Fli...Fli...ck....Flicker!

Ray watched the last of the perps being dragged away. Shaking his head in disbelief, he tried not to think of all potential lives lost. It had come so close today. A simple bank robbery had escalated into an almost massacre. Two were dead from the beginning as they had been the guards. The three thieves had a shit pot load of dynamite and were not afraid to use it.

No one had known about the robbery. Anyone walking in was beaten and dragged into the vault. One person thought he would play the lone hero and unmasked one of the thieves. He became the third body on the floor. Having realized they were exposed, they rigged the vault to explode with all the potential witnesses inside.

He had been trying to ward off the advances of a supposed psychic. She was thanking him for returning her stolen purse of valuables that a mugger had taken. Her kind of thanks was to offer herself for a night of passionate love making. They only stopped when she touched his cheek then jerked back.

She had seemed a little sad when she pulled back nodding. He offered his condolences for the theft in the first place. She told him not to worry about it, that it was enough to have them returned. Then she had told him something that stopped him cold. Her words were to enjoy what time he had left and to make peace with his own. After that, she would say no more, only stare at him in sorrow.

Figuring she was touched in the head, he walked away. He had parked the GTO a few blocks away in order to spare it from the eggs cop cars usually got in this area. He didn't know how, but they could always tell when a car belonged to the police. Last time he was here, it had happened, repeatedly. Thus he walked in the right place at the right time.

The only reason he had caught the bank robbers was the parking meters. There were too many of them having run out for it to be a coincidence. Being a normal person, he would never have noticed. Having spent the past two years with a freak Mountie, he no longer qualified. So he had noticed, and had decided to do something about it, Dirty Hairy style.

Upon entering the bank, he was met by one of the guys with a gun. He hadn't hesitated, simply point, click, and shoot. Guy was dead before his guts hit the floor. At point blank range, the new .44 had blown the man nearly in half. He had looked starving, but was wearing top brand clothes. Had being the operative word, now he was just a grease stain on the walls and floor of the bank.

After that, Ray had walked back towards the vault, the second guy came out guns blazing. A bullet removed most of his head starting with the area between the eyes. The third guy had had the hell beaten out of him by the female bank tellers, that was the only reason he was in lock up and not dead like the other two.

Since he had come back from Canada, Fraser choosing to remain behind, crime had increased. None of the crazy stuff Fraser seemed to always find like dead bodies sawed in half for diamonds, or weapons of mass destruction on their way to some old lady in rural Indiana. He missed those days.

At times like these he wondered if he really was alive, it felt like he was just going through the motions, a machine repeating the same mundane task it was created for. Perhaps that is all there was in this world. At that he snapped his pencil in two, stood up from the desk, grabbed his jacket and left. The paper work would always be there tomorrow, if IA got on his ass, so be it, wasn't like it would be the first time.

He took a long way home to his apartment, the one that went by the Consulate. Turnbull was standing out front in the usual position; ears nose, and cheeks red with the cold. In a strange bit of compassion, he parked the car, walked up to the man, and wrapped his scarf around him. Smiling to himself, Ray went back to his car and drove away.

His smile faded when he took in the Ice Queen taking the scarf and shouting at Turnbull through his rear view mirror. Inside an impotent rage burned out as he accepted there was nothing he could do. Flooring it, he slid down the cold streets to his empty apartment.

The door to his building was open, vandals having broken in again. Inside spray paint was all over the mail boxes forming the local gang's name. Mentally he made a note to find out who they were and have them dragged in by the local beat stompers. A quick check of his mail box revealed all the envelopes were streaked red as paint had been sprayed in the slots between the door and wall bank. With a sigh of disgust, he walked up the stairs and to his apartment.

Things were simply going to hell.

Inside his apartment, the answering machine light blinked. His shoulders slumped, he walked over and turned it on. Not caring to be in the same room lest he destroy it, he walked back to the bathroom and cleaned up.

"First message." A squeal. "Ray, where the fuck did you go? Welsh is jumping all of our asses for not holding you here long enough to finish the paper work. Get your ass back here now, if you know what is good for you. Selfish bastard!" Another squeal.

"Second message. Ray, I know you're there, pick up. Your father... I am worried about you. Call me, I'm your mother, I deserve to at least get the customary 'I'm fine'. I love you, bye."

