Rating: NC-17
Genre: Gen
Category: AU Romance
Pairings: FraserThatcher  FrannieTurnbull
Spoilers: A bunch for GFTS.
Teaser: Frannie makes a decision.

Originally posted on RedSuitsYou@egroups.com, December 2000.
 

Standard Disclaimer: due South and it's characters belong to Alliance. I just use them for fun. Hopefully they will return to their world unharmed and ready for other people to play with them.

    Looking across the bullpen, Francesca bit her lip as her hands nervously twisted the small wooden figure that Fraser had carved for her. She watched Fraser as he stood by himself in a corner of the room. His expression was sad, his eyes downcast as he stared at the silver framed photo in his hands.
    She watched as he set the picture down and picked up the sword that Thatcher had given him as his Christmas gift. She knew what it meant and she was sure that Fraser knew what it represented. Dewey was the only one ignorant enough to verbally point it out.
    Searching the room she found Thatcher. Just like Fraser, she was standing by herself, only she stared into a cup of punch and not at a sword. Just like Fraser, she wore the same sad expression. One of defeat. One of abject loneliness.
    Her palms began to sweat and tears came to her eyes. She knew what she had to do, even if it meant giving up her own dreams. She knew it was right, but it still didn't stop her heart from breaking.
    Setting the wooden figure of David on her desk, Francesca walked over to Thatcher and took the cup of punch from her hands. "Miss Vecchio, what is the meaning of this?" Closing her eyes briefly, Francesca resisted the urge to throw the cup of red liquid in Thatcher's face and leave the room. The woman had no idea what she was giving up for her.
    "Oh just shut up and come with me." Grabbing Thatcher by the arm, she pulled her over to where Fraser stood. He looked up in surprise as Francesca basically pushed Thatcher toward him. "I'm tired of watchin you two dance around each other like this." Grabbing the sword from Fraser's hands she pointed it at them.
    "You gave this to him for one reason and 'you' know why she gave it to you." "Francesca, I don't..." "Shut up Frase!" She took a deep breath, trying not to cry. "You both need to quit actin so stupid and say it. You want him and you want her." "Miss Vecchio, you don't know..." Jabbing the sword at Thatcher, she yelled. "Shut up! I don't want to hear it!"
    Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at them. It was unusual to say the least, seeing Francesca pointing a sword at the two Mounties, but knowing her obsession for the man, they weren't surprised. Ray couldn't believe what he was seeing and hurried over to the threesome.
    "Frannie, ya don't wasn't ta do this. Fraser ain't worth killin someone." Rolling her eyes, Francesca ignored him. Lowering her voice, she practically spat the words at them. "You're both idiots if you don't admit it. You've been standin here mopin by yourselves when you don't have to be alone. If you can't say I love you, then you're both fools."
    Dropping the sword on the desk next to them, she turned and stalked out of the bullpen, feeling the stares of everyone following her. What she didn't see was a certain Mountie dressed in a Santa suit following her down the hall. Coming to a deserted section of the building, she leaned against the wall, the tears that she held back now ran down her cheeks. *I am so stupid!*
    She jumped as she felt a hand touch her shoulder. "What!" "Oh...I'm sorry...I didn't mean to frighten you, Miss Vecchio." Wiping a hand over her tear streaked face, she looked down at the floor, trying to ignore Turnbull's gaze. "That was the most heroic thing I have ever seen." Looking back up, she frowned.
    "No, that was the dumbest thing you ever saw." Shaking his head no, he took a step closer to her. "No...what you did is what Christmas is all about Miss Vecchio." "Frannie." "Pardon me?" "Call me, Frannie." Turnbull's face lit up in a bright smile. "Okay...Frannie." He tucked his head down shyly before looking back up, his expression serious once more.
    "What you did was amazing. You gave instead of taking. Maybe you feel as though you've lost something special, but in the process you have probably saved two people from being alone forever." Twisting the toy ray gun in his hands, Turnbull smiled. "You and I both know they would never brooch the subject face to face. You've made them confront it. I think it will be the start of something wonderful between the two of them."
    Lowering her face, she sniffed. "Yeah...it's wonderful." Looking back up, the tears began to flow again. "When does wonderful start for me, huh? I've been waitin my whole life for someone like him to notice me, but they never do. I'm never good enough, I'm never pretty enough." "Oh no! You're beautiful Frannie!" She stared back at him, clearly shocked by his words. He looked like he was about to die of embarrassment, his face flamed red, just like Fraser's when he was mortified.
    "You think I'm beautiful?" Pulling the Santa hat off his head, Turnbull tried to calm down. He was making an ass of himself again, but what the hell. If Francesca could take the chance to do something that she was afraid of, then so could he. "Yes...I thought so the first time I saw you." To his surprise, she reached up and placed a light kiss on his cheek, her voice a whisper. "Thank you." Feeling rather bold, he leaned down and kissed her back.
    They stood in the hall not knowing what to do next. Turnbull broke the silence. "Would you care for a cup of punch and some cookies?" Holding his arm out to her, he smiled shyly. The sadness that she felt was still there, but it wasn't as heavy. What she had done was for the best. Fraser and Thatcher clearly were enamored with one another and as long as they felt that way, she would have never had a chance with the Mountie. Now the tall blonde haired Mountie that she looped arms with...that was another story.
 
