Weakness
by Tanya Reed
Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to review so far: ascii27, britduck21, and nedfan.
Disclaimer: I do not own Due South or any of the characters, and I am not making any money off of this story.
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Meg was just getting ready to leave for lunch when there was a knock on her office door.
Curiously, she said, "Come in."
Fraser entered, taking off his Stetson. The look he gave her was one of slight surprise, and Meg suddenly realized that for the first time she had not removed her glasses when he entered.
"Hello, Fraser."
"I was just headed out, ma'am, and I was wondering if there is anything you'd like before I go."
"No, thanks. I was just going to lunch."
A look she couldn't decipher went over his face. "May I join you? There is something I wish to
speak with you about."
"Don't you have plans with Ray this afternoon?"
"Yes, ma'am, but Ray is going to be a little late."
Meg nodded in acceptance. "All right, but wouldn't it be just as easy to speak with me here?"
"Well, sir, what I want to speak of is of a personal nature. I'd like to do it out of uniform. Figuratively, of course, since I am, technically, still wearing my uniform and you rarely wear yours. Though on the occasions you do wear it..." Fraser trailed off. "Where was I? Oh, yes. The Consulate may not be the best place to have a personal conversation."
"It's all right, Fraser," she said, putting her glasses on the desk and sitting back down. "Have a seat. You may 'take off your uniform,' as you call it." A brief picture of the literal meaning flashed through her mind but she quickly snuffed it.
He looked uncertain, but did as she instructed. Slowly, he turned his hat in his hands, not looking at her. Meg waited patiently for several minutes before giving a heavy sigh.
"You wanted to speak with me?"
He raised his eyes. They looked into hers, shy but determined, and his hands stilled. "Yes, ma'am, but not as Constable Fraser to Inspector Thatcher, but as..." He paused and swallowed before continuing, "Ben to Meg. Is that permissible, sir?"
She regarded him thoughtfully, deciding not to tell him that she had not been Inspector Thatcher in his presence for quite awhile. Instead, she gave a little nod.
"Go ahead...Ben."
He looked a little startled, almost as if he had forgotten what he was going to say. The Stetson fell from his fingers, and Meg heard the dull thud as it hit the floor. Fraser didn't seem to notice.
"Uh..." He cleared his throat and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. "I've been thinking."
She waited patiently once more and, when he didn't continue, asked in exasperation, "About what?"
"I don't think..." He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Meg was reminded suddenly of a five year old in church. "I don't think..." An intense look came over his face and he looked deeply into her eyes. She almost stopped breathing at his expression. His next words were firm. "I don't think you should go back to your apartment."
This was not what she had been expecting. "What?"
"You are unhappy there. It is no longer your home, but a place you don't want to go--like the dentist."
How did he know she hated going to the dentist? "You think I should move out."
He nodded. "Today."
"But that would be foolishness. Where would I live?"
"With me."
Meg's world tilted for a moment and she had to grip her desk to keep from falling on the floor. A gasp escaped her as she tried to fight her way back to reality. Did he just say...?
Her thoughts must have been plainly on her face because he hurried to assure her, "Just until you find a new apartment. I don't mean anything improper. There's plenty of room for you, Diefenbaker, and me."
"You..." The words struggled to get through her tight throat. "You want me to move in with you?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, despite his Meg/Ben request. "There is more than ample room, and I do not use the bed anyway."
"But Fraser, it would be scandalous!"
"It might be, sir, but do you not think that we have caused a stir already?"
She supposed he was right on that count. The shock was still coursing through her, and she knew she must look like a fish with her mouth hanging open this way. What was he thinking?
"Of course, I don't need an answer immediately," he continued, standing up and picking his hat off of the floor. "But I'm sure on reflection you'll discover that you don't want to sleep there tonight--and I do have an extra bed. Have a good lunch, sir."
Meg was unable to reply as he left the room. She sat in stunned silence for several moments, her mind running in about ten directions and tripping all over itself. What would such a move mean for their cases? For their careers? Was her career worth staying where she was and not feeling safe? How had Fraser known that her fear was so bad?
How was she supposed to eat now?
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He knew she would come.
Something in him knew the images that haunted her in her apartment would drive her away. That was why, when he heard a knock on his door at eleven in the evening, he was not surprised.
She had smiled at him shyly and asked if she could come in. One bag was in her hand; she brought nothing more. Fraser accepted her appearance as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and this seemed to relax her. Moments later, she had slipped down the hall--with Diefenbaker--to get ready for bed. Then, with almost no words, the three of them had settled in for the night.
Now, it was morning, and once again Fraser had awakened to the knowledge of being close to Meg. He lay in his bedroll, listening to her breathing and wondering what would become of them. Between her charges against Glen, and his charges against Fraser, their lives were bound to change.
