Comments welcome and appreciated. Send to L8TLEA@aol.com

Ray Kowalski felt good. The sun warmed his face. A nice breeze fluttered around his jean jacket and tousled his golden spiked hair. He was looking forward to his first day off in nearly three weeks. Sitting outside in the black GTO, he stared up at the doors of the Canadian Consulate expectantly. His best friend lurked in there somewhere but he was supposed to be out here. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and sighed. If Fraser didn't come out soon, they would be late for the movie. Actually, skipping the film would be okay too. With weather this nice, it seemed a shame to spend two hours inside.

Since he met Constable Benton Fraser, Ray spent a lot of time waiting. It's not that the Mountie wasn't punctual, usually he was painfully on time. But work crept up often enough to make his lateness seem normal. Most cops had that problem. But Fraser rarely performed as an actual police officer at the Consulate. Mostly he was a handyman, a tour guide, a receptionist or a human statue when he had sentry duty. Somehow he always seemed to be late anyway.

Ray could go in of course, but he'd seen Fraser's other best friend arrive a few minutes earlier. Detective Ray Vecchio parked his green Riviera in front of the GTO, waved at him and entered the Consulate. Kowalski never liked Vecchio that much. He could respect his ability as a cop and appreciate his loyalty and friendship to Fraser but Vecchio's personality grated on him. He decided to avoid the contact and just wait.

Vecchio was Fraser's first friend in Chicago. The two of them were inseparable. When Vecchio went undercover with an organized crime family a couple of years earlier, the Feds came up with an elaborate plan to protect his identity. They decided someone had to pretend to be Vecchio so his sudden disappearance would go unnoticed. That's how Kowalski met Fraser. He volunteered to go undercover as Vecchio for as long as necessary. Pretending to be Vecchio included pretending to be Fraser's best friend.

Another few minutes passed. Ray climbed out of his car and stretched. Slender and muscular, he reached his arms above his head and sighed. He paced a little bit. Sitting still was just too much for him. Nervous energy kept him on the move since he learned to crawl. His mother said he was the "most squirmy baby" ever.

When Vecchio returned from his assignment more than a year ago, he wanted his life back. He wanted his desk, his family and his job. But as understandable and expected as that was, Kowalski was not ready to vacate the position. The two of them argued constantly, occasionally reached a plateau, then argued some more.

Ray heard the Consulate door open and looked up hoping to see Fraser but saw Vecchio instead. Vecchio was tall, slender with just a touch of black hair left on his balding skull. His nose dominated his face unless he was angry. Then his green eyes became the most prominent feature. He was dressed well in an expensive gray suit and red tie. Kowalski hoped he'd just wave and move on, but even on a fine day like this one, his luck couldn't hold. Vecchio walked over with a grin.

Kowalski stopped pacing. He stood up straight trying to make the most of his height. He did it without thought. He just automatically felt in competition with this man.

"Morning." Vecchio said, still grinning.

"Mornin'. You done with Fraser now, we gotta get goin'." Ray hadn't intended to sound adversarial but that was automatic too. If Vecchio noticed, he didn't show it.

"Yeah, he'll be out pretty quick. The new Inspector, Conrad, whatsisname is going over the duty roster with him. Apparently, he thought Fraser was working today."

"Shit. He's gonna end up stuck there all day."

"No, I think he's got him convinced and Turnbull is in there." Kowalski sighed. Constable Turnbull was rarely a positive addition to any problem.

"He asked me to let ya know."

"Yeah, thanks. You workin' today?"

"All weekend. I gotta drive to Peoria and give a deposition on a trial starting Monday."

"Testifyin'?"

"Hope not or I'll be there all week too." The two men stood awkwardly for another moment or two before Vecchio broke off. He climbed into the fourth incarnation of his classic vehicle and drove away.

Kowalski turned around to lean over the roof of his car. He noticed a young woman staring at him from across the street. She was closer to kid than adult. She had dark hair and wore blue jeans and a black blouse. Without his glasses on, Ray couldn't see any details but the girl kept looking at him, then back towards the street where Vecchio had driven. Finally, she noticed Ray watching her. She walked away.

Several more minutes passed before Fraser finally appeared. He was dressed in blue jeans and a brown button down shirt all tucked in neatly. He placed his Stetson on his head covering most of his black hair. Fraser was solid with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Kowalski always felt skinny when he saw his partner. Beside Fraser, a gray half-wolf padded along happily. Ray frowned at the wolf.

"What's Dief doin' with ya? They won't let 'im in, ya know?"

"Well, Ray, I was thinking..."

"You don' wanna go t' the movie." A statement, not a question.

"Well, it's not that." He began carefully. Ray raised his eyebrows. "Well not exactly, but I have made us quite late and as it is a very nice day..."

"You wanna take Dief somewhere?"

"To the park." Fraser finished firmly.

"Yeah, all right, I'm good with that. It's a nice day."

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

Fraser opened the passenger side door and lifted the seat forward so the wolf could jump in. He took his hat off and slid in.

The two men and the wolf spent the afternoon at the park. Ray liked playing. He would allow Diefenbaker to chase him then he would chase him back. Fraser watched them play and appreciated the exercise the wolf was getting.

Ray finally collapsed tiredly on the bench beside him. His jean jacket had been discarded and the faded blue t-shirt clung to his chest from perspiration. Diefenbaker frolicked on his own for a few more minutes before settling beneath a nearby tree.

"Thank you for playing with Dief. He hasn't been getting enough exercise lately since Willy moved away." Fraser referred to the young boy who used to walk and care for the wolf while he was working.

"Yeah, he can't jump out any Consulate windows either and terrorize the neighborhood when yer not lookin'."

"True enough." Fraser conceded to the teasing.

"I don' notice you chasin' 'im around."

"Well... no but I do take him out on tactical training when there's time."

"Yeah I been noticin' that lately."

"Noticing what?" Fraser asked not understanding.

"You been busy a lot lately."

"As have you."

"Yeah, my lieutenant was gettin' some pressure t'solve that girl's murder. And uh course, he thought I should take some uh that pressure off 'im."

"Are you still having trouble with your lieutenant?" Fraser knew Ray's newest posting was a difficult situation.

"Nah, not really. We don't get along, but it don' matter. I just do what he tells me an' try not t'give 'im any reason not t'trust me."

After Vecchio returned from his undercover assignment, Kowalski and Fraser left town for awhile to have an adventure. The adventure took shape as a search through arctic Canada for the Hand of Franklin. They searched for seven months. By that time both men had made peace with the changes inflicted on their lives and decided to return.

