Title: All He Holds Dear
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Pairings: M/F Fraser/Thatcher
Warning: this is a torture story, death of a minor character
Author: Kateri Marie
EMail: Trinity160@aol.com

Disclaimer: I just borrowed them for a while to play. I didn't hurt em
(much ;)) I promise! 

Any comments etc. welcome and accepted. In other words, talk to me!!

I guess we'll get to the story now....

maybe...

All He Holds Dear

	"Good night Fraser." Inspector Thatcher said formally, without
looking
at him, fighting with herself to keep from asking where he'd been. "Don't
forget to lock up."	"No, sir. Have a nice evening ma'am." Fraser
responded
as he stood in strict attention at the door following their evening
ritual.
It was one of the constants of their universe. Every night at exactly
seven o'clock, she would leave and say exactly what she just had and
he would respond exactly as he had. Then the two would stare at each
other in the darkness for a long moment, only able to see the others
eyes, each wanting to say so much more. And then the moment would pass,
she would leave, and he would be alone. 	It wasn't so bad. He knew
that.
It could be so much worse. They were learning now. She had called him
Ben the other day. She had been worried when he'd fallen off a moving
bus. His heart thrilled at the thought. But she was the superior officer;
he would do nothing to make her uncomfortable or guilty. So they repeated
the ritual.	After locking up the consulate as he did every night,
Fraser
returned to his small office and removed his red tunic with a sigh. At
least I just got here as she was leaving and she couldn't see the bruise
on my head. He glanced at his calendar and noted with pleasure that his
sister Maggie was supposed to call him the next day. He looked forward
to her bi-weekly calls with pleasure seeing that she was after all way
up North in the Yukon. He missed her; though Fraser had just found her
seven months ago, already he had come to care for her greatly. The two
had grown quite close, though it had been awkward at first; they'd both
been alone for so long. 	Fraser sighed as he hung his coat in the
small
closet. He was tired. Ray and he had spent their day chasing down a
disgusting
man who'd been selling illegal arms over the American-Canadian border.
It had been a long chase culminating in a rather haggard car ride for
Fraser and Dief, who had ended up being sentenced to the vet's for the
rest of the week. Ben's head was still aching from the impact with the
pavement and his back hurt dreadfully. Ray had wanted him to go see a
doctor about his head; he would have insisted if he'd realized that Fraser
had hit his back as well. His back. Fraser couldn't stop his thoughts
from wandering. His back hurt mainly because he'd agitated the bullet
lodged in his spine when he fell. But thoughts of that bullet brought
him to other thoughts he didn't want to entertain this night. They hurt
so much more... 	It was Ray's bullet. The real Ray's. He had shot
Fraser
by accident so long ago... was it really almost two years ago...? Ray...
Fraser missed the smartly dressed, smart alecky cop. They'd been so close.
The closest thing Fraser had ever had to a brother. Stan/Ray and he were
close, becoming great friends and good partners, but sometimes, just
after Ray had left, he'd felt so alone... He'd just wanted to curl up
in a ball and give up. A few tears trickled down his face as he thought
of all those who'd gone, those who'd left him. He didn't want to think
of his father and mother's murders like that. He didn't want to think
of Ray's assignment like that. But sometimes, on nights like these, when
he was tired and lonely, he couldn't help it. So many... The thought
trailed off as weariness claimed the Mountie. But the moonlight that
shone through the small window glinted off the tears that refused to
leave his cheeks. 

	When the first morning sunbeams glinted through his window,
Constable
Benton Fraser was up and ready for work. He was always up by the dawn,
partially out of habit, and partially due to the nightmares that plagued
his sleep. They came every night. Relentless in their persistence and
their fury. But he had gotten used to them; they had come for so long
now. Benton pushed the thoughts of his nightmares from his mind and leaned
down to brush some lint off his boots.	His pile of paperwork from the
adventure of the day before was done and he gingerly took up the pile
and stepped into the hallway. The bruise that had formed above his left
eye shone slightly as he carefully walked towards Inspector Thatcher's
office and paused at the door, trying to get a hand free enough to push
down the gold handle. The consulate's front door opened and he nearly
dropped his papers in surprise. "Good morning Inspector." He said as
he precariously balanced the pile of teetering papers.	"Constable Fraser
what...?" Her voice trailed off as she rushed over to her office door.
With some difficulty resulting in her arched across the doorway while
Fraser walked underneath her arched form, Inspector Thatcher managed
to hold the door open for him as he went to enter her office. "I am
assuming
that stack is for me?"	"Uh yes ma'am." Benton was able to get out as
he scrunched himself into the office and laid the pile on her desk. "My
report. In triplicate like you requested." He pulled himself to attention
at her desk as she glared down at the papers, regretting the order. 
"And the bruise?" She was getting quite good at hiding the concern in
her voice. He certainly was giving her plenty of practice.	"The
result
of an unfortunate mishap involving..." He blushed and trailed off, "It's
all in my report ma'am."	"Thank you Constable." She forced back a
groan
at the thought of having to read and check over so long of a report.
Fraser was thorough; she had to give him that. And his reports were
entertaining
if nothing else. "You can return to your duties." She said as she plopped
into the desk chair and picked up the first page of the extensive report.
"Thank you sir." The heavy walnut doors closed behind him.

	"Good morning. Canadian consulate. Constable Benton Fraser
speaking."
Ben answered the phone with his usual cheerful politeness as he looked
at an envelope that had just been delivered by courier. Turnbull was
out with a bad case of the flu and so Benton was doing double duty for
a few days, which included mail and answering the phone. "I'm sorry?"
His voice was suddenly neutral and his hands came to a halt over the
papers. "I don't understand." The words came out with painful slowness
as he listened intently to the voice three thousand miles away. 	"A
Mountie
was killed four nights ago. A Constable Margaret Mackenzie. Killer was
male and alone but that's about all we know. They found an airline receipt
at the scene. The suspect is heading your way under the name Bert
McDonnell.
Right after the report was filed the director called down and said the
case was to be assigned to you. Everything's your call. Your superior
will be informed as soon as we are done."	"Yes sir." Fraser said
mechanically,
habit taking over. He had met the director several times. He was one
of the few men who knew of Fraser's relationship to Maggie Mackenzie.
Outside of Inspector Thatcher, Turnbull, and the director, no one in
the RCMP knew that Maggie Mackenzie was his sister.	"We've sent you
photos of the crime scene and all the documents we've gathered to date.
They should be arriving by courier any time now." Again habit kicked
in, "Thank you kindly." 
"Get this guy Constable. No one kills a Mountie." 
"I'll get him." Benton swore with the first hint of feeling in the
conversation.
A moment later a dial tone resounded against his eardrum and he replaced
the receiver gently in its cradle. He stared down at the envelope he
still held in his hand and did nothing for a moment. He couldn't believe
it. Against his will, Benton's hands broke the RCMP seal and drew out
the papers within. Flat blue eyes glanced over the report that lay on
top of the small pile but he hastened onto the bottom of the pile - the
photographs. The crime scene photographers had been thorough; they were
Mounties after all. His eyes landed upon the first picture and he gasped
so sharply he felt his ribs twinge in response. 	"Oh my Lord..."
his
voice trailed off before it could get choked off by the lump that formed
in his throat. He put the pictures down and closed his eyes for a moment,
unable to look at the horror. He would be strong. He would not give in.
The thoughts chanted like a mantra through his head. The killer was still
out there. As soon as that thought graced his mind the rage boiled up.
Rage he hadn't felt since his father had been murdered boiled up in his
heart. His eyes hardened to the hearts of glaciers and he glanced back
at the pictures once more, looking for any clue as to the monster who
had done this. He scanned the pictures, memorizing every little bit in
case there was something important in them, until he saw something that
made his heart stop in his chest - a badge. It was a RCMP badge, that
much he could tell just by looking. It was lying on Maggie's body.
Benton's
brow furrowed. Maggie wouldn't have been wearing her badge, she was in
civilian clothes - it was obviously her day off. He reached into his
desk and drew out the magnifying glass that lay in the drawer and looked
down at the small silver item. The small badge number was blurred but
he could just barely make it out - 29103. The magnifying glass dropped
to the desk with a small thud. "Granger." Fraser growled and for one
moment such fury showed on his face that had anyone been there to see
it, they would have run in fear. But he was no rookie; he was a Fraser,
the strongest Scottish stock in Canada. The emotions vanished under his
iron control. Just in time. "Constable Fraser." Meg's voice rang out
in the hall from behind him. "In my office, now." Like a solid tin
soldier,
Fraser marched into her office, knowing exactly why she wanted to see
him. He stood in stiff attention at her desk; the rage within him buried
deep inside, while she paced behind her desk. "Would you care to tell
me what's going on, Constable?" She was mad, he could tell, but something
else was in her voice, something he was afraid to identify. "Would you
care to tell me why you have been assigned to a special case and why
I am allowed to know only what you tell me?" Not mad, Fraser thought,
infuriated. "I'm afraid I can't sir." If he told her what was going on
he'd break down. Control and will could only last so long, could only
go so far. She looked at him, hating this feeling of helplessness, hating
that the only reason for this secrecy could be a very large amount of
danger. "Benton..." Her voice was very low and his eyes widened at the
sound of his name. "Why you?" Why is it always you put in danger? You
who has to take the risks? His eyes softened slightly for her and she
could see the torrent of emotions surging just below the surface. "There
is a... criminal in Chicago. They want me to catch him and bring him
in." He spoke simply, and she could hear the restraint in his voice.
"Why the secrecy?" She saw the look in his eyes change and threw up her
hands. "All right then tell me why they chose you. Why not... Turnbull..."
Fraser's eyebrow shot up, "or me?" She ended lamely. "Because I know
him." Fraser's voice was emotionless. Meg looked at him, the pleading
in her eyes tearing at his heart. He couldn't tell her what had happened.
But he couldn't just leave it at that. "The perpetrator is one Paul
Granger."
"The crooked statesman?" Meg asked as she calmed and sat in her chair.
Finally he was sharing with her. It was something at least. "Yes, ma'am.
I arrested him up in the Territories for killing several men, two of
them Mounties." "Your partner." Meg whispered quietly but he did not
respond.
"I tracked him for a month and a half then. I know him better than anyone
alive." His voice was placid. "I can catch him. I WILL catch him." She
had never heard his voice so passionate as it was on that one word. "All
right. But I want you to report in at least once a day." He nodded
stoically.
"And if you need us for anything... call. You have the entire resources
of the consulate at your disposal." "Thank you ma'am. Anything else,
sir?" He was still standing at attention damn him. Yes, she thought
vehemently,
let me hold onto you and never let you go. Let me order you to give this
to someone else. There's something in your eyes that frightens me; I
don't want to see you hurt. Let me cry all over that red serge and if
you call me sir or ma'am again I may become violent. "No, Constable.
That will be all. Good luck." "Thank you Inspector." He saluted with
careful precision and walked out of her office. As soon as the door shut
behind him, Meg lowered her head into her hands and did something she
hadn't done in years - she prayed. 

Fraser paused outside her door, wanting to tell her more, needing her
arms around him in comfort. No. He ordered himself sternly. You can't
do that to her. No. He grabbed his Stetson off the desk and tucked the
file in his red serge as he walked out the door. His face was like
chiseled
stone and Meg, glancing out from her office window, trembled as she saw
it. "God help him." She whispered and turned back to her desk. All she
could do was wait. 

