Benton Fraser sprang violently awake, shooting up off his bedroll, and twisting his back in the process. Grimacing in pain, he gasped as his hand shot to soothe the fire rippling across his back.

"What is it, Dief?" he moaned.

*Woof* Dief nuzzled Alpha Male once more before lifting his muzzle and sniffing the air.

Ben's hand stilled as his eyes flew open. Imitating the wolf, he, too, inhaled deeply searching for whatever had disturbed Dief's slumber (not to mention his own). There it was! Ben clambered to his feet reaching for his jeans. By the time he reached the door of his apartment, the jeans had been fastened. He sought his boots but realized there was not enough time for that.

Cautiously, he touched the door handle then sighed with relief. Throwing the door open, he raced down the hallway pounding on each door as he passed. Dief excitedly followed in his wake howling loud enough to wake the dead.

When they reached the stairway, Dief raced down it stopping only after reaching the floor containing the Gamez apartment. Howling loudly, he jumped on the door. Circling about, he again jumped on the door. He continued this behavior until Mrs. Gamez opened the door to him. Rushing into the apartment, Dief quickly awakened the children and taking hold of Mrs. Gamez's robe pulled her in the direction of the door. By this time Ben had arrived on the floor and was knocking on doors.

Mrs. Gamez took stock of the situation and reacted instinctively. Sweeping the photos from her television set into a fold of her robe, she quickly ushered her children from the apartment, down the stairs, and out onto the sidewalk of the predawn morning. Sirens in the distance announced the approach of fire trucks. Ben soon emerged from the building carrying elderly Mrs. Tinamorelli, her husband close behind. Other tenants followed in his wake.

"Dief?" Ben called as he placed Mrs. Tinamorelli on her feet. "Has anyone seen Diefenbaker?" he asked as he rubbed his aching back. Maybe he shouldn't have carried Mrs. Tinamorelli but the frail lady couldn't move fast enough to safely evacuate the building. She and her husband needed his help.

"Look!" Mario Gamez shouted and pointed toward the building where flames now erupted from several windows on the second floor. From the entrance of the building, a white shadow emerged leading a small girl and a stocky man. They joined the rest of the tenants on the other side of the street and watched as the fire department sought to save their homes from destruction.

Ben knelt beside Dief. "You did an admirable job, Diefenbaker. I'm very proud of you," he said before hugging the wolf in a rare show of emotion.

*Woof* Dief queried as he licked Ben's face.

"I'm fine, Dief. I'm sorry that I worried you."

Dief huffed slightly before circling around the kneeling Mountie and settling on his haunches beside him. They both watched the firefighters work to save their home.

Ray and Stan took turns standing in front of and glaring at the bulletin board containing their combined notes, maps, and photos of the auto theft ring case they were investigating. It was Ray's turn to glower at the board as if the very intensity of his gaze could make some sense of the scattered bits of information that had been gathered over the course of a year or more. Most of the information was scrawled in Stan's barely legible handwriting. Some bore the evidence of hard usage and an occasional pizza (pepperoni, heavy on the cheese and tomato sauce). Hard as they might stare, there simply was no pattern that could be discerned. The thefts ranged from as far north as Highland Park to as far south as University Park. Not content to remain within the boundaries of Illinois, the ring operated into the suburbs of Gary, Indiana. High dollar luxury cars were no more favored than the family minivan. In fact, the ring specialized in common, nondescript, low cost family-type vehicles.

Running his hands down his face, Ray grimaced behind his fingers. As much as he hated to admit it, his new partner, Stan, had provided practically all the known information as well as knowing a snitch or two that kept him informed. Not that that information had led to anything that resembled a break in the case, but at least they weren't stumbling around in the dark.

The door of the interrogation room opened and Ray glanced over his shoulder. A smile spread across his face as his friend and 'real' partner entered the room. If only it was Benny that was helping him with this case. He was confident that the Mountie could lick a hubcap or smell the contents of the gas tank and figure out not only where the car had come from but also where it was going. "Hey, Benny," he called and motioned for his friend to join him. "Ya got today off?" he asked as his eyes took in Ben's unofficial attire.

"Hello, Ray, Stan," Ben spoke to both men. "Yes, Ray. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I have been given today off. How is the case progressing?" he asked as he came around the table and approached the bulletin board.

"It ain't goin' nowheres, Frase," Stan commented as he deftly wielded a toothpick before tossing it in the trashcan by the door. He casually placed one booted foot on the corner of the table then propped the other one on it. "We've gone over everything a million times and we still come up with zilch...nada. I gotta get back out on the street." He swung his feet down and pulled his lanky frame to a stand.

"Welsh said it's getting too dangerous for that," Ray spoke in a voice closely approaching a sneer. "But don't let that stop ya."

"Ray, Stan, please, I'm certain..." Ben began.

"Hey, Vecchio, Kowalski, Lieutenant wants to see you now," Elaine spoke from the open door.

"Now what does he want?" Ray spoke through clenched teeth.

Ben trailed behind the two detectives as they worked they way through the bullpen in the direction of Welsh's office. Glancing around the bullpen, he idly wondered where Diefenbaker had gone. He waited patiently for the two minutes that elapsed before Ray and Stan emerged from Welsh's haven.

A blur of white sped around the corner of a desk and descended on the two detectives. Stan dropped down to eye level with the white wolf. Ruffling the fur around his ears, he spoke with genuine affection, "Hey, Dief, how's my big guy. I saved you a jelly donut."

Ray shook his head sadly at how quickly Stan had fallen under the wolf's spell. Making his way back to the two desks in the corner, he brushed against Ben. "Ya better go do something about that." He motioned with his head. "I heard something about jelly donuts."

"Oh, dear, and Diefenbaker knows he's on a diet!" Ben muttered as he headed toward Stan and the wolf.

Surprised at how quickly Stan and Diefenbaker had established rapport, Ben felt it necessary to also establish some basic guidelines. "Please, Stan, Diefenbaker is on a strict diet and jelly donuts are not part of the regimen." Unfortunately, or fortunately as that may be, Ben did not know about the box of Twinkies Stan kept stashed in the bottom drawer of his desk and how a lasting friendship had developed over those same Twinkies and a bowl of chocolate-laced coffee.

"Is the big bad Mountie starving the poor little wolfie?" Stan ignored Ben's plea.

Dief woofed his agreement and, just for good measure, lunged at Stan planting a slobbery wet lick across his face. He liked Turtle Man even if he sometimes spoke like a cub.

Stan laughed and ruffled Dief's fur once more. His nose wrinkled slightly and he leaned closer to the animal. Taking a deep breath, his eyes widened dramatically.

"Hey, Frase, did ya know your wolf smells like the main course at a luau?" Glancing back at the wolf, he asked, "Whatcha do, Dief, raid somebody's barbecue?"

Ben absent-mindedly tugged on an earlobe. "Actually, he helped rescue several people from a fire this morning and I simply haven't had a chance to bathe him yet to remove the smell of smoke from his fur."

"A fire? No kidding!" Stan's eyes gleamed in admiration. "You're a real hero, Dief, and real heroes deserve rewards." Rising to his feet, he headed toward his desk, Dief plastered to his side.

"Still feeding junk food to the wolf?" Ray asked from behind his desk.

"Cut the crap, Ray. Dief here's a hero. He deserves a reward." Opening the donut box sitting on his desk, Stan tilted it for the wolf's perusal. "Whatcha want, Dief? Your choice."

Dief planted two paws on the top of Stan's desk and stared intently at the contents of the half full box. He carefully considered each donut before making his choice.

*Woof*

Stan grinned widely before dropping the box back onto the desk and removing the single cherry-filled Bismarck. "Good choice, Dief. Here ya go, buddy," he said as he handed the pastry to the wolf.

Dief gingerly grasped the donut in his mouth. Turning, he trotted over to Ben, wagged his tail, then disappeared through the doors of the bullpen.

Ben bowed his head and mumbled to himself, "Pay and pay and pay..."

"That is sick, ya know that? And you're gonna make that wolf sick, too!" Ray commented as he watched the exchange between Ben and the wolf.

"A hero deserves a reward."

"Hero? What'd he do? Rescue some kids from a Happy Meal?"

"Ah, no, Ray," Ben said as he joined the two detectives at their desks. Dropping down onto the wooden chair beside the desks, he placed his Stetson on Ray's desk then ran a thumb across his left eyebrow.

"Well, ya gonna tell me or not?"

"He saved some folks from a fire, right Frase?" Stan spoke before Ben had a chance.

"Uh, yes, Stan." Clearing his throat, he glanced from Stan to Ray. "He helped Mrs. Gamez's children from the building then went back in for Lucy and her dad. Fortunately the fire was detected early and everyone was able to exit the building safely. The fire department arrived on the scene within minutes and the fire was extinguished in less than half an hour."

"Mrs. Gamez? Lucy? The fire was at your place?" Ray rose to his feet, and placing his hands on his desk, leaned toward the Mountie.

"Your apartment building burned down?" Stan asked as he rose to his feet as well.

"Not all the way but I am afraid that the building has suffered too much damage to be rehabilitated. It's bound to be condemned."

"What about your apartment, your things?" Ray asked as he realized the reason behind the unusual attire for the Mountie.

"Fortunately, the fire only gutted the kitchen portion of my apartment. The only things of value that I lost were some photos and a small plant."

"Your father's trunk?"

"It survived the fire but I'm afraid Diefenbaker is a bit put out with me."

"Dief? Why?"

Ben again raked a thumb across his eyebrow. "It seems his favorite dish did not survive the flames and he blames me for not protecting it better."

"Understandable," Stan agreed.

"I apologized but he's still upset with me."

"What about your clothes?" Ray brought up the point that had bothered him all along.

"The closet was spared but I'm afraid that everything in it reeks of smoke. I've already dropped my uniforms at the dry-cleaners. The rest...."

"Ya can do at my place," Stan volunteered. "What? Ya got a problem with that?"

"Uh, no, Stan, I just do not wish to impose on our friendship."

"What impose? Ya need someplace to stay while you straighten things out and I gotta nice comfy sofa. Ya can stay with me until you find a new place. Besides, Dief likes me and my building allows pets."

"I can't possibly..."

"Right! It's settled then," Stan brushed aside Ben's protests.

"Benny?" Ben glanced at Ray. "It's either Stan's place or mine, take your pick." Ben glanced from Ray to Stan and back to Ray, indecision plain on his face.

"Let me help you with your choice, Benny. One word--Frannie." Ray let his sister's name drop into their conversation.

"Hey, don't go dissing your sis," Stan protested.

Ray simply cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. "What'll it be, Benny? Ma would love to have you stay with us as would Frannie." What did it matter if his sister no longer professed an interest in the Mountie? Just the threat was enough.

Tugging slightly on the collar of his blue flannel shirt, Ben cleared his throat. Glancing between his two friends, he spoke, "Actually, I believe the problem of my living arrangements may already be taken care of."

"How's that?"

"When I contacted the Consulate to explain my tardiness, Constable Turnbull seemed most certain that the Inspector would allow me to stay there until other arrangements could be made."

"So, Turnbull's in charge now?" Stan snidely asked.

Ray grinned before saying, "I think Turnbull may have some sway with the Dragon Lady."

Both Stan and Ben's heads swung around to regard Ray. "What makes you think that? The Ice Queen never listened to Turnbull before, why now?" Stan queried.

Thinking back to that night over a week ago, Ray smiled mysteriously. "Let's just say that I have some inside information." He'd decided not to tell anyone about that night. As much as he disliked Thatcher and the way she'd treated Benny, she deserved her privacy as much as the next person.

"Yeah, what? Turnbull is actually a secret agent sent to Chicago to spy on us in preparation for an invasion?"

"Constable Turnbull is..." Ben began but was cut off by Ray.

"A man of many facets and let's just leave it at that, okay?" he said with some finality.

"So, there's something more to Turnbull than we already know?" Ray nodded his head. "That's cool," Stan agreed. Ben simply nodded his head. He hadn't cared to discuss his fellow officers anyway.

"Don't you think it's a bit crowded in here already?" Sergeant Bob Fraser asked of his son.

"I'm sorry if my presence in my office disturbs you, Dad, but I really had no choice in the matter."

"You might have considered the offer your friend made," Bob pointed out.

"I appreciated his offer but preferred to remain here while I found other arrangements. This is only temporary, Dad, and I really don't think you have any need to be concerned about space. Just how much space does a ghost need?" exasperation tinged Ben's voice.

"Well..." Bob began but was interrupted by a voice from without.

"Constable?" the voice drifted from the general region of the door. Ben recognized it immediately and quickly backed out of the closet.

"I'm here, Inspector," he answered as he smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in his brown uniform shirt.