While they were gone, Ray Vecchio retired to Florida on disability due to a gunshot wound he took protecting Fraser. He took Kowalski's ex-wife with him. Three months after their arrival in Florida, they both realized they had made a terrible mistake. They divorced amicably and Vecchio returned to Chicago, was declared fit for duty and re-assigned to his old position. Stella Kowalski Vecchio remained in Florida taking up her profession as a District Attorney. Kowalski was assigned to a new station.

Kowalski figured Vecchio engineered the transfer. Vecchio denied it but Ray had his doubts.

Anyway, the new posting for Kowalski put him under the direction of Lieutenant Barry Connors. Connors disliked Ray immediately. Ray didn't know why. But the lieutenant gave him the worst assignments. One day assigning him to the most graphic of murders and the next day assigning him to the most mundane surveillance. He criticized the detective for everything from his clothing to the spelling errors on reports.

When a young woman was murdered and mutilated in her apartment, Ray was the detective Connors sent in. Ray badly wanted to find the pervert five minutes after getting the details of the murder. Whoever killed her was seriously demented. The woman was the niece of a Congressman so the case became news before Connors realized he assigned it to Kowalski. He would have yanked it from him, not trusting Ray to solve it, but the detective had made some progress and he had already met with the family. They seemed to trust him. So Connors left him with the assignment but harassed him constantly about his lack of progress.

In the end, after three weeks with no time off and rare breaks even for sleep, Ray solved the case. He discovered a connection to the brother of the woman's boyfriend within the first day of his investigation. He followed every lead, gathering evidence until the case was solid before arresting the man. Connors refused to acknowledge his excellent work but Ray didn't mind. He was pleased with the arrest and pleased with himself.

"Have you considered requesting another transfer?" Fraser asked.

"I thought about it, but ya know, movin' around all the time ain't exactly good fer yer career. Besides, I figure he'll back off after this last one. What with the mayor callin' t'thank me an' everything."

"The mayor phoned you?" Fraser asked, turning to face him with a grin.

"Yeah." He looked down, slightly embarrassed for mentioning it. "It's no big deal."

"Well congratulations, Ray. You did a fine job."

After another hour of walking around the lake, the two men decided to find sustenance. Dief agreed with their decision. They left Ray's car at the park and walked about half a mile to a small deli. The wolf waited outside whining a complaint as he lay down. Ray promised to bring him a treat.

As they walked through the heavy glass doors, a reflection caught Ray's attention. He glanced behind him to find the same young woman who had been near the Consulate standing across the street. She was closer this time but Ray, without glasses, could only determine she was probably in her early twenties and Italian. The girl stared at him blatantly.

"Hang on a second, Frase, I'll be right back." The Mountie turned around, following his friend's path with his eyes. He saw the young woman clearly.

Shorter than Ray and slender, she watched him approach her passively. She had dark eyes and dark hair. Her complexion was olive toned. Her nose was long and narrow over fuller lips. Fraser stood by intending to follow Ray, if necessary. Diefenbaker stood up, watching him also.

Ray walked up to the woman. She pulled her hands from her pockets and looked at the detective.

"You followin' me?" Ray asked.

"I don't know what you mean." She answered evenly.

"You were outside the Consulate, now you're here. You know me? We got business?"

"We have a coincidence." She answered, her voice maintaining a low, even tone. "You're flattering yourself."

"Then why were you starin' at me like that?"

"I was surprised to see you again. I remembered you from this morning."

"You sure that's it?"

"What else would there be?"

The calm of this woman struck Ray as odd. He expected anger or fear or confusion. But she maintained eye contact without becoming hostile. She responded as if it was normal to be confronted this way. Ray wanted to continue but she gave no course for the conversation to take.

"Yeah, all right. Sorry. Can't be too careful." Ray mumbled as he walked away. He crossed back to Fraser.

The Mountie looked at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for an explanation while he watched the girl walk away.

"It's nothin'. Just lettin' my imagination get the best uh me. Let's go eat."

A few minutes after ordering, Ray seemed like his normal self again. The young woman was forgotten. They ate and chatted about nothing in particular. The walk back to the car was more of the same. Dief followed happily after being treated with lean roast beef and a sugar cookie. Fraser just shook his head when the wolf whined his appreciation and nudged Ray's hand.

"You're a disgrace." He muttered to the wolf before they headed back towards the park.

Ray drove Fraser back to the Consulate. The Mountie had to work on Saturday but they made tentative arrangements to go to dinner on Saturday night.

Kowalski drove to his apartment frowning about the time. Still too early to be home, he thought. He shrugged it off. Still feeling sweaty from his romp with the wolf, he figured he'd go home, take a shower and if he still felt antsy he could go out and grab a beer somewhere. Otherwise, he'd find a movie or a game to watch on television. Maybe he'd call his folks, just to check in.

He pulled up in front of the building and bounded upstairs. In his pocket, he carried a new rock for his pet turtle. This one was oblong and shiny with amber specks. He reached the door thinking home sounded like a good place. Maybe a shower and a movie were the best choice.

He unlocked the door, entered then locked it behind him. He headed towards the turtle's bowl stopping a foot from it when a shadow from his bedroom caught his attention.

He figured it must be the curtain blowing from his overhead fan but the cop in him was cautious. He approached his bedroom slowly. He wasn't armed and wasn't thinking he should be. A person did not start pulling out firearms because of blowing curtains. He stepped across the threshold.

When the first hand took his right wrist he was almost too surprised to react. Then his instincts took over. He turned into the threat while he brought his left hand around to throw a punch. A second hand took that arm, twisting it back behind him and shoving him to his knees. Ray kept struggling, trying to head butt the body in front of him. His assailant managed to stay away and turned his other arm around. He found himself handcuffed pretty quickly. Still fighting, he managed to jerk away and roll next to the bed. A solid kick to the stomach stopped him and flipped on to his back. The handcuffs pressed uncomfortably into his spine. He suddenly felt like his turtle when some neighbor kid had flipped him on to his back.

He now had a clear look at his attackers. They meant nothing to him. Both were over six feet. One had light brown hair and pale skin. The other had dark curly hair and olive skin. The light one produced a knit ski mask from his pocket. He put it over Ray's face with the eyeholes facing backward. Gasping from the kick in the stomach, breathing took on a new challenge under the hat. Ray could still see through the fibers but not enough. The knit was suffocating against his nose and mouth. Lifted roughly off the floor, Ray started fighting again. This time a fist to the soft flesh just below his sternum and another to his kidney, collapsed his legs beneath him. They hauled him back up to sit on the bed.

