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"Oh, Constable Fraser, I believe the Inspector would like to speak to you." Turnbull offered helpfully as he met him in the hallway. Fraser had been wondering about Meg. He'd heard her short, aggravated outbursts from his own office, not to mention she'd made it quite clear she blamed him for the accident.
"Thank you kindly, Constable Turnbull." Fraser nodded, steeling himself for an angry Inspector Thatcher. Fraser tapped on the door before opening it slightly.
"Inspector, you wanted to see me?" Fraser stepped in tentatively.
"No, I didn't, not yet anyway." Meg leaned her head against her hand, eyes closed. Fraser saw a tear hit the desk blotter in front of her. She took a deep breath and let it out in a tired sigh.
"Oh, my apologies." He turned to leave.
"Fraser, I did have one matter to discuss." Meg called before he reached the door. She had lifted her head, her unseeing eyes looking in his direction.
"Yes, Inspector." He turned, expectantly.
"As you know, I'm having surgery first thing in the morning." Meg had tried all afternoon to think of a way to phrase her next question. "If something should happen, would you make the decision as my representative? If you don't feel comfortable, I understand completely." Meg heard Fraser shift from one foot to the other.
"Are you certain, Inspector, this is, ah, this is …." Fraser was flabbergasted.
"I trust you to carry out my wishes, Constable." Meg wished she could see his face, to get a glimpse of the answer he would give her. "As I said, if you don't feel comfortable I understand."
"What are your wishes if something should happen?" Fraser asked, rubbing his ear lobe between his thumb and index finger.
"I don't want to be kept on life support for a prolonged period of time. I want my organs donated and my body sent back to be buried in my father's family cemetery. It's all here." Meg searched her desk for the file she'd had Turnbull dig out for her. Fraser stepped nearer to the desk.
"Is it marked 'Will', Sir?" He asked.
"Yes, that's it, Constable Fraser. It contains all my important information, anything you'd need if something should happen." Meg answered.
Fraser could see how hard this was for her to do, to trust him so completely with her life. He'd seen the spark of fear on her features when he'd gone into the emergency exam room. "This must be her worst nightmare." Ben had thought to himself.
"I will do my best, Inspector Thatcher." He said solemnly.
"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Meg said simply, not wanting to admit that there wasn't anyone else to ask.
"You have but to ask, Inspector." He said kindly. Meg felt a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, tugging gently for her to give in.
"May I ask one more favor, Constable Fraser?" She said quietly.
"Yes." He answered.
"Will you take me home and walk me to my apartment?" Meg hated the feeling of helplessness asking brought.
"Certainly, whenever you're ready to leave the consulate." Fraser made it sound like a pleasure instead of a chore. It lessened Meg's feelings of dependence.
"Call the cab company and I'll get my jacket and purse." Meg answered, hoping she wouldn't stumble too badly on her way to the coat tree near the door.
"A cab will be here in a moment." Fraser hung up the phone as he saw Meg struggling to find the arm hole of her jacket. "Here, allow me to help." He took the jacket from him and turned it right side out for her.
"I'm not useless, Fraser." Meg fussed as he guided her hand into the correct arm hole of her velvet jacket.
"You were putting it on wrong side out, Sir." Fraser said patiently as he straightened the collar around her neck.
"Oh," The lady Mountie looked down as she felt embarrassment rising.
"Think nothing of it." Fraser handed Meg her purse. Together they walked out into the cool, breezy evening. Meg was grateful for Fraser's strong arm when she missed a step and almost fell down the cement steps on her backside. It was harder being incapacitated than she had ever imagined.
"Where to?" The cab driver asked when Fraser had seated himself beside Meg in the back of the taxi. The car smelled of sweat and pine air freshener, along with something Meg was certain she didn't want to think about.
"801 Alderson Street, please." Meg answered automatically. It wasn't a fancy, upscale, lake view address, but it was in a comfortable neighborhood convenient to the consulate.
"Here you go." The cab driver said with a careless shrug as he pulled the vehicle to the curb. Meg began fumbling for the fare.
"Here you go, keep the change." Fraser said as he handed the driver the fare.
"Hey, this isn't the right color." The driver protested. "That's the right color." He said more agreeably when Fraser sweetened the fare with an American ten.
"Good evening, Sir." Fraser wished the driver as he neared Meg's door.
