Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N: Thank you to Tiffany for her kind review. I am glad you are enjoying it. I would have updated sooner, only I went on holiday to... yep, you guessed it - Canada! Anyway, on with the story...

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Fraser had lain awake for a long time, before finally drifting off into restless sleep, where dreams persisted into even the most tired parts of his brain. It was still the early hours of the morning when he re-awoke, though he was unaware at first what had awoken him. It was then that he heard the door being gently closed. Instantly wide awake, his thoughts on intruders, he slipped silently out of the bed and stood flat against the wall, peering around the divider, he was taken aback to see the room completely empty. Puzzled, Fraser entered further into the room, still edgy, as though he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He had definitely heard the door, so if no one had come in, Meg must have gone out.

This only served to concern him further. It was dark, barely even morning, and he doubted the temperature was comfortable for someone more used to the southern Canadian climate. So why had she gone outside? And why wasn't she asleep?

Slipping on some clothes, Fraser ventured outside in search of his guest. He didn't have to look far. Sitting on the edge of the porch, wrapped in the blanket from the sofa, sat Meg, staring out into the darkness.

"Ma'am?"

"I thought I asked you to call me Meg."

"Yes ma'am." She could hear the question, the concern, in his voice. He wanted to know what she was doing, but how could she tell him when she wasn't entirely sure herself? "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine Fraser, I just fancied some air."

"You must be freezing out here." Looking at the blanket she sat wrapped in, it wasn't really a question but rather a statement.

"It's not that bad. I kind of like the cold, it makes everything numb." Her voice sounded distant, as though it was coming from somewhere far away.

"That's not good ma'am. I think we should go inside now." Although he knew the temperature was not truly dangerous, not at this time of the year, Fraser was still concerned by her being outside at that time of night without even a winter coat.

"You go, I think I'm going to sit here a while longer."

Fraser paused, knowing that to argue with her would only cause her to remain outside for even longer. Instead, he sat down next to her on the porch. She barely even glanced at him as he settled down beside her. Her lack of response was beginning to concern him.

"It's so peaceful at night, when even the wolves are silent," he said, striving for some semblance of a normal conversation. "When I first moved to Chicago, it was the lack of quiet that took me the longest to get used to."

Meg remained silent, her eyes fixed firmly ahead, staring straight out into the night. Fraser decided to be content to just sit here and hope that maybe she would talk to him in her own time.

The silence between them had been steadily growing, until it reached the point where Fraser could not take it any more. He was not used to this complete and utter silence from Meg Thatcher. He was used to her stubbornness, her anger, the perfection she demanded from herself and everyone around her. These were aspects of her personality he was used to and knew how to deal with. But this complete lack of communication was unnerving. Finally deciding that he had to say something, Fraser took a deep breath.

"Ma'am?" He spoke quietly, almost afraid to disturb her thoughts. "Is there something you're not telling me? About the case, I mean? It's just, you seem, I don't know…"

"I've told you everything you need to know, Fraser." The tone of her voice told him that this was not a subject that was going to be discussed further. But still, Fraser felt that he deserved to know what it was she was running from. He had no doubt there was more to it than she was telling him.

"With all due respect ma'am, I don't think you have."

"It's none of your business!" She snapped, standing up and moving towards the entrance of the cabin.

"I think it is."

"Well you're wrong." She had reached the front door now and, pushing it open forcibly, she moved inside.

Fraser followed her in, determined not to let this rest. "Why won't you trust me?"

Meg turned to face him, sighing. "I do trust you, Fraser, but you need to trust me that this is something that you are better off not knowing."

"That doesn't matter to me. I want to help you, but I can't do that if you won't tell me what is going on. And not just the edited version you have given me. I want to know everything."

"I can't do that, Fraser. I'm leaving the country soon, so the less you know the better. When I go, you have to forget I was ever here. You have to go on like I'm dead."

"I don't think I can do that."

"Well you're going to have to." Her tone was snappish again. "I've worked too hard for you to ruin everything because you can't stop interfering in everyone else business."

An expression of hurt momentarily flitted across his face. It passed quickly, but not so fast that Meg hadn't noticed. She knew that what she had said was unfair, but she needed Fraser to stop thinking about helping her on this case. The more involved he got, the more danger he would be in, and she couldn't risk that. No, it was better he didn't know.

