Disclaimer: No money made from this.

Story Notes: Somewhere between a fixit for "Hunting Season" and a new story altogether

Benny and Ray 27 Maggie Rated PG Dee Gilles

Maggie MacKenzie swept into the haven of the Canadian Consulate, ushered by a swift wind that skimmed the vast Lake Michigan.

A young man, precariously stretched up to a chandelier, tottering over his desktop with both hands and his mouth occupied by light bulbs, glanced down in surprise at the abrupt opening of the door.

Maggie waited while the man-- a boy really-- hurriedly completed his bulb replacement, and hopped from his perch like a sparrow.

He was more petite than she was, a full-grown man, only built to three-quarter scale. He was drawn in pastels; pale straw hair, pale blue eyes, pale skin, dressed in white shirt, lavender tie. "May I help you?" He asked.

"I'm looking for Constable Fraser," the soft-spoken woman said.

"You have an appointment?" He asked hopefully.

"Ah...no."

"May I ask what this is regarding? Constable Fraser is rather tied up this afternoon."

"Well...long story. I'm...hoping to seek his assistance in a ...personal matter. Our parents knew one another, you see, and...well, I've come looking for two men wanted for murder in the NWT."

The young man studied the woman thoughtfully for a long moment, appraising. "I see. He's in a meeting at the moment, but should be wrapping up soon," he said, turning his head to check the time. "Would you care to have a seat for a bit?" The man gently smiled. "I'm Chick Caruthers, by the way. I'm Constable Fraser's administrative assistant. May I offer you a cup of Earl Grey?"

"Please," Maggie said, sitting in the chair he indicated. She sunk into the overstuffed chair with a sigh. It was good to get off her feet. She had misjudged how long of a walk it was from the airport to downtown. She dropped her sizable pack to floor next to her.

"Do you take it with sugar, dear?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Back in a bit." He smiled solicitously.

Maggie studied her surroundings. The lobby of the building was dignified and gleaming from floor to ceiling with highly polished mahogany. The carpet was dark and vaguely Turkish in appearance, and flowing, heavy drapes framed the expansive windows. It reminded her of an English gentlemen's club.

The chair in which she was seated was entirely too comfortable. She had too many miles ahead of her to relax now; a matter of utmost importance to take care of. Then she could afford to relax. Maggie stood again, wearily. She began to wander, meandering to the window. She peered down to the street below, watched the traffic race by, and the pedestrians hurry past. She wondered where everyone was going, where they were coming from. America was a strange place, full on contradictions. America claimed to be a melting pot, but was full of racial tension; claimed justice for all when in fact it was justice for those who could pay; poverty and wealth coexisted on the same side of the street. It was an increasingly violent society, full of guns and hatred. The public education system was breaking down as educators lowered their standards with each passing year. School shootings were becoming commonplace. The expense of medical care was out of control. And yet, every downtrodden person from all over the world dreamed of coming to America. Yet Maggie, barely in country a few hours, couldn't wait to return home.

She heard a door open, and turned her head, expecting the return of the young man. Instead, an older man emerged from a nearby office, a gray-haired man in a blue pin stripe suit. He was ushered out by an RCMP official, wearing a daily dress uniform.

"Thank you again, Mr. Fraser," the older man said. "The South Side Boys and Girls Club really appreciates the donation. We can do a lot with this." He folded a check and slipped it into his breast pocket, patted it. "The kids are looking forward to your visit. It's all they've talked about."

Constable Fraser responded, "It's my pleasure. We'll see you soon." The two men briefly gripped hands, and the officer escorted the man to the door where they exchanged goodbyes.

He then turned to Maggie in a way that suggested that he had noticed her from the moment he emerged from his office, although he hadn't seemed to have glanced her way. "How may I assist you?" He smoothly said, and approached her with a small but genuine smile. Although not uncommonly large, the man did take up a fair amount of space, and had a certain density, a heavy thickness to his body that was not fat. She could feel the floorboards give with his strides, and it made her feel physically connected to him. His eyebrows were arched in mild curiosity.

"Benton Fraser?" She asked.

"Yes."

Maggie heard footsteps behind him as the young man returned, two mugs of steaming tea in hand. "Here you are, dear. Constable." He handed one mug to her and the other to Ben Fraser.

"Ah, Charles! Thank you kindly."

"No problem." The young man retreated to his desk, and seemed to make himself invisible as he turned to task.

Maggie stuck out her free hand, which the man took, and squeezed. "I'm Constable Maggie MacKenzie. From Inuvik."

Constable Fraser's handgrip was firm and hot. "MacKenzie? The name sounds familiar."

"Yes, well your father and my mother were friends. I certainly know your name. You're infamous in the north."

Maggie thought she saw a shadow cross his face for a second, like a cloud that briefly blocked the sun. "Well! Umm... so what brings you to Chicago? Business or pleasure?"

"Neither. I'm on the trail of two men, and I thought you could help me."

"I see. Why don't we step in my office?" Maggie grabbed her bag and followed him. Once inside and seated, Maggie withdrew a photo from the inside of her hat. "These two men, the Tirelli brothers, are killers. The murder was particularly brutal, and I knew the man they killed. Sometimes, you just can't let go of these things. You ever feel that way?"

"Frequently," he admitted.

Maggie knew all about why Benton Fraser came to Chicago. Everybody did. "I heard from a very good source that they might come to Chicago. They have other family here. I had some time off, and thought I'd check it out for myself."

"If these two men are murder suspects, then it might be prudent to pursue this through more...official...channels." He eyed her, weighing her reaction.