"Wha d'ya want?" Kowalski asked through ragged breaths.

"Shut up." One of the men ordered.

"Just tell me whatcha want. We can work it out."

This time a slap to the face sent his teeth shaking in his head. Surprised by the slap instead of a real punch, he quieted for a moment. When they started to fool with his feet, he started kicking wildly earning himself the punch he missed the last time. Things seemed to get fuzzy around the edges then and he couldn't quite work up the will to fight back. The two men removed his boots and socks and turned him on the bed. He was still on his back when they spread his legs and tied them to the top of the bedposts.

Scared didn't quite cover Kowalski just then. He was shaking and fighting himself not to shake. His breath sounded harsh even to his own ears. His heart was threatening to mutiny from his chest and his stomach had somehow moved to his throat.

Silence followed. Ray thought he might be alone but twisting this way and that, he could see at least one of the men was still nearby. He thought it was the light one.

The cap itched roughly against his skin. He tried to rub his face against the bed to scratch. One of the men, as he came closer, Ray confirmed it was the lighter one, pulled his t-shirt up so his stomach was exposed. He pressed something round and cold into his belly. It didn't take a genius to know that the object pressed into his flesh would probably create a hole the size of Texas.

"Leave it on." The man said.

"I'm just..." The man pressed harder.

"Just leave it on."

Funny, how his stomach just deserted his throat and moved to lower ground.

He heard another set of footsteps in the kitchen. He didn't know if someone new had entered the apartment or if one of the two left the room.

A moment later he had the answer.

"Do you recognize my voice, Detective?"

"The girl who was followin' me?" Ray answered in a soft, scratched voice. Her clear measured tone was unmistakable.

"That's right. My name is Nicole. My friends are Lonnie and Mario. Do you know why we're here?"

"No." Ray answered, turning his head from side to side trying to improve his sight through the cap. "What're you some fuckin' psychos, get off stalkin' cops?"

"No. I have a question to ask you. Just one. If you tell me, we'll leave. I'll even call someone and tell them to come find you. Maybe that friend of yours. Does he work at the Canadian Consulate or is he just staying there?"

"Is that the question?" Ray asked, trying bravado to cover his terror.

"No, so I withdraw it. I said only one question and you'll find that I never lie."

"That's good.. It'll work good fer ya in prison. I guess ya know assault an' kidnapping a police officer is a felony." A short silence followed. Ray felt the tension in the room grow heavier.

"Do you enjoy being tied up like this?" Nicole asked.

"Is that the question?"

"No it's not. But, since you are counting, let me just tell you my train of thought. You see if you continue to draw this conversation out, you will continue to stay as you are. If you are quiet and speak only when I ask the question, then we could be finished here in five minutes. I'll leave it up to you."

Ray liked the five-minute option though he suspected the question would lead to a longer stay. If she wanted to know tomorrow's forecast, they wouldn't have attacked him and tied him up. And taken his boots. He pushed that thought away. He wouldn't know until the question was asked.

"Go ahead." Ray said.

"Thank you. Where's Mondo?" Ray closed his eyes. Oh, great, they have him mixed up with someone else. How could he convince them?

"Is this like Where's Waldo? Cause if it is, I'll need t'see the pictures."

"Where's Mondo, Detective?"

"I don't know who you mean." Ray said, seriously.

He didn't see the woman nod to her henchmen. He did notice when the two came closer though. He held his breath. Lonnie rolled the ski cap up, exposing his mouth and nose and effectively sealing his vision. Mario took his nose between two fingers. Kowalski opened his mouth automatically for air and found a rag stuffed down his throat. The rag tickled the back of his tongue. He choked and struggled while another cloth was tied around his mouth.

Nearly hyperventilating, Ray pulled air through his nose in heavy breaths, choking against the gag. A warm hand descended on his forehead and held him still. The soft voice of his captor whispered soothing words to him. He started to settle down. Just calm down, Kowalski.

"All right now, Detective. The gag is uncomfortable but you're not going to suffocate. Just relax. Breathe through your nose. I really need the answer to my question. So, all we're going to do is try to convince you to tell me. When you're ready to answer the question, just shake your head up and down. Are you ready now?"

Ray remained still. He didn't know how to answer. Who or what is Mondo? He couldn't think of a lie because he had no idea what this girl was talking about.

"You have a very impressive stereo. I hope you don't mind that we moved it in here." They moved my stereo? How the hell did I miss that? He didn't have time to consider that for long because a moment later he found his ears covered by his headphones. The receivers pressed tight against his head. He used them sometimes when he wanted to listen late at night. His landlady might not mind the sound of his dancing feet but she probably would not appreciate his choice in late night, insomnia music. These were not the set that came with the stereo. He purchased them specifically for their clear tone. They were an expensive present he gave himself a few months after his wife left him.

"Did you know that a stereo of this quality can burst the ear drums in a split second?"

They can't be serious. The burst of noise was so loud and sudden he yelled out as his body convulsed off the bed. There was no recognizing the music. He fell back, shocked while his body tingled with the aftereffect. His brain pulsed inside his skull. The headphones were loosened.

"All right then, where is Mondo? I saw you speaking with him today. I know you know where he is. It is very important that I find him."

Ray spent a year protecting Vecchio's cover. He knew when he took the assignment that if any of the mob families ever suspected the truth he would find himself in a situation just like this. Now a year after ending that assignment it had happened.

He couldn't give Vecchio away. If his old cohorts discovered that Ray Vecchio had infiltrated their ranks, they would kill him. They would probably kill his whole family.

"Are you ready to tell me where he is?"

Ray held his breath. I can't.

The sound came fast, Ray bucked up with a scream that was cut off by the gag. He sucked in automatically, dragging the rag further into his throat, choking him. He thought he would suffocate. And then the pain came again, searing through his head, lighting all the nerves from his brain to his shoulders. He convulsed with every jolt. His eyes were watering into the cap. His hands were clenched into tight fists behind his back.

It stopped as suddenly as it started. He flopped back on the bed, gasping for air, shaking. His head felt sheared down the center. His ears were ringing. His mind refused to obey anything he tried to send it. He fought back the bile rising in his throat. If he vomited with the rag in his mouth, he'd suffocate.

