Opening his eyes, he stared at the hat in his hand before reaching for a towel. After a quick swipe, his Stetson was placed on top of one of his filing cabinets to dry. He'd place it in his hat press when he finally went home for the day. Sighing heavily, he dropped onto his chair and stared at the pile of envelopes that covered his desk.

The trip to one of the local schools had come as a welcome diversion from the task at hand. As much as he disliked the "community relations" side of Consular work, the chance to stand in front of a class full of students who could no more locate Canada on a map than their own state had to be better than addressing envelopes. It never ceased to amaze him how much American youths lacked in regards to basic world geography yet seemed to know everything about Susie's old boyfriend's new girlfriend's brother's car and what crime that car was involved in last Saturday night.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and after answering, Turnbull entered the office.

"Today's mail just arrived, sir," Turnbull said as he handed a pack of letters to Ben then spun on his heels and left.

"Thank you kindly," Ben called to Turnbull's retreating back.

Carefully sorting through the correspondence, he noted the usual assortment of bills, requests for information, and official inquiries that categorized the Consulate's normal mail. One large manila envelope caught his eye and he turned it over. His brow wrinkled in puzzlement as the name caught his attention. It was addressed to him, not the Canadian Consulate. Curiosity aroused, he checked for a return address only to discover there was none. The postmark was smeared, a victim of the rain that had settled in the day before.

Slipping a thumb under the flap, he paused then removed the thumb. He made it a point never to read personal correspondence at the Consulate. The Inspector already found enough faults with the job he did without adding fuel to the fire. Although ever since she and Turnbull had become friends (how close, he did not want to speculate), the instances of faultfinding had diminished.

Placing the envelope on his desk, he returned to the mundane task of addressing invitations to a reception. One of the many undersecretaries that blessed the Canadian government was visiting Chicago and felt that a reception would be an appropriate venue for the Consulate. He could still hear the Inspector's loudly voiced opinions of government officials who expected the Consulate to drop everything and entertain them while they were in town.

Reaching for another pile of invitations, his hand brushed across his envelope then returned and lingered. He would read it after he went home. Still, there was something about this envelope that drew his hand and thoughts back to it. There was something that tickled his memory.

Giving in to the distraction of the envelope, Ben raised it and slid his thumb under the flap. He stopped and, quite unconsciously, brought the envelope to his nose. He inhaled deeply...lavender. He closed his eyes as his heart began to race. Lavender-scented letters...he could picture each and every one of them. A dull ache settled into his racing heart as he stared at the envelope as he realized the implications of the package. This was from Phil. It surely contained the answers to his questions.

With trembling hand, he reached for the folded piece of paper. He feared that it would contain the news he dreaded reading--that Phil did not want him back in her life--that that final night at the motel in Flagstaff was all that he would ever have of her. He closed his eyes reliving the shared passion, the feel of Phil's bare skin next to his, the rapid beating of her heart, the taste of her kisses. Slowly he opened his eyes and focused on the short letter.

Ben's hands shook as he lowered the note to the desktop. There was no going back to the love they'd shared and it seemed there was very little chance of going forward. As much as the fires of passion might burn between them, Phil could not forgive him. Would that single act of betrayal haunt him for the rest of his life? Would he never be able to put it behind him? Would the demon known as Victoria continue to haunt him? Reluctantly he again turned his eyes to the note. What more could Phil say that she hadn't already said?

Ben closed his eyes and rubbed them with the fingers of his left hand. Before last summer, he had thought the chance of seeing Phil again was next to impossible. But, that possibility became reality on his vacation this past summer. Maybe, it would have been better for everyone if he had not insisted on rafting the Grand Canyon. Maybe he should have chosen backpacking in Yellowstone or hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. If he'd chosen one of those, he wouldn't now be facing the prospect of Phil's rejection. Again, a vision of sharing his motel bed with Phil occupied his thoughts. Surely, after that night together, she must still feel something for him.

Seeing her again reinvigorated his memories of Phil. How could he possibly love someone as much as he loved her? From the first moment there on the bank of the Colorado River, he wanted her--wanted her with an ache that reached to his toes. He denied it to himself, but his mind and body reminded him of nights in her arms. However wonderful those nights had been, they couldn't compare with that last night of the trip. He felt the coiling heat begin as memories of that last night wrapped around his senses and sought to overwhelm him.

Shaking loose of those memories, he turned back to the note.

Bowing his head, Ben again rubbed his eyes hoping to alleviate the burning sensation in them. Of course, Rob would want to spare his sister any more pain. He recalled his convalescence after the shooting. Rob was a competent physician and he had healed quickly under his care. Ben remembered a quiet moment shortly before he was released.

"Dr. Mckenzie...I wanted to thank you for..."

"There's no need, Constable."

"Yes, there is. After what happened between...between Phil and me, I, uh, I thought you would not care to treat me."