"Third message. Ray?" Followed by thirty seconds of dead air then the squeal.

After the final squeal, Ray dropped the rag that he had been using to scrub at the blood staining his face. Resting his head against the mirror for a moment, he reined in the feelings. "Fuck'em." He reached over, turned off the light and walked out of the bathroom. A short trek to the kitchen produced a beer. From there he fell back into an easy chair and turned on the TV.

With a sigh, he jammed the remote button into channel up. Nothing was on, as usual. After a while he finally gave into the delirium.

"Ray, why do we do it?"

He turned to his right staring at Fraser. Both he and Benton were leaning back on their hands, laid out in a small clearing in the woods. The sun shone around them whiting out all but the green grass and them. "Do what, Frase?"

The Mountie smiled and reached out a hand to him, caressing his face. "Deny what is inside. You really are a special person, Ray."

"I aint either."

"You are, so much more then you think."

"Then why didn't you stay with me?" When Fraser continued to look at him not answering, Ray turned his head away from the touch. Benton's hand reached out to caress his face again, but he with drew further. "Don't, Frase." The hand gently grabbed his chin and forced him to look the other in the eyes.

"There is other things to consider, Ray."

"You knew I wanted you. I told you that."

Benton gave a sad smile as the light around them intensified. "I have to go, Ray."

"Fine! You never stay, why should now be any different?" The hand on his chin slowly slid over his cheek, the thin fingers cool against his skin. Then it was gone. Ray closed his eyes as Fraser disappeared in the light.

Ray awoke with a start. Something had made the noise that woke him. Looking around, the TV was on mute, the screen playing news. Next he looked down and saw the remote on the floor. Picking it up, he turned off the TV and went to bed.

The following morning, he awoke to the find the alarm had not gone off and he was late, again. He picked the clock off the night stand, he threw it against the wall. Giving it a satisfied snarl, he climbed out of bed and went to use the restroom.

His reflection was reminiscent of a corpse as he decided a shave was in order. For a moment he considered using the blade to end the crap. Then decided if what Fraser had said was correct, he might end up stuck haunting those he had been related too. An eternity of walking in on his parents was enough hell to decide not to.

He quickly dressed, adding a second gun for a special purpose. Satisfied he was fully ready to face the world, he left the apartment. His chipper mood was broken when he pushed open the front door to his building. There was more graphitti on the outside of the building then there had been. The scent of fresh paint still hung all around. Narrowing his eyes in anger, he pulled out his gun, checked the ammo, and took a searching aim. All was clear around the front steps and the main entrance.

The closer he got to the parking lot, the stronger the smell got. When he reached the side walk, he heard the shaking of spray cans and guys laughing. His steps went silent, closer together as he stalked them. Around the corner of the building and behind the bushes, he came upon them. They were getting ready to spray paint his car.

His first shot took the guy closest to his car in the ass, the second took the leader in the ass, and he emptied the rest of the chamber into the others. They were each grabbing their asses screaming as he stalked up to them. Standing over them, he switched from the glock to his .44.

"Rock salt hurts like a son of a bitch, don't it." His lop sided grin was met with deadly glares. "Of course it ruins a gun. That's why I always carry a spare." To prove it, he took aim at the punk coming up behind him. "Just like that, one more step and I scatter your brains across the parkin lot, pal."

Two of them started to get up, but he kicked them in their wounded bottoms. "Stay down, ya little shits. Just wait until ya get to jail, salt rock aint goin to be the only thing burnin yer asses."

"Fuck you ahhhh..." another screamed as he kicked the guy in his ass.

"Didn't yer mother teach you any manners?" He smiled as he heard sirens blaring in the back ground. "Sit tight, the uniforms will be here soon to cart you away."

Soon enough the boys in blue were there and arresting him. Ray cursed and kicked them as they let the punks go. Before the younger man had him completely cuffed, he had belted him three times across the face and kicked the other two officers in the head. They tossed him face down into the back seat, ankles and wrists bound in shackles.

The ride to their station was filled with shocked whispers as they checked over his ID. He couldn't care less, he was going to kill them when they let him out, that much was for certain. After a few short turns they stopped the car and got out. A minute later he was dragged out and placed on a gurney to be wheeled into the station.