 
 

    Ray couldn't believe what he had witnessed. He knew how in love Francesca was with Fraser. He knew how much this selfless act had hurt her. The frown that he wore curled into a small smile as he watched a certain Santa follow Francesca down the hall. He also knew that Turnbull had a huge crush on her. Things would be okay. She wouldn't have to suffer through a long period of depression, even if she didn't know it. Turnbull would make sure she didn't. It would be up to him to make sure Francesca's act of love wasn't for nothing.
    Replacing his smile with a serious expression, Ray turned back to the two shocked Mounties. Fraser stood there like a moose caught in the headlights of a four by four, his face beet red. Thatcher looked like she was about to pass out, her skin had paled to a sickly white. *Put 'em together and ya get a candy cane.*
    Motioning over his shoulder, Ray gave them a curious look. "So...what was that all about?" He knew what it was about and he knew that they knew that he knew. Getting them to admit it was another thing. Fraser cracked his neck and glanced quickly at Thatcher, who nervously licked her lower lip. They both looked around the room, finding everyone staring back at them. Ray knew he'd never get them to pick up on what Frannie gave them with an audience.
    Raising his voice, he glared at everyone. "Okay everybody, the ambulance came and took the body to the morgue. Accident's over!" Most of the people turned away, only Dewey stood firm, staring intently at them like he was witnessing a hold up.
    "Hey Dewey, about face!" "Up yours Ray!" Narrowing his eyes, he nodded at Fraser and Thatcher. "Excuse me." Quickly turning, he strode over to Dewey and shoved him. "Eyes down fruitcake." "Kiss off...Stanley. You're not the boss, I can look at em all I want." A hand clamped down on his shoulder and Dewey looked behind him to find Welsh attached to said hand.
    "I 'am' the boss. Give them some privacy." Ray nodded his gratitude to Welsh, happy to see Dewey turn and walk out of the bullpen. Welsh gave him a brief smile and then he too walked away. Going back to Fraser and Thatcher, Ray grinned.
    "Let's cut to the chase guys. Frannie's right. You two more than like each other and it's about time you did somethin about it." Thatcher frowned at him. "Really detective, you have no idea..." Cutting her off, he smiled as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "Yeah, really Ice Queen..." "Ray!" Fraser stepped toward Ray and lowered his voice. "You shouldn't..." "Shut up Fraze." Both Fraser and Thatcher stared at him. He could tell that they both wanted to smack him, but they would never do it.
    "You and Thatcher here need ta go and stand under the mistletoe for a few hours, then maybe you'd be able to admit how you feel about each other." Thatcher's eyes darkened. "You need to keep your ideas to yourself." "Hey, it wasn't my idea, it was Frannie's and she knows what she's talkin about." Staring intently at Fraser he lowered his voice. "You have ta know how much Frannie cares about you. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't think it was true."
    "Ray..." "Don't Ray me. She gave up everything she wants for you two to move on with each other. You think she did that just for the hell of it?" Both Fraser and Thatcher remained silent. Waving a hand at them, he frowned. "Go ahead then, see if I care if you two waste your time. If ya wanna be alone, that's fine with me." Turning, he walked over to the punch bowl, hoping that Fraser and Thatcher would take a chance and listen to Frannie. Walking to his desk, he sat down and tried to pretend he wasn't watching them.

    Fraser watched Ray walk away and then he peeked at Thatcher. She quickly tucked her head down. When she finally looked up, she wore an embarrassed expression. "You don't have to keep the sword...I can take it back and get you something more appropriate." Nervously clenching his hands into fists, Fraser tried his best to not stutter. "I really do like...I don't want you to take it back." She looked a bit surprised and quickly covered it.
    "You don't?" "No...I'm pleased that you thought of me...that you would...oh dear." Giving Fraser a weak smile, she nodded her head. "Good. I'm glad you liked it." They both stood again, feeling an awkwardness between them that occurred on only a few select occasion. Thatcher recognized what she was feeling and knew that Francesca and Ray were right, she just didn't like being pushed at Fraser. It was as if he had no choice in the matter. What if he didn't feel that way about her?
    "Well...I have to go...I'll see you tomorrow...no, tomorrow is Christmas...I mean I'll see you...later." Giving him a sad smile, Thatcher turned from Fraser and walked away as quickly as her feet would take her. One part of her wished that Fraser would follow her, another part thanked God that he didn't. When she exited the building, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to block out the cold. Jogging down the street, she hailed a taxi. As she road back to the consulate, she shivered. The coldness would always be with her no matter what she did.

    Fraser stood rooted to the floor like his feet were nailed down. He wanted to run after Thatcher. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, turn her around and kiss her under the mistletoe like Ray said he should. He couldn't do it though. She hadn't admitted how she felt and it wouldn't be appropriate for him to approach her first. He felt leaden and heavy. This wasn't how he had envisioned Christmas this year.
    Ray wasn't with him, Stan was. Thatcher had never professed her love for him. Taking a deep breath, he winced as his ribs flared in pain. As he grimaced another pain shot through his jaw. He also never pictured being almost beaten to death before the holidays. What had gone wrong? Why was his life this way?
    Picking the sword and picture up, he walked over to Ray. "I'll see you tomorrow." Ray looked up at him, he could see the disappoint in his eyes. "You goin to Ma's?" A quick jolt of fear ran through him. How could he eat Christmas dinner with the Vecchio's if Francesca felt the way she did? He had hurt her without even meaning to do so. "I don't think that would be a wise decision." Turning, he walked away from Ray, who called out to him. "You better show up or Ma'll kill ya!"
 
