Two Months Later ….
After healing, both mentally and physically, Meg decided to go back to Dr. Milton's office to try again. The weather had gone from pleasantly spring to sweltering summer. An occasional breeze off the lake kept the city from melting into a puddle.
"Fraser, I've got an appointment at Dr. Milton's downtown, afterward I'll be taking the afternoon off." Meg spoke low after knocking on his office door. The Mountie had popped up as if on a spring board.
"Yes, Sir, are there any further instructions?" Fraser asked as he stood at attention behind his desk, his face impassive. Indecision crossed Meg's face before she could stifle it.
"No, I'll call if I think of something." The Inspector adjusted the hem of her dark lavender blazer and turned to leave.
"May I ask a personal question, Inspector?" Fraser's heart beat like a jackhammer as he anticipated Meg's response. She lifted a brow curiously.
"Go on, Constable Fraser." Meg said slowly. She watched him take a deep breath, obviously working up the nerve for whatever he planned to say.
"Are you certain you wish to continue the in vitro process after, ah, after recent events?" He met Meg's gaze, concern creeping into his green eyes.
"Yes, Fraser, I do." The lady Mountie had anticipated this question. She'd been asking herself the same thing since the miscarriage. For a moment she wondered what his thoughts of her were. Fraser had admitted admiring her but did he still feel that way or had he hoped it would be a failure?
"Have you got something on your mind, Constable Fraser?" Meg asked stiffly. The Mountie studied her for a moment before answering, his face unreadable.
"No, Inspector, I do not." Fraser had a million things on his mind, foremost finding her nearly unconscious and bleeding behind her desk.
"As if you'd say it if you did." Meg thought, new resolve filling her.
"I should be going." The Inspector spoke crisply before turning and leaving her subordinate officer's small office.
After Work …
Ray Kowalski, currently known as Vecchio, waltzed through the consulate's main hallway toward his friend's home/office. The GTO sat outside, shining like a dark jewel, as usual. The lanky, blond detective from the Twenty-seventh Precinct whistled as he neared the Mountie's door.
"Come in, Ray, I'll be ready in a moment." Fraser's voice met his ears. Ray found the misplaced Canadian tying his boot laces, his jeans pulled up above the buff colored footwear.
"Dief comin with us?" Ray leaned against the door frame, his light blue eyes scanning the small space. He still marveled at how Fraser lived in such a coffin sized room.
"Yes, I believe he's anxious to beg a hotdog from the vendor at the park." Fraser adjusted his pant leg before standing up.
"I've never been to one of these precinct shindigs, what's the deal?" Ray asked, crossing his arms over his red Bulls t-shirt.
"The precinct's staff gather to socialize with fellow officers and their families. Lieutenant Welsh usually mans the barbecue grill. It's quite pleasant actually." Fraser took his Stetson off the peg where he kept it and set it firmly on his head.
"Frannie's been cookin' all day for this." Ray didn't sound overly excited about going to the annual gathering.
"Lasagna or potato salad?" Fraser asked, hoping for German potato salad.
"Both." Ray began walking toward the front door as Fraser closed his office door. Walking by the Inspector's office the detective wondered about her.
"How's Thatcher doin' these days?" He paused to let Fraser catch up.
"The Inspector has decided to attempt the IVF process once more."
Ray noticed the usually neutral expression on Fraser's face was one of concern instead.
"Sheesh, nearly bleedin' to death wasn't lesson enough?" Ray quipped sarcastically.
"It's nearly impossible to dissuade Inspector Thatcher once she's decided on a course of action." Fraser put it mildly. Meg Thatcher was one of the most stubborn people he'd ever encountered, not counting his father.
"Women, can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em." Ray snickered as he waited on the consulate steps for Fraser to lock the front door.
"Without women the human species would die out in little over half a century, as it would without the male of our species." Fraser went into 'Professor' mode. Ray tuned him out mostly.
"What's your take on all this anyway, I know you said you wish her luck and all that jazz, but aren't you worried Thatcher might get burnt doin' this? What if she has some psycho, serial killer's kid 'er somethin'" Both men slid into black gem of an American muscle car, Dief taking his usual spot in the backseat. He peered out the front window, his muzzle between the humans.
"Ray, that's absurd, there are guidelines that much be adhered to in order for someone to become a donor." Fraser answered, a note of irritability in his voice. The car pulled smoothly into the flow of heavy traffic.
"And you know this how, Fraser? You been a sperm donor before?" Ray snickered as he flew through an intersection on a yellow light.
"No, Ray, I have however, researched the process quite thoroughly. The process for humans is quite similar to that which farmers use to produce the best breed of stock." Again, the Mountie went into 'Professor' mode.
"Yeah, I don't wanna know about that weird, science crap." The detective shivered. It all reminded him of the fetal pigs his ninth grade science teacher had put on display during biology.
"It's a natural part of the life cycle, Ray, there's nothing weird about it."
"It's weird, that's all I'm sayin'." The detective wagged his index finger at his friend.
"Actually, I'm more concerned about the Inspector's health, she's not as sturdy as she'd like others to believe." Fraser frowned as he stared straight ahead, talking with his hands.
"Especially me." He thought sadly. Benton wouldn't have thought any less of her if she'd asked for help or showed weakness. He'd felt weak often enough himself.
"Maybe she's like one of them kids that has to, you know, touch the stove to find out it's actually hot." Ray shrugged as he cruised down the street, looking sideways at a white, 1953 Chevrolet Corvette parked along the street, fully restored, the top down.
"Perhaps." Fraser agreed mildly.
Ray saw the concern on his friend's face. He didn't usually say this much about what was going on with Thatcher. The detective figured the situation must really be weighing on the Mountie's mind. Ray didn't feel like the person to be giving relationship advice so he said nothing. His ex-wife, Stella, was living proof that Ray wasn't good with women.