She said emphatically, "Officially, they had an alibi, but if I can find them, I know I can prove that they did it."

"I see," he softly said, with a touch of resignation in his voice. "But you see, in my position, I, uh..." He flailed his hands helplessly for a moment.

"I see," she said, unconsciously mimicking his phrase. "I understand. You don't want to get involved. Everything I heard about you, I figured you could help me out." She stood and reached out her hand. "Thank you anyway, Constable." And with that, she grabbed her bag and hoisted it on her shoulder. She took her time, and walked slowly to the door, expecting to be called back. He didn't disappoint.

"Wait," he said.

She turned back expectantly, and saw him standing there, deciding something. "I have a...friend...in the Chicago Police Department. Perhaps he can help."

VVVVVVV

The police station was bustling with people, noise, papers, and various scents; ink, gun oil, mildew, and burning cheese. Ben led Maggie straight to the back right corner, where two desks were pushed together front to front, and were nearly surrounded by tall file cabinets. The walls were covered with file pockets. Both desks had piles of untidy stacks of paper. A man with thick arms sat pounding away on a twenty-year-old typewriter. What appeared to be a husky sat at the man's feet. The animal looked up at Ben, yawned, and closed his eyes.

"And I'm happy to see you too, Diefenbaker. Hard at work, I see." The animal only grumbled in response, not bothering to open his eyes. The man at the desk had turned. He eyed Maggie with what a friend of hers called `elevator eyes'.

"Michael," Ben said, "Have you seen Ray?"

"Hey, Fraser." The man said, not taking his eyes off Maggie. "He's in the canteen."

"Thank you kindly." Ben led her down the crowded corridor to a small windowless room with food machines that served as a cafeteria. In the room were several people in uniform, of various ages and races, as well as a couple of men in plain clothes. One of the men, tall, balding and with olive skin, clutched a cup of steaming coffee as he conversed with a short Latina. "Ray!" Ben called.

The man looked up, surprised. "Benny! What are you doing here? Everything okay?"

"Yes, Ray, everything's fine, but we need your help."

"You got it," the man said without hesitation.

"Ray, I'd like you to meet Constable Maggie MacKenzie, from the NWT. Maggie, Detective Raymond Vecchio, and his aide, Margarita Gamez."

Maggie stuck out her hand. "Please to meet you both," she said, shaking hands in turn. She thought it was amusing that this man called Ben Fraser `Benny'. It made the legendary Mountie seem more human, and put her at ease.

"Constable MacKenzie is seeking information on the whereabouts of Mike and Mark Tirelli, wanted for a murder in the NWT last year. They have family in the area, and we have reason to believe they're holed up here."

Ray and Margarita glanced at one another. "I'll get right on it," she said in a soft Spanish accent. "Follow me." She and Ben began to follow, before Ray called him back.

"Benny, a word?" Ben pulled up short, and indicated with a gesture that she should continue to follow Margarita. The women sat together at her desk, as Margarita quizzed her as to the particulars of the men. She came back with a hit immediately, and had several pages of data printed when Ben returned with Ray.

"Whatcha got, Marg?" Ray asked. The man with the thick arms approached the group clustered around Margarita's desk. Detective Vecchio indicated with a nod of his head, "My partner, Micky Doyle," before turning his attention back to the computer screen. Maggie nodded at the man, who smiled into her eyes, holding her gaze a little too long.

"Bad men," Margarita grimly commented as she continued her search through her database. "Assault. Robbery. Career criminals. Racketeering. Wire fraud. Conspiracy. Both of them have done some hard time. Joliet. Sing Sing."

Micky peered over her shoulder. "Look at this. Mike was out in ninety-four, and his brother in ninety-six. Then it's like they dropped off the face of the earth."

Maggie nodded. "They pulled their first Canadian bank job in ninety-seven. The story picks up from there."

"Check known associates, Marg." Ray said intently peering at the screen.

The woman quickly complied.

"Bingo," Micky Doyle said. "Tommy Ellis. 1239 Wickford Ave, Sherman."

"Wanna go shake his peaches?" Ray asked.

"Oh yeah," Micky said. "Let's get into it." He cracked his knuckles, and Maggie instantly liked him.

"Benny, we'll take it from here. Let us drop you off at the Consulate. We'll bring Maggie back by later today." Ray patted his right pocket and keys jingled. He drained his paper coffee cup. "Let's go," he said.

VVVVVV

They arrived at the door of drab, gray and run-down apartment building. Maggie could hear a dog anxiously barking in the distance. There was a crying baby on this floor. From another direction, Maggie heard a television blaring. She trailed behind the men by a few paces. Diefenbaker, the wolf, walked along side her, occasionally glancing up into her face.

They were an odd couple, Vecchio and Doyle. Very dissimilar, as she observed on the drive out to Sherman. She was surprised they got along. It was rather like seeing a cat and dog be best buddies. In fact, they physically reminded Maggie of such; Ray was like a tall black panther, lanky, loose-limbed and silent on his feet, and Doyle was thick, wide, and low to the ground, with a stride of an English bulldog. Doyle loudly banged on the door, and Ray called out, "Tommy Ellis? Open up! Chicago PD!"

A pale thin man answered the door.

"Tommy Ellis?" Doyle asked.

"Yeah?"

Ray thrust her photo of the Tirelli brothers in his face. "You know these guys?"

"I did some time for speeding with this guy, Markie."

"You did some time for speeding?" Doyle asked.

"Yeah, from speeding away from a bank robbery!" The man chuckled at his own cleverness.

"You seen him lately?" Ray asked, ignoring the man's cuteness.

"Nope," the man said adamantly, but avoiding eye contact with any of them. "Haven't seen him in years."