 
 

    Stepping into the slushy snow by the curb, Fraser began to walk. He didn't want to call a cab, he needed to feel the cold. He needed to feel the snow against his skin as it floated to the ground. Before it turned from pristine white into the gray slushy mess that was beneath his feet. His soul was once pure and white like the snow.
    After all he had been through, he could feel it. He was empty and gray like the slush. He had thought that he could recover quickly from the deep depression that he had been in, but even knowing that everyone felt that he was right in standing up to Warfield, he knew that they still didn't accept him. He would always be an outsider. If it weren't for Diefenbaker...dear lord.
    Stopping, Fraser turned and looked down the street at the precinct building. In his haste to leave, he had completely forgotten about Diefenbaker. He stood rooted to the spot, wanting to go back and get the only being that had ever stood by him through everything in his life. The problem was he didn't feel like walking back into a room full of happy people celebrating the holiday season. What did he really have to be joyful for?
    He was alive, granted that was something he could be thankful for, but joyful? No. He would go back to the consulate to a small room to lay on a cot. There wouldn't be anyone to share the Christmas spirit with and in the morning what would he have? Again nothing. He couldn't face Francesca tomorrow. The idea of going the Vecchio home was completely out of the question. Besides...they weren't really his family.
    Turning away, he began to walk again, reasoning that Ray would take care of Diefenbaker. For some reason everyone loved the bundle of fur, even if they did complain about his constant donut stealing. Looking at the twinkling lights on the trees and in the shop windows, he wished that someone would love him. His heart constricted. Thatcher could love him, but she didn't. Francesca did love him, but he didn't see her in that way. She wasn't suited to his way of life. She wanted more than he could give her. One day he would return to Canada and he knew Francesca would never leave her family.
    He walked for what seemed like forever even if it was just his usual trip from the precinct to the consulate. As he neared the building, he heard a noise in an ally he had passed. Taking a step back, he peered into the darkness. Normally he would have walked into the darkened space without a second thought, but his recent experience with the Warfield goons in an alley made him think twice. He would never be that foolish again.
    Fraser spotted him. Or was it a her? Huddle on the ground was a dark pile of cloth, pulling a large piece of cardboard over their back. Worn out boots peeked their way out of stained, ragged jeans. The hands that held onto the cardboard wore mismatched gloves that had more holes than material. He had nothing to fear. This was a street person. When the bundle of rags began to softly hum a Christmas tune, he felt shame. This was someone who had less than he did and yet they still felt the joy of Christmas in their soul.
    Turning away from the alley, he made his way toward the consulate, his pace hurried. Once in the building he practically jogged to his small office. Dropping the sword on the cot, he rummaged about, pulling a warm sweater, one of his better winter coats, socks, gloves and a heavy wool blanket out of the closet. Rushing out of the room and down the hall, he placed the articles down. He made some sandwiches, hot soup and he cut a large piece of pumpkin pie. Placing the soup in a thermos and the food in a paper bag, he grabbed everything and hurried down the hall and out the building.
    Slowly approaching the alley, he peered inside. The figure was still there and they were humming the same Christmas tune. Clearing his throat, he walked into the dark, narrow space and approached him...or her. "Pardon me." The huddle mass of rags started, throwing the cardboard covering off, it rose to it's feet and backed up against the wall. "What? I'm not doing anything! I'm not hurting anyone by being here!"
    The voice was strong, but tinged with fear. Fraser knew how many of the homeless people were treated in the city. Stray dogs got better treatment sometimes. "I'm sorry to have startled you. Have you tried to check into one of the  shelters?" He could now see the persons face. It was that of an old man, his skin wrinkled, but his face was clean. His clothes may have been ragged, but they weren't coated in dirt as he had first thought. Taking a deep breath, Fraser noticed for the first time that the man didn't reek of body odor or liquor.
    The man spoke, his voice filled with anger this time. "I don't need charity and I don't want to go to a shelter. The last time I went to one of those places, someone stole my boots!" "I'm sorry." Clearing his throat, Fraser tried to think of a way to give the things he brought with him to the man without making it seem as though he were being charitable. It only took a second to think of what he could say because it was the truth.
    Cautiously holding the bag, the boots and clothing out to the man, Fraser spoke softly. "What I'm offering you isn't charity, it's survival. Where I'm from if someone is in need of food, shelter or clothing, your neighbor or even a complete stranger would supply it with the understanding that some day in the future, you would return the favor to them...or to someone else in need." "I'm not your neighbor and I don't want your pity. I do well enough on my own."
    Fraser sighed. He had expected this reaction. Very few of the street people he had dealt with in the past were willing to accept anything. They were either too stubborn or too filled with pride to accept his help. They didn't see themselves as pathetic beings in need of help or charity. They were self-sufficient and wanted to remain that way, even if others didn't think of them in that fashion.
    Fraser tried another approach, hoping that this would work. Judging by the man's clothing and the way the weather had been lately, there would be a chance that he may not last the harsh Chicago winter without these simple necessities. Looking the man straight in the eyes, he decided to go with the idea of Christmas and what it stood for. If this man could still be humming Christmas carols, then at one point in his life this was a very special time to him.
    "Yes, we are neighbors." He nodded in the direction of the consulate. "I work at the Canadian consulate and at this present time, it is also my home. This alley is your home for the evening. If you can't accept these things from me for personal reasons, I can understand that, but I would like for you to take them in the spirit of Christmas. It's a time to give, not receive. I would like to give you these things, in the hope that maybe some day you could return the favor of giving to someone else." He held the items out, waiting to see what the man would do.
    "Why are you doing this? You don't know me from Adam." Fraser briefly looked down at the ground before speaking. "Because I have been feeling sorry for myself. My life hasn't been...it isn't what I want and when I came by here and saw you...you were humming a Christmas carol. You still keep the spirit of Christmas alive in you while I have let it die. If you accept these things from me, then in some way...maybe I could still feel...I wish..." Letting out a puff of breath, he shrugged his shoulders. What could he say. 'If I gave these things to you I would feel better?'
    "You know, you're a strange one. Most people would have kept walking. Most people don't want to look at people like me." Taking a step forward, the man held out his hand. "My name is John Foster." Feeling a flush of embarrassment on his face, Fraser shifted the items in his hands so that he could grasp the other man's outstretched hand. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to be rude. My name is Ben...Ben Fraser."
    The hand shake between them was quick and then John took the things from Fraser. "Are you sure about this?" "Yes. Would you care to come into the consulate and change?" "No thank you. I can do it here." Setting everything on top of the piece of cardboard, John began to change. Removing his coat, he pulled the warm sweater over a worn out flannel shirt, running a hand down the front. "Nice. I always liked wool. It's better than the synthetic stuff."
    Taking another deep breath, Fraser decided to try one more thing. "I know you said you didn't care for the shelters, but Father Maloney at St. Catherine's takes people in for the evening. You could try there." "No, I can find my own place to sleep." Before turning away from Fraser, he smiled. "Merry Christmas, Ben." Smiling back, Fraser returned the greeting. "Merry Christmas, John."
 