Glancing around the small room, Inspector Thatcher decided it was better for her to remain in the doorway rather than try to negotiate what limited space was left after Ben had moved the remainder of his possessions into the room. There was no way that she would comment on how strange she thought it was to find him in the small closet of the room apparently talking to no one.

"I see that you have managed to ah...um..." At a loss for words, she simply motioned about the room.

"Ah, yes, Inspector," he snapped to attention, "with the aid of Detectives Vecchio and Kowalski, I have moved my effects here. I apologize for the untidiness of my office. I will rectify that immediately." He would have already done so but for the recent discussion with his father.

"I'm sure you will. You do realize, of course, that you are free to use any of the other rooms in this building for your personal needs. That is, until you have found suitable living arrangements."

"Thank you, sir, but I can manage quite well in here."

"As you will, Fraser, in the meantime, this packet of information was sent to the consulate. Since it involves something I am not familiar with, I could only conclude that it must involve you." She handed a large envelope to Ben and stood with arms crossed as he pulled the contents from the envelope.

Glancing quickly through the folder and the various documents contained in the envelope, Ben cleared his throat before answering the unasked question. "Yes, sir, I requested this information from Ottawa earlier in the week. I think it might have some bearing on a case that Detectives Vecc...."

Waving a hand in a 'ward off' motion, she tersely interrupted, "I've heard enough, Fraser. After glancing through those files, if you think that this is tied in with whatever your American friends are working on then please continue. This auto theft ring needs to be broken." She glanced once more around the small office. "Take the rest of the day off, Fraser. You obviously need it to straighten this mess."

"But..." He held up the files.

"That can wait. Get settled in first," she answered then spun on her heels and disappeared down the hallway in the direction of her office.

Ben slowly exhaled the breath he'd only now realized he'd been holding. He was a bit surprised at the response that the Inspector had given him. He'd fully expected to be chastised and sentenced to sentry duty for an unspecified length of time. Instead, she'd given him free reign to work with Ray and Stan on the case. Whatever had brought about this change in her demeanor, Ben fervently hoped it would continue. The consulate staff was working smoothly together and Thatcher seemed to be happy.

Turning, he stumbled over his father's trunk and lurched unsteadily to maintain his balance. His back protested and, after placing the file on the desk, he massaged the affected area with his fingers. When the twinge abated, he set about organizing the very limited space he had left in his office.

Soon, the trunk was pushed against the wall below the window. A small cot was set up over the trunk effectively hiding it from view and conserving what little space there was. The small dresser he had utilized in his apartment had not survived the move and his boxers, socks, and long johns now resided within a filebox in the closet. His father had grumbled long over the fact that his doorway had come to resemble the shelves of a country store.

"I only hope that you have the presence of mind to keep your unmentionables out of sight, Benton. It would be embarrassing to say the least if any visitors were to catch site of them."

"Visitors? Since when do ghosts get visitors?"

"Get 'em all the time! I'm not the only dead person around here, you know!"

"I didn't realize the afterlife was so...busy," Ben muttered under his breath.

"I heard that."

Ben carefully removed the plastic dry-cleaner jackets over his uniforms and hung them in the closet. His jeans, shirts, and 'unmentionables' had been laundered in the laundry room of the consulate and all that was left to do was to organize everything. Methodical as always, he arranged his clothing in the various fileboxes by content then by color, then arranged his shirts and uniforms in the same manner. It was at that moment when everything was situated to his liking that his father had made the comment about his 'unmentionables'.

*Woof*

Ben glanced over his shoulder towards the doorway of the office as he pushed another box into the far corner of the closet. Shaking his head slightly, he let a note of exasperation enter his voice. "No, Dief, I did not realize that you had left something of importance in the old apartment."

*Rowlf*

"What? Now?"

*Woof* Dief danced on his hind legs then shot back down the hallway in the direction of the massive front doors.

Ben dropped his chin until it rested on his chest. Sighing heavily, he rose to his feet and, grabbing his coat, followed the wolf to the doors. "Pay and pay and pay," he muttered.

The pair disembarked from the city bus at the corner where their apartment building had stood for many years. Ben sighed as he glanced up at the edifice that had been his home for more years than any other.

"Let's go, Dief," he finally uttered and started in the direction of the doorway but Dief had other plans. Dief barked sharply before sprinting in the direction of the old consulate. "Dief!" Ben called before racing after the wolf. If Diefenbaker heard him, he certainly didn't let on.

Past the old consulate and around the corner, Ben chased his errant wolf. He did not catch up with him until he found the wolf patiently waiting for him in front of a small deli. Raising his finger, he knelt beside the wolf and chided him for dragging him halfway across the city for a visit to a deli, no matter how friendly the proprietors had been.

Dief rolled his eyes before settling down on the sidewalk, his attention on the brownstone building across the street. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. Why had he dragged Alpha Male here today anyway? The answer to that question burst from the building followed by another male.

*Woof*

Ben's head swiveled sharply and he collapsed beside the wolf. Eyes followed the couple as they entered a dark colored sedan. Hungrily, he watched the car pull out from the small parking lot and speed away. Only then did he release the breath he'd been holding. Only then did it register whom he'd just seen. Only then did he feel the twin aches in his back and his heart. Only then did he drop his face into his hands and whisper her name, "Phil."

Jeff barged into Phil's office, and waved his hand toward the phone. "Phil, get off the phone! Rob is on the other line and he says it's an emergency!"

Momentarily stunned, Phil immediately spoke into the phone, "I'm sorry, Lexa, I've got an emergency here. I'll call you back." After further pleasantries, she disconnected and pressed the button for the other line. Anxiety and fear made her voice shriller than normal. "Rob? What is it? What's happened?"

"Where the hell is your cell phone? I've been trying to reach you for several minutes!" Rob's angry voice carried over the receiver.

"I don't carry it with me when I come to the office!" Phil flared back at him. "Is that what you called about--to yell at me for not carrying my cell phone?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone line as Rob took several deep breaths. When he spoke, his voice was calmer--more closely resembling his normal voice.

Phil listened for a moment, her eyes widening in alarm. "I'm on my way," she hastily spat into the receiver before dropping it back onto the cradle. Rising to her feet she glanced around her office almost in a panic.

"Phil? What's happened?" Jeff asked as she brushed past him and grabbed her coat.

"I don't know. It's TJ. He collapsed at work. Rob says he's being transported to the hospital in an ambulance and I should get up there. I've got to go, Jeff."

Jeff reached out and grasped her arm. "Are you all right, Phil? You're trembling like a leaf."

"It's TJ, Jeff. Something's happened to TJ." The fear was plain in her eyes and her voice shook.

"You're in no state to drive over there, Phil."

"I've got to go."

"I'll drive you. No arguments."

"But..."

"But nothing. Let me grab my jacket and tell Mark where we're going and we can leave."

Phil simply nodded her head and paced the outer office as Jeff grabbed his jacket and explained the situation to Mark. In no time at all they were in Jeff's car and within 20 minutes they were at Cook County Hospital.

Jeff parked the car and walked with Phil into the waiting area of the emergency room of the hospital. Rob was there waiting for them.

"Rob!" Phil cried as she hurried up to him.

"Flip, TJ's already here." He motioned toward a series of glass walled rooms that Phil knew from experience were the various treatment rooms. "I'm waiting on a report from Mark Green. Hi, Jeff." He extended his hand and shook Jeff's.

Phil glanced up at Jeff then back toward the treatment rooms. Patting Jeff on the arm, she spoke in a voice that still shook, "I'm okay now, Jeff. You can go back to the office. I'll let you and Mark know as soon as we hear something."

"Are you sure, Phil? I can stay here if you need me."

Phil smiled warmly at her friend. "Thanks, Jeff, but it's almost time to close up shop and I know you have something planned for this evening. Go on back. I promise I'll let you know as soon as we know something."

Jeff made his farewells leaving Phil with her brother. Rob escorted Phil down the hallway to the doctor's lounge. "We can wait in here. It's less hectic and more private."

Phil glanced around the spartan room before settling at a table. Rob fixed them both a cup of coffee and sat down across from her. "Before you start asking questions I can't answer, I'll tell you all that I know."

"What happened, Rob?" Phil asked disregarding what Rob had just said.

Rubbing a hand across his face, he stalled for time by taking a sip of his coffee. "All I know is that I got a call from TJ's secretary telling me that he'd collapsed and was in a great deal of pain. He didn't want her to call me but she did anyway. I sent the ambulance to the museum and it got back here about 10 minutes ago. TJ snarled at me as they wheeled him in but there really wasn't much venom in it. I'll probably catch hell from him later," Rob said with resignation in his voice.

"Probably," Phil agreed. "So now we wait?"

Rob's head bobbed in quick agreement. "Now we wait."

Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long. Dr. Mark Green, ER attending, strode into the lounge and dropped onto one of the chairs at the table where Phil and Rob sat. A metal patient chart clanged onto the surface of the table rattling the cups of coffee. "He's definitely your brother," he commented as he ran a hand over his thinning hair.

Rob chuckled slightly. "Gave you some problems?"

"Not as much as I'd anticipated. He's in considerable pain. It looks like a ruptured appendix but we can't be sure. The pain is diffuse and not localized. He also has peritonitis--probably trying to treat what he thought was indigestion."

"That sounds like TJ," Rob muttered.

"Anyway, I need you to sign these consent forms then I can send him up to surgery." He tapped the metal chart before pushing it toward Rob. Rob quickly signed them then passed them back.

"Can we see him?" Phil finally spoke up.

Mark glanced at both Rob and Phil then nodded his head. "You can wait with him until they come to take him to surgery. He's in Room 3."

Rob and Phil weaved their way through the chaos that was the emergency room toward the treatment room numbered 3. Rob knocked softly before opening the door and entering. Phil followed behind. Nurse Carol Hathaway was busy starting an IV and she smiled as they approached the exam table.

"TJ?" Phil was the first to speak.

"Hiya, Flip, what brings you here?" TJ spoke softly, his voice lacking its usual strength.

"Where else would I be?" she asked as she took his hand and brought it to her cheek. "The question is, what are you doing here?" she quipped.

"I was kidnapped and hauled down here for some nefarious purpose. I think they're going to harvest some of my organs," he stage whispered.

"Now, Mr. McKenzie, you know we couldn't do that! Not with your brother breathing down our necks," Carol joked as she finished the IV line.

"I guess I should be thankful for that," TJ said as sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"Yes, you should!" Phil remonstrated. "You should be thankful that Rob didn't let you fend for yourself. If you weren't already hurting I'd...I'd..."

"It's okay, Flip," Rob interrupted, "I'm used to being the mean older brother. And you," he glared down at TJ, "just what in hell did you think was happening? Don't you know better than to try and treat yourself? How long has this been going on? Why didn't you give me a call?"

"I'm sorry, Rob, I didn't think it was anything serious."

"Serious!" Rob exploded, "Serious! Who made you a doctor? Why didn't you let me decide how serious it was?"

"I didn't think..."

"No, you didn't!"

Phil jumped into the fray. "Okay, okay!!! That's enough! If both of you don't stop this right now I'll..."

"You'll do what?" Rob asked even as the same words left TJ's mouth.

"I don't know. I'll think of something. It's just that this isn't the time for you two to be arguing!" She glared at them as they exchanged guilty looks. "Now, shake hands and make up," she instructed.

Rob ran a hand through his hair before extending it toward TJ. TJ grasped it. Eyes locked, the two men shared a moment of understanding unique to brothers.

"That's better," Phil whispered tearfully.

"I hate to interrupt this but it's time to move up to surgery," Dr. John Carter spoke as he came through the doorway leading a gurney.

Phil and Rob stepped back as TJ was moved to the gurney. As he was wheeled out of the room he put out a hand. Phil clasped it. "I'll be okay, Flip, don't worry."

"I'll worry if I want to, TJ. I'll be praying for you as well." She bent over and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I love you, TJ," she whispered fighting to speak around the lump in her throat.

Rob simply shook his hand but the message in his eyes said it all. "We'll be here when you wake up, TJ," he said then stepped back as the gurney was wheeled through the doors and into the bowels of the hospital.

"Now what do we do?" Phil asked.

"We wait." Rob ran a hand through his hair then glanced down at his sister. "Would you like to grab a bite to eat? It's going to be a while before we can see him again."

Phil nodded her head and looped an arm through his. "Lead on, big brother."

"I want to stop by the office and give Beth a call. She should be home by now."

An hour later they entered the surgery waiting room. They had eaten a light meal and Rob had called his wife. Beth had called a babysitter and was on her way to the hospital to be with Rob and Phil. Unable to sit still, Phil paced from one end of the room to the other. She had thoroughly examined the small stand of greenery that occupied a corner of the room as well as scanning the titles of all the magazines. As she passed the large windows on each circuit, she stopped and stared out across the roof of the hospital finding only the large sanitation bins lining a small alleyway to be of interest. Each time someone came to the door, she whirled around expecting news about her brother. Each time the news was for someone else. Finally, she stalked over to where Rob had staked a claim to a sofa.

