Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/khristaz

Disclaimer: I lay claim to the kids. Otherwise, it all belongs to Alliance et al.

Author's Notes: Thanks to M-A for encouragement (as always!)

Story Notes: This is my explanation of just why, when all of Fraser's possessions got destroyed, he still managed to keep his father's journals.

Francesca Vecchio sank into the warm, scented water with a contented sigh. God, what a week! From the shock of her brother's sudden departure to the surprise of her new, blond, Polish sibling - whether he was an improvement or not remained to be seen, though she wasn't going to hold her breath - to the anticipation of seeing Fraser again after almost a month... Then, of course, there had been the fire.

She still wasn't sure which would have been worse - dying in a blazing inferno with no one but Tony to share her fate, or having Fraser find her with gunk all over her face, and toss her out a window. He'd treated the darned fish with more care!

And then, joy of joys, having Ma and Maria and the kids come back early from Florida to find the house all smoke damaged. Frankly, she wished they'd stayed away a bit longer, and not just because she wanted to get rid of her family, though the peace and quiet was a nice change. Sure, Ma and her sister got along about as well as, well, herself and Maria, but at least it would take her mother's mind off the bombshell her dear departed brother had dropped on them all a few weeks earlier.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the delicate fragrance of the bubble bath, only a slight smoky smell lingering in the air. They'd been lucky - poor Fraser's apartment had been completely destroyed, along with pretty much everything he owned in the world. She'd asked him about it and he'd put on a brave face, telling her he could live just as well at the Consulate, that he wasn't much into material possessions anyway, getting all polite and distant about it. He drove her nuts sometimes! She knew he had some personal stuff - pictures, and books, that he'd lost, and you'd think even the Perfect Mountie would be upset about that.

A light knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she felt a small surge of annoyance. The family knew that Frannie's bath time was sacrosanct, and to interrupt it was often to take your life in your hands.

"What?" she demanded. If anyone needed to use the bathroom, they could just hold it in a while longer.

"Aunt Frannie?" a small, shy voice called through the door. Francesca frowned - Gina, at six years, was the quiet one of her sister's brood, and not usually prone to bugging her aunt.

With a few muttered curses in Italian, she climbed out of the water, quickly drying herself off and slipping on her robe. She opened the door to find a pale, frightened face looking up at her.

"Aunt Frannie, I have to tell you something."

Frowning, Francesca led the child into her room and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her niece up onto her lap. Taking one trembling little hand in her own, she said gently, "Tell me, cara, what's the matter?"

Gina hitched a long breath, and started to speak. Frannie listened to the confession with surprise, then shock. And as she soothed her niece's worries, a plan was being hatched in the back of her mind.

"Constable Fraser? You have visitors."

Fraser looked up from the pile of forms, a little annoyed at the interruption, but intrigued by the twinkle in the younger Constable's eyes.

"Visitors, Turnbull?"

"Yes, sir. Two young ladies."

Fraser frowned. "Send them in."

Turnbull disappeared with a "Righty-ho!" and, moments later, Francesca Vecchio poked her head through the doorway.

"Hey, Fraser, you busy?"

He was tempted for a moment to tell her that yes, in fact, he did have quite a bit of work to catch up on; it wouldn't be far from the truth and, besides, he really wasn't up to the task of defending his honour today. He changed his mind, though, at the sight of Francesca's companion.

"No, not at all," he said, motioning them into the crowded space. "Good morning, Francesca." Glancing down, he added, "Good morning to you, too, Gina."

"Hi, uncle Benton," the girl said shyly, all but hiding behind her aunt. He looked to Frannie in surprise; he'd always felt a sort of kinship with the small, serious child, and she'd never seemed uncomfortable with him before - quite the contrary, actually.

Frannie gave him a wry smile. "We have something to tell you, Fraser."

"Oh?" He had no earthly idea what little Gina could possibly be afraid to tell him. He looked from one Vecchio to the other, expectantly.

"I'm really sorry," Gina began, her voice quivering. "We didn't know he was going to do it, honest!"

"I'm sure you didn't," he assured her, puzzled. He looked to Frannie for an explanation. Her eyes twinkling, she hefted the heavy cloth bag she'd been holding.

"These belong to you, Frase," she explained, holding the bag out to him. He took it, glanced curiously into it, and his eyes widened in astonishment. He reached into the sack, drawing out one of the small black notebooks. Opening it, he read a few words of his father's journal, words he never thought he'd get to read again.

"How in the world?"

"Leo," Frannie answered archly.

"Ah." Leo was sixteen, the older brother of Gina's best friend Anna; he was an arrogant bully, and definitely a bad influence on the younger children.

Frannie continued. "He broke into your old place on a dare, and grabbed the journals off your book shelf. I don't know what he was planning on doing with them, but Anna and Gina managed to sneak them over to our place instead. She's been worried about this for weeks."

At this, Gina spoke up indignantly. "Leo was bad. He took your books. That's stealing!" Then she looked away, her eyes filling with tears. "And I stole them, too. That makes me bad, like Leo."

"No, Gina!" Fraser exclamed, kneeling down to face her. "You tried to do the right thing."

She sniffed doubtfully. "Are you mad at me?"

He gave her his most understanding smile. "Of course I'm not mad, Gina. I've got the journals back, that's the important thing. No harm done."

Gina brightened at once, springing towards him and throwing her arms around his neck. "Thanks, uncle Benton!"

Startled by the sudden hug, he returned it awkwardly. Raising his head, he noted Francesca's sweet smile. "Thank you," he mouthed.

"Any time, Fraser," she returned with a sly wink, and he suppressed a sigh. The feminine wiles of one Vecchio woman were bad enough; even he wasn't Mountie enough to withstand a double-sided assault. Checking his watch, he decided his work could wait a while longer ... long enough for him to take a couple of ladies out to lunch.

The end.

End Journal-istic Integrity by Sylvie Grenon: khristaz@yahoo.com

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