"Constable Fraser, it's because of my sister that I stayed with your case throughout your convalescence. Instead of transferring your care entirely to someone else when my skills were no longer necessary, I stayed with you."

"Why?"

"Frankly, Constable, if something happened to you...let's just say that the prospect of Detective Vecchio and Sergeant Madden united against me was enough to insure that you received the best of care."

Ben grinned. "Really? On reflection, I can see your point."

Rob smiled back. "Besides, Flip would never forgive me if I let something happen to you."

That remark had startled him, but before he could ask for clarification Ray had breezed into the room and bustled him from the hospital and Ben's only connection with Phil McKenzie. He'd visited with Rob several times since the shooting, submitting to Rob's expert hands as he probed his back. He turned back to the note.

Chuckling grimly to himself, he recognized Phil's attempt to hide the fact that she, too, lived here in Chicago but he'd come to terms with that. He knew it was her way of coping with the situation.

Ben glanced at the letters on his desk. He should have read them years ago. Maybe they would have explained the changes in Phil's life that continued to separate them. Maybe, if he'd read them, he wouldn't have thrown her love away. Maybe...

The sense of foreboding increased until his palms were sweating. He sorted through the letters finding the one with the earliest postmark. How could he have been such an insensitive fool and not opened this link with his one true love? How could he have mistaken what happened between Victoria and himself as love? How could he when he had already found it with Phil?

Rising abruptly from his desk, Ben strode to the closet and grasped the doorknob. Maybe his father could give him some advice. Shuddering slightly, he released the knob and stepped away from the door. This was something he had to face and running to his father was not the way for a man to act. He must buck up and face it like a man. After all, he was a Mountie.

Returning to the desk, he gathered the letters and swept them back in the manila envelope. Pushing it aside, he returned to the invitations, addressing several. He realized his mind was not on the job after he had to redo a couple of the invitations. Running a hand through his hair, he stared at the manila envelope. With an air of resignation, he laid his pen aside and reached for it. Spilling the smaller envelopes out onto his desk, he reached for the one with the earliest postmark. Taking it to the window, he opened it and read by the dim light filtering in through the blanket of clouds from the late autumn sun.

The letter continued discussing her classes and her research. She filled him in on the happenings with their friends. He smiled in remembrance of old friends.

The letter dropped from his hands and fluttered to the floor. A sensation of intense sickness and desolation swept over him. An inner torment began to gnaw at him. A child? Phil was pregnant? Phil was carrying his child when he had left her for Victoria? No, that couldn't possibly be true. He buried his face in his shaking hands before bending down and retrieving the letter from where it had landed. Straightening up, he returned to his desk on shaky legs and sat down. His eyes returned to the letter and he continued reading.

Ben buried his face in his hands and closed his eyes, feeling utterly miserable. No wonder she reacted the way she had. In a small part of his mind he wondered if this was what Cat had refused to tell him. That would explain much about her behavior towards him in the time since she had met Phil.

Stunned and sickened, he gathered his faltering courage and again read from the letter.

Rob and TJ...how they must hate him for hurting Phil the way he did. No wonder Rob had been so distant. It wasn't just the patient-doctor relationship or that he had ended his relationship with Rob's sister. Rob knew of their child. His child. Telling himself that he didn't know was only a poor excuse. He would have known if he had read her letter instead of sending it back.

He remembered the note he wrote and enclosed with it when he returned it. His heart plummeted to the soles of his feet. How could he have been so stupid--so cruel? He stared at Phil's letter only now noticing the unmistakable marks of tears. His throat seemed to close up as a tear snaked its way down his face and joined Phil's ancient ones on the page in his hand.

His broad shoulders heaved as he breathed. His mouth felt like old paper, dry and dusty. He reread the letter then carefully folded it, replaced it in its envelope, and placed it with the others back into the larger envelope. A new anguish seared across his heart. Would he have the courage to continue reading them?

There was a knock on his door and Inspector Thatcher walked in. Ben quickly wiped the traces of his tears from his face before standing at attention to face his superior. Although he could wipe the tears away, the shock and anguish in his eyes were there to be seen if someone looked close enough.

"I'm sorry, Sir. What did you say?" Ben mentally shook himself to bring himself back to the here and now.

"I asked you, Constable, how the invitations were coming along. Are you feeling all right? You don't look well." She had noticed the slight pallor, the trembling of his hands, and the lost look in his eyes.

Should he tell her the truth? He instantly knew the answer to that question. He could tell no one of the dastardly betrayal of the woman he loved. No one could possibly understand. Still, he realized he could not remain at his post as long as the specter of the letters hung over him. Their presence clamored for his attention, wrapping him in a shroud of dread and fearful anxiety. He had to find the courage to finish reading them. Only then would he know if there was a hope for reconciliation. He fervently prayed there would be for he desperately wanted to get to know his child. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he drew his attention back to the matter at hand--Inspector Thatcher.