"I can't stand the waiting in here. I'm going to take a quick walk around the halls and be back in about 10 minutes. Do you think anything will happen by then?"

"Probably not, Flip. Go ahead and take your walk. If something happens, I either wait for you or send someone out after you. Okay?"

"Okay." Phil bent down and hugged her brother before leaving the waiting room. She stopped at the desk and inquired about TJ but the volunteer stationed there could give her no more information than she already had. Thanking the older woman, she turned and headed down the hallway not really looking where she was going. She soon found herself outside the small chapel. Pushing the door open, she entered the quiet room and tread softly down the aisle toward the plain wooden cross at the far end. Sliding onto a pew, she sat in silence for a moment then began to pray.

Time seemed to stand still as she sat in the quiet solitude of the chapel. Her thoughts were turned inward as she prayed for her brother's health and the surgeon's skill. She felt the peace of the room slowly invade her soul and she basked in its comfort, finding the peace within herself for which she'd been searching for so long. Instinctively, her thoughts turned from TJ to her other brother and she added him to her prayer along with his wife and kids. Lloyd entered her thoughts and she lifted him up as well. It was with no surprise that the next man that entered her thoughts was Ben. After a moment's hesitation, she added him to her prayers and as an afterthought, herself. She prayed for the courage to finally face him and settle the differences between them. She knew that there could never be any peace in her life until she had forgiven him. It was what might happen after that that twisted her stomach into a knot. Could she accept him back into her life or could she finally tell him goodbye and mean it?

Guiltily, she tore her thoughts away from the 'what might be's' and focused once more on her brother. Her stomach churned with fear and anxiety. She knew he was in the best of hands and that an appendectomy was routine surgery but this was her brother--her beloved TJ. What if something else was wrong? What if something went wrong? What if he died? What would she do if he died? Fear clutched at her heart as she drew in several ragged breaths of air then held them before letting them flow from her mouth. Here in this quiet chapel she had to believe that everything was going to be all right. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and continued praying for TJ.

A body settled onto the pew beside her and she opened her eyes and glanced sideways at the intruder. It was Beth, Rob's wife. She placed a hand over Phil's and squeezed them tightly.

"TJ's out of surgery and Rob's talking with the surgeon," Beth spoke in a low voice as she slid her arms around Phil's shoulders. "He sent me to find you. I thought I'd find you here."

"How's TJ?"

"I don't know. The doctor said the surgery went all right but anything more than that I can't tell you. You'll just have to wait for Rob."

"Then let's go and find him," Phil urged and the two women rose and left the chapel.

Rob was waiting for them in the surgery waiting room. He rose to his feet and joined them at the door. He directed them down the hallway. "TJ's in Recovery. He's doing fine. The surgery went smoothly. We can wait for him in his room and when they're through with him in Recovery, he'll be brought up to us there."

"What did they find?" Phil asked letting the anxiety flood her voice.

Rob punched the button for the elevator and held the doors open for Phil and his wife. Only after the doors were closed did he answer Phil's question. "He had a ruptured appendix. It seems TJ's appendix was abnormally long and lay across the small intestines. That's why there was no localized pain--no rebound tenderness. Anyway, it looks like it ruptured a couple of days ago and all that poison has been pumping into his abdominal cavity."

"How serious is that?" Beth asked.

"It's not good but they have him on strong antibiotics and that should knock out the infection. He's lucky in that gangrene hadn't set in."

The elevator chimed and slowed as it approached the next floor. Two orderlies entered the elevator and joined the threesome already there. Phil held her questions until either they left the elevator or she and her family left it. Grumbling inward, she urged the elevator to hurry. It chimed in answer to her plea and Rob motioned for them to leave its confining space. Beth and she followed Rob down the hallway and waited as he stopped at the nurse's desk for directions. Phil restrained herself from impatiently tapping her foot.

Finally, Rob turned to them and half hid a smile as he watched Phil. Motioning with his arm, he directed her and his wife down the hallway to the right. "TJ will be in room 2243. We can wait there."

"Dr. McKenzie?" a nurse called to him.

"Yes?" both Rob and Phil responded. Glancing at her brother, Phil turned away and let him speak to the nurse.

After a murmured conversation, he turned back and spoke, "TJ's awake and as soon as they check him over they will send him up."

"I'm home, Ma," Frannie called as she flung her velvet stole across the back of the highboy that stood in the entranceway of the Vecchio home. She twirled in place, humming a romantic tune.

"Ma's gone to bed. I said I'd wait up for you," Ray spoke from the door to the kitchen. He smeared a streak of flour across his face before wiping his hands on the apron he wore. "I'm baking the cookies for Danielle's birthday tomorrow."

"You're such a good uncle, Ray. You'll make a great daddy someday," Frannie spoke softly as she slid past him into the kitchen. The aroma of baking cookies was much stronger in here and she reached for a cooling cookie. Biting into it, she smiled with pure decadent pleasure. Twirling about, she grabbed Ray's hands pulling him up to her and began dancing to a tune she softly hummed.

Ray smiled tenderly down at his kid sister. Evidently her date had gone well. "So, who's the lucky man?" he asked. "Anybody I know?"

Frannie giggled infectiously. "He's really wonderful, Ray. So kind and considerate, so polite and, no, he isn't a Mountie," she answered the scowl that had started to darken Ray's features. "I've gotten over that, Ray, and, no, I'm not gonna tell you just yet who he is. I want to make sure first."

"Sure of what?" Ray spun Frannie away then pulled her back to him. Grasping her hand, he slid his other hand around to the small of her back and waltzed her across the kitchen and out into the hallway.

Frannie laughed, enjoying the company of her big brother. "I want to make sure he's the right man for me. I've wasted too much time on Benton and I don't want to jump into some other relationship on the rebound. If you know what I mean."

"I think I do, Frannie." Ray dipped her then smoothing brought her back up into his arms. "I'm glad you're over Benny. I knew all along that there was no future there for you. I didn't want to see you hurt." He kissed her forehead. "I care about you, Frannie."

"I love you, too, Ray. I guess I finally realized what you'd been telling me all along when I visited Phil. You know you weren't the first one to tell me about her."

"I wasn't?" Ray asked as he waltzed Frannie back in the direction of the kitchen. A small dinging emanated from a timer set to alert him of his cookies in the oven. "Hold that thought," he said as he released her and opened the oven. Drawing forth the cookie sheet, he sat it on a rack in the middle of the kitchen table. Smiling proudly at the collection of sugar cookies, he grinned at Frannie and asked, "Would you like to help me decorate them?"

"I'd love to," she agreed. In all the years that Ray had baked cookies for his nieces' and nephews' birthdays, he had never let anyone help him. It was something special that he did for them and it was an honor to be asked to help.

"Let me change my clothes and I'll be right back," she tossed over her shoulder as she raced from the kitchen and up the stairs.

Ray gazed lovingly after his sister. He hoped whoever it was that Frannie was seeing was a good man and would appreciate the jewel she was. He had warned her about that loser of a first husband and he wasn't about to see her make that same mistake twice. But...he did know his sister and he would just have to bide his time before finding out who this new beau was. Maybe he would ask Maria or Ma. Maybe one of them would know who it was that had Frannie's eyes all aglow.

Shifting gears, he whistled softly as he removed the cooled cookies from the cookie sheet. The colored icing was set out as were the various vials of sprinkles, colored sugar, and other goodies. He loved Maria's children and making these birthday cookies was just one small way of showing that love. Someday he hoped to do the same for Frannie's children. A fleeting thought crossed his mind and he wondered if Benny's future children would love his cookies as well.

Ben stared at the computer screen and the information plaster across it for anyone to see--anyone who took the time and effort to search for said information. Public records did not lie yet this record bore the tale of lies and cover-ups. BakTrak, Inc. had been incorporated over 8 years earlier. It's owner of record: Dr. Philippe H.S. McKenzie whose city of residence was noted as Chicago, IL.

Phil lived here in Chicago not in Colorado as he'd assumed. Why had she failed to correct that assumption? Why had she not wanted him to know that she lived in the same city as he? Was she afraid that he would rush over and camp on her doorstep until she gave him an answer? He had half a mind to do exactly that!

Angrily, he rose from his desk and flung open the door of the closet. His hand unerringly found his heavy coat.

"Going somewhere?" the familiar voice drifted to him from the depths of his closet.

Ben's hand fell to his side then rose and pushed aside the clothes hanging in the closet. Ben's father sat in a rocking chair in front of the large pot-bellied stove that occupied a large corner of his 'office'. A mug of steaming tea was held in his hands and the stem of a large Meerschaum pipe clenched in his teeth.

"Since when did you start smoking?" Ben asked as he held his clothes aside and entered the office.

Motioning with a hand toward the other rocking chair, Bob replied, "Well, since I'm already dead, I don't think I have to worry about its deleterious effects on my health."

"What about the others around you? You have heard of second-hand smoke?"

"Everyone else is dead as well...except for you that is."

"I see your point, Dad, and I guess I needn't worry about its effects on my health either since it isn't real anyway," Ben muttered as he settled into the other chair.

"That's the spirit, Son," Bob replied as he rose and poured another cup of tea from the pot sitting at the back of the stove. He handed it to Ben then returned to his rocker.

Ben skeptically accepted the tea and took a small sip. He was surprised by the full-bodied flavor of the 'imaginary' brew. "This is good!" he finally said.

"Not everything is what it seems, Benton," Bob cryptically replied.

"I have a feeling you mean more than just the tea."

Bob shrugged his shoulders laconically and drew heavily on his pipe. Grasping the bowl of the pipe in his hand, he motioned toward the shared closet. "Where were you going in such an all fired hurry?"

Sullenly, Ben replied, "I have some business to take care of, not that that should concern you."

Bob nodded his head and steadily rocked back and forth. Finally, he spoke, "Do you recall when your grandparents first moved to Inuvik?"

"Inuvik?"

"Do you remember the misunderstanding that developed between you and that other boy--what's his name, Mike...Mark..."

"Smithbauer, Mark Smithbauer."

"Yes, that's the one. Do you recall what happened?"

Knowing that his father would not get to the point until he had complied with his wishes, Ben delved into his memories letting his thoughts wing back to the time when he'd been the new kid in school and had inadvertently gotten off on the wrong foot with the school bully. He devised many different routes to get to and from school in order to avoid the confrontation with the kid who was nearly twice his size. He'd managed fairly well for two weeks until that evening when he'd cut across the large pond on the edge of town. It was there that Smithbauer had finally caught up with him. Fearful of the fight that he knew was coming and the explanations that would have to be made to his grandparents, he'd tried to talk himself out of the confrontation. Smithbauer had looked at him funnily then asked if he played hockey. Two weeks of worry and fright over meeting up with the school bully had dissolved into a friendship that had lasted through high school.

"I fail to see what that has to do with my plans," Ben finally pointed out.

"What you perceived as a threat from the school bully was actually an invitation to play hockey. Things were not what they seemed and that applies to what you are about to do now."

"And that would be?"

"Hunt down Phil McKenzie and demand a reckoning from her."

"How...how did you know?" Ben stammered.

"I have my ways," Bob cryptically replied.

"But she lied..."

"You didn't ask," Bob interrupted Ben. "She has her reasons for wishing to remain at a distance from you. Son, you must tread carefully around her until she's ready to move on. If you push her too hard you may lose what you are trying to recapture."

Ben dropped his head into his hands. "But it has been nearly two months. How much longer must I wait?"

"As long as it takes," Bob softly answered. "Don't worry, Son, there are forces moving in her life that will bring her to the point where she will contact you. But," he paused dramatically, "if you force her hand you might not like the answer she gives you. Be patient, Son, be patient."

Ben swallowed the last of his tea and rose to his feet. "All right, Dad, I'll wait for little bit more but I'm getting tired of waiting for that second chance. I don't know how long I can continue like this."

"You'll continue as long as it takes, Benton, as long as it takes. In the meantime, why don't you give your sister a call and let her know about your change in circumstances."

Guiltily, he nodded his head. "I guess I should call and let her know about the fire."

"I think that would be wise," Bob sagely added.

Ben nodded his head resignedly, then returned to his own office. Settling behind his desk, he reached for the phone. He should have made this call days earlier and he knew Becka would be a bit angry with him for waiting till the last minute to call her. He mentally prepared himself for the discussion he was about to have with his sister. Sighing, he wondered what else could go wrong.