"Yeah, you too." The driver said as he watched the Mountie in the side mirror. He saw the tender way the red clad officer took Meg's hand as she stepped out carefully, still nearly knocking her head on the door frame.
Meg heard the car drive away from the curb and felt Fraser's hand lay hers along his forearm. Slowly, they walked up the handful of steps leading to the entrance.
"Hello, Ms. Thatcher." Harvey, the doorman greeted her.
"Good evening, Harvey, how are you?" Meg said automatically, turning to where she thought he was standing. The uniformed doorman started to ask but Fraser shushed him.
"I'm fine, Ms. Thatcher, have a good night." The forty-ish doorman said as he held the door for them.
Once outside her door, Meg fumbled in her purse for the key to her apartment. It took two tries before she found it in the bottom of the small bag. Even the simplest tasks were more complicated now. Fraser took her keys without a word and unlocked the door. Meg bit her tongue, she knew he was helping her. Without Fraser, she could have handed the cab driver a fifty and he'd never have told her any different.
"Here you are, Inspector." The Mountie escorted her to the sofa in the living room of her modest but comfortable apartment.
"Thank you, Fraser." Meg said as she tried to lay her purse on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She ended up dumping it's contents all over the floor. It was the last straw. Meg leaned back against the black, leather loveseat, her hands covering her face as she wept. She heard Fraser close the door and the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor coming toward her.
"Is there anything I can get for you, Sir?" He said as he stooped to put her things back in the small purse.
"Wake me up from this bad dream, Fraser." She said, leaning her head back against the wall.
"I would that I could." He snapped the purse shut and laid it on the coffee table as she'd intended to before.
"I can't believe this happened to me, I was simply trying to apprehend that thief, to keep him from getting the handgun and killing you." Meg snuffed as she tried to stop crying. She didn't want to come unglued, especially not in front of him.
"You were instrumental in catching him, Inspector and I'm grateful that you were there to keep him away from the handgun." Fraser perched on the loveseat beside her, his voice low but clear as he spoke. "I feel responsible for what's happened." The Mountie admitted, studying his boots for a moment. Meg turned to face him, surprised.
"Because of what I said when we got back to the consulate?" Meg nearly gasped.
"If I had parked as you asked me to, we would have been on time, perhaps things would be different." She knew he'd shrugged despite her blindness.
"Fraser, you can 'what if', until you turn blue in the face, it won't change what happened. I made the decision to leave the car and run after you. It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have said what I did." Meg stopped short of saying she was sorry at first. Saying she was sorry made her feel vulnerable. Then she realized that she was a lot more vulnerable than saying she was sorry would leave her.
"I'm sorry, Constable Fraser, that what I said lead you to believe I blamed you." Meg said humbly.
"I can understand if you did, Inspector. After the shooting, I had similar feelings toward Ray." Fraser admitted. It had taken a long time to repair their relationship, but they had eventually.
GROWL! Rumbled up from Meg's stomach before she could say anything.
"You haven't eaten since lunch." She could hear the smile in Fraser's voice.
"No, I haven't, all I've eaten is a pack of crackers out of my desk and coffee." Meg wondered what there was in her kitchen she could fix without actually having to cook. Then she decided against trying.
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, will you call Li's Panda Hut for me, I've inconvenienced you tonight, the least I can do is provide dinner." Meg found her cordless phone and handed it to Fraser, along with a menu. She heard him dial the number and three rings before Li, the owner, answered.
"What would you like, Inspector?" Fraser asked, covering the phone with one hand.
"Tell him it's Meg Thatcher, to send my usual order." Meg answered. She smiled at the thought of Li's excellent crab rangoon and lomein noodles.
"He wants to know if you want extra crab rangoon this time?" Fraser relayed.
"Yes, please, oh, and get whatever you want, Fraser." Meg kicked off her heels and leaned back against the leather love seat.
"Yes, Mr. Li, make that two orders, thank you kindly." Fraser ended the call and reached across Meg to hang the phone up.
"I hadn't realized I was famished." Meg fumbled with the large, gold buttons on her velvet jacket. Fraser let her do it for herself. "You must be too." All the sudden Meg couldn't shut herself up, she didn't know why she was rambling.
"Is there anything I can get you while we wait?" Fraser offered, looking around at the tastefully decorated apartment. He'd never been to her place before, although he'd imagined it often enough. It did and didn't look like what Ben expected of his superior officer's home.
