Title: Thatcher's Children

Author: Kris

Email: KrisCatherine@yahoo.com

Pairing: Fraser/Thatcher

Authors Note: A really special thanks to Laura who helped me so

much with this. This is dedicated to you.

Summary: Just read, I am not going to spoil it for you.

**Oh if you feel like this needs a second part, PLEASE

email me**

It was a cold and rainy night in Chicago. In early spring it was

a usual occurrence, but still Inspector Thatcher hated it. She

arrived home late Friday night from the Consulate where she had

been doing paperwork, of all things. The last case that Fraser

had been on threw her for a loop, although she would never admit

it to anyone.

After a small dinner she got ready for bed. Thatcher thought of

everything that had happened: the children, the crimes that were

committed, and the death. It all seemed so real...so real that it

hit home. She was definitely going to have nightmares about this

case for a while.

Thatcher looked around her bedroom for a moment and let out a

long sigh. She was alone. Always alone. What happened if she

woke up from a nightmare? To whom would she turn? There was no

one. Just like the children, the victims. They had no one as

well.

'Great something I can identify with...the victims.' She mumbled

and drew the comforter up around her neck. She craved safety and

this was as close as she was going to get.

Thatcher fell into a saddened sleep.

***************

She was running. Sweat was dripping from her forehead into her

eyes. As she cursed and swiped it away, Meg kept running.

Suddenly she stopped and took in her surroundings. Trees, grass,

the night sky, where was she?

Then she saw it again and began to run again, following a light.

Meg had no idea why, but she had this urge to follow and find out

what it was eventually leading her to.

Leaves crumpled under her bare feet and twigs snapped. Meg looked

down suddenly and saw her feet. She was going to pay in the

morning. All of a sudden she heard a voice and looked around her.

'Help me,' was all it said and then it was gone.

Meg stood there in confusion; she had no idea what was happening.

She then saw the light start to move once again to stop only

thirty feet from her. Slowly she made her way over to it and

dropped to her knees.

As suddenly as this all started she began to dig and dig. There

was no reason for this, but the need to dig was so dominant and

there was no way of getting around it.

Meg stopped, she had gotten not a foot into the ground and

something was peering out from the ground. She started to clear

it away and gasped when she realized what it was.

****************

Thatcher awoke with a start. She was gasping for air and

sweating. She took in her surroundings and noticed she was still

in bed.

'That is a good sign,' she said to herself and laid back down on

the pillows.

Just then the memories of the dream came back to her.

'Oh God! The children. What happened?' she said to herself and

let out a long sigh.

Thatcher reached over, looked at her alarm clock and decided that

she was not going to get any more sleep with the faces of those

children still fresh in her mind. She closed her eyes and wished

them to go away. Why were they coming to her?

As she began to stand she winced in pain. 'Ouch.' Thatcher

looked down at her feet for a moment and noticed that they were

covered in dirt, cut up in certain places and bruised.

Her mind reeled in the possibilities of how this could have

happened to her. Thatcher sat back down on the edge of her bed

and silently cried for what was happening to her, to those

nameless children.

Thatcher finally made it to her kitchen where she now sat holding

a cup of tea. She had a writing tablet next to her. She had found

that writing things down often helped her figure things out...come

to a conclusion about things, but it hadn't worked this time.

Not yet, anyway.

She decided to head back to the consulate. She thought she could

get some work done to forget about what she had just seen in her

dreams. She was scared and she didn't like it at all.

When Thatcher arrived it was just short of four am. No one was

there yet. The building was dark, cold and empty. Just like she

felt.

She opened the big doors and quietly closed them behind her,

shutting out the rest of the world behind her.

About an hour later she sat in her office with a cup of coffee

carefully and slowly going over paperwork. Thatcher kept nodding

off to sleep every now and then. She kept reminding herself that

she couldn't sleep; when sleep came the nightmares came. That

just was not acceptable.

Thatcher rubbed her feet together and flinched at the pain. She

cleaned her feet and got ready for work, realizing that sneakers

were in order instead of her usual pumps.

She looked out the window. She wondered how her life would be

different if she chose a life with a husband, children and a

house with a white picket fence. Her mind drifted back to the

proposal that Fraser made a while ago, about having children. She

smiled. The thing was that's what she wanted deep down inside.

She rested her head in her hands and closed her eyes. Fraser.

That was a totally different topic completely. In actuality it

wasn't.

She removed a pen and paper and began to write down her ideas on

what was happening to her at night; any details from the dreams

she could remember.

As she sat there, her eyes closed and she again drifted into a

restless sleep.

**********************

"Sir," Fraser asked as he walked into her office. He had heard

her cries when he first walked into the consulate that morning.

He immediately thought she was in danger, and ran toward her

office.

Fraser found her asleep, wrapped up in a dream she was having.

"Ma'am, please wake up," Fraser asked again, resting his hands on

her shoulders.

Thatcher mumbled something in her sleep but did not awaken.

"Inspector," Fraser said once again.

"Huh!" She immediately woke up and took in her surroundings. She

saw Fraser looking at her nervously.

"Are you all right, Sir?" he asked her.

All of the sudden she broke down. She couldn't take much more of

this. Even though this had started a few days ago, this time it

was getting more and more real.

"Yes, Constable. I am fine." She looked up at him for a moment,

"You can return to your duties."

"Yes Ma'am," Fraser replied and turned away from her, concerned.

He had never seen her like this before. Many times before they

had both been in trouble, seen things that no one else should

have or could have, but she was never like this.

Fraser was worried.

The rest of the day Thatcher spent alone in her office, avoiding

everyone and everything.

As she sat trying to get the paper work done her mind drifted to

the children, the light that brought her to their lonely graves.

