Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Only a few more chapters left now.

-----------

Once the wheels had been set in motion, everything moved quickly. The warrants for evidence and arrests were issued, the suspects remanded in custody. The date for the hearing was set only a short time from then. Apparently the judge wanted the trial fast-tracked to try to prevent any evidence or witness tampering.

As happy as he was that justice was being done, at that moment, thoughts of Canadian trials were far from the forefront of his mind. Stepping off of the plane into the warm French summer, Fraser looked around him. His conversation with Mike had not been entirely enlightening. As far as the superintendent was aware, Meg was in France. Paris to be precise. But where exactly, he didn't know. They had both decided it was safer if he didn't know any particular details of her location. She called in every once in a while, but Mike wasn't expecting a call any time soon.

So Fraser had applied for, and received, extended leave from the force. Phoning Ray, he had told him that a friend was in trouble, that he was going to help and may not be able to return to Chicago for some time. Ray had accepted this, and told his friend to stay in touch, to call if he needed anything. Fraser couldn't tell him how grateful he was for his friendship, he just hoped Ray would forgive him for deceiving him all this time. Hopefully he would understand.

So here he was, landing in Paris in the height of the tourist season, looking for a single person in a city of millions. He had an idea where to start though. He could remember a time in Chicago when he had overheard her talking to an art curator. Apparently she had spent a summer at the Sorbonne, studying the arts. Fraser knew it was a long shot, but perhaps she had returned to a place that was familiar to her, a tiny bit of comfort in an otherwise lonely environment.

Hailing a taxi, Fraser explained where he wanted to go and then held on to his seat as the cab accelerated around the corner and into the Parisian traffic.

------

A short while later, he was walking in the midday sun around the university campus. Not quite sure exactly what he was looking for, he found himself standing in front of the admissions office. Deciding it was worth a try, he entered the building. Inside, the air conditioning was refreshingly cool in comparison to the heat outside. Fraser moved towards the front desk, where an elderly lady sat reading a newspaper.

"Excuse me, madam."

"Oui?" The lady looked up at the gentleman who had entered her office. It was rare for people to want to enrol at the university in the middle of the summer – the summer courses had already begun and the autumn semester would be full by now. Perhaps he was just lost, looking for a tourist attraction, he had sounded American.

Fraser switched languages. "I was wondering if you could help me," he asked in flawless French. "I am trying to track down a friend of mine who recently moved to the city. Unfortunately I have lost her address, but I believe she may have taken a course here at the university. Is there any chance you could tell me if she's enrolled here?"

"I'm afraid I can't give out the addresses of our students, sir."

"That's OK madam, I only need to know if she is enrolled here. It really would mean a lot to me to be able to see her again, and I know it would mean a lot to her too." Fraser looked beseechingly at the elderly lady, hoping she would help him.

The woman looked at the gentleman stood on the other side of her desk. This woman was obviously an old girlfriend of some sort. What harm could it do to tell him if she was enrolled here or not? It wasn't as though she was giving out any private information and besides, if he had come all the way from America to see her, well, if it was her, she would want a man this polite and handsome looking her up when he came to her city.

"Ok, what's her name?"

"Thank you so much. It's Katherine Paige." Mike had given him the name on the documents they had supplied her with when she left the country, and told him that she had originally set out for England, but moved on to France following that. As far as he knew, there would be no need for her to change those documents, and she should still be going by that assumed name.

After a moment or two, the woman on the desk looked up. "Oui, we have a Katherine Paige registered here for an evening arts class."

"Thank you kindly, merci, merci." The look on the young man's face told her she had done the right thing in giving out this information. If the woman in question looked even half as happy to see him as he did at the mere thought of seeing her, well, that was a reunion the admissions officer knew she would pay to see any day.

As Fraser left the building, he picked up a leaflet detailing the evening classes run by the university. Two were arts-based – one in sculpture, and the other in classic art and painting. The second one on the list was on this evening, starting at 7.30 pm. As he considered what to do with his time until then, he realised that she may not even be enrolled on that course. Deciding that he needed to freshen up after the long flight over here, he began to search for a hotel. Finding a modest-looking hotel not too far from the campus, Fraser paid for a room and headed up for a shower.

The hours seemed to drag by as he waited for evening to arrive. After a light dinner in the hotel restaurant, Fraser headed back out into the streets of Paris. The evenings had thankfully lost some of the heat of the earlier day, though it was still pleasantly warm outside. Re-entering the campus, Fraser made his way to the building he had found earlier, in which the evening class was being held. The grassy campus had many benches and seats where students and visitors could enjoy a picnic or simply sit and watch the world go by. Fraser chose a bench away from the main path, where he could see the entrance to the building, but where he was not in obvious sight.

He was early, but he did not want to miss her arrival, if she was coming. As the first people started to arrive, Fraser sat up straighter. He was already tense at the thought of seeing her again after all this time, but now he was positively sitting on the edge of his seat. Would she have changed? Would he even recognise her if he saw her?

More people arrived and Fraser found himself searching their faces, desperately hoping to find the one he was looking for. In the end it was not her face that caught his attention. The woman walking towards the entrance did not look around her once, but there was something familiar about her. Her hair was a deep auburn red and longer than Meg's had been last time he had seen her, and yet the way she moved, as though on a purpose yet seemingly relaxed, reminded him of her. She was almost at the entrance now. If only she would look around, he would know. The hair might be different, but there was no way she could change her eyes, those eyes he could lose himself in. Turn around, please, he silently willed her to look in his direction. She was at the door now, but in that instant between pulling it open and entering the building, she glanced behind her, and he knew. He had found her.

She was gone before he could react, but she would be back, and this time he wouldn't be so slow. Settling himself back onto the bench he had almost fallen off, leaning so far forward as he had in his need to see the mystery woman's face, he let the thoughts of everything he had wanted to say over the past two years swirl round in his brain.

------