Four Days Later ….
"I'm quite capable of taking myself up to my apartment, there's no need to hover, Constable Fraser, Detective." Meg protested as the two men flanked her on either side, Fraser holding her belongings in a large, plastic bag. Even Diefenbaker had insisted on getting out into the crisp, Chicago morning to pick her up from the hospital.
"I'm certain you are, Inspector." Fraser agreed with her but didn't slow down for an instant as she struggled to walk ahead of him toward the door.
"You aren't relenting are you, Fraser?" Meg groused as she fumbled for her keys in her purse.
"No, Sir, I'm not, my apologies." The Mountie ducked his head for a moment. Meg rolled her eyes and let them into the building. The trio of humans and the white wolf crowded into the elevator and Meg hit the floor button.
"I assume since you're here you know what transpired." Meg turned to Ray who met Fraser's eyes, asking him for a translation.
"Yes, Sir, Ray knows about the miscarriage, but he's assured me of his absolute discretion." Fraser reassured the boss lady.
"Yeah, mums the word, promise." Ray pretended to zip his lips but there was a devilish twinkle to his crystalline blue eyes. Meg simply glared at him.
Once in the hallway outside the Inspector's apartment, she pulled her keys from her purse and let them inside. Ray balked, as did Diefenbaker. The wolf had been shooed out of her office often enough to know better than enter a room that smelled this strongly of her.
"Uh, Fraser, I got stuff to do back at the precinct, you don't mind walking back do you?" Ray said as he stood inside the doorway. Diefenbaker looked up at his human and whined.
"Can I go with Ray, please?" He seemed to beg.
"Yes, of course, Ray, that's fine. Would you mind taking Dief for me?" Fraser asked as he helped Meg ease onto the couch.
"You got it, buddy, I'll see you later." Ray agreed eagerly.
"Thank you kindly, Ray." The Mountie nodded as he took the boss lady's purse and set it on the coffee table. Ray closed the door and walked down the hall towards the elevators.
"Constable Fraser, you don't have to stay, there are a multitude of things at the consulate to occupy your time." Meg pointed out just shy of an order. If she'd admit it, she didn't want to be alone just yet.
"Turnbull and I completed the expense reports, I attended the dinner party in your stead and the consulate schedule is clear until Monday. I am completely at your disposal." Fraser offered with a brief, satisfied smile.
"How very efficient of you, Constable." Meg's tone was slightly acidic.
"I simply wanted to be helpful." Ben thought to himself as he stood at the side of the sofa in his usual, parade rest stance.
"Is there anything you'd like before I leave, Inspector?" Fraser offered, looking around the dark apartment.
"No, I'm not an invalid." Meg snapped as she slid her shoes off and pulled her feet beneath her like a cat does their tail. She saw the frustration flash in Fraser's eyes before he looked away.
"Understood, Sir." Fraser straightened a fraction, if possible. "I'll leave you now." The Mountie adjusted his Stetson and turned to walk out the front door.
"Fraser, stop." Meg barked, wincing at the harsh sound of her own voice. He stopped in his tracks, pausing a second before turning around. Meg took a deep breath.
"I shouldn't have been so... nettlesome, with you. I appreciate your concern for my well being." It was as close to an apology Meg could make herself say.
"You're quite welcome, Sir." Fraser stepped closer to the sofa.
"Would you like some tea, coffee perhaps?" The lady Mountie pulled her feet out from beneath her and started to get up.
"Thank you kindly, but allow me to make it." Fraser motioned for her to stay seated.
"Alright." She looked up at him with a flash of annoyance but didn't fuss.
"Cups and saucers are in the cabinet opposite the stove and the tea is above the stove hood, near the back." Meg directed him from her seat a few yards from the stove.
Benton walked into one of the tidiest kitchens he'd ever seen. There weren't any dirty dishes in the sink. The cabinets also looked alphabetized. An old fashioned, stainless steel tea pot sat on the stove, waiting for tea.
"There are some vanilla wafers in the cabinet as well if you'd like." Meg added, hearing the sounds of water running then cups and saucers being set carefully on a tray.
"Ah, so there is, thank you." Fraser leaned out of the kitchen door way to peer into the living room. Meg had turned on the table lamp on the end table where she sat and was scanning through her mail.
"It is difficult to find a good bakery this far south." She tore up the junk mail and stored the bills in the drawer of the end table.