 
 

    As he walked back to the consulate, Fraser felt better than he had when he left the precinct, but his heart was still heavy. What he had done was small. He knew that giving was the point of Christmas, but for once in his life he would have liked to have received something more than a wrapped gift. He wanted love and that was something money couldn't buy. He smirked at the response that he knew Ray would have given him. 'Money can't buy ya love Fraze, but it sure does make things easier to do while you're lookin for it.
    As he entered the consulate, he walked down the empty hall. It wasn't cold, but it was dark and dreary. The idea of going into his office and spending the night staring at the ceiling didn't appeal to him. Going into his office, he grabbed his pillow and blanket from the cot. Before he left the room, he picked up the sword. Walking back down the hall and up the stairs, he entered a large room.
    Setting everything on the floor, he walked to a switch on the wall and turned it on. The room was flooded with color and light. A huge pine tree stood in the corner, decorated with tinsel, lights and colored glass ornaments. He hadn't been there to help decorate the tree. Turnbull and some of the other staff had done it. He had been disappointed when he had come back and found it already done.
    Walking to the fireplace, he set about checking the flue, stacking the wood and kindling. Pulling a match out, he struck it, lighting the kindling. As the flames grew, he sat back on his heels, staring into the fire, remembering the times his mother had done the same thing for him every Christmas. A large fire where popcorn would be popped and eaten. A place to sit and hear her read the 'Twas the Night Before Christmas'. She always held him in her lap, her arms wrapped around him. He never knew what it was like to not sit with her, she never got the chance to watch him grow big enough to not sit with her like that.
    Pulling the blanket over, he sat down. He felt empty. He was alone and feeling sorry for himself, something he was doing too much of lately. No matter what he thought of, the same face came back to him. Thatcher looking at him with that blank look. Or the irritated expression that he seemed to cause. Once time he thought he had seen love in her eyes, but when he didn't see it again...he must have been mistaken.
    Why would she love someone like him? What could he ever offer her that would make her want to be with him? He lived in the consulate, he had been banished from his own land...he was a failure, not someone you would build a life with. Taking the photo out of his coat pocket, he ran a finger over the image of his mother.
    What would his life had been like if she had lived? Would things be better than they were today? Would he even be here in Chicago? A noise at the door startled him. Dropping the photo, he grabbed the sword and in one smooth motion, he stood. He had distinctly remembered locking the large wooden doors as he came in the building. Even on Christmas Eve, no place was safe from intruders. As the door slowly opened, he tensed, preparing to attack whoever it was.
 
    The door opened and a figure walked into the room. The arm that was poised to strike out with the sword now dropped. "Inspector?" Fraser was confused. It was Christmas Eve. Why would Thatcher be at the consulate at this late hour instead of celebrating the holiday with friends? As she walked toward him, he held his breath. Did he offend or embarrass her so badly at the precinct that she had waited all this time to finally let him know or did she come here...because she did care for him?
 
