For the man sound in body and serene of mind there is no such thing as bad weather! every sky has its beauty, and storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously. ~ O. Henry
A hellacious late winter storm had hit Chicago with both fists and a few kicks. Near-hurricane force winds swept across the plains and churned up the Great Lakes. The storm threw wind, freezing rain, and then snow at the city. Trees toppled into houses, cars and knocked out power lines. All emergency crews were on-call as soon as meteorologists began issuing warnings. Groceries flew off store shelves, even at gas stations. People bought snow shovels, de-icer, candles, batteries, as well as extra gasoline for generators and their vehicles. Schools dismissed early and churches opened early to provide the community with warming stations where people could stay safe and get a hot meal.
The snow and wind seemed to excite Diefenbaker instead of deter him. The half-wolf pranced as he and Constable Benton Fraser R.C.M.P. walked around the city block. The Constable had opted to wear his Stetson, though he wondered when it would fly off, considering the severe wind. Perhaps I should have worn the muskrat instead, he thought idly as tugged on the fur-lined mittens Maggie had sent him for Christmas.
Nearing the consulate once more, Constable Fraser wondered at Diefenbaker's sudden stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Struggling up the sidewalk came Inspector Thatcher. She had indeed chosen to wear the muskrat hat as well as her high browns and dress reds beneath her navy pea coat. She pulled a large piece of luggage on wheels as she fumbled with her keys through her gloves.
"Inspector Thatcher, may I help you?" Fraser asked. He looked her over from the tip of her muskrat to the slush covering her boots, wondering why she wore her uniform though off-duty. He started to ask but as soon as he opened his mouth she silenced him with an icy glare.
"Don't ask. My uniform is the warmest thing I own. The electricity, therefore the heat, is off in my apartment building. It was the uniform or freeze to death. The water pipes burst and I don't have anywhere else to go while Maintenance replaces them." The Inspector handed Fraser the handle of her rolling luggage and turned to unlock the front door.
"Very well. Welcome to Canada, Inspector." She turned to give him a withering glare.
Diefenbaker shot up the stairs ahead of Fraser, eager to take his place in front of the fireplace. Fraser deposited the Inspector's luggage in her office and found both wolf and woman in the sitting room, near the fire. The Inspector had laid aside her gloves, coat and muskrat hat to work on the fire coals Fraser had left banked while he walked Diefenbaker for the evening.
"I'm glad that I didn't have the consulate switched to natural gas." She soon had a crackling blaze going in the fireplace and sat beside Diefenbaker, soaking up the warmth. Like the bulk of the city, the consulate had lost power as well.
Fraser stood in the doorway to the sitting room watching the scene. The yellow glow of the fire light lit the Inspector's face, already complimented by the warm red of her uniform. The dancing light cast shadows around the room. She sat staring at the flames, her legs tucked to one side.
My word, she is beautiful, Ben thought wistfully.
"Did you need something, Constable?" the Inspector asked, staring up at him from the rug near the hearth.
"No, ma'am." Ben began to dig at his eyebrow. "Are you hungry?" he asked, turning away before she could see the creeping blush on his face. He fiddled with the oil lamp he'd found in a closet, lighting it and setting the wick.
"Yes." The Inspector rose to her feet, straightening her tunic as she followed Fraser into the kitchen.
"Oh dear. I'm afraid there isn't much to speak of in the way of provisions without electricity to cook them." Fraser clucked his tongue at himself for not laying in the proper supplies.
"Hotdogs are fine. I haven't had a hot meal since the storm took out the electricity." The Inspector's stomach growled to prove her point.
"There are some skewers here somewhere." Fraser used a pen light to find what he was looking for in the drawers. He pulled out two skewers as the Inspector gathered hotdogs, buns, condiments, and assorted necessities. Together, they made their way back to the sitting room. Diefenbaker perked up as soon as he smelled food.
"Ah, I should have brought a third skewer." Fraser shooed the wolf-dog from directly in front of the fire to lie on a blanket put down for him earlier.
"Fine weather for a picnic," the Inspector commented as she slid her hotdog onto a skewer before introducing it to the flames.
Fraser blinked in surprise, having heard her rarely joke. He didn't know what to make of it at first.