"I'm tired, Fraser, and so are you. I suggest we both get some rest."

"Yes ma'am." His comment made her raise her head to look up at him. His tone had taken on an edge of mocking sarcasm, and it was an edge Meg was not used to hearing. In fact, she could not think of a single other time that she had heard any type of derogatory tone in his voice.

"I'm sorry, but I promise you it's better this way."

She received no reply, except for a curt "Goodnight, ma'am," as he walked out of the living area and back into the bedroom.

Meg sank down onto the sofa, pulling the blanket tightly around her, though she was sure the cold she felt was not from the lack of warmth within the cabin.

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The morning broke bright and clear. Sun streamed in through the windows, throwing light on the scene inside of the cabin. Meg was sat in her familiar place on the sofa, though she was now dressed and sipping coffee.

As Fraser emerged, he took in the appearance of the woman across from him. Her brown eyes, rimmed with dark circles, contained a distant look that he was struggling to place. She seemed troubled, though her eyes contained more then just the concerned look he was used to seeing when she was worried about a case. Instead, she looked almost haunted, as though she was waiting for the sky to fall down around her.

"Did you sleep?"

She was about to reply when she looked up. Her eyes met his and she knew that, if she lied, he would know.

"A bit."

He nodded, understanding.

"I need to apologise for last night."

Fraser cut her off. "There's no need, ma'am, I understand."

"It's Meg, Fraser. And I didn't mean what I said. I do trust you, more than I think you realise. It's just that I don't think you realise how much danger getting involved with this can put you and everyone you care about in. It's more than your simple solve and arrest case, Fraser."

"I realise that, but I want to help, in any way that I can."

"Even if that means putting your friends in danger, including Detective Vecchio and his family?" Meg stood up to face him, knowing her next question was harsh, but it had to be. "Do you honestly think you have the right to make that decision?"

Fraser refused to give in to her pressure. "What about you?" he asked, not looking away. "You have a responsibility to protect the people of Canada and yet you're running from criminals."

"Perhaps more people are being protected by me disappearing, than would be if I stayed. Did you think of that?"

"Running away is never the answer," he retorted. She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, make her angry enough so that she would tell him her reasons behind leaving, but it wasn't going to work, not this time, there was too much at stake for her to let her anger get the better of her.

"Don't be so naive, Fraser. Sometimes running away is exactly the answer." She made to move past him, but Fraser reached out to hold on to her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Her eyes flashed warningly at him as she turned on him. "Let go." The voice that issued the command was as cold as ice.

"I want to know what's going on." Fraser's voice was equally as commanding, though not as cold. It was a voice Meg had never heard him use before and she had to admit, it scared her just a little. Determined not to let him intimidate her, she stood her ground.

"It's none of your business. Now let me go." Meg felt the pressure on her arm increase slightly and she realised that this was possibly the first time she has seen her second in command truly angry. The look in his eyes was starting to scare her, as she suddenly realised that she was out of her depth. She was in his territory now, a place where he was used to being in control. A split second later though, the pressure was gone, and Meg was able to brush past him and out of the door.

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Outside, letting the cold air numb the feelings he had stirred within her, Meg began to walk. She had no idea where she was going, she just knew she had to get away from the cabin, away from the intensity she had seen in Fraser's eyes.

She walked until she could no longer see the cabin and she was sure not even Fraser's sharp eyes could follow her movements. Finding a small cluster of rocks, she sank down onto one of the smoother ones. Staring out across the endless snow, the scene in the cabin played out relentlessly in her head.

He was angry, that much she knew, but she didn't understand why. Yes, she understood Fraser's stubbornness when it came to helping people, but that was way beyond anything she had ever witnessed before. It was as though he was absolutely determined to help her, and was refusing point blank to listen to any reason why he was better off out of it.

A small voice inside her head raised the question she had been trying so desperately to ignore since his appearance. Why was this so important to him? Why was he so determined to help solve this case?

I don't want to think about this, she thought, but it was too late. She has allowed the thoughts to start, and now the wave would not be stopped. Everything that had happened in the last few years came flooding into her head, leaving her overwhelmed. She could remember everything, from their first meeting, to the times when their eyes would meet for just a little bit longer than was necessary or proper, to the kiss on the train.

