime experience, but he wasn't allergic to water.
"Why haven't you ever asked me out, Fraser? You're single. You're handsome. Intelligent. You don't make a hell of a lot of money but I'm willing to overlook that." Meg frowned as she looked up at him.
"Inspector, I did ask you to have coffee with me last year after the NAFTA event, remember?" He began digging at his eyebrow, avoiding her gaze. They had sat at the coffee shop in total silence, sipping stale brews and stealing glances at each other awkwardly.
"That is right. After that, I can see why you haven't. Since there wasn't anything life-threatening going on, it wasn't any fun. Gah! I hate being in a rut." Meg shook her head. Grumpy with the situation, she grabbed the wine bottle and prepared to take another pull.
"Inspector, I think you've had enough wine for one night. Let me call a cab and escort you home." She glared at him as he took the wine bottle and glass out of her reach.
"Go on, play the good little constable. Put the boss lady to bed like she's your old auntie. A glass of warm milk and another blanket. Damn it, tomorrow is my birthday and I want to celebrate." Meg sat back against the step her arms crossed over her chest and a sour pouting expression.
Ben set the wine bottle and glass down on the foyer table. He hadn't known it was the Inspector's birthday. She hadn't said anything to anyone about it. But then, why would she? The Inspector wasn't particularly close to any of the consulate staff.
Honestly, neither am I, Ben thought as he mulled over her words. He doubted even Ray knew his birth date.
"Perhaps celebrating would be more enjoyable after you've had some rest." Ben picked up the phone at Turnbull's desk to call her a cab.
"I drove here from the restaurant, my car's in the parking lot. You can drive me home. I'll need my car in the morning anyway." Meg grabbed onto the banister and hauled herself up, which wasn't such a good idea. The world began to spin and her stomach roiled.
"Oh dear!" Meg lurched across the foyer and toward the trash can under Turnbull's desk. Constable Fraser was at her side a moment later with tissues and a paper cup of water from the water cooler.
"Thanks," she mumbled, wiping her mouth before taking the paper cup.
"Stupid allergy to water. That's what started this whole thing." Meg dropped her cup and tissues into the trash before Constable Fraser whisked the trash bag away. She sat on the hardwood floor, enjoying the cooler air closer to the ground.
"I'll drive you home whenever you're ready, Inspector," Fraser offered. He set her purse down beside her, a hint to find her keys for him so he wouldn't have to go through her bag.
"Too bad you can't drive me home all the way to Toronto." Sluggishly, Meg drew out the car keys and held them up for Constable Fraser to take.
Ben doubted even a ride to Toronto would fix what bothered the Inspector enough to get this inebriated. He looked down into her bottomless brown eyes and saw such sadness. Without her artfully done make-up and neatly coiffed hair she looked young and vulnerable, her skin pale and her shoulders slumped in defeat.
"If only it were that simple," he said softly as he took the keys. With the other hand he helped her to her feet. He held her hand until she could stand steadily on her own and then retrieved her heels. The streets of Chicago were no place for bare feet, even in the clean, uptown neighborhood around the consulate. Ben eased Meg into the passenger seat of her car, careful not to jostle her. He'd thought to bring a trash can and paper towels, just in case.
Meg sat leaned against the headrest, breathing in the cool night air through the rolled down window. Neither of them broke the silence, lost in their own thoughts. When Ben did turn to speak he caught sight of tears glistening on her cheeks. City lights along the streets turned them into streams of silver glitter. Absently, she wiped the tears away before running her fingers through her short hair with a heavy sigh.
"Are you alright? Do I need to pull over?" Constable Fraser asked, slowing down and searching for a parking spot.
"I'm okay. Thanks. It's just been a long day." From her tone of voice, Ben determined that the Inspector was beginning to sober up.
A few minutes later they arrived at the parking structure outside the Inspector's apartment building. Constable Fraser found her a plum spot near the elevator. They sat still for a long moment, the Inspector still leaned back.
"Time to go inside, I suppose." Meg rolled up her window and grabbed her purse from between her feet. She was met a moment later by Constable Fraser opening her door. Shaking her head, Meg led the way to her apartment. She let Fraser unlock her door. When he stepped inside and closed the door softly, mindful of the late hour, it surprised Meg.
"What is it, Constable Fraser? I don't need a shadow." She flopped down on her navy blue couch and kicked off her shoes. Ben stood on the welcome mat, turning his Stetson around and around in his hands, his chin pulled down against his chest as he looked out at her.
"May I speak freely, Inspector?" he asked, forcing himself to stop fidgeting with his Stetson.
"Yes, and the sooner the better." Meg put her feet up on the small coffee table in front of her. She considered retrieving another bottle of wine from her refrigerator but reckoned that Fraser would probably take it away from her.
The sooner he leaves, the sooner I can go to bed. It's been a hell of a day, Meg thought as she stared at Fraser, willing him to get it over with.
"Inspector, are you feeling alright, emotionally I mean?" Ben asked, looking her squarely in the eye.
"I'm perfectly fine, Constable Fraser. Everyone has their melancholy moods. Tonight I'm just in one of mine." She shrugged it off. Meg wondered why he cared about it anyway, they'd had more tense moments than they'd had sweet ones. The old adage that 'It's lonely at the top' popped into her mind. She was a human being expected by others to be a machine. Superiors in Ottawa wanted the consulate to run smoothly, everything wrapped up in a neat little package they could look at briefly and comprehend. And it was up to Meg to make that happen.