    Thatcher resisted the urge to jump back ad scream as she entered the room. She had expected to find Fraser, but not the hostile looking figure holding the sword. His entire body language was tight. She recognized his stance as an attack mode.
    As her heart slowed down from it's racing beat, she glanced around the room. The fireplace crackled and popped, sending a warm glow throughout the room, the Christmas tree sparkled and shimmered and Fraser stood there amidst it all, holding the sword. He had relaxed a bit, but now his expression changed. The emotions briefly flickered across his features, confusion, pain and...longing? They quickly disappeared to be replaced by his patented Mountie mask.
    She hadn't imagined it. He did care for her. She hadn't been wrong in giving the sword to him. Moving slowly toward Fraser, she reached out and gently took the sword from his hand and set it on the floor by their feet. Moving closer, she stood only inches from him, looking up into his eyes. The confusion was back again. As she brought a hand up and smoothed it down his cheek, a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. The eyes that were guarded now held a tinge of hope in them.
    Running her hand behind his head, she drew him down, placing a light kiss on his lips. Pulling back slightly, she whispered. "Frannie's right." Moving back, she kissed him again, this time wrapping her arms around him. She panicked until Fraser's arms went around her waist and pulled her to him, the kiss being returned with more passion than she had expected. With a thrill, she recognized it. This kiss was going to be like the one that she told him to forget about.
    She felt herself being lowered to the floor in front of the fire, a soft blanket lay over the carpet, cushioning her as they continued the kiss. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. When they finally broke apart, Thatcher was gasping for air, her chest heaved with emotion. Fraser held her so tightly, that she could feel his heart beat against her hand.
    Staring into his eyes, she smiled as she recognized something hard pressed against her thigh. For some reason she had expected having to coach him or lead him into any type of sexual activity. He was always the perfect gentleman, so she didn't expect him to be so easily aroused. To find that he wanted her this badly was a pleasant surprise.
    Rocking her hips back and forth, she leaned down and kissed him again, letting her hand trail down to his hip. Reaching between them, she pressed her hand against the hardened bulge. He broke the kiss to stare back at her. His breathing was heavy, his expression wary. "Are you sure?" Gently squeezing him, she smiled.
    "if I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here." They continued to kiss and fondle one another, neither were in a hurry. To finally admit to each other that there was more than a working relationship between them was a relief. Taking their time they savored each touch. They experienced a number of firsts with each other, memorizing each thing they did.
    Running hands under clothing, fingers undid buttons and buckles. Cloth slid to the floor in careless piles, shoes and boots were tossed haphazardly about. By the time they had gotten down to their underwear, Thatcher was in a sexual haze. This wasn't about fucking, this was love. Each kiss and touch was filled with tenderness and unspoken feelings.
    Rolling her over, Fraser pressed his weight down, smiling as he rested between her legs, gently moving against her. Gazing down at her face, he could feel a lightness in his soul. The firelight cast a golden glow on her skin and a new sparkle in her eyes. The hands that ran down his back and pulled him tighter against her were soft and gentle. Loving. No nails scratched down his back, leaving red angry trails.
    Leaning down, he captured her mouth in a kiss, suckling her tongue. Moving to her neck, he inhaled her sweet fragrance. Nuzzling his lips against her skin, he smiled as Thatcher let out a soft moan. Her hips rose up against him, causing him to catch his breath. The definition of foreplay came to him and he quickly pushed it aside. This wasn't play. This was the thing that he had been wanting his entire life. This was love and she was in his embrace at last.
    Sliding his hands down, Fraser sat back and removed Thatcher's underwear, letting his eyes rest on the soft brown thatch of curls. Raising his eyes, he watched as she slowly sat up and removed her bra. He found that he had been holding his breath. Never had he pictured them being together like this. She was fully naked, stunningly beautiful and she would be his.
    She leaned forward and hooked a finger in his boxers, tugging a them. Slowly standing, never letting his gaze leave hers, he pulled them down, letting them drop to the floor, he stepped out of them. He stood for a moment, taking in the sight of her.
    The firelight played over her body, her breasts rising and falling in anticipation. He wanted nothing more than to make this night last forever. A small shiver ran down his spine. What if this were a dream? What if he awoke on Christmas morning, only to find the embers in the fire dying and Thatcher not by his side?
    "Ben...come here." She reached a hand up to him and he took it without thinking. As he lay above her, he decided that if this were a dream, he would take what comfort it gave him. To get the chance to love her...even if it wasn't real...it would be worth the pain in his heart the morning that he awoke.
    They kissed again as he rested between her legs once more. The throb of his own need pushing against her moist warmth. Pulling back, he stared into her eyes as she opened her legs further, inviting him to join with her. Positioning himself, he gently pushed into her, moving so slowly so that he could savor the feel of her. Hot and tight, moist yet soft as silk. Sliding deeply in, he rested briefly, rocking his hips against her as he claimed her mouth in another kiss.
    As he slid back, he moved quickly in, keeping his thrusts shallow, not wanting to take the chance of leaving her warmth. As she gasped and whispered his name, he became bolder, riding her, abandoning all control. Smooth deep thrusts caused him to tighten. Pushing back, he lay above her, watching the play of emotions on her face. He loved her so much. He needed her more than he thought possible.
    He came before her, not able to control his own need. She was unbelievably perfect to him, soft and loving where Victor...no. He would never compare Thatcher to that woman. There was no comparison between an angel and Satan's spawn.
    As Thatcher finally joined him, he sighed in pleasure. The feel of her tightening and contracting around his length was another joy. Another piece to be placed in his heart and remembered. The sound of her voice as she softly called his name. The movement of her head against the blanket. Everything about this night he would remember forever. Even if it were a dream.
    They spooned their bodies together, staring into the dancing flames, hands caressing and joining, murmurs of love and hope came from their lips. As the fire faded, so did they and sleep soon claimed them.
 
