Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain
by Tanya Reed
Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through this, and especially to those who have reviewed. We're on the home stretch now, only one more chapter after this one. I hope when you've finished you will feel the story was worth your time. Anyway, on to the present...
Disclaimer: I do not own Due South.
P.S. All opinions of Ray K. expressed by Meg are her own and not mine. I Like Ray K.
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"You know, this is very good," Frannie said, dropping a piece of eggroll into her mouth. "Where'd you order from?"
Meg gave her friend a small smile. "I never divulge top secret information."
Her smile was returned tenfold as Frannie speared some rice with her fork. "I wonder what he's doing now."
Meg gave her a blank look. "Who?"
This gained her an amused stare. "What d'ya mean who? Fraser. I bet he and Ray are out there right now, chasing bad guys..."
"And I'm stuck behind a desk."
"We're stuck behind a desk."
"You're not even a cop, Frannie...Do you want that last eggroll?"
"No, but I do all the work. If they want something it's, 'hey, Frannie', or 'hi, Frannie.' When they don't want something, it's like I'm not even there...Let's split it."
As Meg munched her half of the eggroll, her mind went back--for about the thousandth time--to what Frannie had said earlier. How had she gotten the idea of past lives from what Meg had seen? Yes, she had seen Fraser--a different Fraser--but that didn't necessarily mean...
She had been thinking about it all through their lunch. The picture was dimmer now, as if fading, but she seemed to recall his dress was somewhat rustic, old fashioned even--but that didn't prove anything.
Her train of thought was broken once more by Frannie's voice. "You know, there's something I've been dying to ask you for weeks. I don't want to pry, but..."
Meg sighed. This could be about anything. "What is it, Francesca?"
"Train."
"What?" Meg's eyes widened and her palms felt slightly damp.
"There it is again. Why is it that everytime the word train is mentioned, you almost jump out of your skin? I saw your reaction when Fraser said something about an incident on a train. What train, Meg? What incident? What happened?"
Meg felt herself blushing. "Nothing. Nothing happened. There was no incident."
"Don't pull that on me. I know what I saw."
Why did Frannie have to bring up the train? Events ran through Meg's head, events she'd been trying to forget for months. You just didn't forget things like Fraser's warm lips against your skin and the way it felt to be in his arms just by trying. His admissions that he couldn't forget either made it harder.
"Meg?...Meg?...Inspector Thatcher?"
"Sorry, Frannie. Believe me, there was no incident. None at all."
"I don't believe it." The dark woman poked her fork in Meg's direction. "But I will drop it...for now."
The Mountie almost sighed again with relief. She was just about to steer the conversation in a suitably safe direction when her phone rang. Raising her eyebrows at Francesca, she answered.
"Canadian Consulate, Inspector Margaret Thatcher speaking. May I help you?...Consulate du Canada..."
She was interrupted by a rough male voice. "I don't need the whole French spiel. I couldn't speak French if my life depended on it. Is Francesca Vecchio there?"
"Lieutenant Welsh, I presume? I could ask you a similar question. Have you seen Constable Fraser?"
"Give me my employee, Inspector, and I'll make sure you get yours."
"It's a deal. She's done eating anyway. Good afternoon, Lieutenant." Hanging up, she said, "It's time for you to be a good little girl and go home."
Frannie rolled her eyes. "He probably wants me to bring him coffee--bad coffee, I might add."
Trying not to smile, Meg asked, "What happened to your cappuccino machine?"
"He confiscated it, like it was a toy in math class. Can you believe that? Men!" With that, she got up, throwing her hands in the air. "He wouldn't know good coffee if it bit him in the butt."
Then, heading towards the door, she continued, "Don't forget Date with Destiny. You promised. If I see Frase, I'll tell him you're looking for him. Oh, and think on this past lives thing. You never know..."
"Bye, Francesca."
Frannie was already out the door, but she stuck her hand back in the crack and gave a wave good bye. Shaking her head, Meg put on her glasses and restarted what she had been doing before her visit with the Italian whirlwind.
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"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes, Fraser. Come in."
He did so, closing the door behind him. Then, as usual, he stood at attention, with his hat behind
his back. She studied him a moment, noticing his usually neat hair was slightly mussed. Who knew what dangerous stunt he had pulled with that awful detective?
Noticing that the silence had stretched too long, she spoke again. "There was something I wanted to speak with you about this morning, but it somehow slipped my mind."
"Yes, sir?"
"There is a Consular ball at the end of the month--the 29th. You are expected to be there in formal dress. I also will be attending, as well as Turnbull, though I don't know if that's wise. I'm still getting phone calls from the Australian ambassador."
She gazed into his face, searching for signs of any emotion or reaction. Of course, there were none. Then, a crawling feeling started at the base of her neck. The last time she had looked at him like this, her whole world had shifted. She waited, but this time nothing happened.
"Yes, sir. Are you all right, sir?"
"All right?" she asked sharply. "What do you mean all right?"
"It's just that you look a little pa...Never mind." He shifted his gaze from hers. For a moment, she was disappointed.
"And don't forget, you've got sentry duty this afternoon."