There were gasps as he was pushed down the hall. Face down on the gurney, he had to stretch his neck to see where the way they were going. Just as he thought, they came around a corner and he was led into the basement. They opened the door to a cell where he was rolled inside. Once inside, they pushed him off on to the bunk then left.

As he heard the door shut, he started to kick up a fuss. No one spoke as their foot steps retreated down the hall. After ten minutes of it, he finally gave up and tried working on getting his body to bend enough that he might at least get the shackles in a more comfortable position. The more he tried, the tighter the bonds became.

"You know, it would probably be easier if you simply gave in."

Ray stopped fighting it to look toward the familiar voice, he tried to glimpse them, but he couldn't see over his shoulder. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Ah, sarcasm and violent anger, lovely combination." The warm, teasing tone carried over the silence.

"Unless you can help me out of these," he shook the shackles, "shut the fuck up."

"You know, anger will get you no where. Just relax, let it be. You don't have to struggle anymore."

Ray felt his anger begin to drain away being replaced by an emotional fatigue. Slowly the world around him began to calm down. His bonds became lighter, easing their constricting touch. "Who are you?"

"Not yet."

"What do you mean?"

The phantom chuckled. "It's not time. You are not ready."

Ray's ire began to rise again. "What the hell?"

"No, just the opposite in fact." Another warm chuckle drifted through the darkness. "Rest Ray, you will gain knowledge soon enough, don't rush towards the inevitable."

"What inevitable? What the hell are you talking about?" Ray was about to ask more when the world around him got darker.

"Just rest, Ray."

Ray heard the sounds of birds chirping. He breathed deeply, the smell of cedar filled his nose. Sighing contentedly, he stretched. His out reaching hands brushed across the face of someone else. A hand swatted his from the face with a grunt of displeasure. That made his eyes pop open.

Looking over to his right, he stared in wonder. Pale blue eyes stared back into his. "Is something the matter, Ray?"

"Frase?" Ray slowly touched the face in front of him, disbelief firm on his face. "Are you real?"

"Are you feeling well?"

Fraser's hand landed on his forehead, causing him to go cross eyed looking at it. "You're real," he said with a touch of awe.

"Of course I'm real." Fraser stared down at his hand as he removed it from Ray's forehead. "You don't feel fevered, but there might be something else wrong. Did you have a bad dream?"

Ray nodded as he wrapped his arms around the naked Mountie, burying his face in Fraser's neck. In hailing the scent, he smiled blissfully. His arms tightened around Fraser as he pulled their bodies closer, entwining their legs. Tears ran down his face as he kissed the pale white throat.

"Would you like to talk about it? Perhaps it would help..." Benton was silenced as Ray kissed him full on the lips.

Pulling back from the kiss, Ray opened his eyes to stare at a pillow. Looking around, he was back in the cell. Looking around he creaked his neck. His body ached where they had not released his bonds. That was the least of his worries as he had to piss.

"Hey! Yo, fuck heads, come let me out of these, I gotta use the rest room. If I piss myself, I'll kill ya fuck heads." His struggles were met with laughter. Turning his head, he spotted a figure in the cell next to his. "What the fuck are you laughin at?"

He just continued laughing.

It took Ray a moment to realize the guy was in his own world, probably laughing at something no one would understand. "Great, stuck next to a crack head. A little help here!"

"Yeah yeah yeah, keep your shirt on. I'm comin." The sound of boots resounded through out the cells as a man walked down the hall.

"You keep your shirt on, just get these damn cuffs off."

They stopped outside Ray's cell. Keys jangled as they were stuck in the lock and then forced open with the door. "You try to hurt me, and I'll have your ass, Kowalski."

"How the hell am I supposed to hurt you, my arms are dead from lack of circulation."

"Good point, piss pot is over to your right, keep it in the pot, and flush when through else I'll make ya scrub it with your tooth brush." He unlocked the shackles and exited the cell.

Ray stretched out his limbs grimacing from the pain. "Fuck! Damn that hurts."

The guy in the next cell giggled again.

"Yeah, up yours ass hole." Crawling to the toilet, he stared at it like it would bite him. "Unsanitary shits." No other choice, he used the dirty commode. It was cold and stank of stale urine, but he held his breath and then turned away as he flushed.

