Disclaimer and Warnings: dueSouth and its characters belong to Alliance and Paul Haggis. No copy right infringement is intended. Mild m/m. Child endangerment. Sap (as always!)

March Madness

by Cheryl Barnes



“HELLLLLLLLLLLLLP!!!!!!”

The high, shrill scream of the child pierced the insulating layers of walls and furnishings of the Vecchio house as if they didn’t exist.

“What the . . .” Tony snapped apprehensively and thrust his portly body away from the televised NCAA ball game.

“Sounds like my Katie!” Pat O’Connel, a beer buddy of Tony’s, cried in his light Irish brogue as he abandoned his place on the couch.

Ray’s lithe frame had already catapulted through the doorway and Tony flung himself out of the den after Pat.

Five prepubescent children, dressed in heavy jackets and knitted caps, angrily faced each other under a dour March sky. Eleven-year-old Katie O’Connel, long blonde plaits whipping in the brisk wind, stood straight in the center of the Vecchio backyard, her mouth wide open in the middle of a shriek. She clutched a brightly colored square of plastic to her chest. Concerned neighbors were arriving on the scene, drawn by the girl’s terror filled screams.

Gino, Tony’s eldest at ten years, stood several paces away from her, his dark olive face knotted in blazing animosity, hands balled in frustrated impotence.

Little Theresa pelted toward Tony as fast as her tiny legs could pump. “Poppa, Poppa, Katie hit me . . .”

Tony caught her up in his arms as the little girl broke into sobs in the crook of his neck. Despite being relieved that nobody was going to need last rites, Tony began to be quite irritated. Illinois’ Northwestern Wildcats had just started pulling ahead in the opening rounds of the NCAA tournament when the scream had interrupted them.

“Hush, hush, bambino. Your poppa’s got you now,” Tony murmured soothingly to the little girl, checking to make sure she hadn’t been injured. Satisfied with what little he could see around her coat padded body, he looked toward his son and the O’Connel girl.

The girl thrust her chin out belligerently and shrieked, “He’s gonna hit me! He’s gonna hit me!”

“Wasn’t!” Gino denied indignantly. Sable hair tumbled over his eyes and his smudged fist pushed it away intolerantly.

Ray skidded to a stop by Gino and bellowed at them both to shut up. “You wanna tell me what this is about?”

O’Connel shook his daughter roughly by the arm. “Katie, darlin’. What are ye brawlin’ for?”

“Gino’s gonna hit me!” she repeated, her words more surly than fearful now.

Gino blurted, “Nobody hits my sister!”

Ray crouched on one knee so he was at eye level with the antagonists, the angle mercilessly revealing his thinning hair. “Gino, listen to me. It’s good you take care of your little sister, but let’s see if we can do this without signin’ up for the Muhammad Ali school for beginners.”

O’Connel jerked Katie about to face him. “You hit the little girl? Katie O’Connel! Why’d ya do such a thing?”

For the first time Katie looked like she knew she wasn’t going to be treated like the victim. Defiantly, she protested, “She hit me first, Pa!”

Behind them, the other O’Connel siblings made affirming noises, but between Ray’s reprimanding glance and O’Connel’s fierce blue gaze they hushed immediately.

Theresa squirmed in Tony’s arms. “She had my kite, Poppa!”

Tony groaned, annoyed. His irritation was matched by Ray and O’Connel. All this squabble over a kite. Behind him, he could hear the neighbors murmur in disgust as they took in the information. Some of them moved on as they lost interest in the childish scene.

Katie’s face embodied resentment. “I just wanted to look at it.”

Gino sought Tony’s eyes indignantly. “Poppa, Katie was gonna fly Theresa’s kite! That’s not allowed!”

“And why not?” Katie asked stridently. “We fly kites all the time at home.”

Ray ran a soothing hand over the back of Gino’s heavy coat and engaged the girl’s attention firmly. “We don’t fly kites here.”

