Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I hope you are enjoying this so far. This chapter's quite long, but please let me know if you like it.

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Fraser sat silently, letting her anger at him pass. He didn't understand why she was so against letting anyone help her with this. He could have been there for her, if only she had let him. She didn't need to go through this alone, but he suspected her stubborn pride would not allow her to admit that to herself. He could tell she blamed herself for Jenna's death, but if only she could see that it was not her fault, maybe then she would open up and let him in. But then maybe that was only wishful thinking on his part. He would like nothing more than for her to let him into her life, let him see the person he knew she hid underneath all the layers she would show to the world, but she had told him in no uncertain terms after the incident on the train that that would never happen again, and he would have to respect that, regardless of how he felt. Already today she had let him see more of her than he ever had in Chicago, though he guessed that could be attributed to the stress of the situation she found herself in and he told himself that, for the time being, he would have to be content with that. Right now, he was just happy that she was alive and safe.

The silence was weighing heavily on the room now and Meg felt she had to say something, apologise for shouting at him again, but she just couldn't seem to find the words. Like so many times before, she found that it was just easier to take all her anger, all her frustrations, out on him. He would never argue back, never tell her she was wrong, never show her anything but the utmost respect and she would repay him by taking out on him everything that was wrong in her life. It wasn't fair, and she knew it. He deserved better, but still she just couldn't seem to put into words the apology she felt in her heart.

"I need some air." Her exit was so abrupt that Fraser barely had time to stand respectfully as she walked across the room and out of the front door.

Left alone in the cabin, Fraser was having trouble understanding everything that had happened in the last hour and all the thoughts that were racing round in his head. Nothing made sense. Meg's supposed death and now her sudden reappearance had left him reeling, functioning simply out of routine. It didn't seem right somehow. Everything he knew about the inspector told him she would stand her ground and fight to bring the criminals to justice, instead of running from them. He shook he head, trying to clear mind from all of the conflicting emotions he was feeling. The pain of her death still felt real in his chest, though it was now combined with the relief that she was alive as well as anger at the lack of trust she had placed in him. All of these were mixed together with one other emotion, one that he was determined not to think about. She had told him quite plainly that there was never going to be anything more between them, instructed him to forget about their contact, but still he couldn't help but secretly hope that maybe one day she would change her mind. But for the time being he would respect her wishes and try not to think about too often, though he had long ago realised that he had little control over his dreams. Dreams in which she would come to him, her dark eyes smouldering with a long-hidden passion…

But that was just a dream, and right now there were more important things to deal with. As he moved to place the pack that had been left propped up by the door, a though suddenly hit him. He glanced quickly around the cabin, wondering where she had been sleeping. He was never meant to be here, so he guessed she had been using the bed. Thoughts of her asleep in his bed crept unwillingly into his head as he saw her sleeping peacefully, eyes closed. Fraser inhaled deeply, realising that being here with her was going to be a lot harder than he had first thought.

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When Meg finally re-entered the cabin, her cheeks red from the cold, Fraser had neatly stored his pack and started on a meal for the two of them.

"Ah, Ma'am, I wasn't sure how hungry you were, so I made soup. I hope that's alright."

"That's fine, Fraser. You don't have to cook though. I'm the one intruding in your home, I should be making you dinner."

"I don't consider you an intruder, ma'am. You are a guest and, as such, it is my pleasure to cook, though it is only soup."

Meg smiled slightly at that. "Regardless, I do appreciate it, Fraser."

"I know," Fraser smiled back at her, before returning to preparing the food. As he was working in the kitchen, Meg went about setting the table. Fraser found he was pleased, if not a little unnerved, at the ease with which she moved around his home.

As they sat down to eat, Fraser found himself studying her as she ate. She was dressed more casually than he had ever seen before, in jeans and a deep red sweater, her long hair hung loosely round her shoulders. Her face was relatively free of make-up and so the dark circles beneath her eyes were clearly visible. He found himself wondering how much sleep she had managed to get since leaving Chicago. This case was obviously getting to her more than even she wanted to admit.

Fraser suddenly realised that he was staring, and she had noticed. She was nervously running her fingers through her hair now, as though trying to smooth the already calm locks.

"I'm sorry, ah, I was, um, just thinking about the last time I cooked you dinner," he covered.

At that Meg did smile. "I remember, during the egg case. I still can't believe some of the situations you manage to get yourself into. Only you could have got locked in an air tight incubator trying to help the person who was suing you." Meg shook her head, she still couldn't totally believe the absurdity of the case.

"Ah, well technically ma'am, you were with me, so I don't believe I can be held totally responsible for that situation, seeing as you were the superior on the scene." Fraser smiled back across the table at her.

"Oh no, you are not blaming me for that, I'm not the one who closed the door." The room fell into a comfortable silence as both occupants realised with surprise how easy it was to be in the other's company now that they were out in the middle of nowhere, far away from Chicago and the pressure of RCMP rules and regulations. The silence was broken as Meg added, almost as an afterthought, "Technically, Fraser, I'm not your superior anymore. I'm not even RCMP. I'm dead, which suggests that you needn't call me ma'am, or inspector, or any other title you may come up with."

Fraser shifted slightly in his chair, "Ma'am, ah, um, what would you prefer I call you then?"