"Good morning Fraser." Francesca Vecchio said as she sidled up to Fraser
in her short tight black skirt and regulation blue shirt. "Good morning
Francesca." Fraser said robotically as he walked on towards Ray's desk.
Francesca stopped in confusion and looked at him strangely as he walked
on past her but Fraser didn't even notice. He didn't blush, he didn't
stammer, he didn't try to avoid her. It was like he'd barely noticed
she was there. There was a slackness to his face she knew wasn't like
him. Her heart stopped in her chest as she recognized the look. It was
so like his face after that nightmare... When he was trying to be strong
so she wouldn't see the fear or the pain. Fraser walked on towards Ray's
empty desk and Frannie ran towards her phone. Her fingers were trembling
as she pushed the numbers that connected her with the holding cells
downstairs.
"What do you want? I'm kinda in the middle of something here." Ray's
sarcastic voice rang over the line. "Ray." Something in Francesca's voice
made Ray stop glaring at the crooks he'd been grilling and turn towards
the phone. "Frannie? What's up?" "Fraser's here, Ray. He's standing
besides
your desk."
Ray's brow wrinkled in annoyance and he raked a hand through the blond
crew cut, "Yeah so tell him I'll be done here in about an hour." "Ray."
Francesca's voice was firm. "Come up here now."
Now Ray was getting worried. "What's going on Frannie?"
"Just come up now, Ray."
Screw worried, he was downright scared. "What's going on Frannie? Why's
Fraser here? Is he all right?" "I don't know Ray." The worry was evident
in her voice now. "But something's wrong. Something's really wrong."
"I'll be right up. Don't let him leave." Ray hung up the phone and headed
out of the room running. Ray burst into the squad room and scanned the
room quickly, not caring that some detectives were glancing at him with
concern. Fraser was hard to miss, the broad back of red serge stood out
no matter where Fraser was. But as Ray got nearer he wasn't sure what
worried him more - the fact that Fraser was at his desk in a military
'at ease' position or the total lack of emotion on the man's face. Fraser
was hard to read normally but there was always at least something on
his face. Now... nothing. The man's face might as well have been made
of stone. And something in Ray's heart quailed at the sight. "Fraser?"
"Hello, Ray." Even Fraser's voice was flat, completely without emotion.
"What's up? How's the head?" Ray asked, fighting to act normally, to
not let Fraser see how scared he was. Perching on the desk, Ray grabbed
a pen to busy his hands as he scrutinized carefully the dark bruise on
Fraser's forehead. "I need a favor Ray." Fraser looked into Ray's molten
hazel eyes but Ray could see nothing but ice. "No problem. What?" The
words escaped him quickly before he could think, his worry overriding
his sense. He hoped Fraser wouldn't notice how odd it was that he wasn't
arguing. Hah! Fraser's the most observant person on the planet! Better
start thinking up an excuse... But Fraser didn't seem to notice. As soon
as Ray had agreed, Fraser grabbed a pen and copied down from memory a
name on one of Ray's post-it notes. "I need you to check on a name for
me." "Sure Fraser." a bewildered Ray took a glance at the slip Fraser
handed him and walked over to Francesca's desk as she thrust her nose
back into a book. "Hey Frannie!" He called, as if he didn't know she'd
been watching them all along. "Check out this guy for me will ya - one
Bert McDonnell." As he perched over her shoulder he handed her the slip
with a sidelong glance at Fraser. The Mountie was staring at the computer
screen like it was the difference between life and death for him. Damn
Ice Queen. Ray thought as he came up with an answer for Fraser's weird
behavior. But even when she does something that hurts him, he doesn't
act like... like this! His mind argued at him and the worry creases
deepened.
"Here he is." At Frannie's words, Fraser straightened and his eyes bored
into the screen like he wanted to burn the words there on his mind. "He's
got a small sheet. Robbery. And it's almost twenty years old at that.
Why you looking for him, Fraser?" "Not important." Fraser said, surprising
both Ray and Frannie with his curtness. "Do you have anything else,
Francesca?"
"Um. Yes." She said slowly, her dark eyes troubled as she turned back
to the computer. "A couple accomplices." "May I have a printout of their
names?" Fraser asked softly, his voice flat and yet somehow intense.
There was something surging in him, just below the surface. "Uh,
Fraser..."
Frannie was shocked that Fraser didn't realize that she couldn't do that
just for him. Not without approval. Or maybe he just doesn't care. She
was about to tell him that she couldn't do it when Ray touched her
shoulder
and nodded. He would take responsibility for it. A minute later, Frannie
handed Fraser the list, "Here ya go." "Thank you kindly, Francesca."
Fraser said evenly, more out of habit than anything else. Ray exchanged
a glance with Frannie and then watched Fraser as he left the squad room.
"Hey Fraser, wait up!" Ray called, jogging slightly to catch up with
his friend. He was sick of this normal charade, "What's going on?" "I
can't tell you Ray." 
Ray flinched as if Fraser had punched him. "Come on Fraser. I thought
we were friends." Partners. Some part of the glacial wall Fraser had
put up melted and as he looked at Ray, the turmoil in his eyes made Ray
gasp. "We are friends Ray. We're partners too. But I can't tell you
anything
yet. Please, try to understand." A pleading note that Ray had never heard
before was in Fraser's voice and Ray nodded slowly. "All right, Fraser.
You don't have to tell me a thing. But I'm coming with you. I'm not
letting
you go traipsing around the city on your own. Who knows what kind of
trouble you could get into!" While he spoke, Ray kept careful watch on
Fraser's face, half-afraid he would deny him even this. But Fraser's
face didn't change though Ray thought he saw a shade of relief tinge
his eyes. "As you wish Ray." Together they turned towards the parking
lot. "You will tell me though, right Fraser? When you can?" Ray asked,
still trying to overcome the fear that had sparked within him. He
understood
his friend's need to keep some things inside but this was different.
Fraser was really hurting and it hurt Ray to see him in pain. Maggie.
Oh Maggie. I want to tell you Ray but if I do I won't make it. I won't
be able to go on. I'm not that strong. Fraser nodded and with hoarse
voice he said, "When I can." "All right then." Ray would have smiled
if he hadn't seen the pain flash on his friend's face. "Where to?" He
opened the door to the GTO and climbed in. Fraser looked down at the
sheet, as Ray pulled out into the street, his face once again hard. "We're
looking for a man called Trent Cannistan. An..." "arms fence." Ray
interrupted.
"Yeah. I rattled him a few times when I was in Vice. He hangs out at
the Grinder, a..." "dance club on 54th and Trenton." Fraser finished
for him. "Which would be..." "in the other direction. Oh yea, a field
trip to one of the seediest joints in the city." Ray finished as he swung
the black car around. A chorus of angry car horns drowned out his next
question, "How did you know about that place?" "Just drive Ray."

The sun was setting when they pulled up in front of the Grinder. For
once Fraser didn't make a comment about the illegal parking as he
practically
flew down the stairs to the underground dance club. Ray forced the worry
in him down as he ran after the Mountie, hoping he wouldn't get himself
killed before he caught up. Inside, the club was already packed tight
with the early bird crowd. Friday nighters were out in force already.
The door slammed open and the music screeched to a stop as Fraser stepped
forward. The light seemed to shine around the Mountie who stood tall
in the doorway. His voice echoed throughout the room, "We're looking
for a Mr. Trent Cannistan. If you would kindly come to us, it would save
a good deal of trouble." A man darted through the crowd and hopped onto
the back stairwell just as Ray entered the club. "Ray! Go around!" Fraser
shouted as he climbed up the rope of beads that hung to his left. As
Ray ran back outside, Fraser grabbed onto one of the strings connecting
to the disco ball hanging in the center of the room. The room watched
in shock as Fraser slid down the string, ramming into the ball and then
taking the ball with him as the momentum carried him over to the
stairwell.
The crowd applauded as Fraser landed on the top of the stairwell but
he paid them no attention as he took off running. "We just want to ask
you some questions." He called out to the man's fleeing figure as the
chase continued onto the roof. You're not the one I'm after. He was going
to lose him. No. Fraser pushed out the little extra bit of speed that
he'd been holding back and shot forward just as Ray sprang out in front
of the man from behind a large vent, gun drawn. "Freeze!" The man froze
in his tracks, hands in the air. "I haven't done nutin'. You got nutin'
on me." "If you would listen, Mr. Cannistan," Ray began in annoyance,
"you would have heard that we just want to talk with you." "I don't know
anything." the slimy man whined.
Fraser had had enough. With a dangerous look in his eyes and the bruise
above his left eye glaring in the wan light, he pinned the man to the
vent with a glance. "Let me clarify for you. My friend here is a police
officer. You are a known associate of one Bert McDonnell. He's back in
town and you are going to tell me where he is." Ray gaped as Fraser's
hard voice seemed to echo in his skull. This wasn't like his friend at
all. "I haven't seen him!" The bum whimpered, withering under Fraser's
powerful glare and the black stare of Ray's gun. "Fraser." Ray said softly
as Fraser took another step forward.
The man looked at Fraser and shook with pure fear. Something in the man's
eyes got through the wall and Fraser backed off slightly, ashamed of
himself. "I don't know." Trent blubbered. "I truly don't know." "Yeah,"
Ray said reaching into his jacket, "well if you do find out anything,
give me a call." He handed the man a card. "Whatever you say." Trent
stammered, taking the card, never letting his eyes stray from Fraser.
"Get out of here." Ray growled at the man, who promptly ran out of sight.
He was looking at Fraser too, noticing the guilty shades on his friend's
face. "Fraser?" Fraser's eyes closed for a moment as he forced his
emotions
back down where they belonged. Then, when he was sure nothing would show,
he spoke, "My apologies Ray. I was very much out of line." "No problem
Fraser." Ray said, unable to keep the worry out of his voice any longer.
"It's good to know you're human after all." Barely had the words gotten
out of his mouth when a conversation he'd had with the real Ray Vecchio
the night before he'd gone undercover floated through his mind. The two
had met, briefly, before their worlds had fallen apart. "This guy can't
be human." Stan had said after reviewing the cases that Ray and Fraser
had solved together. Ray had looked at him with pain and sadness in his
dark eyes and said in a low voice, "He is definitely human. Very human."
And Stan could hear the thought echoing through his mind, More so than
you will ever know. Stan had learned, as the Mountie called him Ray and
called him friend, just how little he'd known at the time. Vecchio's
last words to him: "Take care of him." "Ray?" Fraser asked softly, giving
his friend a concerned glance. He might be absorbed in Maggie's murder
but he was not going to neglect his friend. "I'm fine Fraser." Ray said
as he shook his head slightly to rid it of the voice. "Let's go check
those other names. Rattle the tree..." "See what falls out." Fraser
finished
the phrase with something close to a smile. I will find him Maggie. WE
will find him. 

"Bert McDonnell." Ray repeated slowly with menace in his voice. 
"Ah yeah. I knew him. Pulled a job with him some fifteen, twenty years
back." The greasy man said as he wiped the engine oil off his hands.
"Heard from him recently?" Ray asked as Fraser looked around the garage
with sharp eyes. He was hoping for a clue. Any clue. He would grab hold
of any straw at the moment. "Nope. No reason to. Even back when we did
that job I stayed as far from him as I could. He's nuts." The man said
as he leaned against the wall. "What happened to him anyway?" "He became
a politician." Fraser said flatly as he joined the two men. Ray looked
at him in inquiry but Fraser gave an almost imperceptible shake of his
head. There'd been nothing amiss, not even a screwdriver out of place.
"Hah!" the man laughed still musing over Fraser's last remark. "Figures.
See you fellows around." He said as the two men turned away and strode
out the door. "Two down." Ray said grimly as the two men slid back into
the GTO. "Two to go." Fraser replied, steely determination in his voice.

"Hang it all! That's the third one who claims not to have seen or heard
from Bert McDonnell." Ray's voice was angry as he slammed one palm against
the steering wheel of the GTO. He did not like being balked. "This does
seem to be proving most... infuriating." Fraser said tightly. The rage
and fury had grown exponentially with each man they'd seen. This bastard
couldn't get away. He'd killed his sister! And yet if they didn't get
a lead soon, he would. Ray recognized the tightness in Fraser's voice.
It was the tightness that was there when Ray asked some question about
Victoria or Fraser's past, the tightness that got in his voice when he
talked about the real Ray; it was the tightness of things that hurt.
"There's still one more name left." "Yes." Fraser agreed solemnly. "One
more." If this one didn't know anything Fraser didn't know what he'd
do. Granger couldn't be allowed to escape but how was he to find one
man in a city of thousands. Strong fingers massaged his forehead, like
he always did when he was upset, carefully avoiding the bruise, and the
gesture was not lost on Ray. "We'll find this guy, Fraser." Ray said,
trying to ease the strain of his friend's burden, as he pulled the GTO
out into traffic. "That's a promise." "Thank you Ray." Benton said as
he looked over at his friend. "You didn't need to do all this." "You're
my friend Fraser." Ray butted in, not moving his eyes from the road.
"The best friend I've ever had, actually. And you're my partner. I haven't
had too many friends and you're the only partner I actually wanted to
stay with. That's worth something to me. It's worth a lot." "Thank you
Ray." Fraser said, very softly. 