Swallowing once more, he spoke, appalled at how weak his voice sounded. "As a matter of fact, Sir, I don't feel well at all. Perhaps it would be best if I took the rest of the day off. Maybe some rest would help. I will be back on duty tomorrow. I've almost finished the invitations, I can finish them tomorrow."

"Don't worry about that, Fraser. Turnbull can finish them. Don't come in tomorrow if you're still feeling ill."

"Thank you, Sir."

Thatcher looked closely at her subordinate officer. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, Sir. I just need to rest. Thank you, Sir."

"Very well. You may leave, Constable." She turned and left his office.

As soon the door closed, Ben stepped from behind his desk, shrugged into his slicker, and placed the envelope inside his tunic to protect it from the weather. Rubbing the insistent twinge of pain in his back, he grabbed his hat and made his way through the kitchen to the door at the rear of the old mansion. He followed the stone path through the gardens to the small cottage at the rear of the grounds.

The grey, wet day reflected his inner emotions. The walk to the cottage was the longest he had ever taken. Thoughts of Phil, their child, and his actions chased each other through his mind.

Diefenbaker met him at the door. Ben reached down and gave the wolf a good scratch behind the ears. "Surprised to see me home?" he asked as he placed the envelope on the kitchen table.

*Woof* Dief gave an affirmative answer.

Ben hung his coat up and placed his Stetson in the hat press. He removed his uniform tunic and hung it in the closet. Stretching, his hand went to the small of his back and the twinge residing there. His eyes strayed to the envelope on the kitchen table. He dreaded what it contained yet he knew he had to face it. He put water on to boil and when it was ready, fixed a cup of tea. Stalling, he fed Dief, apportioning out a half bowl of wolf chow--a special blend created by Dief's veterinarian.

The wolf looked at the chow, then turned woeful eyes to the Mountie. *Whine*.

"No pastries, Dief. You know better than to ask."

*Whine* and his best poor-starving-wolf look had no effect. Alpha Male paid no attention to him. Giving the equivalent of a wolf shrug, Dief ate the chow then headed toward the living room. He circled once before settling onto the large rag rug that covered the floor of the living room and closed his eyes. Alpha Male was obviously engrossed in some project of importance.

Taking the cup of tea to the table, Ben settled onto one of the old wooden chairs and opened the envelope spilling its contents onto the table. Phil's note went on the left of the table across from him. He opened the first letter again and read it, his heart aching with guilt and selfishness. He placed it next to Phil's note.

He had a daughter. He picked up the photo. Melinda Caroline Fraser stared at him across the years. His daughter stared at him with eyes as blue as his own. He laid the photo down and pushed away from the table. His wavering footsteps carried him to the rear door of the cottage. He opened it and stepped out onto the small stone patio where he gulped in lungs full of the damp air.

He had a daughter. She must be 11, almost 12 years old, now. He had a daughter. A tentative smile played across his lips. He...had...a...daughter.

Dief rose from the rug and approached the door. He stuck his muzzle out just far enough to survey his domain. He wished it would snow. This messy, wet rainy stuff was just not proper wolf weather. He turned back to the comfort of the rag rug. He was a wolf and wolves enjoyed their creature comforts. He though about Alpha Male out on the damp patio. How any creature could stand that wet stuff was beyond him! Rolling over, he went back to sleep.

A gust of damp air rocketed across the patio presaging the weather to come. Ben shivered as the clammy wind brushed across his face and strove to find each and every little opening in his clothing. Wrapping his arms about himself, he re-entered the cottage and returned to the kitchen and the letters on the table.

The teakettle whistled. Ben returned the letter to the tabletop and made himself another cup of tea. Returning to the table, he sat and stared at the envelope. He couldn't understand the dull ache of foreboding that squeezed his throat. Finally, he reached for it and quickly opened it. Photos spilled out. He slowly flipped through them, trying to learn as much as possible about his daughter. He saw Melinda held closely in the arms of her uncles, Rob and TJ. He saw her cradled tenderly in Phil's arms. He opened the folder holding a 5x7 of Melinda. She was dressed in a beautiful scarlet velvet dress with white lace trim. Her light brown hair feathered about her face and her blue eyes danced. The photographer had captured an angelic expression on her face. But what caught his eye was the miniature Stetson she gripped firmly in her hands. He smiled and reached for the letter.

"So, I had a granddaughter. I would have liked to know about her, Benton. You know I always wanted grandchildren." Bob Fraser stepped from the darkness of the unlit hallway.

Ben laid the photo aside before rising to his feet to face his father's apparition. A stab of guilt lay buried in his chest. "I'm sorry, Dad. I only just learned about her today. If I had known about her, I would have made sure that you met her."