Maggie stepped into the doorway and put her hand on the man's aorta. "Wanna tell me that one again?" She asked. She surprised all three men by pushing her way into the apartment.

VVVVVVV

It was nearly two hours later by the time Ray Vecchio pulled up to the curb of the Canadian Consulate with his passengers.

Doyle said, "We're always glad to help any member of the RCMP in any way that we can. Right, Ray? Here, let me get the door for you." The man leapt from the car to open her door. When Doyle saw how she handled Ellis, he instantly seemed to have fallen in love with her. Maggie suspected he was one of those men who liked his women a little rough on him. Maybe he liked to be forced into a leash and dog collar, coerced into crawling around on all fours. She knew of men like him. It wasn't her thing, but the idea of Doyle crawling around on all fours, panting for attention, was amusing, nonetheless.

The three let themselves into the consulate, followed by the wolf. Chick Caruthers looked up from his typing, and immediately stopped when he recognized who his visitors were. "Detective Vecchio! Pleasure to see you again," he said. "Detective Doyle. Ma'am."

"Hey Chick, what's up? Benny around?"

Before Chick could answer, Ben Fraser emerged from his office. "How'd it go?" He asked.

Ray answered, "We made some headway. We know he's lying about what he knows or doesn't know about the Tirellis."

Maggie added, "I get the impression that they haven't put their bank-robbing days behind them. It's only a matter of time before they resurface."

"Yeah, we should get together," Doyle said, "to discuss strategy. Maybe over dinner, drinks? I know this place--

"Oh, she's not going anywhere alone with you," Ray quipped. "You kiddin' me?"

"Are you going to put a tail on Ellis?" Ben asked.

"We're all over him, Benny. But first, we gotta get back to the station, though, and wrap up a few things. I'm gonna be late getting in, though. Louise is on me to get prepared for the Muldoon-Bolt case. That one's got an ambitious gleam in her eye. She's sure this is the one that's going to make her a shoo-in for DA. And she' probably right." Ray rubbed his tired eyes. "We passed the courthouse on the way, and there must be a dozen news vans parked out front already, ABC, CBS, NBC, CNN and everybody else." He turned to Maggie. "Can we drop you at your hotel?"

"Umm, well, I don't have one...yet. I came straight in. Maybe you could recommend something--inexpensive? Or a shelter would be fine. I have a feeling I'm going to be here a while."

Maggie noticed a look pass between Ben and Ray over head. "Ray," Ben said.

Ray cleared his throat. "Hey, look, uh, Benny and I have a spare room at our place, if you want to crash with us. It's no Drake Hotel or anything, but...it's pretty comfortable."

Ben smiled at her encouragingly, a warm smile that crinkled his eyes. Maggie thought he looked a little like his dad when he smiled. Their dad. She nodded, smiling back at him. "That'd be real nice," she said.

Diefenbaker whuffed.

"You comin' back with us, furface?" Ray asked.

He whuffed again, and plopped at Maggie's feet.

"OK, suit yourself," he said. "Alright, Doyle. Let's roll. See you tonight, Benny. Wait up for me?"

"Of course, Ray. See you then." Doyle and Vecchio departed.

So. They were living together, Ben and Ray. Another odd couple, she thought. She had spent the better part of an afternoon with Ray Vecchio, and had sized him up fairly quickly. He was a seasoned detective, hard-boiled. He was not intelligent in the academic sense, but he had a hard-won quick-wittedness--the kind of intelligence that was `adapt quickly or die'. She bet he had a seen a lot of things that he never, ever discussed with anyone, kept it all under his hat. He was not an unfriendly man. In fact, he was a loudmouth; he had a lot to say about everything. Yet somehow, Ray Vecchio was simply--closed.

Ben Fraser, on the other hand, was soft and supple where Ray has hard and rigid. The man was beyond brilliant. She knew from a friend of hers, Ovitz, that Ben Fraser had the IQ to easily qualify for MENSA. Ovitz had access to Ben's file, which included a full-scale psych review. That mind of his could solve any problem put to him, and what intelligence couldn't resolve, his obsessive willpower would. He'd been known to stalk perpetrators for weeks, months, in all kinds of weather, at all costs, even to the point of near-death if necessary. He did tend toward delusional, however, and often saw people as he chose to see him. And there were some disturbing patterns of potential schizophrenia that as near as the RCMP psychiatrists could determine, had remained in latency.

Now that she thought about it, Ben and Ray were not at odds at all; they were perfect yin and yang.

Ben turned back to Maggie after seeing Doyle and Vecchio to the door. "Well," he sighed. "You must be exhausted after twenty-four hours of traveling. Would you like to go?"

Maggie suddenly did feel weary down to her bones. "A bed sounds really good right now." So good, she thought she would cry.

"I only need to wrap up something with my deputy, and let her know I'm going to be stepping out for the evening. Would you like to meet her?"

Ben led Maggie to an office in the back corner of the long corridor, where he knocked. "Ah, Constable MacGregor. I'd like you to meet Constable Maggie MacKenzie, visiting us from Inuvik."

The brunette stood and smiled at Maggie. "Constable"

"Constable," Maggie replied.

"Mac, I'm going to be leaving a little early. I've extended an invitation to Constable MacKenzie to stay in my home while she is taking care of some personal business, so I thought it best to see her home now. Please remind Constable Turnbull when he returns from guard duty that he is expected at Midway tomorrow morning to pick up Ambassador and Mrs. La Toque at 07:15 at Gate 17. And you'll be fine tomorrow?"