"I'm telling you I haven't heard from him!" A fair-haired woman screeched
as she ran into the wall she'd backed up against. "Ma'am," Fraser began
politely but Ray could hear the tightness was back in his voice. "You
were his girlfriend and his getaway driver. Are you sure you have not
heard from Bert McDonnell recently?" His eyes were swirling, torrents
of emotions that couldn't be discerned, and the bruise seemed to darken.
But no matter how desperate it got, Fraser would cling to that image
of strength. It was perhaps the only thing between him and the rage
within.
"I haven't seen him! I don't want to see him! That bum cost me twelve
years of my life! If he comes near me again I'll rip out his spine and
shove it down his throat." Her words were passionate and even Ray at
his most cynical would not doubt their meaning. Thick, heavy, silence
followed her words. A glance over at Fraser made Ray do a double take
- the man was standing completely still, his face gone slack like a man
drowning. The bruise stood out, a mark of purple against his white face.
I've got to get him out of here. "Thank you for your co-operation, Miss
Aberstein." Ray said as he laid a hand on Fraser's still arm. Fraser
moved like a robot, following Ray out to the car like a man in shock.
Ignoring most of the traffic laws completely, Ray sped through the dark
night. We've got to talk. Someplace where we won't be bothered.  Fraser
didn't move a muscle, not even when Ray told him they were at Ray's
apartment.
Like a child, Fraser allowed himself to be led up the stairs and into
the spacious four-room apartment. Ray closed the door with a twist of
the lock and turned to slowly face his friend. "I know, I wasn't going
to push but Fraser, you've got to let someone in. Whatever's going on
is killing you. Let me help. Why... what did this guy do to you?" The
ice that had formed around Fraser's heart began to crack. He couldn't
hold it off any longer. A tear fell from one eye but he paid it no heed
as he began to pace, trying to ease the anger before he lost control.
But the thoughts wouldn't stop running through his head. He's going to
get away. Maggie. Hideous death. Didn't deserve it. Was after you. He
wanted you. Why didn't he just come here? Torture. She paid the price
for your neglect. He's going to get away. "Isn't fair." Fraser muttered
as he pressed his hands to his throbbing head. "Didn't deserve. He was
after me! Can't get away." Ray wasn't sure what was going on but he didn't
like the looks of it. The tear that had escaped Fraser's iron will rattled
him and at the disjointed mumblings that escaped his friend's lips he
stepped forward, "Fraser. It's okay. We'll get him. Don't worry. It'll
be all right." "No, it won't!" Fraser cried, his anger boiling to the
point where he could no longer contain it. He had to strike out - at
something, anything. But the only thing around was Ray. He couldn't.
With a cry like that of a wounded animal, Fraser spun where he stood
and a great crash filled the air as he buried his fist in the wall. Now
that the ice was cracked and split there was no stopping the tears and
the sobs that racked his strong frame. Not even bothering to take his
arm out of the plaster in which it was buried, Fraser leaned his forehead
against the cool wall and let the tears fall free. It was unbearable
for Ray to see - this man who'd always shown such strength, at last
showing
his heart... in pieces. "Fraser." He said ever so softly, moving closer
to put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Fraser's answering whisper was
so low, Ray almost missed it, "help me." The words were so tiny, the
voice so small, so pained, that Ray thought for a moment that it was
his imagination. But his imagination could never come up with something
so horrible as this. "Come on Fraser." It came out hoarse but the meaning
was clear as Ray gently drew Fraser's bloodied hand out of the wall.
He guided Fraser to the couch and forced him to sit down. "Sit down."
He ordered softly as he turned to grab some first aid supplies. The salty
tears were still falling down Fraser's cheeks when Ray knelt in front
of him, laying some things on the nearby table. He hadn't spent so much
time with Fraser for nothing - Ray lifted Fraser's wounded hand and
competently
dabbed some hydrogen - peroxide on the multitude of cuts. "Talk to me
Fraser." Ray said, his voice tinged with frustration. "Tell me what's
going on. This is personal. Why?" Fraser wouldn't look him in the eyes;
instead, he stared out the window at the dark stormy night. The blond
head beside him hung low as Ray gently wrapped the bandage around Benton's
knuckles, thinking his friend would tell him nothing even then. "His
real name is Paul Granger." Fraser's low voice took Ray by surprise.
"He was hiding as a statesman in Canada. I arrested him in the Territories
seven years ago." "For what?" Ray asked, knowing there had to be more.
"Primary charge was murder. He killed six people; two of them were RCMP.
I tracked him for 47 days before catching him and bringing him in." "Woh."
Ray stared. This guy must really be nuts if it took Superman here a month
and a half to catch him. "So this guy's escaped?" It still didn't make
sense. If a gumba escaped, Fraser would be determined not... tortured.
"Yes, he escaped." Benton said in a thick voice, still focused on the
storm outside. "And he killed... a Mountie up north. He left the badge
of one of the Mounties he killed before on the body." Fraser took a deep
breath. "He left it for me. So I'd know it was him." Oh no. Ray felt
sick. "You can't blame yourself Fraser."
Blue eyes finally turned and bore into Ray, "How did you come to that
conclusion? He wants me. He did it to tell me he was coming. It was all
my fault." Ray shivered; he'd never heard such a degree of self-loathing
in Fraser's voice. Damn it all! He brought the guy in! Of course he'll
blame himself. Ray cut off the thoughts ruthlessly. "Come on buddy."
He guided Fraser to his feet. "Get some sleep. You're bunking here
tonight."
There was no way he was going to let Fraser leave. Not with some wacko
out to kill him. Fraser didn't respond, he just grabbed the sleeping
bag Ray handed him and laid it out on the floor. He was tired, even the
partial admission had drained what was left of his strength. He wasn't
the only one; Ray was not used to being the strong one, it took his toll
on him. The two men were barely in their respective spots, Fraser on
the floor and Ray in the bed, when their eyes shut and silence reigned
in the room. 

The night was more than half spent when Ray awoke. At first he didn't
know why he had woken up; normally he slept like the dead. Then he looked
down to the floor. For as long as Ray had known him, outside of the
hospital,
Ray could never remember seeing Fraser sleep. He knew the Mountie did
and he knew he went to bed early and woke before the dawn, but never
before had he actually seen him sleep. Now his first glimpse was almost
laughable in some horrific way. Even in sleep, the Mountie tried to be
out of the way - he turned and thrashed solely within the confines of
the narrow bag, not even straining against the zipper. But the handsome
face was pale and drawn taut with the ferocity of the nightmare and the
soft moans that came from his mouth were heartrending. Ray's mouth went
dry as the moans turned to words that seemed to rend themselves from
Fraser's lips, "I'm sorry. Forgive me. Please! I'm so sorry. After me...
Shouldn't have..." Ray was still debating whether or not to wake him
when his friend shot up with a gasp. With a deep shuddering sigh, Benton
leaned forward, resting his forehead against his palms as sweat dripped
off the spiky ends of his hair. His breath came in rapid gasps and the
moonlight shone off the puckered scar on his back. Fiercly, he pressed
the heels of his palms to his eyes in a gesture Ray had seldom seen but
knew signified the attempted repression of some great pain. "Fraser?"
Ray offered tentatively. "Are you all right?" He felt stupid asking the
question - it was obvious his friend was far from all right. "I'll be
fine, thank you Ray." Fraser managed to gasp out as he struggled to get
himself under control. "My apologies for waking you. It was just a
nightmare."
"Just a nightmare?" Exclaimed Ray. "Fraser, that looked like the grand
mother pubaa of all nightmares!" Ray's passion elicited no response from
the man on the floor. "Not really Ray." He rubbed his forehead, wincing
when his hand glanced off the bruise. "How can you pass it off so easily?"
Ray well remembered his nightmares from when he was younger; most had
been so vicious that they'd left him shaking and unable to sleep for
days. "It's not that difficult, Ray," Fraser said in a half sigh, "when
you have them every night." The nightmare was too fresh to deny. "Every...
Are you serious?" 
"I think I would know." It was the closest Fraser would ever come to
sarcasm. He shrugged, mad at himself for disturbing his friend, "I'll
admit that one was worse than normal but then again... It was not a normal
day." You can say that again. Ray thought. I think I've learned as much
about you today as I have in all our time together as partners. "What's
really going on here, Fraser?" No time like the present. "Whatever do
you mean, Ray?" There was no way he was going to look up. "I mean, there's
something you're not telling me." Finally, blue eyes turned up to look
at him but Fraser's face was in shadow, he couldn't read the expression.
"You aren't acting like yourself. There's something you've left out.
Something that makes this case personal." "Three dead Mounties isn't
enough?" Fraser asked quietly.
"Not with you." Ray countered instantly. "If they were 'just' three
Mounties
you would be determined as all heck not..." He didn't want to say it.
"There must be something more." Tell me. Talk about it. I've never seen
you like this. I don't know what it could be. At this point, Fraser was
sitting cross-legged on the floor and while Ray waited for a response,
he leaned his head on his folded palms. "I didn't mean to leave you out
Ray. I just..." He paused and swallowed the lump that sprung into his
throat. His friend was right; he wasn't being fair to Ray. "Two months
and seven years ago, it was uncovered by a conscientious reporter that
Paul Granger was using stolen bank money from the United States to fund
his political office. The reporter gathered evidence, then was found
massacred in the woods before he could write the article. Supposedly
a wolf attack. But the evidence was in his safety deposit box and when
a member of the RCMP cleaned out the box to send to his kin, the evidence
was found and placed under review. The Mountie's partner was away for
a short time and so he was assigned a temporary partner and the two
checked
the evidence thoroughly. Granger was confronted and escaped the Mountie
and his temporary partner, killing one bank guard in the process."
Fraser's
voice shuddered of its own violition and he had to pause before he could
go on. The story had taken on a life of its own and an eerie heaviness
hung in the air like lead gas. "With two Mounties on his tail and the
rest of the RCMP being quickly alerted to his criminal activities and
subsequent escape, Granger immediately took hostage a young mother and
her two children, ages 4 and 8." His voice seemed to fade out for a moment
as he mused, "They were beautiful children. She was a beautiful woman.
Famous in the town for her long blond hair. Beautiful hair. A family
trait." Fraser shook himself slightly to bring himself back to the
narrative,
"The four made it to a small barn where Granger slit the four year old's
throat for being unable to stop crying. The eight-year-old girl was raped
several times before her neck was broken and her body thrown atop her
brother's. He decided to bed down for the night before moving out onto
the ice fields the next day. That was a mistake. He had underestimated
the skill of the Mounties tracking him. The two Mounties and the wolf
who was with them found him around nightfall and, with backup on the
way, decided to post themselves at either entrance of the great barn
and wait him out - the Mountie on one side with the wolf and the new
partner on the other, just barely in sight of each other. When more
substantial
reinforcements got there, they would move in. They dug small trenches
for themselves and prepared to wait." Ray was almost shivering where
he sat; Fraser's voice was magnetic, it drew one into the story, made
them part of the story. And Ray's heart was thick with dread of what
was to come next, having drawn his own conclusions as to identities in
the story. "Just after they had finished digging in, Granger made his
move. The Mounties and their wolf heard the woman's screams coming from
inside the barn. Blood curdling screams. They went on and on for about
ten minutes. Then the barn door opened slightly and the Mountie's partner
saw something fly out the door of the barn and land in a mound on the
thick coat of snow. The mound was too far away for him to tell what it
was but he knew it had been thrown out for a reason. Thinking perhaps
it might be Granger's list of conditions, the partner moved forward
tentatively,
keeping close to cover." Fraser's eyes seemed to glaze over slightly
as Ray stared into them, seeing the scene exactly as it must have been.
"There was no sound from the barn as he moved closer. The mound was fairly
close to the barn, completely in the open. Granger had only had a knife
at the bank so the partner reasoned it would be fairly safe even though
the Mountie was shaking his head and waving at him to stop. The wolf
was straining to go and stop him but the Mountie held him tight. So the
partner moved closer and eventually reached the mound that had been tossed
out the barn doors. He picked it up to examine it, noticing that the
snow where it had lain was stained scarlet. As he turned it over in his
hands he realized what it was - the woman's hair. It had been cut from
her head along with her scalp." There was a long pause and Ray felt his
stomach revolt against the picture but he didn't move or protest and
Fraser continued. "When he realized what it was he held, the partner
immediately dropped the scalp in horror but laughter could already be
heard from in the barn. Hideous laughter. From the other side of the
barn, the Mountie heard the laughter and let the wolf loose, hoping to
avert the tragedy that he could sense in the air. But it was too late.
Shots rang out and the partner fell. Apparently, Granger had found a
sawed off shotgun in the barn. He fired three times, even after it was
obvious the partner was fatally wounded. The Mountie watched the partner
fall and sprang up from his ditch. He fired his full compliment of bullets
at the small window from which the shotgun had fired. His aim was true
and the bullets flew inside the barn. The world fell silent once more.
Then the awful laughter could be heard once more and a body was thrown
out the loft door. It was the woman, her bloody head visible from any
distance." "She was still alive. Her moans and cried echoed through the
fields. Unable to resist her plaintive cries, the Mountie ran forward
to try and help her, the wolf following from several hundred feet behind.
When he was still 50 yards away the woman gave one last choked cry and
then lay limply on the snow dead. It was only when the Mountie got closer
that he realized the truth - it had been his bullets that had cost the
woman her life. Granger had used her as a human shield. Rage filled him;
he couldn't fight it. And so the Mountie ran into the barn after Granger.
The shotgun met him. He took a blast to the shoulder that disabled his
arm but he didn't stop. The Mountie went on and knocked the shotgun out
of Granger's hand; the wolf closed in from behind. But Granger dodged
the Mountie's next punch, revealing to the Mountie what he had stood
in front of - the children's bodies. The Mountie was paralyzed for a
moment with horror. That moment would prove fatal. The wolf lunged to
try and protect the Mountie, but Granger still had his knife and he threw
it at the creature who was unable to dodge the flying dagger." "When
the reinforcements arrived several hours later, Granger was gone. The
wolf was lying bleeding on the floor, a trail of blood from where he
had dragged himself. He'd been trying to get to the Mountie, or rather,"
Fraser corrected himself dully, "what was left of the Mountie. Granger
had apparently landed a dizzying punch on the Mountie's temple when the
wolf arrived and while the Mountie was still dazed, he'd regained his
shotgun. The Mountie had sustained a shotgun blast at close rang to the
abdomen and then, even though the Mountie's death was already assured,
Granger had finished him off with a shotgun blast to the face from roughly
ten centimeters away. The damage to the body was so bad that when the
Mountie's real partner - who had returned in time to join the
reinforcements
- was called to identify the body, he couldn't do it. They had to get
dental records to confirm the identification." Fraser couldn't keep the
tightness from his voice anymore. "The partner demanded the case and
was given it. And set off to track Paul Granger over the ice fields."
Ray's breath all but stopped as his mind connected two and two. "You
were the partner." It was part statement, part question. Fraser closed
his eyes and nodded. "Steve Goldeagle was my first partner. The only
friend I had at the time. We'd met at Depot and worked together so well
in training that they paired us up in the field. We had been together
for six months and though we weren't like my father and Buck Frobisher,
he was my partner. I had left Dief with him while I went to testify in
another case we had solved up North. I came back to find Dief injured
and Steve dead. There was no way I was going to let his killer go free."
Fraser drew in another deep breath while Ray tried to assimilate the
new information. The moonlight fled the room, chased by dark clouds as
Fraser went on, his voice impossibly tighter, "I tracked him for a 37
days over those ice fields. When I caught up to him, I was tired, hungry,
and cold. But he was in worse shape. He hadn't planned on being chased
into the ice fields. He had thought he would have been able to get to
safety without pursuit at least for a while. When I brought him in, both
pinkies on his hands had to be amputated as well as 4 of his toes. He
suffered from severe hypothermia and dehydration. It was three weeks
before they were able to try him." The waiting is always the worst. The
thought floated through the confusion in Ray's mind. He didn't know what
to say. But the story wasn't finished yet; Fraser went on. "I went to
Steve's home, to tell his wife and children but she had already been
informed. And she... she asked me... she asked me where I had been that
I didn't help him or at least die with him. That, she said, would have
been honorable." Face twisted in horror, Ray stared down but Fraser was
still looking through him with those glassy eyes. There are two horrors,
a memory of Fraser's voice echoed through Ray's mind, dying senselessly
and living without honor. "She forbid me to come to his funeral and shut
the door in my face. I tried to work but my superiors were 'doubtful'
of my ability to return to work so soon after such a tragedy. Perhaps
if I had had a partner, but there wasn't exactly a great line up to be
my partner." "but it wasn't your fault." Ray didn't even recognize his
own voice in the plaintive plea that escaped his lips. "The details were
classified to ensure the 'people's faith in the RCMP'." Fraser explained.
"So most of them, even in the RCMP, only got the facts. I was his partner;
he was dead. That was enough for them. Eventually word got around but
I didn't want another partner. Not until..." His voice trailed off and
Ray felt a small warmth inside him as he realized it wasn't only the
real Ray Vecchio that Fraser was thinking of. "And this time?" There
was still something more missing.
"When I took Granger in, he swore he would find me someday. Find me and
make me pay for what I had done to him." Fraser stated simply. "Seven
days ago, Granger escaped. They set up a dragnet and, figuring that would
stop him, they declined to call me and tell me he'd escaped.  Five days
ago, Granger killed a Mountie and left Steve's badge on the body, just
to make sure I'd know it was him. The RCMP who investigated the case
assumed it was the dead Mounties' badge and ignored it completely but
it wasn't meant as a message for them. He wanted me to see it." It was
the best he could do. "This guy's coming after you." Ray stated grimly.
"Yes." Confirming it, though it was already clear in his eyes. "Oh my
God." Realization sparked in his eyes; "I can't stay here Ray. If he
comes... I'm sorry I didn't think. I don't want to make you a target
as well. I have to leave. You've got to stay far away from me." "Too
late Fraser." Ray interrupted. He'd been waiting for this. He knew Fraser
would realize eventually and try to leave. "I am involved. And you're
not leaving. It's not your fault this nutzoid is coming after you. I
am not letting you handle this alone. We're partners. I'm gonna be here
for you." "Ray," Fraser's voice was thick and his head bowed with the
weight of guilt and sadness, "I can't lose another partner. I can't.
I can't do that again. I don't want you to die because of me." Jaw jutted
out in stubbornness, Ray insisted, "That wasn't your fault Fraser. None
of this was your fault. And I'm not going to die. We'll get this guy.
I gave you my word and I intend to keep it. You won't get rid of me that
easily." Fraser's head was still bowed but he nodded, "It won't happen
again." His voice got so low that Ray couldn't hear it, "I promise."