'Why did they choose me?' She slowly wrote on a pad of paper next

to her.

'Does this have to do with the past case?'

'Am I effected because of this uncontrollable need to have

children over the last few months?'

'How am I going to stop this?'

'Should I tell Fraser?'

That last question stared back at her. She had known since these

dreams started that she would have to tell someone. It was

getting to be too much to bear alone.

***************

Later that afternoon, Fraser was with Ray.

"Fraser, buddy, what's going on?" Stan asked as Fraser got in his

car.

He didn't hear Stan.

"Hey, did you hear me Fraser?" Stan repeated.

"Oh sorry Stan, I was...distracted..." Fraser said as he looked

back out the window.

"Anything you want to talk about, buddy?"

"Stan, have there been any...any missing child reports lately?"

Fraser asked.

"This is Chicago Fraser. Sad but true. Yes everyday there are."

Stan returned to the road, "Why do you ask?"

"Inspector Thatcher said something about missing children this

morning."

"Well, see what you can get out of her later on Frase, maybe I

can help her." He smiled, "What would she want with children

anyway. I mean I don't actually peg her for the motherly type

Fraser."

"Stan, there is a lot you don't know about the Inspector." Fraser

said as he trailed off.

"Hey it's ok Fraser. Whatever man. If you need me you know where

to find me."

***************

About six o'clock Thatcher sat at her desk and rubbed her eyes.

She had been doing paperwork all day. Her eyes were killing her.

Thatcher got up and walked to the kitchen. She noticed that she

was all alone at the consulate. 'Even Fraser is out.' She mumbled

and continued on her way to get some tea.

'This is going to be a long night.' She said to no one in

particular.

Thatcher had no plans on going home. Home was where the

nightmares were and it was a place she did not want to go. She

gathered up her over night bag from the closet when she returned

to her office and took out a few items.

A few hours later she lay down on her sofa in her office and

slowly drifted off into a restless sleep. It was not long before

the dreams followed her to the consulate.

She wasn't safe anywhere.

Thatcher was running through a wooded area, beads of sweat

forming at her hairline as she ran through a bunch of trees. She

had to find them this time. They had to be safe.

'No please. Let me be in time,' she pleaded as she stopped and

took in her surrounding.

The place seemed familiar to her in an odd sense.

There was the light again. 'Must follow the light,' she said as

she turned and was off running again.

Branches crackled and leaves snapped. Sticks at her feet broke

in half as she ran through the trees towards her destination.

'I am coming, please hold on,' she called out.

'Tell me where you are!' Thatcher demanded as once again she

stopped and turned in a complete circle unknowing what direction

to follow.

As if something was trying to show her the path, a direction a

light gleamed through the high trees to a clearing. The spot look

illuminated, heavenly almost.

Thatcher ran toward the spot, knowing exactly what she would

find. Slowly tears ran down her face at the sadness of this.

As she bent down to the earth and watched the small grains of

dirt fall through her fingers, she began to dig faster.

'Where are you?'

'Tell me where you are!'

Suddenly she came across the same thing she had before, a tiny

rib cage. Thatcher ran her shaking hands over the fragile bones

and cried out for the children who lay beneath her.

After a while she stood and took in her surroundings. There had

to be something that she would recognize.

'Help me, give me a clue of where I am,' she called out to anyone

who would hear her.

Thatcher began to slowly walk back the way she had come. Suddenly

she stopped and looked right in front of her. The same light

that illuminated the spot where the children lay was highlighting

a statue off in the distance.

'Where have I seen that before?' Thatcher said to herself as she

ran again toward it.

When she approached the statue she slowly walked around it, her

hands gently running over the stiff surface. She knew that she

had seen this before; all she had to do was figure out where she

had seen it.

Mentally putting it into her memory she turned and started to

walk away, leaving the children behind.

'I have to get help. I have to bring those children home,' she

said to herself as she walked even faster.

********************

Fraser had entered the consulate early the next day. He was on

duty early and wanted to get things settled before he started.

'Great. Another long day on duty.' He said to himself as he made

his way toward his office.

Dief looked up at him, knowing what he was thinking and Fraser

had to respond.

"It's not what you think..." He paused. "Really."

Dief barked and walked into Fraser's office and took the spot

next to his desk.

"Dief..." Fraser started to say when a sound came from Inspector

Thatcher's office.

Slowly he made his way to her office, and gently pushed open the

door.

When he opened the door what he saw startled him. Thatcher was

lying on her sofa half-covered with a blanket, shaking profusely.

It looked like she was in the midst of a horrible dream. Fraser

had no choice but to try and wake her.

He called her name, but she continued to sleep. He touched her

shoulder and shook her gently. He waited, but when there was no

change in her behavior he shook her more aggressively. She

twitched when her eyes flew open and Fraser jumped back. "I'm

sorry, ma'am. You...you seemed to be having a...dream?"

She sat up. "Yes, yes I was, but...but it isn't important."

Fraser shifted a little. "Inspector, it certainly isn't my place

to...to pry, but..."

She cut him off. "No, it isn't," she said less harshly than he

expected. She rubbed her eyes. "I simply haven't been getting

enough sleep. That's all."

Fraser nodded. "Understood." He began to leave, but stopped

himself. "It's just that it...it seems like there is something

more..." he searched for the word "something deeper."

She paused a moment. "There isn't," she said softly.

"It's just that, as your liaison officer," he paused and spoke

softly and quickly. "As your friend..." He almost regretted

saying the words. "I hope you would feel you could confide in

me."

"I've been having these...these dreams." She stopped herself. She

realized she shouldn't be sharing, especially when she didn't

understand them enough to share. "I can't really tell you about

them."

Fraser cleared his throat. "That is your choice, of course, but I

am always here to listen." He paused. She looked disturbed,

distracted. "Are you certain?"