 
 

    As he awoke, Fraser tried to stay as still as possible. He watched the dying embers in the fire, their soft glow giving off virtually no heat, but he was still warm. More importantly, it wasn't a dream. Snuggled against him was the nude figure of Thatcher. Her hair tousled, lips parted slightly, she slept against him, her hands still wrapped with his.
    He could feel the tears stinging his eyes as he looked at the woman laying in the crook of his arm. He finally got what he had wished for every Christmas. Love. Something as simple as love was so elusive and it had eluded him worse than any criminal he had ever tracked. To finally find it was a joyous occasion. He wanted to jump to his feet, fling open the windows and yell out to the world that he finally found love. Instead he fidgeted. The need to urinate won over the need to proclaim what he felt.
    Kissing her softly, he extracted himself. Standing, he looked down at her form as she curled into a ball, goose bumps appearing on her skin. Taking the blanket, he flipped the corner that he had lain on, over her body. Padding his way quietly across the room, he used the bathroom and came back. A smile spread over his face as the first rays of the morning sun filtered into the room. It was Christmas morning. The Vecchio children would be up and about, talking in soft whispers amongst themselves, wondering when the adults would wake up so they could go down and see what Santa had brought them.
     Walking to the window, he stood and looked out, not caring that he was nude. No one would be near the consulate at this hour. Placing a hand on the cool glass, his smile grew bigger. There was more snow on the ground covering all traces of human existence. Pristine and white, like it was back home. Like his soul was once again. He heard the stirrings of Thatcher as she woke. Turning to look at her, his smile faded. She wasn't looking at him with the love that he had thought he had gained. Instead, she looked mortified.

    Thatcher slowly woke, feeling herself covered with a blanket. Opening her eyes, she stared at the last glowing embers of the fire that she had made love in front of with Fraser. Hugging herself, she smiled. If she hadn't come to the consulate after she had left the precinct, she would have never known just how much Fraser cared for her. He loved her. When he had whispered those words to her as they made love, she had felt the missing piece of her soul fall into place. She felt whole for the first time in her life.
    Turning away from the fireplace, her smile widened as she saw Fraser standing at the window, framed in the soft light of the morning sun. He was so beautiful. Then she saw them. The bruises, the raw marks of hate that were scattered across his pale skin. Deep colors of purple, green and black. Angry red marks were there too.
    The horror within in her grew as she thought of the pain he had gone through, both physical and mental. No one had stood by him. No one had believed in him. He had to almost die before anyone opened their eyes and saw what he saw. She was mortified to think that she may have caused him even more pain last night. The injuries were fresh. He had to have been in massive pain when they had joined last night.
    As he turned toward her, she saw the same marks on his chest and stomach. A few stray ones cut across his thighs. She saw him hesitate, his expression a mixture of fear and confusion. Rising to her feet, she let the blanket drop to the floor as she walked over to where he stood. Reaching out, she touched a bruise on his chest. Her voice warbled as she fought to control the anger and tears. "I'm so sorry Ben. I'm so sorry..." Her fingertips fluttered over each mark before she leaned forward and kissed a bruise on his collarbone.
 
    Fraser stood still, as motionless as a statue in the park, as Thatcher walked across the room and stood before him. The dread that had made it hard to breath vanished as she placed her hand on him. Her words of apology and the pain that he could see on her face made him want to cry as well. She wasn't going to say that last night was a mistake, instead she was trying to apologize for not believing in him. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her, overjoyed to know that she was still his.
 
 

 
    Ray ran out of his apartment, carrying a large bag of gifts. Opening the trunk, he set them down, grabbing a scraper. Opening the GTO's driver side door, he dropped in the seat and started the car before standing and closing the door. As the car warmed up, he cleaned the fresh snow off the windows. He found himself whistling a Christmas tune. For some reason he woke up feeling happy. He was going to be spending the day with the Vecchio's. Even if he didn't have Stella, he had somehow managed to still have a family. Looking up at the sky, he grinned. "Thanks."
    After cleaning the GTO off, he jumped back in and began the short drive to the place that he knew would be full of laughter and happiness. As he stopped at a red light, he twisted his hands on the steering wheel. All wasn't right with the world. Fraser had sounded so dejected last night. He had even said he wouldn't be going to the Vecchio's to spend Christmas with them.
    "Bullshit." He whispered it, feeling the anger begin to course through him. They were Fraser's family as well. There was no way in hell he'd let Fraser waste his Christmas day pouting at the consulate. Today was a day for family and he was going to make sure the man he thought of as a brother was there to enjoy the day with them. As the light turned green, he gunned the engine sending the GTO sliding across the intersection.
    By the time he reached the consulate, Ray had a speech all prepared. No matter what Fraser said or did, he was going to be coming with him. Parking, he jumped out of the car and ran up to the large wooden doors of the consulate entrance. He slowed his pace and came to a stop. Standing in a snow drift, he stared up, his mouth dropping open as he saw Fraser standing naked in a window on the second floor. His eyes bugged out as he watched Thatcher, just as naked as Fraser, being embraced in his arms.
    With a wicked smile on his face, he raced up the few remaining steps. Adjusting his coat and running a hand through his spiky hair, Ray chuckled. *So the Ice Queen and Frazer listened to Frannie after all.* Bringing a hand up, he pounded on the door. "Hey Fraze, open up!" He smiled again as he pictured Fraser and Thatcher running around in a panic, trying to get dressed. "Merry Christmas Fraze! Now let me in!"
 
 
 

    Just as Fraser opened his mouth to tell Thatcher, she had nothing to apologize for, a loud pounding began on the front door of the consulate. He and Thatcher broke apart, leaning down, they looked out the window, seeing Ray standing below them. In their haste to jump away from the window, they bumped into one another. Fraser gasped and clutched his ribs, while Thatcher danced in place.
    "Ben, I'm sorry..." As their eyes locked, they both started laughing. She talked in a low voice, even though they were the only ones in the building. "This isn't funny, he'll know I'm here! He'll know that we..." She gestured at their nude forms. At first Fraser had smiled at her, then it faded as he figured out that she was right. "Oh dear...yes."
    They rushed about the room, grabbing and clutching pieces of clothing. Kicking the blanket aside, Fraser panicked. He knew he had taken his boxes off here, but now they were no where to be found. Giving up his search, he yanked on his jodhpurs, throwing the suspenders over his shoulders. Moving to Thatcher he touched her arm startling her as she shimmied into her underwear.
    "I'll go down and talk to Ray." "Get rid of him." "Yes...I'll do that. You finished getting dressed." Leaning forward, he gave her a quick kiss. Smiling she grabbed her bra and pulled it on. While she fastened it, she kissed him back. "Hurry up!" Smiling back at Thatcher, Fraser ran down the hall and stairs. Jogging up to the door, he ran his fingers nervously through his hair, hoping he would be able to get Ray to leave without a complicated argument. All he wanted to do was have a nice quiet breakfast with Thatcher so that they could discuss their future together.

