CHAPTER 2

Margaret Thatcher loved her family, as most people do. However, as a great many people do, she also dreaded them. As far as family went, her's wasn't very big, which helped immensely. One brother, so much older that she barely knew him, and two parents that were loving, in their own way, but pre-occupied. Family dinners and picnics on Sunday were not part of her experience. The entire concept of Family reunions was alien. They were four people who shared a last name, spent Christmas together and occasionally called each other, out of some odd obligation. All in all, Meg didn't see her family as defining her in any way shape or form, despite the Fact that her strong self-identity came form having a family that was made of wholly self-focused people, not selfish people, per-say. Merely self-focused.

However, William, her elder brother by twelve years, had gone on a second honeymoon with his wife gallivanting across eastern Europe and left his five, count them five, adorable children with Grandma and Grandpa Thatcher. Why, Meg would never know. Billy always had this odd sense of humor and she thought the whole thing might be some sort of great practical joke on his part. But she couldn't figure out if the joke was on; their parents, or on the poor kids. Or perhaps her.

Meg loved her parents dearly, she really did. She admired and envied her fathers diplomatic skills, and her mother's irresistible charm, she knew that in both of those areas she paled compared to them, and every time she saw them she knew that more acutely. So it was perfectly understandable that she would be about as near panic as she could get, when her parents were scheduled to arrive at Grand Central Station at Six, with five overly energetic nieces and nephews, and the only person in the consulate who she could trust not to be a total idiot was at the 27th precinct when he was supposed to be helping her.

"Is Fraser here yet?" She snapped at Turnbull as she walked past his desk.

"No ma'am he is not. He should be here any minute though. He said he would leave immediately and it takes anywhere from twelve to sixteen minutes to get here depending on . . ."

"Tell me the minute he enters that door." Thatcher interrupted. Then she pivoted and sailed back into her office were the agenda for the next three days, the entirety of their visit was waiting for her on her desk.

Thankfully, she was in Chicago, a city that was teaming with interesting tourist attractions. There was of course the Sears tower, and the magnificent mile, those were scheduled for tomorrow. And then the art museum and a show, those were scheduled for the next day. The Toronto Blue Jay's were in town and four out of Billy's five children were boys, so she thought a base-ball game would be in order. Then . . . more shopping perhaps, a river tour, something else entirely. She didn't know. She had planed at least sixteen Chicago vacations for visiting Canadian dignitaries or triad representatives or what have you. She had done it so often that she had to occasionally wonder if she was a police officer or a travel agent. Part of that resentment had sheltered her from the worrying about how good a job she had done. If they didn't like their vacation they should have called a Travel agency not the Mounties. However she didn't have that luxury here. She knew her parents would never dare tell her she had done a poor job, but they would hint. That's the way her family worked.

Meg's intercom buzzed. "Constable Fraser is here Ma'am." Turnbull's voice said.

"Send him in."

Two seconds later Constable Benton Fraser poked his head into Inspector Thatcher's office. "You wanted to see me sir?"

"Yes, come in." She said, all business. "Now, as you know the former Chief of international affairs form Toronto is coming in today with his family and I'm going to personally escort them around the city."

"Excuse me sir." Fraser interrupted, "Isn't the former chief of international affairs from Toronto, your father?"

Meg glared at him. Her expression seemed to say 'I would be furious at you if I thought I could get away with it'. "Yes."

"Ah," was the only response he gave.

After waiting for something more, Thatcher continued. "Obviously this is very important to me, so to insure that my family has a good visit I'm going to," she cleared her through. "To need you're help."

"Help?"

"To drive, watch over the children, that sort of thing."

"What about the consulate?"

"Fraser, how often does anything come up that Ovitz and Copper can't handle?"

"Rarely," Fraser had to admit. They were both, more or less competent, and on a day to day basis the Canadian consulate was less than useful.

"If something does come up, naturally we'll both be on call."

"Naturally."

Meg didn't say anything more, she just looked at him, as if she were about to ask him something, and then thought better of it. Eventually Fraser prompted. "Will that be all sir?"

She took a deep breath. "No, because this is my family, I think that it would be inappropriate for me to say that I was working while escorting them around the city, so I'm taking the weekend off." Fraser nodded, encouraged by her honesty, but not sure where this was going. "As such," she continued, "I wouldn't be in a position to order you to help me in any way."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Any assistance you would give me, I would consider it a personal favor, constable." She looked him straight in the eyes. Her expression wasn't harsh, or authoritative, or anything close to an expression someone nick-named, Dragon Lady should have. It was soft and open, and Fraser couldn't say no. Then she smiled at him, and he found himself, ever so slightly smiling back.

***

"There isn't enough room in the car for all of us." The inspector explained as they drove downtown in the, just after rush hour, traffic. Fraser obeyed every traffic law and every speed limit, which made him a hazard in downtown Chicago. If he hadn't been driving the consulate's car with diplomatic plates he would have been pulled over and ticketed. "My parents and I will take a cab, you'll be driving the children."