"You know, I'm already beginning to forget them. You know the way

dreams just float right out of your head..."

***************************

Later on

Stan was waiting for Fraser when he got off duty outside the

consulate.

"Hey Frase. How's it goin' today?"

"Hello Stan, I am fine." Fraser replied as he closed the

passenger side door.

They drove in silence for a while before Fraser spoke up again.

"Stan, did you find anything out on the missing children I asked

you about the other day?"

Stan looked over at Fraser then back at the road. Something was

not right. Fraser did not seem like Fraser; he looked depressed

and worried about something or someone. Stan smiled. He was

going to help that was not even a question.

"Is there somethin' you want to talk about Frase?" Stan looked

back in front of him again. "What is all this talk about missing

children?"

"I am worried about Inspector Thatcher. She is having dreams of

some sort about missing children."

"You said that the other day. Do you have any idea why?"

"No."

"Did she give you any details?" Stan asked.

"No."

"Well, I did get a list of missing children, Frase, and just in

the Chicago there are thousands."

A heavy sigh came from the seat next to him. This was not going

to be easy. Inspector Thatcher was going to have to help

somewhere down the line.

"What do you know about dreams?" Fraser asked later that day.

"Well, besides that they are something you do when you are

sleeping? Not much Frase."

When he didn't respond Stan continued. This was too good not to

say anything.

"What? Is the Inspector having some kinky dreams?"

Fraser had to smile. "No I am afraid not Stan. She mentioned

something about dreams and I was just wondering how much you knew

about them."

"Okay, Frase."

****************

By late afternoon Thatcher had put it off long enough. She had to

find the statue. It might be the only link to the children. She

closed all of her files and stacked the papers on her desk before

turning on her computer.

'Let's see if I can find you,' she stated to no one in

particular.

The voices were still coming to her in the late afternoon; she

knew night would be worse.

****************

By the time Fraser had returned to the consulate that evening, he

saw that Inspector Thatcher's office light was still on. There

was no sign of Turnbull or any of the other office staff.

He walked up to her office door and gently knocked.

"It's open," she replied.

"Sir."

"Yes, Constable. What can I do for you?" she asked curtly.

"I...ah...are you all right sir?"

"Yes, Constable, I am fine." Thatcher finally looked up at him

for the first time. "Is there something else Fraser?"

"No, Sir."

"Dismissed."

Fraser did not turn to leave; he still stood there in front of

her desk. There was something else. He had to ask.

"Is there something else, Constable?" Thatcher asked again, a

little more annoyed than before. All she wanted to do was be

alone with her fears and troubles.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Granted." She paused. "What is it Fraser?"

"I just wanted to..." He trailed off as he looked down at the

floor then back up to see her saddened face. "To let you know

that if you need to talk..."

"I am fine Fraser," she repeated once again, more for herself

than for Fraser.

"I am concerned about y..."

Thatcher's face softened a little at this admission. She knew it

was as hard for him to discuss emotions as it was for her. They

were both schooled in keeping them in check at all times; to let

them down was quite a task.

"Thank you Fraser," Thatcher said as she rose and walked over to

stand next to him.

He smiled softly and looked down again at the floor.

When he looked back up she continued. "I am going to stay here

for a few more minutes then leave for the night."

"All right Sir, I am going to be here for a bit longer as well."

"Okay, Fraser."

They then both returned to their duties.

It was happening again; she was running, running so fast, she had

to find them. Their cries for help could not go unheard anymore.

Getting up from where she was, Thatcher began to run. Although

asleep she opened her office door and headed for the front door.

Fraser heard her run past his office and got up to only find

Thatcher trying desperately to open the front door. He had to

find out what was going on. Too often these days he would find

her with circles under her eyes, tired and edgy. The problem was

Thatcher wouldn't talk to him. He was determined to change that.

Fraser ran up to her at the door. He tried to keep the door from

opening. "Sir, please."

"I am coming. Please help me find you..." Thatcher trailed off

reaching for the doorknob once more.

Fraser then realized that she was sleepwalking; it was time to

wake her.

"Inspector, wake up, whom do you have to find? Fraser said as she

pushed him out of the way and opened the door.

Before he could react Thatcher was out the door and running down

the stairs.

"I have to find you. Please tell me where you are." Thatcher

called out to no one in particular as she stopped in the middle

of the sidewalk. "Help me!"

Fraser was right behind her. He reached out to stop her, to wake

her, but suddenly she turned to the left and made her way to a

small park not to far from the consulate.

Fraser was puzzled. He had no idea why this was happening to her,

but he had to find out. When he saw where they were headed, it

made little sense.

Suddenly he noticed that Thatcher had stopped in front of a

statue. She was just standing there when out of nowhere she

started to lunge for it. Fraser grabbed her by the arm and

restrained her.

"Sir, please what are you doing?" Fraser questioned as he turned

her to face him.

"I have to save them. Please let me go." She cried as she tried

to get out of his grip.

Thatcher squirmed to get out of Fraser's tight grip on her upper

arms. She tried to look back at the statue as Fraser asked her a

question.

"Inspector, please! What is going on? Who do you have to save?"

Fraser said loudly, trying to get her attention. "Please! I can

help you."

"The children, I have to save them. Please..." She trailed off as

she sagged against Fraser.

"The children, Sir?" Fraser said as he looked up at the statue

for a moment. Upon realization of what the statue resembled he

looked back down at Thatcher.

It was a statue dedicated to five children who were killed in a

car accident ten years earlier by a drunk driver. The remaining

parents and family wanted to send a message and thought that a

statue in their favorite park was the best way to remember them.

