Weakness
by Tanya Reed
Well, here we are folks, in the second to last chapter. Thanks for leaving your comments, good and bad--and thanks for making them mostly good. :)
Disclaimer: Due South belongs to Alliance Atlantis and not to me. I do not own Ray, Fraser, Meg, the Duck Boys, Elaine, Lt. Welsh, or any other canon character that should appear in this story.
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Ray had been watching Elaine warily for most of the morning. She seemed normal enough, except for her back being a little straighter and her face a little more serious. She spoke to others and did her job. The only indication that she was still angry was the fact that she refused to speak to him.
And that wasn't even what was bothering him. Ray had known Elaine for a long time. They were good friends despite their bickering, and he often thought of her as part of his family. The problem was that ever since he'd arrived at work, his mind was haunted with images. Elaine was Glen Burrell's friend; Ray had seen what Burrell was capable of doing to his friends. What if Burrell decided that Elaine might look prettier with a little more purple or blue? Elaine had no idea how much danger she was in.
As he sat doing paperwork, Ray's eyes kept going to the envelope on his desk. Memories allowed him to see through the orange paper, though he didn't want to.
He glanced up and saw Elaine working at her desk. Once more his eyes went back to the envelope, then again to Elaine. With a sigh, he rose to his feet.
She didn't even look up as he approached her, though he knew she must have seen him. Her fingers moved just a little faster on the computer keyboard.
"Elaine, I know you aren't talking to me right now," No reaction. "But I have something I want you to see."
She finally looked up, her face full of impatience. "Go away, Ray."
"No," he said firmly, slapping his palm on her desk. "Not until you look at these. I know you think Meg--uh...Inspector Thatcher-- is lying, but before you go somewhere you can't come back from, I want to show you the other side of the argument."
Elaine rolled her eyes but put down her pen. "Okay, what is it?"
Ray knew that only people working on the case should have access to them, but when it came to Elaine's safety, he wasn't taking any chances. Carefully, he placed the envelope in her hands, wondering if--like him--they'd make her want to throw up.
The dark skinned woman opened the envelope and slid out the pictures inside. Ray critically watched her face as it turned from disinterest to horror.
"Fraser took these yesterday. A doctor has confirmed that her beating occurred the night of her date with Glen. We have eye witnesses both saying they saw them leave together that night and saying they saw them reach her apartment."
Elaine's slim fingers softly ran over one of the photographs.
"You'd have to hit something pretty hard, Elaine, to leave marks like that."
He noticed that tears had come to the woman's eyes, and she was fighting to keep them back. Ray hoped his point had hit home because it was painful to think of her being alone with Burrell. Keeping Elaine safe felt like the most important thing in his life at the moment.
"I'll take my evidence now, but I want you to think about something. Who do you want to believe, the man who has everything to lose or the woman with the bruises?"
With that, he walked away, leaving her to wrestle with the images he had given her.
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Meg was quietly working at her desk when Henri entered without knocking. She schooled her features, determined to show no emotion in front of this man. She had recently realized that she let her time with him greatly influence her as both a police officer and a person, and she didn't like it. The fact that someone she neither liked nor respected could shape her was distasteful. Meg was determined to change that in the future. If she had a future.
"Ah, Meg, always working."
"Hello, Henri."
"Amanda and I have just returned from speaking to the man Fraser hospitalized."
Fear flashed through her for a split second as she wondered if Henri could have fallen for Glen's charm. She then rationally told herself that it didn't matter, since Henri hadn't been on her side in the first place anyway.
"And?"
"Wait until Fraser gets in here, as it involves him as well."
As he said this, Amanda came up behind him. "Fraser will be here in a minute."
Then, Meg noticed her shift away from Henri and come further into the room. With a slight shake of her head, Meg thought, He's getting brave if he's trying his tricks with someone from Internal Affairs. A little wicked streak in her hoped that Amanda would get him fired.
There was a knock on the door, which Henri answered with a, "Come in, Constable."
Slightly annoyed, Meg added, "Yes, please come in, Fraser."
He did enter, and Meg felt her whole body relax. Fraser moved across the room, nodding to both Henri and Amanda, and came to rest beside Meg's desk. Meg stood herself and came around to stand beside him.
"Well?"
"Mr. Burrell was ready to deal. We've come up with something that will work for everyone."
"And that is?" She leaned back nonchalantly to perch on her desk. Fraser's support made her feel bold.
"He has offered to drop all charges against Fraser if you will in turn drop all charges against him."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, Meg. It's the easy way out."
It was tempting. If she dropped her charges against Glen, everything would go back to the way it used to be. The things that seemed irrevocable would be revoked. Fraser would go back to his innocent Mountie life, Meg would go back to her empty, masked life, and Glen...Glen would be free to hurt again.