"You can grumble all you want, TJ. It don't change a thing. The only way you're going to be released early is if you have someone to take care of you. If you go back to your place, you'll be on your own. If you accept Flip's offer, there'll be someone close at hand." Rob stood at the foot of TJ's bed, arms crossed. "It's your decision and," he paused, "it's only for a week."

"I'm sorry, Rob, it's just that I can't stand the idea of Flip fawning over me for a whole week." He shuddered in distaste. "As much as I love her, when she gets in her 'mother hen' mode..."

"She has promised not to..."

"And you believed her?"

"Well...no," Rob finally replied.

"Exactly," TJ answered evenly before dropping back against his pillows. "So...I'm confined here for another week unless I agree to stay with Flip."

"You make that sound like such an ordeal," Phil commented from the door of the room.

"It is," both men answered in unison.

"I'm hurt, really I am," she said as she grimaced at her brothers. Coming up to the side of the bed, she sat the insulated container she carried on the bedside table. Taking one TJ's hand in hers, she asked, "Is the prospect of staying with me for a few days really that bad?"

"Under normal circumstances...no," TJ spoke softly, "but when you're in your..."

"'Mother hen' mode, I know," she acknowledged with raised hands. "I heard you before I came in," she answered the unasked question in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Flip. I didn't mean for you to hear that," TJ apologized.

"Nothing to apologize for, TJ." Chuckling slightly, she continued, "It's the truth. I'm sorry, I can't help it."

"That's okay, Flip. If you weren't, I'd be worried about you."

"So, where does that leave us?" Rob spoke up.

"What if I promise not to bother you too much? " Phil asked. Both Rob and TJ turned their intent stares upon her. "Okay, point taken." She thought for a moment then suggested, "What if I don't take off work to stay with you? I could go on to work and still only be a couple of floors away. I could check on you at lunch time--fix you something." She warmed to the idea.

"You wouldn't be there during the day? Only at nights?" TJ asked, skepticism clear in his voice.

"If anything came up, you could give me a call. It only takes a couple of minutes from my office to the apartment."

Rob joined the conversation. "I think that's the best offer you're going to get, TJ, and it's the only way you're getting out of here before the week is over."

"You promise you won't get too overbearing?" TJ asked of Phil.

Phil swept a finger over her heart, crossing it, then held the finger at shoulder level. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle..."

"Okay, okay, I get the message." TJ sighed heavily before giving in. "How soon can we get out of here?"

"I'll check with David but I should think he'll let you go tomorrow," Rob replied.

"Good 'cause I'm getting sick of hospital food."

Phil visibly brightened. "I have just the thing for you," she said as she opened the insulated contained she'd brought with her. The room immediately filled with the aroma of Chinese take-out. "I brought you something but since you've been so mean to me, I think I'll take it home instead."

"Not if you value your hide," TJ roared as he grabbed for Phil.

"C'mon, Elaine, you can do better than this!" Stan smiled as he waltzed the Civilian Aide away from the coffee machine.

"Let go of me, Stan!" Elaine laughed as she futilely pushed against his chest with her hands, hampered as they were with two cups of coffee.

"Okay," Stan finally agreed, "but the next dance is mine."

"In your dreams, baby, in...your...dreams," she spoke with a lowered voice as she waggled her eyebrows.

"Whoa! Watch it with that coffee! What's gotten into you?" Ray asked from the doorway as Elaine brushed past him.

"Nothing's the matter with me but," cocking her head towards Stan, she spoke in a stage whisper, "him? I don't know..."

Ray watched Stan waltz an imaginary partner around the small room shaking his head as the 'dance' came to an end with a dramatic dip. Just as Stan puckered his lips to deliver a kiss to his imaginary partner, Ray spoke up, "You better not let Welsh see you or you might find yourself scheduled for a psych evaluation."

Startled, Stan stumbled and would have fallen to the floor except for the table that conveniently broke his fall. "Hey, man, don't do that! Nearly gimme a heart attack," he mumbled as he ran a hand through his hair rearranging his spikes.

Ray raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "It ain't me that's acting weird!"

"Ya calling me weird?"

Raking Stan's jean clad figure with his eyes, Ray shrugged elegantly as he picked at an imaginary speck of lint on the lapel of his suit. "If the shoe fits..."

Ray glanced down at his grey T-shirt and faded jeans. "Something wrong with my clothes?" he asked.

Ray gestured with his hands and snidely commented, "Well nothing," his eyes raked over Stan once more, "if you're a bag lady." Stan rolled his eyes.

Placing a hand to his chest, Ray continued, "You see, I have a rep--I am a slick dresser."

Stung by the putdown, Stan retaliated. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, like a," he searched for the right word, "like a, a style pig, ya mean."

Ray forced a chuckle. "You kill me, funny guy. I see it's going to take a lot of work to keep my reputation in place."

"And just what does that mean?"

"It simply means that between Fraser's 'Dudley Do Right' and your 'Punks 'R Us' style of dressing, someone has to maintain a little dignity."

"And that someone is you?"

Spreading his hands, Ray grinned. "If the shoe fits..."

Glancing down at Ray's feet, Stan let a smile spread across his face. "And it's such a big shoe at that," he slyly commented as he pushed past Ray and headed down the hallway in the direction of the bullpen.

Ray glanced down at the dark brown wingtips, then spun on his heels and followed Stan. "What did you mean by that?" he tossed at Stan's retreating back.

"Ya said it, man. If the shoe fits..." Stan hustled through the doors to the bullpen leaving Ray fuming.

"I ain't got a big foot," he muttered as he pushed through the doors as well. He stopped almost immediately. Seated on his desk with her legs crossed, showing a considerable amount of thigh was his sister, Francesca. He didn't know what disgusted him the most: Frannie's obvious display of her 'charms' or Stan's obvious enjoyment of those same 'charms.' Ray had seen it before. Some poor shmuck would catch Frannie's eye and she would go all out to attract his attention. For the past couple of years, that poor shmuck had been Fraser but now it seemed that she had shifted her attentions in a different direction. A frown deepened the furrows that creased his brow. Was his baby sister making a play for his partner? What had happened to the new guy that she was dating? Maybe he should have a talk with them--set the matter straight. But then again, he could be completely wrong. He headed over to the desks in the corner observing the interactions between Frannie and Stan.

"Oh hi, Ray," Frannie said as she slid from his desk and pulled at the hem of her skirt.

Ray glanced from her face to that of Stan's but Stan had turned his back on them and was rifling through a drawer in his desk muttering something about losing a box of Twinkies. Turning his attention back to his sister, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Placing hands on hips, Frannie glared at Ray. "I came to see if you've found my car."

"Why didn't you ask me that at home? You didn't have to come all the way down here."

"I forgot, so sue me," Frannie spoke around the gum that popped and crackled in her mouth.

"Is that all you wanted?" Ray added with evident irritation in his voice.

"No, Ma wanted me to remind you to pick up Uncle Lorenzo after work. It's his day at the senior center and Ma wants you to pick him up and bring him home for dinner."

"Why don't you do that?"

"Fine! Gimme your keys."

"My keys?"

"Yeah, your keys. How do you expect me to pick him up?"

"You are not driving my car."

"Well, Mr. Smarty Pants Detective, until you find my car its either that or you pick up Uncle Lorenzo."

Realizing he'd been maneuvered into doing exactly what Frannie wanted, Ray ungraciously conceded defeat. "Oh, all right! I'll pick up Uncle Lorenzo. Was there anything else?"

"As a matter of fact, there is." She stepped aside so that she could see Stan. "Ma wants you to come to dinner as well, Stan. Can you make it?"

Stan's head snapped up and he momentarily looked confused. "Uh...I dunno, Frannie, I got..."

"Ma won't take no for an answer. So, if your answer is no then you'll have to tell her 'cause I ain't gonna be the one to tell her."

Running a hand over his face, Stan slowly nodded his head. "All right. What time?"

"Sevenish?"

"Seven's cool."

"Remember to pick up Uncle Lorenzo, Ray," she spoke once more to her brother. Smiling at Stan, she spoke in a gentler voice, "I'll see you this evening, Stan."

"I'm good."

Frannie smiled once more before strutting across the bullpen and out the doors.

The afternoon faded windy and clear as the foul weather of the past week moved eastward. In its wake, a ridge of high pressure moved across the Great Lakes bringing clear but cooler weather. It was a welcome change to the wet weather of the previous week and many a person had made plans to enjoy the fair weather over the weekend but the ridge had stalled and only now moved south.

Anticipating a long weekend, Phil had brought work home from the office planning on going over the applications for the position of climb leader that had been advertised in several climbing magazines and over the internet. So far, the search had been unproductive producing a large number of responses of which only a small number were truly qualified and only a handful of those met the requirements for the position. Maybe tomorrow and a new batch of mail at the office would bring someone suitable.

Phil hummed as she poured the batter into a pan then placed it in the oven. Setting the timer, she then reached for the kettle filling it with water and setting it on the stove. Her thoughts turned to her brother. Three days he'd stayed with her and he seemed to be recuperating well. However, he just didn't seem to have that lively spark that he'd always had. It was like something was overshadowing him--something that depressed his spirits. Or maybe, she was just imagining it. After all, he'd just left the hospital after having surgery and it was only natural that he not be at his best. Still, there was something about his demeanor that bothered her. When the teapot began to whistle, she poured the hot water over the tea in the ceramic teapot she favored.

A muffled "Evening" reached her and glancing over her shoulder, she watched TJ enter the kitchen and settle on one of the stools at the bar. "Evening yourself," she softly answered as she removed 2 mugs and filled them with fresh tea. Opening the refrigerator door, she placed a lemon on a cutting board beside the honey decanter.

"Is that banana bread I smell?" TJ asked hopefully as he prepared his cup of tea.

"Banana nut bread--made just for you," Phil corrected as she settled onto the stool beside her brother. "It's got another 30 minutes before it's done so you'll just have to wait."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Suffer!" Phil laughed.

"You know, Flip, you have a sadistic streak in you."

Phil laughed again before replying, "Why don't you take your tea into the living room and I'll fix you a 'real' dinner--bacon and eggs?"

TJ seemed to perk up at the mention of real food. "Hash browns?" he asked.

"Oh, all right, but just because it's you," Phil added with mock sarcasm in her voice. She knew that bacon and eggs was one of her brother's favorites.

After TJ left, Phil busied herself with putting together a meal for the two of them. Soon the apartment was filled with the aroma of frying bacon. The timer dinged and Phil removed the banana bread placing it on a rack to cool. As the hash browns and then the eggs were finished, she placed them on plates and added the bacon. Carrying them into the dining area, she placed them on the table and waited for TJ to sit down. Taking his mug, she said, "I'll just fix you some more tea."

"I'd rather have coffee."

"I know you would but you know what Rob said, 'no coffee for at least a week.'"

"I don't see why not."

"You drink too much of it, that's why! So you'll get tea while you're here."

TJ nodded briefly before tucking into the meal. As he chewed his eyes settled on the wall of photos opposite him. His eyes roved over the small collection finally fastening on the sole image of Ben Fraser only it wasn't Ben his mind's eye saw. Sighing, he wondered what Becka was doing and if her situation had improved any from when he'd last seen her. He wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her. With a start, he realized that Phil had returned and had asked him a question.

"I'm sorry, Flip, my mind was elsewhere."

"I could see that! I asked you what were you thinking about," Phil replied as she sat down on her chair and scooted it closer to the table.

TJ bowed his head for a moment, then began eating once more. "I was thinking about how great it is to have someone to care for me when I'm sick."

"Yeah, well if you'd take my advice you'd find yourself a nice girl and get married. Then she could take care of you!" Meant as a jest, Phil was stunned by the response she received. TJ's fork clattered noisily onto his plate as he quickly glanced away. "TJ?" she asked as she watched him swallow convulsively then look back at her. From his expression, she knew she'd somehow hit a little too close to home. His eyes then dropped to stare at the plate of food before him.

"What is it, TJ?" she asked again. "Have you found someone?"

"Yes," he sadly replied as he picked up his fork and began stirring his eggs and hash browns together.

Phil watched as TJ made a mess of his breakfast, not too concerned about it because that's what he normally did. What concerned her the most was the melancholy tenor with which he spoke. If he'd found the right woman to finally replace Noelle in his heart then shouldn't he be happy? Shouldn't he be shouting it at the top of his lungs?

"That's wonderful, TJ," she began, "who is she?"

TJ finally lifted his eyes to stare at Phil. Resignedly, he said, "It doesn't matter, Flip. There are complications...situations..."

"Is she already married?" Her voice was husky with concern.

"No."

"Then what's the problem? Surely you could..."

"It's family," TJ replied not wishing to continue this conversation.

"What? Her family or yours?" Phil asked sharply.

