Disclaimer: Not mine

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'Good afternoon, Mr. Ferguson.'

There was no mistaking that voice.

Under the pretext of re-packing her book, Meg turned to grab her bag, shooting a quick glance at the door as she went. One look was enough to confirm what she already knew instinctively.

It was him.

Fraser. The man who had caused her so much extra work during her time in Chicago, who had infuriated her to no end with his naivety and idealism, seeing good in every drug dealer and petty thief. The man who had disobeyed countless orders and spent more time working for the Chicago PD than for the consulate…And the man over whom she'd been losing sleep since that kiss, the first and last time he'd really looked at her, not as a superior officer, but as a person.

As a woman.

Busying herself with the straps, she studied him through lowered lashes.

The same dark hair that always reminded her of some sort of animal pelt, that always looked so thick and inviting, that she always wanted to run her hands through. The same mouth that, with a twitch or a thoughtful frown or a lift of one corner, could say more than any words. The same broad shoulders, without the uniform, but just as well defined through his white cable-knit sweater and navy RCMP-issue coat. The same grey-slate blue eyes that were currently—thankfully—not looking her way but at his hands (oh, his hands) from which he was carefully removing a pair of tanned-hide gloves.

Just then, the object of her observations cleared his throat, bringing her back to her senses. Heart suddenly, inexplicably racing, she spun back to face the counter before he could recognize her.

'I'm here to pick up—'

'Oh, you're here for Meg!' Frozen in place, her sack halfway to her lap, Meg watched in alarm as Doug waved an arm in her direction. 'Meg, this is Corporal Benton Fraser. One of the finest officers in the territories.'

Oh, so he's a corporal now, a part of her brain noted absently as she turned and with a suddenly dry mouth, cut off Doug's introduction.

'We've met.' Risking a glance up, she found herself staring directly into a pair of familiar eyes. She thought she saw a flash of surprise and…something else, before being shut out by an equally familiar pokerfaced gaze—one she hated for its bland, politeness, and because she knew it meant he was hiding something.

'Have you, now?' Doug sounded thrilled.

Still staring at her with that unreadable Mountie mask, Constable—Corporal— Benton Fraser, the man who had monopolized her thoughts for three years now, nodded slowly.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

'Coffee?' Doug, oblivious to the tension, held out the pot invitingly.

Fraser started slightly, and both shook their heads, but it was Meg who looked away first. She always had, even as his superior officer. When he wanted, Fraser could stare straight into a person's mind. She'd been on the receiving end of that sharp gaze often enough to know. Suddenly conscious of her messy hair and old cowichan sweater—and the fact that he was still staring—she turned to Doug.

'Const—Corporal Fraser and I were both stationed in Chicago at one point. At the Canadian consulate. He…I was…that is, we were colleagues.' Aware that she was babbling, she flushed and shut her mouth. There was silence from Fraser's side of the room and she resisted the temptation to glance over.

'That so?' He sounded impressed. 'It's always nice to meet a friend of Benton's.

'Yes, well,' she paused, having no idea what to say in reply.

Mercifully, Fraser chose that moment to break in with a polite cough.

'Mr. Ferguson? Ah…we should probably be on our way.'

'Right, right. Off with you then.' He turned to Meg, 'Enjoy your trip, ma'am.'

'Thank you.' She grabbed her bag, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the man behind the counter. 'It was nice to meet you Mr. Ferguson.'

'Doug.'

'Doug,' she amended with a weak smile.

Without a word, Fraser opened the door and gestured at her to exit first. Then he turned and tipped his Stetson at Doug. 'Say hi to Laura and the kids for me.'

'You bet.'

'Thank you kindly.' Following Meg out into the cold, he shut the door behind them then immediately busied himself with his gloves.

Silently, Meg pulled on her own mitts and parka, her visible breaths seeming unnaturally loud in the frozen air. She was uncomfortably aware of the awkwardness of their situation; two years as his superior officer, a kiss, an order to forget said kiss, a sudden transfer to a classified assignment and then—nothing. She knew it had been wrong of her to leave without addressing their…situation, to lie about the reason for her transfer ('I'm not all that well liked, Fraser. You know what they call me. They think I can do more back in Canada') and then, to make matters worse, being forced to literally disappear for a year as part of that assignment.

But you don't know what he feels. He could have moved on. Yes, a little voice in her head whispered, that's it; he's found someone else. A nice woman who can give him children and a warm home and is never sharp or angry or—

Stop it, she scolded herself. You're an RCMP Inspector for God's sake. Act like one. Say something…ask about the weather, his post, his promotion. Anything.

She opened her mouth.

'So—'

'Sir—'

Fraser smiled faintly and gestured to her. 'Sorry, you first.'

'No, it's fine,' she shook her head. 'Go ahead, Fras—Corporal.'

He looked at her searchingly for a moment then nodded. 'Sir, I was not aware when they asked me to come that you were the officer in question,' he began carefully, 'I am sorry if I…if this situation…'

'No,' she cut in sharply. 'No, it's fine.' She winced internally—is that the only thing you can say?—and tried to soften her tone. 'Thank you…for coming. I'm sure you had other duties to attend to.'

'It was no trouble.'

She nodded slowly a couple of times, absently tracing a line in the snow with the toe of her boot. Meanwhile, he stared intently at the mountain ridge behind her as if it were absolutely fascinating. She wouldn't be upset to see it burst into flames.

If only they were back in Chicago. Back in her office with their roles laid out clearly before them so she could dismiss him and bury herself in work and go back to ignoring the fact that he was sitting just outside her door. If only she could send him for coffee or dry cleaning all would be right in the world.

Why had she come here again?

Sue. You're here to visit Sue. That's all. Now why don't you find out how you're going to accomplish that.

Struggling for her usual professional tone, she spoke again, briskly. 'Shall we be going?'

Snapping his eyes back to her face, he nodded quickly. 'Right. Ah…there's only one snowmobile, I'm afraid,' he said apologetically.

She had already noticed the lone vehicle sitting by the side of the building, and didn't bother to reply, but just stowed her pack away with quick, practiced motions.

Coming up beside her, he checked to make sure everything was secure, then got on and handed her a helmet.

She nodded her thanks and slid it over the remnants of her French braid, tucking up the strands of hair that had slipped free. Then, after the slightest, almost imperceptible, hesitation, climbed up behind him and awkwardly wrapped her arms around the middle of his back. She felt him tense slightly through the thick wool of their combined clothing and forced her mind to concentrate on the amount of paperwork she'd left behind and not on the warmth of his back or the curve of his neck.

Thankfully, he turned the key as soon as she was settled, and as the snow banks and tundra blurred before her eyes she turned her head and let the wind cut across her hot face.

'It's approximately an hour to the local station,' he turned to call back over the howling wind and the noise of the engine. 'I assume that's where you wish to be taken.'

She nodded and he turned to face forward again, swerving just in time to avoid a steep bank. The sudden motion threw her forward and into the blue of his jacket, her nose ending up mere inches away from the back of his head. They both tensed this time and she ground her teeth together in silent frustration and embarrassment and slowly shifted her weight back, bracing her legs against the sides of the machine. He didn't react, but the snowmobile slowed to a more cautious pace and he kept his eyes firmly on the ground before them for the rest of the long ride.

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A/N: Yes, yes, I know. Life is busy right now. But reviews are good motivation…