"Did I forget anything?" The Inspector rummaged through the clutch of things she'd brought.
"Everything seems to be in order." Fraser pulled his hotdog from the flames and laid it on a paper plate. Diefenbaker promptly ate it without preamble or invitation.
"Such manners, Dienbaker. We have a guest," Fraser scolded the wolf-dog who only licked his chops and settled back down on his blanket to doze. When Fraser turned to skewer himself a hotdog, he saw the Inspector biting back a smile. She took a cautious bite of her own hotdog wrapped in a bun and trimmed in ketchup. They had attended several consular events where dinner had been served but he'd never seen her with a dab of ketchup on her chin.
"You have a little…" He pointed to his chin and then to hers. "Right there." She accepted the napkin he offered and quickly whisked the dribble away.
"Thank you."
As they continued to eat in silence the wind outside howled, fairly screaming as it raced around the building. Shingles on the roof flapped and the window panes rattled in protest to such rough treatment. A draft of air found its way down the chimney, making the fire gutter and dance. The Inspector glanced around the room nervously.
"I should check the building." Fraser laid aside his paper plate and rose to take the lantern.
"I'll go with you." Fraser hadn't gotten half a step before the Inspector caught up to him. She straightened her tunic, her hands grasping the hem as she kept pace with her junior officer. Fraser didn't protest, seeing her face pale and the way she bit her bottom lip. He led the way with the lantern, checking each office door along the way. Just as they neared the Inspector's office they heard a heavy thump. The Inspector yelped in surprise and grabbed Fraser's free hand.
"What was that?" she whispered.
"The sound came from your office." Fraser slowly pushed the office door open, his lantern casting strange, dancing shadows on the wall. The Inspector made every move he did in lock-step.
"I believe this is the source of the noise, ma'am." He held up the lantern to illuminate her rolling luggage which had fallen to the hardwood floor. "The wind must have shook the building to its foundation, vibrating along a floor joist."
"We should finish checking the rest of the building." The Inspector let Fraser lead, but she let go of his hand, content to remain at his elbow. They checked the first floor offices and spaces first before moving upstairs. A creaking then a crash followed by a blaring car alarm brought them up short.
"Mrs. Anderson's white spruce tree fell across their driveway. I don't see any major damage except to the yard," Fraser commented, knowing full well that the Inspector couldn't see without her glasses. "I'll assist with the clean up tomorrow, after the storm." He made a mental note to collect some of the wood chips for deodorizing his father's footlocker and the closets. It would also deter vermin.
Satisfied that the consulate was secure, the pair moved back downstairs to the sitting room where Diefenbaker had helped himself to what was left of Fraser's second hotdog and bun.
"It's a wonder he left any in the package for me." Fraser shook his head at the sleeping wolf-dog.
"He seems to be sleeping like a wolf with a clear conscience." The Inspector took her seat and skewered herself another hotdog. Fraser joined her a moment later, laying the package out of Diefenbaker's reach.
"He always does." Fraser shrugged.
Inspector and Constable sat before the fire, turning their skewers slowly as they mulled over their own thoughts.
Why is she really here? Doesn't she have anyone in the city she could have stayed with? Have I ever heard her mention acquaintances? Why not a hotel?
Fraser couldn't recall her mentioning any friends' names or making plans with anyone other than dates.
She didn't want to be alone, that's why she's here!
The revelation surprised Ben. He wondered if her water pipes had actually burst or if it was a ruse to spend the night at the consulate.
"How long will it take Maintenance to fix the burst water pipes?" He watched her reaction from the corner of his eye.
"A few days I suppose. They didn't really specify," the Inspector answered casually, her body language indicating truthfulness.
After finishing their meal the Inspector and Constable settled down in silence, staring at the flames as they leaned against the couch Fraser had pulled up for just that purpose. The Inspector began absently stroking Dief's head. The old wolf-dog nuzzled against her thigh for more pets. He sighed when she began rubbing his ears.
"You've made a friend for life. He loves that almost as much as donuts." Ben watched a half smile pull at the Inspector's mouth.
"I'll make a note of that," she shook her head wryly.