On the floor of the passenger side, Dief whimpered. Meg looked up, somewhat annoyed by the interruption, but didn't say a word. She knew Dief was there, and she had actually let him come without protest. She had very little contact with her various nephews and niece and she didn't know, but felt that she could safely assume, that one of them would be interesting in petting a half wolf sled dog. Dief, on the other hand had no interest on being the plaything of children that would pull fur, and tails and ears and try to ride him and do all sorts of other things. But Fraser had been unusually insistent, so Dief had complied.

"Exactly how many children will there be?" Fraser asked, just a little nervous.

"Five." Meg said matter-of-factly. "Four boys and a girl. The eldest is Will, he should be about fourteen. Then Cimon, he's twelve or thirteen. Xerxes and Leo are twins, they're eight. And Elly is six, she's the girl."

"Large family." Fraser commented dryly.

"They are staying at the Hotel Inter-continental on Michigan Avenue, so after we pick them up we can drop them off there." She looked up, and caught his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "At that point, Constable, if you want to go home you can."

"I'm fully at you're disposal." Fraser said, Garret's predications always in the back of his mind.

"Thank you." She said, almost kindly. "Now, I imagine that the most my parents will want to do tonight is go out to dinner, so I have reservations at The Russian Tea Room for eight. Of course they might want to stay in, in which case, I'll need you to drive Elly and me home."

"Elly?"

"She has made it abundantly clear that she wants to spend the entire time with me." Meg sighed, and didn't say anything more. Fraser wondered if she was looking forward to, or dreading so much time with her young niece. Fraser assumed it was probably a mixture of both.

***

Grand central station was bustling, and neither of the Mounties knew it well at all. Which meant that it took almost as much time to find the right train as it did to drive from the Consulate to the station. When they finally got to the right place, Meg's family was standing there, waiting. Her mother and father were each sitting on a bench reading a news paper, ignoring the world around them. Next to her mother sat a little girl, presumably Elly, who humming softly to herself and swinging her short legs over the edge of the bench. Near a pile of luggage two older looking boys, Will and Cimon presumably, were playing some sort of card game. And then two younger boys, who could only be Xerxes and Leo despite the fact that they looked nothing alike, were playing a rambunctious game of tag and annoying all the other people waiting for their train.

Meg took a deep breath and walked into the fray. Fraser, more than a little intimidated, stayed were he was, he knew full well that soon the fray would come to him.

"Mother, Father." She called out, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the station.

"Auntie Meg!" The little girl practically screamed as she jumped off of the bench and ran towards the inspector. The girl hit her with such force that Fraser was afraid she would fall, but somehow Meg kept her feet and even managed to walk a few steps forward with the six year old clinging on her as if it was a matter of life and death.

"Hi Elly." Meg said, ruffling the girls strawberry blond curls. "How was you're trip?"

"Good." Elly said, her head buried in Meg's torso.

She looked up at her parents who had, by this time, put down their perspective news papers and stood to greet their daughter.

"Long," her mother said dryly. "And you're late."

"Yes," Meg said, "I apologies." She didn't offer any explanation, she didn't shift the blame or make excuses. Fraser noted that fact with interest.

"How are you Margaret?" Her father asked, leaning over Elly so he could kiss his daughter conservatively on the cheek.

"Well, and yourselves?"

"Why you're father agreed to watch the children I'll never know, I think he was drunk at the time."

"Oh, Elizabeth, you've complained about not seeing the kid's enough, and about not visiting our only daughter in her new home. How better to kill two birds with one stone."

"Not on a train, never again. You're going to refund our Train tickets and get some plane tickets."

"O'Hare is a nightmare, you remember when we where laid over there after our trip to Prague? Do you remember those people?"

"God yes," Elizabeth said, rubbing her temples, "Margaret Dear, I'm not criticizing you, but I can't see how you can stand to live here. There people . . . Now I've been all over the world and I've met all kinds of people. But Chicago seemed to take pride in the fact that this was their city, and not ours."

Meg nodded tersely, not saying anything. Fraser got the distinct impression that Chicago was not the only city she complained about. In fact he got the feeling that she complained about every city. Accordingly, Meg and her father ignored it.

"Auntie Meg, Auntie Meg!" Elly said, tugging on the inspectors arm. "I'm taking horse back ridding lessons."

"Really?" Meg said with an indulging smile.

"That way when I'm a Mountie, I'll already know how to ride a horse."

"You want to be a Mountie?" Meg sounded downright honored. Fraser watched the scene, and couldn't help but feel a little pride himself. Margaret Thatcher was the best officer he'd ever worked under, he was glad that he wasn't the only one to see how exceptional she was, even if the other person was a six year old.

"Yha, because than I can live in exciting places, and ride a horse, and if a boy tries to kiss me I'll punch him."

Meg shot a glance at Fraser. A glance that every observer thought nothing of, but a glance that Fraser understood perfectly.

"I think you would be a very good Mountie." Meg said, ruffling her niece's hair again. When she looked up her auntly smile was gone, she was all business. "Mother Father, let me introduce you to Constable Benton Fraser." She gestured towards him, but one hand was still atop Elly's head. "I've asked him to help out this weekend."