Thatcher somehow got out of Fraser's grip and was now kneeling by

the statue on the ground. "I am here. Please tell me where you

are." She said softly as he overlooked his superior officer.

After a few minutes of silence she stood up and started to run

toward the north end of the park. Fraser took off after her.

When he finally caught up with her she was on the ground, once

again digging furiously. "Help me," she said as she looked up at

Fraser.

He wasn't sure before if she was awake when he found her by the

statue, but now he was sure. He started to dig with her as they

soon revealed the bones of another small child.

"Oh god. I am too late...again," she cried into her dirty hands.

"Sir. This child has been here a very long time. There was

nothing you could have done." Fraser tried to reassure her.

"Yeah," she whispered and stood up to go back to the consulate.

When they arrived back at the consulate Fraser called Detective

Kowalski and had a team out to search the rest of the park. He

had taken Thatcher back to the kitchen to wash her hands and get

some tea for the both of them.

"Ok, Frase, we will take care of this, but tomorrow we are going

to need a statement from the Inspector."

"Yes, of course. Thank you for waiting. As you can see the

Inspector needs to get some rest."

"Yeah, look Frase, try and see what you can get out of her. Make

some sense of it."

"Of course, Stan," he said. "We will see you in the morning."

"Yeah, Night Frase." He paused. "Goodnight Inspector."

She just waved at him as she took a sip of her tea.

After the commotion had died down and everyone had left, Fraser

sat down next to Thatcher on her sofa in her office. He took a

quick look around before he asked the question that was lurking

in his head since this all started.

"Sir, I need to ask, is there a reason..." He paused for a moment

and took a look at her. "Well what I mean is...usually with cases

like this when people are seeing visions of children, they have

had some trauma in their past." He stopped for a moment, "Such as

a loss of a brother or sister, or the loss of son or...daughter."

By this time Thatcher had reverted into her own world. Her eyes

glassed over and she started to shiver. Fraser immediately

noticed and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"I think you should get some sleep," Fraser said as he stood up

to leave. "I will be right in my office if you..."

He didn't get a chance to continue because she cut him off and

reached for his hand. "Please stay..."

"Sir, I am not to sure that is a good idea..."

"Please, I need to... I don't know talk is what I have to do."

Thatcher paused. "When I was younger, well I was that young,"

Fraser just let her talk. This was something she needed to do

and he would let her free herself of this burden. So he rested a

hand on top of hers and gave her a gentle smile.

"I got pregnant." Thatcher's eyes started to tear up and she

reached for a tissue. " She passed on at six months old, crib

death."

"I am sorry Sir, is there anything I can do?"

"No Fraser, but I am glad that you are here for me." She reached

up and laid a small hand on his cheek. "That means a lot to me. I

have never told anyone that before."

"Why don't you try and get some rest, Sir. It has been a long

day."

"Can I ask you something, Fraser?"

"Yes, Sir."

Thatcher shook her head in annoyance. "Why do you always call me

Sir? I mean, here we are off duty; I am discussing my inner most

secrets that I have never told anyone and you sit there and call

me Sir. Why?"

"Well you are an Inspector, my superior officer..." He paused,

"What you like me to call you?" He questioned.

Thatcher sighed and looked away, he was making this hard for

her...again. When she looked back up at Fraser she gave him a

confused smile and continued. "How about Margaret or Meg for a

change?"

He just stood there not knowing what to say. He wanted this, but

now? She was so vulnerable; did she know what was going on? He

ran that question over and over in his mind, he had to make sure

that she was fully aware before anything could or would happen

between them.

"All right Meg. Look I still think you need to rest, it has been

a hard day. There is nothing we can do at this moment."

"I know. Thank you Constable for..." She trailed off gathering

her courage. "Being here for me and trying to help." She turned

to face him. "You can leave for the night."

Looking up at him must have been the worst thing she did.

Thatcher saw the hurt in his features. She looked down and turned

her back again.

"Sir, with all due respect, I think that I should stay..." Fraser

paused for a moment and decided to swallow his hurt and

continued, "with you tonight."

Thatcher turned back around sharply. She was afraid that with her

words he would leave and would not come back. She was wrong.

"Constable, if you think it is necessary, I will be retiring in

my office again tonight."

"Understood," and he was gone, as was the moment that they had.

He let out a sigh; this isn't the way he wanted this to go. He

knew that these dreams would continue till either whatever

mystery was solved or Thatcher herself gave up the fight.

Around ten o'clock Fraser made a telephone call to Stan. He was

more concerned about his boss than ever. This was becoming more

personal now than ever.

"Yeah," came a groggy voice on the other end of the phone.

"Stan, it's Fra..." he got cut off.

"Yeah Frase, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I know it is late, but I need your help with something."

"What is it, Fraser?"

"Well, I need the names of the children that were killed ten

years ago by a drunk driver, the statue is over in Milligan's

Park, by the Consulate."

"All right Fraser, I'll get to it in the morning."

"I would really appreciate anything you can find out tonight. I

think it might help the Inspector."

"Did you find anything else out from her?"

"Yes a few things, Stan, but this is the main thing, about the

statue."

"Did you find anything out about the bodies found today?"

"Umm, Frase, that is out of the 15. I didn't get the file before

I left."

"Did you request it?"

"That is s stupid question Fraser, of course I did."

"Understood."

"Look, I'll get up, go to the station, look up that statue and

the children, and get a hold of the file from the 15."

"Will you call me if anything shows up? I want to stay here with

the Inspector...just in case."

"Oh Frase, you two finally..."

Fraser blushed at the comment, but never said anything.

"Ok Frase, I'll get right on it." Stan replied and smiled as he

hung up his phone.

Fraser returned the phone to its cradle and sat down on his cot.