“Why not?” She demanded querulously, shucking off O’Connel’s restraining arm.

Gino pointed up. “Wires, stupid! Look at the wires!”

Tony followed Gino’s out flung hand even though he knew what his figlio was referring to. In their crowded neighborhood, power lines crisscrossed the open spaces between the houses as thickly as strands of tatted lace.

Ray fixed his nephew with a stern green eye. “Gino, don’t call a guest stupid.”

“Well, she is for wantin’ to fly a kite here,” he mumbled sullenly. Tony recognized the Vecchio temper in those dark eyes.

Ray looked directly at the young girl. “Aren’t you familiar with the rules of kite flying?”

“Yeah, “ she retorted, a smart aleck flip to her blonde braids. “You toss the kite up in the air and run!”

Theresa wriggled down. “No! Rules, Katie! You only fly a kite in a park or in the open.”

One of the other O’Connel children stirred. “You don’t fly a kite in a thunderstorm cause Ben Franklin said so.”

Tony guffawed and Ray struggled to stifle a laugh.

Gino finished triumphantly, “And you don’t fly a kite near electrical lines! Too dangerous. Don’t want to be ‘lectrocuted, do you?”

Ray looked at Tony for a second, his concern clear before making eye contact with O’Connel. “We don’t let the kids fly their kites here because of the danger of running into the street as well as hitting the power lines overhead.” He turned to Katie, his voice and face in full cop mode. “Do you understand, Katie? Kite flying is not allowed here.”

“Nuthin’s happened before, nuthin’ will.” She thrust the brightly colored kite at Theresa. “Here, keep your old kite. I don’t want it.”

Theresa took it and held the plastic and wood diamond with a fierce possessiveness, the colors bright against her long sable curls and dark blue coat.

“We’ll talk more when we get home, lass.” O’Connel said roughly as he stood.

She flipped her nose away from her father, her attitude clearly unconcerned with any further censure.

Ray exchanged an exasperated sigh with Tony, then declared, “Cookies! Fresh baked cookies in the house! Eat ‘em up before we have to throw them out or feed them to the wolf!”

“YAY!!!!!!!!”

Mass joy met his proclamation. All five kids raced to the house, including Theresa still hugging the kite tightly. Katie barely beat Gino to the door and the two eyed each other fiercely as they disappeared into the kitchen.

As the adults followed, Ray asked, “Think we should take that kite away from them, just in case?”

Tony, envisioning further outcries from Theresa’s own set of volatile lungs, shook his head. “Nah. I’ll think they’ll be fine.” A few drops of rain hit his head and Tony picked up his pace.

O’Connel agreed with a nod of his fine blonde head. “Katie is a good girl. She won’t be bothering the little one over the likes of the kite again.”

“Good!” Ray seemed as ready to dismiss it as the rest of them. “Then let’s get back to the game! I wanna see the Wildcats win!”

***********

The men settled back into their places in the Vecchio den. Tony parked his ample posterior into his well worn easy chair, and picked up the drink he had abandoned earlier. Ray and O’Connel plunked down on opposite ends of the couch, a huge bowl of pretzels balanced on the cushions between them.

The crowd, ballistic over some superlative play, roared approval and the commentators tripped over their tongues with hyperbole over the skill of the athletes. Tony moaned, “We’ve missed the best part of the game!”

The noise from the tube doubled as a purple and white garbed player stole the basketball and Northwestern raced down the court for an uncontested shot. As one, the men in the room cheered and shouted in support for their chosen team.

The middle of the second quarter found the game points high and tied when the light streaming in from the hallway was suddenly blocked, jarring Tony’s attention from the screen. He glanced up to see the red clothed figure of the Mountie pausing at the door frame, sunlight glowing about him like a halo. “Hi, Fraser.”

The Mountie’s serenity contrasted sharply with the boisterous spirit of the room. “Good afternoon, Tony.”

Ray straightened on the couch and turned to smile up at the tall man. “Hey, Benny. Standing guard duty today?”