"Let me get this straight, Detective." Lieutenant Welsh said, leaning
back in his desk chair. "You want me to assign you to chase after some
guy who may or may not be in Chicago who committed a robbery 20 years
ago?" "Yes sir." Ray sagged against the chair across from the Lieutenant.
Welsh looked him over carefully. Now Ray was no Detective Armani but
he normally turned up decently dressed, now though, the detective looked
downright slovenly. His blond hair stood in spikes on top of his head
and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. "What's going on,
Detective?
You look like hell." Ray looked at Welsh with haggard green eyes; "Fraser
needs me."
"What?" Welsh had never heard him say it that way before. "The Mountie's
got a case he needs help on?" For a moment, Ray just stared at him, the
understatement of the question shocking him completely. Then Welsh's
continued stare brought him to his senses, "uh... Sort of sir." Welsh
raised his eyebrows, getting worried at the odd behavior. "He put this
guy away seven years ago. Eight days ago, the guy escaped." Welsh was
sitting straight up in his chair now. "And you two think this guy's headed
here?" "Already here is more like it, Lt." Ray raked a hand through his
hair. "He's coming after Fraser." Now Welsh was definitely worried. Though
the Mountie wasn't officially one of his men, he thought of him that
way. "So what's the Constable going to do?" "Ha." Ray laughed shortly.
"He doesn't even seem to recognize the danger to himself. He just wants
to bring this guy in. Badly. It's personal to him, Lt. Very personal."
Ray looked out the window for a moment, recalling the glazed look in
Fraser's eyes and his concern for Ray's safety. "He isn't thinking of
any danger to himself. He's just thinking about how he has to get this
guy. And the danger to those who know him." Welsh took a moment to absorb
this information. "I'll give you the time Vecchio, but is there any legal
reason so I can assign this as a real case? You don't got a whole lot
of off time left." Ray gave him a humorless smile, "Thought of that Lt..
This guy, Paul Granger, is a real winner. He has both a Canadian and
American alias and wanted for crimes committed in both countries." Welsh
nodded, "You've got the case." Ray sprang to his feet with a quick thank
you. "And Ray," Welsh called. Green eyes looked back curiously, "Be
careful.
When the Mountie gets personal... be doubly careful." "No problem Lt."
Ray gave a swift salute and ran from the office and out of the squad
room. He had a friend to protect. 

"How's it going, Constable?" Meg asked as she surveyed the man standing
at attention before her desk. There were shadows under his eyes that
she had never seen before and he looked quite frankly exhausted. "Not
well, ma'am." He said wearily. "None of his old accomplices have heard
from him or are likely to hear from him soon." "Is there anything I can
do to help locate him?" Just barely she kept the tremble out of her voice.
"I'm afraid not sir." Fraser responded. "Detective Vecchio is checking
his informants as we speak. Hopefully he will be able to dig something
up that we can use." "Detective Vecchio is helping you?" She wasn't sure
whether to be relieved that someone was with him or hurt that it wasn't
her by his side. "Yes ma'am. I told him of the danger but he refused
to leave." There was a trace of warmth beneath the neutral voice. Ray
would never know how much it meant to him. "Danger?" Her heart most
certainly
did not take a flying leap into her throat, that was an anatomical
impossibility.
"It appears," Fraser paused for a moment, knowing she couldn't possibly
know much of what happened up North, "that Granger is after revenge."
"Against you." Forget her heart in her throat, now it sank down to the
floor. "Yes, ma'am." His voice was grim. "Which brings me to my request."
"Constable?" Knuckles turned white as her hands gripped the arms of her
chair. "I'm afraid I must be out of contact until this is solved." He
stepped closer as she stood to protest. "There is no other choice. The
danger to others is too great. I will not risk your safety." His voice
shook with intensity. They were face to face and she could see it burning
in his eyes. It was a statement, almost an order. There was still
something
more. "Your request?" The feeling could no longer be kept from her eyes
and they glistened as she stared up at him. "It's partially of a personal
nature..." he trailed off as he gazed into her beautiful fierce eyes.
"I'm asking you... I'm begging you to be careful Meg." Her breath drew
in sharply at her name and the tears that had misted her eyes threatened
to overflow. "If he gets any idea of what you mean to me..." His finger
touched wonderingly at a tear that escaped her. "I don't want to lose
you too Meg. Please." The words were almost inaudible. She took a great
gulp of air, forcing herself to nod. "I will be careful Ben. I promise."
He nodded and sighed, relieved of a great burden. "Just..." her voice
was very quiet; she was trying to remain strong, hold onto what dignity
she had left, "Just please, you do the same." He nodded, still her silent
soldier, and she was drowning in the chaotic swirls of his eyes. A warm
callused palm lay against her cheek and she closed her eyes leaning into
the touch. The contact was very brief, lasting only the shortest of all
moments but she savored it. Then the warmth withdrew and when she opened
her eyes, he was gone. 

"You talk to her?" Ray asked as he met Fraser in the park like they'd
agreed earlier. The police station was too risky. Fraser didn't want
to lead Granger to all those innocent people. "Yes. She's agreed to be
doubly careful and lay low until the danger has passed. I'm officially
on my own." It was a great relief to him.	"Welsh gave me the case so
you've got me." Ray said with a crooked grin.	"Thank you Ray." Fraser
said, his voice harsh with emotion.
	"It's no problem." Ray tossed it off calmly as the two went
towards
the GTO trying to act as though they were investigating any old case.
"Your informants have any information?" Fraser asked, trying to remain
calm, as he climbed into the passenger side of the GTO. 	"Well, I
got
his old hideout. An abandoned warehouse on Chesterton and South Street
out on the pier. Nobody's rented it since he left apparently. There may
still be something there. But nothing recent. I thought we could check
it out. He may have gone back there. And I called up his mug shots and
sent them around along with that picture you gave me from the Canadian
files." I'm going to help you Fraser. I'm not going to let you do this
alone. Not a chance.	"I assume we are heading for the warehouse now?"
Thank you Ray.
	"Yup." Ray said as he swung a left.
	"Than Ray," Fraser said, pursing his lips.
	"Yes Fraser?" He would stay calm. He would not worry about his
friend.
"We're going in the wrong direction." 
	Ray glanced around and blushed, "Oh yeah. Well we can fix that.
Hold
on." He swung the GTO around in a vicious U-turn as Fraser grasped the
doorframe for dear life. "See, now we're going in the right direction."