She jolted then, remembering the circumstances around that kiss. She had thought he was dead, knocked from the train by her stupid mistake. As she had watched him fall, her body had felt numb. She couldn't seem to comprehend what had happened. Everything was confused. Her brain was telling her he was dead, but her heart refused to believe it. And then he'd reappeared out of nowhere.

"Oh God," Meg breathed, bringing her hands up to run through her hair. As much as she had tried to forget, it seemed that every single detail of that time had engrained itself on her memory. The way he had looked at her when she had told him she had grieved for him, his head slightly tilted to the side, eyes staring penetratingly into hers, before he had uttered that complement for the first time. Three little words, 'red suits you', and he had her floored.

How can you let one man have so much control over you, Meg? You really are pathetic. But it made no difference, no matter how often she told herself that. She would be able to pretend that she was over it, pretend that his presence had no impact on her, but then something small and stupid would trigger the memory of what had happened next. She still didn't understand how the argument on the roof of the train had changed track so suddenly. One minute she was angry, yelling at him for assuming that she would gladly kill a train load of innocents, and then the next he was standing so close, telling her he was very much aware that she had a heart, one that beats just the same as his. And then his lips had met hers in a kiss so passionate that she thought she would drown. He'd held her so tightly, and in that instant she never wanted him to let go. She'd wanted to feel those strong arms around her forever, his lips pressed against hers, his tongue gently exploring the contours of her mouth. But Sergeant Frobisher had interrupted and the kiss had ended as suddenly as it had started.

Meg exhaled the breath she had not been aware she was holding, feeling her chest shudder slightly as the emotions rolled over her. She wondered if Fraser had felt the way she had on the train, when she thought he was dead. Meg felt her eyes start to prickle, unshed tears threatening to break through her defences and overcome her. Until now, she had refused to let herself think about him, let alone consider how her departure would affect him. But now, after seeing the anger in his eyes, anger that was directed straight at her, she couldn't help but think that perhaps she hadn't been fair to him. If only he had stayed in Chicago, she would not have had to face these feelings. Meg knew she was being selfish, but she was leaving here soon anyway, and thinking about these things was only going to make it harder in the long run.

"Get a grip Meg," she told herself sternly. She looked back the way she had come, across the snow from the cabin. She realised that a part of her did not want to go back there, knowing that when she did he would be there, his clear blue eyes watching her, trying to figure out what she was hiding from him. But the other half of her desperately wanted to return, to walk into the cabin and have him hold her while she told him every horrible little thing that had been going on in the last couple of months. But she knew that could never happen. Any day now she was going to have to leave the relative safety of his home and get on a plane, saying goodbye to the country she loved, and the man she so desperately wanted to stay with.

She hated him for coming here, making it so much harder on her. Meg felt the anger welling up inside of her. This was all his fault anyway. If he hadn't been so damn nice all of the time, she wouldn't have cared what happened to him. There would have been no need for any of this. He could hate her and blame her as much as he wanted, but part of this was his fault, and he should take responsibility for it.

Standing up from the rock, Meg strode back across the snow. Storming up the stairs, she pushed open the door forcibly, letting it bang back against the wall. Standing in the doorway, Meg eyes met Fraser's across the room. There was a wariness in his expression which told her that he was prepared for her wrath.

------

Watching her stand framed against the white backdrop of the snow outside, Fraser could sense the anger radiating off of her. He knew he would have to answer for his earlier actions, but he had just wanted her to see how much she meant to him. "I'm sorry…" he began, when it seemed she was not going to.

"Don't." Meg's voice was commanding, broaching no arguments. "I don't care if you're sorry, or if you just wanted to help, or any of that shit. I will not have you blame me for everything that is happening. This is not entirely my fault, and I will not take all the blame here. I have done everything in my power to protect the people I swore to protect, and yet somehow people I care about still end up dead, and nothing I do seems to make any difference. So you know what, Fraser? Yes, I'm leaving. I'm getting on a plane and I'm leaving everyone to get on with their lives. Trust me, they… you are better off not knowing me." When she'd finished, her eyes were blazing. Silence hung heavily in the room, broken only by the occasional whine for Diefenbaker.