Meg threw a glance at Fraser, whose lips were set in a grim line. She thought she could see disgust in his beautiful eyes, but she wasn't sure if it was for Glen or Henri or some strange mixture of both. She arched an eyebrow in question, and he gave a firm shake of his head.
"Fraser doesn't seem to think it's a good idea, and he's got the most to lose."
Anger made the old man's face red as he asked, "What is the problem, Constable?"
"Well, it seems to me, sir," Fraser's voice was quiet, but Meg felt a chill in his words, "If one ignores a transgression of the law, the perpetrator tends to break it again. I speak not only of Burrell, but of myself as well."
"You don't think I should run from this?"
"No, Inspector."
"Do the two of you know what you're saying?" Cloutier demanded.
Meg nodded thoughtfully. "I think so."
He sighed. "Then I have no choice but to suspend you both."
Shock went over his companion's features. "Is that really necessary?"
"In the Consulate, they would be damaging our reputation. If we hide them from view, maybe Canadians and Americans alike will forget about this."
"I don't know..."
He smiled menacingly at her. "Trust me on this."
Amanda stared at him a moment, then nodded reluctantly.
"So," Henri asked, "Are you still sure you want to go through with this?"
"Yes, sir," Ben and Meg said as one.
"Then I'll be faxing Ottawa about sending replacements ASAP. Until further notice, I'll have your badges."
He held out a beefy hand. Meg grit her teeth. Not only had Glen managed to steal her dignity, but he had stolen her job as well. Her eyes were burning fire as she said, "If that's what you wish."
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His look had improved a lot, Elaine noted as she entered Glen's room. Her friend was sleeping, and he looked just like a little boy despite the bruises and cuts on his face. Fraser had worked him over good.
She went over to the bed and wiped brown hair from his forehead. At her touch, his eyelids fluttered open. When he saw her, he tried to smile through the cut on his lip.
"Hi, Elaine."
"You look much better," she told him.
"They're going to release me tomorrow."
She nodded. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck, but better."
She pulled a nearby chair closer so she could sit by the bed."Has Tommy been in to see you?"
"Yesterday. He says you never call him."
Elaine rolled her eyes. "Just because he hasn't got a life, he thinks I don't have one either."
Glen chuckled, then said, "Don't make me laugh. It hurts."
"Sorry."
She studied the man in front of her, her mind chewing on the things she'd heard...and seen. The monster they had been describing couldn't seem farther far away from this injured, soft spoken man.
He must have felt some change in her mood because he asked, "Is something wrong?"
Something inside her made her blurt without thinking, "Did you do it?"
"Do what?" Genuine puzzlement went over his features.
"Inspector Thatcher."
She saw understanding and a trace of anger go over his face. "You know me better than that, Elaine. Do you think I could actually do a thing like that?"
As she continued to look at him, a shiver went through her body.
"Oh my God."
"What?"
Elaine didn't know what it was that told her the truth, but it was something other than his charming voice and innocent smile. He was right, she did know him. She knew him so well, in fact, that she could often tell whether he was lying or sincere. All of her instincts told her that this time he was lying.
"How could you do that?" she whispered, her eyes wide.
"Now, come on, Elaine, not you too." Glen's voice turned sad. " You can't believe her over me. You're one of my last supporters."
Elaine could almost hear a ripping sound as all of her illusions were torn from her and thrown on the ground. She felt hurt and confused, as if everything shifted. Her throat had to work hard to swallow the lump in it.
She got to her feet slowly, he insides clenching. "I've got to go."
"Don't leave me, please."
"I'll be back."
As Elaine hurriedly left the room, she knew she'd always love Glen--for the little boy who worked so hard to get her brother to let her tag along--but she didn't think she'd ever be able to like him again.
"What happened to you?" she softly asked. Her only answer was the unchanging whiteness of the hospital corridors.
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Meg packed the few personal things she had in a box. She could still hardly believe that Henri had suspended her when all she'd done was tell the truth. The word unfair even drifted through her mind occasionally, though she knew that few things in life were actually fair.
At least it was Buck they were sending to replace her. She adored the Sergeant and had felt a connection strong enough to reveal private thoughts to him the first time they met. Something in his kindly twinkling blue eyes made her think of her grandfather. The thought made her smile and some of her anger went away. She was still smiling when Fraser knocked on her door a couple of seconds later.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Just wondering if you're ready to go yet, ma'am."
"Not quite. Come on in and wait."
He came in slowly, a box about three quarters full in his arms.
"Have a seat." She waved towards the rarely sat in second chair.
He looked scandalized. "Ma'am?"
"Fraser..." Her comment was cut off by the phone ringing. Meg pointed to the chair, using her Inspector look, then picked it up. "Good afternoon. Canadian Consulate, Insp...um..Meg Thatcher speaking."