"No, I'm fine, thank you, Fraser." Meg answered, pulling her feet up beneath her on the love seat. It was like watching a cat curl up in it's favorite snoozing spot. The love seat sat opposite the front door, beside the door was a small television on a walnut book shelf reaching to the ceiling, full of books. Beside the television sat a record player on a painted, plywood stand, records stored beneath it. There were a few pictures scattered around the living room, mostly of Meg and her parents during her childhood.
"You're looking around my living room, aren't you, Fraser." Meg said, turning on a lamp beside the love seat.
"I was simply noticing the leather bound edition of Robinson Crusoe you have." Fraser answered, getting up to examine it more closely.
"I've read it several times, my father read it to me first, before I could read." Meg smiled, remembering her father and the way he made up voices for the characters.
"My grandfather read it to me as well." The Mountie turned back to her, seeing the reminiscent smile.
"I may have to learn to read all over again in Braille if this surgery doesn't go well." Meg's smile faded. Ben crossed the room to her.
"Nonsense, you'll be fine." He sounded more certain than he felt.
"If I don't regain my sight I'll be forced to leave the RCMP, Fraser, what will I do then?" The thought chilled Meg to her core. She felt like crying but what good would that do?
A hundred things ran through Ben's mind as he looked at the strong, intelligent woman he'd come to know since she'd taken the helm at the Canadian Consulate. Ray may call her a dragon lady, but he knew different. Beneath her harsh, often frigid exterior lay the beating heart of a soft, warm woman.
"You'll be fine." Ben repeated, taking a seat on the couch beside her. Meg hugged herself, trying to ward off the chill that had taken hold of her.
"Li's Panda Hut." a young, male voice called after a knock interrupted the sad scene.
"Hand me my purse, please, Fraser." Meg asked as he stood up to answer the door. She found her wallet and pulled out what she hoped was a twenty dollar bill.
"Hello, Ms. Thatcher, Uncle Li was surprised when a guy placed the order." A young man with smiling eyes and an embroidered name tag denoting his name as Derek.
"Tell your uncle hello for me." Meg handed Fraser the bank note to give Derek.
"Have a good night, Ms. Thatcher, enjoy." The young man wished her with a broad smile as he handed Fraser two bags rolling full of food.
"You as well, Derek." Meg waved from the couch. It surprised Fraser that the doorman and now the delivery guy called her Ms instead of Inspector. He didn't want to ask, but curiosity kept him wondering.
"There's flatware in the kitchen if you'd prefer it, Fraser." Meg offered, pointing vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.
"Perhaps it would be best to have some handy." Fraser went to the kitchen, leaving Meg to smell the delicious scent of crab rangoon, lo mein noodles, General Tso's chicken and other goodies sitting in containers on the coffee table. Carefully, Meg pulled the table closer to the loveseat. Her stomach protested the lack of lunch or an early dinner.
"I brought paper towels as well." Fraser spoke as he walked back into the living room with a handful of flatware and a roll of paper towels. He stopped when he saw her feeling the edge of the table to make certain she didn't set the containers into thin air.
"Good." Meg said, setting a container on a magazine. "This is the last thing I get to eat before midnight." She frowned, wishing she could eat breakfast the next morning.
Ben sat down and began opening boxes to see what he'd ordered. Most of it he could identify from the heavenly scent. Quietly, he watched Meg as she tried to spear lo mein noodles with chopsticks. It was funny but it wasn't at the same time. Ben remembered the first few days in the hospital after being shot. He couldn't dress, couldn't move, couldn't bathe, the world felt very limited and frustrating.
"Would you hand me a fork, Fraser, I shouldn't have opened these chopsticks." Meg scowled as she set the container of noodles on her lap for a moment. The Mountie handed her a fork without saying anything.
"I can't even feed myself properly." Meg fumed, taking the fork after Ben handed it to her. "And don't say I'll be fine." She snapped before she thought.
"I know that right now you aren't fine, Inspector, you're hurt and frustrated and scared. Nothing in your world is fine just now." Ben replied calmly. He knew how she felt and that was alright with him. That acceptance made Meg feel a bit better, even if it didn't change anything.
"I shouldn't have snapped, Fraser." Meg set her noodles aside for a moment, leaning her aching head against her hand. She could still sense the light but couldn't make out useful images.
"Thank you for dinner, Inspector." Fraser gathered his empty containers up and put them in the plastic bag they'd been delivered in.
"You're leaving already, Fraser?" Meg asked, fear evident in her voice. It was nearly ten o'clock.