Tony watched the Mountie move to stand behind his brother-in-law.

“Yes, Ray.”

Tony rolled his eyes at the intimate smile they exchanged. You would think they were randy teenagers instead of a long term couple.

The broadcast broke for a commercial. O’Connel’s voice boomed through the room. “Look at the likes of you! Bright and crisp you are as a stick of cherry candy!”

The Mountie looked across at the man sitting at the other end of the couch, his eyebrows arching lightly in surprise at the roughness of the address.

Tony hastened to introduce them. “Pat, this is Benton Fraser, RCMP.”

“RCM- what? Whatever you be, take care. In that outfit, the ladies will make short work o’ you.”

The Mountie set his Stetson on the end table by Ray. Tony cringed as Fraser started his familiar litany. “Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I wear the scarlet tunic upon many formal and semi-formal occasions including, but not exclusive to, standing on guard in front of the embassy.”

“Where Benny is always alert to any sign of invasion against his homeland,” Ray quipped.

A small smile tugged at the side of Fraser’s lips.

Tony offered explanation, “Pat’s wife is a Soft Hands dealer, just like Frannie. They’re having a lotion demo or something at the O’Connel house this afternoon. Ma and Maria went with them.”

Ray reached for the remote to turn the sound up as the game came back on the air. “We got stuck watching the kids.”

Tony grunted, his interest already drifting back to the players lining up at court side. “At least they took the baby with them.”

Fraser pointedly glanced from one side of the room to the other. “Looking after the children?”

O’Connel grinned. “Amusin’ themselves, they are. Big enough to stay out o’ trouble. Look, they substituted the center!”

Tony, snagged by the excitement of the racing players, barely heard Fraser’s answering, “Ah.”

The Illinois team scored ten unanswered points. Tony went as crazily excited as the crowd on the tv screen. O’Connel pounded the couch, screaming in delight. Engrossed in the game, he barely heard Theresa when she scampered by the door, calling, “Poppa, Poppa, the rain’s stopped. We’re gonna go outside to play.”

Only the buzzer signaling the end of the second quarter broke Tony’s concentration. With a start, he blinked and turned down the sound. “Wow, what a game! We’ll be bragging about Northwestern for a week!”

“Aye!” O’Connel stretched in his seat. Stopping abruptly, he asked, “What’s become o’ Ray?”

Tony glanced around. There wasn’t any sign of his brother-in-law. Or the Mountie. He sighed to himself and bent over with a grunt to retrieve a pop can where it had rolled under the chair. “He’s probably up stairs gettin’ himself some.”

Respect strummed the Irish lilt of O’Connel’s words. “In the afternoon? Lucky lad!”

Tony finally snagged the elusive can. Absently, he muttered, “Yeah, the Mountie’s home.”

As he tossed the can into the trash, he became aware of the strained silence. He twisted around to see O’Connel frowning at him in consternation.

“Eh? What has the Red One’s coming got to do with the lad gettin’ himself some?”

Oops. He had forgotten that O’Connel wasn’t aware of Ray’s peculiar relationship with Fraser.

He stuttered in embarrassment, hoping to make light of it. “Yeah -- they - uh, consider themselves married.”

Tony hoped O’Connel would let it go at that.

No chance. O’Connel slapped his can against the end table. “Queer? Your brother-in-law is a three dollar bill? No way! He’s a cop!”

Tony shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Wasn’t easy for us to accept either, but hey, he’s family.”

“He’s not your family, boyo. I’d be gettin’ a divorce!” Disgust saturated the fair man’s words.

White anger blazed through Tony, narrowing his eyes and hunching his shoulders aggressively. “You want I should leave my Maria and the kids? You best be thinkin’ again, O’Connel.”

O’Connel appeared taken aback by Tony’s animosity. “No, no, Tonio.” His tone conciliatory with amends. “Wasn’t suggestin’ you dump your woman. I’m just wonderin’ why you haven’t put the space of at least a city block ‘tween you and them.”

