It was a cold and rainy night in Chicago   Normal S05360 3 26
2000-02-23T16:55:00Z 2000-02-23T17:00:00Z 17 7774 44315 MERCYCARE
CORPORATION 369 88 54421 9.2720 	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