Eating, they fell into a companionable silence. That didn't mean that Ben's mind didn't turn and spin, wondering at the Inspector's presence and its meaning. He had so much to say and yet nothing at all. Where to start? Ben knew the usual rules of work when it came to the Inspector, which is why he thought of her as "Inspector" instead of her Christian name. Those three little letters were far too dangerous to let slip through his mind. Another name had slipped into the fabric of his mind and he'd suffered for it since.
Diefenbaker looked up from laying on Meg's knee and gave a short whine, drawing Ben's attention back to the present. Ben gave the wolf-dog an imperceptible nod of reassurance. Dief raised one eyebrow momentarily before laying back down.
"The two of you just had an entire conversation, didn't you?" Meg questioned, having witnessed the exchange.
"We've come to understand each other in our own way over the years." Ben shrugged. How do you explain the kind of telepathy he and his companion shared? How could Ben explain anything about himself? Everyone thought him an enigma and they were absolutely correct. He was an enigma, even to himself. How could he have such keen instincts for survival, for human behavior? How could he see his father's ghost? For that matter, how could Sgt. Frobisher see Bob Fraser's ghost? None of it made sense. No one truly understood him, they accepted him, for the most part. Ben accepted this and contented himself with his position.
"What are you thinking about, Constable Fraser?" Meg's voice asked quietly. He looked at her, his face neutral and innocent.
"Nothing particular. Are you warm enough?" Ben moved to the fire to add a log.
"Constable, you are always thinking. You may have perfected your mask, which of itself is a tell," Meg chided. "You're too well masked."
Ben felt pinned, a butterfly on display. He stiffened, taking great care as he placed the log into the fireplace.
I've said too much, Meg realized. She'd put Fraser on the defense. "I'm sorry, Constable Fraser. I've been too forward."
"I suppose I've become too accustomed to my own council over the years." He glanced back at her, his face neutral except for his tongue crossing his lower lip.
Will we ever be able to have a normal conversation? Meg wondered silently. She'd talked to any number of men in her dating life. She'd had short, intense relationships, long-term and even long-distance ones. None of them had confused or annoyed her as much as this quasi-relationship with Constable Benton Fraser.
Maybe it's because he's forbidden fruit? Meg finished her second hotdog slowly, lost in thought. She had always dated her peers, never men who had other attachments or restrictions. No married or spoken-for men. None of her dates had been either significantly older or younger than herself. Meg had no desire to cause herself or anyone else trouble. Trouble tended to cause careers to stall. Henri Cloutier and his harassment had come close enough to derailing her goals.
Beside the Inspector, Ben sat with his thoughts as well. It doesn't matter how I feel about her. It's best to remain professionals. It's likely an inner-ear imbalance. An imbalance of some form anyway. Ben stifled a sigh as he stared at the flames licking and then laying, moving relentlessly as it consumed the large log Ben had added earlier.
"Are you finished?" Meg asked, her own paper plate and skewer in hand.
"Yes. Thank you." He handed her both his plate and skewer, paper napkins laid on top. She deposited their trash into a nearby trash can, making a mental note to tie up the trash the next morning.
"I have a package of Chips Ahoy in my desk. Would you like some?" Meg offered, trying to lighten the mood and make amends for her question.
"Yes. Thank you," Ben answered politely. "Would you care for a glass of milk?"
"Cookies and milk? That sounds good." Meg smiled at the quaint idea. Both Mounties rose, Meg taking Ben's pen light to her office while he took the lantern to the kitchen.
Cookies and milk, how very Fraser-like. I suppose that the milk needs to be used anyway with the electric off. Meg shook her head as she sat in her office chair and searched her desk drawers for the cookies. She shivered in the unheated office, missing the warmth of the fire in the sitting room.
I should look into purchasing a generator and a propane heater or two for just such occasions as this. Meg found her quarry and made her way back to the sitting room and its warmth. She divested herself down to her uniform pants, wool socks and thermal top. It felt good to get out of the confining tunic and paraphernalia.
Ben had poured them two tall glasses of milk and brought them in on a tray. Carefully, he set it down on the coffee table near the fire. After settling himself back against the couch, he handed Meg a glass. In exchange she gave him a handful of chocolate chip cookies. Meg set the package at their feet to warm by the fire. The pair sat in silence, staring at the flames. Meg couldn't have felt colder, though the temperature near the fire neared 21 degrees Celsius.
