stillhere           Due South belongs to Alliance, I cannot lay
claim to them. There are spoilers for a variety of third and fourth season
episodes, but they are all mixed together to show Ray's confusion.
Playground and Lean on Me belong to Madonna and Bill Withers, I am merely
borrowing them for poetic license, that kind of thing. Please do not
print/copy/download or send any part of this story to anyone else, other
than for your personal enjoyment yada.. yada.. yada. Thank you. 
         This is the final story in the three part series, Identity
Crisis. I thank Mary Ann, my Guardian Angel, and constant inspiration for
challenging me to write it as a form of therapy. I was in an accident
similar to Ray's back in January, and it has helped me a great deal more
then I could ever have imagined.  I hope you will enjoy it in the spirit
it was given. As for Ruthie...You really Butter my Muffin-Baby, yer da
greatest!  Gee, I feel like I'm at the Oscars! And now on with the
story... 
As always, Feedback is greatly encouraged. PG-HC for language and violence


By Amethyst  

I'M STILL HERE 

 
 
 
 
 
 

         Mary Ann Baker glanced out her living room window and smiled
benevolently at the site before her. Fraser and Ray had purchased some
skates and a couple of hockey sticks in town, Now they were out on the
small pond dueling over the puck. Diefenbaker was running back and forth,
choosing to remain off the ice, and barking excitedly. 
         Ray had made a full recovery from his pneumonia and had resumed
his usual energy, much to the Mounties's delight. The Bakers had watched
the two men frolic like children these past few days. Snowball fights,
skating on the pond, hockey, and wrestling with Dief. Sometimes they would
build snow structures and Fraser, ever the perfectionist, had to have his
just so. Ray would usually get aggravated and shove the Mountie into a
snow bank, or into the structure itself. Both would end up laughing. 
          They went for long walks and Fraser would point out different
types of trees and tell Ray about life in Canada. Ray in turn would tell
Fraser how much he had enjoyed hiking and fishing when he was a child, and
that he had always wanted to learn how to rock climb. Both would spend
hours poring over books in the evening, by firelight, or playing cards or
a board game with the Bakers. They were like two school-aged children that
just discovered they could be best friends and were becoming inseparable. 
         Mary Ann glanced at the large grandfather clock against the wall
and smiled. She moved to the front door, pulled it open and stepped out
onto the porch. 
         "Supper, boys!" she called to them and both men slid to a halt on
the ice. 
         "Be right there Mrs. B.!" Ray yelled back and she smiled and
returned inside. 
          She loved having them here; it was like having her own two boys
with her. She would miss them when they did finally return to Chicago. She
quickly set the table as her husband helped with the cutlery. 
         "You're getting too attached to them, honey," he commented
affectionately, although he knew that was true of him as well. "They will
be leaving soon, I imagine." 
         "I know that," Mary Ann sniffed and set the casserole on the
table. "I'm just enjoying them while they're here. There's nothing wrong
with that." 
         "We're not their family, sweetheart," he reminded as he heard the
men stamping their boots on the porch. "Eventually they'll leave just like
Fred did." 
         "Stop it!" she hissed and turned away, as Fraser and Ray entered.

         She moved into the kitchen, so they would not see the tears
sparkling in her eyes. She heard John greeting them and Ray make a comment
that caused the others to laugh. Mary Ann felt cold arms sneak around her
as the Detective bent to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 
         "What's wrong?" he asked quietly. He brought with him the smell
of fresh air and crisp snow. She smiled and turned to pat his cheek,
affectionately. 
         "Nothing's wrong, dear," she lied, and quickly changed the
subject. "I hope you and Benton are hungry." She knew he didn't believe
her denial but he stepped away and let it drop. 
         "Okay," he allowed, "but I have a secret fer ya." Her smile
widened. 
         "Something plumy?" she encouraged wickedly and he grinned. 
         "Very plumy," he agreed. She leaned closer, expectantly. 
         "Do tell," she implored and he bent to whisper in her ear. 
         "I love you," he murmured and kissed her cheek again. She blushed
in delight, as he straightened. His expression grew serious and she met
his gaze. "It's true. I mean it Mrs. B."  Her heart swelled at his words.
He had said the one thing that would make her feel better and she loved
him even more for it. She reached up for a hug and he gave it to her,
willingly. 
         "I love you, Sweetcakes," she whispered, teary eyed. "Like my
own." 
         "I know," he replied, gently. "When I do leave, I want ya to
know, I'll be back to visit and I'll write and call you as much as I can."

         "Bless you, Stanley Ray," she sniffed, caressing his cheek as
John entered the kitchen. 
         "Hey now!" he scolded grinning. "I've told you before about
flirting with my wife, young man." Ray grinned and gave Mary Ann an extra
squeeze for good measure before stepping back. 
         "I can't help myself, Mr. B.," he smiled. "She's irresistible."
Mary Ann blushed as her husband tossed his arm around her shoulders. 
         "She is that," he agreed fondly gazing down at her. She smacked
at his chest playfully. 
         "Oh! You're full of it you old coot," she teased. "Now get to the
table and I'll bring the salad." 
         "Yes'em." Both Ray and John replied and hurried out of her
kitchen. 
         They had just settled at the table when the telephone rang.
Everyone exchanged a curious glance, as John rose to answer it. 
         "Maybe it's Santa Claus," Ray teased and Fraser smiled. 
         "He comes down chimney, Ray," Fraser reminded. "He doesn't call
on the telephone." 
         "How do you know?" Ray pressed grinning. "Maybe he's deliverin'
toys over the World Wide Web dis year and dat's his modem calling. Even
Santa has to keep up with the times." 
         "If it is, then he's two weeks early, Ray," The Mountie replied. 
         "Hey, we're special," Ray opted, "and I've been a really good boy
this year..." He paused. "I think." Fraser and Mary Ann laughed, as John
returned with the portable receiver. 
         "It's for you, Benton," he stated and Fraser accepted the
instrument curiously. 
         "This is Constable Fraser," he greeted and was surprised when he
heard Welsh on the line. "Good evening, Leftenant. No, no, we were just
sitting down to dinner with the Bakers. What? Oh dear. Yes, of course. No
I'll manage. I will. Thank you for calling, Sir. Yes. Goodbye." 
         "What's goin' on Frase?" Ray inquired, concerned by his friend's
expression. He had redeveloped using the nickname on occasion, but he
stuck to calling Fraser, Ben or Benton Buddy. He almost never called him
Fraser anymore. 
         "That was Leftenant Welsh, Ray," Fraser replied worried. "I'm
afraid I'll have to return to Chicago. Elaine Besbriss had been brought up
on charges of murder and conspiracy to commit murder." 
         "What!" Ray exclaimed shocked. "No way! Look I may not remember
her but dat just doesn't wash, Ben." 
         "I agree, Ray," Fraser concurred, "as does Leftenant Welsh. He
has requested I to return and help with the investigation. It's obvious
Elaine is being framed." 
         "Then, let's go," Ray agreed and rose from the table. Fraser
stared at him startled. 
         "Ray? You...you wish to return to Chicago with me?" 
         "Yah, why not?" Ray defended. 
         "I well, not that I'm not delighted," Fraser assured, also
rising. "I only thought you would prefer to stay here." 
         "Frase, dis is Elaine we're talkin' about here," Ray insisted.
"She's a friend and you don't leave yer friend's hangin'. Screw all dat
other stuff, I'm goin'." 
         "Well, finish your meal first," Mary Ann suddenly demanded. "No
sense driving on an empty stomach. Sit down." Both men sat contritely and
did as they were told. 
  

         Later, Ray and Fraser were gathering their things into the GTO,
when the Bakers hurried out to say good bye. 
         "I made you some sandwiches and a thermos of coffee for the
trip," she told them, handing Fraser the small bag, and turning to Ray. "I
know you aren't particularly religious, Stanley Ray, but I would like it
if you would wear this." She pulled the St. Christopher's medal from
around her neck. 
         "I can't take dat, Mrs. B.," he refused gently. "It's yours." 
         "And now it's yours," she insisted. "If you want, you can return
it to me later, but I want you to wear it for now. Please it will protect
you." Ray blinked back the sudden tears in his eyes and lowered his head,
so she could fasten it around his neck. 
         "Thank you," he returned, slipping the charm inside his jacket
and shirt. She then handed him her leather bound, first edition copy of
Treasure Island.  She knew it was his favorite, from the ones he had
borrowed from her. 
         "I want you to have this too," she insisted when he started to
protest. "Now, don't you dare hurt an old woman's feelings. Take the book
or I'll beat you over the head with it." Ray grinned and took the book. 
         "I'll be back," he promised hugging her. 
         "You better be," she whispered, clinging to him. She stepped
back, wiped at her tears, and hugged Fraser, as Ray shook hands with Mr.
Baker. 
         "You two be careful now," the older man warned. "Call us when you
get the chance, let us know how you're doing." 
         "We will," Fraser promised and he held the seat forward so Dief
could climb inside. "Thank you both for taking such good care of Ray and
myself." 
         "Oh, we enjoyed having you here." John assured as he wrapped an
arm around his wife's shoulders. The men settled into the car and moments
later drove off. John glanced down at Mary Ann concerned. "You okay?" She
nodded, even as she continued to wipe at her tears. "Think they'll be
back?" 
         "I know they will," she confirmed resolutely and allowed him to
guide her back to their house. Her small fingers tightened on the silver
bracelet in her hand that Ray had slipped there during their embrace, and
she smiled brightly. 
  
  

         Ray ignored the stares he received when he and Fraser walked into
the 27th precinct the following day. They had gone to Ray's apartment, and
the Detective was touched to learn that the Mountie had been holding it
for him. It was late when they returned to Chicago, so they had both
grabbed a few hours sleep, and headed into the station later that morning.

         "Constable!" Welsh greeted, having come from the kitchen with a
coffee in his hand. "Ray! I'm...er...surprised to see you here. How are
you feeling?" 
         "I'm good, Sir," Ray assured and they followed him to the
Lieutenant's office. "I want to help in whatever way I can." 
         "Well, good," Welsh seemed pleased, as he moved behind his desk
and Fraser started to close the door. "We need all the help we can get." 
         "Exactly what has happened, Leftenant?" Fraser inquired. "You
mentioned murder. How is Elaine involved?" Welsh sighed, set his coffee on
the desk, and then dropped into his chair. 
         "Have a seat gentlemen," he suggested, frowning. "It isn't good."
Both Ray and Fraser settled in the chairs opposite the desk. Welsh
continued, keeping his tone clear and free of inflection, he related the
facts, as he knew them. "We have two versions of the same story and both
are in contradiction to one another. I'll start with Elaine's report
first." He cleared his throat and took a swig of his coffee before
continuing. "Officer Besbriss and Officer Clark were on a routine patrol.
They had stopped to grab a coffee and while Besbriss was out of the
cruiser, Clark claimed to have received a call, on the radio, about a B &
E goin' on at a jewelry store on Michigan Avenue. Since that was only a
block down from where they were, they responded.  Officer Besbriss went
through the alley, behind the jewelry store, to cover the back while Clark
took the front." 
         "I don't like where dis is goin'," Ray muttered suddenly and
Welsh's expression confirmed his fear. 
         "Officer Besbriss then entered the store through, an unlocked
door, and claimed to have heard gun shots. She drew her weapon and
identified herself. She said she didn't see Clark but that someone from
the shadows fired at her. Besbriss returned fire and a moment later the
suspect fell forward, two bullets in his chest. He died at the scene." 
         "That sounds like self, defense not murder," Fraser commented and
Welsh nodded. 
         "According to Elaine it was," he confirmed. "However, Clark's
version was different." 
         "How different?" Ray demanded and Welsh's scowl increased, as he
leaned back in his chair. 
         "Clark claims that, yes they had stopped for a coffee, but that
he never received such a call. He said Officer Besbriss returned to the
cruiser, without the coffee, and was acting irrationally." Welsh
continued, in that same monotone he had used when relating Elaine's
version. Ray understood the Lieutenant was trying to remain impartial.
"Clark's story is alleging that Besbriss claimed to see suspicious
activity going on at the store on her way into the deli. She returned,
immediately to the cruiser, reported the scene to Clark, who concurred
that it could be a it might be a break-in. Clark suggested backup and
Besberis allegedly told him there wasn't time." 
         "That certainly doesn't sound like Elaine," Fraser remarked
frowning. 
         "Certainly, not the Elaine we know," Welsh agreed. "However,
Clark alleges Besbriss had been acting strangely for a couple of weeks and
she wouldn't talk to him about it." Welsh took a long swallow of his
coffee before continuing. "Anyway, Officer Besbriss went around the back
to sneak in, and told Clark to give her three minutes before he went in.
Clark waited, heard the gunshots, and entered. He found her standing over
the man's body with her gun drawn. Officer Besbriss claimed the man fired
at her but Clark searched the area and could find no sign of the weapon,
or additional shell casings. This was confirmed by the forensics team when
they arrived on site." 
         "Dat's not good is it?" Ray asked and Welsh shook his head. "So,
Clark's lyin'. He gotta be. Elaine wouldn't kill someone in cold blood." 
         "Has anyone questioned Officer Clark, or asked if there were any
witnesses?" Fraser inquired and Welsh nodded. 
         "There were no other witnesses, so it's his word against hers,"
he stated. "However, that's only the beginning." Ray frowned. 
         "What else?" 
         "Turns out that one of the reasons Elaine was acting strangely
was because, allegedly, a guy named Mike Dawson was stalking her," Welsh
stated grimly. 
         "What's dat got to do with..." Ray began and Welsh continued. 
         "Mike Dawson was the man dat was killed," he informed and watched
shock rise in the expressions of the other two men. 
         "So...they think Elaine set out to deliberately shoot him?"
Fraser theorized and Welsh nodded. 
         "IA is trying to sort through it with an investigation and decide
what really happened.  Meanwhile, Elaine's been suspended, pending their
findings." he explained. "The scenario they're pushing fer is dat Elaine
was in love with dis Dawson guy and dat she was the one stalking him.
Dawson was married with two kids and a pillar of the community. They're
charging dat Elaine saw Dawson go into the store, which he actually owned,
and saw a chance to kill him." 
         "What do they base dat on?" Ray demanded. 
         "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Fraser muttered,
disturbed. 
         "Correct, Constable," Welsh agreed. "They think she killed him
out of a jealous rage because he wouldn't leave his wife." 
         "What does Elaine say?" Ray inquired. 
         "She claims she had two dates with Dawson and the guy was
creepy," Welsh informed. "However, he kept calling her and showing up on
her patrol route. Leaving her flowers and gifts at home and on her desk at
work. She says she didn't know he was married and she kept telling him to
leave her alone. She didn't know he owned a jewelry store." 
         "Did she inform her superior of the man's behavior?" Fraser asked
and Welsh shook his head. 
         "Elaine knows the score," he sighed. "Since Dawson never
physically threatened her or made any kind of advances on her, she
couldn't charge him with stalking. She didn't tell anyone because, she
said, she felt stupid for letting this man get the better of her and for
falling into this trap in the first place. She allegedly warned Dawson she
was set to file harassment charges on him when dis happened." 
         "What can we do to help, Leftenant?" Fraser inquired. 
         "Well, officially, we've been told to keep out of it," Welsh
stated with his usual finesse. "However, since you, Constable, are not
bound by our jurisdiction, you could do some investigating on your own,
should you choose to do so, as a close personal friend of Officer
Besbriss'. I know if anyone can get to the bottom of this you two can."
Welsh had automatically included Ray, then recalled that the Detective no
longer remembered how to be a cop. Fraser let the comment slide. 
         "Ah, understood, Leftenant," Fraser agreed and Ray glanced at
both of them. 
         "Um...what can I do, Sir?" he asked, hesitantly. He wanted to
help, but didn't know what he could do. 
         "Hmm, well, Kowalski, I don't know," he admitted. "Officially yer
still a cop, but since you don't remember..." 
         "I could...I could just go with Ben, though, right?" Ray
interrupted and missed Welsh's startled look at him using Fraser's first
name. "I...I'll stay out of the way and...um...un...unofficially I'm a
friend too, so I could...help." 
         "I think that would be a fine idea, Ray," Fraser concoured and
Ray offered him a grateful look. "We are partners after all." He looked at
Welsh. "Would that be acceptable, Leftenant?" Welsh was grinning, so
delighted to see the pair willing to work together again that he did not
hear the question. 
         "Sorry, Constable, what?" he asked and Fraser repeated his
question. "Sure, sure. Just be careful not to get Ray killed or anything,"
Fraser smiled; knowing the older man was teasing. 
         "I'll do my best, Sir," he assured as they rose. Welsh stood as
well and handed them some papers. 
         "This is all the 'unofficial' information I can give you," he
grinned. "Elaine is probably at home, she's been suspended and the press
have been having a field day." 
         "Thank you kindly, Leftenant," Fraser returned and shook his hand
as Ray peered over the Mounties's shoulder at the papers, before Fraser
slid them into his jacket. 
         "Kowalski," Welsh pulled open a drawer in his desk and tossed Ray
his police badge and identification. "Just in case anyone asks, you might
need this." Ray grinned and caught the items, caught the items, looking at
them for a moment and noting the name "Vecchio" on the badge, before
setting them inside the pocket of his brown, winter raglan. 
         "Yah, thanks, Lieu," he returned offering his hand to Welsh as
well. He missed the startled exchange between his superior and Fraser, and
quickly moved toward the door.  "Com'ahn, Benton Buddy. Let's go catch
some bad guys." 
         "You do that, Kowalski," Welsh smiled after they had left,
tickled that the Detective had addressed him with that particular
nickname. This Ray usually him Lieu, Vecchio had once or twice, but
Kowalski was more liberal with it. He wondered if the blond even realized
he had said it. It didn't matter; Welsh was pleased Kowalski seemed to be
getting a little piece of the old him back. 
  