Nicole knelt beside him. She rubbed his stomach in a circular motion whispering to him again. Whispering or am I deaf? What the hell is she doing? Comforting me?

"It's all right. You've done very well. You've kept your secret. Now, just nod your head and I'll take the rag from your mouth. You'll be able to breathe easier and I'll give you water and you can tell me where Armando Langostini is. Just nod your head." They gave him a few moments to pull his thoughts together, a nearly impossible task with the battering ram pounding away at this skull. "Just nod your head, Detective."

Tempting. Ray saw Vecchio in his mind, surrounded by his family. Ray liked Vecchio's family. I can't tell them.

The stereo crashed through his head again. Longer this time. Pearl Jam? Then a scratch, another burst of noise and a squeal that cut through him like a sword.

Silence. Ray lay gasping and jerking helplessly. He had dragged his body down to the end of the bed, his knees bent nearly to his hips. He was going to be sick. He twisted himself to his stomach, hanging over the bed, knowing he would choke no matter what he did.

Just as Ray was losing the battle he waged against himself, he felt the ski cap move off his eyes and then the cloth pressing into his face was released. The rag in his mouth was dragged out, leaving a burning, hollow feeling behind. That was followed by a violent surge from his belly. Mario held him over a wastebasket while he deposited the contents of his stomach.

When he finished, the basket was removed and he was left gasping over the edge of the bed. The vile taste in his mouth threatened to start the process again. He was turned back over gently. Nicole held him in her lap. Ray didn't want to be comforted like this but he didn't know what to do as the girl stroked his forehead. He couldn't think, couldn't get passed the pain echoing through his brain.

His body throbbed loudly. He couldn't seem to drag a coherent thought through his head. His ears ached like something inside was bulging and retracting.

"It's time to tell me, Detective. We don't have to put that rag back in your mouth. You don't have to risk choking to death on your own vomit. Or being stone deaf for the rest of your life. Just answer my one simple question and it stops."

"I don't know." Ray managed to say, barely able to hear his own voice and wondering why Nicole sounded so clear.

His captor moved away again. The cap was not replaced over his eyes. The two henchmen moved in. Lifting Ray up so he was sitting, they released his wrists from the metal cuffs. Giving up or killing me? Panic and anger spurred him into fighting back. He swung at Lonnie landing a nice blow to his cheek before Mario caught his arms. With his legs still restrained he had little maneuvering room but he bucked and struggled with all he had as they stretched him out on the bed and secured his arms to the headboard using two sets of handcuffs.

When they approached to gag him again, Ray turned his head and clenched his teeth. Lonnie took his hair in one fist and yanked his head back. Mario pinched his nose again. He held out as long as possible before his body betrayed him. The rag was stuffed back into his throat and re-tied while Ray sputtered and choked and yanked viciously at his restraints.

He was shaking badly now. Fear and pain were pushing everything else away. Lonnie reached over him and pushed his t-shirt up so it was bunched under his arms. Then he reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. He pulled the material apart. Ray closed his eyes.

He heard the window opening and looked towards the dark sky to see a light rain pouring over the city. The rain brought a cool breeze with it. Already soaked with sweat, Ray shivered. He remembered the weather report. Clouds were suppose to move in and rain would last through the weekend. The temperatures were predicted to drop into the low 30's during the night.

"We'll check back on you in awhile, Detective." Nicole said. Lonnie replaced the headphones using the ski cap to hold it in place. He jammed the on button and smiled in satisfaction when Ray jerked upward with the assault. They left and closed the door behind them.

An hour later, Ray was shaking so hard he could barely take a breath. The cold had seeped into every part of his body. He couldn't feel his fingers anymore. But, his head and the drum band practicing inside, he could definitely feel that. He kept his eyes closed as much as possible, hoping his body might give out. He knew the cold was getting to him. He knew he was in shock. He should pass out. But the freezing wind massaged his bare chest and arms like vicious bony fingers. The music blared endlessly through his body like a physical assault. He cried out angrily and uselessly.

Lonnie returned. There was no question this time. No moment of comfort or break from the cold. Ray didn't see him grinning when he doused him with a pan of water. Ray yelled out in disbelief, rattling the handcuffs. The man turned and left.

The sun felt good against his face. He looked around the small rowboat and smiled at his father. The older man smiled back as he moved the oars lazily. Dipping them shallowly along the surface of the lake and pulling back so the boat skimmed over the water. Fraser's wolf sat behind him. Diefenbaker was staring into the distance. He called to him. Dief turned to nuzzle him. He thought with surprise that the deaf wolf had heard his voice.

How could the wolf hear him? Forgetting that Dief was deaf, how could he hear over the noise thumping around them?

And where was Fraser? Why would he leave his wolf with Ray's father?

The lake was calm. The cool water splashed gently against his hand. All around them were short patches of sand that gave way to giant oak, maple and elm trees. Wooden docks stretched out from the shore.

He leaned back to get the full warmth of the sun across his body. He wanted to relax and let go of his anxiety. It was perfect except for the noise. He couldn't hear Dief growl but he saw the teeth laid back as the wolf put a cold nose into his side. He jumped. His father laughed and Ray was angry with him. Damien Kowalski dropped the oars and pointed towards the shore. He looked up to see Ray Vecchio running along the edge of the lake waving his arms and shouting. His dad continued to laugh, which was strange, because the man rarely laughed. And Ray was getting angrier at him. There was no sound but he was clearly dissolved in some sort of hysterics.

Ray watched Vecchio run, then followed his path along the shoreline. The trees and sand disappeared to show an open expanse of gray sand. The man was running towards an open manhole. He wondered briefly what a manhole was doing in the middle of this beautiful lake. He started to panic. Vecchio was going to run straight into that hole. He screamed at Damien but his father couldn't or wouldn't hear him. And he was still laughing.

Ray started shaking. He was yelling at Vecchio but the words were lost in the rush of water and wind. He looked over Damien's shoulder. At the end of the lake, standing like a gray wall, a glacier blocked their path. His father rowed harder. He screamed at him to turn back.

He looked back towards the shore in time to see Vecchio disappear. The manhole had changed to just a round black hole like the kind Wile E. Coyote bought from the Acme Company. Vecchio took the noise with him. In the welcome silence, he turned back towards the glacier, confused for a moment by his clear view. Then he realized his father and Diefenbaker were gone. He scrambled towards the center seat to retrieve the oars only to look behind him and see that Damien had them in the water with him. His father waved with a dark smile and disappeared beneath the surface.