As if she had read his mind, Meg's soft voice came to him. "They're coming today."
"I didn't know that you were awake, ma'am."
"I haven't been long." Then, after a pause, "I wonder what they'll say."
"I don't know," he said honestly, turning on his side to look at her.
She was lying with her hands tucked behind her head, contemplating the ceiling. The nightdress this time was her own, but not the kind he imagined she would wear. In his mind, he always saw her (not that he ever imagined her in night attire, he lied to himself) as wearing something elegant and made of silk. Never was it a gown made to look like a Leafs jersey. He liked it though. It made her seem more human and less like a remote, untouchable object.
"They may not be supportive."
"No."
She sighed deeply. "We may lose everything, Fraser."
"Yes."
She turned to look at him then, a spark in her brown eyes. It was good to see a spark there again.
"How can you be so accepting?"
"What choice do we have? We must trust in the law. If they find I used unnecessary aggressive force, then that is what I must face."
"And if they say that Glen didn't do to me what we both know he did?"
"That won't happen." He saw sadness and fear settle on her face--two emotions he was sure she would never have let him see just two days before. "Would you like pancakes for breakfast this morning, ma'am, or would you prefer something else?"
The look brightened. "Are you going to make me breakfast every morning?"
"If you would like me to."
She sat up, stretching. "Then maybe I'll never leave."
Fraser was relieved to see that she was now smiling. If a small thing like pancakes could make her smile that way, he'd like to make sure she had as much as she wanted for the rest of her life.
He got out of his bedroll and carefully rolled it. Meg's eyes watched him, and when he was done, she got up and made the bed.
"I'm not much of a cook, but can I help?" she asked when she was done.
Soon the two of them were happily working in the kitchen. The worry about what was to come faded somewhat with their morning preparations, and Meg seemed to be almost positive when they finally left the apartment.
The sight of Turnbull already standing sentry duty made Fraser frown. It was true that yesterday and today he had arrived later than was normal for him, but it was still earlier than the others usually got there. He could not question the Constable, of course, but he looked at the Inspector. She shrugged, a look of puzzlement on her face as well.
The two of them hurried inside and up the stairs. As they approached the Inspector's office, they could hear murmuring inside.
"They're early," she whispered.
Fraser nodded in response as she opened the door. Two people were engaged in conversation. They turned when they heard the door, and Fraser was dismayed to note that one of them was Henri Cloutier. The woman, he didn't know.
"Ah, Meg. How are you?"
At the sound of his voice, Inspector Thatcher's face turned a sickly shade of white. Fraser thought he might even have detected a trembling in her slight body. He wondered at that; it seemed a much stronger reaction than her minuscule shiftings from the man that Fraser had detected the last time he was there.
Meg raised her chin and stated, "I am well, Henri, and you?"
"Surprised as hell that I had to be sent down here to clean up your mess again." He gestured to his companion. "This is Amanda Tikkanen from Internal Affairs. She is here to go through the Consulate records with a fine toothed comb. While she is doing that, I'm going to be attempting to untangle this knot you've tied in the image of the RCMP."
Fraser cleared his throat. "Pardon me, sir, but I do not believe this is Inspector Thatcher's fault. If anyone is at fault here, it is me."
Cloutier set steely eyes on Fraser. "She is in charge of the Consulate here. Everything falls on her shoulders."
"I accept that responsibility, Henri," she said coolly.
Cloutier's eyes moved to her. "I've got to admit, Meg, that I am disappointed in you. How could you let things get this out of control? Perhaps I was mistaken about your leadership strength when recommended you for promotion."
"With all due respect, sir," Fraser put in before Meg could answer. "I must atone for my own actions in this. The Inspector bears no liability."
"Your loyalty," The word was said with an implied sneer, "is duly noted, Constable. However, what image is presented to the public when a member of the RCMP charges a well known, respected businessman with assault? It looks as if she cannot protect herself. Do you want us to appear weak? That's not even bringing you into the account. Between your actions and the possibility of your affair coming to light, you two may single handedly be responsible for the degradation in relations between our two nations."
Anger welled up in Fraser as he snuck a peek at Inspector Thatcher. Her jaw was clenched tightly but, other than that, she appeared calm. Too calm. Her eyes once again lacked expression, and she seemed to be staring at the wall. Determined not to let his anger get the better of him, and therefore reflecting badly on Meg, Fraser remained silent, not even denying the accusation of an affair.
"Amanda and I are going to see Mr. Burrell this afternoon to ask f he will be willing to cut a deal. For your sakes, I hope he will be agreeable. And Meg."
Her face turned to look at him.
"I expected so much more of you."