	"What do you think, Fraser?" Ray said as he crouched beside the
dingy
warehouse door. His gun was drawn and he clutched it tightly as Fraser
tried to peek inside.	"I think if we should split up. You take this
entrance and I'll take the far one. It's unlikely that he's here of course
but..." He crouched back down.	"Yeah." Ray agreed, clicking the safety
off his gun. "So wait five then go in?" 	Fraser nodded as he began
to
slide away. "Oh Ray." He said, turning back. Ray looked up in surprise.
"Glasses." Sheepishly, Ray nodded, fumbling in his pocket for the glasses
that helped him see well enough to shoot. Fraser nodded with a grim smile
and disappeared around the corner.	"Okay, wait five." Ray glanced
down
at his watch impatiently. He checked the clip in his 9mm Barreta -
fifteen,
that was right. He checked the barrel then clicked off the safety before
looking at his watch again. "Four to go." His leg started tapping. "I
hate waiting." Annoyed, he glanced down at his watch again, "Three! Ugh.
I still hate waiting." The blond head starting bobbing to an inaudible
rhythm as he kept glancing around as if he'd see something interesting.
But nothing interesting made itself known and with a grimace, Ray glanced
at his watch yet again, "Argh! Oh screw it. A minute is close enough."
Gun at the ready, Ray crept up to the door. His kick rang out like a
shot as the door slammed open and his voice echoed through the building,
"Chicago PD! Freeze!"	"No one's here, Ray." Fraser said from the other
doorway as his sharp eyes glanced around the open warehouse.	"How'd
you know I'd come in early?" Ray asked sheepishly as he pocketed his
gun.	"You're my partner." Benton said simply as he walked further in,
trying to see if there was anything to be found. There was a table in
the center of the warehouse and while Ray checked out the perimeter,
Benton headed towards it. As the contents of the table came into sight
Benton felt vaguely faint. All over the table, spread out in random
fashion
were pictures - of Maggie and Ray. Some were burnt, others torn,
suggestions
of how to kill each written in red marker on each. Rage flashed into
Benton's soul as he glanced over the pictures. His vision flashed red
for a moment and if Granger had been standing before him right then,
he would have killed him with his bare hands.	"Hello Mountie." Benton
started and whipped around as Granger's voice filled the warehouse. "What
took you so long?" The door behind Benton slammed shut; Ray tried to
reach the other one but it too slammed shut just before he reached it.
Ray pushed on the door, kicked it, shot it, but it didn't budge. He locked
eyes with Benton and shook his head; they weren't getting out that way.
"Well, well," Granger's voice continued, echoing around the two. "It
seems you saved me the trouble of going after your partner, Constable
Fraser. You brought him right to me."	Damn him. Ray thought as he
glanced
over at Fraser who looked suddenly sick.	"You were partially right,
Mountie." Granger's voice continued on in a sing song fashion. "Nobody's
here. Only ghosts of the past. And a couple hundred sticks of dynamite
underneath the building but hey, I suppose they don't count." Laughter
came out of nowhere and Ray shivered viciously, Fraser hadn't been joking
when he called that laughter horrible. "Well Mountie, I hope your new
partner and you look forward to dying together. I'm off to see your boss
lady. You two looked awful cozy this morning." Fraser went white with
fury and his hands clenched into fists. "Well, I guess I'll leave you
with that. Have a nice life, all ten minutes of it." There was a loud
click as the loudspeaker went off.	"Come on Fraser." Ray called as he
kicked at the door again, "We've got to get out of here."	I led Ray
right into his trap. Benton thought in dismay as he ran over to his
friend.
Lips pressed tight into a white line, he lent his strength to his friend's
as the two tried together to kick the door down. Two tries later Fraser
stopped and put his hand on Ray's arm, "It's no use trying this way.
Door's too thick. We'll have to find another way out."	"Like what,
Fraser?"
Ray said sarcastically, waving his arm around. "There's not exactly a
surplus of doors around here."	"Then let's try a window." Ben said as
he glanced around. "Nine minutes five seconds." He muttered under his
breath. I'm not letting you die because of me. "There!" He said running
over to the lakeside of the warehouse. There was a dirty window up about
thirty feet. They hadn't noticed it before because it was so grimy and
dirty it blended right in with the rest of the walls.	"Fraser there's
no way we can reach that!" Ray exclaimed as he followed his friend. 
"Shoot the window then give me your gun." Fraser demanded as he grabbed
some rope off the floor.	"What?" Ray said incredulously.
	"Shoot the window, then give me your gun." He repeated slowly as
he
threw his belt over his shoulder. With a suspicious look, Ray glanced
up at the window, shook his head and fired three times. The two men
covered
their heads as the glass shattered.	"Oh that was useful." Ray said
sarcastically
as he gingerly picked glass off his shoulders.	"Gun." Fraser demanded
holding out his hand, ignoring the glass on his shoulders and in his
hair.	"What are you doing?" His voice was less than trusting as he
handed
Fraser his gun. 	"Getting us out of here." Fraser quickly fastened
the
gun to the rope and started swinging it in a loop.	"You've got to be
kidding me." Ray said as he realized what Fraser was doing.	"There's
a small ledge just below the window. There must have been a second floor
here once." Fraser said as he let the gun fly. It soared up and out,
landing outside the window. The metallic bang as it hit the outside wall
was strangely comforting to the men below. "It's pretty simple. Climb
up to the ledge and jump out. The warehouse was built almost on the edge
of the pier. There's all that nice water to land in." He pulled on the
rope slowly, praying hard that it would latch onto something.	Finally
the rope wouldn't pull; the gun had latched itself on a board two feet
down from the window. "All right." Fraser said, turning to Ray and handing
him the black uniform gloves he had in his serge, "Put these on. They
should help."	"What about you?" I am NOT leaving you here. If you even
suggest it...	Fraser wrapped the belt tightly around his hands, "I'll
go up after you go. The rope's not strong enough to handle both of us
at once."	Ray was going to protest but one look at Fraser's set face
and he knew it was useless. Thrusting his hands into the gloves, cursing
the while, Ray grabbed the rope. "I've always hated the rope climb. And
I hate water." He muttered as he began to climb, going up the rope as
fast as he could.	"Five minutes." Fraser called as Ray paused for
breath
halfway up. That did it. Like he had sat on a cactus, Ray sped up the
remaining rope and perched on the ledge. "Okay Fraser." He called down.
"Come on up and join me."	"Jump Ray." Fraser said as he grabbed onto
the rope and started to climb. "Get out of here."	"Not without you,
partner." Ray said grimly. 
	There was silence for a moment with no sound but the heavy
breathing
of the two men. "Three minutes." Fraser said; he was halfway up the rope.
"Two and a half." he was three fourths of the way there. Sweat was beading
on his forehead. His hand went up, he grasped the rope. 	"Come on
Fraser."
He heard Ray calling from the narrow ledge. 
	"Two minutes." He tried to haul himself up but the strain was too
much
on the small rip that had held the gun down. Suddenly the rope and the
wall behind it were a blur as gravity pulled him downward as the gun
shot up. "Bindlestitch!!" Fraser exclaimed as the gun caught on another
ledge, jerking his arms in their sockets. He was back at halfway.      
"Fraser!"
Ray called. "You okay?"
	"Get out of here Ray. There's only a minute and thirty nine
seconds
left." Fraser called as he started upward again.	"Not without you."

	"I'll be right behind you." He was back at three-fourths, muscles
straining
with the force of his climb. "Now go! Don't make me responsible for
killing
another partner!" Something in his voice convinced Ray, "Damn it Fraser,
you better be right behind me." 	"I will be. Now jump!" Fraser
yelled.
He was almost there. "A minute 10."	Still muttering, Ray leapt out the
window. A moment later a loud splash and some equally loud curses told
Fraser his friend was safely in the water. "Fifty three seconds." Fraser
told himself as his hands grasped the ledge. With a groan, he hauled
his torso onto the ledge. Some of the glass from his shoulders tinkled
as it fell on the ledge. "Forty seconds." His back twinged and his arms
almost gave out with the pain but Fraser flung a leg up to join his arms.
"Twenty five seconds." He rolled the rest of his body onto the narrow
ledge, just barely fitting when he lay sideways. "Eleven."	The
Constable
sprang to his feet, his sleeve catching on a piece of ragged glass,
"Seven."
"Jump Fraser!!" Ray screamed from below.	
	He tore the sleeve free. "Three!" Fraser sprang into the air. 
	Time seemed to slow. Ray watched as his friend flew out into the
air
over the water and then paused in mid air, at the arc of his jump. Ray
couldn't even begin to describe the relief he felt to see his friend.
But time had run out. There was a great whoosh and Ray had to hide his
face as the warehouse exploded into a fiery furnace. "Fraser!" He called
before ducking his face into the water to protect it from the searing
heat.	There was a great splash somewhere to the right of him and Ray
jerked his head up, trying to see through the huge smoke cloud. "Fraser?!
Answer me!" No, no, no, no. Come on, Fraser. Don't drown on me. I can't
swim that well. The bloom-close thing is the best I can do. "FRASER?!"
How long has it been? Where is he? Ray splashed in a circle trying in
vain to pierce the heavy layer of falling smoke and ash which was all
that remained of the warehouse, dodging boards which plunked into the
water like lead. A choked whisper came from his mouth as he treaded as
best he could, "Fraser..." There was no response.	Fraser had just
started
falling when the explosion had come. There had been no where to hide,
nothing to shield him from the flame and the heat or the debris. The
rush of heat came first. What Ray heard as a whoosh, Fraser felt as a
blistering wind searing over him as he began to fall. His hat flew off,
backwards into the inferno, and in an attempt to protect his head and
body, Fraser tucked himself into a small ball, covering his head with
his arms. A split second later and the tongues of fire were engulfing
him. He felt the heat scorch him, knew too that his uniform ignited -
he could feel the flames at his back.	Debris shot around him. He heard
the sizzle as flaming boards hit the cold water. Something struck his
upper back and Fraser arched in pain... just in time for a falling board
to glance off his head, striking the still glaring bruise on his forehead.
Dazed, he was not ready when his body slapped the water with a huge
splash.
The coldness of the water heightened the disorientation he felt and though
he tried to swim, his heavy serge and thick boots were hindering him.
At least the water put out the flames, his confused brain managed to
spout as Benton tried desperately to see where the surface was. He hadn't
taken a deep breath; he couldn't last much longer. But the light was
everywhere, throbbing behind his eyes. His arms and legs slowed, tired
by the exertions, he was sinking.	Ben. 
	What in the world... Benton's thoughts trailed off in shock as he
looked
over to the left. Maggie? How can that be...? He was going to open his
mouth to say hello but she placed her fingers over his lips. Time seemed
to have stopped and the burning in his lungs faded into the background.
Maggie smiled at him. Take my hand, Ben. Her voice was gentle in his
head. With absolute trust Benton reached for her hand but his hand went
right through hers. He looked down at his hand like it had betrayed him.
Take my hand, Ben. She was farther back, he realized.	Oh you missed,
you idiot. Benton's fuzzy mind told him as he strained to reach her again.
He didn't understand why they were floating but there was a great light
shining behind Maggie and he wanted to be with his sister again. Once
again he reached for her hand. And once again he seemed to miss and she
was again out of his reach. Maggie's face was more urgent now, her
beautiful
blue eyes staring at him in dismay. Please Ben! Take my hand!	Spurred
on by the desperation in his sister's voice, Benton kicked frantically
and reached out once more... to touch air. Maggie disappeared with a
smile as the Constable burst through the surface of the cold water and
took a great gulp of air. Water flew off of him and he heard his name
shouted on the air but then the water was back, surrounding him, covering
him. He wasn't going to make it. Finally his mind awoke, screaming one
name, Meg! He's going after Meg! But there was nothing he could do. His
mouth opened and the water rushed in, stealing what breath was left in
his lungs. His still outstretched hand slipped back beneath the surface
and the cold water froze his muscles.	Then someone grabbed his wrist
and hauled. Fraser felt himself surfacing once more and tried to take
another great gulp of air but a fit of coughing overtook him. "Breathe
Fraser!" Someone was saying as a strong arm locked around his chest,
under his arms. "Just breathe." Clumsy legs, unaccustomed to supporting
one much less two, accidentally kicked his calves but Fraser was working
on getting the water out of his lungs so he could get some air back in.
Finally the last of the water choked out and he heaved in a great
lung-full
of air. "Thank God." The person clutching to his torso was saying.
"Fraser?
You okay?"	"Ray?" Fraser's voice was a little slurred and very ragged
as he turned his head to look at his friend.	"Yeah. You okay?" Ray was
glancing at him worriedly, noticing that the bruise was darker and the
whole area around it was swelling badly not to mention the slight trickle
of blood from the hairline just above it.	Fraser nodded slightly,
pulling
away from his friend's grasp; "I'm fine." Ray tried to protest Fraser
moving away, he was worried about that bruise, but Fraser shook his head,
"You can't support both of us Ray. Though I thank you for bringing me
up." He forced his breathing to even out and half treaded, half floated
a foot or two away from his friend.	"Let's get to a dock." Ray said,
glancing from the flaming ruins of the warehouse to their left to the
beckoning dock on their right. "I hate water." He kicked hard a moment
more and as he struggled off Fraser could hear him mutter, "bloom...
close... kick em in the head... bloom... close... kick em in the head."
Benton gave a short laugh but it sent agony through his head, so Fraser
settled for swimming off behind his friend, glad there was something
nearby for him to focus on because the rest of the world was swirling.
It took them a good four minutes at their slow rate of swimming, but
eventually the two hauled themselves up on the dock and lay there, just
gasping in air and enjoying the solid feel of wood beneath them. Meg.
The thought ran through Ben's mind again and he heard Granger's words
echoing in his head: I'm off to see your boss lady. You two looked awful
cozy this morning.	"Meg." Benton moaned as he rolled over onto his
side.
	"What did you say?" Ray said as he looked over at his friend. His
jaw
dropped open, "Good Lord, Fraser, you look awful!" Before, Ray had been
more concerned about keeping both of them above water; he hadn't looked
much past his friend's head and collar. But now, with Fraser fighting
to stand beside him, all the damage was clear. His dripping right sleeve
was torn midway between his shoulder and his elbow and hung raggedly
over a scrapped and burned arm, the back and sides of his soggy red serge
were charred to black, his neck was pink above and around the collar,
and the bruise was severely worse.	"Have to help Meg." Fraser said as
his attempt at walking turned into more of a sway.	"God Fraser! Are
you nuts?!" Ray shouted as he sprang to his feet. "You have to go to
a hospital."	Shaking his head, Benton tried walking again. But he
couldn't
seem to get both of his feet to cooperate and if it hadn't been for Ray's
hand under his arm he might have done something truly disgraceful, like
falling. Fraser tried to clear his head by shaking it; was Ray leading
him somewhere? Ah, the GTO. Sitting was good. Fraser started to peel
off the ruined serge jacket, thankful that he always wore a white shirt
underneath. But there was something... "Meg!" Benton murmured, as he
remembered. But Ray wasn't close enough to hear.	Surveying the
ruins
of the warehouse, Ray took out the cell phone. Fraser concentrated hard;
he had to hear what Ray was saying. "Yes we have an officer hurt.
Chesterton
and South. Tell them to look for the flaming rubble. We won't be hard
to find." Shaking his head in disgust, Ray dialed another number. "Lt.?
Vecchio here."	Fraser tuned out, his brow furrowed. The Lieutenant was
most definitely going to want to come down and keep them there to make
a statement and explain. That would take too long. His head throbbed.
Meg didn't have that much time! Ray glanced over at Fraser and Fraser
stared back placidly until Ray turned back to his conversation. If I
wait for the police, Meg will die. That decided it. Time had run out.
"Yeah, I called an ambulance already." Ray stated calmly to the Lt. as
he kicked at a smoldering board. "No, I'm fine. Wet but fine. It's for
Fraser. Yeah, he took a pretty decent knock to the head the other day
with that car chase..." Ray gave a humorless laugh, "I knew you wouldn't
forget Lt. But it looks like he took another knock jumping out of the
warehouse. He said he feels fine but he's kind of wobbly. I want a doc
to look at him." Ray's voice was firm. He was prepared to fight with
his friend. Fraser hated hospitals and didn't like going to doctor's
much either, at least not when he was the patient. "Well the warehouse
is pretty much rubble. Granger was ready and waiting for him..." Ray
trailed off as he turned back to the GTO. There was no one in the
passenger
seat.	"Fraser?" Ray called, wondering if his friend was sniffing
something
or other again. There were some noises from the phone but Ray jerked
it up and spoke impatiently, "Hold on a second, Lt." He took a step closer
to the black car and called out again, louder this time, "Fraser?!" Still
no answer. Ray ran over to the car, fearing he'd find the Mountie
collapsed
on the ground, "FRASER!" No Canadian. "Damn!" Ray swore as he brought
the cell phone up again, "Look Lt. I gotta go. Fraser's gone. He must
have gone after Granger. I'll call you as soon as I can." He flipped
the phone shut and dove into the driver's seat slamming his palm on the
wheel. "Hang it all, Fraser!" The GTO tore out of the parking lot. 