Subordinates at the consulate expected her to set a shining example for them to follow. They expected her to provide for them, do the paperwork that made their professional lives possible. They expected payroll to go in on time, schedules made, decisions and consequences balanced fairly. To some she seemed capricious and to others she seemed an Athena, wise and practical. Meg didn't really have anyone to share her burdens with either professional or personal.
Ben gazed at her steadily, his brow raised in disbelief. Inspector Thatcher had always risen above the stress and pressures of her position, rarely sharing her emotions with anyone. She wasn't just melancholy, she was lonely and hurting.
The two of them lapsed into silence, making Meg nervous. Constable Fraser's silence was nothing new but never in her apartment after being her designated driver.
"Constable Fraser thank you for driving me home, now if you'll excuse me, it's very late." Me moved to the edge of her seat, hoping he would take the hint. Constable Fraser nodded to himself, again toying with his Stetson. Meg could order him to leave or Constable Fraser could voice his thoughts. Meg didn't know if she had the strength or the energy to hear him out.
"I'll see you at the consulate," she reiterated as she stood.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight," Fraser protested.
"I'm alone every night, what's so different about tonight?" Meg asked half-heartedly, too weary to put up her usual front.
"Tonight I'm here," Ben said, raising his chin to look her squarely in the eyes. His statement caught Meg off guard.
What is he really saying? Is he offering something or is it simply stating the obvious? She wondered silently. A thousand scenarios ran through her mind. Should she offer him coffee? Should she tell him she wasn't drunk anymore? Constable Fraser wasn't giving her much to work with; no body language signals.
"What about tomorrow? What about the next day; the next night?" She crossed her arms over her chest, her head raised proudly as she stood her ground across the room from him. Being alone, even lonely, was better than being in a bad relationship together. At least alone she knew where she stood and she could work from there. Alone was at least safe for her heart. Memories of Alain and the wonderful plans his leaving had dashed rose to the surface. The memory of dancing with Fraser one moment and finding him gone the next lingered fresh in her mind.
They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Meg had challenged him and now waited for him to rise to it or back down. Ben's knee-jerk reaction was to back down, to retreat to safer ground.
That's right, retreat you coward, a hollow, mocking voice very much like Victoria's crowded his mind. Anger boiled within Ben. No one, not even an imaginary voice, called him a coward.
Just as Meg turned to leave, Ben stepped forward.
"Tonight I'm here. I'll be here in the morning if you'll let me," Ben offered. He met Meg's surprised gaze. "We don't have to be lonely." He extended his right hand, imploring her to accept not only his company but him as a human being.
Meg looked from his diamond blue eyes to his outstretched hand, fighting with herself about accepting or declining the offer. Her head and her heart warred with each other. She'd dreamed of breaking down the walls between herself and Constable Fraser - Ben and now he'd just tossed away the first brick.
Please accept. Please. Ben felt his hand begin to shake as he waited for her to respond. He'd stepped out on thin ice and now he stood listening to hear it crack beneath him.
"Alright." Meg closed the distance between them and laid her hand in his tentatively. Their eyes met and locked, stealing Ben's breath. He watched her, watched her mind working overtime, calculating, running scenarios. She hadn't accepted his offer lightly.
I didn't make the offer lightly, though, he thought as he stepped closer.
Gently, Ben pulled Meg against him, into a comforting embrace. He felt her lay her head against his shoulder and exhale deeply as she put her arms around his torso. Ben too exhaled, content with this kind of contact. After a moment they both relaxed into the embrace. Ben felt his anxiety at her nearness begin to melt away.
"We have to remember this. We have to remember how this feels," Meg said, leaning back only enough to look into Ben's eyes as she spoke.
"Agreed." He felt a smile creeping onto his face as he stood holding her, much like the one spreading across Meg's face. "Perhaps we could do this on a regular basis?"
"At least once every day and twice on Sundays," Meg agreed, giving him a quick squeeze.
"And twice on Sundays," Ben chuckled before planting a kiss on her forehead and squeezing back. "Happy birthday, Margaret."
"Thank you, but please, call me Meg." She wrinkled her nose at her Christian name.
"Happy birthday, Meg." Ben leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips.
This is the best present I could ever receive, Meg thought as she closed her eyes and laid her head against his shoulder again.
Eventually, the pair made themselves comfortable on Meg's couch and began to talk, really talk to one another. They cleared the air between them, chasing away the awkwardness.
2 a.m.
Ben lay on his back as he waited for Meg to join him in her bed. Only a few nights before he'd been laying in his cot thinking about how his life had seemed so empty. For the first time in years, the doubts and fears that assailed him every night weren't there. Instead, he heard Meg humming softly, strains of Al Jolson's "You Made Me Love You (I Didn't Want to Do It)" coming from her walk-in closet as she changed.
"We'll have to go dancing sometime soon." Ben leaned on one elbow as she opened the accordion door and stepped out wearing a t-shirt nightgown.
"I'd like that." She yawned as she slid beneath the covers beside him. Thankfully, it was way too early on Saturday morning so they wouldn't have to go to work any time soon. "We could even try that 'dancing to no music' that you mentioned once." She nestled into the crook of his neck and laid her left arm across his waist.
"I would love to try that with you." Ben quickly pressed a kiss to the top of her head and gave her a squeeze.
Hopefully many times to come, he thought silently.
"Tonight wasn't a bust after all. Thank you, Ben."
The end.
Author's Note; Sex is great but a relationship where you can talk and express affection in other ways as well is exceptional.