Tuesday Afternoon ….

Ben stood beneath a gloomy sky wondering if the weather forecast for rain would prove correct. He stared at the church down the street opposite him, watching people come and go, hardly giving the old building a second thought or look.

The sound of the consulate door didn't phase the Mountie, it opened and closed a dozen times a day. Meg's heels thumping quickly on the cement did however penetrate his keen ears. He hoped she'd hurry past him, avoiding him as he was her. Ben was surprised when Thatcher stopped, peering up at him, her dark eyes squinting and her lips in a tight line.

"How dare you!" She hissed at him, her arms crossed over her chest. She wore the cream suit that gave her an ethereal look when the sun back lit her figure. Ben watched the breeze from the cars stir her dark locks. "I can't believe you went behind my back to send in this transfer." She was so angry she shook. "Do you want away from me so badly that you would transfer hundreds of kilometers away? How is that professional?" So far her voice had been low and even, her eyes sparkling with anger. "Damn it, I'm not asking you to sweep me off my feet like some silly, fairytale princess. I never expected you to propose marriage." Meg waved a copy of the transfer papers at him, her other fist clenched. "I found this this morning, I've been working all day to undo this. I should let you go, I should let you spend the rest of your career standing at a border crossing booth freezing your ass off, asking people the nature of their visit to Canada." Margaret paused, pacing in front of Fraser for a moment. "I knew that if I brought this up to you in my office you'd talk your way out of it. It's a low blow to tell you this on sentry duty but I don't care, I love you, Benton Fraser and you aren't going anywhere." She stood directly in front of him, their gazes locked, her voice soft, barely audible to anyone but Fraser. "You've broken the rules before for a good cause, that's why you're here in Chicago. I believe that you and I are another good cause. I need a friend more than I need a hero. I can maintain my professionalism and integrity if you can. Are you up to the challenge?" Ben never moved, didn't blink. For a moment Meg thought he'd stand there until the end of is sentry shift without answering. She took his silence as a yes. "Good." She nodded resolutely, her chin held high and posture straight and confident.

"I sent Turnbull after coffee, you have to get my dry cleaning, you can leave half an hour before the end of your shift. I'll be in my office working on next week's duty roster." Meg turned on her heel and walked back to the consulate.

"Dry cleaning, professionalism, I don't see the correlation but I'm up to the challenge if she is." Ben thought to himself, fighting off a smile of his own.

As ordered, Fraser picked up Inspector Thatcher's dry cleaning half. He left half an hour before the end of his shift. She sat with her hear pressed against the phone when he tapped on her open door. Margaret nodded and beckoned him in with her free hand. She pointed toward a chair opposite her desk for him.

"Yes, Sir, I will, I understand. No need to …" With gritted teeth, she hung up the phone, glaring at the infernal machine.

"It's your fault." Margaret pointed from the phone to Fraser.

"How so, Sir?" Ben asked, watching her expressionlessly.

"You know very well how so, Fraser." She growled at him, one brow lifted.

"Yes, I think I do." He couldn't hide his amusement any longer. The Mountie hadn't expected her to pitch a hissy fit and pull so many strings to keep him in Chicago. The fact that she did pleased him to no end. He wouldn't lose her so easily because this time she was holding on in return.

"I could strangle you sometimes you are so frustrating, you know that right?" She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear." Ben wet his bottom lip slowly, Meg's eyes glued to the pale pink appendage.

"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you." She leaned forward, the corner of her lips pulling, begging to be allowed to smile.

"Yes, I am." Ben leaned forward too.

"I meant it when I said I need a friend more than a hero, Ben." Meg's face lost it's coy expression. She felt the old weight of the world returning to her shoulders.

"I'd be honored to have you as a friend, Margaret." Ben met her gaze, concern in his blue eyes.

"I don't know how much I'll be able to give, I can't ..."

Ben stood up and came around the desk to sit on the corner. He offered her his hand and hesitantly, Meg laid her hand in his palm.

"I'll ask nothing more than you can give if you'll do the same courtesy for me." His thumb flicked across the inside of her wrist, sending chills up her arm and through her body.

"I can do that." Meg's smile spread across her face, lighting it up and making her look more beautiful than Ben had ever seen her.

"Then we have an agreement." Ben nodded resolutely, his gaze never leaving the ocean like depths of Margaret's dark eyes. He knew that they may never be more than the best of friends but that was enough for him if it was enough for her. Margaret was finally happy and whole, that's what had mattered to Ben all along. He'd been prepared to let her go if that had been the best thing for her. For the time being, he wasn't going anywhere though.

A kind heart is a fountain of gladness, making everything in its vicinity to freshen into smiles.

~ Washington Irving

The End