"If you hadn't taken up with that floozy what's-her-name, Victoria, we could be one big happy family right now. What did you ever see in that woman anyway? It must have been something incredible for you to throw away a family like Phil and little Melinda Caroline. You know she was named after her grandmothers, didn't you?"

"No, Dad, I didn't." He watched his father's spirit approach the table and look at the photos spread out there. The 5x7 caught his attention.

He smiled down at the image of Melinda. "She's definitely a Fraser. There's no mistaking that smile and those eyes. She is the spitting image of your sister. Can't mistake beauty like that."

Ben smiled a proud father's smile. "Yes, she is a little beauty, isn't she?"

Sadness clouded Robert's eyes as he spoke again. "You know, Son, sometimes beautiful things are gifts that are given for a short time. While we have them we cherish them and when they're gone...we treasure their memories. Remember that, Son. It will help you overcome obstacles in your path."

"Dad..." But Robert Fraser was gone. Ben shook his head. Honestly, sometimes he just could not understand his father. Returning to the wooden chair, he settled onto it before opening the note contained with the photos and began reading.

Ben searched his memory. That must have been shortly after his transfer. He returned to the letter.

Ice spread through his stomach as the letter slid from his fingers. Melinda was dead? His daughter was dead? He blindly reached for the 5x7. No, it couldn't be true. He had never had the chance to know his daughter. No, she couldn't be dead. He felt icy fingers slip into every pore of his soul. His throat was raw with unuttered shouts and protests. The spark of hope he'd carefully nurtured slowly extinguished.

A flash of wild grief ripped through him as the tears burned the back of his eyes before flowing down his face. He didn't even try to wipe them away. 'It's true,' he acknowledged with bitter resignation. He would never get to hold his daughter, never get to watch her grow up, never get to tell her how much he loved her. Through tear-blinded eyes he read the rest of the letter.

How she must hate him. How could he even think that they might be able to start over? How could she stand to be near him for those two weeks? How could he have done that to her? He had never meant to hurt her but at the time, his thoughts were not on her but on Victoria. How he had come to rue the day she had entered his life. Victoria was a cancer...a demon that ate at his soul and destroyed all he loved. He laid his arms on the table and stared out the window at the rain. The bleak weather outside his apartment could not begin to compare with the bleakness in his heart.

Cat's face, shadowed by a deep sadness swam before is eyes. He spoke to the vision. "It's true...my daughter is dead and you knew. Why didn't you tell me?"

Was this the reason for the distant, sad look he had witnessed in Cat's eyes? Did Cat know about his daughter? Why would Phil tell her and not him? He stared at the letters on the table before him, realization weighing his heart. Phil had told him, he had simply refused to read her letters. He was too tied up in his obsession with Victoria to wonder why Phil continued to write him. He felt a wretchedness of mind that he'd never felt before.

He grabbed the last letter, determined to read it before his courage faltered. This was the letter that was never mailed. He opened it and looked at the date, June 1988--almost two years after Melinda's death.

He read with rising dismay. Phil blamed herself for what had happened. "No, Phil, it was nothing you did. I don't know what went wrong...except I went wrong. Phil, I hurt myself, too. I realized after Victoria betrayed me that I didn't love her like I loved you. Cat told me over and over that I was making the wrong choice. I should have listened to her. I don't know why I chose her over you." He spoke in a low, tormented voice, a heaviness settling in his chest.

The tears coursed down his face and he felt as if a giant hand was slowly squeezing the life from his heart. "I wish now that I had made a different choice. I wish I had known my daughter. Oh, Phil, our daughter. We had a daughter." His voice shook with the raggedness of a newly opened wound.

Ben had seen his ring around her neck after she had pulled him out of the rapids. It had surprised him and given him hope. No, he had never considered requesting it back from Phil. It was hers, now and forever. He had never even thought of giving it to Victoria. Somehow that had never seemed right. Why had Phil continued to wear his ring?

His hand delved into his shirt pulling forth the chain and the ring. He thought back to the raft trip. He could picture her clutching the chain and the ring. Memories of that final night together brought a flush to his countenance. He had asked her about the ring and she had admitted that it was his. She had left it with him when she disappeared into the night. How could she possibly want him to return it to her knowing what had happened between them? Brushing away tears, he took refuge in the letter.

Fear seized his heart. He thought of the hostage situation where Phil had fallen in the mineshaft. He had lost so many people that mattered to him. The thought of losing Phil because of his actions frightened him.

Ben smoothed the letter and placed it in line with the others. He closed his eyes. His hand rested on the first note--an invitation to share an important part of Phil's life. His hand moved to the second letter--joyful news of the coming birth of their child. His hand moved on to the third--Melinda Caroline Fraser. The fourth in the series, his hand shaking--sorrow and death for his daughter. Lastly--forgiveness and understanding.