"Both." TJ's voice was barely above a whisper. Louder, he continued, "Let's just say that her brother's--for lack of a better word, her brother's love life--is at a critical point. Until he has some kind of resolution, either yea or nay, we can't be together. And if it's nay then I'm afraid there will be nothing for me because Bec..." he caught himself, "she will not desert her brother."

Phil reached across the table and placed a hand on one of his. "I'm so sorry, TJ. I hope things work out for you."

"What about you?" TJ shot back at her.

The hand flew from TJ's to rest at the base of her throat. "What do you mean?" Dropping the hand, she reached for her mug of tea.

Motioning with his fork toward the wall of photos, he asked, "What are you going to do about Ben?"

"Ben?" she squeaked as she sputtered tea across her plate.

"Yes, Ben. Isn't it about time you settled things once and for all with him?"

"You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly, Flip, I just didn't want to believe it. Do you get some sadistic kind of pleasure in leaving him hanging...waiting for some kind of crumb from you? If you don't love him then tell him so! What you're doing to him is just plain mean-spirited of you." He knew he was being cruel but sometimes that's what it took to get through her stubborn pride.

"Me? What I'm doing to him? What about what he did to me?"

Placing his hands flat on the table, TJ rose to his feet. "Get...over...it, Flip. That happened years ago. I'm tired of you dragging that same old argument up over and over again. If you can't let go of the past then for heaven's sake let the man go! How many times does he have to beg your forgiveness before you'll let go of that albatross around your neck?"

"But...but..."

"No buts, Flip, you've spent so much time wallowing in your own self-pity that you haven't given a thought to what your actions are doing to others--to Ben, to me, to anyone that cares about you. Once and for all, Flip, if you don't love him then tell him so. A clean break is so much better than the agonizing wound you're leaving across his soul...and yours. Just tell him goodbye."

Phil's hands dropped into her lap and she bowed her head. "I can't, TJ."

"I didn't hear you."

Phil's eyes rose to regard her brother. "I can't let him go, TJ."

"Then you'd better get your act together. Get rid of that guilt-trip you've been laying on him for years. If you love him, you can't hang onto that forever. It would eventually destroy both of you. Just look at what it's doing to you now?"

"I know," she whispered tearfully.

"I love you, Flip. Promise me you'll talk to Ben soon. Either straighten things out between you or tell him goodbye. You can't have it both ways. You have got to let that story end. It's up to you what kind of ending it will be but end it must."

Phil nodded her head, "I promise, TJ. I'll talk to Ben as soon as you're better."

TJ returned to his chair and dug into his food once more. "Good!" was all he said.

Phil was not one to let things lay. She took a bite of her food and after swallowing it, asked, "What about your situation? Surely you aren't just going to leave it like it is."

"I have no choice in the matter, Flip."

"That is just so not like you. Where's the brother I used to know?"

"He's still here, just a little tired."

"Promise me you'll try to straighten out your situation as well," Phil challenged.

Staring her straight in the eye, TJ promised, "I promise you, Flip, once you've straightened out your mess I'll deal with mine. Okay?"

"Okay."

Later after the dishes were cleaned, the banana bread eaten, and an episode of X-Files watched; Phil decided it was time to go to bed. The conversation at dinner had taken its toll on her and she felt weary beyond her years.

"Good night, TJ, you sure you don't need anything?"

"Flip, stop hovering! I'm fine. If I need something, I can handle it. Go on and go to bed. You've got an important meeting tomorrow."

"Night, TJ...I love you."

TJ barely shook his head before sighing heavily. "I love you, too, Flip, now go." He pointed in the direction of her office.

"Chance, you coming with me?" she asked of the black cat firmly ensconced on TJ's lap. The cat stretched, arching his back, and yawning widely but he did not move from his spot. "Ungrateful cat," she muttered before heading to bed.

Climbing between the sheets on the small daybed, she turned off the light and composed her thoughts for sleep. Worry for her brother nagged at her and followed her into slumber. It was with little surprise that she found herself wandering in a fog-shrouded meadow with her brother by her side. As the fog cleared, she realized that she must have been arguing with TJ over something. What it was escaped her until TJ glanced her way and said, "It won't go away, Flip, no matter how much you try to suppress it, it won't go away. Sooner or later, you have to face your feelings about Ben and make a decision. You can't go on like this."

"I know, TJ, it's just that I don't want to make the same mistake I made years ago."

"And just what mistake is that?"

"Giving my heart to someone I can't trust."

"What does he have to do to earn your trust once more?"

Phil hesitated before answering, "I don't know, TJ, I honestly don't know."

"Then you'd better find out before your second chance passes. You won't get another one."

A noise startled her and Phil spun about to see what it was. She immediately spied the noble white stallion racing toward her but it was the red clad figure that drew her attention. Her heart beat furiously in her chest as he bore down on her and with a start she recognized Ben, his eyes burning right through to her soul.

Clutching the reins with his left hand he brandished a brilliant blue axe in his right. If it had been any other man she would have been terrified but this was Ben and he had never frightened her. Hurt her, yes, but never frightened her. In her heart, Phil knew she wanted him to sweep her up in his arms and take her away to a place where the past did not matter. As the horse drew level with her, Phil eyes were drawn to the hand that held the axe. It seemed unsubstantial, almost phantomlike, and she shifted her gaze, seeking Ben's eyes. It was important that she let him know that she had been waiting for him to come for her. But it was no longer Ben on the horse.

In his place sat a woman, dressed in the same red dress serge of the RCMP. Her face bore Ben's deep blue eyes and warm, gracious smile. With a start, Phil recognized Ben's sister, Becka. The axe was gone from the hand that reached down in her direction but it was not to Phil she reached. TJ brushed by her and in one graceful swoop, Becka swung him up on the saddle behind her.

TJ stared down at Phil from the back of the horse. He spoke once more, "Flip, there are no third chances. You have to make a decision soon." Some signal passed between Becka and him and she hastily turned the horse around and rode off into the distance.

Glancing in the direction taken by Becka and TJ, Phil searched for a sign of Ben. Faint pain gnawed at her heart. The words TJ had spoken burned across her thoughts and she searched for Ben but he had left her again, just when she thought he was coming for her. She didn't want to feel that pain again. She had to get away from the hurt. Like trying to swim in quicksand, Phil fought her way to the surface, away from the pain. Away from Ben.

Phil took a deep breath and turned over onto her back, flinging one arm over her head. She had had this dream before and it was as disturbing now as it had been that other time. She was fully awake now and she knew from experience that it would be awhile before she fell back asleep. Throwing the covers back, she slipped on her robe and slippers then headed toward the kitchen. She would fix herself a cup of hot chocolate then head back to bed.

A few minutes later, she stood in the doorway of her bedroom. Wan moonlight shed a faint light to the room as it spilled across the bed and the man sleeping there. If TJ's sleep was disturbed by dreams it wasn't evident to the woman standing in the doorway. Sipping her hot chocolate, she pondered the meaning of the dream she'd had. She vividly recalled TJ's explanations of the symbolism when she'd told him of the first dream. She definitely would not tell him about the dream's reoccurrence. However, one part of the dream now made sense to her. The woman on the horse that had claimed TJ then rode off into the sunset was not Cat but Becka Fraser. Why would she dream something like that? She barely knew the woman and TJ had most certainly never met her. She suddenly recalled the slip he'd made at dinner. He'd called the woman he loved, Bec, then had changed it to 'she'. Could the woman her brother professed to love, the one with the complications, the one with the brother be Becka Fraser?

She chuckled mirthlessly to herself. She was just letting her imagination get the better of her. Still, the repetition of the dream bothered her and she wondered why her subconscious mind had dredged it up in the first place. Why would she dream of Ben's sister running away with her brother? Was she substituting them for Ben and her? Or was there something happening that she was unaware of?

Confused, she turned and strolled back to the kitchen placing the dirty cup in the sink and running some water in it. She made her way back to her bed in her office but when she finally fell asleep, it was disturbed by images that teased her memories but never solidified into something she could readily grasp or understand. She only knew that Ben was no longer the sole source of her confusion. TJ had now joined him.

"Constable Fraser?"

Ben quickly backed out of the closet, sparing his father a look that spoke volumes. "Yes, Turnbull," he spoke as he snapped to attention.

"Sir, I believe the Inspector has been looking for you. She said that she had stopped by your office earlier but you weren't here."

"Oh dear," Ben murmured mentally wondering how he would ever survive living in his office with his father's ghost only a closet away. Honestly, it seemed like Bob Fraser had nothing better to do than disrupt Ben's life. What had he done to deserve this?

"Constable Fraser?" Turnbull inquired once more.

Ben's thought snapped back from where they had momentarily drifted. "I'm sorry, Turnbull, I guess I've been a bit distracted lately. I must report my dereliction of duty to the Inspector immediately."

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary, sir. No indeedy! I'm quite sure that the Inspector is aware of how distracting your situation is and will make allowances for it. If I may make a suggestion, sir," Turnbull's added.

Glancing at the door of the closet, Ben spoke, "I am open to any suggestions, Turnbull. I just don't know if there is a solution to my problem."

"Well, sir, I just put the finishing touches on a dinner that I am preparing for the Inspector since she is working late this evening. There is more than enough food available to prepare you a meal as well. Really, it is no trouble and I know that you have not made use of the kitchen facilities since moving into your office."

"I didn't..."

"I understand, sir, but the fact remains that you are in need of a nourishing meal and I happen to have one available."

"But..."

"No buts, sir. I will either serve your meal here or you may enjoy it in the kitchen or the dining room. Your choice."

A bit surprised by this stauncher side of the other constable, Ben asked, "Where will the Inspector be eating?"

"She is planning on eating in her office. She really works too hard," Turnbull added as an afterthought.

"She is a stickler for detail, Turnbull, but she is an excellent officer." Ben fleetingly wondered if he'd actually heard a touch of concern in Turnbull's voice.

"Oh, I couldn't agree more, sir. I feel most fortunate to work with her and you as well," he hastily added.

Ben smiled in acknowledgment then returned to the former discussion. "If the Inspector is dining in her office then I will eat in the kitchen. There isn't much room in here for that."

Turnbull rubbed his hands together. "Good. Dinner will be ready in approximately one hour. Shall I call you when it's ready?"

"That would be fine, Turnbull." Turnbull turned to go but stopped and turned back around when Ben spoke once more. "And, Turnbull, thank you kindly."

"Thanks aren't necessary, sir. It's nothing more than what anyone would do for a friend."

A smile spread across Ben's face and felt a warmth settle into the region of his heart. "Nevertheless, thank you for your thoughtfulness."

Turnbull smiled shyly before answering, "You're welcome, sir."

An hour later Ben found himself seated at a table in what would have been called a breakfast nook in a smaller home. Here the table was centered in a small glass enclosed alcove that jutted out into the gardens. It was almost like dining outside. This was the first time Ben had eaten at this table but he was quite sure that it would not be his last. If he had known of the unique attractions of this room he would have eaten his other meals here as well. 'Maybe not,' he told himself. He was only a temporary guest in the building-not free to use anything that caught his fancy. Still the small dining area was the most pleasant spot he'd discovered in the old mansion.

Turnbull calling to him disturbed Ben's reveries. "Ben...may I call you Ben?" he asked, trepidation entering his voice.

"You may most certainly call me Ben when we are not on duty but only if you allow me to call you Ren or do you prefer Renfield?"

"Ren is fine," Turnbull answered then motioned with his hands towards the feast sitting on the stove and serving areas. "There's roast chicken, a green salad, peas and new potatoes in a cream sauce, fresh bread, rice pilaf, and a variety of relishes. I have also prepared a raspberry tart for dessert. Inspector Thatcher favors them," he spoke almost to himself, then continued, "Serve yourself, Ben, while I put together a tray for the Inspector."

Ben piled a plate high with Turnbull's feast not for the first time wondering how Turnbull had become such a good cook. He must ask him sometime. Taking his laden plate to the small table in the glass alcove, he watched Turnbull put the finishing touches on a tray that was obviously meant for their superior officer. He placed a bud vase on the tray and then turned to the refrigerator, opening the door and removing a single long-stemmed red rose. The rose went into the bud vase and Turnbull carried the tray from the kitchen, humming as he went.

Ben dipped into his repast discovering he had a ravenous appetite. A click-click noise alerted him to Dief's presence long before the wolf entered the kitchen and made a beeline to the table where Ben now sat. Putting on his best 'starving wolf' look, he waited patiently for Alpha Male to share the bounty with him.

Ben glanced sideways at the wolf then shook his head. "You are not getting any of this, Diefenbaker. You have a full bowl of that special blend of kibble that the veterinarian prepares for you."

*Woof*

"I am not arguing with you. You are getting fat and it's time for you to cut out the junk food and the snacks that are not good for your constitution."