Tony, mollified somewhat, said less belligerently, “It works out, us livin’ here with Maria’s ma. She helps us, we help her. Never know when this job’s gonna pan out. And the kids, we know they got a good place to grow up.”

“Good place? In a home with two perverts?”

Tony growled, “Get off it, O’Connel. Fraser and Ray are okay.”

The words deliberately emphasizing neglect, O’Connel sneered, “Aren’t you afraid they’ll hurt your little ones?”

Tony bristled. “They’re gay, O’Connel, not pedophiles or phedowiles or whatever you call them. Besides, they do baby sitting for the best price. Free!”

O’Connel’s revulsion was palpable. “I’d thought you’d be afraid one of them would make a pass at you.”

Tony snickered. “They don’t look at nobody but each other. It’s pathetic. Ray ain’t dated a woman since he took up with Fraser.”

“What about the Red One? You can’t tell me the women don’t bedevil his every step.”

Tony grinned slyly and couldn’t resist making the dig. “You think he’s a good lookin’ man, O’Connel?”

Startled, O’Connel stuttered in embarrassment, “Uh, ah.”

Tony chuckled maliciously. “Yeah, he’s got looks the women like. Francesca chased him for years until those two came outta the closet. She about made Ray into ravioli stuffin’ at first, accused him of stealing her man away.”

“What would a decent girl like your sister want with the likes of him?”

Exasperated, Tony exclaimed, “Cause Fraser is a *good* man. He’s more honest than a priest during mass. He’s certainly a lot better than all those losers Frannie kept dragging home after her divorce. Ma prayed novena after novena to see Fraser part of the family. She just didn’t reckon on him couplin’ up with Ray instead of Frannie.”

Disgust rolled off O’Connel in waves. “You’re as perverted as them, stayin’ under the same roof.”

Tony shot to the edge of his chair; his chins thrusting forward, hands balling up into fists. “You wanna say that again, O’Connel?”

The two belligerents glared, each daring the other to strike first. In the pregnant silence came the high strangled cry of a child screaming in terror. Tony dismissed it, remembering the O’Connel brat’s bid for attention earlier. O’Connel’s eyes barely flicked away from Tony’s, never lowering the challenging angle of his jaw.

The stand off broke down at the pounding of feet down the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony caught a glimpse of pale pink flesh and white cloth as Fraser streaked by. That startled him more than the childish shriek. The whiny strains of Ray’s “Bennnnny!” preceded the clomping of more feet down the steps. Ray, clothed only in jeans with bare feet and torso, ran past the den entrance. Tony could clearly hear him pleading, “Benny! Fool Mountie! Haven’t you ever heard of crying wolf? Bennnnnny!”

Tony forgot all about the fight and hustled after the fleeing figures, O’Connel hard on his heels. Muttering under his breath about stupid brats, Tony was ready to throw all the O’Connels out of the house and march Maria and the kids straight home from the Soft Hands demo, no matter what kind of fuss Francesca would make.

Huffing, Tony burst into the backyard. His breath caught in his throat. He had expected a repeat of the children squabbling over some imagined slight. Instead, he was met by the sight of sobbing, terrified children huddled together and the heavy odor of burnt ozone despite the cold, brisk wind.

Theresa screamed, “We told her not to fly the kite!”

Katie O’Connel lay flat on her back on the ground, as still as death. Fraser, clothed only in thin white boxers, knelt over her, tearing open her coat to press his fingers on her neck.

Ray crouched opposite him, pushing up the cuff of the heavy coat, searching for a pulse on her wrist. “Benny, she’s not breathing.”

“I’m not getting a heart beat either, Ray. Glassy eyes, pale skin.” There was an ominous pause and they exchanged grim expressions. “Electrical shock, Ray.”

Behind him, O’Connel gasped. He shoved Tony aside in his madness to get to his daughter.