    Ray raised his hand to rap on the door again and just as his knuckles were about to make contact with the heavy oak door, it flew open, revealing a very disheveled and flustered looking Fraser. Ray smiled brightly. He knew that Fraser would try and get rid of him. It was going to be fun watching him squirm.
    "Mornin Fraze, Merry Christmas." "And a Merry Christmas to you, Ray." They stood there for a moment looking at one another. Suppressing a smile, Ray opened his hands up in a questioning gesture. "You gonna ask me in or what? It's cold out here." As he took a step forward, Fraser blocked his entrance. Fraser cleared his throat and Ray raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm...not quite ready for company at this moment."
    "Company? I ain't company Fraze." Peering over Fraser's shoulder, he leered. "What's the matter? You got Thatcher runnin around in there naked?" He chuckled at his own joke and almost lost it as Fraser's face paled slightly. "I...she...I don't..." "Benton buddy...I know." Winking, Ray pushed by Fraser. Walking into the hall, he stopped at the bottom of the stairwell and yelled in the direction of the upper floor. "Merry Christmas Inspector!"
    The silence was deafening. He hadn't expected anything else. Chuckling, he turned to look back at Fraser, who was red from his chest to the roots of his hair. "Ya know you two really need to stay away from open windows. Either that or at least put some clothes on. Maybe in Canada you might run around like that, but here in America you keep your butt covered."
    He grinned as Fraser turned a deeper shade of red, his voice a whisper. "You saw us?" "Yup, you and the Ice Queen, naked as the day you were born." Bursting into laughter, Ray walked back to where Fraser stood rooted in place and slapped him on the arm. "It's about time you two got together." Fraser dropped his head down in total humiliation. "Aw come on Fraze, it's a good thing ya know...you and Thatcher. You belong with her." Fraser kept his head down, refusing to move or answer him. "Aw come on, I'm glad for ya both."
    A voice called down the stairs causing both men to look up. "I'm glad we have your approval." Thatcher stalked down the stairs, her head held high. This was her consulate and they were in Canada. There was no way in hell she'd let that loudmouthed American ruin what has happened between her and Fraser. Marching up to the spiky haired blonde, she glared up at him. "Do you have anything further to say?"
    "Yeah...Merry Christmas Meg." He smiled and quickly began to speak, using the speechless pause that Thatcher had given him. "Look, I'm gettin ready to go over to the Vecchio's, you two are gonna come with me." Fraser and Thatcher both stared back at him, the look in their eyes was one of sheer terror. "Before you both go gettin your underwear twisted in a knot, listen to me, okay? Ma would be more than a little upset if you didn't come and Frannie would feel like it was all her fault. If you think she felt bad yesterday, just wait until I walk in the door without you."
    Thatcher found her tongue first. "I'm not going. I'm not a part of that family and I feel the situation would be more than a little awkward." Fraser stood straighter. "I'm not going either Ray. Francesca will understand why I'm not there." "Yeah, right. She'll understand that you hate her enough to not show up and Ma will think that you don't consider them family. You have to go." "Fraser, you go. I'll go back to my apartment and..." "No, I won't go. I'm not going to spend Christmas without you."
    Thatcher looked at Fraser and could see that he was dead serious. He was more than willing to spend his holiday away from his adoptive family and she knew how much he loved them. Ray could see they were both wavering. It was time to bring out the big guns. "Fraze, if you don't show up, what will the kids think? What do you want me to tell them? Hey kids, Uncle Benny isn't here because Aunt Frannie made him tell a lady he loved her?"
    Thatcher and Fraser looked at one another, feeling the guilt run through them. It all came down to that one simple thing. Christmas was for the children. If they couldn't put aside their own feelings for the children, then what type of people did that make them? Fraser gave Thatcher a cautious look. "I would be willing to go only if you accompany me." "I...I guess I can go." Ray clapped his hands together. "Good, pitter patter let's get at 'er!"
 
 
 