This was going to be a long night. He didn't want to leave the

Inspector here in the Consulate alone, but he wanted to be out

trying to solve the case. 'I guess my best bet is to leave that

up to Stan for the moment,' he said to himself and lay down, only

to stare up at the ceiling.

A while later, Fraser woke up suddenly; he heard screaming. He

jumped up and ran toward the Inspector's office.

"Sir?" he said as he tried to wake her.

"Fraser, help me," she cried out as she clutched to him.

After a few moments her cries had stopped and they were just

sitting on her sofa holding each other.

"I am here...Meg," he told her has he run a hand over her cheek.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

She smiled up at him and leaned into his touch. It was as if she

could not get enough of him.

"I saw her, you know?" Meg began to say.

"Saw who?"

"My daughter, she was older, but I saw her. She...she spoke to

me." She smiled and her eyes filled with tears again.

"It's ok, let it out. What did she say?"

"Hi, Mommy." Meg smiled, "That's what she said."

Fraser smiled. He knew that this was hard for her and he

understood her feelings well. He continued to give her strength

through his touch.

"I asked her why me." She looked up at Fraser, "That's the one

thing I wanted to know."

"What did she say?" He asked quietly

"She said that I was chosen because I could help, and...and

because she chose me."

"It was the one time she needed you, Meg. It is perfectly

understandable."

"She said that once I find the last of the children that I will

know what happened to them and that they will at last find rest."

"Then we find the children. Together." Fraser said as he laced

his fingers through her hair.

"Together?"

"Well, you, me and Stan."

"Is that who you called before?" she questioned. Fraser looked

away for a moment. "Don't back away on me Fraser."

"Yes, I called him. He is looking into a few things." Fraser

turned back to face her. "And no I didn't tell him about your

daughter, I thought that was left unsaid."

"Thank you Fraser." She smiled and reached up to give him a kiss.

Fraser did not know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but

he also knew that now was not that time. She was vulnerable, as

was he. But for some reason he couldn't pull himself away from

her at that moment. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her

more toward him in a kiss.

"You need your rest," Fraser said as he broke the kiss, laid her

back down on her sofa and covered her back up with a blanket.

Meg smiled at him and closed her eyes, but suddenly opened them

quickly, "You are going to stay here with me, right?"

"Always," he replied and gave her another soft kiss before

getting up to sit on the floor next to her.

It was a while later when Fraser heard a phone ringing; he raced

up to answer it before Thatcher woke up.

"Hello?" Came a whispered voice.

"Hey Frase, I got some information for you."

"Stan, hold on, I have to switch phones. I am going to put you on

hold."

"All right Frase."

Two minutes later Fraser picked up the line in his office. "Okay

Stan, what did you learn?"

"What's going on Fraser? Why are you whispering?"

"I was in the Inspector's office. I did not want to wake her."

"Oh, sure Frase, whatever. Anyway you want this info or not?"

"Yes Stan. What did you learn?"

"Well I have the names of the four children that were killed in

that accident ten years ago. All their remains were buried in

surrounding area cemeteries."

"Okay, anything on the report for the 15th?" Fraser asked, hoping

that there might be something.

"Yeah, it was on my desk when I got back here."

"Good, I am sure the Inspector will want to know what is

enclosed, how about we meet you at the station at 7am?"

"Frase, look, I will bring over coffee and something to eat." He

paused, "And we can go over the report when I get there, ok?"

"Thank you Stan."

Fraser set the phone down and leaned back in his chair for a

moment before going back to check on Thatcher. He feared her

dreams might try to take her again. He sat on the very edge of

the sofa as she slept. After a moment, her hand moved gently

onto his leg. It surprised him, but she needed the contact and

so did he. It was a welcome feeling. He leaned his back against

the arm of the couch and she settled in beside him. He thought

he would stay for a few minutes to make sure she was completely

asleep, then he would move to the floor and stay beside her so

she couldn't leave without him knowing.

It was late, though and he was tired. It was only moments before

he fell asleep, surprisingly comfortable with her arm over him.

Stan opened the door to the consulate, file and donuts balanced

in one hand and coffee in a holder in the other. He looked down

the hall and saw the door to Inspector Thatcher's office was open

just slightly. He walked down and pushed the door open. He

struggled not to lose the coffee when his jaw dropped at the

sight. Thatcher's head was on Fraser's chest, an arm over him

and his arm was around her, hand on her back. Both were sleeping

soundly.

Stan set the coffee and donuts on her desk, and then cleared his

throat.

Fraser woke with a start and looked down, immediately realizing

how it looked. "We fell asleep...she...she... I didn't want to

leave her alone in case..."

"Yeah sure Frase," Stan started to say as he looked over and saw

that Thatcher was waking up.

Fraser turned around and looked over at her, a small smile

crossed his face and Stan continued to talk to him, "Look I have

some information for you two," he finished off and handed Fraser

a file.

As Thatcher came to stand next to Fraser he looked over at her,

she looked better now that she had a full night's rest. He put

down the file and handed her a coffee.

"I wanted to say thank you for helping us Detective Kowalski,"

Thatcher said as she smiled up at him.

He cleared his throat and continued to speak, "I found the list

of names of the children who were killed...it is in the folder,

but I don't see how it can help with what is going on."

"Of course Detective, go on." Thatcher replied and motioned for

him to continue.

He opened the file on Thatcher's desk and showed them the crime

scene photos and notes from the officers and Crime Lab.

"It must have taken a lot to get all this information..." She

trailed off and looked up at Stan.

"Yeah, but it's ok." Stan replied and pointed to an official

report from the crime lab. "Look here the children all range from

the ages of five to eight. They all were murdered about..." He

thumbed through the papers, "fifteen years ago."

"Murdered?" Fraser asked him.

