Disclaimer: Due South and all its characters belong to Alliance. This story is for the pure enjoyment of the fans, and no infringement on rights is intended.

A/N: This is the first Due South story I wrote, maybe a year or so ago. It is also quite a long one. Comments and constructive criticism is very much welcomed. If you enjoy the story, please to let me know - I live for feedback. So, without further ado, on to the teaser...

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Running for Safety

Standing, watching the snow fall, feeling the cold, crisp air fill his lungs with every breath, Benton Fraser took in the scene before him. The frozen tundra was where he belonged. It was where he was born, where he spent his childhood before leaving for the academy, to follow in his father's footsteps. It was what he had always considered home. Until now. Now all he felt was an emptiness that filled every void within him, until he feared it would consume him whole. It was an emptiness borne of her death, of leaving the best friends he had ever known, and of returning to a country where the solitude he had always before viewed as peaceful, now seemed to mock the emptiness he felt within.

He sighed, shouldering his pack and turning finally towards his cabin. Walking the last few paces he thought about his return. He had always imagined a happier time, a time when he would be returning to his home, having fulfilled his duty with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. But instead he had left Chicago because he could not stand to face the heavy atmosphere that greeted him every time he walked through the doors of the consulate. Ottawa had wanted him to stay, to ensure "the continued operation of the Consulate for the citizens of Canada". He had stayed. For as long as he could take it. Then he had had taken leave. It had been quick, once he had decided. A phone call to Ray, a single bag packed and the next commercial flight out of O'Hare, leaving only a completed absence form for Constable Turnbull and the remaining Consulate staff. He knew there would be repercussions for his actions, but he just couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

As he opened the door to the cabin, he felt as though someone had hit him with a sledge hammer. All of the air rushed from his lungs, he couldn't breathe, he felt as though his heart had stopped beating. The sight that greeted him was the last thing he was expecting. Sitting on the couch, a satellite phone pressed to her ear, was the reason for his leaving Chicago. She had raised her head when the door had opened, a look of shock on her normally calm face. She seemed suddenly to remember the person on the other end of the phone, and turned away from him.

"Yes, I understand… yes, actually he's here now… yes sir, I'll deal with it… Understood… I'll be in contact. Goodbye, sir."

She hung up the telephone, and turned to face him.

"Hello Fraser."

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"I'm sorry, son, but there's no way anyone inside could have survived the explosion."

When the call had first come through, he hadn't believed them. He thought it must have been some kind of sick joke. She couldn't be dead, she just couldn't. Not like that. He was meant to be driving her to the function, but there had been an emergency at the Consulate, forcing him to remain behind. She had offered to stay too, but he had refused her help, telling her that there was no need for both of them to remain and risk offending the French ambassador and consequently the French Government if the Canadian Consulate was not represented.

If only he had not been so insistent. If he had accepted her offer of help, she would never have needed a lift home, never have been in the car when it exploded. Her death was deemed a tragic accident. A bomb meant for someone else, and she had been caught in the crossfire.

He still hadn't believed it. Not the phone call. Not when he saw the remnants of the burned out vehicle. Not even when he had spoken to the witnesses, heard them explain how the offer of a lift had been given and accepted. Not until the funeral did the truth final hit him. She was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

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