	"Thank you kindly." Fraser said slowly, making his words as clear
as
he could, as he got out of the cab about a block away from the Consulate.
He handed the cabby a bundle of Canadian bills, not up to actually
counting
them. "That should cover it."	"Hey buddy, you sure you're okay?" The
cabby asked as he got another glimpse of the charred red serge that Fraser
carried and the blackened sooty white shirt that he wore.	Fraser
gave
him a tight smile, "Fine, thank you. Good day." The cabby pulled away,
shaking his head, and Fraser looked warily down at the Consulate. There
was a car parked in front that he didn't recognize and there was no sign
of movement from Meg's window. That worried him. She was always there
at this time of day, doing paperwork or sorting through diplomatic
affairs.
Even with her promise to be careful she would be there. The Consulate
should not be so still. All right, Benton, the Mountie told himself,
you've got to do something he isn't expecting. His head ached terribly
but he forced himself to buckle down to it, What is he expecting? "He's
expecting me to be dead." Fraser muttered to himself. Barring that. His
mind echoed back. "He'd expect me to come in the front door. Enraged."
So what are you going to do? Fraser thought for a moment. "I don't have
a clue. That was the plan right there." 	He rounded the back of the
Consulate.
"The back door?" No, he would have planned for that too. "Should it worry
me that I'm carrying on a conversation with myself?" Did it worry you
when you started carrying on conversations with your father... after
his death? "Good point." Now figure out a way in there. Margaret's in
danger. He rounded the next corner and he could see the edge of her office
window. And the window to his office... It was open! Somewhere fairly
close by tires squealed loudly as a car rounded a corner at high speed.
A determined smile flitted across Fraser's face. Now that he won't expect.

	"Hello? Eh, anybody here?" The call caused Meg Thatcher to look up
from
the mound of paperwork with which she'd been busying herself. She'd tried
to stay at her apartment but she couldn't do it. She needed to do
something.
The mountains of paperwork that the RCMP required seemed to be a good
idea. Anything to keep her mind off him and the danger he was in.      
Checking
quickly to make sure the gun she kept in her desk drawer was still there,
she called out, "Yes? May I help you?" She set aside some of the paperwork
and folded her hands in her lap.	"Hello? Oh here you are!" A man of
fifty something years old meandered into her office. His hair was greying
around the sides and temples and his stomach was flat. He looked very...
eerie was the only word Meg could think of.	"I'm Inspector Thatcher.
What can I do for you?" She looked up as pleasantly as she could.      
The
man smiled at her and she shivered. There was something so... cold in
his smile. It was like looking at a glacier. "Inspector Thatcher." The
man seemed to roll her name around on his tongue and she couldn't help
but inch her hand towards the drawer that held the small silver gun.
"You had... excuse me, have a Constable Benton Fraser under your command,
don't you?"	"I do. Why are you asking?" Meg said coolly, trying to
remain
calm. Her hand was only inches away from the drawer.	"Actually the
asking
was just a formality." The man said coldly as he whipped a gun out to
point it at her heart. "Now keep your hands where I can see them,
Inspector."
"Granger." She said flatly as she laid her hands calmly on the desk.
"You are stupider than I thought. He won't let you get away with this."
She knew him too well. He would not give up. "Ah but Inspector," Granger
smiled snakily, "I don't see how he can stop me. Considering that he's
dead."	"What?" She couldn't stop the blood from draining from her face.
"Yes, I left him a little... present at my last hideout. Constable Benton
Fraser and his new partner, that detective whatever his name was, are...
well ashes by now." He sneered down at her, "Ashes to ashes..."        
Dead,
no. God, no, please. He can't be dead. He doesn't know. I never told
him... She thought she was going to be sick.	"Ah," said Granger,
watching
carefully her reaction, "So I was right. And I get the pleasure of killing
his... love. How delicious! Eradicating all he held dear!" He trained
the gun very carefully on her, "Get up Inspector." Meg didn't move; she
didn't even seem to hear him. "I said get up!" Dully, Meg stood and came
around the desk at the waving of his gun. Granger looked her over and
licked his lips, looking for all the world like a rabid wolf licking
his chops. "The Mountie did have good taste, have to give him that. I
think we may have to have some fun before you die."	He got no reaction
only a dull horror filled her. She couldn't believe it, couldn't get
past it. Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from the office next door. Granger
jumped. "It couldn't be," he muttered. Granger's gun at her neck, he
prodded Meg forward towards the door of her office and she walked slowly
towards it, like a mechanical doll.	In the doorway Granger shoved his
gun into Meg's ribs and nodded towards the closed door to the left,
"What's
behind that door?"	Still in shock and truly not comprehending a
thing,
Meg spoke dimly, "His office."	How did he survive? Granger thought taking
a step backwards into Meg's office. Nervously, he stepped backwards once
more, putting a space between him and Meg though he still held the gun
pointed at her. 	Now. The figure that had been waiting outside the
room
thought. A great crash of huge panels of glass shattering resounded
through
the room as Constable Benton Fraser dove through the bay window that
sat behind Meg's desk. He hit the floor and rolled, coming up on his
feet right behind Meg's desk.	Shock and horror were painted on Granger's
face as he whipped around with his gun to train it on the man whose death
he'd been dreaming of for so long. Meg turned as well, her eyes frozen
until she laid eyes on the man behind her desk. "Benton!" She whispered
with joy and tears rushing into her voice and molten brown eyes.       
"Mountie,"
Granger exclaimed with a chuckle, "You look awful."
	Benton Fraser stood tall behind the desk. His hair was mussed; the
cut
at his hairline was trickling a small line of blood down his set face
and the bruise with its swelling glared out like a dark badge. What was
left of the white shirt, now embedded with a thousand shards of glass,
hung raggedly off him, the torn shoulder now joined by several smaller
rips in the torso of the shirt. Still dark and heavy because of the water
they were still carrying, his boots crunched pieces of glass as he shifted
his weight. The pink burns on his neck and arm brought tears to Meg's
eyes and a twisted sense of satisfaction to Granger's. But when Benton
finally spoke he said only three words, "Let her go." And his voice was
so low and so filled with barely contained fury that Meg thought for
a moment that Granger was going to do it on the strength of that alone.
Because for some reason, even in his dilapidated and damaged state, she
had never seen the Mountie looking as dangerous and deadly as he did
right then.	The gun wavered for a second but then Granger's face
hardened
in scorn, "I think you're missing something here Mountie. I'm the one
with the gun. What do you have?"	"A partner." Fraser said without
hesitating.
Suddenly, the front door to the Consulate flew open, crashing against
the wall and Granger was frozen in shock as another dead man burst through
the door. "Chicago PD!" Ray almost screamed as he trained his Barreta
on Granger. "FREEZE!"	"You have no jurisdiction here cop!" Granger
yelled
at him, again pointing the gun towards Meg, who was still staring behind
him. "This is Canadian soil! You can't fire that gun here!"	"But I
can."
A voice of ice, not dimmed by the slight slur, resounded from behind
him and Granger felt his black heart sink in his chest. Betrayal in his
eyes, Granger flew around. The Constable was only about fifteen feet
from him now, Meg's silver pistol pointed straight at his heart. And
Granger knew the Mountie wouldn't miss. 	"You can't shoot me."
Granger
exclaimed. "You're a Mountie! There's that code of yours to remember!"
His hideous laughter rang out in the room until Benton moved a finger
and cut off the laughter with the slow solemn click of the safety being
taken off. "What?!" Granger exclaimed. He's really going to do it. His
survival instinct surfaced once more and Granger reached out to grab
the Inspector but Meg was out of his reach, having moved while he was
distracted to where she could watch the whole tableaux without being
a variable. Desperate, Granger tried to aim for the cop, his partner,
but the cop had lowered his gun and was watching from behind one of the
solid walnut walls that framed the hallway to the Consulate.	"Didn't
you realize what happens when you threaten everything a man holds dear?"
Benton's voice was still glacier hard and Granger's eyes locked on his
gun as Benton continued slowly, "You make him into the most dangerous
thing alive - a man with nothing to lose." Granger's eyes bulged and
his neck turned purple. With a vicious toss and a victorious smile, he
let the gun fall from his hand. He could always come back another time
and finish out his revenge. "What about your precious honor, Mountie?!
What will that say of you if you shoot me now?! An unarmed man!" But
Granger hadn't looked into Fraser's eyes until then, the fury and hatred
he saw there was overwhelming. From where they watched, Ray and Meg
started
as the thought ran through there minds, No, Fraser, Ben, don't! Face
straining with the effort of holding the fury and rage in, Benton spoke
again and his voice was harsh and heavy with the emotions raging inside
them, though his words kept the same slow intensity, "You murder my
sister,
you try to kill my partner and the woman I love, and you expect me to
let you live?!" Ray and Meg couldn't move; they couldn't even gasp as
his words penetrated their consciousness. Their minds stopped altogether
and they could only watch events unfold before them. Granger stared agape
at the Mountie as the man stepped forward, his rage almost a tangible
thing around him. "Your sister... partner... love..." Granger murmured
as he realized his mistake. He had underestimated the Mountie badly.
If he'd gone after Fraser directly, leaving his loved ones unharmed,
then he could have done it. He could have killed him. But by going after
the ones he loved he had burned the bridges behind him. "Yes my sister."
Benton almost spat at the man. "Remember? You ran her through five times
with a fireplace poker. Did you honestly expect..." He trailed off,
shaking
with the intensity of the emotions within him. But the gun never wavered.
Too far. Granger realized suddenly. The Mountie was going to kill him
and no one would really blame him, not after what he'd done. It had been
a mistake to kill them. There was only so much a man would take, could
take, before he fights back and the Mountie was definitely past his edge.
Granger was afraid. For the first time in his life he knew real fear.
This Mountie held his life in his hands and there was nothing he could
do. The silver barrel was trained on him; the other Mountie and the cop
would be no help. Slowly, deliberately, Benton trained the barrel of
the silver pistol and Granger knew the Mountie would not miss. He was
a dead man, and that terrified him. Granger couldn't help himself from
shaking, though he hated himself for it. The Mountie was like Nemesis
incarnate with impassive rage straining at his features and eyes like
the torrent after the spring thaw. "Please." Granger whimpered. Time
seemed to stop; it had no meaning for the three whose very lives were
in the hands of the trembling Mountie. Ray watched from his corner, he
knew what he would do no matter what Fraser decided. Fraser had to decide
on his own and whatever happened, Ray would back him. If he shot Granger
here and now, Ray would help him, testify that the man had pushed Fraser
until there was no choice. But there was a dread inside him. If Fraser
pulled the trigger, if the Mountie shot down even a man such as Granger,
then he would cease to be the man Ray had known and come to care for
a great deal. In a way, Ray's life depended on the choice he made. It's
his decision. Meg thought on the other side of the room, her mind
reminding
her mind of what her heart had decided. She would stick by him no matter
what. And in truth, she wouldn't blame him if he killed Granger. It had
been obvious how very close Benton had been with his sister. Her death
would have been an almost paralyzing blow to him. She didn't know how
he'd kept functioning. Benton stared down the barrel of the silver gun,
knowing that though his sight was clouding his aim would be true. If
he fired Granger would die. And Maggie would be avenged. His head was
swirling with thoughts and images - Maggie when he'd first seen her
walking
into the Consulate as green as he had once been, the pictures of her
body collapsed on the floor covered with her own blood, impaled on her
own fireplace poker, pictures of Gerard, his father's body on the gurney,
his mother's grave, Ray Vecchio's face as he lay bent over Irene's grave
while Benny watched from afar... The arguments that his brain was
marshalling
couldn't get through the fog that seemed to be settling over him. His
instincts screamed at him to shoot, shoot now before Granger risked
someone
else he loved. But he is unarmed, reason argued, piercing the haze. And
if you arrest him? He'll just come back. And maybe this time he'll finish
what he started, kill Meg and Ray. Can you live with that? Benton's jaw
ground against his teeth, muscles on his neck straining as his mind argued
against itself. Granger trembled before him, tears of fear and weakness
showing. Benton's pained eyes stared down at him and the Mountie swayed
where he stood, the gun wavering for a moment. Granger's breath sucked
in, I knew he couldn't do it! But the gun swung back up before the thought
even finished and it trained itself on Granger's forehead. "All you've
done..." Benton's words were obviously slurred but still understandable.
"You don't deserve to live." Meg and Ray felt their hearts sink in their
chests. God forgive him. Meg thought, closing her eyes so she wouldn't
have to watch. Ray's hands grasped onto the edge of the mahogany wall
so tightly his knuckles turned white and he squeezed his hazel eyes shut.
Benton's eyes were ice. Granger pleaded, "no. No. NO!" The gunshot echoed
in the room. Unable to avoid it, Ray opened his eyes slowly, his heart
dull in his chest. His mouth went slack as he gaped at Granger, who was
clutching his ear in shock. There was blood streaming from where the
bullet had taken a large nick out of Granger's ear but there was no fatal
damage. Benton lowered the gun slowly, "But that decision is not mine
to make. Paul Granger, alias Bert McDonnell, you are under arrest." A
smile spread over Ray's face as he came out from the mahogany partition
and walked towards his friend. Benton looked over at him, the agony
lessened.
"She wouldn't have wanted it." The tightness in his voice had miraculously
dwindled. Meg came forward and took the cuffs Vecchio offered her,
slapping
one on Granger's wrist and the other to the post of her heavy oak desk.
"Constable..." she murmured, extremely conscious of Ray standing to her
left. "Good job." She ended lamely, departing swiftly to call the police.
"Thank you Inspector." Benton said slowly, trying desperately to keep
the slur from his voice. A trembling hand held up the gun and Ray took
it from him and laid it on the table, "Fraser? You okay?" Fraser looked
at him for a moment and blinked slowly. "Fine, Ray." His words were thick,
almost beyond understanding. "Fraser?" Ray's brow furrowed and worry
flooded his eyes.
"Just fine." Fraser forced out before crumpling.
"Fraser!" Ray shouted as he lunged forward, just barely catching his
friend. Awkwardly, Ray sat on the ground, Fraser's head in his lap.
"Inspector!"
he screamed, "Call an ambulance!" He rocked slightly, holding Fraser's
head firmly. "Call an ambulance!!" 

