Post-OP ….
Meg lay on the gurney bandaged and sleeping soundly from the anesthesia as the nurses wheeled her into the post op.
"Ms. Thatcher, it's time to wake up." One of the nurses said as she checked her pulse. Meg began to rouse as the nurse patted her hand.
"Wake up, Ms. Thatcher, you're out of surgery." Meg tried to open her eyes but couldn't. She'd forgotten she couldn't see. Panicked, she sat up and began to feel around.
"Inspector Thatcher, it's alright." Meg heard Fraser's familiar voice nearby. It eased some of her anxiety.
"She's still groggy from the anesthesia, just keep talking to her while I get her vitals." Meg heard the nurse tell Fraser.
"Inspector, I've spoken with Dr. Brown, he's pleased with the surgery." Fraser said, racking his brain to think of something to talk about.
"My eyes." Meg mumbled, her hands going to her face. She felt heavy bandaging covering her eyes from the middle of her forehead to her cheek bones.
"You had to have surgery to repair the retinas of your eyes, remember?" Fraser gently pulled her hand away from her face.
"The robbery, that thief hit me." She laid back against the bed, her vitals beginning to return to normal.
"Yes, that's correct, Inspector." Fraser answered, still holding her hand.
"Meg, you said you would call me Meg." She turned to the sound of his voice at her bed side.
"I did, didn't I, Meg." Ben said lightly. He smiled when he heard her giggle, the medication making her goofy.
"I still have to call you Fraser though don't I?" She pulled her hand out of his tender grasp.
"Some people call me Ben." He answered as the nurse walked around the bed.
"I'm sorry, but it's time to get her dressed, will you excuse us, Constable Fraser?" The nurse asked with a smile as she took the personal belongings bag from the foot of the gurney.
"Ah, yes, I'll just step into the lobby." Fraser excused himself.
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One of the nurses wheeled Meg out to entrance where Ray and the Buick sat waiting. She locked the wheel chair wheels and helped Fraser get Meg stood up. The lady Mountie was little more than a limp dish rag as Fraser helped her into the front passenger seat of the classic car.
"Best of luck, Constable Fraser." The nurse waved, her best come hither smile lighting up her face.
"Thank you kindly." Fraser nodded back as he walked around the car to get in the back seat behind Ray.
"Come on, Fraser, I haven't got all day." Ray fussed as Dief jumped in beside the Mountie.
"I appreciate you coming on such short notice, Ray." Fraser said as he leaned forward to check on the Inspector.
"Ah, don't mention it, Fraser, heaven knows that I don't have anything better to do than play taxi with you and Thatcher."
Meg could hear the conversation but the medicine made her feel like her mouth was too heavy for her to say anything. It was disconcerting to be in a vehicle, feeling the forward motion without seeing where she was going.
At the consulate Turnbull was waiting for his superior officers when Ray drove up to the curb. Fraser helped Meg out of the car then picked her up like a little girl. The junior Mountie rushed to get Meg's belongings bag from Ray who held them as if they were pink lace lingerie or something equally as frilly.
"How are you, Inspector?" Turnbull asked nearly shouting into her ear. Meg dodged his voice.
"Constable Turnbull, the Inspector is temporarily blinded, not deaf." Fraser said as he passed through the open consulate door with her in his arms.
"I'm not deaf, Dief is deaf." Meg giggled at the joke as she laid her head on Fraser's shoulder.
"I'd love to know what it was they dosed her with, it's bound to be some strong stuff." Ray said as he followed them up the stairs and into the entrance hall.
"I've freshened up the second guest suit as you requested, Constable Fraser." Turnbull closed the door behind them.
"Thank you kindly, Constable." Fraser easily carried Meg up the stairs to the last bedroom on the left and laid her gently on the four poster bed. She immediately rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. Ray and Turnbull stood behind Fraser, watching as he took off her loafers and laid a fleece blanket over her. Turning, Fraser saw the two exchange a knowing glance.