  

         Elaine opened her door and her haggard expression became one of
joy and relief, as she threw her arms around both men simultaneously. 
         "I knew you'd come," she whispered, gratefully, then quickly
stepped back inside her apartment to allow them entry. She smiled at Ray.
"I'm so glad you're here. You look great. How do you feel?" 
         "I'm good, Elaine," Ray assured as she led them into the spacious
living area of her loft. "I'm more worried about you." She dismissed his
comment with a wave of her hand. 
         "Oh, I'll be okay, this will all work out," she assured as she
knelt and gave Dief a good rub. "This sort of thing happens all the time
in police work. It'll be okay, really." She rose. "Can I get you guys a
drink? I have wine, soda, water, juice, tea?" 
         "Um...sure, whatever ya have, Elaine," Ray agreed, as he and
Fraser exchanged a cautious glance. Despite the woman's bravado, they
could sense her inner turmoil. She was scared, very scared. 
         "Tea would be delightful, Elaine," Fraser confirmed and she moved
to the kitchen, grateful for something to do. She found some left over
ribs in the fridge and gave them to Dief in the kitchen, then returned to
the living room with their drinks. 
         "You guys want something to eat?" she offered, politely. Ray had
started peering through Elaine's wide assortment of CD's and Fraser
settled on the comfortable, leather, sofa. Both shook their heads. Elaine
seemed unable to sit so she hovered near the Detective as he selected a CD
and she showed him how to open the player. 
         "So tell me, Ray," she encouraged, obviously not quite up to
talking about her situation yet. "How was your little vacation? Have you
remembered anything else? Figured out what you want to do?" 
         "Good," he replied, leaning down to find the selection he wanted.
"Some, but right now I wanna dance." Elaine was startled when he pulled
her into his arms and started waltzing her about the room to the slow
moody threads Lean On Me filled the room.  

Sometimes in our lives we all have pain 
We all have sorrow 
But if we are wise 
We know that there's always tomorrow 

Lean on me, when you're not strong 
And I'll be your friend 
I'll help you carry on 
For it won't be long 
'Til I'm gonna need 
Somebody to lean on 

         Elaine rested her head on Ray's shoulder, her body automatically
following his lead. His gesture had been unexpected but now she welcomed
it. She played with the back of his hair, which seemed longer than usual,
using the hand Ray wasn't holding.  

Please swallow your pride 
If I have things you need to borrow 
For no one can fill those of your needs 
That you don't let show 

Lean on me, when you're not strong 
And I'll be your friend 
I'll help you carry on 
For it won't be long 
'Til I'm gonna need 
Somebody to lean on 

If there is a load you have to bear 
That you can't carry 
I'm right up the road 
I'll share your load 
If you just call me 

         Fraser met Ray's gaze over Elaine's head and nodded. He rose,
used his hands to indicate that he would run out and pick up some food, to
give them a few minutes alone. Ray nodded and continued to guide Elaine
smoothly about the room, without missing a step.  

So just call on me brother, when you need a hand 
We all need somebody to lean on 
I just might have a problem that you'd understand 
We all need somebody to lean on 

Lean on me when you're not strong 
And I'll be your friend 
I'll help you carry on 
For it won't be long 
Till I'm gonna need 
Somebody to lean on 

Lean on me... 

         The song ended, but Ray sensed Elaine wasn't quite ready to stop,
so they continued to dance through the next one as well. He continued to
hold her close, their bodies moving in harmony to the rhythm of the music.
They were half way through the third song when Ray noticed she was
trembling and he stopped to look down at her. 
         "You okay?" he asked softly and when she raised tear filled eyes
toward him he had his answer. 
 He pulled her closer and just held her, rocking her side to side with
their feet remaining stationary, as she cried into his shirt. Finally,
after another few minutes, he pulled back again and caught her under the
chin with his free hand, forcing her to meet his gaze again. 
         "Ya gonna stop bein' so brave now and tell us what's goin' on?"
he smirked affectionately and she released a shaky laugh, as she wiped at
her tears. Ray spotted the box of tissues on one of the end tables and
moved to retrieve them for her. 
         "I'm sorry," she sniffed, dropping defeated onto the sofa and
blowing her nose with one of the tissues. "I don't know why I even
tried..." she shook her head. "I just can't believe this is happening. It
hasn't been my year y'know?" Ray grinned and settled beside her. 
         "Oh yah," he agreed and she smiled, realizing that his had been
no better. "It's definitely been a Christ year." 
         "Christ year?" she inquired curiously. 
         "Yah, all ya keep sayin' is 'Oh Christ, what now?' " he teased
and she laughed, then glanced around thoughtfully. 
         "Where did Fraser go?" 
         "He stepped out to give us a little privacy," Ray replied
honestly. "He'll be back in a minute or two." She shook her head ruefully.

         "I didn't mean to chase him away but I..." she paused. "Thank
you. I didn't want him to see..." 
         "I know," Ray finished for her. "I didn't want him to see me
losing it either. One of the reasons I left.     But, Ben's been good.
He's got a lot a patience and understanding fer dat kind of stuff." 
         "I know he feels uncomfortable around emotional displays," she
commented and Ray chuckled. 
         "I think that only counts when they're his own," he supplied and
she laughed. That was certainly true enough. "He's good with other people
crackin' up in front of him. Trust me, I know dis from personal
experience." 
         "Have you been cracking up, Ray?" she teased and he grinned. 
         "No more den usual, I suspect," he replied making her smile
again. 
         "Why are you even here, Ray?" she asked suddenly. "It can't be
easy for you being back. Have you seen your folks?" Ray lowered his eyes
for a moment, then shook his head. 
         "Not here fer my folks," he denied. Elaine frowned. 
         "Stella?" 
         "Definitely didn't come back fer her," he muttered and Elaine was
puzzled at his anger. He dispelled it quickly and smiled at her.
"Lieutenant Welsh called Fraser about what happened." He tapped her on the
nose. "Really think I wouldn't come back with him when I heard?" 
         "Then...you came back for me?" she confirmed, shocked. "Oh Ray,
you shouldn't have done that. What if you aren't ready, you have enough on
your plate without..." 
          Ray placed a hand over her mouth to halt her protests and pulled
a card out of his pocket. Her eyes widened slightly when she recognized it
as the one she had given him weeks ago outside the restaurant. 
         "I felt the need to make some new memories," he replied softly
and again Elaine felt fresh tears sting her eyes. 
         She was rarely this emotional, but it had been a stressful week.
She was already acting irrationally, so she just went with the flow and
did what her impulses demanded. She was so touched that he had kept the
card and had even thought to bring it with him, that she caught his face
between both of her hands and pulled him forward to meet her lips. The
kiss was sweet, tender, and non-intrusive and spoke of only her
appreciation and nothing more. Ray smiled shyly and lowered his eyes once
she released him. He let lose a whistle of amazement, and slid his hand
forward in a take off motion 
         "Um...okay, dat's a good memory, fer sure," he admitted and she
laughed and threw her arms around him for a quick hug. 
         She liked this Ray as much as she liked the old Ray, perhaps more
so. This Ray allowed her to show her affection openly and didn't seem to
expect anything further. The old Ray she knew would have had her picking
out rings after such a display. They both parted as the apartment door
opened and Fraser made a quiet sound of impatience. 
         "Aren't you finished flirting with her yet, Ray?" he teased.
Elaine giggled and gasped in shock when Ray gave Fraser the finger.
Apparently, he had done it at least once before because the Mountie
appeared unruffled. He closed the door and set the pizza carton on the
counter close to him. 
         "Ray has developed some interesting new ways of expressing
himself, Elaine," Fraser explained as she rose to collect some plates and
napkins. "But don't worry, I feel assured he and Dief will be reaching
maturity very soon." 
         "Bite me, Mountie!" Ray called from his slouched position on the
sofa and Elaine shook her head smiling. Dief had jumped up next to Ray and
started kissing him. Ray made a face and pushed him away. "I said bite not
lick and I wasn't talkin' to you, ya furball." 
         "Charming as always, Ray, my friend," Fraser replied, walking
over and offering Ray a plate of pizza. 
 Ray grinned, accepted the food, and moved over on the sofa to make room
for him. Fraser waited until Elaine had settled in the opposite chair with
her own plate and drink, before he took his place beside his partner. 
         "We spoke with Leftenant Welsh, Elaine," Fraser stated and she
nodded. "He informed us of the investigation, due to the conflicting
stories of you and your partner. Would you care to tell us what really
happened?" 
         "Yuf," Ray agreed around his mouthful of pizza, then quickly
chewed and swallowed. "I mean yah, what's up with dis Dawson guy?" Elaine
sighed and curled her feet up under her in the wide chair. 
         "I met him about three weeks ago, on patrol," she explained
regretfully. "Someone introduced us, but I can't remember who. He seemed
nice and asked me out. At first I said no, I was on duty, it didn't look
right, y'know? I certainly didn't know he was married, he didn't even wear
a ring." Fraser nodded. "Anyway, he somehow found out my name and where I
worked and he showed up one day and asked them where he could find me. One
of the operators at the precinct gave him my patrol route and he drove
around until he found me, then asked me to lunch. So, I said okay. I mean,
I was flattered that he went to so much trouble to seek me out, y'know?" 
         "So when did ya realize he was a creep?" Ray inquired, finishing
off his first piece and rising to get another. 
         "Well, lunch went well, he was very charming and funny," Elaine
sighed as Ray returned with the pie box and set it on the table between
them. "Then he asked me to dinner so I said yes." She watched Ray slide a
fresh piece of pizza on his plate then offer one to Fraser. She was only
half way finished with her slice, so she waved off the slice he offered
her. "Anyway, during dinner he kept complimenting me and telling me how
wonderful I was and that it was kismet, or something, that we met." 
         "Oh dat ol' line!" Ray rolled his eyes. "Dat won't even get you
to first base with a woman." Fraser smirked. 
         "Like you would know," he taunted and Elaine stared at him
surprised. 
          How could he tease Ray about not remembering and bring up Stella
in one breath? It was no secret that she was probably Ray's one and only
and it was cruel of Fraser to mention that.  She was more surprised when
Ray grinned and elbowed him. 
         "Big talk from the Calendar Boy of the Celibacy movement," Ray
retorted and Fraser smiled and blushed, lowering his eyes. Ray grinned.
"Didn't think I knew dat word did, ya huh?" 
         "You are a constant source of surprise, Ray," Fraser admitted,
fondly. 
 Elaine regarded them curiously, obviously they had both grown much
closer, but in a different way then before. Ray seemed much more open to
shocking people and Fraser seemed to delight in provoking his friend to do
so. 
         "I..." she gaped at them for a moment before regaining her
composure. 
         "Com'ahn, Elaine," Ray encouraged. "Before we die of waitin',
here." She smiled and continued. 
         "Well, the way Dawson was talking, at first it was faltering,
then it was bordering on..." she searched for the right word. 
         "Obsessive?" Fraser offered and she nodded gratefully. 
         "Exactly," she confirmed. "Anyway, I ended the date as soon as
proper etiquette would allow and he drove me home. He didn't try anything,
which rather surprised me, but he did try to get my promise to see him for
lunch the following day. I told him I would be working through lunch and
he suggested dinner. I told him I'd call him." 
         "Which you didn't," Ray reflected and she nodded. 
         "But he did call me, several times a day both at work and leaving
messages on my phone," she stated. "At first I just erased the messages. A
few times I answered the phone and told him straight out I wasn't
interested and to stop calling." She sighed. "That was when the gifts
started. Again I started throwing them away but he wouldn't stop leaving
them and he wouldn't stop calling me." 
         "Why didn't you tell anyone?' Fraser inquired curiously. 
         "Well, at first I really thought the guy was just being
persistent," she answered honestly. "I've had a few of those and they
usually took the hint after a week or so. However, Dawson didn't, if
anything he got worse. I know how the system works, Fraser. The gifts were
non-threatening, not even sexually suggestive. Sometimes it was flowers,
or candy, little trinkets, jewelry or an assortment of fruit. They weren't
evidence that the man was planning anything nefarious, just that he
was...well...thoughtful." 
         "Great," Ray muttered scowling. "He's not a dangerous psychopath,
just a considerate one." He shook his head. "You should've taken out yer
gun and shot him, Elaine." She smirked. 
         "According to IA I did, Ray," she reminded and he was immediately
repentant. 
         "I...I didn't mean it like dat...I..." he stammered remorsefully
and she chuckled and waved away his apology. 
         "It's okay," she assured. "I know you didn't mean it that way."
Ray seemed relieved with her forgiveness, but he still held the look of
contrition. 
         "What about the phone calls, Elaine?" Fraser inquired. "Did you
save the tapes?" She nodded. 
          "Yes, but the messages on the answering machine were the same,
just cheerful notes, no threats or anything," she remarked. " He'd ask me
how my day was, when we might get together again, say he was thinking
about me and to give him a call." 
         "What about when you answered the telephone?" Fraser questioned.
"Did his attitude change?" she shrugged. 
         "He was more insistent and claimed he couldn't live without me,"
she explained. He was adamant that I give him another chance, saying that
he had to see me. The usual crap. A few times he came close to making a
threat, but he never crossed that line." Fraser frowned and nodded. 
         "Did you ever feel your life was in danger, Elaine?" he asked and
again she shrugged. 
         "I was starting to, yes," she admitted. "He was getting out of
control I think. He started showing up on my patrol route all the time. If
I went out for a drink with friends, he'd show up and try to talk to me.
Usually I ended up leaving. He would call at all hours of the night and
day when I was home and I know he was watching my apartment and had been
in my apartment." 
         "Why didn't you get him on breaking and entering?" Ray
questioned. 
         "Because, I had no proof," she replied with a hint of anger in
her voice. "I don't know how he was getting in because the door and
windows hadn't been forced." 
         "Then, how did you know he was here?" Ray continued. 
         "The occurrences were blatant enough for me to notice, but not
enough for me to have them investigated. I mean, someone could easily say
I did some of the things myself," she explained. 
         "What sort if occurrences?" Fraser inquired. 
  "Little packages left for me on the table," Elaine explained. "Things
that were moved out of place so only I would notice." Ray seemed posed to
ask another question and Fraser interceded. 
         "If there was no sign of an intruder and nothing was taken or
broken, the police tend to dismiss foul play, Ray," he explained and Ray
nodded, as he finally understood, frowneding 
         "Dat's pretty stupid, Ben," he commented and Elaine chuckled. "I
thought cops were supposed to be smart? What about protectin' the good
guys?" 
         "It seems to be more about politics than justice, anymore Ray,"
he sighed. "Departments worry about infringing on a person's civil rights.
Without solid, physical proof, that would be setting themselves up for a
possible lawsuit for harassment or wrongful arrest." 
         "Are you tellin' me," Ray began concerned, "Dat the cops won't
arrest someone they suspect of committing a crime?" 
         "Not without hard evidence, Ray," Elaine supplied grimly. It felt
strange talking to the Detective about the law that he used to know so
well. "Nowadays, the lawyers can charge an officer with violating a
person's rights if they try to even question someone without literally
having their hands on the smoking gun." 
         "What about the people dis guy supposedly robbed or killed?" Ray
demanded angrily. "Who protects them? What about how he violated their
rights?" 
         "Unfortunately the victims get placed on the back burner," Elaine
sighed. "The criminals get rich lawyers to defend them." 
          "Dat sounds like the crooks have more rights den the victims!"
Ray charged and she nodded. 
         "It's not perfect, Ray," she agreed. "It's not always fair, but
it's the system we have and we have to make do." Ray bolted from his chair
and started to pace. Fraser and Elaine were startled at the passion the
conversation seemed to evoke in their friend. 
         "Dat's messed up," he declared. "Of all the stupid, immoral,
useless..."  

"Confer with you"?! What is that, what kind of talk is that? 'Confer' with
yer 
own suit, ya federal jackass. That guy sucks." 
"Well, you know, Ray, he's probably got reasons for privacy. I mean, after
all, 
we were the cause of the problem." 
"Well maybe we made a mistake, maybe we didn't. But one thing I know - I
hate 
when someone tells me to go to my room, not when I'm in the middle of
something." 

         "Ray. Ray. Ray?" Fraser tried again, reaching out to physically
touch his partner, who suddenly seemed in some kind of limbo. "Ray!" 
         "What?" he asked, glancing at Fraser, as if seeing him for the
first time. 
         "Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser inquired. "You looked far away."

         "Would you like to lie down, Ray?" Elaine suggested, rising to
her feet, concerned. "You could use my bedroom and..." She was startled
when he turned on her. 
         "Don't do that!" he warned. "I hate people sendin' me to my room.
Why can't I hear what ya have to say? What's the problem here? I want to
help too." 
         "All...alright, Ray," Elaine agreed holding her hands up
defensively, surprised by his sudden vehemence. "I only thought you might
like to rest. I'm not hiding anything from you." Ray shook his head and
turned away for a minute to compose himself. He ran his hand through his
hair and rubbed his knuckles down the side of his face. 
         "I'm sorry, Elaine," he offered quietly and settled back down on
the sofa. Elaine noticed his fingers fidgeting with the chain around his
neck. She watched him pull the St. Christopher's medal from beneath the
collar of his shirt. "I don't know why I snapped at ya, I'm sorry."
Fraser's hand immediately started to rub Ray's back, comfortingly. Ray
leaned forward, with his head in his hands, and encouraged the reassuring
gesture. 
         "Do you need some aspirin, Ray?" he offered gently, but Ray shook
his head. "Are you sure?" Ray smirked, as he reverently caressed the charm
between his fingers. 
         "Yes Mum, I'm sure," he retorted and sat back against the
cushions, patting Fraser's thigh appreciatively. "I'm good, Ben, really." 
         Elaine watched the friendly exchange curiously; noticing that
Fraser had lost some of his rigidity. He seemed more affectionate and
didn't seem to be so uncomfortable at being touched, at least with Ray.
She wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Ray was calling
his partner Ben now. 
         She decided to dismiss further speculation before her imagination
ran away with her. All she really cared about was that the two men seemed
to have repaired whatever differences they had, and they seemed more
comfortable together. She settled back in her own chair and continued to
relate her tale. 
          "I knew that I couldn't get a restraining order against him
unless I thought my life was in danger and frankly he seemed more annoying
then dangerous." 
         "What about Clark's version of the story?" Ray asked, his tone
changing slightly to something more familiar. "He said you were the one
dat made the call to go to the store." She shook her head. 
         "I don't know why he said that," she returned worried. "Joe has
been a good partner, a little eccentric, but a great guy. He told me the
call came over the radio." 
         "Did you check with dispatch?" Fraser inquired and she nodded. 
         "They claim no such call was issued, which backs up Joe's story,"
she replied. "But he did tell me that it came in, why else would I even go
to that store?" 
         "According to Leftenant Welsh they are assuming you went there to
kill Dawson," Fraser stated and she nodded. 
         "Look, Dawson was a weasel and a pain in the ass for me, but I
didn't want to kill him." 
         "Any reason why your partner would lie?" Fraser asked and she
shook her head. 
         "No, and he feels so badly about what's happened, but he keeps
saying he's telling the truth," She admitted quietly. "I don't know what
to do guys." 
         "Don't worry, Elaine," Ray assured. "I don't know what I'm doin'
but Ben does, don't ya buddy?" Fraser smiled. 
         "I am sure we can find the truth and clear up this
misunderstanding, Elaine," He offered and she smiled at them gratefully. 
  