"Of course. Don't worry. Everything is under control. I will be taking Mrs. La Toque on a personal tour of the city while the Ambassador is at negotiations. You'll be happy to know that I managed to acquire two tickets to a taping of `Oprah' tomorrow. I've already phoned Mrs. La Toque, and she's thrilled."

"Ah, well done, Constable!" Fraser exclaimed.

"Thank you, sir!"

"Have a good evening, Constable. And do extend my apologies again for not being able to personally see to the Ambassador."

"Of course, sir. Nice to meet you, Constable MacKenzie."

"You too."

"Maggie, I only have to shut down my computer and check my voice mail, I'll be right with you, if you'd like to have a seat in the lobby. Are you hungry?"

"Starved," she admitted.

"How's pizza?"

"I think I could eat two."

As they crossed by Chick again, Ben Fraser asked, "Charles, would you mind calling in an order of two large pizzas to Vinny's and let him know I'll be there at six o'clock to pick them up? What would you like, Maggie?"

"Anything's fine. I'm not picky. Just no anchovies, please."

"No problem. Charles, order one pizza with tomatoes, peppers, onions, and sausage. And one Hawaiian style."

The young man complied as Ben Fraser retreated to his office. He emerged again a few minutes later. "Ready?"

"Ready," she said.

He held out his hand for her pack. "I thought we'd take the El," he said. "It's only a few stops to Little Italy from here."

VVVVVVV

Maggie toted two hot pizzas while Ben Fraser strode along side her, on a quiet, but industrial avenue. It was the kind of street that was no doubt bustling all day, but as soon as five o'clock arrived, it became a ghost town. Though the buildings had a slightly tired look, it appeared as though the street had had a recent facelift. The street had been recently repaved, and in fact, still smelled of fresh asphalt. Small saplings lined both sides of the streets, staked against the harsh winter gales. Maggie could see that many of the buildings lining the street were old factories that had been converted into loft space. It was to one of these buildings that Ben led her. Diefenbaker raced ahead of them, and waited by the door to be let in.

The apartment was striking, Maggie thought. It was spacious, with ceilings that were easily twelve feet tall. The windows were nearly that tall, and had ficus plants in front of them. There were no curtains.

Ben showed her to her room. The room contained a Mission style desk and chair, a three-drawer dresser that also served also as a night stand, and a queen-sized bed with an unadorned blue bedspread. A Hudson Bay point blanket was stretched across the foot of the bed. The point blanket made Maggie long for home.

She was curious as to what Ben's bedroom looked like, and Ray's but the rest of the doors to the apartment were firmly shut. He pointed out the bathroom, and left her to serve the pizza.

Maggie scrubbed her face and hands. She stared at her reflection. She had dark circles under her eyes. She didn't think she felt this run-down since Casey died. There was the staggering news of his murder, the funeral, and all the days after that had to be gotten through. The days of silence, of the air pregnant with expectation, where some part of her soul still watched for him, still waited for him to come through the front door, drop in an exhausted heap on the couch, and tell her about his day. And she would come to him, sit on his lap and place his head between her breasts. He would breathe her in, listen to her heart beat. All of that, gone now, his own heart stilled by a single bullet.

Someone had to pay. And someone would.

VVVVVV

They had polished off an entire pizza hours ago, washed down with milk, and now sat savoring pieces of pemmican that Maggie had retrieved from her bag. At his first bite, Ben had closed his eyes, and moaned in pleasure. "Mmmm. Tastes just like home," he said. They sat at the dining room table in front of the tall windows. Upon arrival home, Ben had changed from his uniform to jeans and a white undershirt, and now appeared much less imposing.

Maggie had removed her serge and braces. "Mom made it more me. She learned how to cure it from an Inuit woman, using special spices. It's a highly guarded recipe, I'll have you know," she said.

"Oh, that's good," Ben murmured appreciatively around a mouthful of the dried meat. "Your mother's got a special touch."

"She's a great cook." She took another couple of bites. "Did you ever get to meet her? My mother?"

"It seems likely that I would have, in such a small village, but I don't remember her if I did. I don't remember my dad bringing women around, but maybe our paths crossed in town or something. What's your mother like?"

"Not unlike all the other women in the village. Strong and sturdy, independent, protective. Although recently, her health isn't what it used to be. We've talked about moving her into a town so she can be close to modern emergency medical services. Either Whitehorse or Juneau, but she won't even consider it. She'd rather take her chances than move to a city. I'm the same way. Can't stand feeling closed in like this."

Ben chuckled. "I used to feel the same. But I've come to love the city, the States."

"How can you ? Everything's so large...so impersonal." Maggie asked.

Ben smiled. "One person at a time. You just get to know one person at a time, that's all." Ben paused to let a city bus pass before he spoke again. "The image of the city as one unit is really a deception. All it really is is a series of small villages clustered together and sharing resources. Each village contains one or more tribes. Let's take this place, for example. We are `in Chicago', clearly, but we are also in Little Italy, which is a small village, quite smaller than Inuvik, actually. It's comprised mostly of people from southern Italy, as Ray's family is. It has its own restaurants, barber shops, auto dealerships and repair shops, shoe stores, and so forth that have been in business for decades. Everyone knows the owners and they know the people in the neighborhood. Burt, my barber, used to cut Ray's dad's hair. My butcher used to date Ray's mother in high school. Ray's grandfather, Dr. Esposito, probably delivered half the adults living in neighborhood, at St. Donatus Hospital, which is just down the street. Ray and I go to the YMCA frequently, and we play basketball with a lot of his old high school friends. They know me. At least, they kind of know me. I mean, they do know me, but...you see, they think my name is Benny Vecchio, which, I guess one could say is a case of mistaken identity, so in fact they don't `know me' know me, since that's not really my name. But then again, I suppose it is, in a sense, because I'm really part of Ray's family; I call his mother `Mother' and she introduces me as her son to strangers in the street, and we go to mass together every week, even though I'm not Catholic, and I'm sorry, I'm blithering, aren't I?"