Both of Meg's parents turned on Fraser with smiles that were so big and so completely genuine that the Mountie was a little shocked.

"Hello," her father said, shaking his hand firmly. "I'm William Thatcher and this is my wife, Elizabeth."

"I'm very pleased to meet you both." Fraser offered his own smile back to them, it wasn't as big, but it was twice as charming.

"I suppose Margaret has told you all about us." Elizabeth said she was shaking his hand now, warmly.

"No, actually she hasn't." Fraser said, with a little too much honestly. Elizabeth's smile wavered for a moment, and over her shoulder, Fraser could see one of the Inspector's undo-what-you-did-or-you'll-be-on-guard-duty-for-a-month scowls. He quickly added. "You're daughter is continually professional, you should be very proud of her."

"Oh, we are, we are." Her father sighed. By this time Meg had made it over to the conversation, Elly was still hanging on to her aunt for dear life.

"Fraser," Her father muttered, "You wouldn't be the son of Bob Fraser would you."

"As a matter of fact I am." Fraser was surprised that He had made that connection, as far as he knew his father hadn't had a chance to meet any diplomats in his life. "Did you know my father?"

"No, no. I just keep atop the news, I'd see his name pop up in the Toronto Papers every now and again, and then that thing a few years ago with his death and all. It stuck in my mind."

Fraser nodded, smiling. Two years had gone by, in many ways he was closer to his father than ever before, he had moved to Chicago and too his great surprise found he had met the truest friend and the most wonderful woman he could imagine, and yet, Gerrard's betrayal still hurt like a fresh knife wound every time it was brought up. Of course no one knew that, and Fraser was not about to tell a sole, not Ray, not Meg, not his father.

Meg might have noticed Fraser's uneasiness about the turn in the conversation, or she might not have, but in any event, she changed the subject. "I have Reservations for you at The Russian tea room for tonight at eight. That will give you some time to be settled in the hotel room."

"Thank you Margaret," her mother said sweetly, "But I'm really much too tiered to go out tonight, I'm sure the Hotel's room service will be more than adequate,"

"Fine then," Meg said, Fraser could see that she was relived. "I'll just call . . ." She was interrupted by her cell phone ringing, right as she was reaching around Elly in her purse to get it. She looked apologetically to her parents and answered, "Hello," she frowned. "Calm down, now what is the emergency?" The onlookers interest was peaked, they all watched her like a hawk. "He's right here," she said, then she handed the phone to Fraser.

"Hello?" He asked, truly surprised that anyone would dare to call him on the inspector's line.

"Constable Fraser!" Turnbull's near panicked voice was a few decibels too loud, the Mountie was forced to remove the phone from his ears by a few centimeters. The inspector's family was watching him with interest. He suddenly felt very aware of his unfamiliarity with cell phones, he hoped he wasn't somehow misusing the machine and thereby appearing quite the fool. Had he reasoned it out, he would have realized that one cell phone is more or less like another and that you can't truly misuse them. But he was irrationally concerned about how the inspector's family perceived him. So he turned away from them for the rest of the conversation.

"There is a man hear who claims to be named Bear Collins," Turnbull rambled on. "He also claims to have been a childhood friend of yours, and he further claims to be from Yucktiuck Flats."

"Turnbull is there any reason to believe that these claims are a lie?"

"He is very convincing sir." Turnbull said, as if the fact that he was convincing was proof that he was pulling something over the Mountie's eyes.

Fraser took a deep breath. Justin "Bear" Collins was a name from his past, one of the few parts of his past that he tried to repress. When he and his grandparents had moved on, he had said goodbye to Bear, forever he thought. But apparently Bear had other plans. Fraser tried to tell himself that there was no reason to be concerned, that Mr. Collin's just happened to be in town for some sort of business (although what a tanner would be doing in Chicago was beyond him) or perhaps for a vacation, and decided to stop by and talk to an old face. Nearly twenty years should lead a person to forgive, if not forget. "Turnbull, what does Mr. Collins want?"

"It would seem," Trunbull said suspiciously, "That he merely wants to talk to you, Sir. I believe his exact words were 'go over old times.'" Turnbull pronounced every word very carefully, as if a hidden significance was in there somewhere, and they both knew what the significance was. While Fraser wasn't looking forward to the prospect, he knew that 'going over old times' would be little more than actually discussing the events which transpired in that short time they knew each other in Yucktiuck Flats.

"Did you ask him how long he would be in town."

"He said not long, 'just long enough to finish his business.'" again, Turnbull pronounced every word as if there was some hidden meaning.

Fraser sighed. He may not have wanted to talk to Bear, but he owed him a conversation. (Truth be told, he felt he owed Bear a lot more than that, but conversation was a place to start.) "I'll be assisting Inspector Thatcher for at least an hour more, could you ask him to meet me at the café Three block's west of the consulate around ten o'clock?"

"I don't trust him sir." Turnbull said, and added quietly, "His hands are too big."

Fraser wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he uneasily stuttered, "Thank you Turnbull."

"Be weary, sir." The line went dead.

To be continued . . .