  

         Ray slipped beneath the yellow police tape and used his credit
card to jimmy the lock on the back door of the jewelry store. 
         "This is technically breaking and entering, Ray," Fraser
whispered, even as he joined his partner inside. 
         "So?" Ray asked grinning. "If we get caught I'll say the Mountie
made me do it." Fraser's lips twitched and he quickly pulled them into a
disapproving scowl, as Ray proceeded to look around the darkened area of
the store with his flashlight. There were no windows back here, and it was
obviously some sort of office or store room. 
         "Where did you learn to open a door like that, Ray?" Fraser
inquired as he also began to investigate the premises, being careful not
to disturb the chalk outline on the floor, where Dawson died. He had
assumed Ray learned it at the academy. "You never have told me." Ray
shrugged. 
         "I used to like to break into the high school at night," Ray
admitted and found a small corner lamp to switch on to give them added
light. He chuckled at Fraser's appalled expression to his confession.
"What? I didn't trash it or anything." 
         "Why did you break in, then Ray?" Fraser pressed, as he surveyed
the walls closest to the crime scene, looking for additional bullet holes.
Ray shrugged sheepishly. 
         "No reason, just bein' stupid," he evaded, as he glanced through
the drawers of the desk. 
         He didn't really know what they were looking for, but Fraser had
said they needed proof that Dawson was the one stalking Elaine and not the
other way around. Since they learned that Dawson was married, he doubted
the man made the calls to Elaine from his home. 
         "I told you about the incident with the gas can and boomerang,
Ray," Fraser reminded and Ray grinned. "Fair is fair." 
         "Pushy, pushy," Ray replied as he knelt and checked under the
desk. Again he wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was driven by an
instinct he couldn't explain. "It was just, stupid. Like I said." Fraser
made a dissatisfied noise and Ray sighed as his fingers explored the
underside of the desk. "Well, remember I told ya I wanted ta be a teacher?
Well, I used to sneak in and pretend ta teach a class. I'd write stuff on
the blackboards and give homework assignments to a pretend class, stupid
stuff like dat." 
         "I don't think that is stupid at all, Ray," Fraser remarked, as
he moved to the adjacent wall. "There is nothing wrong with looking
forward to a chosen career, I imagine your teachers would have been
flattered, however I think breaking and entering would have been frowned
upon." 
         A noise toward the front of the store, a little bell jingling
over the door, alerted them that they were no longer alone. Ray knocked
his head against the desk trying to get out, as Fraser moved to switch off
the lamp. 
         "Stay there, Ray," He whispered, as the room was plunged into
darkness once more. 
         The Detective crawled back under the desk; glad it was reasonably
spacious and could accommodate his long legs easily. He held his breath,
as the lights came on once more and two people entered the back room.
Ray's heart was in his throat and he tried not to move or make a sound as
a pair of size twelve black boots appeared right next to the desk, joined
by a pair of woman's high heels. 
         "Are you sure it's still here?" The woman demanded, agitated.
"The cops have been all over this place. What if they found it?" 
         "They wouldn't even be looking for it," The man determined and
Ray could hear the desk drawer being opened and closed and things shuffled
around above him. "It's got to be here." 
         Ray started to shake his head as a familiar scene started to
prick at his consciousness.  Not now! He didn't want to zone out, he
wanted to hear what they were looking for. Suddenly, he was in a Mountie
suit, hanging from the rafters in some kind of warehouse.  

"Hide!" 
"Search every inch! Come on! Over here! Check those stairs! Go up the
stairwell! Over here! See if somebody can find a light! Let's go! Two guys
in red suits, people, how hard can it be?" 
"You all right?" 
"Good." 
"You sure?" 
"Pants are itchy." 
"Yeah. . . You know, I once spent 13 hours hanging like this underneath a
suspension bridge with a mountain cat swiping at me from above. He tore my
lanyard, ripped my epaulette, oh. . ." 
"And what happened?" 
"Well, fortunately the nuns at Fort Mcleod practiced invisible mending. .
. Shh-shh-shh." 
"The place is clean." 
"All right, let's get out of here." 
"I knew you could do it!" 
"Thank you." 

         "Hurry up!" the woman's voice insisted, bringing Ray back to the
present. He leaned closer, careful not to make any noise. 
         His gaze traveled, idly, from the woman's small silver anklet and
further up the shapely calf. Not bad, not as nice as Stella's, but not
bad, he surmised silently. The man was wearing just regular boots, as far
as Ray could tell, steel toed, black; nicely polished and dark pants. 
         "Got it!" the man suddenly growled and Ray flinched when
something slammed onto the top of the desk. Ray heard a noise that sounded
like paper tearing then the light dimmed and the two left the room. 
         "Ray?" Fraser's voice called out a few minutes later and the room
brightened again, as Ray started to crawl out from under the desk. Again
he hit his head and this time something above him popped open. 
         "Hey, Ben, look at dis!" he whispered excitedly and the Mountie
knelt beside him. It was a secret compartment, just about two fingers
wide, and it held a little micro cassette tape. 
         "Excellent work, Ray," Fraser encouraged, also excited, as they
retrieved the tape and he helped Ray to his feet. 
         "Dat's usin' my head, hey?" Ray grinned and Fraser smiled. "Did
ya see who dey were?" 
         "I regret that the only place I could find to hide was in the
closet, Ray," Fraser returned displeased. "I did not see them. Did you?" 
         "Saw their feet, that's about it," Ray admitted, also
disappointed, as he glanced at the desk. He saw the note pad lying there
and a light bulb went off in his head. "I wonder..." He grabbed the pad
and a pencil from the cup on the corner of he desk. 
         "What is it, Ray?" Fraser asked as the Detective started lightly
rubbing the paper with the lead. 
         "Just a hunch, Fraser," Ray returned, intent on what he was
doing. Soon words began to form and the two men exchanged a meaningful
glance. 
         "Let's get out of here, Ray," The Mountie suggested as his
partner tore off the slip of paper and placed it in his pocket. 
         Once outside, Ray started to laugh as they slipped into the GTO,
where Dief was waiting. Fraser smiled and regarded him curiously as Ray
pulled into the street. 
         "What is so funny, Ray?" 
         "Dat was so cool!" he giggled and Fraser's smile widened. "My
heart was in my throat and I thought I was gonna piss myself! I thought
dey were gonna find me, but it was...It was scary but kinda exciting too.
What a way ta live! Is dat what it's like to be a cop, Ben?" 
         "Sometimes, Ray," Fraser admitted, delighted at his friend's
enthusiasm. "Sometimes." 
  
  

         At Elaine's apartment, later that morning, they listened to the
tape and were surprised to find that it was a recording of Elaine's voice.
Obviously Dawson had taped their conversations and saved anything the
female officer had said during their calls. 
         "Dis is evidence, right?" Ray suggested. "It proves he was
callin' ya and harassing ya."  Elaine and Fraser exchanged a worried look.
"What?" 
         "All it proves is that I was in contact with him, Ray," She
replied regretfully. "And we can't use it as evidence because you and
Fraser obtained it illegally. They won't let it be admitted as evidence."
Ray swore. 
         "God damnit! What do we have to do here?" 
         "We just have to keep looking, Ray," Fraser offered. "I am sure
we'll find some evidence we can use." 
          "What about the note on the paper?" Elaine asked. "It's
obviously important to someone or they wouldn't have come looking for it."

         "It's fer an appointment tomorrow," Ray sighed, dropping into the
closest chair. "I don't see what it has to do wit you." 
         "Perhaps we should keep this appointment, Ray," Fraser suggested.
"See who shows up?" Ray nodded. 
         "Yah, but dat's not until tomorrow, what do we do until den?" 
         "Talk to Dawson's widow?" Fraser suggested. "Perhaps, see if she
suspected her husband was seeing other women." 
         "Then, let's go do dat," Ray agreed and rose to collect his
jacket. "Den we'll have a convo with Clark; somethin' about his statement
doesn't ring true." 
         "I don't know if you guys should do that," Elaine cautioned as
she walked them to the door. "If IA gets wind of it..." 
         "Let me deal with the suits, Elaine," Ray determined and Elaine
was taken aback by his sudden remark. "You try to think of anything else
about that day dat might help us figure out what's really going on." 
         "Let me come with you at least?" she suggested. "Joe might be
more cooperative with me there." Fraser nodded and retrieved her coat for
her. 
  
  

         They stopped at the 2-7 first, because when Fraser had called to
check in with the Lieutenant, Welsh had requested an audience with them.
They headed toward the Lieutenant's office, as Stella Kowalski exited one
of the interview rooms. She saw Ray and her whole face brightened as she
moved toward him. 
         "Ray!" she exclaimed in delight, throwing her arms around him and
giving him a big hug. She was startled when he didn't return her
affection, but instead pulled away from her. 
         "Stella," He returned curtly and she frowned. 
         "When...when did you get back?" she asked, disconcerted by his
coolness. "Have you seen Mom and Dad yet? How have you been?" 
         "Look, I can't talk now," he insisted and started to move away.
"I got stuff to do." 
         "Ray!" she called after him. He paused in mid stride and waited
for her to catch up with him again. "Do you...have you remembered
anything, Ray?" His eyes narrowed on her and she took a step back alarmed.

         "Oh yah, Stella," he growled, keeping his voice low. "I remember
why we're no longer married." Stella gasped. "How could ya do it, Stell?
How could you betray me like dat? I loved you so much; maybe more den ya
deserved. But I learned my lesson, I won't make dat mistake again." 
         "Ray I...I don't understand..." she stammered confused.
"What...what do you think I did? W...whatever it is I..." 
         "It doesn't matter, Stella," he declared and waved his left hand
at her pointedly. "Ya can't hurt me anymore. I'm a free man and I intend
to stay dat way. Now do us both a favor and leave me the hell alone!" 
         Fraser and Elaine gaped at their friend, having witnessed the
exchange, as Ray brushed past them and strode toward Welsh's office.
Stella Kowalski was doing her best to maintain her composure, but her eyes
were suspiciously moist and her hands were trembling as she smoothed out
her skirt. She turned on her heel, after glaring at Fraser accusingly, and
stormed off. 
         Fraser and Elaine quickly followed Kowalski into Welsh's office,
where Ray was already informing the Lieutenant of what they had found.
Welsh did not ask where they found the cassette and Ray didn't volunteer
that information. 
         "What did you need to see us about, Leftenant?" 
         "We have another little problem, gentlemen," the Lieutenant
sighed, then included Elaine. "And lady." She smiled as he settling into
his chair. Ray perched on the corner of his desk and played with one of
the pens. "Seems Mrs. Dawson is bringing a wrongful death lawsuit against
Elaine for the death of her husband." 
         "Oh great!" Elaine threw her arms up and dropped down on the
sofa. "What next?" A knock at the door prevented Welsh from answering her,
and they all glanced over as Francesca Vecchio entered with Stella
Kowalski. 
         "Ray!" Francesca exclaimed and went to hug him. Kowalski didn't
move from his perch, but accepted the hug. His gaze met Stella's and she
was the first to look away. 
         "Hi, Frannie," he smiled at her, still very much aware of his
ex-wife's presence. "When ya gonna cook dat dinner fer me?" Francesca
brightened. 
         "You name the day and I'll be there, bro," she assured smiling as
Welsh cleared his throat. 
         "Is there a reason you came in here, Miss. Vecchio?" he demanded
and she glanced at him perplexed, before she remembered the file in her
hand. 
         "Yah, here's the file you wanted," she offered absently, dropping
the file on his desk and turning her attention back to Kowalski. She
folded her fingers into hair that was noticeably longer than Ray's usual
style. "I like this, ya gonna keep it?" 
         "Ya like it?" he asked her and she nodded, missing the look, he
shot Stella. "Then, I'll keep it." 
         "Cool," Francesca grinned and Stella finally stepped forward. 
         "Perhaps you should confine your affections for your 'brother'
until after hours, Miss. Vecchio," she reminded curtly and Francesca cast
her a mild glare. Stella ignored her and addressed Elaine. "Officer
Besbriss, I wanted you to know that we will do everything we can to clear
you of these charges." 
         "Thank you," Elaine returned gratefully as Ray grunted. 
         "Ooh, Stella's good deed fer the day. Whoopee," he retorted
sarcastically and Stella practically pushed Francesca out of the way to
get a clear look at him. 
         "What is your problem, Ray?" she demanded, angrily, though her
eyes couldn't hide the confusion she was feeling at his behavior. 
         "Me?" he returned moving off the desk and staring down at her. "I
don't have a problem, Ms. Assistant State's Attorney." Stella stared at
him with hurt in her eyes. Her voice lowered slightly. 
         "Ray, why are you so angry?" she implored. "What did I do?"
Instead of answering, Ray moved away from her. 
         "You guys go ahead and talk shop," he suggested moving toward the
door. "I wouldn't know what any of it means anyway. Ben can fill me in
later." 
         "Ray!" 
         "Detective!" Both Fraser and Welsh tried to call him back but he
was already gone. The Mountie seemed torn between staying to hear about
Elaine's case, and going after his friend. Francesca made the decision for
him. 
         "Um...well you don't need me here either so I...I'll just
go...um...too." she decided, patting Fraser's arm as passed, to let him
know where she was going. He nodded at her gratefully. 
         She caught up with Ray in the hallway and practically dragged him
into one of the interview rooms. 
         "Hey!" he protested, almost smiling. "Ya want a career as a pro
wrestler?" She didn't even crack a smile, as she slammed the door and
turned to glower at him, her hands on her hips. He leveled his hands up at
her defensively. "You gonna read me my rights now?" 
         "You don't remember me do, ya?" she demanded and he was so
startled by the question he was unable to respond. She continued,
undeterred. "I'm not stupid, Ray. I know you just said it to make me feel
better and ya can't possibly remember me because you were never this nice
to me!" 
         "I...yer mad because I'm bein' nice to you?" he asked bewildered.
"I don't get it. If I was mean to ya before I'm sorry..." 
         "You weren't mean, Ray," she dismissed some of her fire dimming.
"Not really anyway. It...you just were really good at the sibling rivalry
thing, y'know?" Ray nodded, then shook his head confused. "Look, ferget
about me for a minute, why are you bein' such a total jerk to yer ex all
of a sudden?" Ray folded his arms across his chest defensively and leaned
against the table scowling. 
         "Why do you care?" he demanded. "She ain't yer ex." 
         "No," Francesca agreed, "but she is yours and the Ray Kowalski I
remember loved her dearly." 
         "Dat was before," he retorted. 
         "Before what?" Francesca pressed. "What did she do to make you so
mad at her? I've seen her treat you like trash in the past and ya never
had a bad word to say about her." 
         "Yah well, maybe I didn't know the score den," Ray defended. 
         "Know what?" 
         "Dat she's a..." he paused. He had been about to say whore, but
he couldn't force the words past his lips. No matter how angry he was, how
betrayed he felt, he couldn't say that about Stella. He could think it
maybe, but he couldn't say it. "Ferget it! I do not need lessons from you
on how to treat someone, Frannie. You treat Fraser like yer favorite piece
of pie on the dessert cart. Ya think dat doesn't make him uncomfortable?" 
         "This isn't about me and Fraser," she denied hotly. "It's about
you acting like a...a... Brickhead!" Ray stared at her, confused. Body by
Fisher - Brains by Mattel, he mused as he finally figured out what she
meant. 
         "A Blockhead?" 
         "Block, brick, cement whatever!" she waved her arms at him
frustrated. "Yer acting like an ass and dat's not like you. Sure you can
be a real jerk sometimes but yer never cruel, Ray." 
         "How do you know what I am?" he snarled suddenly. "You don't know
me any better than those jokers out dere! I don't know me Frannie, so how
the hell can you? I am sick of people makin' comparisons to who I was
before. Stop telling me how to act, and what ta say. If I wanna yell at ya
I'll yell at ya, if I wanna be friendly I will and if I wanna kiss you
I'll..." he stopped suddenly as her eyes grew wide. He swallowed
convulsively and moved toward the door, his eyes lowered. "I...I'll leave,
dat's what I'll do." He finished but she blocked his escape. 
         "You...you really wanna kiss me?" she squeaked and he shook his
head. 
         "No, yes...I...I don't know," He stepped back and braced his
hands on the table, his head lowered. "I don't know why I said dat,
Frannie. I...I'm a little screwed up here and I...maybe I'm lonely." He
shook his head again. "I dunno." He dropped into the chair and rested his
head on his hands, bleakly. "I miss Stell." Francesca moved forward and
tentatively placed an arm around his shoulders. 
         "I know," she soothed gently. "But, why are you being so mean to
her?" He shrugged. 
         "She...she shouldn't have..." He couldn't say it. He couldn't
admit that he hadn't been man enough to keep his wife from hoping into
someone else's bed. "I suck." 
         "No you don't," Francesca assured, crouching down beside him. "I
understand yer mad because yer no longer married, ya didn't handle it real
well before you lost yer memory. Ray, ya gotta move on and trashin' her
isn't gonna make you feel any better. You're only hurting yerself, because
you love her, ya big dope!" Ray smirked and turned his head toward her.
She could see the tears in his eyes and her heart went out to him. 
         "She...she cheated on me, Frannie," he moaned. "How...how could
someone...if you love someone you don't..." 
         He shook his head again, as a knock sounded at the door.
Francesca encouraged the person to enter and Fraser stepped inside. He
regarded the scene, solemnly, and noticed Ray was, again, fiddling the
medallion around his neck for comfort. Francesca wondered if the Detective
was even aware he was caressing the charm, for the old Ray Kowalski had
never seemed particularly religious. 
         Francesca was shocked by Ray's admission and at a loss what to
say. She rose and looked toward Fraser, who indicated he would talk to
Ray, alone. She nodded and leaned down to kiss the top of Ray's head
affectionately, before leaving quietly. Fraser had heard Ray's despairing
confession and he set his Stetson on the table and pulled up the other
chair to sit next to his partner. 
         "Ray?" The Detective continued to hide his face. "Ray, please
look at me."  