Maggie laughed. "You do make city life seem very appealing."

"It is. And the supreme beauty of life in the city is that we have exposure to so much culture that I couldn't experience living in a small town in Canada. Just last weekend, Ray, Mother, Ray's cousin Valerie, his Uncle Lorenzo, and I went to see The Three Tenors. The music, their voices, was exquisite. A couple of months ago, Valerie and I went to see Les Miserable. I was so inspired that I am currently reading Hugo's novel in his original French. Ah! Exquisite!"

"You do seem at home here. Think you'll ever go back to Territories?"

Ben shook his head. "My home, my life, is here with Ray."

Maggie let that sink in.

"Ray. He's your lover." It was not a question.

"Yes," he said with a quiet pride.

Maggie put her elbows on the kitchen table, her chin in her hands. "Well, I like the fellow. He's got a certain je ne c'est quoi."

Ben smirked. "Oh, that he does!" A mischievous smile flitted across his face for a moment before he turned away and composed his expression.

"The Territories are still very much with me, you know. We have a cabin outside Yellowknife. It was my dad's. It was...burned to the ground about four years ago, in an arson."

"I heard about that, yes."

"Ray and I had it rebuilt on the old footprint last year. We added a loft up top, and some modern amenities, and now it's our vacation home. We're going back for two weeks this August."

She asked a question she had wanted to know for a long time. "Your dad," she said hesitantly. "What was he really like? I mean, beyond the Mountie stuff?"

"I didn't know him all that well, sadly; he kept a lot from me. Too much. He was strong, driven. Smart."

"What was like as a person, I'm asking. I want to know how he was with you."

"My dad was...funny."

"Really?!"

"He was. He had a kind of dry sarcasm. He saw humor in everyday things, small things," he mused. "Sometimes, he would tell me the tallest, most preposterous tales, with a straight face, and expect me to believe it. Sometimes, I actually would, because he was so serious about it, or I was so gullible--or both, I suppose." Benton laughed. "Once, he told me that when he was coming up in the force, they were only issued a stick and a paper bag for survival, and if you lost either one, they'd charge you for it!"

They both laughed. "At the time, I couldn't appreciate the humor in that. Now I do."

"And what else what he like, as a father?"

Ben peered at her for a moment, poised to ask a question, but evidently thinking better of it. He considered for a moment, and answered her question. "He was...distant. After my mother died, I remember him taking me to Grammy and Paw Paw's. I was scared. I'd never been away from home overnight. He took me there, and in the morning...I saw him leaving, and so I naturally, began to gather my things and go with him. And he told me I was staying there. Just like that. And he walked out. I remember screaming, crying. I ran after him, out into the cold, a blizzard. I wanted him to pick me up, to hold me. And he wouldn't. Told me to `buck up', or something. He hauled me up, and took me back inside and handed me to Paw Paw like I was a sack of potatoes. Six years old, and I had to `buck up'" There was unmistakable bitterness in his voice. Anger. Thirty years of anger. "I was a baby."

"I never knew my dad," Maggie sadly said. Her statement, while deceptive, was also very true. Maggie had known for years that Bob Fraser was her dad. She'd stumbled across an obituary for Matt Stern when she was sixteen, and discovered the truth. It was on her eighteenth birthday when her mother confessed the real identity of her father. She didn't believe it; it was like something out of a soap opera.

Her mother, upon hearing of the death of Bob Fraser, tearfully opened up to Maggie. Told her what a wonderful man he was; loving, passionate, and lonely. They were a widow and widower who brought each other comfort. There was love, but it was the kind of love inspired by salvation; they were each other's hero, rescuing the other from a burning building of despair. They had little else in common. By the time Ellen had learned she was pregnant, Bob had moved on; he and his partner Buck were on patrol in the Selwyn Mountains, worlds away. There was no question that she would raise the child on her own. Whether Bob was aware of the child or not, she would be alone.

Maggie, upon discovering her real father, got her hands on as much information as she could about Ben Fraser, Bob's son by Caroline Pinsent. Everyone knew about the "Dam Gate", as it had come to be known, and how Benton had been banished to America for whistle-blowing. Maggie kept track of him, through Ovitz, mostly, but she could only ask so much of him without giving herself away.

And now, here she was, half-way across the vast continent, sitting here in her half-brother's kitchen, speaking of their dad, and she couldn't even tell him. She wouldn't tell him. What would she think, if some man came to her out of the blue one day, and announced he was her long-lost brother? That kind of thing only happened on television, and this was the real world.

She realized Ben had been staring at her for quite some time as she contemplated him. "What is it?" He gently asked.

Maggie smiled, chin still resting in her palms. "I'm staring. I'm sorry." She continued to stare at her brother. Her brother! He looked nothing like his father, really, so she presumed he took after his mother. His cheekbones and full lips had the look common among people whose ancestors were of Scotch and Inuit descent, an extremely common blend in their part of the world. His gray eyes were distinctly European, but those high cheekbones were of the indigenous people. She wondered if he realized.

Ben cleared his throat. "Well...thank you for the pemmican."

"And thank you for dinner," she responded.

He rose, taking the nearly-empty pizza box with him.

