Disclaimer: Due South and its characters do not belong to me, sob, sob.
Rating: PG for very slight m/m interaction.

Hell Hoth no fury...
by Sylvie Grenon

*********************

Ray Kowalski was lost.	He was lost, and he was cold, and it looked like
he was going to die.  He had been hunting not far from the cabin he and
Fraser shared when a sudden snowstorm had come up, and, like a true
displaced
city-boy, he'd immediately lost his bearings.  Now, hours later, he felt
his extremities gradually growing more and more numb, and his hope of
rescue growing more and more dim.

'Just over this last snowbank,' he told himself with the last ounce of
hope he possessed.  He climbed the snowbank, expecting to find a lit
cabin and a warm supper, only to find... another snowbank.  With a cry
of despair and exhaustion, he felt his knees give way, and fell, face
first, into the snow.  He was out cold before he hit the ground.

*********************

"Yank!" The voice echoed through Ray's brain, jarring him into
consciousness.
He lifted his head as high as he could and stared at the shimmering
apparition
in front of him. It appeared to be a man, wearing a Mountie uniform and
snowshoes.  For a moment, he thought it was Fraser, but this man was
older, and, as far as Ray knew, Fraser wasn't see-through.  The voice
repeated itself. "Yank." It seemed to be talking to him.

"Huh?" was all he could manage to say through his numbed lips.

"You must stay awake, Yank.  He'll never forgive himself if anything
happened to you." 

'Geez', Ray thought, 'I probably got this hypothermia thing again.  If
I gotta hallucinate, why can't it be Pamela Anderson? No, I gotta dream
about whacko Mounties.' 

"Besides," the ghost went on, "you work here isn't finished yet.  You
still have to find the hand of Franklin."

"Franklin?"  Oh great. Here he was, freezing to death, and this old dude
was going on about that damn quest.

"You'll never find it on your own; what you need is some good help."

'Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away, and I can die in peace.' Ray tried
to burrow back into the snow, but the voice didn't waver.

"You must go to Fort Dakoba."

Ray lifted his head again, curious. "Fort Dakoba?" he croaked.

"There you will learn from Yodel, the retired sergeant who instructed
me." 

"Yodel?"  What the hell kind of name was that?

The man looked peeved. "Well, that's a nickname, of course. His real
name's O'Connell. We just called him that because he liked to yodel on
the trail." He shook his head fondly. "The avalanches that man caused..."

'That's it' thought Ray, 'I've snapped.'

The apparition looked briefly over his shoulder. "Well, Yank, looks like
you'll be in good hand soon. Remember what I told you."

"Dakoba... Yodel..." Ray's head was beginning to swim. The shimmery image
in front of him was suddenly replaced by a much more substantial one,
that of Ben Fraser approaching with the dogsled.  Ray reached out a hand
to him, croaking out "Ben.... Ben!" before once again losing
consciousness.

****************

Fraser leaped frantically from the sled, running toward the unmoving
lump that was his partner. He turned the man over, searching his face
for any sign of life, then removing his gloves to try to find a pulse.

"Don't do this, Ray!" he pleaded with the pale form. "Come on, give me
a sign here."  Then Ray moved slightly, moaning, and Fraser's heart leapt
in relief and joy.  "Oh, thank God!" 

He gently picked up his frozen partner and brought him to the sled,
tucking
him in firmly with the extra furs and blankets he had packed.  A whine
from Diefenbaker caught his attention. 

"Yes, Dief, I think he's going to be fine.  He just needs to warm up."

A longer whimper this time, and Fraser glanced sharply at his packmate
in shock. "No, I'm not going to cut you open and warm him with your
entrails.
Good God, Dief, where on earth do you get these ideas?"  

The wolf grumbled, properly chastised and somewhat relieved, and, at
Fraser's order, led the other dogs back towards the cabin.

*********************

Countless moments later Ray lay back in the large double bed, warmed,
fed, and utterly content.  That contentment only grew as the arms holding
him tightened slightly around him, and a soft breath caressed his ear.
"How are you feeling, Ray?"

"Hmmm... great," he answered sleepily.	

"I'm glad, Ray.  I admit I was quite worried about you today."

"Yeah, well so was I. Tell you the truth, I probably wouldnt've made
it if it wasn't' for that old guy."

"Old guy?"

"Yeah.	Some crazy old Mountie.  He said something about going to Fort
Dakoba, wherever the hell that is."

His lover sounded pensive.  "It's about two hundred kilometres northeast
of here.  My father was stationed there once."

Ray turned to look at him.  "Ben, do you think that might've been..."

"I think so, yes."

The two stared at each other for a few moments.

"Cool!"

"Indeed."

Ray lay his head back down on Fraser's shoulder, snuggling further into
the warm embrace, sighing contentedly.

"G'night, Ben."

He felt the kiss gently placed on the top of his head, and, smiling
happily,
dropped off into a dreamless sleep.

The end. (My apologies to Mr. Lucas.) :-)
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