Fraser studied her levelly, wondering how he was going to make her see that his life could never be better off without her. He wanted her so much, but he feared telling her the truth now would only drive her further from him. But still, he had to try. "I never blamed you."

Meg snort of derision interrupted him. Fraser met her eyes, taking a deep breath, he continued. "I didn't. I just don't understand why you couldn't tell me what was happening. I could have been a part of it, I could have helped."

Meg looked away sadly. "No, you couldn't. You would only have ended up hurt."

"Why? I don't understand, there was nothing that would have tied me to you, other than us working together at the Consulate, and that tie is there anyway."

Meg regarded him closely, considering how much it was safe to tell him. There was a tie between them, he was right there, but he couldn't possibly understand exactly how dangerous that tie could be.

"After Matt died, I received a package. Inside were photographs of his body." Meg paused slightly, trying to steady here voice, "and there were others too…"

"Meg…"

"Photographs of everyone I knew – where they lived, where they worked, every detail of their lives. I'm not stupid Fraser, I got the message, and that's why I left. It had to look like I was dead, anything else and these people would have gone after everybody close to me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise." Fraser's voice was soft, the guilt of forcing her to reveal something that was obviously very painful for her was now weighing heavily on him. He should never have pushed her so far.

"It's not your fault, Fraser. Perhaps there was something else I could have done, but there wasn't enough time, I had to make a decision, regardless of whether or not it was the right one."

Fraser watched Meg's eyes drop to the floor, heavy with a mixture of emotions he was unable to identify in the pool of rich ebony.

"You did the right thing."

"Yes, well you're still alive, so I guess it hasn't completely backfired." Too late Meg realised what she had said. Fraser looked both stunned and confused.

"I was included in the package?"

Meg nodded silently.

"But why? I, we…"

"I guess they thought I would do my best to protect the image of the RCMP. Having another member of the force murdered would not look good. How can we protect the citizens of Canada if we can't protect one of our own?" Meg couldn't look him in the eye. She just hoped that he would accept her explanation and leave it at that.

Fraser cocked his head to one side, studying her. There was more to it than simply protecting the RCMP image, that he was sure of. But what else, he didn't know.

"Is that the only reason?"

"Fraser…" Her voice carried a tone that was warning him, begging him not to pursue this.

"Please, I need to know."

"What's done is done, it's not important." She turned towards the kitchen, looking for something to occupy her, to take her away from this conversation.

"It is to me. If you gave up everything to protect me, I want to know." His voice was demanding again. Meg didn't understand why he was being so adamant about this. It wasn't as though they had been together when he left, hell, they hadn't ever been together.

"You weren't the only one on the list, Fraser. I did what I did to protect everyone, not just you."

He was silent for a long while then, simply sitting on the sofa, staring into the fire. Meg remained stood in the kitchen, though she found she was unable to do anything but watch him. He deserved the truth, but it was more than she could give him right now. Meg looked away. He deserved more than her. He deserved someone who would make him happy, someone who could look after him and let him look after them, but that wasn't her. Meg sighed, she was too used to looking after herself. Start relying on other people and you get hurt. She'd learnt that lesson a long time ago, but it didn't make it any easier, especially when she was faced with a man so honest and good that he made her want to trust him with her heart.

"When they told me you were dead, I didn't want to believe it." His voice broke her from her reverie. It sounded distant, like he was much further than just across the room. "I couldn't believe it, because that would mean that I'd been a coward, again."

"How could my death make you a coward Fraser?" Meg asked, thinking she had never met a person less likely to show cowardice than Benton Fraser.

"Because I was too scared to defy orders, to cowardly to tell you how I felt, and because of that, I'd just lost the only person I…" Fraser trailed off, knowing he had already said too much, but he just couldn't seem to stop himself. The rollercoaster of emotions he had felt since leaving Chicago was taking its toll, he felt raw and he knew if he didn't tell her now, she would leave and he really would have lost her for good.

"I'm sorry," Meg moved towards him, kneeling down in front of the sofa, her brown eyes searching his blue ones. "I never meant to hurt you. I just thought if I stayed, you'd get hurt, and I'd never be able to forgive myself for that. I'm so sorry."