Maggie said, "Ummm...tomorrow? I thought I could go back to the station, and get some more info on Ellis's known associates. Perhaps I can get Doyle's assistance with authorization for a wire tap or video surveillance; he seemed most eager to help."

"Oh, that he did," Ben said, as though telling himself a joke.

Maggie heard the doorknob twist, and one second later Ray Vecchio called out. Ben had stood as soon as he heard the sound, and disappeared to meet Ray at the door. She heard the distinct sound of a kiss exchanged, greetings murmured. It reminded her, with sharp pain, of living with Casey.

"Did you eat?" Ben asked. "I got you a Hawaiian pizza."

"Yep," Ray said. "But I'll take a piece, anyways."

"Hot or cold?"

"Heat it up for me?"

Ray turned the corner to the dining room and saw Maggie sitting there. "Hey," he said simply, as though she was an old friend he'd known for years. "How's it goin'? Benny talkin' your ear off, or what?"

"I heard that," Ben called over the din of the microwave.

"No, it's good. He's good. We were just talking about back home."

"You from Run-amok-luck too?"

"What?"

Ray chuckled. "Inside joke. Tuktoyaktuk."

"Oh. Inuvik, actually."

"Is that downtown Inuvik, or more of the outskirts?"

Maggie looked at him curiously. "Downtown, I suppose you could say. Have you been there?"

"Are you kiddin' sister? Not in a million years. Did you go through that stuff that Marg gave you?"

"Yeah. Pretty interesting. You think you or your partner will have time to lend me a hand tomorrow? "

"Well, unfortunately, I'm being called into a trial tomorrow morning, and will be tied up for days, I'm sure. You know how these things drag on and on. Doyle would love to help you. He really likes you. You can leave with us tomorrow. I've got to drop Benny off at INS first, and then we can go over."

"INS?"

"He didn't tell you?" Ray took a seat. "He has his test and interview tomorrow. For U.S. citizenship? God. He only had to wait six months for this. People die of old age waiting for the test. Bureaucrats."

Ben returned with two slices of pizza for Ray, and seated himself to one side of him. Diefenbaker had appeared from nowhere and was on the other side, where he proceeded to silently beg Ray for a little morsel. Maggie was reminded of the Pied Piper, as all eyes shifted to Ray.

"No, he didn't mention," Maggie resumed. "I probably didn't give him much of a chance; I wanted to hear about his dad."

"Most people do. I don't mind," Ben said.

"And it's his birthday tomorrow too."

"Oh! He didn't tell me that either! Well, Happy Birthday, Ben!" she said.

"We're going to the Russian Tea Room for an early supper, if you'd like to join us," Ray said.

"Oh. I couldn't. I'm sure you'd rather be alone," she hedged, although she though it would be fun to talk to Ben some more, and Ray, and watch the two of them together.

"We're not going to be alone," Ray said. "Not by a long shot. My sister, brother-in-law, and mother, along with our friend Elaine, and Turnbull, and Mac, and Chick will be there too. Oh, and Benny, Joey Paducci's coming too, with the new wife."

"Wonderful! And I also took the liberty of inviting H, and Mr. Pianpiano, too. Hope that's alright."

"Your party, Benny."

"Sounds like quite the guest list," Maggie gasped.

"There's room for one more around the table," Ben said gently.

"Well...maybe," she said. "Listen. I should be getting to bed."

"Oh! Yes, I'm sorry," Ben said. "You must be exhausted. I'm sorry to have kept you up so late."

"Not at all. I had fun." She stood. "What time are we leaving in the morning?"

"I hope nine isn't too early for you," Ray said.

"Oh no. I'm usually up at 05:00."

"Oh God, another one." Ray rolled his eyes.

"Good night," Ben said.

Maggie retreated to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She could hear the men talking as she ran the water, but could not make out their words.

She used the toilet. When she exited the room, she could see that the lights in the dining and living room were out, and that they had retreated to their bedroom.

Maggie crawled into the tall, plush bed and stretched out with a groan. It felt so good to be in bed. It seemed like days that she had been on the run. She didn't know how long she could stay here until news of what she had done reached the Consulate office. She figured as long as she behaved normally, didn't arouse any suspicion, there was no reason for Ben to check up on her story. Tomorrow, she'd track down Tommy Ellis again. She paid close attention to the streets so she could find him again, on her own. And Ellis, she knew, would lead her to the Tirellis sooner or later. She carried a service revolver, and a back-up gun. She'd need to buy extra ammo tomorrow. She wasn't taking any chances.

As they often did at night, her thoughts turned to her husband. Casey. Casey was dead. Barely past their third anniversary, and her husband was gone. She couldn't imagine having any other lover. Casey was wonderful. He was an exciting man. They both loved to kayak the rapids, hike, hunt, fish. They often camped in the deep woods in the summer. There was a small hidden pond, well away from Great Bear Lake, nestled in a sun-spilled clearing that they considered their own. The deep water was so clear that you could see all the way to the bottom. It was glacier-fed and was icy even in the summer. They loved it. It was there that they first made love. Sometimes, they went nude, confident they wouldn't see another human being until they were ready to. Casey had good hands. Sensitive hands that would gently caress the wettest places of her body. His hands felt so good that she would hum a certain tune--this tune with no melody, this erotic undulating moan that ended in a sharp `oh!' Her body would rise, arch, to meet his hands that playfully retreated.

She knew why he did what he did. Casey loved adventure, was addicted to the adrenaline rush; what he did was never about the money. It was his misfortune to be married to Mountie. He had tried to shield her from the things that went on while he was "away on business", but she found out soon enough. And looked the other way until it was too late. She should have stopped him. He wouldn't be dead now if she had the courage to stand up to him. To make him do what was right. Her weakness of character had failed him.