"Ray!" it was Fraser's voice. "Look at me. Look at me!" 
Then a beautiful, blond woman was speaking to him. 
"I don't know what to say. . . I made a mistake. . . I'm sorry." 
"Yeah, you did." 
"Look, I'll talk to my lieutenant and I'll get back your 4,000 bucks" 
 "I know that's good, Ray. Because as we walk along life's highway, it's
nice to know that in a crunch I can just really count on you." 
"Look wait a minute, I-" 

         "I screwed it up again, didn't I, Ben?" Ray asked mournfully and
Fraser again started to rub his back. 
         "Tell me what you think, Stella did, Ray," he requested quietly
and so Ray did. Fraser listened silently, as his friend related the
conversation he remembered with Detective Dewey and of Stella kissing the
Alderman on the steps of his house. 
         "What am I gettin' wrong, here, Buddy?" Ray whispered, tortured.
"She did those things right? I can't be imagining it. She was goin' with
dat guy." 
         "She was seeing the Alderman, Ray..." Fraser admitted and Ray
pushed back from the table, angrily. 
         "I knew it!" he declared slapping his fist against the wall. "I
knew she cheated on me! God damnit! I'm a fool!" Fraser rose and moved to
stand beside him as he started hitting his head off the wall. Fraser
quickly put a stop to that. 
         "Ray, you are wrong," he insisted, struggling for the Detective's
attention. "Stella was seeing the Alderman after you two had already
divorced. Her being unfaithful had nothing to do with your breakup." Ray
paused and searched Fraser's eyes, finding the truth there, then lowering
his own contritely. 
         "I hate dis, Ben," he sighed dejectedly. "I hate bein' so mixed
up on what I think I know and what's real." Fraser nodded and led his
friend toward the door. 
         "Then, you will just have to tell me every time you have a memory
or you are unsure about something, Ray," he insisted. "Let me explain it
before your imagination runs away from you again." Ray nodded
apologetically. 
         They opened the door and almost walked into Stella. She
immediately started to move away but Ray caught her arm. 
         "Wait, Stell," he implored. "Can...can I talk to ya a sec?" 
         "Why," she demanded, coldly, "So you can insult me some more?" he
shook his head. 
         "No, just...please?" 
         "Ray was confused about a memory he had with you and Alderman
Orsini, Ms. Kowalski," Fraser offered helpfully. "I am afraid he thought
that was why you and he divorced." Stella's eyes widened in shock and Ray
seemed to shrink before her, awaiting her anger. Instead she smiled and
threw her arms around him. 
         "Oh Ray!" she cried joyously. "You remembered something? That's
wonderful?"  Ray met Fraser's gaze confused, before slowly returning the
embrace. He expected her to be angry, at least slap him or something, but
she just seemed happy that he'd had a memory; regardless of the problems
it had caused. 
         "I love you," he murmured into her hair as Fraser discreetly
moved away to give them privacy. "I'm sorry I thought dat about you, sorry
fer what I said." 
         "I forgive you," she laughed hugging him even harder. "I love you
too." 
         "That mean you'll marry me again?" he asked hopefully and she
moved back and smacked at his chest playfully, even as she blushed. 
         "You're incorrigible," she decided still grinning. Ray grinned
back. She didn't say no, anyway, maybe there's a chance. 
         "Tell me all about it over dinner?" he suggested and she
pretended to be angry with him. 
         "What about your plans with Miss. Vecchio?" she accused warily
and he shrugged sheepishly. 
         "She says I gotta be mean to her, she ain't used to me bein' nice
apparently," He explained and Stella's facade dropped. She smiled and
stepped out of his arms. 
         "Soon," she promised, reaching up to caress his cheek and Ray
nodded. 
  
  

         Fraser and Ray arrived at the Dawson home a short time later,
without Elaine who had been told, by Welsh, to go home. He didn't want IA
thinking she was involved in any kind of investigation, regarding her
case, no matter how unofficial it might be. As they exited the GTO Fraser
suggested Ray should allow him to do the talking and he agreed. The
Mountie knocked on the door and a tall, attractive brunette answered and
peered at them curiously. 
         "May I help you?" she inquired politely and Fraser nodded,
removing his hat in deference to her. 
         "Yes, Ma'am," he agreed. "I am Constable Benton Fraser of the
Royal Canadian Mounted police and this is my partner Detective Vecchio." 
Ray showed her his Identification, but she barely glanced at it, she
seemed preoccupied. Fraser continued. "Are you Mrs. Cynthia Dawson?" 
         "Yes, I am," she agreed. "How may I help you?" she frowned
slightly. "I'm afraid I don't give out money at the door but if your
charity or what was it...Mounted policemen? If they would like to send me
a letter regarding your cause I will give a donation." 
         "We aren't looking for money, Mrs. Dawson," Fraser assured
quickly. "We would like to speak to you about your husband, if we may?"
Again she scowled, then shrugged, and stepped aside to allow them entry. 
         "Are you friend's of his?" she inquired as she led them into a
spacious living area. "I don't recall him having mentioned you, but then,
my Mike kept to himself a lot..." 
         "We do not wish to deceive you, Mrs. Dawson," Fraser offered
kindly. "We were not acquainted with your husband, but we are
investigating his death. We are very sorry for your loss." 
         "I thought you said you were both from Canada?" she questioned
suspiciously and they nodded. 
         "I apologize if you misunderstood. " Fraser offered. "Detective
Vecchio is with the Chicago police department and I am his unofficial
partner. Although, I have no jurisdiction in Chicago..." Cynthia
interrupted. 
         "Then, why are you here?" she demanded and Fraser quickly
explained. 
         "Ah, well, I first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's
killer and for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I've
remained attached, as liaison with the Chicago police department." Mrs.
Dawson shook her head. 
         "No, I mean why are you here talking to me, Constable?" she
amended. "I could care less why you are still in Chicago." Fraser nodded
curtly. 
         "Of course, please forgive me," he returned quickly. "We wished
to ask you some questions, that is all." She nodded and moved to the small
bar in the corner to pour herself a soda water. 
         "Would you gentlemen like anything?" she offered and they both
declined. She moved back and settled on the small loveseat, indicating
they sit on the sofa opposite. "I've already told the police everything I
know about that day and that woman. I don't see what more help I could be
to you." The telephone rang in the hallway and she excused herself to
answer it, leaving the two men alone for a moment. Ray turned to Fraser. 
         "Are you ever gonna get around to actually askin' a question,
Ben, or do we have to use mental telepathy?" he demanded sourly and Fraser
shook his head, surprised at his friend's impatience. 
         "We don't wish to offend her, Ray," he reminded quietly.
"Especially since our visit is unofficial and she really isn't required,
by law, to tell us anything." 
         "No, I understand dat," Ray agreed. "But if you keep up with the
honesty bit she'll find out we're here unofficially and you'll blow our
chance." 
         "Ray," Fraser began mildly. "Procedure dictates that..." 
         "I know the damn procedure, Fraser!" Ray snapped, suddenly, then
his eyes widened as he realized that he did know how to interview a
witness. His voice lowered to a bare whisper and his eyes brightened with
wonder and excitement. "I do know it, Ben. I know what to do!" Fraser
stared at him in shock, but the return of Mrs. Dawson hindered his chance
to reply. He and Ray stood politely at her approach. 
         "Now, where were we, gentlemen?" she inquired and Ray spoke
first. 
         "We hate to be a nuisance to you, Ma'am," he offered kindly in
the soft, cajoling tone Fraser had often heard the Detective use when he
was leading up to something. Sometimes sugar was a better bait than
vinegar and the Detective had not lost his touch. "We just need to ask you
a few questions, I'm afraid they're rather personal, but den we'll be out
of yer hair." 
         "All right," Mrs. Dawson agreed, obviously surprised at the
sudden change in the blond, who hadn't said a word earlier. 
         "Was your husband an alcoholic?" Ray inquired and Fraser hid his
surprise well. Mrs. Dawson did not and she was slightly rattled. He
settled beside her and patted her hand comfortingly. "It's okay. I noticed
dat you have a fully stocked bar, but no liquor, only soda and seltzer
water." 
         "I...yes, Mike did drink heavily," she admitted biting her lip.
"I threw it all out when he...when he died. I couldn't stand to look at it
anymore." 
         "He was very controlling, wasn't he?" Ray pressed gently and she
nodded. 
         "He...he was particular about how he wanted things, yes," she
agreed, tugging her blouse a little straighter. "What does all of this
have to do with him being killed?" 
         "We're just trying to figure out what would be normal behavior
for yer husband." Fraser assured, catching on to where Ray was headed with
his questioning. "If he did like things a certain way, done at a certain
time. That sort of thing." 
         "Mike really just kept to himself a lot," she said again,
obviously uncomfortable. 
         "We noticed that the store hours are from ten to six every
weekday and noon to six on Saturday." Fraser commented. "Did your husband
often go into the store on a Sunday when it wasn't open?" 
         "No, not really," she admitted after a considerable pause.
"Unless he had a shipment coming in, but then they came every Wednesday
and Saturday evening, so he would stay late. I never knew him to go to the
shop on Sunday, because that's his golf or fishing day and he would be
gone most of that day." 
         "So there was really no reason for him to be in the store dat
day, that you know of?" Ray confirmed and she shook her head. "Was he home
in the evenings, most nights?" 
         "Yes," she acknowledged. "He would usually go straight into his
study after supper and not come out until it was time for bed," She
grimaced. "Then he would usually be drunk." Fraser and Ray exchanged a
curious glance. 
         "Did your husband keep a ledger for the store, Mrs. Dawson?"
Fraser inquired and she glanced at him startled. 
         "Yes, I believe so," she admitted. "It would be in his study. I
fail to see what any of this has to do with my husband's death." 
         "We are trying to establish a motive, Ma'am," The Mountie offered
and she frowned. 
         "They already have the motive," she declared, suspiciously. "That
woman officer shot him, because she was in love with him and he refused
her advances." 
         "That may not be the case, Mrs. Dawson," Fraser insisted as the
tinkling of the doorbell sounded around them. "We believe that Officer
Besbriss is being framed for your husband's murder and we are merely
trying to find the true perpetrators of the crime." Her eyes narrowed as
the doorbell sounded again. 
         "Excuse me," she requested and went to answer it. 
         "Crap," Ray hissed. "She's not gonna let us see dat ledger, Ben."

         "Perhaps we can still convince her, Ray," the Mountie offered as
Mrs. Dawson returned with another woman, a blond amazon, wearing a dark
blue slack suit. Neither looked happy. 
         "You have no right to be here," the taller woman informed. "My
client has given her statements and unless you are part of the official
investigation, which I know you are not, you will leave immediately or I
will press charges of harassment." 
         "And you are?" Ray retorted, unimpressed. 
         "Ruthie Jones, Mrs. Dawson's attorney," she introduced coolly.
"I've instructed my client to speak to no one, since she is suing Officer
Besbriss for the wrongful death of her husband." 
         "Elaine didn't kill your client's husband!" Ray snapped. "And if
she did it was an accident or in self defense." 
         "Mrs. Dawson has nothing more to say to either of you," Jones
insisted. "Leave now or I'll have you arrested for trespassing and
violating my client's civil rights." 
         "Ah, arrest yerself," Ray retorted. 
         Ray moved past her toward the door. He paused and turned back
toward them, to capture Cynthia Dawson's gaze. She looked confused and
worried; she didn't know what was going on, only what her lawyer told her.

         "We are sorry about yer husband's death," he offered again. "But
shouldn't you at least meet the woman whose life yer about to change?
Don't take yer lawyer's word on who she is, meet with her. You'll see the
truth." 
         "Leave now, Detective," Jones warned and Ray had the urge to
reach across and smack her smug face. Instead they turned and left. 
         "That went well," Fraser commented off hand, as they headed for
the GTO and Ray smirked. 
         "Jones needs ta get laid," he decided, and Fraser gaped at him in
disapproval as they slid inside the vehicle. "Anyone with dat much ice in
their veins needs to be thawed, but quick." 
         "Really, Ray," he scowled, even as his lips twitched
suspiciously. "I'm truly not sure if I approve of this scandalous side of
you." Ray grinned, undeterred, and started the engine. 
         "Yah, but ya love me," he confirmed and Fraser allowed his smile
to break through. "I'm irresistible." 
         "That you are, my friend," he sighed, defeated and Ray chuckled. 
  

         "Look, " Joe Clark insisted leaning back against his chair. "I'm
only talkin' to you guys because I want to help Elaine. IA told me not to
talk to anyone about dis." 
         Ray and Fraser had cornered the officer inside a small café,
during his dinner hour. He was a tall man with dark red hair and a boyish
face. 
         "We appreciate that you want to help, Officer Clark," Fraser
offered amiably. "We are just concerned why your story and Elaine's seems
to differ so much." Clark shrugged and took a bite of his hamburger. 
         "I can only say what happened," he insisted. "I don't know why
Elaine's lyin' about the reason we checked out dat jewelry store. She's
been stressed lately. Maybe if she had told me what was goin' on, I
could've helped and she wouldn't have done what she did." 
         "Elaine didn't do anything," Ray growled emphatically from his
position opposite the other officer. "She may have been under a little
pressure, but she still knows how to be a cop and she still goes by the
book. Now you tell me why the hell we should believe yer side of the
story." 
         "It doesn't matter if you believe it or not," Clark reminded
calmly. "Dat's fer IA to decide, and besides it's the truth." He dropped
his food back on the plate. "Look, I didn't want to rat on Besbriss, she's
my partner. But, they were leanin' on me pretty heavy and I had ta tell
the truth." 
         "How long was Elaine in the coffee shop that day?" Fraser
inquired as Ray continued to glare at the man. 
         "I dunno," he replied. "Probably just a few minutes, but when she
came back she didn't have any coffee, so I dunno." 
         "And when she returned, that was when she mentioned suspicious
activity at the jewelry store?" Fraser surmised and Clark nodded. 
         "Yah, so we went and checked it out." 
         "Why didn't you call for backup?" Ray demanded. 
         "Elaine told me we didn't have time," Clark insisted and Ray
frowned. 
         "You didn't have time to say two words into a radio?" he
challenged. 
         "Look, she seemed upset and said it was urgent, so I went," Clark
replied. "She's my partner, I had to back her up." 
         "So you just followed her there?" Ray pressed. "You heard shots,
ya went inside and what?" 
         "Read the report!" Clark snapped. He'd had enough and he rose
from the booth to stand nose to nose with Kowalski. "I don't care who you
think you are, but Elaine's my partner and I didn't do this to hurt her." 
         "Oh yah, lying was really a big help to her," Ray snapped, not
backing down. Fraser could sense the hostility growing between them and he
stepped in. 
         "Perhaps, we should just step back a moment, gentlemen," he
suggested. "We are, after all, in this to help Elaine." Neither Clark nor
Kowalski showed signs of hearing him and he moved to stand between them. 
         "I find out yer involved in dis Clark and yer ass is mine," Ray
warned pointing at him menacingly. 
         "I am involved, Vecchio," Clark growled, not the least
intimidated by the other Detective's posture. "I'm the one who got Elaine
in dis mess and I wish ta God I'd kept my mouth shut!" 
         "Thank you kindly for your assistance, Officer, Clark," Fraser
offered, grabbing his Stetson off the table and pulling Ray away from the
other man. "We will be in touch if we learn anything." Clark nodded, but
his eyes never left Kowalski's until Fraser had guided him outside. 
         "Damnit Fraser!" Ray swore and shrugged his partner off as they
headed for the GTO. "Don't do dat!" Fraser smiled. He noticed that Ray
tended to call him Fraser whenever he was angry or excited, and he
wondered if the Detective was aware his old habit had returned. 
         "What should I have done, Ray?" he demanded mildly as they
settled in the vehicle. "Let you kick him in the head?" Ray smirked. 
         "It's a start," he opted. Fraser scoffed and dropped his Stetson
on the dash. 
         "I wouldn't think you'd fancy another trip to the hospital so
soon, Ray," he taunted and the blond glared at him. 
         "What's dat supposed to mean?" he challenged, starting the car
and pulling out into the street. 
         "Well, he easily had thirty pounds on you, Ray," Fraser
commented. "It would have been a valiant struggle I am sure, but in the
end you would have lost." 
         "Dat's not Buddies, Ben," Ray growled. "Yer supposed to have
faith in me." 
         "I have insurmountable faith in you, Ray my friend," the Mountie
assured. "It is your fighting skills that I question." 
         Ray was silent for a long moment and Fraser began to worry his
teasing had actually offended his partner. He knew Ray could hold his own,
in almost any odds. The Detective's determination more than made up for
any lack of ability he might have against a stronger, more skilled
opponent. Kowalski's cat like grace served him well, because the
American's stealth and agility was difficult for a larger opponent to
match. 
         "Ray?" he queried, tentatively, when his friend still hadn't
responded. "Ray I was only teasing. I find you to be an admirable
contender." Ray grinned and shot him a quick glance, before returning his
eyes to the road ahead. 
         "Hey, I took down a giant, not too bad fer a skinny little runt
from Chicago," he commented calmly and Fraser's eyes widened. 
         "Ray!" he gasped excitedly. "You...do you remember...?" 
         "I remember part of it, Ben," Ray admitted, still keeping his
eyes on the road, which was slick with snow, and had turned to slush from
the salt trucks. "Not all of it, just pieces, but I remember we took him
down." He smiled at the Mountie. "Together." 
         "Oh, Ray," Fraser replied softly. "I am glad that you remember us
being a team." 
         "Me too, Benton Buddy," the Detective offered, as they pulled
into the precinct's lot. He turned and pointed the tip of his finger at
the Mountie. "Partners forever?" Fraser touched his finger to Ray's in a
private, symbolic gesture of friendship. 
         "Forever, Ray," he agreed smiling. They exited the vehicle and
entered the station. 
         "To bad ya ain't a woman, Frase," Ray commented as they neared
his desk. 
         "Why is that, Ray?" Fraser inquired startled. 
         "It'd be nice to feel, ya know...close like dis, with a woman,"
Ray realized that didn't sound quite right and continued before Fraser
misunderstood. "I...I mean, to find a woman dat I could be real good
friends with, as well as...other stuff." Fraser nodded. 
         "Ah, understood, Ray," he assured and Ray grinned relieved. 
         "You always seem to know what I'm thinkin'," he stated,  "it'd
save me a lot of hassle if I could find a woman that could do that. Den I
wouldn't have to worry 'bout screwin' things up with whatever came out of
my mouth," Fraser smiled. 
         "I'm sure she's out there somewhere, Ray," he offered amused.
"Perhaps you should advertise for a psychic?" 
         "Har de ha ha, funny guy," Ray retorted. He shrugged out of his
raglan, draped it over the back of his desk chair, and then proceeded
toward Welsh's office. "Yer a freak, Fraser." 
         "But, you love me," Fraser reminded, as Ray had done him earlier.
Ray grinned and knocked on the Lieutenant's door. 
         "Come in!" barked Welsh and the two entered. The older man did
not look happy and Ray was tempted to turn back around and come back
later, but Welsh's hard gaze held both men, immobilized. 
         "Er...Hiya, Sir," Ray offered with forced cheerfulness, which
only made Welsh scowl more. Now Ray understood what Fraser had been
telling him about coming face to face with an angry mama or papa grizzly,
Welsh looked ready to carve them into pieces. 
         Then, he saw the reason for his superior's ire, when he came face
to...well, chest with Ruthie Jones. Ray didn't mind tall women, but this
one was at least six one or two and reminded him of Brigitte Neilson. He
took his time raising his gaze to hers, a twinkle in his blue-green eyes. 
         "Well, if it ain't Mrs. Kong," he remarked slyly. "Dey let ya
outta yer cage in daylight?" 
         Her dark, opal eyes glowered at him but he just continued to
stare up at her amused. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet,
trying to make himself a little taller, just to irritate her. 
         "Do all of your Detectives have the manners of a sewer rat,
Lieutenant?" she questioned, her gaze never leaving Ray's. "Or is it just
this one." 
         "Just this one," Welsh and Fraser both responded and Ray grinned.