A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed him and rising from the chair, he backed away from the table stumbling over his own feet. He backed until he hit the wall. Feeling along it, he moved until he encountered a corner. It was there he slid to the floor wrapping his arms around his knees. Shrouding himself in a cocoon of anguish, he grieved for all he had lost, mourned for what he could never have.

Dief stood over Alpha Male. *Whine*. When he got no response he nuzzled Ben's neck. A hand crept up and rubbed his back, then scratched behind his ears. Dief settled down beside Alpha Male and placed his head in his lap. Whatever had happened to Alpha Male, they would face it together.

Ray beat on the door. There was no answer. Where could Benny be? He tried the knob knowing that Fraser rarely locked his door. The door opened slowly and Ray entered cautiously. "Yo, Benny? You in there?"

Ray came fully into the small cottage when there was no response. Shaking the dampness from his coat, he glanced about the darkened living room.

*Whine* Dief padded up to him.

"Hey, Dief. Sorry, no donuts. Where's Benny?" He looked around the small room once more but could see nothing in the evening darkness.

Reaching behind himself, Ray flipped on the light switch then headed toward the kitchen. He glanced at the table and saw the cup of tea and the neat piles of correspondence spread out on the tabletop. He wandered over to the table and picked up a picture of a baby girl dressed in scarlet.

*Whine*

"What is it, boy?" He laid the photo down and turned to answer Dief's whine. Dief was standing over a figure huddled in the corner.

"Benny? Benny? What's happened? Benny?" He knelt down beside the figure and placed a hand on Ben's shoulder. Ben turned his face to Ray. His eyes were swollen and blood-shot. Ray knew immediately that he had been crying.

"Benny? What's happened? Tell me..."

He instinctively reached out to his best friend and hugged him. Ben's arms went about Ray's body and held on for dear life. Ray felt the sobs that wracked Ben's body. Ray cradled Ben's head and stroked his back.

"Now...now...hush...everything's gonna be all right..." Silly, senseless words that conveyed a multitude of feelings.

Ben quieted then pushed away from Ray's embrace. "Thanks, Ray," he spoke in a voice that sounded older than time itself.

Ray rose to his feet before extending a hand to Ben. "You wanna tell me what the problem is? I called the Consulate and they said you went home sick. Benny, you're never sick. What's the problem? Can I help? Don't clam up on me, Benny. I'm your best friend. Let me help."

"Thanks, Ray." Ben climbed unsteadily to his feet, his hand sliding to rub his back. Ray offered a shoulder to lean on, but Ben shrugged it off. "I...I need a moment to gather my thoughts. I'll be right back."

He limped slightly as he went into the bathroom, ran some cold water, and splashed it on his face. He felt slightly better, but the face in his mirror was a stranger. The pain and grief lay naked in his eyes but there was nothing he could do about that. He returned to the kitchen where Ray was heating some water.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please." Ben sat at the table and stared at the little piles in front of him. His misery was so acute it was a physical pain.

Ray sat down opposite him. Motioning to the papers and photos on the table, he asked, "You wanna tell me about this? Is this what upset you?"

He flung out his hands in simple despair. "No...yes...I mean...yes this is what has upset me and no I don't think...I...I think it would be better if you just read each letter. I don't think I can impartially discuss their contents right now." He picked up the first letter and gave it to Ray.

Ray read through it quickly. "So what so devastating about this letter? What does the other ones say? What happened?" He was curious to know just what it was that Phil had sent to Benny. He had wondered when she would get around to telling him that she lived here in Chicago. But why would that upset him so? A shiver of foreboding raced up his spine. Ray studied Ben carefully. Had Phil told him about their daughter? That was the only thing that could have produced the state Ben was in--unless she had totally blown him away. His anger burned as he contemplated the cowardice that Phil had shown. How could she do this to Ben? He watched Ben take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"As you know, we were engaged to be married. I promised to send for Phil when my position stabilized. I never did, instead I ended our engagement when I met Victoria. I shouldn't have, but I...I didn't know..." He pushed the second letter to Ray.

Ray nodded his head. "I'll say this for you Fraser, when you make a mistake, you do it big time. So what's in this letter?" He started reading but turned a look of pity on Ben as he read the 'joyful' news. He knew now where these letters would end. The knowledge twisted and turned inside him.

"Phil was pregnant when you dumped her?" Again Ben nodded. "Did you know?" Ben closed his eyes and shook his head. "Well, that's something at least."

He reached for the birth certificate and a sad smile spread across his face. "So, you had a kid." He picked up the pictures and looked at them one by one. He lingered over the 5x7. So this was Lindy, Ben's daughter. "She's a pretty little thing."

Ben bowed his head, his body slumping in despair. The tears started again as he fumbled for the third letter and passed it to Ray.