She felt herself being pulled down by sleep.

The faint sound of a bed squeaking brought her up again. She rolled over to check the time. Four a.m. Down the hall, she heard Ben's voice, muffled and faint. He was humming a tune with no melody.

VVVVV

Maggie and Ray reached the station at 09:15, where Ray talked briefly with Micky Doyle before heading out for the day.

As much as Doyle wanted to help her, he knew where the line was. As far as the law was concerned, there was no just cause for a search warrant or phone surveillance. He and Marg gave her as much information as they could. And then, Maggie was on her own. She lugged with her an oversized canvas bag, which held, among other things, her .38 handgun.

VVVVV

Maggie found a location across the street from Tommy Ellis's place that afforded the perfect vantage point. She could see both his apartment, and the front entrance, could see him pacing across the front windows. If he left, she'd know about it. She settled in for the long haul.

VVVVVV

Maggie finally caught a break just after five o'clock. Tommy Ellis walked out of his front door, stuck his hands into his pockets, and turned left, headed north. Maggie quickly tailed him. Getting lost in the rush hour crowd was easy.

He popped into a seedy convenience store, its shop windows covered in signs that announced "we accept WIC", "food stamps accepted", and "money orders available." Ellis emerged two minutes later tapping a cigarette out of a tight little pack. He continued due north. Maggie tailed him onto the El train, remaining two cars back as a precaution.

He led her on a circuitous route to a run-down race track on the outskirts of town. The lounge he led her through had the look of a party after all of the guests have departed; food and drink remains strewn across the bar, cigarette ashes left in coffee cups at tables, chairs pulled out and left askew. Ellis ordered an amber drink from the tired-looking bartender, bolted it down, and smoked a cigarette. He then moved out to the track.

After seeing Ellis settle into a seat a few rows in from the track, she left him to attend to her bodily need.

The ladies room was barely useable. Maggie only used it because she was out of options. She had been holding it for hours, in fact, fearing losing Ellis if she stopped for one moment to pee. Jogging into the stall and yanking down her jeans, she peed fiercely, hovering over the seat and trying not to notice the vile smell that permeated the room. She was surprised a place like this even had a ladies' room, as she'd seen no female customers in the place. She supposed the facilities were for the few waitresses and female bartenders who were unfortunate enough to be stuck at a place like this. Wouldn't hurt them to hire a cleaning lady or two, either.

Maggie finished and flushed. She stepped out of her jeans, and dug through her oversized bag, and drawing out a yellow dress and sandals, quickly changed. She slipped into a short, black wig.

Maggie washed her hands and emerged from the public facility, feeling dirty nonetheless. She was starving. She had grabbed something of a lunch in the canteen at the station before she headed out to tail Ellis, but that was hours ago. She glanced at her watch. Right about now, her brother was heading out for a birthday celebration with his boyfriend and family, and friends. He certainly had a rich life. She envied him.

She searched the dim, cigarette-stale room for signs of life. Maggie heard dishes rattling in a distant kitchen, to which she headed. "Hello?" she called.

A tattered-looking young woman, dressed in kitchen whites, looked up from the soiled dishes she hosed down. The water steamed, and the woman's hands were red and raw-looking.

"Yeah?" the woman said guardedly.

"I wondered if I might trouble you for a menu? There's no one out there," she said pointing toward the deserted lounge.

"Won't do you any good. Kitchen's closed right now."

"Oh, no. I see." Her stomach panged in disappointment.

The woman shut off the water. "Are you okay? You look kinda pale," she said.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm fine. Just haven't eaten since this morning. Is there any other place I can grab a bite to eat around here?"

"Well, you mean if you are expecting something edible?" the woman asked. "No," she said, letting her guard down with a chuckle. The woman appeared to be Maggie's age, maybe a little older. She did not look like life had been kind to her. "Listen, I'm about to go on my break. I was going to heat up some leftovers from today's "chicken surprise", if you want a little. If anyone asks, just say you're a friend of mine from the neighborhood. You....look like you could use one," she said. "Look, I don't know how to fix nothin', but I can sure listen, if you want somebody to talk to."

She hadn't realized that her circumstance showed on her face so clearly. Maggie sadly smiled. Ben was right. You make a friend one person at a time. "Thank you kindly," she said. "That'd be nice."

VVVVVV

Maggie, outfitted now in all black clothes and a red wig, pursued Tommy Ellis with a tired doggedness. She knew they had ended up in the infamous South Side. Looking around, she could see that its reputation was well-deserved. The street Tommy meandered down looked like London after the Blitzkrieg.

Tommy had won some money at the track. He had made his way over here where he blew it all in short order. First, he bought himself a little blow, and then visited a whore in the alley, behind a dumpster. Thankfully, his liaison lasted only ten minutes, in which time, Maggie had gotten several offers for her services, as well as being offered a dime bag. She wanted desperately to go `home', to crawl into the bed at Ben's place, pull the covers up, and sleep for the next twenty-hours.

But she couldn't let go. Not now. Not ever.

Tommy wore a beeper that went off, its pitch cutting sharply through noisy cars and people on the street. It was a hot summer night, and so the streets were full of people, hanging on corners, in stoops, out of windows. Tommy stopped at a phone booth and dialed, while Maggie ducked under the eaves of a boarded up building, and her back toward Tommy. She could hear his every word.

"Yeah, what?" He grumbled into the phone once the person on the other end picked up. "Cleveland! What's in Cleveland?...Okay, yeah, yeah. Listen. There was some cops yesterday that came looking for you. I dunno. I don't remember. Two guys looked like Mutt and Jeff. There was a girl with them."