“Get away from her, you faggot!” Strong as a beserker, O’Connel physically tore Fraser away from the little girl.

The Mountie scudded on the damp ground, his bare shoulders already mottled red from the brutal grasp. He scrambled to his feet as O’Connel gathered the limp form in his arms.

Tony groaned. The kid had flown the kite too near the electrical lines. And on damp grass, too. Was she dead? She certainly appeared to be from the lifeless sway of her unresponsive body.

Ray swore violently then bellowed, “Gino, go call 911. Tell them we need to do CPR.”

The dark haired boy, startled into action, ran to do his Uncle Ray’s bidding. A neighbor came forward and comforted the screaming O’Connel child, hushing her high errie keening. Able to think again, Tony crossed to Theresa and the third O’Connel daughter, hugging them both to his side.

Ray bent close to O’Connel and barked harshly, “Can you do CPR, Pat?”

O’Connel wailed, “She’s not breathing! She’s not breathing!”

“Pat, let us give her mouth to mouth resuscitation. We’ve been trained for this.”

O’Connel began to shake his daughter, as if that could wake her.

Ray grabbed the man’s arms and stilled them. “Pat, let us help her!”

O’Connel roared. “Keep your filthy queer hands off me!”

Ray refused to budge.

In the middle of a string of obscenities, O’Connel suddenly reared his fist back and thrust forward fiercely, pummeling Ray’s nose in traumatic rage.

Ray stumbled back, blood pouring down his face, dripping onto the dark skin of his chest. Holding his nose with one gore smeared hand, he whirled toward Tony and screamed, “He’s your friend! Convince him or she dies!”

Tony pushed Theresa and the other child toward a familiar face in the surrounding throng. He fell to his knees besides the wailing father, all thoughts of their earlier altercation long gone. “Pat! You want your daughter should die?”

Tears formed and rolled down the man’s face. “Nooo! Not me Katie!”

“Then give Fraser and Ray the chance! I can’t help her. You can’t help her. But they *can*!”

Fraser, silent and solemn, knelt across from Tony. Despite his state of undress, he didn’t appear to be affected by the frigid air. The need for urgency practically pulsated from Fraser’s eyes.

“Pat, I trust Fraser with my life. I’d trust him with my Gino’s and Theresa’s lives!” He emphasized his point with an expletive. “Come on, Pat! Fraser is a Mountie. He can do anything!”

O’Connel’s terrified eyes met Tony’s, then tuned to Fraser. Slowly , he began to loosen his death grip on the child. “Save my Katie . . .”

Fraser swung her out of his arms immediately. Tony pulled O’Connel back as Fraser laid the body out straight; the small pinched face, an unhealthy state of pale and blue shadows.

Smoothly, no movements wasted, the Mountie tilted the blonde head back and leaned his ear against her mouth and nose. “Still no breathing, Ray.”

Ray scooted in on the opposite side of the girl, blood still flowing in spurts from his abused nostrils down the sides of his jaw and neck. He placed sensitive fingertips along the arteries on the frail, thin neck, his olive skin startling in contrast with the pale flesh he touched.

Fraser pinched the small nose, took a breath, and blew air into the slack mouth.

Ray looked up. “No response, Benny.” Moving quickly, he folded his hands, one on top of the other just over the lower part of the breastbone. He pressed downward, firmly, authoritatively, repetively. One, two, three . . . . at the fifth he paused and looked at Fraser.

Fraser shook his head and bent to inflate her lungs with more life sustaining air.

Over and over again, the two worked in tandem, breathing air in, compressing the area around the heart, keeping the lungs open and blood flowing through her circulatory system. Breath, pause, palpate, check pulse, breath. Again. And again.

Tony grasped his friend’s shoulders. Without conscious volition, he began praying. “Dear, God, don’t let her die. Sweet Mary, preserve this little one.”

O’Connel’s frame shuddered and trembled under his fingers.

Fraser worked on; Ray with him in perfect harmony.