"Yeah, sad thing it was, all the children were taken from their

homes at night. Here are the dates, they all were within three

weeks of each other. Then it seems like they were kept alive for

some time before they were killed."

"Oh god, how on earth were they taken from their homes at night?

Where were their parents? Were they questioned?" Thatcher went on

and on.

"I am sure the parents were questioned..." Fraser said as he

looked over at her for a moment, this was definitely taking its

toll on her.

"How could any parent let this happen to their own child?

Wouldn't a parent protect their child with their life?" Thatcher

said near tears as she reached for Fraser's arm to hold on.

"Are you okay, Inspector?" Fraser said as he looked down at her.

"Do you need to sit down?"

"Yes, that would be a good idea," she said as Stan moved aside

and let her sit down in her desk chair.

"Is she okay? I think this case is getting a bit too personal for

her..." Stan was interrupted before he could finish.

"This case, started with me and will end with me, Detective. As

for it getting too personal? It began personal." Thatcher spat

out; her eyes were already brimming with unshed tears.

"Am I missing something here?"

There was a silence for a few moments before Thatcher looked up

at Fraser silently asking if she should fill him in about her

past or leave it unsaid.

After a sigh she answered him. "I am sorry, Detective, for the

outburst. It was uncalled for. The reason why this is very

personal for me is because a long time ago I had a child...who

passed. I would have done anything to save her, but I couldn't."

"I am sorry Inspector, I didn't mean to dig into your personal

life like that..."

Fraser stood next to her, this was hard on him, but he knew it

was much harder on her. He rested a comforting hand on her

shoulder for support and to let her know that he was there for

her. Thatcher looked up and smiled at him.

"Were there any more suspects?" Fraser then asked.

"They picked up a few people who were reported around the

neighborhood. Real scum bags, if you ask me, but they were all

dead ends. From what they have on this case the guy was never

found."

Fraser got to thinking, as did Thatcher on this... 'Why wasn't

the guy caught? How did he know the children, did he work with

them, did he know them from some sort of play area?'

Fraser began to say something, "Is there a list of all school..."

But was cut off my Thatcher.

"Is there a list of all school employees?" She looked up at

Fraser. "Sorry."

"Including all janitorial persons there as well and people who

only worked there a short amount of time?" Fraser continued.

"This is scary," He said as he looked at the two, "Oh yeah right

here." He finished leafing through the file for the right paper

he was looking for, "Here you go." He handed it to them.

Fraser put the paper down in front of Thatcher so they all could

see it. "There are five people who were hired then left after six

months." Stan said.

"Do we have the reports on these people?" Thatcher asked as Stan

went back to the file and retrieved the papers.

"Yeah right here, Let's see."

"Paul Cook, James Linville, Gregory Allman, Todd Wynne and

Wilford Stokes," Thatcher said. "None of them ring a bell."

"Ok let's see here, James Linville, was let go due to poor work

performance. Todd Wynne, quit because of fights between him and

another employee. Wilford Stokes, was due to lack of green papers

and Paul Cook, well this one seems to be quite interesting." Stan

said as he pulled the file out and set it on top.

"It says here, there were complaints about him made by the

parents of a few students, some of which were murdered." Thatcher

pointed out.

"Okay where is this person now?" Fraser said as he bent down to

read the file more closely.

Thatcher looked over at him at that moment... 'If we were only

alone...' she let the thought trail out of her mind for now and

gave him a smile instead.

"He lives in Chicago on Madison St." Stan said as he looked at

Fraser then over to Thatcher. "On the South End."

"Was he ever questioned?" Thatcher asked quietly.

"It doesn't seem like it Sir." Fraser replied sadly.

She looked at the two men for a moment, then a soft "why" came

out.

Stan just looked at her sadly. He didn't know why he hadn't been

questioned, but he was going to find out. So he started to

shuffle through the file even more; there had to be an answer.

"It says here that the police could not find him, that he had

reportedly moved out of Chicago, but I have this feeling he

hasn't." Stan said as he stood straight up and looked around.

"What is it Detective?" Thatcher asked.

"Do you have a phone book?"

"What is it Stan?" Fraser asked as he handed him the phone book.

"I said I didn't think he moved out of Chicago. Go with me Frase,

it's a hunch, ok?"

As Stan flipped through the phone book, Thatcher was looking

through the files and at the crime scene photos. She was getting

madder by minute. She was going to get this guy and help put

those children to rest. They deserved it.

"Look here, I am going to call this in and then get over there,

are you two ready?"

"Yes!" Both Fraser and Thatcher said at the same time as Stan

called into the precinct.

"Hey Frannie...yes... listen put me through to Welsh will

you?...yes Frannie..." Stan said as he was put on hold.

A minute later he was talking again. "Yes Sir, we have a

lead...yes... 215 Madison St... We are heading there now...yes,

Sir, Fraser and Inspector Thatcher are going with me... " Then he

hung up.

Fraser and Thatcher watched him and waited. "Okay let's go." Stan

said as he walked towards the door.

"Ok, Detective, give me two minutes and...we will meet you out

front," she said to him, not wavering.

Stan looked at her then over to Fraser who stood there with an

expressionless face. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to

leave. "The sooner the better Inspector." And he was gone.

After Stan was gone, Thatcher looked up at Fraser, she wanted to

say something to him, but was unsure what.

"Fraser, I wanted to...say that...everything...thank you." She

had managed to spill out, subconsciously she had moved closer to

him, resting a hand on his.

'Is this really happening?' ran through both their minds.

Fraser gently moved his hand under hers to interlace his fingers

with hers. She looked down and smiled at the sight.

"You are welcome Inspector..." he replied to her as he moved

closer to breathe in the scent of her. Their noses barely

touching, he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Meg,..." she said before she reached up and pulled him toward

her for a kiss.