"Really, Ray," Fraser protested as Ray half walked, half carried him
into Ray's apartment. But his words were still slurred and he winced
when his bandaged arm hit the side of the bed. "You don't have to do
this. I would be fine at my apartment." "This isn't open for discussion,
Constable." Meg said as she joined the two men. The sternness in her
voice was belied by the gentle smile she gave Benton; "The doctor left
orders to wake you up every couple of hours. That's a bad concussion
you've got. And as the director asked me to personally escort Granger
up to Toronto for trial, Detective Vecchio has been so kind." "Like I
would have let him go anywhere else." Ray scoffed good-naturedly as he
took the drug store bag she was carrying from her. "But I'm an
inconvenience
to him." Fraser protested further, trying to sit up in the bed. "He'll
have to sleep on the couch." "Lay down, Benton." Meg said firmly. Fraser
fell back against the pillows. She took his hand and he relaxed like
he'd been given a tranquilizer. "The detective will be perfectly fine.
He's a smart man. I'm sure he'll figure something out." "Not to mention
your kind Inspector here was nice enough to loan me a comfy cot for the
next couple of nights." Ray grinned wryly as he pointed to the already
set up cot. Smart man? Fraser wondered. Kind Inspector? Either this
concussion
is affecting me more than I thought or these two are the ones who need
the hospital. "Are you two feeling all right?" He asked wobbly, staring
up at them with concern. "Fine, Constable." Meg said, still holding firmly
onto his hand. "We just came to an... understanding." "Oh?" Benton said
falling backwards. The pain pill must be taking effect. He thought as
he fought with his eyelids to stay open. "Yeah, Fraser." Ray said with
a smile, "We just realized we have something in common." "What's that?"
His words were slurred; he was losing the battle. "Go to sleep, Ben."
Meg said gently laying a soft kiss on his cheek. "We'll talk when I
return."
It would seem I'm dreaming already. Benton thought hazily and then he
could fight no longer and fell to the blackness of sleep. Watching him
and the panoply of emotions that played across the sleeping man's face,
Meg couldn't help but compare it to the day before in the hospital while
they were still waiting for him to wake up. 

Meg had watched him for a little bit as he slept, lying there on the
bed like a little boy with his hair all rumpled and dark lashes making
smudges on his pale cheeks. "It's not fair." She muttered under her
breath,
caressing his cheek. "I can't and you're too scared." "Why can't you?"
Ray's voice echoed from behind her. Meg started; she'd forgotten he was
there, perched in a chair like he had been since they'd brought Fraser
in. She looked back at him blankly and he repeated calmly as he stood,
"Why can't you?" "Why can't I what?" she tried but he stared at her
solidly
with that hawk like mien and she knew it was useless. "I'm his superior
officer. Ottawa frowns on relations between superiors and their
subordinates."
Ray's voice was full of constrained fury, "In the past several days that
subordinate has damn near died more than once, Inspector! Then what?
What would Ottawa give you then as compensation for all they made you
miss?" "What am I supposed to say, Detective?" Meg cried. "Your desk
or mine?" The fury abated and Ray smiled slightly, "I was thinking more
of 'would you like to go to dinner' but whatever works for you." "Why
are you trying so hard, Detective?" Meg said wearily. She'd been through
more pain in these past few days than he could see and it wasn't easy
for her to talk about this. It wasn't easy at all. Ray looked down at
Fraser for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "Because he cares for you.
For whatever reason he loves you. And Fraser deserves love for once."
Indignation boiled up in Meg to cover the pain and joy that lit through
her, "So what, Detective? Do I get no say in this? Just because he cares
for me I'm supposed to drop everything and be with him regardless of
how I feel?" "Don't play that game with me!" Ray snapped, moving
dangerously
close to her. "You may be able to fool him but you can't fool me. I've
seen how you look at each other. I was there when you came into the office
and saw him unconscious. I was with you in the ambulance. Don't you dare
try to lie to me!" She couldn't say anything. He was right. Even if she
could have said a word, he wouldn't have given her a chance; Ray kept
on going. "He doesn't deserve what you're doing to him! He's in love
with you! He doesn't just like you, or care for you, or even anything
so tame as has feelings for you. He is in LOVE with you. You've been
screwing around with his heart and he deserves better." "I don't know
what you're talking about it." She hadn't been able to look him in the
eyes. He looked at her incredulously for a moment, then began to pace
in front of the narrow hospital bed as he spoke in a steely tone, "All
right then Inspector. We'll play your way. As best I can gather, some
time back, like around that nuclear incident with Vecchio, you two
actually
got around to giving some hint of how you feel for each other. Some very
large, very clear, undeniable hint. You avoided the subject for a bit
but then you," he looked at her with green eyes as hard as emeralds,
"and I am 100% positive it was you, did something along the lines of
telling him nothing could happen." He could tell by her face that he
was right. "I'm not sure what your rational was behind that idiotic move
but it was probably something along the lines of you were terrified of
the feelings, or maybe you've been hurt before, but most probably it
was something along the lines of you didn't want him to feel pressured
into a relationship because of a moment of romance in an intense
situation."
Again, she stared at him, agape at the depth of his insight. "But don't
you realize?" Ray's voice was rising in intensity. "In trying not to
pressure him, you pressured him not to FEEL! And locked him into this
emotional hell which he can't get out of because of you! So yes, he's
afraid! He has every damn right to be. Love has eluded him, betrayed
him, left him for dead. But he was willing to get past that! He was
willing
to try again with you! But you had to go and ruin it. So now it's up
to you Inspector. Either make your move or let him know there's no chance,
but don't leave him hanging like this, in this emotional limbo. And if
you lose what's between you, if he won't risk it after being hurt so
much, then you have no one to blame but yourself." Eventually he ran
out of the intensity that fueled him, looking at his friend's still form
did that to him. "Oh Lord." Meg whispered as she sagged into one of the
hospital's vinyl chairs. She hadn't thought of that. She hadn't considered
what her thoughtless words would do. A moan from the bed made her start
and spring to his side, "Benton?" Ray glanced down at the bed, at the
man's taut and drawn face, and realized what was happening. "He's not
awake, Inspector." His voice was hoarse and he looked away, unable to
watch again the pain his friend endured. "What?" She leaned closer to
him as anther moan escaped the Mountie's lips but Ray was right, his
eyes were still shut. "I don't understand." Ray leaned his forehead
against
the window, knowing there was nothing he could do. The doctors had ordered
specifically that the Mountie be left alone until he woke naturally;
he couldn't wake his friend to save him from the night. "He has
nightmares,
Inspector." "What?" Meg repeated dully, turning to glance at Ray's back.
"Come now," Ray's voice was weary now; he didn't know if he could stand
the sight of his friend's pain again. "Surely you've had nightmares
before?"
"But... I don't understand."
Ray spoke very slowly like she was a child, "He... has... night... mares.
Every night." "But why?" She sounded so very young.
"You've got to be kidding me." Ray barked. "In his lifetime, he's been
abandoned emotionally and physically for all intents and purposes by
his father, seen his home burn down twice, fell in love only to arrest
her the first time and be betrayed by her the second, found and lost
a sister, lost one partner to a brutal murderer, grown to be a brother
to another partner only to lose him, been shot in the back by his best
friend, and fallen in love with another woman only to have her eternally
put at a distance to him just close enough to tease him with what he
could never have. And that's not even getting down to specific events
that he blames himself for. Why do you think he has nightmares?" Meg
backed away for a moment at the vehemence in his voice. "I... I... didn't
know." Ray didn't say the words but she heard them echo in her head,
You should have. Shaken beyond words, Meg kneeled beside the hospital
bed and took the limp hand in her own. Time passed endlessly as Fraser
moaned and tossed upon the starched bed. And then, to Ray's immense
surprise,
she started to sing, ever so softly, "We're gonna ride forever. You can't
keep horsemen in a cage. Should the angels call, well it's only then,
we might pull in the reins." She kept on singing softly and Ray settled
into a chair with the slightest of smiles. The Inspector looked almost
beautiful there and the song she sang was so fitting to Fraser that Ray
couldn't help but think that he'd been too hard on her. But the most
amazing thing of all happened then. As Meg sang on, holding tightly to
the hand of the man she loved, Benton's thrashing quieted. The heart
shattering moans quieted and then ceased and he lay there still, his
tormented face smoothing into passivity. "Amazing." Ray whispered as
Meg's voice faded to silence. The silence stretched on for long minutes
as Ray gathered his courage. "Inspector." He said, a touch of hoarseness
in his voice. Her brown eyes looked up and met hazel ones and Ray fought
back a wince from the sight of the tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to come down so harsh." "I didn't expect anything less. You're his
friend." She gave him a watery smile. "Ohmm." Two sets of eyes jerked
to the bed and Ray near flung himself to the opposite side as Meg. He
grasped Fraser's other hand tightly as his friend's eyes flickered. Come
on buddy. He shouted inside, just barely holding onto the restraint that
kept him from shaking his friend awake. Two slits of icy clear blue
flickered
into existence and Ray heard Meg gasp from across the bed. But he didn't
really care. He just held tightly to the limp hand in his. The slits
of eyes flickered over him and Ray thought he saw the faintest of smiles
grace Fraser's lips and the hand in his squeezed back. It was weak but
Ray could feel it and it made his hazel eyes light up with joy. Then
the blue eyes shifted as drops of wetness fell onto Benton's left hand.
Benton tried feebly to lift his hand in wonder, to wipe away her tears
but he was too tired. His eyes asked the question for him and she smiled
through her tears. He tried to speak but she shushed him, lifting his
limp hand to her lips. The piercing blue gaze returned to Ray and Ray
understood the question therein. Is this a dream? The grin on Ray's craggy
face impossibly widened and his voice rang with tones of joy as he said,
"About time you joined us, partner." The confusion in Fraser's eyes turned
to disbelief as he glanced back at the Inspector and Meg knew she had
to say something. "Next time," Meg started, choking on her own words,
"next time, you tell me everything. No more making me worry like that...
Ben." The disbelief turned to joy and he wanted to say something, but
the exhaustion still had him strong in its grip and his eyes flickered.
Shades of fear and a touch of desperation sprang into his eyes as he
realized he was fighting a losing battle against the darkness. "It's
okay, Ben." Meg said, recognizing his distress. "I'll be here when you
wake." Still there was a shadow of fear in Benton's blue eyes when they
turned onto Ray and Ray hastened to reassure him. "I'm not going anywhere
either buddy. Not a chance." He understood the Mountie's fear - last
time he'd looked away, he'd lost his best friend. The indomitable Mountie
could fight no longer - the blue eyes closed. And Benton slept. 