Maggie peaked from her hiding spot and saw Tommy anxiously looking around. She quickly ducked back out of sight. "Maybe we oughta lay low for a while...I don't know about this...I really don't want to go back inta the joint again. Whadda ya mean? I don't owe you nothin'!" Tommy Ellis slammed the phone down, and quickly withdrew. Maggie pulled herself all the way in to avoid detection. Tommy blindly walked past her, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

VVVVVV

Cleveland. She had to get to Cleveland ahead of the Tirellis. But she had to get to Ben's first, for her things. It was 1 a.m. All the lights in the apartment, as she expected, were out. She didn't want to wake them. And it was best that Ben and Ray not know her agenda, in any case. What she had planned to do the Tirellis once she caught up with them wasn't sanctioned in any country.

Maggie crept up the fire escape, and jimmied the window open with a knife. She silently opened the window, steadied herself by grabbing the top of the window. She slipped one leg in. A firm hand grasped her wrist. She yelped.

"Maggie?" Ben said, bewildered. He was in boxer shorts, bare-chested.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you."

Ben helped her inside. "I was up. I was worried. I was thinking of rousing Dief and going to search for you." He switched on a nearby lamp.

"I'm glad you didn't. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," he said, noting her lopsided wig, and no doubt, the dark smudges under her eyes. "Come and sit. Let me get you some water. Have you eaten?"

"I don't have time to sit. I know where the Tirellis are headed. I've got to go. Tonight."

"Maggie! You look like you're about to drop. Please. Sit. It will keep until the morning." Ben gently guided her to the couch.

"No! No, it won't keep. I've got to go now. There's an overnight train. May I please use your phone? I need to call a cab."

Ben dropped down on the couch next to her, staring in concern. "You'll kill yourself if you keep going this way, you know."

"I don't care! Casey--

"Your husband. I know."

"How'd you find out?" she gasped.

"I have my resources," he said only.

"Now you understand. Now you understand that I've got to keep going. To bring these men to justice."

"It won't bring Casey back," Ben bluntly said.

Maggie burst into exhausted, frustrated tears, surprising both of them. Ben rose, and returned a moment later with a box of tissues. He had put on a T-shirt and pajama bottoms. Maggie grabbed a handful of tissues and mopped her face. "I'm sorry," she said, at last. "I don't want to burden you with this."

Ben only sat and waited for her to speak, fixing her with a patient gaze. She wanted to tell him everything. She knew that he of all people would understand what she was feeling. His footsteps before her were plain enough.

Maggie returned his gaze resolutely, openly staring into his face, memorizing every feature, wondering what it would be like to stay here, to get to know him. She wondered if she'd ever see him again.

At last, Ben said, "Let me at least heat some food for you. You need a full stomach to stay strong, Maggie."

She nodded, still sniffling. She listened to Ben Fraser move about in his kitchen, opening draws and cabinets. The microwave hummed and shortly beeped. She heard the door snatched open. Seconds later, Ben emerged from the kitchen with steak tips, mushrooms, and potatoes. "The remains of my birthday dinner," he commented.

Maggie gratefully took the warm plate from Ben, and wolfed down a few bites. "I'm sorry I missed it," she said around a mouthful of food. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," he smiled, then remembering something, he rose from the couch. He returned in a moment with a tall glass of cold milk. Maggie gulped it down. She finished off her food in very short order. "That hit the spot. Thank you. I.... should look into that cab now."

"You sure you won't stay until morning? A few hours sleep is better than no sleep."

"I'll sleep on the train. Really. Thank you, Ben." She handed him the empty plate. "For everything."

"It's no trouble," he said in his soft ever-calm voice. "I'll get Ray's keys, and bring the car around front for you." He rose. "I'll just get dressed. Be right out."

"I can take a cab, really."

"Maggie, I insist," he said with a tinge of exasperation.

She murmured "thanks" in capitulation. Maggie went to retrieve her bag from the bedroom. She pulled off her wig and stashed it in her tote bag. She suited up in shoulder holster and guns, and slipped into a denim jacket.

In moments, Maggie slid into the comfortable front passenger seat of Ray Vecchio's LaSabre. She knew nothing until she felt her shoulder shaken. "We're here," Ben said. He exited the car and retrieved her belongings from the trunk. Groggily, she climbed out of the car, and he led her in.

They stopped in front of the ticket agent's window. "Well, Ben Fraser, I hope our paths cross again someday," she said sincerely.

"Under happier circumstance, I hope."

"Yeah." She stuck out her hand, which Ben ignored. Instead, his arms briefly enclosed her in a firm embrace.

Ben said, "Call me, would you? Every once in a while?"

She nodded. "When the matter is settled. I'd like that."

Ben handed over her bag. "Good bye, Maggie."

"Good bye, Ben."

Ben left.

Maggie sat the bag on the floor, and fished through the front pockets for money. She realized in panic that she probably didn't have enough American currency for the ticket. Maggie glanced up to the ticket window to observe the bleary-eyed ticket agent. She had a feeling that he would be less than sympathetic.

Her hand encountered crisp linen paper. American money. She pulled it out. She could tell by the thickness alone that it was more than she knew she had. She unfolded the precisely-creased hundred dollar bills, and several twenties and fives. Folded within them was a small white square. Curious, she unfolded the paper, and read the firm, precise lettering.

Maggie, You have Dad's eyes. Ben

Maggie dropped from her knees to her bottom on the floor. She sat there in the middle of the Chicago train station, churning with mixed emotion, and wept.

Finis