Suddenly, there was a rise in the little chest and a harsh gasp escaped the young throat.

“I have a pulse, Benny!”

The Mountie drew back, body tensed, ready to resume the resuscitation if necessary. With a heavy rasp of abused respiratory passages, the child’s attempts to draw air into her body faltered and jerked, but as the precious seconds dragged by, she managed to fill her lungs and exhale several times on her own. Awareness returned to the lifeless eyes and she whimpered weakly, “Pa?”

This time Fraser didn’t hesitate to relinquish the child to O’Connel as the fair man swooped to gather his child into his arms. Fraser cautioned him against blocking her airway as O’Connel held her tenderly.

Tony, who had forgotten to breath himself, found himself drawing much needed air into his own lungs. Gino slipped up to lean against his side and Tony pressed him close, thanking God in a low mummer for the girl’s recovery.

“I called 911, Pop. I gave the lady our address. When she wanted to know what we were doing, I told her the Mountie was taking care of her.”

Tony patted his son’s shoulder comfortingly. “Good job, figlio mio.”

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“Fraser seems to think so.”

Tony watched as the Mountie checked the little girl’s pulse one more time and then swung gracefully to his feet to join Ray who had moved a few paces away. Ray had a hand over his nose, pinching it shut to finish closing off the bleeding. The long lean body shivered in the cold.

The Mountie touched the bridge of Ray’s nose gingerly. “I don’t think it’s broken, Ray.”

“How would you know? You aren’t on the inside of this -- ow!” He stopped to howl as Fraser found a sensitive spot. Raising a blood stained finger, he brushed at one of the finger lines imprinted on Fraser’s pale shoulder. “This is what we get for helping, Benny. You’re gonna bruise.”

Fraser reproved mildly. “We couldn’t let her die, Ray, no matter the personal provocation.”

Ray was very serious and solemn, all hint of animosity gone. “I know, Benny. I know.”

O’Connel looked up at that. Tony grunted in delighted satisfaction to see the flush of guilt spread over the fair man’s face. Fraser shuddered as if feeling the bite of the bitter air for the first time.

Ray tugged on the nude shoulder. “Come on, let’s get some clothes on you.”

O’Connel’s fear threaded voice stalled them. “No! Don’t leave me!”

Fraser and Ray swiveled to face O’Connel, identical expressions of surprise on their faces.

O’Connel swallowed with difficulty and stuttered, “Please, Fraser, stay with me and Katie until the ambulance comes. Just in case.”

The Mountie assured O’Connel he would stay with him.

Tony rolled his eyes and grimaced before turning to his son. “Gino, go get Fraser the afghan from the den.”

Fraser seemed almost as surprised at Tony’s instructions to his son as he had at O’Connel’s plea.

Gino appeared pleased to be of service again. “Sure thing, Pop.”

“And a blanket for Katie as well,” Fraser added. “Thank you kindly, Gino.”

Gino smiled shyly at the Mountie’s request and thanks before darting toward the house.

Fraser engaged Tony’s attention, his tone still earnest. “Thank you, too, Tony, for your consideration.”

Before Tony could get flustered, the Canadian turned to Ray. “Please, return to the house and attend to your injury, Ray.”

Ray protested but the Mountie pushed him toward the back door. His voice dropped softly, carrying only to the people closest to them. “Mon Coeur, you need to don warmer apparel. I do not want you to fall ill from exposure. Please, take care of yourself.”

Ray seemed to be caught by the care expressed through the Mountie’s words and agreed reluctantly. He strode after his young nephew, hugging his shoulders for warmth against the brisk breeze.

Fraser resumed a kneeling position by O’Connel’s side. “She still needs medical care, Mr. O’Connel, but her heart is beating again. Her skin reflects a healthy shade of pink. Roses blooming on her cheeks!”

A smile quirked the edge of Tony’s lips in amusement. Fraser’s attempts at humor sometimes didn’t rise to meet the occasion.