Giggles erupted into laughter.

Ray sprang against the bars, grabbed the guy's hair, and slammed him head first into the cell wall. When the man started to laugh again, he slammed his face into the wall until he stopped breathing. Feeling better, Ray let the body drop to the floor and walked over to the sink. Cleaning his hands, he grimaced at the dark stains under the nails. For the next thirty minutes he cleaned them until all traces of blood were gone.

"Worthless piece of shit." He spit on the body, then went back to lay on his bunk. Body aching, he ignored the sounds of guards bringing in another guy in the cell on the other side of his.

The guards banged on the cell of the dead druggie, shouting at the man to get up. When they shined a light into it and saw the blood on the wall, they started screaming for medical help.

Ray rolled over and tried to get some sleep.

The warm laughter came back. "That wasn't very nice, Ray."

He rolled his eyes at the guy. "You back again? Is it time for me to know what is going on yet?"

"Almost, Ray, almost."

"Well wake me when it is." He pulled the covers over his head as people started making a fuss over the dead guy in the next cell.

Ray was back in the woods, Fraser was no where in sight. Looking around, he thought they looked familiar, yet couldn't place it. "Okay, what the hell is goin on here?"

"There is no need to shout obscenities, Ray?"

"Where are you, Frase?" The light seemed to part like a fog in the wind and Benton appeared. "Where were you?"

"I was here waiting for you, Ray."

"Then how come I couldn't see you?"

"Because I am not there. You have to come to me, Ray."

Ray looked down at his feet. They were sealed to the ground by roots. "What is goin on?"

"Reach for me, Ray."

Ray stuck out his arms, trying to get him. As they stretched, they turned solid and they over grew with bark. "Frase, help me!"

"I am, Ray. You can let go now."

He watched as Benton's eyes started to glow red then the world disappeared in the brilliant light.

Ray shot up in bed when the door to his cell screeched open. All the cells were empty and the basement block was quiet. Standing, he walked over to the door cautiously. Crossing the threshold, he.... bounced back out the door as the bullet took him in the chest.

He landed hard against the sidewalk unable to breathe. In the numb world around him, shots were fired repeatedly. The guy at his feet took aim again, but was pelted with bullets until his body fell to the ground in pieces. Paramedics were at his side in an instant. A brilliant light show in his eyes as they tried to get him to respond.

Memories came flooding back. The day had started like hell another call from the anonymous person, the punks had spray painted the GTO, and the psychic's stolen baubles were to be returned. He had been trying to avoid the psychic's roaming hand when she touched his cheek. In that same moment he had noticed the parking meters. He told her to go call the police, and she tried to make him not go. They had struggled a little where he pushed her away and ran towards the bank.

Next thing he knew their were shots being fired at him from the door. He had taken shelter behind a car and returned fire wishing he had a .44. When several squad cars appeared around the corner, he had started to rush the perp in order to take advantage of distraction. It hadn't worked, the druggie had flashed him with some fast acting dust. He sneezed. And the world around him faded away as the perp brought his gun to aim at him.

Near by stood two figures in Serge. One in black trim, the other in gold. The gold trim glared at the black trimmed Mountie. "You didn't have to do that."

"He would have pined away for the rest of his life, that was something I couldn't allow."

Gold glared at black. "How do you know, sir?"

"Constable Turnbull, I know, trust me. He is better off dead."

Gold looked down at Ray's now motionless body. "I liked him, he was nice to me."

"All the more reason he had to go. Making him believe I had stayed behind in Canada was the fastest way to see how obsessed he had become. I had to make him want to die, to delay his reaction time long enough for that addicted Human to shoot him. The best way to do that is to use his mind against him. Human emotions are so..."

"Deep?"

"Pointless." Black smirked at gold. "His obsession served no purpose but posed a danger to our assignment. He had become too attached, he simply had to be eliminated."

"Are you going to kill all the Humans that fall in love with you, sir?"

"Who knows, they say third Ray's a charm." Putting back on his Stetson, black walked away unnoticed by the crowds.

Gold stayed behind to watch as they futilely attempted to revive Ray. Steeling himself with a glowing red eyed blink, he put on his Stetson and walked off after black.

The End......