Fraser couldn't help letting it happen. His mind was slowly

beginning to swirl. Thatcher felt disconnected as their lips

touched gently.

A few moments later they broke apart, Fraser ran a finger down

the side of her face and lifted her chin up so that he could see

her face.

"Come on, we should get going."

"Yeah..." She said breathlessly. "In a moment." She reached up

and kissed him again, more passionately this time pressing her

lips against his. Her lips felt soft to him.

As he pulled away, he stumbled a little. "I don't want to take

advantage..." he began, but she interrupted him with one last

passionate kiss. They couldn't help leaning into one another.

The two jumped when they heard Stan's voice from the other room.

"Let's roll, guys!"

Sitting outside 215 Madison St, Stan sat in the front with Fraser

while Thatcher sat in the back. They were waiting to see if

anyone was home at the Cook residence.

"I don't think he is home." Stan said, fidgeting as if he drank

to much coffee.

"He's here, look." Thatcher said from the back seat. She pointed

up to the second floor apartment, as the light went on.

She had been sitting there willing for him to be home. She was

angry and wanted to catch him, bring justice to those children

who lay in those unmarked graves all over Chicago.

"Come on let's go." She was practically pushing Fraser out of the

car.

"Whoa Inspector slow down." Stan said as he jumped out after

Thatcher and Fraser.

She was running up the front steps before Fraser and Stan even

made it to the sidewalk. When they finally made it to the front

door Stan had to comment, "Do you think she is in a hurry or

somethin'?"

"This case means a lot to her, Stan." Fraser said defending

Thatcher.

"Yeah I know. Come on, let's go," he said as they rounded the

second flight of stairs to find Thatcher waiting outside the

door.

She was just standing there looking at the door. When the

commotion of Fraser and Stan coming up the stairs distracted her

she turned to find them looking at her.

"What?" Thatcher asked.

"Well I expected to find you inside holding the suspect down and

waiting for us." Stan said sarcastically.

"I am not armed Detective," was her flat reply.

Stan drew his gun and moved toward the door. Fraser moved to be

in front of Thatcher. She looked up at him and gave him a stern

look saying that she was just as competent as he was, but he

didn't back off.

"On the count of three," Stan said as he moved closer to the door

and counted down. Fraser pushed in the door and immediately

pulled back as Stan went through the door gun drawn.

"Freeze! Police!"

A suspect went scrambling to the window. Thatcher caught sight

and ran through the kitchen toward the dining room where the

suspect was fumbling with the window. "He said Freeze! Police!"

She jumped up and pushed against him, trying to get hold of his

other arm. She pinned them both behind his back, "I said freeze."

Thatcher proceeded to get rougher as her anger built up, "How

could you do that to those children? Those innocent children!

They did absolutely nothing to you."

"I didn't do anything lady!" he exclaimed

"Yes you did! They were too young to know anything, and you

destroyed whatever future they had!" Thatcher went on.

Fraser saw what was going on and went running over to Thatcher,

to pull her off of the suspect. "That's enough Inspector, come on

you aren't doing anyone any good..." He paused for a moment as he

put his arms around her and pulled her to him. "Come on let's

go."

Stan took the suspect and called for backup.

Back at the precinct Stan and Fraser had taken the suspect into

the interrogation room while Thatcher had to sit outside the two-

way mirror and listen in. As much as she wanted to be in there,

she would probably hinder any confession.

"Yes I worked at the Parkside Elementary School..." Cook replied

as Stan pushed a little more before Fraser stepped in.

"How did you do it Mr. Cook, how did you take the children?"

Fraser asked as his voice began to rise in annoyance that the

suspect was giving him a hard time.

"I didn't do anything," Cook repeated, with a smug, innocent look

on his face.

"Yes you did. We have the proof right here." Stan yelled and

pointed down to the file on the table. "It is all right in here."

After more arguments, back and forth between Fraser, Stan and Mr.

Cook, a confession was told. It had been about two hours when

he finally confessed and Thatcher rested against the mirror and

let her tears run. It was over.

"All right, all right." He paused for a moment and looked up at

Fraser. "Your friend here is taking this a bit personal, don't

you think Detective?" The question was directed at Stan.

Neither one answered. Thatcher stood awaiting the truth about

the case, rather impatiently pacing.

"Okay, you want to know? I stalked them, followed them home, that

was the best part actually..." He paused for moment and looked up

at the mirror smiling, "I knew where they lived, I watched their

nightly routines, and planned a way in and out of the house."

Stan and Fraser stood there glaring at him. This was horrible.

Fraser turned around and walked over to the two-way mirror and

just looked at it, as if he were truly seeing right through it.

"Then usually the next night I would go in and take the children.

They came rather quietly, since they knew me, actually." He

laughed, "You know parents really need to teach their children

not to talk to strangers more."

Thatcher looked at the man, the criminal who stole those

children's futures, took them away from their loving parents. She

heard enough and reached up to shut the intercom off.

"Yeah but that doesn't give us a why, Mr. Cook." Stan said as he

looked over at Fraser.

"Do you really need to know Stan?" Fraser asked him concerned.

"Yes Fraser, I do and as a cop so should you." Stan said coldly

and turned back to Mr. Cook, "So what's it gonna be?"

"Do you really want to know Detective?"

"Yes I do." He practically hissed through his teeth.

"Does the power to take a life, to be able to feel you are the

one that holds the power to give or take, that's what it's all

about Detective."

"That doesn't make any sense." Stan said back to him.

"Come on Stan, let's go. It's over." Fraser said motioning for

him to follow.