Despair shook him to his core. He curled up on the bottom of the boat, ignoring the water, now chilled, as he wrapped his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes, waiting for the impact and praying for silence.

"Detective, can you hear me?"

Ray jerked awake. Pain replaced the panic of his dream and he moaned softly. Still tied to the bed and shaking with cold, the only thing missing was the sound of Pearl Jam raping his eardrums. Nicole shook him, rattling his bleeding wrists. He moaned into waking even as the pain threatened to push him back to darkness.

"All right, you've had time to think. And I'm tired of waiting. I never intended to spend the night here. This was supposed to be simple. Just tell me where Mondo is. I'll give you a blanket. A soft, warm blanket and you can sleep."

Ray looked at the clock. He could hear the words spoken to him but they sounded distant as if surrounded by a buffer. And there was a high pitched whining behind the sound. It was 2:15 in the morning. He had been sleeping for about ten minutes.

"Do you understand that this can go on for days? You're not going to die. You can pass out but when you wake up, we'll still be here. Just because the headphones broke doesn't mean there aren't other things we can do. I'm committed to finding my friend just as you are obviously committed to keeping him from me. Just nod your head. No one will blame you."

"I am going to ask Lonnie to start breaking the fingers on your left hand. Do you understand that?"

Ray stiffened. He's gonna do what? His eyes grew wide even as he pressed himself into the mattress. He drew his hands into fists.

"I won't ask between each finger. I won't stay and watch. You tell me now or he will break every finger."

He was so scared, so confused. The words in his head echoed incoherently: completely independent of any known form. All that stayed was the pounding rhythm of the CD. His eardrums felt shredded. His head was threatening to pop open at the lid. He couldn't answer. He watched the woman shake her head at him with apparent sadness and then she disappeared from his view.

Twenty minutes later, after a lot of screaming and struggling and disbelief, Ray Kowalski passed out. His ruined left hand hung uselessly from the bedpost. Mario climbed off this chest. Lonnie flexed his hands. They were stiff from working so hard. He reached for the pan beside the bed. The second dousing of water barely roused their victim. But his body started shaking violently.

The next time Ray opened his eyes, he could hardly focus through the film covering them. It was 4:00 in the morning. They had left him alone for more than an hour. He could see his breath in the air. The curtains at the window billowed inward from the cold breeze created by the steadily pouring rain.

He tried again to focus on anything besides the pain and cold. The rhythm of the music had subsided somewhat though his head was still pounding viciously. And his ears were throbbing. He remembered Fraser telling him that sometimes in the Territories it would be too cold to sleep. Sometimes he would spend days alone in the frozen darkness and he would do math in his head to keep his mind busy. He said he would start small with two plus two is four and then four plus four is eight and then eight plus eight is sixteen. He said concentrating on the numbers kept his mind off the cold. Ray decided to try his technique.

By 4:45 the activity had only succeeded in increasing the pain and making him nauseous. He couldn't maintain a fix on the math. He'd start out and then lose track of what numbers he was adding. The throbbing through his hand and arm rivaled the terrible pain in his head. The cold had moved into the injured joints and bones and the motion caused by his shivering only heightened the agony. No amount of math was going to cover that torment.

When his captors returned again, Nicole carried a blanket. Ray recognized it as a spare he stored in the living room closet. Lonnie, who turned out to be the light one, and who snapped his fingers like twigs while his partner sat on his chest, closed the bedroom window. Nicole handed the blanket over to Mario who spread it over Ray's shivering body. Lonnie started searching Ray's dresser, just rummaging around inside the drawers until he produced a red knit mitten. The mitten was a gift from Vecchio's niece. She said she started it for Uncle Ray but since he was gone, she gave it to the "new Ray". He had been absurdly pleased with the gift though he had no use for red mittens.

Lonnie shoved the mitten roughly over his broken fingers and Ray cried out in surprise. The nausea returned fully. He couldn't twist on to his stomach now and as before he had no way of communicating his panic except to thrash against the bed. Nicole leaned over him placing a firm hand against his forehead to once again hold him still. She gently rubbed Ray's stomach while the other two released his arms and legs. The nausea was lessening and Ray thought he was passed the crisis.

His limbs free now, Ray curled protectively into a ball, cradling his injured hand and trying to drag some warmth back into his body. The gag was still in place and he clawed at it with one hand. Nicole leaned down close to his ear.

"You should tell me now. We can start all over. I didn't cripple your right hand because you need it if you're going to stay a police officer. I can change that now if I want to. We can start this horror from the beginning. Do you understand how helpless you are? I can do anything to you. But that doesn't have to happen if you'll just answer the question."

Ray curled up tighter. He didn't think he could let them break the rest of his fingers. He knew he'd tell them anything if they tried. A long moment passed. Finally, Nicole stood up and stepped away from the bed. Oh, God, they're gonna do it. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"All right, Detective you must have a good reason for protecting him. I need you to tell him that I won't stop looking. Just tell him it was Nicki and he'll want to see me."

Ray listened while their footsteps retreated from the apartment. He heard the front door open and close. He dragged the cloth around his face down past his chin and ripped the suffocating gag from his mouth. Sucking in air and coughing, he waited for the room to stand still. The nausea returned carrying the same panic though he knew he wouldn't choke now. He flung himself violently over the edge of the bed and heaved. There wasn't much to give up but his body gave it all he had.

He inched back across the cold, wet blankets slowly. Weak and shaking and still trying to protect his left hand, he reached for the phone. He pressed in the speed dial code for the Consulate. A sleepy Mountie answered.

"Fraser, I need you." Ray said, though his voice sounded harsh and soft.

"Ray?"

"I need you." He couldn't really hear Fraser's voice though he thought the phone had been answered. "It's Ray, I need you, it's Ray, I need you." He repeated himself half a dozen times before his hand gave out and dropped the phone.

Slowly, using his right hand for support he pushed himself up into a sitting position. The room twisted out of his vision for a moment. His stomach gurgled back to life. He closed his eyes. He had to get out of the wet bed. The living room would be warm and dry. He pushed himself forward quickly, his feet landing hard on the scratchy carpet. Everything spun again and he remembered "bed spins" from his early drinking years. His legs collapsed beneath him. Putting his hands up automatically to break the fall, he screamed when broken fingers took the impact. He pulled his knees to his chest and tucked his injured hand behind them.