         "I'm a legend in my own right," he decided brazenly. 
         "You will be an out of work legend if you even think about coming
near my client again, Detective," she warned. Her hostility only proved to
encourage Kowalski's mischievous attitude. 
         "Dat a threat, Counselor?" he inquired innocently. 
         "That's a promise, Detective," she assured boldly. Again Ray
rocked back on the balls of his feet, and shoved his hands in his pockets.
He raised his eyebrows suggestively. 
         "Ooh," he grinned. "Yer gettin' me excited." 
         He continued to match her haughty stare, wiggling his head a
little at her, mockingly. Jones was the first to break their contest and
set her gaze on Welsh, who was watching the exchange with mild interest. 
         "I trust you will take my words seriously, Lieutenant?" she
challenged. "I do not want either of these two near Mrs. Dawson." 
         "I hear you, Counselor," Welsh agreed grimly, as Ray folded his
arms and leaned against the Lieutenant's desk to face Jones. 
         "You have a nice day now," he purred and was mildly surprised
when she flushed from anger or embarrassment, or perhaps both. She turned
on her heel and stormed from the office, almost barreling over Fraser, who
had hurried to open the door for her. 
         "Detective..." Welsh began in warning and Ray grinned at him. 
         "I think she likes me," he teased and Fraser struggled not to
smile. Welsh was not impressed. 
         "I am telling you to stay the hell away from the Dawson woman,"
Welsh determined and again Ray grinned. 
         "Is dat officially or unofficially, Sir?" he inquired. 
          As usual with this Detective, Welsh didn't know whether to laugh
at Kowalski or reach across to smack the younger troublemaker for his
insolence. He ended up smiling and shaking his head. He'd missed Ray, more
than he'd realized and he was glad the blond seemed to be getting some of
his own back. 
         "Just stay out of Ms. Jones' way, gentlemen," he suggested
gruffly. "She's a barracuda and will chew you up and spit you out." Ray
chuckled and straightened from the desk. 
         "With or without tarter sauce?" he asked and Fraser scowled at
him disapprovingly. 
         "It is hardly a laughing matter, Ray," He reminded primly, as
Francesca knocked on the door. Welsh waved her in impatiently. 
         "Yes, Miss. Vecchio?" he sighed dropping into his chair, now that
Jones had left. 
         "There's a lady here to see, Ray," she informed, after a slow
appraisal of the Mountie holding the door for her. "Hiya Frase." Fraser
blushed and nodded. 
         "Francesca," he returned politely. 
         "Who is it, Frannie?" Ray asked, ignoring her flirtation with his
partner. 
         "She didn't want to leave her name, just asked to see you,"
Francesca stated, her attention finally returning to the others in the
room. "She's waiting in interview two." 
         "Are we done, or is there more unofficial business we should know
about, Sir?" Ray inquired sweetly and the larger man actually took a swipe
at him, which he dodged easily. 
         "Get outta here!" he barked, but there was amusement in his
voice, as the three scurried out of his office. 
         Ray chuckled and followed Fraser toward the holding rooms. He put
his hand on the first one they came to and Fraser automatically steered
him to the other one. Hey, he couldn't remember everything. They were both
surprised to find Cynthia Dawson seated at one of the tables, her arms
wrapped around a pair of tall books. 
         "Mrs. Dawson," Ray greeted, not hiding his surprise. "Um...what
can we do fer you?" She looked at him, then at the books that she had set
gingerly on the table at their entrance. 
         "I...I saw that Ruthie was here," she stated quietly, her eyes
still lowered. "I...I didn't want her to see me. I...I know she wouldn't
approve." 
         "We won't tell her," Ray promised, kindly, as he pulled out the
other chair next to her, and straddled it. "We want ta help." Cynthia
nodded, as her fingers caressed the books before her. 
         "I want you to know, I...I'm not a selfish or vindictive person,"
she insisted, softly. "I only want what's best for...for my family. My
husband's death came as a...a shock." 
         "We understand, ma'am," Fraser offered. "We want to see justice
served as well, by putting the true perpetrator in jail." Cynthia finally
met their gaze. 
         "Ruthie says Officer Besbriss shot my husband," she defended.
"Even the police say that is true." 
         "Yes," Fraser agreed. "But Officer Besbriss was investigating a
possible break in and she claims she was shot at first." 
         "My husband didn't even own a gun," she denied. "And if he did
shoot at her, he probably thought she was burglar, and that he had a right
to defend himself and his property." Both men recognized the lawyer's
spiel that had been programmed into the distraught woman's mind. 
         "Officer Besbriss claims she called out and identified herself,
and that was when she was fired upon," Fraser informed calmly. Cynthia
again lowered her eyes, her confusion and distress evident. 
         "Everyone has told me..." she shook he head firmly. "Was she
sleeping with my husband?" 
         "No," Ray denied. "She did have dinner with him, but he had asked
her and she didn't know he was married." 
         "Apparently she found him...a little too forward and so she
stopped seeing him," Fraser explained gently. 
         "But he didn't let it go, did he?" Cynthia sighed and both men
tried to hide their shock. Fraser was the first to recover. 
         "No, I am afraid he did not take her rejection well," he admitted
and she nodded. 
         "Have...did yer husband have a...problem with taking no fer an
answer, Mrs. Dawson?" Ray questioned, keeping his tone as sympathetic as
possible. She didn't answer his question at first, then when she spoke it
was not in response to his query. 
         "I...I don't know if I should be doing this," she admitted
hesitantly, as she started to caress the books again. "I don't know if I
believe you or...or who to believe. But I don't want to blame
someone...someone who might be innocent for Mike's death." She pushed the
books toward them. "These are the store's ledgers, I don't know what you
are looking for but here they are." She reached into her pocket and pulled
out a long white envelope. "These...I found these in my husband's desk.
I...I hope they can help you..." She bit her lower lip, as she pushed her
chair back, and stood; the men quickly followed suit. "I want you to find
the true person responsible for my husband's death as well." 
         "Thank you kindly, ma'am," Fraser offered moving to open the door
for her. 
         "Yes, we appreciate dis, really and we will find the real
criminal," Ray promised. Cynthia paused and turned to look at him. She
surprised them by reaching for Ray, then pulling her hand back
reluctantly. 
         "Your friend is very lucky to have..." She met Fraser's gaze as
well. "To have you looking out for her." 
          Before they could respond, she had turned away and hurried out.
Both men exchanged a glance, then closed the door, and returned to the
table to look over the evidence left for them. 
         "Oh man," Ray commented as he opened the envelope and pulled out
photos of Elaine in various places. In some, she was in uniform, others
were taken in her home. Obviously, the female officer was unaware she was
being photographed. "Is dis good or bad, Ben?" 
         "Well, it could substantiate Elaine's claim that Dawson was
stalking her," Fraser admitted looking over the photographs. He especially
found the ones of their fellow officer's apartment and bedroom disturbing.
Taken through the window or with a telephoto lens, the idea alone was
distressing. "However it would also be proof of a motive for Elaine to
kill him, as they claim she did." 
         "So, what do we do?" Ray asked, worried. "Do we show them to
Welsh or keep 'em to ourselves?" 
         "It is evidence in a crime, Ray," Fraser reminded. "No matter
what the outcome might be, we would be charged with obstruction of justice
if we didn't turn them over." 
         "Yah," he agreed, "but it was evidence dat was given to us
unofficially, Ben. Technically, we're not even on the case sooo..." 
         "It doesn't matter, Ray," Fraser refused. "We have knowledge of
the investigation. If we don't turn over the photographs it will be a
suppression of evidence."  

"I am suggesting that we don't report the body." 
"Fraser, yer talkin' about suppressing the evidence..." 
"No, no ,no, delaying..." 
"Suppressing..." 
"Delaying, delaying reporting the body to give us a chance to find the
real killer." 

         "Okay," Ray agreed, shaking the voices from his head. "What about
if we just delay showing them to Welsh?" 
         "It is still suppressing..." Fraser protested and Ray cut him
off. 
         "Delaying, Benton Buddy," He insisted. "Like in delaying the
report of a dead body." Fraser stared at him confused for a moment then
his lips twitched. 
         "Ah," He agreed. "Understood." Ray's bits of memory seemed to be
coming at the strangest times, but Fraser wasn't complaining. 
         "Twenty-four hours, Ben," Ray suggested. "If we don't find
anything else dat can sway the case to Elaine's side, we'll show Welsh the
pictures. But, give us a chance at least." Fraser nodded. 
         "Agreed," he replied and Ray shoved the photos back into the
envelope, then stuck them in his pocket. Fraser picked up one of the
ledgers. 
         "Let's see what we can find in here," he decided and Ray flipped
open the second one. 
         "Tell me what we're lookin' fer and I'll tell ya if I find it,"
he requested, staring at the columns of numbers confused. 
         "I was just curious to see if there was any difference in Mr.
Dawson's store income during the weeks leading up to his death," Fraser
supplied intent on the book before him. 
         "You think he was playin' hooky from his shop to follow Elaine
around?" Ray asked and Fraser nodded. 
         "Something like that," he admitted, frowning, as he scanned the
pages of red and black ink. "That, again, would give credence to Elaine's
account of stalking. On the other hand..." 
         "It could still prove to be a motive against her," Ray sighed and
he flipped through the pages. 
         "I'm afraid so," Fraser agreed. 
         Both were silent for a time, Fraser settled in the chair at the
table bent over his book, while Ray perched on the corner of the table
with one leg swinging idly over the side. 
         "Huh, dat's queer," he commented and Fraser glanced up at him. 
         "What is, Ray?" he inquired curious. 
         "Well, I dunno too much about books and accounting, Frase," Ray
admitted, setting his ledger over the Mounties's book on the table. "But,
those figures don't even make sense ta me. I mean it looks like he made
almost the same amount every week, like he never had a bad day or a really
good one." 
         "Hmmm," Fraser studied the figures. His gaze rose to meet Ray's
and the Detective nodded in confirmation; they were on the same page. 
  
  

         "The place was a front," Ray informed, tossing the ledgers onto
Welsh's desk. "Dawson was using the store as a front fer an illegal
activity, I'd bet my job on it." 
         "That may well be what yer doin', Detective," Welsh decided
sardonically, as he indicated the books before him. "And just how did you
get yer hands on these, or do I want to know?" 
         "Mrs. Dawson brought them to us, Sir," Fraser supplied and
Welsh's eyebrows rose in surprise. "She was the lady who wished to speak
with Ray. I believe she is having second thoughts about her case against
Officer Besbriss." 
         "We didn't seek her out, Lieu," Ray defended quickly. "She came
ta us." 
         Welsh grunted and glanced through the pages of the ledger that
Ray had marked. Ray pulled out the paper he had retrieved from Mike
Dawson's desk at the jewelry store yesterday. 
         "Dis is an appointment set up for midnight tomorrow," he
informed. "Someone else broke in while we were there yesterday and were
real anxious to find dat note." 
         "And how did you get dis?" Welsh frowned, snatching the paper
from Ray's hand and holding it up to the light so he could make out the
words better. 
         "You don't want ta know," Ray grinned and Welsh cast him a stoic
glare, before tossing the paper back at him. 
         "Just when were ya planning on showing me dis bit of illegal
evidence?" 
         "We've been busy," Ray defended innocently; they had already
given Welsh the micro cassette tape they had found. Again, Welsh grunted
in disapproval. 
         "Take Dewey and Huey and stake out the pier." He decided gruffly.

         "Greatness!" Ray agreed. "Thanks, Sir." 
         "Vecchio!" Welsh called sharply and Ray remembered to turn. "If
this is a wild goose chase, you'll have a lot more to worry about than
Jones, you got me?" Ray swallowed convulsively and nodded. 
         "Got it, yes, Sir," he acknowledged and hurried out with Fraser. 
  

         "What's wrong, Ray?" Fraser asked, as they sat in the darkened
interior of the GTO. Elaine and Dief were in the back and his partner kept
shifting uncomfortably in the seat. 
         "I dunno, I feel like somethin's missin'. " he grumbled and
adjusted his position for the third time. It could be he was just anxious
about being here, but it was more than that. He felt, unprotected and
vulnerable, but he couldn't figure out why. He had changed into a heavier
leather coat, which was a little warmer than his raglan 
         "Aside from your mind, I presume?" the Mountie teased and Elaine
giggled. Ray glared at him, and tried to look offended, but the twitching
of his lips refused to carry it off. 
         "Gimmie yer gun, Elaine," he requested calmly. "I'm gonna shoot
him in the head and see how he likes havin' a slow leak in dat area." 
         Fraser scoffed at him and Elaine smiled. Welsh had taken her
badge and her duty gun, but she had brought her back up revolver with her,
just in case. Neither Fraser nor Ray carried a weapon. 
         "Can't we all just get along?" she laughed. Fraser smiled, Ray
didn't quite understand the catch phase but smiled anyway. The Walkie
Talkie on the seat between them cackled as Dewey called. 
         "Hey, Vecchio," There was a long pause, and then Ray suddenly
remembered they were talking to him. Dewey and Huey were at one end of the
pier. 
         "Oh, dat's me!" he chuckled, grabbing the radio. "Yah, what?" 
         "How much longer we gotta hang out here?" 
         "Hey, the meeting wasn't set until midnight," Ray reminded.
"What's the matter, ya gotta be home fer curfew or somethin'?" A hearty
chuckle from Huey followed his response. 
         "Good to have ya back, Ray," Huey offered and Ray blinked in
surprise. He exchanged a glance with Fraser and Elaine, who were also
smiling. He shrugged and spoke into the radio. 
         "Good to be back, I guess, such as I am," he replied. Suddenly a
flash across one of the dock pallets caught his eye. "There." He spoke
into the radio. "Hey we got company, look to yer left by the fruit
crates." A long black Lincoln town car approached the area. 
         "Got him," Huey informed. "And here comes visitor number two." A
second vehicle, a four by four jeep joined the first car and three men
stepped out; one from the jeep and two from the town car. 
         "Hold yer positions," Ray warned, surprising himself as well as
the others. He couldn't explain it but he sensed they needed to wait. One
more piece would be added to the puzzle, he could feel it. 
 As it turned out, two more people showed from somewhere behind the dock
crates, and it appeared to Ray that they were meeting for an exchange of
stolen merchandise. Each man wore a dark suit and remained shadowed in the
darkness. One of the four stepped up under a dock lamp and opened a small
velvet purse. He spread a portion of the product into the hands of the
smallest man present. Ray used his binoculars to see that it was diamonds.

         "The plot thickens," he murmured, as the two men exchanged a
briefcase no doubt containing money for the gems. He grabbed the radio.
"Move in!" 
         For a few brief moments, it was anarchy as they identified
themselves and charged the four men. The weasel with the diamonds and one
of the other men took off with Ray and Fraser after them, as Huey, Dewey,
and Elaine took care of the others. The Duck Boys caught the two remaining
and Elaine chased the third back toward his vehicle. 
         "Police!" she called. "Freeze, or I'll shoot!" 
         The man paused at the hood of his vehicle, his back to her, then
suddenly turned and fired at her. Elaine fired back automatically and shot
the gun out of the suspect's hand. She moved toward him as he howled and
cradled his hand, using her flashlight to get a better look at him as she
drew nearer. He looked up forlornly and she gasped. 
  

          Around the other side of the pier the buyer and his cohort were
tossing crates and trash cans behind them, in an attempt to slow Ray and
Fraser down, but the pair kept coming. 
         They neared a junction of warehouses and the two men split in
opposite directions. Fraser went left, with Diefenbaker running ahead, and
Ray hurried toward the right. Gunshots rang out and the Detective dove
behind a selection of crates, automatically reaching for his weapon. He
cursed. That was what he was missing! Not that he even knew if he could
shoot the damn thing, but his body seemed used to having it within reach. 
         He was pinned down by the other man's gunfire, but he couldn't
just stay there and let him get away. He stuck his head out and the force
of the bullets shattered a piece of the crate he had crouched behind.
Okay, so that's how the game is played. The guy was going to fire at any
movement on Ray's part. He glanced up toward the top row of the crates,
which were at least five feet above him. 
         He pulled off his coat and tried not to shiver in the cold
evening air. He propped the coat against one of the crates, maneuvering it
in a way it would start to slide in a few seconds and be visible to the
man firing at him. With a speed that surprised even him, he quickly
hoisted himself up and over the crates, being careful to stay low and use
the shadows to hide his movement. 
         The man started firing again and Ray knew his coat had dropped.
Positioning himself carefully atop one of the crates, he launched downward
toward the gunman. They both hit the ground with a painful crunch.  Ray
recovered first and grabbed the discarded gun from the still dazed
suspect. 
         "Twitch," he warned breathlessly, trying not to think of the pain
shooting through his bad leg. A voice inside his head said kick him in the
head, and he grinned. "On yer knees, hands behind ya." The man did as he
was told, then Ray realized he had no handcuffs. He saw Elaine hurrying
toward him. 
         "Ray!" she exclaimed worried. "Are you okay?" He nodded. 
         "Take care a him, I gotta go help Fraser," Ray assured, folding
the gun into the waistband of his jeans and hurrying off to find his
partner. His leg was on fire, but it didn't seem to matter. Something
about this whole scene was increasingly familiar.  