"Is there something you need me to do first?" He said as he stood in the middle of her living room. Panic tore through Meg and the Mountie could see it as clearly as he could see her lovely, sightless eyes. Ben had never seen her fearful like this. It was disconcerting to him. Meg couldn't speak. How was she supposed to say that she wanted him to stay the night with her?
"No, no, I'll be alright." Meg sat back against the loveseat, her features still pinched with worry.
"I can stay if you'd like, Inspector." He offered.
"That wouldn't be proper, Constable Fraser." Meg said almost before he could finish the sentence.
"You're right, Inspector." He agreed. There was a moment of dead silence between them. On one hand he wanted to see her safely through the night but on the other he still had to take care of Diefenbaker.
Meg wondered if Ben had left the apartment, he was so quiet. She took up her noodles again but they just didn't satisfy her. What was one night alone in her own apartment?
"I can stay if you'd like, Inspector." Ben offered again, breaking the silence.
"What about your wolf?" Meg turned to where she thought Ben stood.
"I'll telephone Ray."
"Will you be comfortable on the loveseat, it isn't very long." Meg asked, uncurling.
"It will be fine." Meg knew he was trying to be accommodating but the only other option was sharing her bed. As much as she'd fantasized about that, now wasn't the time. Standing up, Meg managed to find her way to the hall closet between her kitchen and the bedroom. Opening the door, she laid a hand on her spare linens. The whole closet smelled of the Gain dryer sheets she slipped between the yards of material. There were pillow cases, fitted and flat sheets, blankets and two, large spare pillows on the top shelves. Along the bottom shelves were bath towels and wash cloths, all in navy blue or red.
"Here's the spare linen you'll need, help yourself, Fraser." Meg offered, hearing his heavy foot falls on the wood flooring beside her.
"Thank you, Inspector, I'll be quite comfortable." Ben assured her with a smile.
"The restroom is there, behind us." Meg pointed toward a moderately large washroom decorated in a classic, lighthouse motif. Ben had expected something more frilly, with lace and potpourri. Then again, Meg wasn't given to dress in frills and flounces. She wore classy, professional business suits that flattered her figure and complimented her complexion.
"Let me know if you need anything, Fraser." Meg turned away from the shelves and right into the Mountie. He took her by the shoulders to steady her.
"My apologies, I wasn't paying attention." Ben stepped back. He'd been studying the Inspector's linen closet. Her apartment told him more about her than he could observe at the consulate. Ben had gained insight into the very private woman he'd been working with for months, the woman he'd kissed atop a runaway train, whom he'd gazed intently upon as she cleaned pain ball splatter off his cheek.
"I'll see you bright and early in the morning, Constable Fraser." Meg closed the door and stepped the few paces to her large bedroom. When she opened the door Ben spied a large, queen sized cast iron framed bed with a solid, sky blue comforter and white, eyelet lace pillow shams. An Oriental rug covered the space between the bed and a wall full of book shelves opposite the bed. An antique writing desk sat beside the desk with an ivory shaded Victorian style lamp.
"My alarm should go off at five o'clock, just enough time to get ready and get to the hospital." Meg ran her hand through her dark tresses as she held onto the door knob with the other.
"Good night, Inspector." Ben wished her. Part of him wanted to pull her into a comforting hug and let her rest against him until this whole thing was over. If only he knew that Meg wanted the same thing.
"Good night, Constable." Meg said softly, opening the door wider. She leaned on the door until she heard his steps trailing down the hallway toward the living room. Her heart skipped a beat having Fraser staying the night at her house. It was a dream come true, if only the circumstances were different. That thought made Meg a bit sad. Whomever she had a liaison with, they would never be Fraser and he would never loosen up enough to make the first move. Meg tried to imagine his face the last time she'd seen it clearly at the restaurant, how his clear, green eyes lightened in the sun light and how his lower lip was so kissable. She tried to remember how it had felt when he'd gone after that fallen bobby pin on the train, his arms sliding down her frame, making her quiver from the heat of his touch. Meg could almost feel that heat as she dressed in her comfy pajamas.
Ben watched her until she closed the door. Having her so close was like standing with both feet in a camp fire. He wanted so badly to comfort her, to make things better, to feel her body pressed against his, even in the most innocent of ways. The Mountie walked quietly down the hall, a pillow and blanket in hand. It was going to be an interesting night sleeping on a loveseat.
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