Ray gave Ben a sympathetic look, then bent to the letter. "Oh, man...jeez, I'm so sorry, Benny." Anger coursed through him and made his voice harsher than normal. She could have, at least, used a gentler way to tell him. But...were there any gentle ways to tell a man his child had died? Ray subsided into silence. He could only imagine what Ben was feeling. He had known this day was coming. It was inevitable that Ben would learn of his daughter, especially if he and Phil patched up their differences.

"Benny, I know how inadequate words are. I can only imagine what you're feeling...what you're going through." Just the thought of losing someone dear to him brought a lump to his throat.

Ben looked at Ray, the misery evident on his face. "I know you do, Ray. It's just...I feel so...so lost. I never got to hold my daughter. I wasn't there for Phil. I feel like...like..."

"Like dirt? Scum? Shit?"

Ben nodded, Ray was being too helpful. "All that and more."

Ray gestured to the letter. "I would have never thought that she could be so cruel as to tell you something as devastating as this in a letter. Why didn't she have the guts to tell you face to face?"

"Don't blame her, Ray. I couldn't face her when I broke our engagement. I sent her a letter..."

"That doesn't excuse it, Benny! She's got some explaining to do."

"No, Ray, I know exactly how she feels. I know the cowardice behind the letters. I know all to well how it feels to not want to face someone you love and tell them something that will cause so much pain. If she's guilty of this then so am I."

"But, Benny..."

"No buts, Ray."

Ray clamped his lips shut. Just because Ben didn't want to pursue this matter didn't mean he wouldn't. He fully intended to let Phil know just what he thought of what she had done. Glancing back at the letters on the table, he took a deep breath and changed the subject.

"Phil can be pretty direct, can't she? 'Never see you again?' How did she put up with us for that trip? It sounds like she would have gladly cut out your heart and fed it to you." Somehow the Phil he knew from the rafting trip didn't match the Phil from these letters. "They seem like two different people. I wonder which one is the real one."

When Ben lifted his eyes, the pain was still there. "What was that, Ray?"

"I said I wondered which Phil was the real one--the one from our trip or the one in your letters." Ray motioned with his hand toward the papers strewn on the tabletop.

Ben didn't answer, only slid the last letter to Ray. Ray took it and read it. He shook his head. "Frankly, Benny, I don't understand her. Even after what happened she loves you or at least she did..." he looked at the date, "...nine years ago. So...the Phil I got to know is the real one?"

"Probably as real as she will let you know. I could tell that she was holding back. Not really being herself. I didn't push her. I didn't feel I had the right."

"So what are you going to do?" Ray knew about the ultimatum. It looked like Phil had made her choice. He hoped they could work out their differences. Benny was his best friend, and he deserved some happiness in his life. If Phil was...well, if she could make Benny happy--that was all that mattered.

"I don't know, Ray." Ben reached for Phil's latest note. "She says that she will be at the offices of BakTrak Friday next. Maybe I should see her. I don't know. Maybe it would be better for everyone if I didn't. I've hurt her enough."

"But what about you, Benny. You're hurting, too. I think she knew how this news would affect you. I wish she hadn't told you. Hear me out, first..." Ben's instant objection was forestalled. "I wish she hadn't told you, but I'd be the first to admit that you needed to know. Now you need to deal with your grief and all the other feelings that are eating you. I think you should go and see Phil. She has already dealt with these exact same emotions. She is the only one who can really understand your grief and help you find some peace."

Ben turned startled eyes to Ray. "I can't, Ray. Not after all of this."

Ray placed a hand on the shaking shoulder of his friend. "Ben..." Ben raised his face to his friend. Ray never called him Ben. "Ben, this has been eating at you for years. I don't know what it was with you and Victoria but it wasn't love. Ever since she stormed through our lives I've watched you slowly fall apart. Do you have any idea how hopeless it feels to watch your best friend slowly go to pieces right before your eyes and there's nothing, absolutely nothing, you can do to stop it?"

He turned away, moved to the window, and leaned against its coldness. He stared out into the darkness not sure what he could do to help his friend. Turning back to face Ben, he continued, "Ben...I don't know how I know it but if you let this chance pass you by...there will never be another one. You were the one who told Phil that you couldn't live with just her friendship. You were the one to demand all or nothing." No way was he going to let Benny back out of this. After all, he was the one who had issued the ultimatum. Now it was time to pay the piper.

"Are you going to turn chicken just because you found out just how much of an asshole you were? How much you lost when you chose that bitch over Phil? Are you that much of a coward? Are you afraid to face her knowing the sorrow she's carried all these years? She's taken that first step back to you. Are you gonna turn your back on her, now? Are you gonna keep on making the same mistakes over and over until it kills you?" He paused gauging the look in Ben's eyes. "Or are you gonna go and see Phil? You know she's the only one who can help you make peace with yourself."