Ben Fraser looked at his watch as he hung up the phone. He was up and dressed in a hurry. He put on the same blue jeans from the day before with a white Henley shirt. He stopped for a moment to consider if he could get a cab this early. He decided to take the Consulate car. If Ray was in trouble, the Inspector would understand.

Diefenbaker was pacing excitedly. The wolf may not appreciate being awake before dawn but he was always up for an adventure.

"No, I'm sorry, Dief, the Inspector might forgive me for taking the car but he would not forgive me for putting you in the car. He has a negative reaction to your fur." The wolf whined. "Now, no complaining. He has good reason for feeling that way."

The Mountie let the wolf into the courtyard while he wrote a short note to Inspector Conrad. After letting Diefenbaker back in, he frowned at the dripping fur but left him to wander the Consulate anyway.

The drive to Ray's apartment was short but he was anxious. He took the steps two at a time and arrived at the closed door. He knocked but only waited a moment before trying the knob. Pushing the door open, he called out before stepping inside. He barely heard the answer from the bedroom.

Moving carefully, he noticed one of Ray's weapons lying on the kitchen counter. The turtle was contentedly sitting half in water and half on its rock. Ben walked slowly towards the bedroom fighting the urge to rush in without knowing what he was rushing into.

When he finally reached the doorway, he was surprised to find the room empty. Fear tugged at Ben as he walked forward, afraid to imagine what might have happened. He could smell vomit and sweat. The room felt cold and damp. He found Ray lying on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. He knelt down beside him and touched Ray's shoulder. His friend gasped and jerked away from him.

"It's all right, Ray. I'm here to help." Not knowing what happened or why, Ben went with his instincts. He turned him slowly on to his back to get a better look. His friend moaned softly as he blinked his eyes open. Ray's wet clothes were cold and his skin was icy. His lips were gray against stark white skin. Ray didn't struggle but he hissed when Ben brushed against the mitten accidentally. Ben hesitated for a moment, trying to decide what he did to hurt him. Not realizing he had touched the injured hand, he decided to deal with the most immediate threat. "I need to get you warm." He whispered, then stood. He went into the living room closet in search of a drier covering. All he could find was a sleeping bag so he unrolled and unzipped it.

Returning to Ray, Ben talked to him softly as he covered him. He wanted to get him out of the wet clothes but was afraid to move him too much since he didn't know what injuries might be involved. Ray cradled his hand protectively, the red mitten peeking above his right arm.

"What's wrong with your hand, Ray? What's the mitten for?" Ben asked but Ray didn't seem to know he was there. Speaking louder and placing a firm hand against his cheek Ben asked again. Ray opened his eyes. He looked at the Mountie in obvious confusion.

"It's...It's broken." He stuttered, his voice louder than necessary. Ben kept his voice loud, speaking slowly and pronouncing each word distinctly.

"All right then, I'm going to take you to hospital. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"My head's explodin', but I'm not deaf, right?"

"No you're not deaf." Fraser answered, knowing Ray could hear at least some sound. Taking a closer look, he saw a yellowish discharge around Ray's ears and on the carpet beneath him. "It's all right." He said, as much to comfort himself as the detective.

"I hate hospitals, Fraser."

"I know but they are necessary." Ben had lowered his voice and Ray struggled to hear him. Then he seemed to give up on that. His voice continued in that slightly loud tone.

"Don' call my folks."

"Ray."

"Don' call 'em. I'll call 'em when I can."

Ben lifted Ray from the floor slowly. The detective moaned as the change in altitude sent his head into a new level of agony. He leaned heavily on the Mountie while Ben guided him. Getting from the apartment, down the stairs and into the car proved torturous.

Ray seemed mostly unconscious during the drive to the hospital. It took several agonizing minutes for Fraser to help him into the trauma center. The words "head injury" obtained an immediate response from the emergency staff and he was soon being looked after.

Ben called the 27^th District and left a message for Lieutenant Welsh. Then he asked that Vecchio be contacted and told of Kowalski's assault.

After a moment's hesitation, he dialed Ray's district and asked for Lieutenant Connors. He had met Connors twice. The man was not tall, perhaps 5'9 or 5'10. He had a round bald head that still contained a sprinkling of gray hair around the edges. His face was set in a continual scowl. His eyes were dark and small and pushed deep into his skull. His mouth was narrow and small.

On Fraser's second visit to Ray's district the man called him into his office and told him to stay away unless he was reporting a crime. Ray was furious but Ben convinced him that fighting that sort of directive was pointless and would only alienate him further from his superior officer.

Fraser was surprised that Connors had already reported in for the day.

"Leftenant Connors, this is Constable Benton Fraser speaking. I am a friend of Detective..."

"I know who you are, Constable."

"Yes, sir, thank you. Detective Kowalski has been assaulted in his home. He is currently at Cook County Hospital."

"Assaulted in what way, Constable?"

"Regretfully, I don't have any of the details yet, but as his superior officer, I felt you should be informed."

"Well, that's big of you." Connors responded sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, Sir?" Ben said not understanding the man's hostility.

"You're always in the middle of it, aren't you, Constable? Welsh mightuh put up with you but I'm not him, you read me? I'll send a detective down to take his statement. Can he give a statement?"

"Yes, sir." Ben answered, feeling as if he stepped through the looking glass. The phone slammed down in his ear.

"Excuse me, are you Fraser?" Ben turned around to find a young nurse standing behind him. She was slightly taller than him. She had dark brown hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses.

"Yes."

"Mr. Kowalski is asking for you." He followed her down a narrow corridor and into a small white room filled with medical supplies, a metal stool and a bed occupied by a pale detective. He was dressed in hospital clothes and was no longer shivering. The blue-gray tint to his lips had receded. Ray pushed himself up with one hand, his eyes wide with panic.

"Tell 'em I can't go out yet, Fraser." Agitation added a higher pitch to his louder than normal voice.

"Go out where, Ray?"

"Don't let 'em knock me out, I gotta warn Vecchio."

"Warn..."

"It's all about him, Fraser, she's lookin' for 'im." Ben walked over to stand beside the bed. He gently pressed Ray back so he would lie down.

"She? I mean...What does she want with Ray Vecchio?"

"Wait, wait, my head hurts, Frase. God." Ray closed his eyes with an aggravated sigh. "I can't hardly hear and it hurts."

"I'd like to give him a sedative to calm him down." The doctor said softly. He was a young man with dark circles under his eyes and pale skin. Fraser didn't like the look of exhaustion on him. "It'll help with the pain he's experiencing now as well as helping while we set his fingers. There doesn't appear to be any permanent damage to his hearing but the assault to the nerves was serious and painful. It's in his best interest."