Before she could switch to French, a woman's voice said, "This is Inspector Thatcher?"
Well, it was this morning, she thought, saying, "Yes, may I help you?"
"My name is Janesta Armstrong. I saw your charges against Glen Burrell on the news."
Meg had been checking to make sure Fraser had followed her order to sit down, but the mention of Glen made her ears perk. She waited to see if the woman would continue.
"I...um...I'd like to help."
"Help how?"
She saw Fraser's gaze turn curious, and she gave him a sign to indicate she'd tell him in a minute.
"I've had a run-in with him myself." Ms Armstrong's voice was grim. "My mom discouraged me because he's a rich man with connections. She was afraid I'd get hurt, but now...Is there a place where we can meet?"
"I would love to talk to you, Ms. Armstorng...Would it be okay if an American police officer joined us? He's a friend."
She could feel the woman thinking before she answered, "I'm not sure..."
"Well, why don't you meet him before you make up your mind."
"Okay."
Meg gave her Fraser's address and they agreed to meet the next morning after Janesta had put her daughter on the school bus.
"What was that about, sir?" Fraser asked politely.
"That," she said, putting down the phone triumphantly, "was a woman who feels about Glen the same way I do."
"Another victim?"
"As far as I could tell. She didn't go into much detail. I think my case just got a little stronger."
"I agree, sir."
Meg felt a growl well up in her throat. The sound of it startled Fraser, and he almost dropped the box precariously balanced on his knees.
"Stop that!"
"Ma'am?"
"Fraser, we've just been suspended. I am not your senior officer anymore, so you can stop the 'sirs'. 'Ma'am' is okay, I guess, but considering the fact that we're living together, I'd prefer Meg."
"M...M...Meg?" She could tell it was hard for him to say. As he choked it out, he pulled on his collar.
"Yes, Meg. Do you have a problem with that?"
He shook his head. "No, ma'am." Then when Meg raised an eyebrow, a firm, "Meg."
The sound of her name from his lips made her smile. "And may I call you Ben?"
"Yes," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "You may call me Ben."
Meg felt a blush start to claim her face, so she turned to clear out the rest of her things. She could feel his gaze on her and she wondered what he was thinking.
After a moment, he asked, "Do you need help...Meg?"
"No, I'm almost done." She turned and smiled at him again, trying to show how pleased she was that he followed her instruction. He returned her smile, if somewhat shyly, and Meg felt a sudden urge to hug him. She was glad that he couldn't read her mind.
Placing the last item in her box, she announced, "I think that's everything."
Ben jumped to his feet immediately. "May I carry your box for you?"
"No, I think I can manage." She hefted the box and stuck it under her arm. "Oh, and I was wondering, is it all right if we stop by my apartment on the way home? I need to pick up some things. I didn't bring much last night."
"Certainly." He searched her face for a moment, then opened the door for her.
The two of them looked around the foyer for a minute, listening to the quiet. Then their eyes met and Meg gave Ben a little nod. Burdened with boxes, the two of them left, not once looking back.
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Elaine walked up the stairs, trying to ignore the shouts coming through the paper thin walls and the graffiti. She was only partially successful. She crinkled her nose, wondering how someone with as good a sense of smell as Fraser could live in such a dump.
She was glad the elevator was broken, though. All these stairs gave her time to think about what she was going to say. Conscience propelled her to go see the Inspector and offer some kind of apology. Elaine wasn't looking forward to facing those dark eyes that could at times be as cold as ice and at others like a burning brand.
It had been a surprise when the nice young Constable at the Consulate had told her that, as of that afternoon, Inspector Thatcher no longer worked there. She felt almost like a detective as she asked around until she discovered the most likely place to find the Inspector was at Fraser's apartment.
The knowledge of what Glen had done still had Elaine feeling numb. That he could be so different in reality to the picture she had of him in her mind was earth shattering. How could she have been so wrong? And how could she meet the eyes of the two people she had been thinking such horrible things about just a couple of hours before?
As she climbed higher, fear started to surround her heart. Gulping, Elaine tried to push it away, but it just came stronger. Her throat dried and tightened, and her stomach turned over. Maybe this was a mistake.
Finally, she reached Fraser's floor. The yells didn't seem as loud, and it smelled fresher. It was almost as if just having the Mountie there made everything practically new again.
She slowly moved to the door at the end of the hallway. Soft voices floated to her through it. Elaine listened to them for a moment, then tried to gather her courage.
"Come on, Elaine."
She rubbed her palms together. Not getting the effect she wanted, she wiped them on her pants. Her right hand came up and made a fist. It moved slightly forward and stopped, right before touching the door.
Elaine stood there staring at the hand that refused to make contact. She stared at it for a long time before turning around and walking back to the stairs.