A distant memory invaded his mind and Ben buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief as the words echoed in his mind. 'Phil, please help me, you're the only one who can save me.' He shifted his face up and stared at Ray. "Peace? Ray, I haven't known a day of peace since Fortitude Pass when Victoria entered my life. Peace? I once had it but I thoughtlessly threw it away. I don't deserve peace. Especially not with Phil."

"Benny, Phil has forgiven you. It's time you forgave yourself but I do agree with you. You'll never know peace until you find your own forgiveness. I honestly think Phil can help you find it. She's offering to be there for you. Don't turn your back on her again. You may never get another chance."

"I don't feel like I deserve another chance. I let her down." He shrugged in mock resignation.

"Remember how much you regretted not being there to help your father? How you wished you had taken that extra step to help him? He might still be alive, if the two of you had worked through your differences."

"I know all that, Ray." Ben bowed his head. "All right, I'll think about seeing Phil."

"Good. Why don't you come home with me and spend the night. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Thanks, Ray, but I'll stay here. I need to think about all that's happened. I need to be alone." He needed time to deal with the knowledge the letters brought as well as the pain those same letters had given him.

Not quite convinced but knowing there was no changing the Mountie's mind, Ray answered, "I understand, Benny. Just remember, I'm here for you--anytime, night or day. Just call. Okay?"

Ben smiled wanly and nodded.

Ben continued to sit at the table long after Ray left. Dief sat beside him, a hand absent-mindedly stroking his head.

*Whine*

Ben slowly drew his thoughts back to the here and now. He sighed and scratched behind the wolf's ears. "I really messed things up badly, didn't I?"

*Woof*

"I know, I know. I don't need to be reminded of that."

*Woof*

"Okay, I'll listen to you next time." He rose to his feet, "Let's go for a walk and get something to eat."

The walk did them both good. Dief stalked and captured a half eaten Big Mac and a few soggy French fries. Ben closed his eyes and raised his face to the falling icy rain. Its cold wetness on his face reminded him of the blizzard and Victoria.

Victoria--cold, demanding everything from him, giving only crumbs, only what she didn't want, taking everything and wanting more. How could he have mistaken what he felt for her for love? Love was not demanding...love was giving. Love was warmth, sharing, giving without restraint...love was finding the other half of your soul. Victoria had never been his other half. To be that you had to have a soul and, frankly, he doubted she had one. Demons didn't have souls. No, years ago he had found his other half. He had recognized it but had thrown it away when he found something he thought was better. Now he knew. There could never be anything better than being complete. All those years he deluded himself in thinking that Victoria could fill that hole in his heart. She could never, ever fill that Phil-shaped hole. Phil was his other half. Only she could make him whole again.

He smiled. He would go and see Phil. They had things to talk over. He wanted to know more of Melinda. The ache in his chest felt like he had sliced open a newly healed wound. He wanted to know more of what had happened to Phil over the years. He wanted to hear her laugh and smile at him and tease him and kiss him. He wanted her. He smiled as the old, familiar fires of desire burned through his body. Maybe they could work things out between them. Maybe...

Ben lay on his bed and stared at the darkness outside his window. The initial grief of his loss was past and he could begin to think objectively about what his life might have been like if different choices had been made.

Impatiently he rose from the bed and strolled to the window. Rain still fell, intermixed with sleet. Dreary described more than just the weather. He had to do something to straighten out this mess. He had to see Phil. He had to beg her forgiveness for not being there for his daughter. He had to beg her forgiveness for not being there to share her grief. He had to beg her forgiveness for not being there. Could he do it? He knew that before they could move forward he had to make amends for the pain that he'd brought to their lives.

Diefenbaker stirred in his corner, raising his muzzle to regard his friend. He knew something important had happened--something that had to do with the Lavender Woman, the scent clung to the letters on the table--something that had upset Alpha Male. Grumbling slightly, he wondered if his pack leader would ever drum up enough courage to claim his mate. All of his efforts so far had proven futile. He would just have to think of something else to try.

Turning away from the window, Ben's eyes moved to the dreamcatcher hanging over his bed. Sighing, he shook his head. "Cat, you never cease to amaze me. Just look at this dreamcatcher. I didn't think anything about it until I came back from my trip. Now...now everything in it shouts at me. How did Sarah know so much about me?" But Cat wasn't there to answer his questions.

Removing the dreamcatcher from the wall, Ben settled onto his bed and studied it. He was certain that this tiny red stone was garnet. He knew that a garnet was thought to be a stone of health. The flashes of light contained within were supposed to help him quickly change his world by producing expansiveness and manifestations. It also, supposedly, would enhance his internal fire. He chuckled. He didn't think he needed any help with his internal fires. Just the thought of Phil could set those fires burning with no help whatsoever.