"Don't you go anywhere now." 
"D...did we get 'em, Buddy? Did...did we beat the giant?" 
"We did indeed, Ray." 

         Ray started running faster, a vision of his partner being choked
by a colossal sized man spurred his fear, and he screamed out Fraser's
name. 
         Relief flooded him when a slightly rumpled Mountie and his wolf
came around the corner of the building with the buyer in tow. Ray stopped
running and bent from the waist, resting his palms against his knees as he
struggled to catch his breath. 
         "Ray," Fraser greeted him, concerned. "Are you all right?" Ray
took a few deep breaths and straightened up. He nodded grinning. His lungs
were on fire, his leg was killing him, his stomach was nauseous, and he
was trembling all over with adrenaline and residual fear. 
         "I'm great, Frase," he assured. "I've never been better." 
  
  

         Joe Clark sat dejectedly in the straight back chair of Interview
room one, his cuffed hands resting on the table as Ray and Fraser paced
around him. 
         "Give it up, Clark!" Ray snapped, slamming his hand down on the
table and startling the younger cop. "Yer already goin' down, don't take
Elaine with ya." 
         "Look, I never meant fer any of dis to happen," he muttered, his
previous bravado gone. 
         Clark had seemed to deflate, inwardly, after Elaine shot the gun
from his hand. The shock and betrayal on his former partner's face had
apparently done more damage to the man than the bullet ever could. 
         "So tell us about it," Ray demanded. "Why'd you try to frame yer
own partner? Why'd ya lie to IA about what happened dat day?" 
         "I had to!" Clark cried. 
         "Explain it to me," Ray warned. "Real slow and don't leave out
any of the details." 
         "I...I don't know why I even started..." Clark moaned and shook
his head. "It started out just being a chauffeur job at night. Not all the
time, just sometimes. I...I'd get the call to go and pick up some guy at a
hotel or the airport and bring him to some secluded place to meet with
other people. At first I didn't think anything about it, but den I started
to notice things weren't Kosher, y'know?" 
         "So ya took the blinders off," Ray sneered, unimpressed by his
remorse. "Then what?" Clark glared at him, then immediately looked away.
Stripped of his position and dignity, he found the Detective's open
hostility more intimidating. 
         "Sean, the guy who set me up in the job, he guessed I was
noticing things weren't...right," Clark admitted. "Anyway, he started
paying me extra money to just keep my nose out of it and my mouth shut."
He raked his bound hands though his hair agitated. "It was a lot of money,
more den I'd make in a month as a cop. I...I couldn't say no." 
         "Where did Dawson come in?" Fraser inquired, happy for the most
part to watch Ray work, delighted that the Detective seemed to be
remembering more and more about how to be a cop. 
         "Dawson laundered the money dat changed hands. Sometimes he took
care of liquidating the gems dat came through." Clark stated quietly.
"Only he..." 
         "He wanted out?" Fraser decided and Clark nodded. 
        "Sean knew the guy had evidence on all of us bein' involved and
was talkin' about goin' to the cops." 
         "So ya had someone introduce him to Elaine, knowing she was the
type to get his mind off of you and yer buddies in crime fer awhile," Ray
confirmed and Clark nodded. 
         "Everyone knew he had a...thing for pretty women, especially ones
like Elaine... dat held strong careers," He explained uncomfortably. 
         "And were a minority, right?" Ray growled and Clark flinched.
"Sorta like the 'against all odds' theory, was it? She's black, beautiful,
a woman, and still could hold a position usually filled by a man. Was dat
about right, Clark?" 
         "He...he was harmless. He wouldn't have hurt her..." Clark began
and suddenly found himself hauled to his feet and thrown against the back
wall. Welsh, who had been watching through the two-way glass, immediately
entered the room and helped Fraser pull Ray off the other officer. 
         "He was a sick fuck and ya put yer own partner's life and
emotional health at risk just to give yerself time ta dress after gettin'
caught with yer pants down!" Kowalski screamed at him furiously. 
         Welsh was surprised that he actually had to work to restrain the
smaller man. Finally Ray relaxed slightly and he nodded, calmer. They
released him and he kicked the chair toward the other officer, his hard
gaze silently ordering Clark to resume his seat. He waited until Ray
walked back around to the other side of the table, before returning to his
seat reluctantly. 
         "Do you know what it's like to be watched everywhere ya go,
Clark? Do you know what it's like ta be afraid to open yer door or answer
yer phone?" Ray growled and tossed the photographs of Elaine on the table,
grabbing Clark by the collar and pulling him back to look at them. "Do
they look like pictures taken by a harmless person, Clark? Someone who's
just interested in lookin' maybe?" Clark stared at the photos of his
partner, distressed. 
         "No," he croaked and Ray released his collar in disgust. 
          They had shown Welsh the photos earlier and the Lieutenant had
allowed the Detective to use them during the interview, before putting
them to evidence. He happy how Ray and Fraser had 'delayed' showing them
to him, but since it was for Elaine he had let it slide. 
         Ray pushed the tape recorder toward Clark, pressed record, and
straddled the chair opposite, his eyes burning into Clark's skin. The
Officer finally nodded and began his report. 
  
  

         "Stanley!" Mrs. Kowalski cried as Ray, Fraser and Welsh stepped
out of the interview room. Joe Clark was remanded into custody. He would
be booked on a variety of crimes. He was shocked to see both his parents
here, since it was almost two O'Clock in the morning. Everyone had
returned to the station directly after the incident at the pier. 
         "Mum!" he returned, forgetting his mood, their case, and his
misgivings of both parents at the sight of her.  She threw herself into
his arms and cradled his face reverently. 
         "Why didn't you tell us you were home, Stanley?" She demanded,
hurt, kissing both sides of his face as Ray tried not to notice the other
people staring at them.. He barely glanced at his father, who was
approaching at a slower pace. 
         "Ya shouldn't be here, Mum," he scolded and quickly pulled her
into the room he had just exited. His father followed and closed the door,
away from prying eyes. ""What are you doin' here so late?" 
         "I had to come, Stanley," she cried and hugged him again. "When
Stella told us you were back, I kept waiting for you to come see us, but
you never did. We called your appartment and got no answer. We drove  over
there and you weren't home. Then I knew, I told yer father, there was only
one more place you could be."  She finally took a breath, then continued.
"Why are you back here, Stanley? Your father said you weren't going to do
this anymore, but I said to him, I said Damien, it's what he is, but he
didn't believe me and here you are and I was right." 
         "Yer always right, Mum," Ray smiled and returned her embrace
warmly; he had really missed her. 
         "You remembered then, didn't you?" she smiled joyously, again
cradling her son's handsome face. "I knew you would and I told them all, I
said just leave him alone, and he'll be fine and you came back to us. I
knew my baby boy wouldn't change, I knew you'd be the same as always." 
         Ray allowed her to talk; he never could find the courage to
interrupt his Mother's ramblings. It irritated him when other people, like
Fraser or Frannie, talked all in one breath like his Mother did, but that
was different. This was his Mum and he would never do anything to hurt or
disrespect her. 
         "He has changed, Barbara," Damien commented quietly. "He isn't
the son we raised, or he would have told us he was home." Ray glared at
him and stepped back from his Mother, who protectively put her arm about
his waist. Damien returned his son's hostility openly. "You let yer Mother
worry over ya all dis time, without a word if yer dead or alive, and den
you come back to Chicago and don't even contact us? What kind of thinking
is dat?" 
         "I was busy, Dad," Ray stated, something in his tone told Damien
to back off but the older man pressed forward. 
         "You came back to dis stinkin' place instead of yer family!" he
accused. "Yer still following dat damn Mountie around by..." A knock on
the door interrupted them and Fraser peered inside. 
         "Please, forgive my intrusion," he offered politely as he
exchanged a supportive gaze with his partner.   "Leftenant Welsh needs to
see us, Ray." 
         "Um...tell him I'll be there in just a few minutes, Ben," Ray
requested. He bent to kiss his Mother's cheek affectionately, before
steering her toward the Canadian. "Mum, let Fraser get ya some coffee,
okay? I gotta talk to Dad." 
         Barbara Kowalski hesitated, even as she smiled at Fraser.  It was
strange to see him out of uniform, but she had always liked the Mountie.
He was good to her son, despite what her husband always said. She reached
up and patted Ray's cheek. 
         "All right, sweetheart," she agreed easily, then her eyes
flickered toward Damien. "If you chase our son away with any more of your
ramblings, Damien Kowalski you will have me to deal with." Ray and his
father stared at her, both surprised, as Fraser fought the smile tugging
at his lips. Bravo, Madam, he encouraged silently, as he offered his arm
to her. 
         "Shall we, Mrs. Kowalski?" he suggested and she wrapped her
smaller arm around his. 
         "You're so sweet and polite," she commented delighted, as he
guided her out. "Do you have a girlfriend, young man, someone who can cook
for you? You're entirely too thin and..." Ray closed the door with a shake
of his head and turned back to his father. 
         "Yer wrong, Dad," he insisted quietly. "You were wrong about me
and Fraser and you were wrong about me being a cop." 
         Ray glanced at his father and saw the older man's temper was
barely in check. He didn't want to disrespect his father, he didn't want
to hurt him, but he was left with little choice. 
         "You got hurt, just like I said ya would," Damien growled. "How
was I wrong about you bein' a cop den? I just wanted you to have a better
life, Son. What is wrong wit dat?" 
         "What's wrong with the life I have now?" Ray implored angrily. 
         "You don't even remember dat life, son!" Damien reminded him
firmly, and Ray willed himself not to flinch. 
         "I'm learning," he informed, quietly. "Even if I don't remember
everything, people tell me I was a good cop, Dad. I've seen my file, I've
helped a lot of people; gotten a lot of scum off the street." 
         "And gotten hurt a dozen ways because of it, Godamnit!" Damien
stated furiously. "You let dat Mountie lead you into any kind of
situation...he's careless of his own life because he has no one to love
him, son. Dat doesn't give him the right to be careless with your life,
because you do." 
         "Benton Fraser does have someone who loves him, Dad," Ray
protested. "I love him." He ignored his father's shocked gaze. "And before
ya go off the deep end, it ain't like dat either! I haven't changed dat
much. I love Ben because he's my friend and my partner..." 
         "Because, he says he is..." Damien implored and Ray shook his
head. 
         "Because, of who he is. He is a great man, Dad," Ray insisted.
"Ben's the kindest, most sincere, most...honest person I have ever known.
He finds the good in everyone," Ray's eyes narrowed. "Even you. He
defended you, Dad. You tried to destroy our friendship and he still
defended you. Do you have any idea how lucky I am to have a friend like
dat, to know that he feels the same way about me, the skinny little Polack
from the West Side of Chicago? Dat's a gift, Dad, to have him as my
friend. Ben would do anything fer me and I feel the same way. Why can't
you just accept dat?" 
         "He's not yer family, Son!" Damien exclaimed. "You shouldn't be
closer to anyone den ya are yer family!" 
         "So he's not blood related," Ray scoffed. "Who cares? You can't
help who ya love, Dad, and you and Mum brought me up to be a very
respectful and loving kid. Now you condemn me because I'm not afraid to
show how I feel?" 
         "It upsets yer Mother..." his father began and Ray cut him off. 
         "Mum knows I love her more den life itself, Dad," he stated
firmly. "Fraser knows dat, Stella knows dat, even my Lieutenant knows my
Mum comes first, so don't give me dat crap!" 
         "Now see here..." Damien stammered furious, but Ray continued. 
         "It doesn't upset Mum to see me happy, it doesn't upset her to
know I love other people," he decided. "I think it...it upsets you, Dad.
Yer pissed because we're not dat close. I think yer jealous." 
         "Yer talkin' nonsense," Damien sneered, but Ray could see his
father was getting rattled. "Yer my son, no one else's. I got no reason to
be jealous. There's nothing wrong with our relationship." Ray chuckled in
disbelief. 
         "I guess I'm not the only one dat has pieces of his memory
missin'," he chided and Damien flushed. "Look, I don't have time fer dis,
I got a job to do and I'm gonna do it." He, Fraser, Welsh and Elaine had
been working around the clock and exhaustion was finally creeping up on
Ray.  "Stay here or go home, I don't care, but yer not gonna screw wit my
head again and try to change who I am." 
         "Raymond..." Damien began, suddenly worried he had gone too far,
but Ray was already pulling open the door and striding out. 
         "Stanley!" his Mother called as she and Fraser made their way
back from the break room. Ray smiled because she was wearing the
Mounties's Stetson. It was entirely too big for her but she seemed pleased
as punch to have it. "What do you think, honey? Maybe I'll become a
Mountie?" 
         "I think you have ta be Canadian fer dat, Mum," he chuckled and
bent to receive her hug, as Damien stepped out of the room and watched
them somberly. 
         "She is quite fetching in my hat, though, Ray," Fraser offered
smiling. "Don't you agree?" 
         "Yer beautiful, as always," he assured his Mother fondly, and she
blushed and swatted him playfully. She pulled the Stetson off and adjusted
it on her son's head. 
         "Oh my!" she gasped and Ray smirked, as his eyes rolled upwards
toward the wide brim. "That really suits you, Stanley. Don't you think so,
Benton?" Fraser nodded and it was Ray's turn to blush. 
         "You do carry it off, well, Ray," the Mountie offered. Ray
quickly pulled the hat off and handed it to Fraser, embarrassed. He ran
his hand through his hair restoring it to its usual disorderly state. 
         "We have to get to work, Mum," he told her, ignoring his father.
"I'll call you later, okay?" 
         "You promise?' she demanded and he nodded. "Okay." She kissed him
goodbye. "Go take care of whatever you have to do then. It's very late and
you should both  be home in bed, so don't take too long. Remember your
Mother loves you." 
         "I love you too, Mum," he vowed and waved as Damien took his wife
by the arm and escorted her out, without even a backward glance. 
         "Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser inquired gently and his partner
nodded. 
         "Let's go see Welsh," 
  
  

         They would have to wait until morning to acquire the warrant they
needed to further their case, so everyone headed home for some much needed
sleep. Ray and Fraser awoke a few hours later, around six, with their
stomachs growling. They decided to go for breakfast at a diner, that was
opened around the clock, and that featured a nice view of the lake. Ray
was barely picking at his food, obviously lost in thought. Fraser tried to
give his partner some space, he knew Ray was still trying to deal with his
own circumstances and feelings. Fraser had been proud of the way his
friend had handled the confrontation with his parents, but despite Ray's
bravado, he knew the Detective was very upset and confused. 
         Finally Ray pushed his plate away and stood, retrieving his coat
from the back of his chair. 
         "I'm gonna take a walk, Buddy," he announced quietly, throwing
some money and his car keys on the table. "Take the car back to the
station, I'll meet you there, okay?" 
         "Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser asked concerned. Ray started to
nod then shook his head. 
         "I...I don't know," he admitted honestly. "I got some thinkin' to
do. Okay?" Fraser nodded. 
         "Understood," he replied, though still concerned for his partner.
"Why not take Dief with you? He'd enjoy the exercise." Ray smirked, he
could see right through that offer. He knew the Mountie worried, though,
so he nodded and waved for Dief to follow. 
         "Sure," he decided. "We'll keep each other out of trouble."
Fraser smiled, not the least bit surprise that Ray had understood his
ruse. 
         Ray and Diefenbaker left the diner and headed north. He didn't
really know where he was going, he just needed to walk. He strolled by the
lake, then through the park. A young woman, out for her morning jog, had
settled on one of the benches. She had one of those new walkmans, with a
speaker included for joint listening, and she had pulled off her
earphones; allowing her music to be heard. She smiled at him as a slow
song drifted through the small device. Ray found a stick for Dief to play
fetch with and was drawn to the music. 
  
  
  

This used to be my playground 
This used to be my childhood dream 
This used to be the place I ran to 
Whenever I was in need 
Of a friend 
Why did it have to end 
And why do they always say 
Don't look back 
Keep your head held high 
Don't ask them why 
Because life is short 
And before you know 
You're feeling old 
And your heart is breaking 
Don't hold on to the past 
Well that's too much to ask 

         Visions of picnics in this park with his parents and tossing a
football around with his older brother flooded him. All the childhood
competitions he'd had with Joe Thomas, over who could run the fastest, or
who could walk the rail fences longer without falling; climbing trees
together to get a better look at the girls who walked by.  

Live and learn 
Well the years they flew 
And we never knew 
We were foolish then 
We would never tire 
And that little fire 
Is still alive in me 
It will never go away 
Can't say goodbye to yesterday 
No regrets 
But I wish that you 
Were here with me 
Well then there's hope yet 
I can see your face 
In our secret place 
You're not just a memory 
Say goodbye to yesterday [the dream] 
Those are words I'll never say [I'll never say] 

         Long, romantic walks with Stella, settling under their favorite
tree to study for finals. He'd proposed to her by the water fountain,
getting down on one knee and declaring his love for her before the other
patrons of the park. They used to hike and ride their bikes in the hills
at the edge of the city. Driving for an hour, just so they could stop on
their favorite bridge and admire the breathtaking view of Chicago in the
evening.  

This used to be my playground [used to be] 
This used to be our pride and joy 
This used to be the place we ran to 
That no one in the world could dare destroy 
This used to be our playground [used to be] 
This used to be our great escape 
This used to be the place we ran to 

         God, how he loved this city. It seemed like a living thing to Ray
and he would always be protective of it. Perhaps that was why he had
become a cop in the first place. Now things had changed and he had lost a
very valuable part of himself. A part that everyone else seemed to crave
and that he no longer could deliver.  

This used to be our secret hiding place 
This used to be our playground [used to be] 
This used to be our childhood dream 
This used to be the place we ran to 
The best things in life are always free 
Wishing you were here with me 

         Maybe he was trying too hard to be what others wanted. Maybe he
should just be himself, as he knew how to be. Everything he knew was in
his past, all the great times, as well as all the problems. He might never
be what his father expected him to be. He may never be the partner he was
to Fraser or the husband he was to Stella. 
         He sighed and glanced toward Diefenbaker, who was frolicking in a
snow bank, searching for the stick Ray had tossed. He wished he had the
wolf's penchant to just be himself and forget all his other woes. He
pulled out his police ID and studied it, ignoring Vecchio's name. 
         It was his badge, he was Fraser's partner now, and he was a good
cop. He was learning to be a good friend and, even if he wasn't the best
husband to Stella before, he could change that too if she let him. Most
important he was a good son, he loved his folks, cherished them, and it
didn't matter anymore if they accepted him as the man he was, or continued
to dream of whom he could be. He would be there for his folks, as he
always had been, that's what loving someone was all about. 
         Another song began, a disco hit Ray remembered from school, and
he found himself mouthing the familiar tune. He nodded and slipped his ID
back into his pocket, then tried to get the wolf's attention. He would
survive too just like the woman singing on the radio, what else could he
do? 
  