"Meg will be fine, Fraser."

"Meg," he repeated softly. It felt strange to be calling his superior, ex-superior he corrected, by her first name. It was the name of the woman in his dreams and he was afraid that he would slip up and reveal those feelings which inevitably accompanied the use of that name. "Ah, would you care for more soup?"

"No, thank you, but you go ahead Fraser. It was delicious."

"Thank you kindly, though it really is a very simple recipe," Fraser replied modestly as he ladled himself another bowl of the steaming soup.

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Once all of the remnants of the dinner had been cleared away – Meg had insisted on helping in spite of Fraser's protests – the issue of sleeping arrangement once again played on Fraser's mind. Perhaps sleeping arrangements was not quite the right term, he planned on insisting that she remained in the bed so that was no problem, no, the issue he was having trouble with was the thought of her sleeping so close to him. The cabin was relatively open plan, there was only a small divider between the bedroom and the main living area, and he had no doubts that he would be able to hear every breathe she took. No, sleeping tonight was not going to be easy.

As Meg walked back into the living area, she noticed that the Mountie was looking somewhat distracted. She wondered what he was thinking about, although she guessed it could be any number of the things that he had had to deal with in the hours since arriving here.

"Fraser?" The time it took for him to respond to the question in her voice told Meg what she had already expected. The Mountie was tired. Not surprising given the journey he had made today, and the mental task of having to deal with a living, breathing Inspector holed up in his cabin. When he did finally acknowledge her presence, his face was once again the impenetrable mask he so often used around her.

"Ma'am. I'm sorry, I was just thinking. Did you say something?"

"I think it's time you went to sleep Fraser, you've had a long day and you look tired."

"I'm fine, really ma'am. If there is something you need…"

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, Fraser. May I remind you that I was your boss, not the other way round." Her voice had taken on a sharper tone. With everything that was going on, Meg was not in the mood to deal with an obviously tired Mountie who was stubbornly refusing to go to bed.

"I'm well aware of that ma'am, but I was just thinking that it would be easier if you kept the bed, as I am more than happy to sleep on the sofa."

"It's your cabin, Fraser. And besides," she added, as he started to protest again, "I haven't been using the bedroom anyway. The couch has been more than adequate, and I would prefer to read a little before I retire."

Realising that further protest would only lead to an argument he was unlikely to win, Fraser relented, though he was sure he could hear his grandmother's voice in his head, berating him for not insisting that she take the bed.

As he moved towards the small bathroom, Fraser frowned slightly, wondering why she had been sleeping on the sofa when the bed was undoubtedly more comfortable. He could see no logical reason to remain in the living area during the night, especially as she would not have been expecting visitors.

Meg watched as Fraser moved into the bathroom. There was no way she could tell him that sleeping in his bed would have been too much for her. Just moving around the living area sent her imagination into overdrive. She could picture everything, from him waking in the morning, getting himself breakfast, feeding Diefenbaker, to him going to bed at night, reading by the small lamp beside his bed. No, being here was hard enough already, she couldn't even think about lying in his bed each night.

Meg shook her head, trying to clear the dangerous thoughts from her mind, cursing Ottawa for deciding that his cabin would be the perfect hide-out. Apparently getting her out of the country so soon after her 'death' was too much of a risk. Hide out for a short time, they had said, you'll be out of the country and safe in no time. Yeah right. In the end, even Fraser had got to the cabin before they even found out he had left Chicago. She did not want to think about how easy it would be for anyone else to find her, especially when those people had far more resources than those few people who knew she was alive.

Stop it Meg, she mentally chastised herself. Fraser didn't find you, he didn't even know you were alive. He simply came for a holiday and happened to come across you, that's all. Even so, if anyone else were to discover her death was not all it had seemed, she didn't even want to consider the consequences, not just for herself, but for everyone around her as well.

At that point Meg found any thoughts of danger pushed firmly from her mind, as Fraser emerged from the bathroom, dressed only in his white boxer shorts and vest. In fact, Meg found herself unable to form a single coherent thought. A blush began to stain Fraser's usually pale cheeks, as he realised that his ex-superior officer was staring at him in a way Ottawa would definitely not approve of, should they ever witness it. The truth was, he had been so busy thinking about her whilst in the bathroom, he had actually forgotten that she was sitting just outside in the main room, and so had walked out in his usual summer bed attire.

"Um, pardon me ma'am, I was just going to bed. Is there anything you need?"

Meg shook her head mutely, still unable to top staring at him.

"Ah, well, goodnight then." Fraser smiled slightly before moving towards the divide that separated the living area and the bedroom.

"Goodnight Fraser." Meg finally managed to find her voice. The shock of seeing him, seeing so much of him, out of uniform and totally relaxed, had shaken her. She hadn't been expecting it, or the feelings that it evoked within her.

Oh God Meg, how are you going to do this? How could you even have considered staying here with him? You should have packed up and ran the moment he walked through the door this afternoon. Even as she thought this, she knew that that would not have been fair on him. As hard as this was on her, she owed it to him to explain.

Sighing, Meg reached into her bag and drew out a book she had taken before leaving. She curled up on the sofa, knowing it would be a long time before she got to sleep that night, and started to read.