Garnets also allowed a person to recognize inherent responsibility with respect to personal freedom and patience, incited personal magnetism and cooperation in instances of change. Garnets were known as the 'stone of commitment' - to purpose, to others and to oneself. Ben fully recognized his responsibility in the broken relationship with Phil. But, as the stone signified, he wanted to mend that breach.

Continuing his reflections, Ben recalled the words of Quinn, his mentor, as he explained the significance of these stones.

"The loving powers of garnet reflect the attributes of devotion, bringing the love of others to expressions of warmth and understanding. It is helpful in moods of abandonment. The energies of the garnet amplify the functions of emotional regeneration. Helps promote connection to other worlds. It produces flashes of insight to assist in guiding one to the 'right' endeavors. It discourages chaotic, disruptive and disorganized growth. It is used to bring order to chaos and for treating disorders of the bones, heart, lungs and blood. It is also used to equilibrate sexual energies," Quinn instructed Ben Fraser, teenager.

Ben chuckled as he recalled that last note. Quinn had helped a boy with raging hormones, tread the narrow path that steered him away from promiscuity. "Someday you'll meet your soul mate, Benton. When you meet her you'll share this ultimate gift with her. Don't mistake sex for love. Sex without love only cheapens what you have to offer."

True to Quinn's teachings, Ben had only shared himself with the women he truly loved--Cat and Phil. Victoria was his only aberration but at the time he'd thought he loved her, too. It was only years later that he knew better.

Ben's hands strayed to the next stone caught in the web of the dreamcatcher. It was a silky moonstone. This time it was Cat's voice in his head explaining the significance of the stone.

"Ben, this is a moonstone. It's energy is balanced, introspective, reflective and lunar. The energy relates to new beginnings. It is a stone for hoping and wishing and allows one to absorb what is 'needed', not necessarily furthering what is 'wanted'. It can assist you in maintaining and understanding your destiny. It is a stone for feeling. It brings insight that banishes the possibility of neglecting your profit from your experiences. It stimulates intuitive recognition, confidence, and composure. It assists with the total fulfillment of ones destiny. It is called the 'traveler's stone' and is a talisman of good fortune. It arouses tenderness with self and brings happiness to ones environment. It is used to alleviate emotional tension and brings calmness and awareness."

A stone of hope and feeling and understanding--Ben recognized how much he wanted to believe the message contained in the tiny translucent gem. He knew he would need all the help he could get if he pursued the promise of Phil's letters. Yes, he could learn from his experiences. He knew, without a doubt, that he would never make the mistake of throwing her love away again. If she would only take him back.

His hand strayed to the next smooth pebble entwined within the web. Closing his eyes he made a wish on the wishing stone. He knew that magic men and women in traditional Native American cultures chose these stones. Silently, Ben whispered his troubles to the stone and hoped the stone would remove the troubles from his life, realizing all the while that he knew it wasn't that simple.

The wolf's tooth was self-explanatory. To the Inuit the wolf represents loyalty and family values--something he prized highly. His gaze slid to the corner where Dief regarded him. "Thank you, Dief," he quietly spoke to the wolf. Dief continued to regard him but the look in his eyes let the Mountie know he had understood the softly spoken words.

The next object caught within the web of the dreamcatcher was a small pouch containing a spell. What kind of spell, he could only speculate. Knowing Cat, though, it probably had something to do with forgiving himself or maybe it was a love spell. That would be just like her, trying to push him into something without actually pushing. He smiled. Mentally, he surrendered to the inevitable.

'Okay, Cat. I'll see Phil. Maybe we can find the love we once had. And after that, you and I are going to sit down and have a talk about withholding information from each other.' Briefly the shadow of grief tugged at his heart. 'Not now,' he told himself. There would come a time when he could grieve properly--a time when he could hold Phil in his arms and share her pain--but not now. Now, he needed to get his head back on straight--he needed to see Phil. Maybe there was a chance that they could put their differences behind them. Maybe...

He placed the dreamcatcher back on the wall and settled into his bed. Turning the light off, he quickly slid into a welcome dream of love with a dark haired woman with a crooked smile. The dreamcatcher hanging above his head captured the dream and saved it for him. The demons that were his constant companions were ensnared within the web of the dreamcatcher and as the night wore on they remained trapped, unable to invade those precious moments when Ben was once more enveloped within Phil's love.

Disclaimer: This story is written for the private entertainment of fans. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story. Fraser, Vecchio, et.al. belong to Alliance; the McKenzies and friends belong to Cassandra Hope: Cat Madden belongs to Carol Trendall. No infringement of any copyrights held by CBS, Alliance, CTV or any other copyright holders of DUE SOUTH is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit.

Lyrics from Fumbling Towards Ecstasy by Sarah McLachlan are used without permission.

Copyright February 1997 (revised June 2001) by Cassandra Hope