Now that the crisis had passed, Tony became aware of the crowd surging and murmuring around them. Grateful for the neighbors that had taken the children into their care, he was, nonetheless, annoyed at the number of thrill seekers and curiosity-mongers that pressed towards them.

Assaulted by a tittering drift of laughter, he pivoted on his heel to scowl at a couple of teenage girls sniggering behind sheltering hands. The giggles were suspiciously close to the way his wife and sister-in-law laughed when he caught them watching a hunk on a soap opera -- and when they saw Fraser doing something that showed off his physique.

Sure enough, the girls were staring openly at Fraser. From their angle, Tony realized they were getting an eyeful of the Mountie’s practically nude figure. His left arm braced against the ground revealed the flow of well developed muscles over his shoulder and broad planes of his back. The white boxer shorts stretched tightly across the Mountie’s rump, and thanks to the dampness of the ground, were practically transparent in places. Mud and grass did nothing to hide the firmness and strength of the Canadian’s crouched thighs and calves.

Incensed on Fraser’s behalf, he was just about to physically block their line of vision when Gino rushed up to Fraser. He had long thick blankets on one arm, and the Stetson in the other hand.

As Gino helped O’Connel tuck one of the blankets about Katie, Fraser placed the Stetson on his head. Funny how with the broad rim hat in place, the Mountie appeared completely clothed despite the lack of uniform. With a neat twist of his wrist, the Canadian twirled the thick red and black plaid about his shoulders so that the folds dropped to his knees.

Sirens and flashes of light indicated the emergency vehicles had arrived. The press of people craned their necks toward the new arrivals and Fraser, with polite words and persistent gestures, maneuvered them into falling back so that the paramedics from the MICU transport could quickly bring their specialized equipment to where the father and daughter waited. The EMTs followed close behind them with their own paraphernalia.

As one of the two paramedics began taking the child’s vital signs, the other, a no nonsense woman with premature gray streaked through her thick, dark blonde hair, stared skeptically at the afghan draped Canadian. “You the Mountie? I was told there was a Mountie involved with this.”

Fraser responded quickly. “Yes, . . .” a pause while he checked the name badge, “Ms Hornby.” Quickly he outlined all the action Ray and he had taken with the little girl. As he talked, she dropped to one knee to help her partner place an oxygen mask over the pale face.

The paramedics did their job quickly and efficiently, conferring between themselves with crisp but pleasant exchanges. They were both gentle with Katie, calling her by her given name and other terms of endearment as they continued to monitor her heart rhythm, take her blood pressure and check the dilation of her pupils.

An IV was started, the defibrillator set up but abandoned as Hornby seemed satisfied by what her stethoscope and experienced fingers were telling her. Assuring the little girl and her father everything looked good, Hornby stood and fixed Fraser with a firm stare. “You saved her life, uh.....”

“Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP. My emergency medical training at Regina and other RCMP outposts have been called upon in times of crisis on more than one occasion.”

“I would say Katie has good reason to be grateful for that background. She’ll live to fly kites again because of your timely actions and quick thinking. Hey, guys? You ready to transport the patient?”

The two waiting EMTs were right there with the stretcher, and quickly had the little girl airborne and deposited on the cushioned litter. Hornby paused to praise Fraser one more time, complete with an invitation to join her class at the local hospital for a refresher course anytime he wanted, before striding off with her partner for their waiting unit.

Preparing to follow his daughter into the ambulance, O’Connel turned to Fraser. His face awash with embarrassment and guilt, he held out his hand. “Thank you for saving my daughter’s life.”

Characteristically, the Mountie couched his thanks with stoic reserve as he shook the proffered hand. “I was glad to be of service. In the future, you may want to reiterate and emphasize the reasons behind all safety rules, not just those that apply to the flying of kites.”

The man flushed bright red to his hairline. “I also want to say I’m sorry for what I said to you and -- and -- Ray earlier.”