"Well, hello, Diefenbaker," Turnbull greeted the wolf.

Dief quickly deserted Ben and sped to Turnbull's side. Settling on his haunches, he lifted a paw.

Turnbull smiled and grasped the paw and shook it. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked the wolf.

*Rowlf*

"Well, we simply cannot have that. I'll fix you a plate immediately!"

"Turnbull...Ren...Dief is on a diet. He has plenty of food in his dish," Ben pointed out.

"Nonsense, Ben, I'll just fix Diefenbaker a nice healthy selection of tidbits. After all, he is Canadian and we cannot allow a fellow Canadian to go hungry or eat 'common' food when there is plenty of this available." Turnbull waved a hand over the laden serving area. A plate was soon filled with chicken, rice, potatoes, and a slice of bread. Placing it on the floor for Dief, Turnbull then prepared another plate. He carried that one across the kitchen towards the glass alcove where Ben dined. "May I join you?" Ben motioned toward the chair opposite him and Turnbull slid his lean frame onto it.

Only then did Ben notice the small details that had not been evident before. Turnbull's hair looked as if it had been hastily patted back down after having been disturbed by a small tornado. His lanyard, although correctly placed, was slightly askew and twisted as well. However, the most damaging piece of evidence was the dark red smear that edged Turnbull's lower lip. It was the exact same shade as the lipstick that Inspect...

Ben's fork slipped from his hand and clattered to his plate. The quick indrawn breath was a mistake as he choked on the rice he had been eating and began to cough. Turnbull sprang to his feet and rushed around the table to pat Ben on the back. Murmurs of solicitous concern were interspersed with the pats.

Ben finally caught his breath and waved Turnbull away. "I'm okay, Ren," he said between coughs. "I just inhaled some rice."

"Are you certain?"

Ben nodded his head as he reached for his glass of milk. "This is an excellent meal, Ren. You have really outdone yourself."

Turnbull beamed with pleasure but before he could speak, Inspector Thatcher strode into the kitchen.

"Ren?" she called.

Both Turnbull and Ben rose to their feet. Thatcher appeared momentarily flustered but that quickly passed. Speaking to Ben, she said, "Constable Fraser, I'm sorry to have disturbed your dinner."

"You have not disturbed anything, Inspector," Ben quickly assured her.

"Nevertheless, I will leave and let you finish your dinner." She turned to leave.

"Sir?" Ben called to her. He noticed the quick shift of eyes from him to Turnbull. "Sir? Since your are also eating your dinner, why don't you join us here? The view is lovely and a meal shared among friends is better than a meal alone." He couldn't believe himself. He'd just invited his superior officer to join Turnbull and himself for dinner. He'd even intimated that they also shared a friendship. He had absolutely no idea how she would react to both suggestions.

Thatcher glanced from Ben to Turnbull then made up her mind. "I'd love to join you, that is if you really don't mind?"

"Of course not, sir!" Turnbull exclaimed. "I'll just run and get your tray and bring it back here." He hurried from the kitchen before either Ben or Thatcher could stop him.

An awkward moment passed before Ben mentally shook himself and drew out a chair from the table. Motioning toward it, he indicated that Thatcher should take a seat. When she settled onto the chair, he gently nudged it forward.

"Thank you," she said over her shoulder.

"You're welcome," he replied.

Turnbull returned with the tray that contained her dinner. He placed the bud vase in the center of the table before refreshing her plate and handing it to her. Smiling, she accepted it and began eating. Turnbull returned to his seat and the three of them ate in silence for a few minutes. No one knew who actually started the conversation but soon they were talking and sharing some of the little incidents that had occurred during the day. Talk turned to Ben's situation and it was with some trepidation that he told of his inability to find another apartment that accepted pets.

Thatcher's eyes roamed over the gardens visible through the windows of the dining area in the dwindling daylight. Her glance turned toward the rear of the consulate grounds. She could just make out the faint outline of the cottage located there. An idea occurred to her and a smile spread across her face.

"Constable, I believe I have the perfect solution to your problem."

"Sir?" Ben queried.

Using a fork, she pointed in the direction of the cottage. Both Ben and Turnbull turned to gaze in the direction she indicated. Not quite understanding what she meant, Ben turned back to her for clarification.

"That's a splendiferous idea, Meg," Turnbull gushed.

'Meg?' Ben wondered.

"I think so, too, Ren. What about you, Constable?"

'Ren?' Ben added to his unasked questions. He noticed that both Thatcher and Turnbull were staring at him. Coughing, he sought to cover up his inattentiveness. "What was that you were saying, sir?" he finally asked.

She pointed again with her fork. "The cottage at the rear of the grounds is unoccupied, Constable. I see no reason for it to remain uninhabited. Do you?"

"Ah...no, sir," Ben prevaricated.

"Good then, it's settled," she said with finality.

"Ah...pardon my obtuseness, sir, but what exactly did we just settle?"

Thatcher smiled one of her rare smiles. "Why, Constable, we have just solved your housing problem." Turning her attention to Turnbull, she instructed, "Draw up the necessary papers tomorrow and let's set the lease at..." She glanced at Ben then asked, "A year?"

Ben finally realized what Thatcher was offering him. He slid his chair back and turned to stare at the cottage that was barely discernable in the descending dusk. A home--not an apartment where he had to share facilities with everyone else on the floor; where he had to listen to arguments or sounds of lovemaking through paper-thin walls; where he could come and go and no one would question his movements; but, most of all, a home where Diefenbaker would be welcome and there would be no fearful tenants to call the Humane Society or blame the wolf for missing pets. For the first time in a long time, Ben felt as if things might actually be changing for the better.

Turning back to Thatcher, Ben smiled a genuine smile of pleasure. "I think a year would be satisfactory, sir, with an option to renew?" his voice rose in question.

"A good idea, Fraser. You'll take care of it, Ren?" she asked.

"Yes, sir," Turnbull replied.

Phil turned off the television set and leaned back in the chair. Staring at the ceiling, she listened to the silence that filled her apartment. After having TJ as a guest for almost a week, she found the silence strange and slightly intimidating. Huffing lightly, she rose from the chair. Why did the thought of being alone bother her? She'd lived by herself for more years than she cared to remember. Why did it bother her now?

She dearly loved her brother but, after a week of living in close proximity, they had both welcomed the news that TJ was well enough to fend for himself. She missed his presence but, at the same time, she welcomed her privacy. TJ had steadfastly refused to name the woman he had fallen in love with but Phil knew in the deepest parts of her mind that she could only be Ben's sister. Any mention of Ben made her uncomfortable since it brought to mind Becka Fraser and how TJ's and her love had been placed on hold until she straightened her own affairs. Was she being selfish, as TJ had hinted? Was she being self-centered? After all these years and all that had happened she no longer knew for sure. Nothing was black or white anymore, only shades of grey. Strange how one attack of appendicitis had brought Ben back into her life and how another would force her into resolving all the conflicts that had festered within her soul for so many years. Why was life always so difficult?

She still loved Ben Fraser. That had never changed. She'd tried to find love with other men but none had ever touched her the way that Ben had. She had the chance now to recapture that love...if she was willing to put the past behind herself. And now, it was not only Ben but also TJ that waited for her decision. It seemed like everyone was waiting for a second chance at love but, ultimately, it was her decision that would grant that chance or completely destroy it. It wasn't fair. Why did that kind of decision have to fall on her shoulders? When had she become responsible for the happiness of others?

As long as the decision had only affected her relationship with Ben, she could justify waiting until she was absolutely sure about what she wanted. But now, with the added complication of TJ's happiness, she no longer had that luxury. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner her life and the lives of everyone else could be taken off hold. With that decision made, she rose to her feet and hurried to her office. Settling at her desk, she drew forth a sheet of stationery and began writing. When she'd finished, she placed the letter in a large manila envelope and addressed it to Ben at the Canadian Consulate.

Placing her hands on her desk, she briefly rested her head on them. She dreaded the next step she must take. Once taken there would be no going back. Ben would learn her secret and only then could they really see if there was a chance for them. Ben needed to know about his daughter. He needed to deal with her death and the life he might have had if he had not abandoned her for Victoria. She hesitated to do this, however. She knew how he would react and the pain he would feel. Her heart already ached for him. How could she subject him to this knowledge?

Even as her resolve faltered, she rose to her feet and headed toward her bedroom and the file box that contained her memories of Ben's love. A snatch of Shakespeare drifted across her thoughts and grinned wryly at the appropriateness of the quote.

"If it were done, then better 'tis done quickly," she spoke to the silence of the room. It had been a long time since she'd last read Macbeth and she was quite sure that she had mangled the quote. Still, it reflected her thoughts and she clung to it as she entered her bedroom.

Digging in the back of her closet, she searched for the metal file box that had been pushed to the back. Her bare toe found the box first. "Damn that hurts!" she cursed as she backed out of the closet. Settling onto the edge of the bed, she cradled her foot rubbing the bruised toe. "I might have known that I'd end up hurting myself over that box!" she muttered under her breath.

Chance jumped up on the bed and offered his own brand of sympathy. Phil gathered the cat into her arms then rolled back on to the bed hugging him to her. "What do you know, you black fur ball?" The cat purred loudly and Phil laughed softly. "You think you know everything, don't you? Okay, okay, I'll let you go--ungrateful animal!" Chance stalked to the edge of the bed and settled there, calmly watching Phil.

Phil dropped to her knees and crawled into the closet, finally backing out with the file box in tow. Dragging it across the carpet to the bed, she settled down beside it, placing her back against the side of the bed. Leaning back, she stared blindly at the ceiling for a moment before dropping her eyes to the box on the floor beside her. Drawing her feet up, she rested her forehead on her knees. The last time she'd opened the box it had told her of Ben's presence in Chicago. It had lead to the resurgence of her migraine headaches. Why was she even thinking of opening it again? She already knew the answer to that question--Lindy. She had promised Ben to tell him of the things that still separated them. Coward that she was, she was taking the easy way out.

Phil removed the columbine decorated box and ran a hand over the surface of the file box then climbed to her feet. Best to get this done quickly. She dug through her jewelry box until she found the key that locked away the tangible evidence of the love that had blossomed and died so many years ago--a love that had resurfaced on a trip through the Grand Canyon. Once more seated on the floor beside the box, she hesitated before inserting the key in the lock. Laughing at her timidity, she turned the key and threw back the lid of her box of memories of Benton Fraser. Chance rose from the bed, jumped onto the floor, and rubbed up against her. Leaning back against the bed, Phil pulled the cat into her lap.

Hugging the cat to her, she let the doubts wash over her. Martin was gone from her life. All that remained were a few pictures on her wall. Was it only a few weeks ago that he'd returned to her only to leave once more? Why had it not surprised her to learn he'd found a new love? Maybe it was the thought in the back of her mind that she'd found a new love as well. No, there were things to be discussed, shared before she could admit to this love, allow herself to hope once more. Could she take that chance once more?

Why was she doing this? Why couldn't she let her life go back to the way it had been for so long? She didn't need Ben in her life. She could live without him--had lived without him for over 12 years. Why was she doing this? Why did he have to be on that field trip? Why did he have to look the same after so many years? Why did her heart feel alive once more? So what if he could steal her breath with a glance of his glacier blue eyes? So what if his touch sent shafts of fire through her? So what if his kiss still had the power to rob her mind of coherent thought? So what if he said he still cared for her? So what...? So what was she doing with this box of memories? She closed her eyes and replayed again that conversation on the bank of Lake Mead with him. Ben's clear voice recited that piece of poetry over and over in her mind.

She knew it by heart and each time she replayed it the panic grew. Why? She didn't want to admit it to herself. No, she wouldn't let him hurt her again. She had hoped that second best with Martin would be better than heartbreak without Ben but that option no longer existed. Was that the reason she contemplated delving into this box of memories? Maybe she could finally resolve her feelings about him. Cat had said as much. Ray had said as much. How could she move ahead with her life if she was forever tied to the past? But every time she saw Ben the past reared its head and she wanted to...

She closed her eyes. She knew what she wanted...wanted with every fiber of her being. She wanted him. She had never stopped loving him and now...now she had the opportunity to reclaim all that she had lost those many years ago when Ben had turned from her to Victoria. But could she trust him? Could she believe the words of love he whispered in her ear? Could she trust him?

Shaking herself of these unwelcome thoughts, she reached for the first thing in the box--a small black leather notebook containing several news articles--her record of Ben's advancement, his honors, and anything that had been printed about him. Cat had given them to her along with the article about Ben's father--an article noting the gallant efforts of two Mounties in the rescue of a kidnapped diplomat. Phil brushed her fingers over the photo of the two men, one of whom had almost been her father-in-law.