"His hearing?" Ben asked as calmly as he could.

"He's experienced some acoustic trauma that resulted in a ruptured eardrum to the left side. I've already started antibiotics for that."

Ben sighed as he made his decision. He felt as if he was choosing between the two Rays. He was still getting pieces of information about the assault and Ray's condition and the reasons for all of it and he desperately wanted to understand. But, he couldn't risk Ray's health for the sake of information.

"We'll look after Detective Vecchio, Ray. We need to look after you as well. Why don't we let these people do their job." Even as he spoke, the doctor inserted a needle into the IV bag attached to the back of Ray's right hand. The sedative started flowing.

"Just listen." Ray insisted, jerking up with a glare at the doctor. "You shouldn't uh done that, damn it, that ain't buddies, ya know?" He looked back at Fraser, "They knew his other name. Ya understand- his other name." Ray couldn't be more detailed with the doctor and nurse in the room. He needed Fraser to hear what he was actually saying.

It took only a moment for Ben to grasp this detail. Ray had to be talking about Armando Langostini. He gave his friend a small smile to hide his worry.

"All right, Ray, just relax." Ben spoke slowly hovering close to his right ear, "I've heard everything you said and I understand. I want you to take some deep breaths now. Nice, slow breaths." Ray followed directions, confident his message had been received. Gradually his eyes started to close. "That's right, Ray. Just breathe."

"Very good," The doctor said, "Thank you for your help. We're going to take him to x-ray now. Will you be staying?"

"Yes thank you, I'll be in the waiting area. Please call me if he needs anything."

"Don't worry, Constable. He's already told us to keep you informed."

Fraser left the treatment room to camp beside the nurses' station. He expected the detective from Ray's district would look there for him. He waited nearly an hour.

A black man of limited stature approached him. He was dressed in gray jeans and a red t-shirt. He wore his badge clipped to his belt buckle. He held his hand out. Ben shook it with a nod. The man's skin and clothes were damp from the rain.

"You're Constable Fraser, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm Detective Peter Regan. I saw you at the station a couple times. I work with Kowalski."

"Ah, yes. Thank you for coming."

"How's he doin'?"

"The doctor is still with him but he was badly injured. They've sedated him."

"Do you know what happened?"

"Not precisely, no. His wounds appear to have been inflicted systematically, deliberately."

"No shit. He was tortured, huh? Never worked a torture case before. You know, stuff that probably shoulduh been called that but never was. This'll be a first."

Ben rubbed his eyes in frustration. He didn't like the man's detached excitement.

"What else can you tell me?" Regan asked.

"At this point, I believe it would be wise to wait until I've spoken to Leftenant Welsh before continuing."

"You do, huh? Why's that?" The man was already posturing.

"There are, shall we say, sensitive issues at stake. I would feel more comfortable..."

"Look, Constable, this ain't Canada. A cop gets hurt, we like to get all the info and arrest people. If you're standin' in the way uh that, then you're standin' in the wrong place." Ben had been standing to one side of Detective Regan. He turned now to stand directly in front of him, looking down at him to grab full eye contact.

"It is not my intention to impede on your progress with this case. Detective Kowalski is my friend. I am more anxious than you to find the individuals involved."

"You sure?" Regan asked. Ben wondered if he could arrest himself for assaulting a police officer. He was saved from getting an answer by the arrival of Welsh.

"Where's Kowalski?" The lieutenant barked. He was dressed in a gray suit with no tie. His dark hair was messy and damp.

"It's good of you to come, Leftenant. He's having x-rays." Ben answered, automatically assuming parade rest.

"Any idea how bad it is?"

"I don't believe his injuries are life threatening, but they are severe. His left hand appears to be broken or perhaps his fingers only and there's some damage to his eardrums. He was wet and nearly frozen when I found him. He was likely in shock as well."

"Damn", Welsh muttered before noticing the officer standing beside Fraser. "Who are you?"

"Detective Peter Regan. I'm investigating the assault on Kowalski."

"Excuse me?" The brown-haired nurse interrupted the three men. "Mr. Fraser?" Ben stepped forward.

"Yes, mam."

"Detective Kowalski is asking for you again."

Ben followed her back to the examination area without a glance to Welsh or Regan. She led him around a corner and back into the small examining room. Ray was lying with his eyes closed. The red mitten was lying on the ceramic counter, a stark contrast to the cotton balls and swabs. He held his left hand against his chest. The whole hand was swollen but the fingers were twisted and bulging. He opened his eyes when he heard the nurse and Fraser approach. Ben stood close to the right side of the bed smiling sympathetically at the battered detective. For the first time, he noticed the injuries on his wrists. Actually, he noticed the bright white bandages surrounding his wrists.

"He'd like you to stay with him while we set his fingers." The nurse said loudly, compensating for Ray's hearing loss. Ray glared at her wishing she had given him the chance to ask.

"Yeah, you know, what she said." He whispered. Ben took his right hand. Ray was startled to see the instantaneous response. But he was grateful too. He didn't like feeling needy but Fraser was making it easy on him.

"How's your hearing?"

"Bad, better maybe than before. Right side anyway. Left is all ringy and fuzzy."

The doctor arrived a moment later. He didn't look any fresher than before. The man had probably worked all night.

Setting the fingers was an agonizing process. He splinted each one individually. Two of the fingers had two separate breaks each. The other three consisted of single breaks above the knuckles. He asked the nurse to finish for him as he left with barely a word. The nurse slipped a sling around Ray's neck and placed his arm inside.

Ray was sweating badly. He felt light-headed and his old friend -nausea- had crept back in. Ben remained like a sturdy tree, holding his hand and talking to him, trying to keep him somewhat distracted.

The nurse told him to stay in bed. The doctor had already said he would not need to spend the night but they wanted to keep him under observation for awhile longer.

"Man I hate this." Ray said, his blue eyes looking bright and glassy.

"I know, but they are trying to help you."

"Yeah, I guess." He looked up at the Mountie, "Thanks, ya know, for stayin'."

"You're welcome, Ray. I'll stay and drive you home when you're ready." Both men fell into an easy silence while they waited. Then Ray pushed himself up on the bed with his good hand and winced when his wrist banged against the metal rail. Ben frowned but hesitated to chastise him. Once Ray settled again, he asked if Lieutenant Connors had sent anyone to take his statement.