The Mountie’s face assumed the blank expression Tony had often seen him use when the Canadian didn’t want to acknowledge an awkward situation. He answered blandly, “I’m sure I don’t know the words to which you are referring. In any case, the most important concern is the safety and well being of your child.”

One of the EMTs called, “Mr. O’Connel? We need to be on our way.”

O’Connel backed up a step toward the waiting vehicle. “But still . . .”

Fraser assured him. “We’ll take care of your other children until you or your wife return.”

O’Connel accepted the closure with gratitude before smiling wanly at Tony and disappearing into the mouth of the ambulance.

Tony growled under his breath. “As if that makes what you said okay. It shouldn’t take saving your kid’s life to accept those two.”

A startled movement from his side caused him to realize his brother-in-law had joined him. Ray, now fully clothed in boots, heavy coat and knit cap, stared at him, long jaw swaying low.

“Where did the *real Tony* go? I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Coming from the mouth of the man who swore we were the ultimate offense to God and man? That we weren’t to set foot in the same room with him? That we were never ever to be alone with his kids?”

With each accurate recollection, Tony shifted and squirmed uncomfortably. Aggressively he countered, “A person can change his mind, can’t he?”

Tony swallowed hard under the critical green-gray eyes and continued. “After all, you’re family. And since Fraser is --uh -- married to you, he’d be family too. You gotta protect family. It just kinda took me longer than what it should’ve.” He paused and said sincerely, “I’m proud to be part of a family that includes you and Fraser.”

The dawning grin on Ray’s face shone widely. “I guess one of my sisters didn’t marry such a loser after all.”

They embraced each other swiftly. Tony knew his face was ruddy with embarrassment, but he had never felt in better graces with his brother-in-law . Maybe he had been able to amend part of his past unforgivable behavior to Ray and Fraser. It had been worse in its own way than anything O’Connel had done.

Fraser joined them. Tony could see his brows arched in curiosity at their affability.

Still grinning, Ray slipped an arm around Fraser’s shoulders. “You know, Benny, I have a brother-in-law who is a class A act.”

A slight frown indicated the Mountie’s continued confusion.

Tony said gruffly, “Thank you for saving Pat’s kid, even if it does mean one more rug rat in the world. Now, I got a basketball game to get back to. No telling how many more points Northwestern has scored -- and I’m missing them all. You coming, Ray?”

Ray stole a glance at the man in the Stetson. “Nah, don’t think so. You got kids to keep an eye on and Benny and I still need to discuss what it means to cry wolf.”

The Mountie’s eyebrows quirked even higher, amusement curving the edges of his lips and softening his eyes. His protest was obviously feigned. “Wolf, Ray? I never cry wolf, Ray. Or rather, when I cry for my wolf, I don’t actually cry wolf.”

The lovers turned to stroll towards the house. Tony followed them, intent on returning to the game. Because of the direction of the wind, Tony could still hear their words clearly despite the paces that separated them.

Ray’s smile could be heard in his voice. “Sometimes crying wolf is like being a tease. Like makin’ me believe somethin’ was gonna happen when we were upstairs. And that somethin’ didn’t happen. I’d say you were cryin’ wolf, Benny.”

“If I say wolf, Ray, then I mean wolf.” The Mountie paused before slowly and huskily intoning, “Wolf, Ray.”

Tony blushed at the sultriness in the Canadian’s tone and belatedly thought about looking for the kids. He lagged behind, searching through the thinning crowd for Theresa. He found her huddled contentedly against a neighbor’s ample waist; Gino and the other O’Connel kids were close by.

Before he crossed to them, he paused to look back at Fraser and Ray. Ray obviously had a tight grip about the Mountie’s wool covered shoulders and their two heads were as close as the Stetson would allow. Their pace quickened even as he watched.

Yes, Tony thought, the family was all the stronger to have them in their midst.

The End

March Madness
August 1999

Many thanks to my betas, Audra and Jan, Lady Warrior.

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