That was it. Neither Fraser nor Stan could take being in his

presence anymore. Stan shut off the tape recorder and turned to

leave with Fraser on his tail. "Someone will be right back to

take you to holding." Stan rather coldly and stormed out of the

room.

As they stepped outside Frannie stopped them and handed them

Cook's background.

"A little late Frannie, don't you think?" Stan said to her, still

angry from the last conservation with Cook.

"At least you got it at all." She threw back at him and walked

away.

Stan opened the file and started to skim over some of the

information.

"It says here that he was abused as a young child, by his

father." He paused, "Then it progresses from there. There are a

lot of complaints from neighbors, women, about him."

"Well, that is a standard background on this type of person Stan.

You had to be expecting something like that."

"Yeah, well it's always harder when you actually know the truth."

She didn't know how long she had been sitting in the little room

by herself; the suspect had long been taken to the cell for

further processing.

Fraser had come in with a cup of coffee offering to take her back

to the Consulate. Thatcher took the coffee from him but still did

not look up at him.

"Hey," he said as he pushed her chin up to see him. "It's over,

he confessed."

"I know. It is just hard to believe. Even though as a police

officer we are trained to deal with the worst kind of people out

there. It's hard, Fraser."

He didn't know what to say so he just let her finish out her

thoughts.

"How could someone do this? Children Fraser; innocent children?"

She continued to vent out. Fraser reached out and took hold of

her, pulling Meg toward himself. She was resting with her back to

him and his arms wrapped around her waist.

As she cried out, she bent her head down and covered her eyes

with her hands. "Why these children? Why my daughter? Why?"

"I read his history; he was abused as a young child and it

developed from there. Complaints from neighbors and women. He

seems to..." Fraser trailed off. He didn't need to continue.

"It just doesn't seem like an excuse. I mean, did he say why

those children? Why them?" Thatcher said her voice starting to

crack.

"I don't know. I wish I could tell you." He said as he leaned

down and planted a small kiss at the base of her neck.

At that moment Stan came walking through the door and the two

broke apart. Thatcher turned her back toward him but didn't say

anything.

"Ah, Welsh wanted to talk to you Fraser." He said as he looked

over the two.

"Thank you Stan, I will be right there."

Stan turned and left, cursing his bad timing.

"Go on Constable," Thatcher said as she wiped the remaining tears

from her eyes and turned around. "I will be fine."

"Sir," Fraser started to say when he got a stern look from her.

"Stay here, I will not be long, then I will take you back to the

consulate."

She just nodded her acceptance and began to turn away before he

caught her arm again. "I know you aren't fine...neither am I."

Fraser whispered to her and again ran a hand down the side of her

face. Meg shivered at the touch and leaned into it not saying

anything.

With that Fraser left her standing there with her own thoughts.

She let out a sigh and went to get something to drink.

Inside Welsh's office the conservation had already begun when he

entered the room. Welsh and Stan looked over at him when he

closed the door.

"Everything all right with your Inspector, Constable?" Welsh

asked him.

"Yes everything is fine." He paused "What did you need, Sir?"

Fraser finished.

"I just wanted to make sure that everything on your end with

Canada and everything is tied up?" Welsh asked as an unexpected

visitor arrived. The three men turned around to see Inspector

Thatcher standing there in the doorway.

"Yes, Sir, everything on Canada's side is cleared up and put to

rest." Thatcher said as she came to stand in between Stan and

Fraser. "Is there anything else we can do for you today?"

"No Inspector. There isn't. Thank you for your help on this

case." Welsh replied.

"You are welcome, Come on Constable." She said and turned for the

door.

The ride back to the Consulate was long and silent. Neither one

of them knowing where to start. Whether to apologize or start

with small talk, or maybe just ignore the entire thing.

Nervously Fraser got out and held open the passenger side door

for her. Thatcher stepped out and looked up at him for a moment

then smiled.

Thatcher felt peaceful, but at the same time, very lonely. She

looked at Fraser for a moment as he began to walk toward his

office. "Benton?" She said softly, then cleared her throat.

"Ben," she said louder, causing Fraser to turn.

"Could you step into my office a moment?"

Fraser nodded and began walking toward her slowly. He feared

what might happen if he was alone with her right now. He had

such strong feelings for her, but he wanted some time in his

office alone to sort them out and make sense of them.

She closed the door to her office behind them and Fraser's heart

skipped a beat. He shifted. "Ma'am, I..."

"Benton, I've told you to call me Meg." She paused and took a

step toward him. "I truly appreciate the fact that you didn't

want to take advantage of me when I was in a vulnerable

position."

"Of course... Meg."

"I am not in that position now. Instead I feel a release. I

feel free from the pain of those children, as well as a little

relieved from the pain I've carried with me all these years."

Fraser took a deep breath. "Ma'am... Meg, I did what had to be

done. I didn't want to see you hurting..." he let the sentence

trail off.

"I know, Ben. It's because you care. I also care." She stopped

and smiled. After a moment, she grasped his arm gently. "Thank

you, Fraser. I can never thank you enough." She took a deep

breath, closed her eyes, and pulled him to her with a gentle

kiss.

Fraser wanted to resist, but he couldn't. He removed his Stetson

and threw it to the floor, then wrapped his arms around her waist

and kissed passionately.

They sunk into each other, embracing, enveloping...

Thatcher slept peacefully that night.  The dream began slowly, fading in
to a bright light.  It was the sun shining brightly on perfectly colored
flowers and perfectly green grass.  The grass tickled the feet of the
perfectly beautiful children.  One stepped forward and though Thatcher's
child never lived to that age, she recognized her in a very surreal sense.
Thatcher felt peaceful as the girl smiled brightly and mouthed "Thank you."
Thatcher watched the children turn away from her, grasp each other's hands,
and walk into the sunlight until it became so bright she could no longer see
them