The Eyes Don't Have It

"Fraser, we're going to be late for lunch with Mr. Larsen." Meg fussed as her subordinate officer slowly cruised the street behind Nyala, a well established restaurant in a booming area of Chicago.

"Yes, Sir." Fraser answered dutifully.

"Don't 'Yes, Sir', me, Fraser, just let me out and find a parking space." The Inspector growled.

"Ah, here's a space, Sir." Fraser pointed to a delivery van leaving the curb. Slowly, the Mountie parked the dark Lincoln in it's place. Meg rolled her eyes, thinking how they would have been early if it were a dog sled team instead.

Chicagoans, lost in their own thoughts and errands, moved past the consulate car as Fraser opened the rear passenger door for Meg. She slid out gracefully and stood within inches of the red clad officer. Their gazes locked for a moment as Meg tucked a stray strand of soft, dark hair behind her ear. Her smoldering gaze raked over Ben like a rampant wildfire. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding after she turned to walk into the restaurant. Ben shook his head to regain his composure. Dressed in a hunter green, velvet ensemble that complimented every curve, the lady Mountie had been distracting the Constable all morning. He preferred her in red, but damn if she wasn't fetching in that lush, earth tone suit.

Meg was frowning at him when Ben caught up to him.

"The door, Constable." She said impatiently. Fraser ushered her through the restaurant door, not daring to meet her eyes.

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Gunnar Larsen was seated at a table, sipping iced tea when Thatcher arrived. In his early fifties, the Icelandic trade official rose when he saw the comely, lady Mountie approach. His pale blue eyes smiled easily when he saw Meg.

"Mr. Larsen, hello, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long." Meg apologized, shifting her gaze toward Fraser. Larsen's expression didn't shift, but he saw Fraser's face change. He saw a hint of hurt in the Mountie's eyes.

After Lunch ….

Fraser saw through lunch quietly as Meg and Larsen made small talk, then talked business. The Mountie took notes for the Inspector. He was glad when Larsen's cell phone rang.

"Ah, Inspector Thatcher, I have to go, it's my daughter." Mr. Larsen shrugged. He called for the waitress and picked up the check.

"I'll speak with you tomorrow then, Mr. Larsen." Meg shook his hand politely.

"Good day, Inspector, Constable." Larsen nodded as he took off for the coat check room at the entrance of the restaurant. Meg took off behind him, Fraser bringing up the rear.

Outside, Fraser had just opened Meg's door when a young man ran into the one way street from the rear of the restaurant. A waitress rushed out after him.

"STOP! THIEF!" The waitress shouted. The young man didn't look back, he just pointed his gun over his shoulder and pulled the trigger. Fraser left Meg standing by the car to run after the thief. The Inspector slammed the door and took off after Fraser. She kept up pretty good to be wearing two inch heels and a skirt.

Meg caught up to Fraser just after he caught the thief. The Mountie took him down with a flying tackle, sending his handgun skidding across the pavement. Meg kicked the handgun away while Fraser scuffled with the thief. The young man kicked Fraser hard in the ribs. He scrambled to his feet but Fraser took hold of him a moment later. The thief turned to face the Mountie, throwing a right punch. Meg saw Fraser duck the punch. Spinning around the thief saw the Inspector. He elbowed her across the face, laying her out cold. Fraser then cold cocked the thief from behind with a bottle. He used his lanyard to tie the thief's hands before turning to where Meg lay. She groaned as Fraser lifted her to a sitting position. Holding her head, Meg tried to clear her cloudy vision but couldn't.

"Are you alright, Inspector?" Ben studied her eyes as she looked up at him.

"My head hurts, I think I have a concussion." She answered, holding her splitting head.

"What's going on?" A Chicago PD foot patrolman asked, his Adam's apple bobbing. He'd been sent to respond to the alarm in the restaurant.

"Would you kindly radio for assistance and an ambulance?" Fraser responded, still knelt down beside Meg.

"Yeah, sure." The young officer nodded, pulling his radio from his belt.

"I've never felt like this before, Fraser, my eyes won't clear up." Meg laid her palm over her eyes, head pounding.

"We'll be to the emergency room in a few minutes." He hoped his suspicions weren't true.

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