"Lola Crabtree owns a bakery two blocks from the consulate, she has the most delightful maple tarts. Her mother gave her the recipe before she moved from Alberta. I bought a dozen of them the day you were …." Fraser's voice trailed off and he busied himself gathering tea and a bowl for the vanilla wafers.
"The day I miscarried." Meg finished for him. Without thinking she laid a hand on her stomach, over her now empty womb. Her heart ached at the thought.
"Yes." Fraser said low as he walked carefully into the living room carrying a tray.
"I would have bled to death if you hadn't found me." Meg crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her arms as if she felt a chill.
"Perhaps." Fraser agreed weakly, out of his depth. A few minutes later the water had boiled and the Mountie had set the tea bags to seep. He brought the tray of tea things into the living room and sat down. He then handed Meg her cup and saucer to fill the silence between them.
"I didn't thank you properly for what you've done." Meg watched the Mountie lay some of the wafers on the side of his saucer, avoiding her gaze.
"No thanks are necessary, Inspector Thatcher." He met her eyes for a moment before concentrating on his tea cup again.
"I do have a first name, I don't believe it would be against regulations for you to use it, off-duty." Meg stopped before she called him by rank. The look on Fraser's face was priceless, just as it had been the evening she'd used his first name as part of the rouse to get away from Henri Cloutier.
"Ma'am?" Benton blinked a few times as he studied her features.
"It's just a name, Fraser, it doesn't show a lack of respect to call me 'Margaret' or 'Meg' when not at the consulate." She felt her heart beating faster, anticipating the sound of her name in Fraser's voice.
"Yes, I know, it's just that, well, calling you by your Christian name seems so … personal." Benton scrambled for words. He'd wanted to call her by name for so long, wanted to do so many other things that their respective ranks barred him from doing.
"Fraser, I believe recent events have given you personal knowledge of me unknown to anyone, save Detective Vecchio." She held his gaze, silently hoping that he would see her offer for what it was; an attempt to show her appreciation.
"Margaret, it is a beautiful name." A smile twitched the corners of Fraser's lips as he met her gaze.
"At least someone thinks so." She felt a smile pulling at her own lips. They both took a sip of tea to hide smiles. An awkward silence fell between them, each sipping tea quietly in the dim room.
"Have you spoken to your parents, Insp, um, Margaret, your mother called yesterday." Fraser finally spoke.
"No, I haven't, Mom isn't exactly supportive of my decision and Dad won't speak of it whatsoever. I don't want to give them anything else to say 'I told you so', about." Meg's dark tone spoke volumes. Ben could hear pain and anger in her voice.
"Parents don't always realize the effect their words have on children." He felt so old. His father had spoken very little to him while he was alive and often what Bob Fraser said as a ghost left Ben hurting and confused.
"I can see where my mother is coming from, it is better for both the child and parents if you're married." But what if you never found someone to have a child with?
"I'm certain that she can see things from your perspective as well." Fraser offered, trying to be supportive.
"Maybe it's best that the baby didn't make it, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, for both of us." Meg sighed, staring at the wall across the room. Benton set his cup and saucer down. He had seen her angry, annoyed, flustered and amorous, but never dark like this. The pain of losing the baby was worse than Ben had anticipated.
"Margaret, any child would be blessed to have you for a mother." He took her hand from the cushion separating them on the sofa. His light eyes searched her face but saw only loss and emptiness.
"I don't know, Fraser. If my biological clock ticks much louder I'm going to scream, I'm running out of time." Meg turned to him, tears lining her soft brown eyes.
"Becoming pregnant isn't your only option, don't give up." Ben squeezed her fingers tightly for a moment. Meg met his gaze, sincerity shining in his features.
"Maybe." Meg pulled her hand away and stared at the wall. Optimism wasn't one of the many things she felt just then.
"I should let you rest now, it's been an eventful few days." Fraser gathered up their empty tea cups and saucers on the tray and set them by the kitchen sink.
"Yes, it has." The lady Mountie folded in on herself as she sat on the sofa in the dim light of a forty watt bulb.
"Call if you need anything, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser stood near the front door, his Stetson in hand. When she didn't acknowledge him the Mountie opened the front door to leave.
"Fraser," She called suddenly before he could close the door.
"Yes?" He popped his head back into the apartment.
"Thank you." Her voice was soft and a little weak.
"You are most welcome, Margaret." Ben left her with a smile.
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