After Hours ….
Fraser took a deep breath before knocking on Meg's apartment door. He tapped lightly at first.
"Just a moment." The off duty, lady Mountie called from somewhere deep within her quarters. When she answered the door she wore a pair of baggy jogging pants and a loose, red RCMP t-shirt. Her make-up had been washed away and her short hair looked like she'd raked her fingers through it.
"Fraser, good afternoon, I'm surprised to see you." She stepped aside to let him enter. Quickly, Meg looked around her living room, hoping she hadn't left anything out of place.
"I came to make certain you were alright, after your appointment." Ben shut the door behind him and stood on the door mat, not daring to venture into her house.
"I'm fine, thank you for coming. It was just a few tests, more of a consultation really." Meg laid her hand over the bend of her left arm to hide the bandage where they'd drawn blood.
Ben wondered if he should leave. Meg stood in the center of the room, her feet bare, looking anywhere but at him. A long, awkward pause stretched out between them.
"Have you eaten, Constable Fraser? I was just about to fix something for dinner." Meg finally spoke, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I couldn't possibly, Ray and I went to the precinct picnic this afternoon. Several of the women brought covered dishes they insisted I try." The Mountie had a constitution of a an ox, but he needed one of a pig to eat all the barbecue cocktail wieners and cherry cheesecakes that had been brought especially for him. That had been four hours before and he still felt a little green around the gills.
Meg's lips quirked, dying to smile. She could only imagine the women flocking around Fraser, their blouses pulled down to the wherefore, plates in hand. He had probably blushed all afternoon.
"Where's your wolf, he usually accompanies you everywhere?" Meg asked to keep from laughing.
"He has an upset stomach, too many hotdogs." Fraser answered, still standing on the door mat.
"Tea then?" Meg offered, walking into the kitchen to Fraser's right.
"Yes, thank you, Inspector." Fraser watched her pull down a canister of tea from the cabinet next to the stove before filling a tea pot. She moved with fluid grace. He couldn't help but gaze at her; so unguarded in her own kingdom.
"We're off-duty, Fraser, I'm not an Inspector." She reminded him, lips pursed but amusement in her eyes.
"Yes, we are, Margaret." Ben amended, feeling out of sorts.
"Have a seat, I'll bring your tea out when it's ready." Meg pointed toward the sofa beyond the bar separating the kitchen and living room. Fraser nodded.
Lying on the coffee table Fraser saw the real estate pages out of several newspapers. Some of the ads were circled and others were crossed out.
"She's looking for a two bedroom apartment." Fraser surmised, picking up one of the pages.
"I've narrowed it down to four possibilities." Meg's voice startled Benton. She set down a mug of tea and laid sugar packets on the coffee table.
"I see you have already made several inquiries." He pointed toward some of the crossed out ads.
"Yes, I suppose I'm being picky, but I want to move into a secure neighborhood." Meg's hand fluttered over her flat abdomen.
"I disagree, raising a child in a secure environment is important." Fraser agreed quickly, noting the pricy neighborhoods the remaining ads were located.
"I'm almost glad I'm not a field officer anymore." The lady Mountie stood up to return to the kitchen where she poured chicken flavored Raman noodles into a bowl, she added crushed saltine crackers and yellow mustard. When she sat down again she saw the suspicious look Fraser gave her comfort food. She sat on one end of the couch, bare feet tucked beneath her as she leaned on the arm.
"What?" Meg asked, eying him.
"Oh, nothing, Margaret." Ben went back to his usual, impassive mask.
"It crossed your mind, you might as well say it, Fraser." She pushed him, lifting out a small spoon full of the odd concoction.
"I've heard that women have unusual cravings during pregnancy, but you aren't expecting yet." A mischievous twinkle shone in his light eyes.
"This from the man who sniffs and licks crime scene evidence off dead bodies." Meg huffed in playful shock.
"It isn't as if I do so on purpose." Ben huffed back, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth.
"You do so, Detective Vecchio, ah, the other Ray, complains about it constantly." Meg uncurled one leg and shoved Fraser's jeans clad knee with her foot.
"He does at that. I still do not do it to be unpleasant though." Ben met her gaze, Meg's leg still stretched out across the couch between them. Gently, he laid one hand over her foot. From heel to toe, it hardly measured longer than his his hand.
"How do you stand smelling all those disgusting things anyway?" Meg asked, slowly eating her noodles.
"Practice I suppose, and I did spend several days hiding in an elk carcass, the stench was hallucinogenic." Absently, Ben began rubbing Meg's foot, his strong hands feeling delightful as he told the story behind the elk carcass.
"Ah, Fraser," Meg hated to but she couldn't let him go on massaging her feet or she'd end up doing something silly, like curl up in his lap like a kitten.
"Yes, Margaret?" His brows lifted inquisitively.
"My foot." She pointed with her soup spoon.
"Oh dear, my apologies." He yanked his hands away from her foot, crossing his arms over his chest. Ben's face reddened as he stared straight ahead.
"I should be on my way now, Diefenbaker may need to have an extra walk around the block before the night is through." Fraser stood up and found his Stetson. He thought to himself, "How could I cross the line like that?" It had happened and part of the Mountie wished it would happen again.
"I'll see you at the consulate tomorrow morning." Meg went back to her professional demeanor.
"Good evening, Ins, I mean, Margaret." Ben nodded as he opened the door to let himself out.
"Good evening, Fraser." Meg wished him. "Sleep well, Ben." She whispered once the door had closed firmly.
"You as well, Meg." He whispered back, his keen ears a blessing for a change.
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