"We should leave her to rest for a while." Ben shooed them out of the bedroom and closed the door behind them.
"I've got to get going, Welsh is riding my back about paperwork again." Ray walked down the stairs. "Ma's baking a lasagna for you, I'll bring it over later." The detective shook his head.
"Give Mrs. Vecchio my sincere thanks won't you, Ray." Ben walked his friend to the door.
"Yeah, sure, Fraser, you know Ma, lasagna fixes everything." He could almost smell the melting cheese and meat as he spoke.
"Your mother is an excellent cook, I'm certain the world would be a more peaceful place if there were more gentle souls like hers." Fraser complimented easily.
"See you later, Fraser." Ray waved before getting into his Riv. The Mountie waved back. After a moment Ben walked back up the stairs, there were things to be done and the consulate was a Mountie down without Meg.
After Lasagna ….
Meg woke up hungry and confused, the room didn't smell right, not at all like her Gain scented linens and orange shampoo. She sat up, her head aching and her stomach protesting almost twenty-four hours without food.
"Fraser." Meg groaned, sitting up holding her head. "Fraser." She called again, louder. A moment later she heard the sound of heavy boots approaching on the hardwood floor.
"Yes, Meg." He said after the door flew open.
"Where am I?" She asked, feeling of the navy blue, fleur de lis patterned spread under her.
"At the consulate." He answered, standing at the foot of the bed, watching her get her bearings.
"Whatever for, what's wrong with my apartment?" Meg asked crossly.
"I felt that the consulate was more convenient." Ben answered, glad that she couldn't see him squirm.
"Please tell me that I'm not in the Queen's Suite." Meg's feet hit the floor and she felt around for her shoes. She heard Fraser take a step and then she felt him take hold of her foot. Before she could speak she felt him gently slide her loafers back on her feet.
"No, this is the Princess Margaret suite." He answered between shoes. Meg stood up and began to take timid steps into the middle of the room.
"Be careful, there's a nitrous oxide bubble behind each retina to keep them in place, Dr. Brown's instructions were to keep your head down, your forehead parallel to the ground." Fraser instructed, his hand extended toward hers.
"I have to use the lavatory and get something to eat." Meg drew her chin down to her chest. She felt Fraser take her hand and guide her to the restroom door in the corner of the room. He laid her hand on the sink marble then closed the door behind her. Fraser stepped discretely across the room while Meg was indisposed.
"I've been thinking, I'll need to gather some of my personal items from my apartment, clothes and the like. I suppose being at the consulate has an upside, at least I'll be able to answer any questions you might have." The lady Mountie groaned as she held her head with one hand and felt her way toward the door with the other.
"I'll fetch them tomorrow, first thing." Ben took her hand and lead her down the hall.
"Is there anything in the kitchen, I'm starved." Meg enjoyed his reassuring presence and the way he helped her without making her feel helpless or pathetic.
"Detective Vecchio's mother sent over a pan of lasagna, there's more than half left." Ben answered, laying Meg's free hand on the bannister. Slowly, she descended the stairs, her heel dragging down each step. Meg was glad that the stairs were carpeted, or it could have been painful going.
"I try to avoid red meat but I'm so hungry I'll make an exception ." As if to say 'Amen', her stomach growled.
"It's quite good, Meg." Ben tightened his grip on her fingers as they reached the bottom step. That made her pause, that and the sound of her name on his lips.
"Last step." Ben lead her down one more step then turned toward he kitchen. He carefully seated her at the high, pine work table in the center of the large kitchen. She listened as he opened the refrigerator, then pulled out a drawer for a serving spoon, then another for a teaspoon and fork. Next Fraser opened a higher cabinet for a plate. He dished out a hearty portion of the lasagna and put it in the microwave beneath the cabinet. Four, angry, digital beeps later Meg heard the contraption come to life. While it warmed he reopened the refrigerator and drew out a jug of orange juice. Meg listened to him unscrew the cap and take a sniff before closing it and swirling it around. Meg could tell that it was orange juice from the mouth watering tang in the air.