  
  

         Fraser had shown his partner how to wear a shoulder holster and
Ray ha dpulled it on that morning before they had left the apartment. His
instincts had seemed to click when it came to loading his gun and placing
it inside the holster correctly. He also decided to wear the ankle
holster, because he was feeling more comfortable around the weapons now.
Fraser was happy to see his friend looking so much like his old self.
There were a few new things about his partner that the Mountie was still
adjusting to, but that was okay, it just made Ray that much more
interesting. 
         They had the warrant, now they just had to make the arrest. Joe
Clark had been one of the people who had been at the jewelry store the day
Fraser and Ray had started their investigation. Ray had recognized the
patrol issued boots and suspected that it had been a cop, but he hadn't
connected the voice to Joe Clark when they first spoke to him.  Elaine had
been appalled, shocked, saddened, and then, angry when she learned of her
partner's involvement in the plot against her. She had been reinstated
after Welsh and Kowalski had gone to IA with their evidence. With Joe
Clark's confession, they only had one more thing to take care of, and that
was to arrest the real murderer of Mike Dawson. 
         Ray's GTO pulled up to the Dawson's residence, along with Huey
and Dewey and two agents from IA. It was Ray's show, however; only he,
Fraser and Elaine walked up to knock on the door. Ruthie Jones answered
and frowned at them. 
         "I told you to stay away from my client, Detective Vecchio," she
growled. Ray smiled and showed her the warrant. 
         "I'm afraid I can't do dat, Ms. Jones," he refused smugly. "I'm
here to arrest yer client." Jones gaped at him in shock, then started to
laugh in disbelief. 
         "You can't be serious!" she declared. "On what charge?" 
         "Murder one," Ray replied calmly and Jones grabbed the warrant
from his hand. 
         "This is insane!" she protested. "Cynthia Dawson is the victim in
this, Detective. You obviously have your signals crossed." Ray looked past
her, not an easy feat, to the small woman that stood just inside the door.

         "Do we have our signals crossed, Mrs. Dawson?" he asked gently
and she shook her head remorsefully. 
        Ruthie Jones turned to gape at her, allowing the opening Ray
needed to move into the home. Cynthia didn't resist him as he stepped up
to her and asked her to turn around. He noticed she wore a simple black
mini dress today and Ray glanced at the familiar, small silver charm on
the woman's left ankle. 
         "M...My children," she managed quietly. "They're in school,
can...can someone be here to watch them when they come home?" Ray nodded
and glanced back toward the Attorney. Jones nodded grimly, she would take
care of getting someone there. 
          "Cynthia Dawson," Ray began, almost gently. "You are under
arrest fer the murder of yer husband Mike Dawson. You have the right to
remain silent..." 
         "I don't understand any of this," Ruthie admitted to Fraser as
she listened to Ray reading her client her rights. Ray moved past her to
bring Cynthia to his car. "Don't say anything, Cynthia. I'll meet you at
the station." 
  
  
  

         At the station, while Cynthia was being booked, Fraser, Elaine,
Ray, Stella, and Ruthie Jones were in Welsh's office discussing the
arrest. Welsh sat in his chair, Ray was perched on the corner of the desk
with Fraser behind him. The three women stood together before them. 
         "Mrs. Dawson was abused by her husband," Fraser began.
"Apparently she also knew about his penchant for other women. She started
following her husband and saw that he had staked out another female
target. Mrs. Dawson learned Officer Besbriss' patrol area, where she lived
and the type of weapon she used from her husband's notes" 
         "Your client was in the store the day my partner and I went
there," Elaine continued sadly. "She knew her husband was using the store
to move money and stolen goods illegally, and about my partner, Officer
Clark's involvement. She blackmailed Clark to help her get rid of her
husband once and for all." 
         "Clark arranged a time to stop at the deli just up the street
from Mr. Dawson's store, and claimed he had received a call over the radio
of a possible break in," Fraser supplied. "Mrs. Dawson had insisted her
husband take her to the shop that day to pick out a gift for her sister's
birthday." 
         "So Clark and Cynthia set Officer Besbriss up to shoot Dawson?"
Ruthie concluded disturbed. 
         "Actually, Officer Besbriss did return fire," Fraser added.
"However, Dawson was already dead at that point. Mrs. Dawson had shot her
husband with the same make of gun and ammunition that Officer Besbriss
uses, then fired at her when she entered through the back. Officer
Besbriss couldn't see who was firing at her, but was forced to return fire
anyway and actually missed." 
         "We went back to the store and found these," Ray replied, holding
up a small evidence bag that contained two spent bullets. "These were the
ones Elaine fired. Clark had placed a picture over the bullet holes, so
they were missed during the initial investigation. Mrs. Dawson had shot
her husband twice in the chest then hid in the closet." 
         "When Clark came in, he deliberately steered clear of the
closet," Elaine supplied. "But it didn't dawn on me there might be anyone
in there. All I knew was that when the lights came on I thought I had shot
Dawson and Clark took me outside to calm down. He went back in to secure
the area, so he said, and I guess sometime during then Mrs. Dawson left
the store and Clark covered my bullet holes in the wall. By the time
forensics got there, it seemed pretty much cut and dried." 
         "I knew somethin' was queer when Cynthia came to see us at the
station a couple of days ago," Ray commented, watching the counselor's
eyes widen in surprise. "She brought us Dawson's ledgers, to make us
suspect dat her husband was no good, guess killing him wasn't enough." 
         "She also produced pictures of Officer Besbriss that Dawson had
taken," Fraser allowed. " She claimed she was having second thoughts about
her suit against Officer Besbriss, but we suspect she believed they would
have proved more damaging to her husband, so she turned them over. The
photos proved that Dawson was stalking her so Officer Besbriss would have
a clearer motive to kill him." 
         "I can't believe I was so stupid!" Ruthie Jones groaned. "She
seemed so distraught so...timid." 
         "Most abused women are," Elaine offered. "Sometimes it doesn't
take much to push them over the edge." 
          "Well, thank you for the explanation, but so far, I haven't
heard anything that convinces me that my client is guilty," Jones said,
although her tone had lost much of its conviction.  "I better get
downstairs, Cynthia will need a lawyer now, more than ever." "I'll go with
you," Stella decided, as Ray straightened from his perch. "Perhaps I can
get her a deal because of the extenuating circumstances." Jones nodded to
Welsh as she and Stella headed out." Fraser and Ray walked with them
toward holding. Ray stepped in front of Jones, just before they got to the
steps, and rocked back on his heels to smirk at her. 
         "So, you got somethin' ya wanna say to me?" he suggested smugly
and she shot him an instant look of dislike. The temptation to push him
over the stairs was not lost on her. 
         "I will not apologize for trying to protect my client," she
refused, primly. 
         "I'm not asking' ya to apologize fer dat," Ray assured grinning.
"But ya could admit we were right about Elaine." 
         "Why?" she demanded. "You were doing your job, I was doing mine.
You could have easily been wrong." 
         "But I wasn't and you can't handle dat, can ya?" 
         "I am not bothered in the least one way or the other, Detective,"
she decided firmly, annoyed for allowing him to get to her. "Now get out
of my way before I walk through you." 
         "Are you threatening me, again?" Ray inquired easily. "I could
arrest you fer dat." Her eyes narrowed on him. 
         "You and what army?" she questioned, straightening her shoulders
and staring down at him. Ray grinned and that only proved to increase her
irritation. 
         "Nah," he refused, his eyes glittering mischievously, levering
himself up a little higher, just to tease her about her height. "You'd
probably enjoy it to much. Hand cuffed, manhandled, frisked, all the
really fun things to get ya excited." 
         For a moment Jones didn't respond, then a slow grin spread across
her lips. She grabbed Ray's face between her hands and pulled him forward
to capture his mouth in an impulsively, passionate kiss. She released him
just as quickly and could see that she had finally managed to rattle him.
She wet her lips intentionally and watched him shiver slightly. 
         "Promises, promises, Detective," she purred, as Ray continued to
stand there, in shock. 
         "Counselor," Stella Kowalski interrupted, suddenly. "Before we go
down to holding, would you mind coming with me to the ladies room, then we
can go see your client together." 
         "Certainly," Jones agreed, continuing to leer at Ray
suggestively. Why fight it, the man was a babe. She followed the Assistant
State's Attorney into the washroom and Stella closed the door. 
         A moment later there was the God-awful sound of squealing inside
the washroom and Fraser and Ray had moved to stand outside the door,
curious as to what was going on inside.. Loud thumping, banging, and
grunting continued to echo from the room and soon the Duck boys and a few
other people had stopped to stare at the door perplexed. Francesca Vecchio
walked up and Ray caught her arm. 
         "Um...Frannie," he suggested. "Maybe you should..." she shook his
arm off smiling. 
         "No way, fella," she refused and continued to walk away. "I know
better than to interrupt a cat fight." 
         "Cat fight?" Ray repeated surprised. "What the hell would they be
fighting about?" 
         "Someone should really go in there," Dewey commented, as there
was a particularly loud screech from the lavatory. 
         Finally the door opened and the men scrambled backwards. Stella
Kowalski stepped out, smoothing the wrinkles out of her pristine, pale
blue suit skirt, and barely a hair out of place. She nodded to Fraser,
retrieved a handkerchief from her purse, and wiped Jones's lipstick from
her ex-husband's mouth. 
         "Call me tomorrow and maybe we'll have that lunch date," she
suggested calmly.  Jones finally stepped out of the room, one heal broken,
a tear in the shoulder of her blouse, her makeup running from having water
thrown in her face and her hair a mess. She attempted to compose herself,
as she limped on her one good heel. 
         "I apologize for my unwarranted contact with you, Detective," she
offered quietly, picking sheet rock dust, from the walls, out of her hair.
"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen." She limped away, her posture held
rigidly, as she tried to restore order to her hair and clothes. Stella had
already headed down stairs and Ray and Fraser were in shock. Fraser was
the first to recover and placed his hands on his partner's shoulders. 
         "Come along, Ray," Fraser smiled, Dewey was giggling hysterically
at what they had witnessed. "Let's get you home and rested. You've had a
long couple of days." 
         "A cold shower wouldn't hurt either, I'll bet," Huey teased and
Ray started to smile. 
         "I think she likes me," he grinned, without sarcasm this time,
though whether he was referring to Stella or Ruthie, no one could be sure.

  
  
  

         After his confrontation with his father, Ray was very upset and
needed Mrs. Baker's unconditional love and understanding, so he had called
to see how she and Mr. Baker were doing. A neighbor had been watching the
place and feeding the cat and had answered the telephone. She had told Ray
that the Bakers had headed into Chicago to surprise him for Christmas, but
that Mr. Baker called yesterday and said his wife had suffered a heart
attack on the trip down. The woman told Ray that they had taken her to St.
Francis hospital. 
         They found a very haggard looking John Baker coming out of one of
the ICU rooms later that day. The older man had been grateful to see them
both and had quickly explained what had happened. Fraser had taken John to
the cafeteria to get something to eat and possibly convince him to sleep,
since he looked exhausted. 
         Ray had stayed with Mrs. Baker and the disheartening sight of the
older woman was almost too much for the Detective. Mary Ann Baker's usual
rosy complexion had turned a somber gray. Still he stuck with it, he and
Fraser taking turns talking to the older woman, in an attempt to coax her
to wake up. Mr. Baker had been much better after they had gotten him to
take a nap, though he was still sick with worry. 
         The Kowalski's had called and asked Ray to come to Christmas
dinner, since it was only two days away, but Ray had politely declined and
explained to his Mother why he couldn't make it. Barbara accepted his
reason, but Damien had been angry and had started yelling at his son
again. Ray couldn't be bothered by his father's tantrum and actually hung
up on the older man. 
         Now, it was Christmas Eve and Ray and Fraser returned to the
hospital, after they had left to shower and change. Ray had found a
tabletop tree and some decorations that were in his apartment, so he set
it up in Mrs. Baker's room. Fraser had set up a small portable stereo to
play Christmas carols and had purchased some holly to hang around the room
for effect. They had even tied a big red bow around Diefenbaker, for Mary
Ann to see when she awoke. The wolf was being surprisingly complacent and
Fraser was grateful to him. 
         Since Mrs. Baker couldn't leave to go somewhere for Christmas,
they were bringing it to her. Even Lieutenant Welsh showed up with some
eggnog and a meat and vegetable tray that he had picked up at a local
deli, which they left in the waiting room. They took turns visiting with
Mary Ann, each offering their little bit of Christmas spirit 
         Ray was reading to her from Dickens, A Christmas Carol, perched
in the chair beside her bed, wearing his glasses and a festive green
sweater for the season. He glanced up when he heard a quiet voice by the
door, and was surprised to find Stella standing there. He saved his place
in the book and rose as she tentatively entered. 
         "Hi," he greeted shyly. "W...what are you doin' here, Stell?" 
         "I...your Mother told me what happened," she offered kindly. "I'm
sorry for your friend, Ray. Will...do they think she'll pull through?" 
         "She'll pull through," Ray decided firmly. "She's strong, she'll
be just fine. Um... they have some food and stuff in the waiting area..." 
         "I didn't come here for that, Ray," she dismissed. Ray tried to
ignore his hammering heart as she moved closer. She was a vision in her
long green raglan and red sequined dress. "I just wanted to see if you
were okay." 
         "I'm fine, Stell," he assured, quietly, glancing at Mary Ann.
"It's Mrs. B. I'm worried about. She's been great to me, Stell, I don't
want..." He lowered his eyes and grew quiet again. Stella moved closer and
placed a hand on his arm. 
         "I'm sure she'll be fine, Ray," she promised softly. "Like you
said, she's strong." Ray nodded. "Would...may I stay with you awhile?" His
head shot up surprised as he met her gaze. 
         "You don't have to, Stella," he protested. "I'm sure ya
have...plans." Stella shook her head. 
         "No, I don't," she denied. That was mostly true, she had
cancelled her date with the senator to be here with her ex-husband. "May I
stay, help bring in the Christmas spirit? Maybe your Mrs. B. would like
some female company for a change." 
         "Oh Stell," Ray whispered and pulled her into his embrace. "I
love you. Dis means...dis means a lot to me." She returned his embrace
just as firmly. 
         "I know, baby. That's why I'm here." She smiled, her eyes shining
suspiciously, and stepped back. "How about I read to her for awhile, you
go get something to eat?" 
         "Um..." Ray hesitated, looked back at the beloved woman, and
nodded. "Okay but...but you'll come get me if..." Stella nodded and gave
him a gentle push toward the door, after taking the book. 
         "I'll let you know if there's any change," she promised,  "now
go." 
         Ray leaned down to kiss her, then returned to kiss Mary Ann's
cheek, before heading out. He was surprised to enter the waiting room,
where John, Fraser, and Welsh were all trying to keep the festive spirit
alive, to find his parents. Barbara hurried over, as was her way, and
immediately had to get her hug. 
         "Oh Stanley," she greeted. "How is she, honey? Is there any
change? Oh the poor woman. You look tired, Stanley, are you eating? Have
you slept at all? Your father and I were on our way home from church and
we wanted to stop and wish you a Merry Christmas." 
         "Merry Christmas, Mum," Ray returned and straightened from their
hug. 
         "Can I talk to you fer a minute, Son?" Damien requested quietly
and Ray tried not to show his apprehension at being alone with his father
again. 
         He released a long, slow, breath, not really in the mood for
another confrontation. His eyes met Fraser's across the room and he
gathered strength from the Mounties's encouraging gaze. Finally, he nodded
to his father. 
         "Sure Dad," he decided. 
         Walking out of the waiting room, he headed further down the hall
toward a window, to allow them privacy. His father followed quietly and
didn't speak until he was standing next to his son. Ray folded his arms
defensively across his chest and leaned up against the window, keeping his
eyes on the floor. 
         "Raymond, I'd like you to come home with us," Damien stated. "Yer
Mother is going to fix a big dinner for tomorrow and she wants you to be
there for Christmas morning." 
         "I can't, Dad," Ray replied quietly. "I already explained dat to
Mum and to you." 
         "Look, " his father began frustrated. "I understand you feel
affection fer dis woman, but she is not yer family." 
         "Don't start on dat again, Dad," Ray warned, impatiently, and
lifted his eyes to meet Damien's gaze. "We've been down dat road already."