Daylight was streaming in from somewhere, painful against the closed
eyelids. Benton heard a ragged moan and realized vaguely that it came
from him. "Benny?" The voice came from somewhere to the left of him and
he heard the whoosh of curtains as the light dimmed. "Ray?" Ben forced
his eyes to open. Grinning hazel eyes hovered above him. It was most
definitely Ray. "Are you feeling okay? Need anything?" 
"You've done more than enough." Ben said as he pushed himself to a sitting
position. "How long have I been asleep?" "Two days. Give or take." Ray
swung himself into a chair. "You should eat." One of Fraser's eyebrows
lifted and he asked wryly, "Are you cooking?" "No." Ray said pointedly,
though the smile didn't fade. "I had Huey bring by some food from the
club. Trust me, it's safe." Fraser grinned back at him though the smile
faded after a moment. His blue eyes shifted to the wall. "She was all
the family I had left." Though his voice was steady in its softness,
Ray knew that it was taking a great deal of strength to keep it that
way. Ray didn't need to ask who Fraser was talking about. His own smile
faded into nothingness as he looked at his friend. Fraser pressed the
heels of his palms against the low brow of his forehead; a repression
of great pain, Ray well knew. "No, Fraser." He laid a hand on his friend's
shoulder and squeezed. "You still have a family. Ma Vecchio thinks of
you as another son, Maria and Tony consider you a brother, the Vecchio
kids are sure you're their uncle, even Frannie thinks of you as a brother
now that she's gotten over that crush. And there's Vecchio." Ray winced
slightly as Fraser flinched, "I know he considers you a brother." Fraser
looked up at him and Ray could almost see the words floating in his eyes,
He left. "He'll be back. And I know he didn't want to leave." Ray's voice
was firm. "And there's Lt. Welsh. We both know he thinks of you as one
of his men. And there's the Inspector. She's in love with you." Fraser
licked his lips and Ray could see the unsuriety in his eyes. "She does
love you, Fraser. She'll tell you so herself when she gets back." Hazel
eyes bored straight into Fraser's soul and Ray struggled to keep his
own voice level, "And there's me." Oh God Ray, I'm sorry. I didn't mean
to sound... "I know, Ray. And you are a brother to me. I'm sorry. It's
just..." "It's all right, Fraser." Ray said with a smile. "I know." And
he did. Fraser swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm sorry I
didn't tell you about Maggie. I know you were interested in her. But..."
"Fraser stop apologizing." Ray said as he helped his friend stand. "You
were hurting. It's not your fault. I know you. Keeping it in was the
only way you were going to keep functioning. I don't blame you for that."
The two made it into the kitchen and Ray helped Fraser into a chair.
"I should change that bandage." Ray said with a quirky smile, gesturing
to Fraser's arm. Fraser watched with a musing expression on his face
as Ray carefully unwrapped the bandage from his burned arm. "Ray, could
you do me another favor?" Fraser asked as Ray finished tucking in the
edge of the new bandage a minute later. "Sure, Fraser. Anything." Ray
was shocked. Fraser almost never came right out and asked for favors.
"Well, Turnbull should be picking Dief up in about an hour. Could you
swing by the Consulate and pick him up? Or drop me off there?" "Don't
even think about it, Fraser." Ray said with a laugh as he pushed his
friend back into the chair. "I will go get Dief and bring him here. If
you move even two steps from this apartment Thatcher will kill me. And
I'll kill you." Fraser gave Ray an answering grin. "So you stay put.
I kinda like my head where it is." "All right. All right." Fraser said
with as much a laugh as his bruised ribs would allow. "I promise I'll
stay put." "And be good." Ray commanded as he threw on his jacket. 
"I'll try." The completely sincere expression on Fraser's face made Ray
laugh even more as he sauntered towards the door. "Hey Fraser, that
reminds
me." Ray said as he stopped suddenly and looked to his friend. "How did
you know about the Grinder?" Fraser turned scarlet and started to pull
at the neck of the shirt Ray had lent him. "Well you see, it all started
with the Canadian ambassador's daughter... I was asked to entertain her
but she had other ideas. And..." He was getting flustered again. And
Ray was looking at him with one blond eyebrow raised in sheer amusement.
Fraser licked his lips twice, then gave up and said feebly, "Don't forget
to get some of his food while you're at the Consulate, please Ray." He
could hear Ray's laughter echoing until long after the GTO had speed
away. 

	"What are you doing out of bed, Benton?" Meg's voice rang out in
the
small apartment and Benton jerked up from the book he was reading.     
"Just...
reading Insp... Meg." Fraser fumbled as he fought to decide whether to
stand and risk her wrath or stay put. "I didn't know you were due back
today." His words tumbled over themselves. Clumsy hands dropped the book
they were trying to close, then dropped it again when he tried to replace
it on the table. Finally, with a definite thunk, Fraser got the book
settled on the table and turned to the Inspector with placid face, "So
how was your trip?"	Meg couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing.
"It was very... uneventful, Ben." She said between laughs.	Fraser
looked
at her, a look on his face a mix of curiosity and hurt. "Oh no, Benton."
Meg said as she saw his face, forcing herself to choke down the laughter.
"I'm not laughing at you. It's just I must have imagined what you would
say at least a hundred times since I left and somehow 'how was your trip?'
never made it into the scenarios."	Fraser blushed. "Well... I...
um..."
He hated this. There was only one other person who could do this to him
and that person was, quite frankly, dead. The door cracked open but
neither
occupant noticed.	Meg shook her dark head. It seemed she was going
to
have to do all the work. "Ben, there's something I need to tell you.
I... well, do you remember on the train... I know I told you to forget
but..." Ben's blue eyes flashed intensely; he remembered that well, "I
told you that, well that it could never happen again... I was your
superior...
Ottawa... I was trying to keep you from feeling pressured." She blurted
out suddenly. "I didn't want you to feel that just because I was your
superior officer that you had to return any affection I might have for
you. I didn't want... I was trying to keep the pressure off you." She
took a deep breath. "I realize now that I handled it very badly. I didn't
think... I didn't think. And it created a misunderstanding between us...
I wanted... I felt that same..."	Just tell him already! Ray thought
exasperatedly as he and Dief watched the scene through the partially
open door. He hadn't thought he would come back to intrude on such a
happening and the look on his face was one of relish.	Meg was blushing
scarlet now and her brown eyes were nearing despair. She didn't know
how to do things like this; she'd never been good at it. And Fraser was
still staring at her, his face like carved stone.	But then Benton
was
moving towards her and she saw emotion surging through his eyes, and
muscles tightened at his jaw, betraying the depths of feeling within
him. "Red suits you, Meg." His voice was deep and husky and she felt
her heart race wildly in her chest. It seemed to her everyone on the
earth must hear it at that moment, with its painful beats against her
chest.	She laid her hand over her heart half in embarrassment, "I never
thought it could beat so fast." 	He laid one of his strong hands
over
hers then brought her hand slowly over to where she could feel his heart
beating, "Out of control."	"A runaway." She whispered back, drowning
in the emotions blaring out of his eyes. Then suddenly his eyes were
coming closer, drawing her in and giving himself to her all at once.
And she tilted her head up, her eyes closing, I love you. And then his
lips were on hers and there was no thinking, no words could be formed
to float through her brain. There was only him - his arms holding her
tightly to him, almost crushing in their strength; his hand tangling
itself in her hair; his lips plundering hers with the strength of all
the feeling in his heart; his strong body the only thing keeping her
upright as waves of passion and love left her suddenly weak in the knees.
Hazel eyes widened in awe and Ray drew back from the door, "wow." He
had never seen such passion, such feeling from the two Mounties.       
After
an endless eternity, the two drew apart slightly and Meg gasped for
breath.
Limp with relief and feeling, she leaned her head against his chest,
"I love you Benton." She felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath
and looked up worriedly, "What? What did I say?"	His eyes were ever
so clear, welling with tears as he looked down at her with ages of
surpressed
love on his face. A trembling hand reached up and caressed her face,
"No one..." he swallowed hard, "No one has ever said that to me before.
I've never heard the words." His voice was very small and she could feel
him tremble in her arms.	"Oh Benton." A few of the tears that she
had
been just barely held back spilled over and she spoke fervently, "I will
tell you every day for the rest of eternity. I love you. I will never
let you go again." Strong thumbs wiped the tears off her cheeks and his
lips pressed against hers again. Then he was just holding her, holding
her as tightly as she held him, and burying his face in her hair.	"I
love you, Meg. I will always love you." She felt a drop on her hair and
knew that tears of his own were escaping. But that was all right. This
time they were tears of joy. 

	"Come on Dief." Ray said as the two drew away from the door.
"Let's
go get a donut." He started towards the stairs whistling with a happy
skip in his step.	But the wolf didn't move from the door and turned
his furry head towards Ray to whine.	"No." Ray said firmly as he came
back to grab the wolf firmly by the neck. "You cannot stay and watch.
Not unless you want the Inspector to turn you into a hat or a rug or
something." Tail falling between his legs, Dief went willingly with the
cop. "I thought not. Besides, since when have you turned down a free
donut?" The wolf gave a happy little bark and followed it up with a series
of yips. Suddenly Ray stopped in his tracks. He looked down at the wolf,
staring at it for a long moment. Then he threw his hands up in the air,
"Great! Now I'm having conversations with a deaf wolf!!! It's catching!"
Diefenbaker whined and chased after Ray as Ray hopped into the GTO
muttering,
"Wonderful. Next thing you know I'll have this insatiable urge to taste
some dirt!" 

Finita