"I'm sorry, we never got to meet each other while you were alive. I'm sorry you never got to hold your granddaughter." Her voice caught as the painful memories of her daughter clutched her heart. As she carefully closed the notebook an envelope drifted to the floor. Phil gathered up and slipped the single piece of paper from it. She unfolded the slip of paper with the BakTrak letterhead. She read the addresses written in Cat's distinctive script. 'So close and yet so very far.'

Phil leaned back against the bed once more thinking back to the times when she'd gone to the Canadian Consulate looking for Ben. The first time she had stalked the sentry on duty. 'I wonder what he thought of me?' Phil bowed her head in embarrassment.

The second time happened after she learned that Ben was in Chicago. She'd ventured within the building only to discover that he wasn't in. Beating a hasty retreat, she'd congratulated herself on not making a fool of herself. Then what had she made of herself during that trip? She had practically promised Martin that she would marry him and yet she could think only of Ben. Martin's image in her thoughts had faded to almost nonexistent.

She sighed and dropped her chin to rest on her chest. She regretted the fact that Victoria had betrayed Ben. She knew how that felt and wouldn't wish that on anyone. She refolded the note and placed it back into the small notebook. With some small amount of trepidation, Phil reached into the box and began removing its contents--finally facing some of the demons that had plagued her for many years.

The stack of letters--she had not read them in over 10 years yet it seemed like only yesterday that she had first seen them. Moving the black cat from her lap, she gathered the letters together, climbed to her feet, and carried them to the kitchen, sorting them as she went. She placed them on the table and set the kettle on the stove. A cup of hot chocolate would taste good. She reached for a freshly baked cookie and nibbled on it while she waited for the water to boil. The kettle began to whistle and she quickly fixed a cup of chocolate.

Ben dug through the small grocery sack for the tin of Darjeeling tea he'd purchased earlier in the day. He needed something a little stronger than the Chamomile or Jasmine that he usually favored. Fixing his cup, he placed the tin of tea in the cabinet along side the other tins of tea. The cabinet was sparse, containing only the tea, a box of oatmeal, and bag of macaroni. That didn't really matter to him. It was his cabinet...in his cottage...and he would stock it as soon as he had the time or the desire to do so. Right now, he was happy to just have a place to call his own. The situation with his office and his father inhabiting the closet of his office was no longer a problem...at least not at night. During the day when he was on duty was a totally different matter.

He strode from the small kitchen to the small living area mentally thanking Ray and Stan and Ren for helping him with the few items of furniture that had moldered away beneath their sheets of white. He had also selected a few pieces from the large inventory of furnishings stored in the attic and basement of the consulate to round out the furnishings in the small cottage. Although the pieces had obviously seen better times, Ben was satisfied with his selection. The chairs and sofa were comfortable and the tables were sturdy and functional. A large roll-top desk completed the selection. With a little linseed oil and a good cloth, its beauty could easily be restored.

Clutching his cup of tea, he returned to his bedroom and his father's chest. The fire had taken almost everything he owned but, fortunately, the things he valued the most had been safely stored in the chest. Cat and Becka had already sent him replacement photos for the ones he'd lost and Cat had promised him a new sprig of lavender to replace the small plant that had perished in the fire. He had already scanned the vast grounds of the consulate and had chosen an appropriate bed for it.

As with the other furniture, the bed and the dresser were not in the best condition but they were sturdy and comfortable and with that he was satisfied. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the chest. There were no visible indications that it had withstood the ravages of the fire.

Why not let it rest? Why torture himself with more memories? It had been his decision; he had issued the ultimatum--all or none. He had thought he could be satisfied with her friendship but after the Grand Canyon trip he could no longer fool himself. He couldn't be satisfied with a partial relationship with Phil. Being with her and not being able to hold her and love her, seeing her in someone else's arms, tasting her lips again...

No, he couldn't be just a friend. He wanted more. He wanted everything he had thrown away. He wanted to live in the center of life and love with Phil, not on the outskirts where he'd existed for far too long.

He unlocked the chest and threw back the lid. He stared into the depths of the trunk letting his eyes roam over the contents--his father's journals, the various small boxes with mementos of his father's. He reached into the chest and removed the upper layer of books and boxes. His hand encountered the rifle and removed it. His own gun followed his father's. Layer by layer, Ben removed the contents of the chest.

His hands stilled. Ben removed a book--one of his own journals. He smiled; maybe someday his son would read this and draw comfort and inspiration from them. He prayed, however, that this would not be the only tangible evidence of his love. He quickly removed the others. Finally, at the bottom of the chest he found the object of his search--a shoebox. Although he had rarely opened it in the 12 years since leaving Phil, just knowing it was there had helped him overcome some bad times. He had opened it after Victoria. The love he had felt from the letters had helped heal the damage she had wrought in his life.

He took the box out of the chest and set it aside. The other contents of the chest were placed back into it. Closing the lid, he sat the box on top of it. He wouldn't hide it in the bottom of the chest anymore. He wanted it where he could reach it quickly, where he could once more experience Phil's love.

Ben reached for his tea and grimaced at its coldness. Rising to his feet, he went back to the kitchen and reheated his cup. He grinned to himself. Ray and Stan had given him a microwave oven as a housewarming gift and, right now, he agreed that it was nice to have one. He took his reheated tea back to the bedroom and, in an uncharacteristic act of abandon, removed his boots, and kicked them under the bed. Leaving the bedroom, he padding stocking-footed across the floor with the box tucked under his arm.

The small cottage was large by comparison to his small apartment and he momentarily felt guilty about moving into such an abode. However, the small cottage would have remained empty if he hadn't leased it from the consulate. So, he justified to himself, it was all right for him to enjoy its comforts.

He strolled into the small living room and settled into an overstuffed chair placing the cup of tea on the tiny table beside the chair. Before opening the box, he took a long draught of his tea using it to settle the knot in his stomach. He had a long evening ahead of himself.

Still, he paused before reaching for his box of memories. He already knew what it contained but did he really want to open it? Did he want to dredge up the memories that it would bring? Did he want to bring forth the demons that haunted him? Why was he doing this to himself? Why? Why couldn't he let things rest? Why was he setting himself for further heartache? Why?

Because he loved Phil.

His hand lingered on the box before untying the bootlace and removing the lid. Inside neatly ordered were the letters Phil had written him. A faint scent of lavender drifted to him. He brought the box to his nose and inhaled deeply and smiled. He sat the box back in his lap and removed the small collection of photos. He smiled at the group of people that had become his friends during that summer excursion.

He laid the photos aside and rose to his feet. A short trip to the bedroom and he returned with a small book in his hand. Settling once more into the comfortable chair, he opened his current journal. It fell open to a blank page marked by a photo of Phil. Cat had given it to him. Phil sat in the floor of Cat's kitchen holding a black kitten, Chance. Mischief lurked in the face turned to the photographer. How he had loved that face! He closed his eyes and pictured the warm brown eyes and that lopsided grin. Others could think what they wished; Phil was beautiful to him. And over the past 12 years she had blossomed and, although still not beautiful by some standards, she had developed a confidence and, coupled with her innate grace and charm and her sleek well-proportioned body, Phil now attracted her fair share of male attention. Where was the shy, plain Jane he had loved?

He closed the journal and laid it aside. Pulling the first letter out of the box, he read the date on it--he had been gone barely a week. He remembered the joy and anticipation he felt when the letter had reached him. He had placed it in the pocket of his tunic and, throughout the day, found himself patting the pocket. He couldn't wait for his shift to end so he could hurry back to his motel room to read it. It had affected his behavior all day; he knew he wore a stupid smile on his lips but he didn't care. The letters had continued to arrive every two weeks after that. He opened the envelope and read the letter.

The words echoed in his mind. Images of Phil beckoned to him. After all this time, the letters still affected him. He placed the letters with the photos and reached for the small collection of rocks he had collected on that field trip so many years ago. He turned the bentonite over in his hand and smiled ruefully at the memories it brought back to him. Lifting the rock, he placed it against his tongue. It clung there, just as it had when Phil had tricked him into tasting it. He leaned his head back against the support of the chair and closed his eyes listening to her laughter.

Why was he doing this? What if she didn't want to start over? Could he accept that? He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He sat forward propping his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair. No, there was still something there between them. He had felt it several times during the trip through the Canyon. And that last night of passionate love--surely only two people in love could achieve such mind-blowing rapture.

Irritated at himself, he rose from the chair and tripped over Diefenbaker.

*Woof* Dief scrabbled away from his packmate.

Ben dropped down on his knees, and reached a hand toward his friend. Dief sniffed Ben's fingers then ran his tongue over them. Ben chuckled and ran a hand over Dief's head to scratch behind his ears. "I'm sorry, Dief. I didn't see you there."

The lupine eyes regarded the Mountie. *Woof*

"I apologized! There's no need to use that tone with me. You need to learn to be gracious and except apologies when they are offered." Ben shook his head in exasperation. There was nothing worse than a wolf with an attitude.

Rising to his feet, he strolled over to the window and stared out on the darkened gardens. He could dimly make out the outlines of trees as they swayed in the light breeze. His eyes moved to the night sky. The light of the city washed out much of the sky and it was with difficulty that he picked out the stars that made up the constellations he had learned as a child. He searched for the constellation of Gemini and the two stars that reminded him of his true love--Castor and Pollux. Maybe Phil was also gazing at the night sky and searching for the same two stars as he. Maybe...

Carrying her cup of hot chocolate into the living room, Phil gathered the letters from the table and placed them on the coffee table next to her cup of chocolate. She then placed the CD of Native American music in her player mentally thanking Cat for sending it to her. She found its music relaxing but not distracting.

Returning to her chair, she dropped into it and reached for her chocolate. Taking a deep swallow, she opened the letter and began to read it. Ben's letters were always full of bits of useless information and snippets of Inuit tales. Phil smiled as she read the story of the northern lights. She read the concluding sentence and Ben's comments.

Phil folded the letter and placed it in the envelope. She reached for her cup of chocolate but could barely swallow past the lump in her throat. She straightened and gathered the letters into a pile and carried them back to the bedroom. She settled herself on the floor beside the box and placed them with the black leather notebook.

Turning her attention to the box, Phil removed the framed pictures and the hummingbirds Ben had given her. Maybe she would hang the pictures again. The columbine watercolor would brighten her office and the etching of Thunder Basin...no, that would not be displayed where uncomfortable questions might be asked. She took the etching and placed it against the wall. Maybe she would hang it, maybe not. The hummingbirds, porcelain and crystal...she would set them free from their file box prison. They were too lovely to be hidden away in the dark recesses of her memories.

Rising to her feet, she carried the hummingbirds into the living room. The porcelain hummers took up residence on her piano while the crystal ones found a home on a bookcase in her office. Returning to living room, she glanced warily around suddenly feeling the walls closing in on her. Hurrying to the patio doors, she flung them open and stepped out onto what the landlord had assured her was a patio. In reality, it was little more than a wide spot on the fire escape. Nevertheless, it was hers and she had placed several large pots around the perimeter of the small space where she grew a few cherry tomatoes, some herbs, and a profusion of flowers and greenery. With winter well on its way, the pots were barren and the patio had shrunk back to the fire escape it actually was.

Lifting her face to the sky once more, a shiver coursed down her spine at the thought that somewhere not too far from here Ben was, perhaps, looking at the same night sky, perhaps searching for the same pair of stars. Or maybe it was the natural chill to the autumn air. Taking one last look, Phil entered her apartment and locked the patio doors and closed the drapes.

A noise behind him drew his attention back to the interior of the small cottage. Dief stood at the door. Obviously he thought it was a good time for a walk. Ben sighed heavily, "Pay and pay and pay..." he muttered under his breath, but the prospect of a walk in the gardens did sit well. It would give him some time to sort through his scattered thoughts.

The sounds of the city were almost absent within the grounds of the new consulate. Ben followed the specter of the white wolf across the open grass toward the denseness of the trees that bordered the small stream that crossed the rear of the consulate grounds. As he approached the stream nocturnal sounds reached him and he stopped for a moment to close his eyes and imagine he was someplace else--someplace other than the heart of Chicago--someplace in the mountains--someplace with Phil. He stood there, a silent sentry of the night, as the memories washed over him.

A wet nose on the back of his hand brought him out of his reverie and he used his hand to stroke the head of his friend. Glancing down, he smiled at his companion. "You ready to head home?" Home--that had a nice ring to it.

*Woof* Dief's tail wagged hopefully back and forth.

"No, we will not check out the bakery down the street."

*Whine*

"Because you are getting soft and lazy, that's why. Just look at you. When was the last time you actually tracked down a meal?"

Dief bounced eagerly, rearing up on his hind legs. *Woof*

"No," Ben sighed. "I do not consider that half eaten hamburger a true test of your hunting skills."