    By the time Fraser and Thatcher were ready to go, Ray was getting fidgety. He hadn't planned on it taking so long. He originally planned on only picking up Fraser at the consulate. Finding Thatcher there with him was a bonus, but it also meant an extra trip to her apartment so that she could get changed. As they stood on the porch waiting for the door to open, Ray grinned at the picture that Thatcher and Fraser made.
    Both were dressed in faded jeans and well worn leather jackets. Each had on comfortable winter boots and sweaters. He hadn't thought of Thatcher being practical when it came to clothing having only seen her dressed up every time he saw her at the consulate. They were a matched pair. Francesca was more than right when she had forced them to face their feelings for one another, she was dead on the mark.
    The door flew open and Maria's youngest boy Angelo screamed over his shoulder back into the house. "Mom! It's Uncle Ray an' Uncle Benny an' some lady!" Running back into the house, he left Ray and Fraser standing on the porch with smiles on their faces. They were use to the Vecchio children. Thatcher found herself smiling as well. As they stepped into the foyer, she felt the excitement in the air. The sounds of voices talking loudly, laughter and the smell of cookies permeated the house. She corrected herself. This wasn't a house, it was most definitely a home. She frowned at that thought. This wasn't her home. She was an intruder.
     Looking up, she saw an older woman come striding down the hall. With a wide smile on her face, she hugged first Ray and then Fraser, greeting them boisterously in a mixture of Italian and English. Talking a step back, she gave Thatcher a smile. "And who is this Benton?" "Ma...this is Inspec...Meg Thatcher. She's my command...she's..." "Ah, this is your girlfriend that Frannie has told me about." Both Fraser and Thatcher wore surprised expressions. Thatcher was nonplused as Mrs. Vecchio pulled her into a warm hug and kissed her on the cheek.
    "Welcome to the family Meg. Frannie has told me all about you. You will make my Benton very happy." Turning away from the stunned pair, she urged them to follow her into the den. The noise that had been so loud a second ago faded as Fraser and Thatcher walked into the room. Ray looked across the room and found Francesca sitting on the sofa, talking to Turnbull. His smile widened and he gave her the thumbs up and motioned for her to come over to them.

    Francesca was on the verge of tears the moment she had seen them enter the room. Doing what she had done had hurt her to the core, but she knew it was the right thing to do. Seeing Fraser and Thatcher together in her own home on Christmas day was proof enough. Walking directly up to Fraser, she reached out and hugged him. "Merry Christmas Frase." Letting him go before she burst into tears, she moved to stand before Thatcher.
    "I see you guys listened to me." Letting out a small chuckled, she nervously wiped her hands on her sweater. "It's kinda a first ya know. Hardly anyone ever listens to what I say." Reaching out she hugged Thatcher and whispered in her ear. "You take care of him. He needs it." Letting her go, she quickly hugged Ray, who held her tightly to him while he patted her on the back. His voice was low and soothing. "You did good Frannie."
    Angelo came up and began to pull Fraser away. He quickly grabbed Thatcher's hand so that she went with them. As Ray and Francesca watched the children show them their toys from Santa, Turnbull walked over to where they stood. Holding his hand out he smiled.
    "Merry Christmas Ray." "Back at ya Turnbull." Ray grinned at Francesca, with a questioning look in his eyes. She smiled nervously. "We kinda had a little talk after they left." She pointed over at Thatcher and Fraser. "I asked him if he was busy for Christmas, he said no, so I invited Ren to come over." Her smile widened as she looked at Turnbull. "We decided it was better to share Christmas together than to be alone."

    The day went by quickly as all happy Christmas' do. Ray wasn't surprised to see that the initial awkwardness from the morning faded as the day progressed. He grinned as Turnbull gave Francesca a shy smile and a quick kiss on the cheek while they stood under the mistletoe. The blush that stained her cheeks was a direct indication that she was finally seeing another Mountie in a different light. With Fraser out of the picture, her eyes had been opened.
    Turnbull would be the type of man that would give up going home to Canada to stay in Chicago with her and Ray knew that without a doubt that before the coming new year was over, there would be an announcement for an impending Vecchio wedding. As far as he was concerned, this had to have been the best Christmas in a long time.

    Francesca walked down the hall and into the foyer with Turnbull close by her side, their fingers touching as they moved toward the door. She wanted to take him by the hand and thank him for making a potentially depressing Christmas into a happy one. She still felt saddened by the loss of a love that she would never get to know, but Turnbull's constant attention to her seemed to ease the pain. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as they paused by the door. For some reason, she found she didn't want him to leave.
    Turnbull looked down at Francesca, tucking his head down and smiling in the shy quiet way that he seemed to do around her. Raising his head, he spied the mistletoe hanging above them. Earlier in the day they had stood under the mistletoe and he had given her a chaste kiss on the cheek. He just couldn't bring himself to kiss her in front of so many people. Now that they were alone in the foyer, he grew bolder. If he were to let Francesca truly know how he felt about her, now would be the perfect time to do it. It wasn't every day that he and she would be standing under the mistletoe.
    Pointing above them, he smiled again. "Mistletoe Frannie." As she looked up, half expecting another kiss on the cheek, she was surprised as Turnbull wrapped his arms around her, his lips meeting hers. As he deepened the kiss, she unconsciously returned his kiss in kind, encircling her arms around his waist. As she parted her lips slightly, she felt his tongue gently seek hers. The small kiss under the mistletoe became one of passion and want. By the time they broke apart, they were breathless.
    Without releasing his hold on her, Turnbull looked into her eyes, his expression serious. "You don't know how I've longed to do that." Reaching a hand up, she brush her fingers across his lips, smiling as he kissed them. There was more to Turnbull than she had ever expected. Yes, he was clumsy. Yes he was kind of goofy at times, but the way he looked at her. The way he held her, told her everything she wanted to know. This was someone who cared about her. Someone that...loved her.
    Her eyes widened as she stared into his blue eyes. Not the same arctic blue-grey that Fraser had, but more of a warm blue like a summer sky. There was nothing cold or distant about Turnbull. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. He wasn't afraid to let people know who he really was. Smiling, she reached up and wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him down to her. Kissing him again, she thanked God for letting her find love at Christmas, even if it wasn't who she had initially wanted. Maybe this was her reward for making sure that the two people that belonged together, finally were together.