         "It's Christmas, Raymond!" Damien insisted. "Now, I know you
probably don't remember but we've missed a lot of Christmases with you
over the years. This year, with everything else that's happened, yer
Mother wants you with her. As her son, how can ya deny her dat?" 
         "I'm not denying her..." Ray protested but Damien cut him off. 
         "Fer God's sake, Raymond!" he declared exasperated. "Can't you
just do dis one thing? Do you have to refuse everything I ask of you? I am
yer father, show some respect fer a change. If not fer me den fer yer
Mother." 
         Ray was silent for a long time. When he finally did speak his
voice was sad and wistful. 
         "Ya know somethin' Dad? All I ever wanted was to make you proud
of me. I never wanted to go against yer wishes or do somethin' ya didn't
want me to do." He shook his head regretfully.  "But, these past few
weeks, I finally realized, I don't care if yer ever proud of me. I'm proud
of me, Dad. I'm proud of the person I was before, even if I don't remember
him, and I'm proud of the person I am now. Know why? Because I'm not gonna
spend my life lookin' fer yer idea of happiness and fulfillment.  Maybe
losing' my memory was the best thing dat ever happened to me." 
         "How can you say dat!" his father demanded. "For the love of God,
Son. No one should have to go through what you have." Ray, touched by his
father's concern, Ray, touched by his father's concern, was still unable
to dispel the damage that Damien's words had delivered. 
         "I'm not sayin' it ain't been hell, Dad," he admitted. "But it's
shown me things dat...I...I suspect I might not have had the confidence to
recognize before. I got a good job helpin' people and I'm good at it. I
got great friends who have supported me and shown me how much dey like me,
by just sticking wit me through this. It couldn't be easy fer any of them,
knowin' I don't remember 'em. Maybe I will find another woman like Stella
to make me a little bit happier. Mostly I have two very special parents
that I love so much, dat sometimes I just wanna weep at the joy of bein'
yer son." 
         "Raymond," his father croaked, shocked and Ray saw the beginning
of tears in his father's eyes. 
         "I'll never be able to explain how much you and Mum mean to me,"
Ray continued, his own eyes suspiciously moist. "There are no words to
express it. But I will explain that the woman in dat bed in there has been
my comfort, my light in these past few weeks of darkness, and I will not
let her down. I will be here fer her like she was fer me because dat's
what loving someone is, Dad. Ya have to be there fer dem, support 'em
during good and bad times." 
         Damien Kowalski stared at his son as if seeing him for the first
time. He could not believe the things that Ray was saying to him, and he
didn't know how to respond. They never talked about this emotional stuff,
what was a father to do? He still wanted to protect Ray, he couldn't help
that, but how could he stay angry with someone that was so willing to put
his own heart on the line for what he believed? He was startled when Ray
stepped forward and kissed his cheek affectionately. 
         "I don't care if ya never settle with me bein' a cop, or accept
me as the man I am," he murmured. "It's not all dat I am. I'm yer son, too
and dat holds a lot more weight in my heart. Maybe one day you'll accept
the both of us." 
         Ray lowered his eyes and turned around to head back toward Mrs.
Baker's room as his father stared after him. Damien shook his head sadly
and headed back to retrieve his wife. 
         At the door of the waiting room, he saw that Barbara was chatting
with Stella and Fraser. John Baker spotted Damien and walked over to
extend his hand warmly. 
         "You must be Ray's father," he greeted. "I'm John Baker, Ray
calls me Mr. B.," he smiled as Damien slowly shook his hand. "Can't get
him to call me John, says his folks always told him it was disrespectful
to refer to his elders by their first name. 
         "He...it was how he was raised," Damien admitted, uneasily. 
         "He's a fine boy, you must be so proud of him," John continued,
unaware of Damien's discomfort. "He helped us repair our property, we own
some small cabins that we rent out to the tourists during the summer. Ray
was honest, said he didn't know much about repair, but all I had to do was
tell him what needed to be done and there he was, doing it." 
         "That so?" Damien muttered, trying to catch his wife's attention
so they could leave. He certainly did not want to stand here talking to
this man about Ray, but John seemed oblivious to Damien's mood. 
         "Don't see many young men nowadays that are so willing to work at
hard labor," John insisted cheerfully. "And he's so polite and tender
hearted, he and my wife really hit it off. Ray and I were fixing up my old
truck and he told me all about the car you two built. Said it was the best
time of his life." 
         "Raymond said dat?" Damien asked, startled, and John nodded. 
         "Oh yes, he talked about you both," he insisted with a fond
smile. "We could see how much he loved and respected you both. We lost one
son to the war and our other son never comes to see us. It's wonderful to
meet a man who is not afraid to show how much he cares about his folks, to
the point of bragging he was." 
         "Really?" Damien was astounded. He would never have thought Ray
would talk about him and Barbara, especially him. They never got along
that well, it seemed. 
         "A great chess player too, a real strategist," John confirmed and
Damien gaped at him. Ray, playing chess? That was a game of mental skill,
Ray had never seemed to be able to concentrate on anything. Yet, this man
claimed his son was good at it. 
         "You...he played chess with you?" Damien repeated and John nodded
with a smile. 
         "And cards and checkers and whatever else I could find for him to
play," he chuckled. "He was very accommodating to an old man's boredom I
suppose. Of course he also fixed our property fence, the cabins, rewired a
few things, he was wonderful." 
         "Ray did all dat?" Damien croaked. 
         "And more," John insisted. "Of course, he had some problems, what
with his memory and everything and the terrible headaches he got. He gave
us quite the scare when he caught pneumonia." 
         "What!" Damien gasped. His son had been terribly sick and had not
even called to tell them. 
         "Oh, but Benton and Mary Ann took great care of him," John
assured quickly. "Ray wouldn't go to the hospital, so they did what they
could there. Ray pulled through real well and then, he wasn't even quite
better, when he took off to help that young officer friend of his." John
shook his head affectionately. "He's very loyal to the people he loves, he
must get that from you, Sir." Damien blinked. "He's been a godsend for my
Mary Ann." 
         "I...It was real nice to meet you," Damien finally stammered and
waved at his wife. "We have to go." John nodded in understanding and
watched them leave. 
         As they passed the ICU room that held Mrs. Baker, Damien Kowalski
paused and glanced inside. Ray was back to reading from his book of
Dickens, his soft voice no doubt a comfort to the woman beside him, even
though she was not yet awake. 
         "My dad used to read this to us every year when we were little,
Mrs. B.,"  Ray paused to explain. "It was my favorite part of Christmas,
because I got to sit on his lap, or close to him, and help him read it. I
liked bein' close to him, but he was...well he wasn't much for showing
affection." Ray shrugged. "That's okay though, I just looked forward to
Christmas that much more." 
         Ray continued reading and Damien Kowalski lowered his eyes and
moved past the room, unseen. 
  
  
  

         Fraser stared out at the gently falling snow, as the sun rose in
the horizon, then moved away from the window. He smiled at the sight of
his partner, curled up on the small sofa, asleep, his head in Stella's
lap. Welsh was snoring quietly in a chair in the corner, Dief at his feet,
also snoring. Fraser had covered Ray with the detective's longer raglan,
so he wouldn't get a chill. It was a little after six on Christmas Morning
and they had been there all night. He had been surprised that Stella and
Welsh had stayed for the duration, both claiming they had nowhere better
to be. Stella Kowalski had drifted off at some point, sitting up, her
fingers coiled through Ray's blond hair. 
         "She's awake!" John Baker crowed suddenly, poking his head into
the waiting room. 
    He had been sitting with his wife when she had suddenly awakened and
smiled at him. He had called the nurse in and she quickly located the
Doctor. They checked Mary Ann's vitals and pulled her  off the respirator,
because she was breathing well on her own. John had waited impatiently
until they had finished fussing over his wife then he moved to sit beside
her. They had been talking a good while, when Mary Ann commented on the
lovely decorations in her room. Jack, suddenly, remembered the other
people waiting outside who also cared so much for his wife and he had
rushed out to tell them the good news. 
         Ray and Welsh bolted awake, Stella slept on, undisturbed. Perhaps
Ray had been correct in reporting that it would take an act of God to get
his ex-wife out of bed; she did seem to be a sound sleeper. 
         "She's awake!" Ray repeated, eagerly, and quickly lowered his
voice. He rose, carefully, lay Stella across the sofa and placed his coat
over her as he moved toward Mr. Baker. "How is she? Is she okay?" 
         "She's fine!" John nodded, unashamed at the tears that slid down
his cheeks, as he accepted an enthusiastic hug from the Detective. "Go see
her, she's thrilled with all the things you put in her room." Ray grinned
and glanced at Fraser, who moved with him, as Welsh stood to congratulate
John on his wife's recovery. 
         Mary Ann brightened immediately upon the pair's arrival and held
her arms out toward them weakly. They each gave her a careful hug and
kiss. Her color was slightly improved and she seemed in good spirits. 
         "John said you did this for me," she commented, indicating the
festive decorations in her room. "Thank you Sweetcakes. Did I scare you?" 
         "Nah," Ray lied. "Just don't do it again!" she giggled and Ray's
heart leapt in his chest. He was so glad she was okay. 
         "How do you feel, Mrs. Baker?" Fraser inquired kindly and she
smiled at him. 
         "Tired," she admitted, then reached for Ray's hand, and squeezed
it. "But loved." He grinned back. "Now why aren't you with your folks?
John tells me it's Christmas day." 
         "I...I didn't want to leave you," Ray admitted. "I wanted to
spend Christmas with you. Mr. B. said you were coming down to see me
and..." 
         "Of course we were," she agreed, "but, that was for Christmas
Eve, you have a family, Stanley Ray. You should be with them today." His
gaze hardened. 
         "My dad still doesn't understand..." he protested and she waved
his words away. 
         "Of course he doesn't," she confirmed. "He's old, like me, we're
set in our ways, honey. Now, go to him, tell him you love him, ignore
everything else he says and wish him a Merry Christmas." 
         "But..." 
         "No arguments," she warned. "You can come and visit me later. Go
on now. Don't make me get out of this bed and take you over my knee." Ray
smiled and bent to kiss her cheek. Ray pulled the St. Christopher's medal
from around his neck and gently fastened it around her. 
         "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow dis. It helped a lot." He whispered
in her ear. "I love you, Mrs. B."  Mary Ann took the opportunity to ruffle
his hair playfully, and smiled as returned his bracelet, which she had
asked John to retrieve from her purse earlier. 
         "I love you too, Sweetcakes," she assured as she tried to fasten
it around his wrist with shaking fingers. Ray pulled his hand away and
surprised her by securing it on her own wrist. It was too big for her tiny
wrist, and she could almost wear it as an anklet, but she was touched by
his gesture. 
         "You keep it," he requested softly, "at least until you get out
of here; it will bring you luck." She blinked back her tears for the
second time and cast him a stern look. 
         "Be off with you, then," she demanded. "Go spend Christmas with
your family." Ray smiled and moved aside as she lifted her cheek toward
Fraser, who bent and kissed her dutifully. 
         "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Baker," he offered smiling and she
returned the sentiment. 
         They left the room, explained to John that they would be back
later, and gathered their things from the waiting area. Stella was awake
and smiling when they entered. She hugged Ray and told him how glad she
was that Mrs. Baker was going to be okay. 
         "Would you like to come to Christmas dinner at Mum and Dad's?" he
inquired and she brightened and agreed. 
         "Would you mind dropping Diefenbaker and myself at the Consulate,
Ray?" Fraser inquired as they headed out of the hospital. Stella had her
own car and he promised to meet her at his folk's trailer. 
         "Yes I would, Ben," Ray replied as the trio slid into the GTO.
Fraser obviously had not expected that and stared at him confused. "Yer
comin' to dinner too." 
 "Ray I don't think..." Fraser began, knowing how Damien Kowalski felt
about him. 
 "Yer comin' buddy," Ray decided as he started the engine. "Deal with it."
Fraser sat back and remained silent, knowing better than to argue. 
 When they arrived at the Kowalski's small lot, Stella was not yet there,
no doubt she had stopped at her apartment to change. They got out and Ray
knocked on the door. He could smell the turkey cooking already and knew
his Mother had probably been up since dawn. She opened the door and threw
her arms around him, surprised. 
         "Any room at the inn?" Ray teased and Barbara's eyes grew moist,
as she pulled them inside the warm and cozy mobile home. 
         "Raymond," Damien greeted surprised, as they entered the small
living area. His father had been brooding in the recliner and rose at
their arrival. 
         "I thought we'd take you up on yer dinner invitation, Dad," Ray
stated hesitantly. "Mrs. B woke up, she's doin' real good." 
         "Oh, Stanley!" Barbara clapped her hands together. "I'm so glad.
Of course you can both stay." Diefenbaker barked and she laughed. "And you
too, of course." Ray was still waiting for his father's response and
Fraser was standing anxiously behind his partner. 
         "I...I thought about what you said, Son," he informed finally.
"Yer right, I...I guess I just never wanted to share you. Yer brother has
no time fer us, I didn't want to lose you too." His voice trembled
slightly. "I was so focused on who I wanted you to be...that I missed the
chance to get to know who you are." 
         "Dad," Ray croaked emotionally. He shook his head, trying to halt
his father's words, knowing  how hard it was for the older man to say
them. 
          "I told myself that if by some miracle you ever spoke to me
again I'd be honest with you, son," Damien paused and Ray was too shocked
to speak. "I love ya, son, and I am very, very proud of you, always have
been. I...I'm sorry I never told you before and I...I accept dat you've
grown into a fine, strong man with responsibilities, and good friends. I
know ya don't need me anymore." 
         Ray stared at him, feeling a sense of disbelief, as well as
relief. Finally he took the first step and moved forward to offer his hand
to his father. 
         "I still need ya, Dad," he promised in a voice wrought with
emotion. "I'll always need you. You and Mum are what keep me goin' and
reminds me of who I am. I am yer son and I am very, very grateful fer dat.
I love you." 
         Barbara wiped at her tears and leaned on Fraser's arm for
support, as she watched her husband and son embrace for the first time in
almost ten years, other than when Ray awoke in the hospital.  Ray's eyes
had closed, his expression showing a kind of rapture at his father's final
acceptance.  The Mounties's own eyes were suspiciously moist, as he
watched them, and he thought of his own father, who hadn't been as brave
as Damien, and never voiced his pride in his son. Damien Kowalski finally
stepped away from his son's arms and extended his hand to Fraser. 
         "Merry Christmas, Benton," he offered and Fraser shook his hand.
"Glad to have you here." 
         "Merry Christmas to you, Sir," Fraser returned, trying not to
show his astonishment. "Thank you for having me." 
         "Hey!" Stella Kowalski declared as she entered the trailer and
took in the scene. "Move outta my way, Mountie, I'm starving!" Everyone
laughed as Fraser quickly stepped aside and allowed her to enter further.
She hugged Barbara and Damien, then captured Ray's hand in hers. "How
about we make the dinner this year?" 
         "Me...you and me?" he asked amazed and she nodded. His smile was
well worth any misgivings she may have felt at suggesting it. "Yah,
Um...if Mum doesn't mind." 
         "Have at it!" Barbara encouraged settling into the recliner with
a flourish and putting her feet up. "Turkey's cooking, you two can do the
rest." 
         "Should we have the paramedics standing by?" Damien teased,
surprising them all. He knew of his ex-daughter in law's lack of ability
in the kitchen. Stella glared at him and tossed her hair haughtily. 
         "Ray won't let me poison any of you," she assured and smiled up
at Ray charmingly. "Will you, lover?" 
         Ray shook his head, unable to speak due to the joy in his heart.
He didn't know what was going on, or if any of this feeling would last,
but right now he had gained acceptance from two of the people that meant
the most to him and it felt wonderful. Stella grabbed Fraser's hand as
well. 
          "You can be on KP duty," she decided and Fraser happily
followed. 
  
  

         The meal was a great success and Fraser had been impressed at his
partner's cooking ability. Afterwards, there were gifts to open and egg
nog to drink. Stella and the Kowalski's all traded tales of past
Christmases, much to Ray's chagrin, for he seemed to be the topic of most
of them, and Fraser listened amused. Honored to be included in their
gathering, Fraser observed the happiness radiating from his partner, as
Stella snuggled next to Ray on the love seat. 
         Finally, the women and Fraser offered to clean up, Damien had
drifted off in his chair with a sated Dief at his feet, and Ray had
stepped outside. Fraser helped the women with the dishes then went to find
his partner. He stepped outside and shrugged into his coat, then headed
toward the small pond where his friend stood, trying to catch snowflakes
on his tongue. The sky had darkened to a deep midnight blue and the
collage of stars brightened his way across the snow. 
         "Ray?" he inquired, closing the distance between them. Ray turned
toward him. "Are you all right?" 
         "I'm good, Buddy," he returned quietly, shoving his hands into
his coat pocket. "Just thinkin'." 
         "Would you like to tell me what you are thinking?" Fraser
inquired politely. 
         "I'm wonderin' if I'll ever be the same," Ray replied. 
         "The same as what, Ray?" 
         "As I was...before...ya know, before I lost my memory?" He
shivered slightly in the cold. "What if my memory never comes back fully?
What if I'm stuck like dis and I don't remember anymore den what I do
now?" 
         "What if you are, Ray?" Fraser challenged. "You've developed a
sense of who you are, without the memories. You know who you were before
and you know who you are now. Will getting all of your memory back change
you from the person you are now? Certainly. Does it matter? Not really". 
         "Don't you want me to be who I was, Ben?" Ray asked honestly.
Fraser glanced away from a moment, then returned his gaze to his partner. 
         "I did at first, Ray," he admitted. "I was sick with the idea
that you seemed different from the man I knew. However, you gave me the
chance to know the person you are now and I like you just as much. Any
change from that, memories or no memories, will not change how I feel
about you. We will still be partners and friends." 
         "Would you even tell me if you didn't feel the same?" Ray
challenged. "I mean, bein' so polite and all, wouldn't it go against some
kind of Mountie code?" Fraser smirked. 
         "My only code is honesty, Ray," he assured, sensing his friend's
doubts. "What can I do to prove to you that I am sincere?" He smiled,
remembering how Ray had reacted to the Buddy Breathing memory. "Shall I
kiss you, Ray? Would you believe me then?" 
         Ray stared at him flabbergasted, until he saw the corners of
Fraser's mouth twitching and he realized the Mountie was teasing him. On
an impulse, he decided to return the sentiment. 
         "Okay," he dared, expecting the Mountie to blush and start
stammering. 
         Fraser barely showed his surprise before his features became
neutral again. He caught Ray's face between his hands and pressed his lips
to his partner's. Just a plain, ordinary kiss, closed mouth, and between
two men. He released his friend and stepped back, waiting for the boom to
fall. Either Ray would laugh it off or he would explode, Fraser was
interested to see what the 'new' Ray would do. 
         "Fraser," Ray began slowly and the Mountie watched him closely. 
         "Yes, Ray?" 
         "Never do that again," Ray warned. Fraser bit the inside of his
cheek to keep from smiling, no sense pressing his luck. 
         "Understood," he agreed, then added. "Not even if you are
drowning, Ray?" His partner was struggling with a smile of his own. 
         "We'll cross dat bridge when we come to it," he decided, then
grew serious. "What if I never completely remember our partnership,
though, Ben? I mean, the way it was before?" Fraser finally smiled. 
         "Perhaps that would be a good thing," he teased. "You won't
remember all the wildly bizarre ways I have tried to endanger your life."
Ray chuckled. Fraser stepped forward and placed his hand on his friend's
shoulder. "Old memories or new memories, Ray, they'll all be precious.
We'll have many more adventures and we'll see them through together." 
         "Because dat's what partners do," Ray surmised softly and Fraser
nodded. 
         "And that's what friends do," he added. "We are a duet, a one-two
punch. I set them up..." 
         "And I knock 'em down," Ray finished shyly, then moved in to give
the Mountie a quick hug. "Thanks, Ben. I love ya, Buddy." 
         "And I you, Ray," Fraser returned. 
  
  

The end. 
visit my web page