There. A twitch. She knew she saw it. That was Fraser's version of a wince. For some reason, she was perversely pleased.
"No, ma'am."
"You are dismissed...And whatever you and the detective did today, I disapprove."
"Understood, Meggie."
Meg froze, a shiver going through her. There was something about the way that sounded...
Angrily, she asked, "What did you just call me?"
"Sir?" Puzzlement came to his face as he drew a thumb across his eyebrow.
"Just now," she demanded, "What did you call me?"
"Sir, sir?"
His innocent expression enflamed her further. "You called me Meggie, not sir, Fraser."
"Meggie, sir? Are you sure?"
She bit her lip momentarily. Was she sure? Then, she grit her teeth. "Of course I'm sure."
"Well," He still sounded puzzled. "I have no idea why I'd call you Meggie, sir. Inspector, sir, or ma'am, certainly. I can see Margaret, as it's your first name, or maybe even Meg because I've heard people call you that, but Meggie...I can't think of any reason..."
"That's enough, Fraser." Her voice could have cut glass.
"Understood." Then after a pause, he said quietly, "Maybe you just look like a Meggie."
"Fraser."
"Sorry...Could I have heard someone call you that, sir?"
Meg shook her head sharply. "No one's called me that since I was five years old. Now, once more, you are dismissed."
"Understood."
As she watched Fraser go, it seemed a million conflicting emotions were going through her. Some, she did not understand, and others--like loss--were all too clear to her. She had been devastated when her grandmother died. Her memories of the time before she started school were of her mother and father as discipline and her granny as love. Granny had been the most important thing in her world and, even now, when all she could remember were warm hugs, smiling gray eyes, and the smell of chocolate chip cookies, the memory of her death was still a sharp presence in Meg's heart. The question was, how had Fraser come to call her the pet name only her grandmother had used? His puzzlement and innocence had only served to disorient and fluster Meg, two feeling she hated owning--especially in front of Fraser.
Confusion as to her feelings about him--as opposed to anyone else in the universe--calling her by that name almost overwhelmed her. Had she felt a secret joy in it? Or was that unnamable feeling fear? Without her consent, her thoughts wandered to Date with Destiny. Francesca's words filled her mind. "Everytime she turns around--there he is!" There was something about the past day that was trying to fit together in her mind, and it infuriated Meg that she couldn't put it together.
With a sigh, she forcefully turned her mind back to the paperwork in front of her. The difficulty in turning it made her wonder if it would be fair to give Fraser another month of sentry duty just for calling her by a form of endearment.
As she thought of the word endearment, Meg felt herself flushing. What would her reaction have been if his voice had been soft and gentle instead of cool and impersonal when he said it? She had a sneaky suspicion that she would have fallen apart.
"Meg," she said sternly, "How could you allow a man to have that much power over you? You should be ashamed."
She wrenched her thoughts back to her papers and this time--with sheer determination--she was able to keep them there.
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Meg was bored. All of these Consular balls were the same--smile and pretend you were having a good time while you were listening to the dullest person on the face of the planet. Still, she had managed not to scream. In fact, all of the men and women she talked to seemed to find her fascinating. Then again, they could have been faking it as much as she was.
She was beginning to wonder if the red dress was a good idea. It seemed to allow everyone to be able to find her. Someone had told her once--or twice--that red suited her, so she wore it for his benefit. Now, she had to put up with being the most notable person in the room--everyone else seemed to have chosen subdued colors like blue, black, or green, and he wasn't even there. A feeling in her gut told her that Fraser was out there with that spiky haired moron and that he would not make it to the ball. This thought made Meg grit her teeth, and the man who was yapping at her in what sounded like gibberish stopped in mid-sentence and excused himself. Meg barely noticed.
Her eyes searched the room once more and she bit her lip, wondering if she should be worried. Sometimes Fraser's exploits were harmless, but other times...Unbidden, her mind went back to a time when Fraser and Vecchio--the real Vecchio, not that blond freak who called himself Vecchio--had come into a room strapped to both each other and a bomb. She remembered that she had been annoyed at first...and then the bomb had been revealed. Her heart had stopped. Fear for him had almost made her refuse when she was told to be the messenger, and only the urging in Fraser's eyes had made her go. She was so relieved that he lived through the ordeal that if they hadn't been in different buildings, she thought she might have hugged him breathless. Of course, since they were, she had to be satisfied with calling him 'moron'. Semaphore made it safe for her to use it as an endearment. How would he know that her usual insult had been signed with relief instead of venom?
Thinking of this made her smile slightly. She was still smiling when she noticed Fraser enter the room. Her eyes lingered on the perfection of his form. She was not the only one in red, and Fraser looked better in red serge than anyone else she knew. His appearance was neat and there were no signs of any injuries. Meg found herself relieved that he made it home unscathed once more.
Her eyes had been on him almost a minute before she realized he was looking at her as well. She felt herself blush as she accidentally met his eyes. He gave her a tentative smile, so sweet it almost broke her heart. Instead of slamming up her wall as she usually did when he smiled at her, she gave him a slight nod. She was glad she did as it made his eyes sparkle. Whether in amusement or happiness, she wasn't quite sure.