"Is there any coffee made, Fraser?" She asked, wrinkling her nose at the thought of orange juice with lasagna. It needed cheesy garlic bread and a red wine.
"I'll make some." The Mountie put the OJ back in the refrigerator and turned to the coffee pot. The microwave beeped noisily. Meg slid off the bar stool and felt her way to the microwave. She fumbled with the unlatching mechanism then reached in to retrieve her late dinner.
"Ouch, blast it!" She hissed as she set the extremely hot plate back on the glass turntable.
"Here, allow me." Ben took the plate out and set it on the table. He guided Meg to the kitchen sink and turned on the cold water. Gently, he put her fingers in the cold, tap water.
"It's going to be a long recovery, isn't it, Fraser." Meg said, her head hanging.
"I'd imagine the last two days have felt like an eternity." Ben commented, pulling a dish towel from the oven handle on the stove nearby.
"You have no idea." She sighed, letting him dry her hands like a child. "But I guess you do too though, I've read your medical reports from before my assignment to Chicago." She knew that he had a still painful wound from a slug to his eight thoracic vertebra. Meg could just imagine Fraser lower his head before raising it again as if there were no emotion. The pain hung in the air, in the silence, almost like smoke. Victoria's betrayal followed by Ray's near fatal shot had sidelined the Mountie for months, both physically and emotionally.
"I shouldn't have said anything." Meg said quietly.
"No need to worry." Ben's voice sounded tension free. Meg hoped he hadn't forced it.
"I should eat before it gets cold again." Meg changed the subject, her hands still tangled in Ben's and the dish towel. He took the dish towel away from her and lead her to the table. Meg found her fork and spoon without help and managed to eat the lasagna without making a mess of herself and the kitchen. After a few bites Fraser had her coffee coffee fixed to suit her and sitting on the table.
"Thank you, Fraser, you've gone above and beyond the call of duty to help me through this." Meg sat on the stood, her back straight and her hed high.
"You're welcome, Meg." Fraser answered, taking her hand to guide her back up the stairs.
"I wish I knew if he knows I mean it?" Meg wondered as she mounted the steps beside Fraser, her other hand enjoying the silky smoothness of the wooden bannister beneath her fingers. As long as she'd known Benton Fraser, she still didn't understand him. Men had always been easy to read, and easy to manipulate, all until she'd met the misplaced Mountie here in Chicago. He seemed too good to be true, but he kept proving that he was the real McCoy, every day.
"Is there anything I can do before you retire for the evening?" Ben offered as he let go of Meg's hand.
"I'll just take one of the pain killers Dr. Brown prescribed and I'll be fine." Meg took a seat on the bed, slipping her feet out of her loafers and pulling her feet up beneath her. She stared sightlessly toward the door where Fraser stood watching her.
"I'll be downstairs if you need anything." Fraser turned to leave. He heard Meg throw back the comforter and fluff the pillows.
"Fraser" He had only stepped a few feet from the door when he heard her call his name.
"Yes?" He called through the door.
"I don't have anything to wear tonight." She answered from the other side of the door. Ben leaned his head against the door, groaning. He hadn't anticipated that.
"Let me see what I can find, just a moment." He shoved himself away from the wall and hurried to his office. Ben pulled out his foot locker and rummaged for a minute. He came up with a dark t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants.
"They'll swallow her, but they're better than nothing." Ben stood stock still, the thought of Meg in nothing flashing through his mind. "Oh dear." He muttered to himself. The Mountie took a long, calming breath before he took the change of clothes upstairs and tapped on the door.
"Come in, Fraser." Meg called, seated on the turned down bed, her blouse untucked, the bed side lamp light casting a golden glow about her.
"I've found a t-shirt and sweatpants for tonight." He laid them beside her on the bed and began to back away.
"Thank you, Fraser." Meg waited until she heard the door close and the sound of his steps growing faint before she pressed the clothing to her nose and inhaled his singular scent. If she couldn't see him at least she could smell him, that was some comfort.
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