"Your apartment's water pipes didn't freeze and bust, did they?" Ben asked quietly.
Meg looked at him, truth in her eyes. "Yes, they did. I could have found a hotel room." She shrugged before looking down at her cookies. "I didn't want to face the storm alone in a strange place." They sat in silence for a moment, neither of them knowing how to proceed. It wasn't every day Meg felt this vulnerable. The few times she had as an adult, it had involved Constable Benton Fraser.
I could talk to guys better than this in grade seven! Meg scoffed inwardly.
"I'm glad you came." He left it at that.
"Thank you kindly." Ben saw the smile pulling at her lips as she picked cookie crumbs from her lap.
"I suppose you're accustomed to such weather, growing up and being stationed in the Yukon," Meg ventured. It seemed like a safe topic.
"Yes. I suppose I've seen more than my share." Whispers of the storm he'd endured with Victoria echoed. As if sensing the tone of his human's thoughts, Diefenbaker whined and nuzzled closer to him. Ben clutched the wolf-dog's fur for a moment then gave his old friend a few comforting strokes.
Meg saw the way Ben's hand fisted and then slowly loosened. The firelight lit his profile, showing the faraway cast of the man's gaze. He worried his lower lip a moment before looking at her. For once, Meg didn't automatically look away. She met his gaze and held it, wondering what caused the weariness and sadness she saw in those blue pools. Emotions that Meg usually tamped down and kept chained surfaced within her. His forsakenness resonated with the loneliness she felt. It all caught in her throat, bucking to erupt in a sob. A long, haunting moan announced a gust of wind that rattled the shingles of the consulate building. It shot straight to Meg's soul, as if her emotions had manifested the ancient keen.
Emboldened, Meg said, "It's the little things that a single woman misses; someone to play with her hair, someone to zip her dress and fasten her necklace. Someone who has chosen her over anyone else, no matter what.
"I can change my own flat tire and kill the spiders. But at the end of the day there's no one to lean on. There's no one to share the burdens of life or even of just the day." Meg took a bite of her cookie and washed it down with a drink of frosty cold milk.
Ben contemplated what to do. He stared into his milk for a moment. Between them Diefenbaker snored and kicked his paws in a dream.
"It's getting late. We should sort out our sleeping arrangements." Meg finished her cookies and polished off her milk. Both had lost their taste after she'd bared her soul.
"Men aren't immune to such things. Men also need to be needed, to have someone to protect and to treasure." His voice carried quietly in the bubble of light created by the fire.
Meg reached out gingerly and took Ben's hand. He looked at her, his brows raised.
"Shush," Meg said softly when he opened his mouth to speak. He squeezed her fingers in response.
After they'd sat in silence for a bit, holding hands Meg spoke again. "I'm glad I came too." She looked from their twined hands to his face to see a soft, lop-sided smile there. He again squeezed her hand gently.
"We really should get some sleep."
Meg nodded, not trusting herself to speak, not wanting to ruin the warm moment they'd just shared. Together, they gathered Ben's bedroll and spare blankets to lay in front of the fireplace.
"I should… I should, ah, I should get my sleeping bag." Ben began digging at his eyebrow, anxious for the first time all evening.
"Don't clam up now." Meg took his hand and pulled him toward the bedroll. She pulled him down to sit beside her. "We need this. We're both tired." Tired in so many ways, she added mentally.
Ben searched Meg's face, noting how she didn't shy away. Instead she looked at him hopefully, her brown eyes open and her lips relaxed.
"Okay," Ben relented. He laid aside his hiking boots and flannel shirt. Together, he and Meg laid down on the bedroll. Ben pulled the blankets over them. Meg inched backward until she'd snuggled her back against Ben's chest. At first he lay like a wooden Indian, not daring to move a single centimeter. After a stifled sigh from Meg, he relaxed, draping his arm around her waist.
Oh well, it's a start, Meg thought, a grin gracing her face. She really grinned when a moment later he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair.
"Good night, Meg," Ben wished her as the storm swirled around the consulate and the misplaced Canadians inside.
"Good night, Ben."
The End