Meg turned her face from him, though her thoughts were still on him. Over the past month, it had become increasingly difficult to forget what had happened on the train. She was uncertain if the cause of this was her talk with Frannie or that...that...whatever it was. Some of her pleasure at seeing his whole hide left her then as she thought of the dreams. The vision of Fraser crying in the rain haunted her nights. At times, it was so intense that she woke sobbing.
"Excuse me, sir."
Meg's breath caught in her throat at the sound of his voice right next to her ear. It was low and soft and it caused a tingle to go down her spine.
"Yes, Fraser?" she whispered. She couldn't help it.
"Um...would you...I mean, if it would, uh..."
She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "What are you saying, Fraser?"
He cleared his throat. "Would you like to dance, sir?"
"Dance? With you?" He was regarding her levelly, no hint of his thoughts on his face.
Sometimes when she looked at him, she wanted to crack that mask of indifference to find out what was underneath. She supposed that was what made her occasionally go to far with her discipline.
Knowing what thinking about it would make her say, she didn't give herself time to think. "Certainly, Constable."
That little smile came to his face again and she found herself swept into his arms. They were firm against her and he smelled wonderfully familiar.
"May I say, sir," he commented as he moved her expertly across the floor, "You look very lovely this evening. Red suits you."
"Why, thank you, Fraser."
Should she tell him that red suited him as well? Then she remembered the few times she had seen him in the less formal uniform. It looked even better on him than red serge. Yes, brown suited him as well. In fact, it seemed that even an old paper sack would suit him. Meg let these thoughts play through her head but she remained silent.
As they danced around the room, Meg gave in to the bliss that was reaching for her. Fraser was an excellent dancer and being in his arms was almost hypnotic. She found herself relaxing and, dropping her wall, let herself be completely Meg.She didn't realize how dangerous that was until she noticed she was gazing boldly into Fraser's face. He noticed at the same time she did, and he blushed as his eyes met hers. Meg felt around inside herself for the wall, suddenly desperate to slam it back up again, but she couldn't find it. As emotions seemed to swirl inside her, she hoped they didn't show on her face.
"All you all right, sir?"
There was that question again. Something must have shown on her face. Pure fear made her pull from him, saying fiercely, "Stop asking me that."
Then she fled.
As she quickly left the room, her cheeks burned in shame. How many people had seen her undignified exit? She made her way to her office, trying to sort through the feelings Fraser's touch had brought out in her. She still couldn't turn off the emotions. What was wrong with her?
Throwing her purse in the chair Frannie occupied everytime she dropped in, Meg went to her desk and leaned against it. Hanging her head, she took several deep breaths.
You will not be afraid of Fraser...You will not be afraid of Fraser...
"Sir?" A soft voice and a timid knock sounded behind her.
"Dammit, Fraser, can't you just leave me alone?"
She whirled to see him standing there, pushing a hurt look from his face. It rippled there for a moment before his expression became the same one he always wore. Meg was angry at both him and herself. How could he look at her like that? Didn't he know what it did to her?
"I'm sorry, sir...I thought...You...um..." He cleared his throat. "I need to speak with you." She looked at him incredulously. "If I have done anything to offend you, I apologize."
Softly, Meg answered, "You have not offended me, Fraser."
The anger drained from her as quickly as it had come. She regretted yelling at him, and she regretted running from him in the ball room. Somehow she couldn't make herself regret the dance. Slowly, she ran a hand over her forehead. "I should be the one who is apologizing."
"Sir?"
Meg heard a hint of surprise there and almost smiled. She was going to tell him something suitable and was more shocked than he was when the truth slipped out. "I was not prepared to dance with you."
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, ma'am."
"It doesn't matter. It's unimportant in the scheme of things."
He came forward then, stating, "Not to me."
She searched his face, simply telling him the truth as she had longed to for months. "I am afraid."
Warning bells went off in her mind then. She had learned several hard facts in her life. Never show weakness. Pretend you don't notice the difference in the respect shown to you because you're a woman. Shoot first, whether with words or weapons, and you won't be the one who's hurt. Never, ever, admit that you're afraid. But she just had. Part of her was screaming, calling her a moron; the other part of her was filled with relief. She didn't have to hold this from Fraser any longer.
"Afraid of what?" he asked gently, as if he were talking to a startled deer.
"You...well, not you exactly..."
"Are you afraid that my touch will overwhelm you?...Are you afraid of losing control like you never have before?...Are you afraid that what little the others have left of your heart will shatter?...Are you afraid that you will risk it all and lose?"
She listened to the words coming out of Fraser's mouth and it seemed like it was her heart that was saying them.
"How did...how did you know?"
He whispered, looking into her eyes. "Because I...I am afraid too."
Was he saying...? Did he mean...? She wanted to ask him. She thought she'd die if she didn't know, so Meg opened her mouth to speak. Nothing would come out. She tried again, but still with no result.
Then his arms were around her, warm and safe. She settled against him, breathing him in. He smelled like nothing else she had ever known and felt better than life itself.
"It's all right, Meggie. We'll fight the fear together."