*Whine*

"No, processed sugar is not good for a wolf's digestive system. The sooner you kick your junk food habit, the better off you will be."

*Growl*

"Listen here, Bucko! Don't use that tone of voice with me. I'll ship you back up north and then what would you do?" Ben waved a finger in the wolf's face.

Dief turned and trotted quickly away from the man, his tail held high. He knew Alpha Male was only joking. What would Alpha Male do without him? Probably get lost. He heard his packmate call to him but refused to stop or acknowledge the call. He was supposed to be deaf and he didn't want to spoil a good scam.

Ben watched the wolf trot away from him. It was fruitless to call to him but, out of habit, he did anyway. Not surprisingly Dief did not turn back. "Pay and pay and pay..." he muttered under his breath as he followed more slowly. As he approached the small cottage he turned back for one last look at this tiny slice of wilderness hidden in the heart of this city. He glanced again at the sky judging the time, and headed back indoors. It would be an early night for him.

Wandering over to the piano, Phil trailed her fingers over the keys--not playing anything just making noise. Realizing what she was doing she lifted her hand to the chain around her neck--the chain she now wore to replace the one returned to Ben.

"What are you going to do, Phil?" Caroline asked softly.

"I don't know. What can I do?" she turned pleading eyes on the image of Ben's mother. "I can't let him hurt me like he did before. But..." her voice trailed off.

"But what?"

Phil closed her eyes. "I miss him. I thought I was over him. But seeing him again..." She opened her eyes and stared hopelessly at Caroline. "I can't let him hurt me like he did before," she repeated.

"How do you know he will hurt you again?"

"I don't, Caroline." Phil turned away from her visitor and strode back to the patio doors. Pulling the drapes back, she stared out at the semidarkness. "He doesn't want to be friends. He wants to start over, try to find our love. I can't do that. I can't take that chance."

"Why not, Phil? Why can't you start over?"

Letting the drape fall back in place, Phil wrapped her arms around herself. "Because if he left me again I would die. I simply don't have the strength to survive that kind of devastation again. I can let go of Martin and not look back but I can't take that chance with Ben. I can't do it, Caroline, I would rather go through life living my partial life than living no life at all." She spoke in a broken whisper.

"What life are you talking about, Phil? You have no life. You've not had any since Lindy died. Why do you cling so tenaciously to this shadow when you could claim what was yours all along. Do you want it, Phil? Do you want my son's love?"

Phil stared helplessly at Caroline. What did she want? Did she want Ben's love? Did she want to feel his strong arms around her? Did she want to lay her face on his chest and listen to the beating of his heart? Did she want to make passionate love with him? Create their own fireworks? Could she ever trust him?

That was the crux. Could she ever place her trust and love in his hands again. She had done that once before and he had callously crushed it and then thrown it away. Wrapped in misery, she collapsed on the sofa. When she again raised her eyes to Caroline, she discovered she was alone.

Minutes passed then an hour before she felt up to facing the final contents of the file box. She slowly rose and covered the short distance to the bedroom. Standing at the door she could already see the folded Canadian flag and the stuffed animals. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. No, she would not let the memories housed in the box be sad. Her love for Ben had gradually ebbed to a dull ache and time had healed the other wound. Yes, there was still emptiness in her life, but the pain and despair following Lindy's death had also ebbed.

Phil approached the box and stared down into it. No, she would not remove those mementos of Lindy from the box. She carefully extracted the photo of Ben that had hung in Lindy's room. A finger gently stroked the lines of his face. She could easily feel Ben's face--his warm skin--under her fingers. She hugged the photo to herself then placed it with the etching on the floor facing the wall. Why did he come back into her life? Weren't things complicated enough without having to deal with these unwelcome emotions? Why did she feel like this? All she had to do was forget about him. She snorted. In 12 years without him she had not forgotten him. Sure she could forget him. That was the easiest thing she could do but did she want to forget him? If she did wouldn't she have done it before now? But...could she go back to what they had had before? Ben had made it perfectly clear that it was all or nothing. He didn't want her friendship without her love. He couldn't go back to just being a friend. He wanted more. What did she want?

She replaced the memories of Ben in the file box including the columbine decorated box of photos then slid it back into the depths of the closet. Stepping back, she considered her options. What was she going to do?

Digging through her lingerie drawer, she pulled out a pair of silk boxers and retrieved the old RCMP T-shirt of Ben's that had resided in the box for so many years then headed for the shower. Standing under the spray, she let the hot water wash away the tension that had built in her neck and shoulders. She reached for the soap and, closing her eyes, pretended she was back in a motel shower resting her face against a water-slickened chest. Sadly, her eyes slowly opened as her hand clutched the ringless chain around her neck. Did she want Ben back in her life? Her head bowed, she let her tears mingle with the water streaming down her body.

Ben watched as Diefenbaker settled onto the rug in the living room and fell asleep. Shaking his head in wonderment, he headed toward the small bathroom. It had been a long time since he had had his own private bathing facilities and he eagerly anticipated the showers and baths he would take in his own bathroom. Tonight he opted for a bath. A good long soak would ease the tightness in his back and help him relax. He ran the water deep and hot then settled his considerable frame into it. He slid down until just his head was visible above the water and indulged in a good long soak. When he felt himself nodding off, he climbed from the now tepid bath and reached for a towel.

Ben gave a final swipe to his hair. Smiling, he reminded himself that he no longer had to run the gauntlet of the hallway of his old apartment. Yes, there were definite advantages to the small cottage he now called home. The only thing that would make it better would be to share it with someone. A someone named Phil.

Ben discarded the wet towel and strolled into his bedroom where he reached for his starched boxers. As he fed one foot into the boxers he stopped, reconsidered, and withdrew the foot. The boxers sailed across the room and landed in a heap at the base of the small chest-of-drawers. Opening a window, he stretched relishing the cool feel of the breeze on his bare skin. He could handle autumn much better than midsummer. He stretched again and turned away from the window. A smile curled his lips as a sleeping wolf now occupied the formerly empty bed. He shook his head in resignation. 'Pay and pay and pay...' Maybe it would be in his best interests to secure a second bed for Diefenbaker. As much as he preferred the floor, his back protested in the morning after spending the night on the floor.

Digging in the depths of his closet, he removed his bedroll. Striding to the window, he placed the roll on the floor and kicked it open. He would just have to offer the bedroll to the wolf and hope that he accepted graciously. He really didn't feel like arguing with Diefenbaker right now.

Opening one eye, Dief watched Alpha Male move about the room and unroll the bedroll. He knew that his packmate experienced bouts of pain, especially after sleeping on the floor. Feeling a little guilty, the wolf rolled from the bed and trotted over to the bedroll. A quick sniff, a leisurely circle, and he settled onto the roll, closing his eyes.

Ben stared in amazement at the wolf at his feet. Shaking his head, he strode over to the bed and stretched out on it. Lying back, he threaded his fingers behind his head. He lay for a moment more then reached for the book he had saved for last. The book had arrived in the mail earlier that day. Opening the parcel in his office, he'd been surprised by the trip album. He'd forgotten all about it. Guiltily, he had not opened it. He did not want to be caught using official time for something personal. Instead, he had placed the album back in its wrapping paper and waited until he was off duty to glance through it. Now he wanted to take a more detailed look at the photos in it.

Ben cradled it lovingly in his hands before opening it to the frontispiece. He opened the sheet of paper that had been placed there.

The introductory page of the album also contained a short message from Phil but it was a generic message and not like the personal one he held in his hand. However, it did contain something new. The short message was completed with a photo of a mud-coated Phil grinning widely at the camera.

"Do you love me enough to forgive me and start over?" he whispered as he ran a finger over Phil's muddy face.

Phil had said that she created personalized trip albums for each member of her excursions. The photos in this album had been hand-selected with him in mind. That thought brought a warmth to his heart that was not squelched by the knowledge that everyone else had a similar album created specifically for them. This was his album; created for him alone by the woman he loved.

An hour passed as he slowly paged through the book. Each photo brought to mind a memory, an event, a person, something that tied him to the Grand Canyon. A swirl of whitewater with a head bobbing in it reminded him of Crystal; two mud-coated bodies wrestling reminded him of the muddy waters of Kanab Creek; faces around a campfire, a dory manned by himself and one by Phil, large orange diapers and the aqua waters of the Little Colorado; an unguarded moment shared with Ray.

As he thumbed through the book a particular photo caught his eye. Phil stood beneath the waters of Travertine Falls wrapped in his arms. Someone had captured that kiss. He closed his eyes, tasting Phil's lips once more. He ran his finger across his lips imagining Phil's. Her tongue sent shivers of desire racing through him. He could feel her hands, her mouth, as he replayed his memories of that last night together but when he reached for her, there was only empty air. The moment of fantasy had passed and real life asserted itself. His sense of loss was beyond tears, the ache in his heart a white-hot brand that left him gasping, the ache in his groin a sick and fiery gnawing. How could he live without her in his life? How could he face the cold loneliness of life without Phil? He knew he could but it would be a life devoid of warmth and color. He could live within that barren existence. He could, he was a Mountie. But for this moment, he was simply a man and, as he stroked himself to release, he shed tears of remorse for what he had lost.

"Phil, I miss you..." he sighed and closed his eyes.

Phil slid the cool softness of the silk boxers up over her hips and drew the old T-shirt on over her head. Smoothing back her wet hair from her face she stared into the depths of her mirror shocked by the haunted look in her eyes. How had she come to exist in this miserable state?

Turning away from her haunted eyes, she entered her bedroom and crawled between the covers of her bed. Surprisingly, sleep came quickly and in her dreams she once more lived and loved Ben Fraser. But they were only dreams and dreams had a habit of ending. Phil rose from her bed and stumbled to her bathroom. Running cool water into the basin, she bathed her face with it as she tried to calm her racing heart. She stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"What is the matter with you, Phil?" The ceaseless, inward questions hammered at her.

The image refused to answer and she shook her head dejectedly. Why was her sleep disturbed by images of Ben? By vivid dreams of passionate lovemaking? She closed her eyes and remembered reaching out to him in the dream and being pulled onto his chest. She felt his bare skin against hers and the kisses that that found those sensitive spots. Even now her muscles clenched as she recalled the touch of his tongue. Was she going crazy? She could still feel his weight settle on her as she spread her legs inviting him into her body. Abandoning all thought she gave into the sensual pleasure of lovemaking with Ben. Their shared climax had jolted her awake. Why did she dream of him?

She splashed more water on her face and stared at her reflection. Haunted eyes in a face shadowed by longing stared back at her. For some unknown reason she felt drawn to place her hand on the mirror. Her hand slowly approached the glass surface then pressed flat against it. For a brief fleeting moment awareness flooded through her whole being.

The cool breeze strengthened and provided Ben with a familiarity rarely found in this Chicago jungle. His breathing slowed and his mind slipped into sleep. A voice called to him and he smiled. A hand reached for him and he grasped it and pulled her lithe form down onto his chest. He pulled her head down and kissed her deeply, enjoying the moans of pleasure issuing from her. His hands stroked her bare skin finding those spots that pleasured her the most. Rolling with her, he kissed the base of her throat trailing kisses down to her breast. Suckling on a nipple, he felt Phil's body arch beneath him. He kissed a line down to her woman's flesh driving her to the edge of sanity and beyond. He slid his hard body atop hers and positioned himself above her. Staring into her dark eyes, glazed with passion, he gently entered her. Savoring the feeling of satisfaction that came of filling her with his hardness, he moved with a gently urgency that built to a fever pitch. Climaxing together, Ben jerked awake to discover that he was alone and Phil had only been a dream. The musky smell of the aftermath of his dream mingled with his earlier indiscretion and surrounded him. Sighing, he rose from his bedroll and entered the small bath. Lathering a warm wash cloth with soap, he quickly washed away the reminder of his lack of control. He leaned against the sink and stared at his image in the mirror. How had he come to exist in this miserable state?

He continued to stare at his reflection in the mirror. 'Oh, how the mighty have fallen,' he thought before running some cold water in the basin. Splashing it on his face he sought to quench the fires that still burned within him--fires that he feared would eventually consume him. Raising his eyes to the mirror once more, he felt the urge to touch his reflection. Maybe this mirror person was the real Benton Fraser and he was only a pale copy of the man he had once been. His hand reached for the silvered surface, his fingers splaying out. Awareness tingled through his hand, spreading its message through his body to his heart. Slowly he withdrew his hand from the mirror. For a moment he felt as if he had actually touched Phil's hand. For a moment he had thought he had seen her visage in his mirror. For a moment he was joined to her once more. For a brief, microscopic moment he was whole again.

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 me. 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 Sarah McLachlan's Angel are used without permission.

Copyright March 2001 by Cassandra Hope