"Yes, a Detective Peter Regan." Ben answered.

"He's all right. Seems like a good cop."

"You don't know him well?"

"Nah, ya know, don't know any uh the guys, really."

"Why is that, Ray? You've been working with them for over a year now."

"Connors don't like me. Rest of 'em prob'ly figure he won't like them if we get too chummy. Politics. You got some experience with that, right, Frase?"

"Yes, some." Ben answered, knowing Ray was hinting at his exile from Canada for turning in the man who murdered his father.

Ray closed his eyes. The fluorescent light shone too brightly. Sick and hurt and tired, he wished the drugs they gave him would knock him out.

"You found Vecchio yet?"

"No, that is, I haven't, I don't know if anyone else has located him."

"Well, why don't ya go talk t'Welsh an' find out. I gotta talk to Vecchio. That kid wasn't givin' up."

"Did you tell her what she wanted, Ray? Is that why she left you?" Ben hadn't meant to ask that question. He knew they needed the answer, but he hadn't wanted to ask yet. Somehow the words were spoken before he could stop them.

Ray opened his eyes. The pain in his face was unmistakable though it was fleeting. The detective blinked and his expression returned to show exhaustion only.

"First, there were three of 'em. One chick, two guys. And second, no," He answered softly, "I didn't tell 'em anything."

"Then why did they...?"

"Yer doubtin' me now?" Exhaustion had turned to anger.

"No, no, of course not, Ray. I believe you. I am merely trying to understand what transpired."

"Yeah, fine. Why don't ya go see if Welsh found Vecchio an' I can tell all of yawhat transpiredhow would that be, Frase?"

"Ray, I never meant to imply..." Ray looked into his friend's anguished expression and felt guilty.

"I know, s'okay. I'm just tired, ya know? Everything hurts. I just need t'get some sleep."

Ben considered his options. He could stay with Kowalski until they came to release him. He wanted to do that. He was worried about Ray, concerned about his reaction to the assault. Or he could go in the hall and see if Vecchio had been found. That seemed to be what Ray wanted.

The detective had closed his eyes again. He put his right hand below the sling, lying against his stomach. Ben squeezed his shoulder and left to find Welsh.

Welsh and Regan were sitting in the waiting room chairs near the entrance door. Neither man was speaking. In fact, Welsh seemed to be studying a magazine intensely. Regan was staring at a television that was playing a health information videotape. Currently the woman on the tape was asking a trivia question about the healthiest fast food meal. She held up a hamburger, a breaded chicken sandwich and a slice of pizza and labeled them A, B and C. She promised to return with the correct answer.

Welsh stood when he saw Fraser approaching. Regan noticed and stood as well.

"Have you been in touch with Detective Vecchio, Sir?"

"Yeah. He'd already given the deposition and was driving back."

"Does he know what's happened?"

"Some of it. He should be meeting us here in about an hour."

"What does Vecchio have to do with this?" Regan asked. Listening had netted him Vecchio's name and title but nothing more.

"That's something we'll determine after he arrives, Detective." Welsh said. Regan frowned, obviously irritated by the rebuff.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant, but I am the investigating detective. I'm going to interview Kowalski in a few minutes so whatever is going on is going to come out." Welsh clasped the man on the shoulder. He spoke with a smile but his tone was not friendly.

"Relax, Detective. This incident may be related to a federal matter so you may not be investigating for long. Let's go back over here and have a seat. No one's gonna see Kowalski until Vecchio gets here."

"Uh, Sir?" Fraser asked.

"Except the Mountie."

"Thank you, Sir."

Under an hour passed before a dripping Ray Vecchio appeared in the Emergency Room waiting area. He spotted Welsh first. Then he noticed the detective standing nearby talking on a payphone. Vecchio had never seen the man before but he could spot a cop anywhere. Welsh greeted him, then walked him towards the nurses' station away from Regan.

"I haven't contacted the FBI yet. I want to hear Kowalski's story first to find out the seriousness of this breach. The guy on the phone is Detective Regan from Kowalski's district. He's investigating the assault. So far he's being a real pain in the butt. Fraser is with Kowalski but the last time he checked in, he said Ray is sleeping so I don't know what we're gonna get from him."

"I'd like to keep the Feds out of this if we can, Sir. They were pressing pretty hard to put me in witness protection when I came back. I don't wanna do that."

"I know. Hopefully, we won't need to go to those extremes. Now, I'm gonna distract Regan for awhile. Kowalski's just down the hall there. Go see if he's up to giving a statement. Once you get the whole story we can talk about bringing Regan in if that makes sense or getting rid of him which might make more sense."

"Who called 'im anyway?"

"Big Red. Thought he was being a good cop, reporting the crime to Kowalski's district. I don't think he realized what was going on yet."

"Better run your interference, here comes Regan."

Welsh stopped Regan while Ray walked past him towards the hall. He stared at his shoes to avoid meeting the other detective's gaze. He reached the treatment room and found the door was open. The first thing he noticed was Fraser sitting beside the bed. The concern showed in his tight features. Vecchio hesitated to look further. He didn't want to see Kowalski injured and know it was because of him. Ben noticed his arrival before he could come in and left his vigil to join him.

"How is he?" Vecchio whispered.

"In no immediate danger." Ben answered.

"Is he awake?"

"No. He's been sleeping fitfully for some time. He wakes every few minutes to see if you've arrived."

"Maybe I should come back later. Give 'im a chance to rest." Vecchio said it like he was thinking of Kowalski but he was really trying to avoid going in. Fraser apparently missed his true motive.

"I don't believe he'll rest until he speaks with you."

"Did he tell you anything?"

"Some of it. It may be more beneficial to hear this directly from him though. We should stay to the right in order for him to hear us properly."

Ray had no choice now but to go in and hear what the other Ray had to tell him. There were so many reasons why he didn't want to.

Once inside the room and standing beside Kowalski's bed, Ray felt a shiver run through his body. The other man had a nasty bruise along his jaw line. His hand was bundled in a sling. His wrists were bandaged. The sight made Ray's vision dim. The room seemed to spin beneath him. He had to hold on to the metal railing of the bed to remain steady.

Fraser noticed none of this. He took Kowalski's hand and whispered softly to him. Blue eyes appeared beneath heavy lids, then disappeared again only to return in full view after a couple of blinks. He stared at Ben, looking confused for a moment. He mouthed a word that looked like "Dad" before recognition set in. Then he noticed Vecchio. It was obvious as he started to work harder against the drugs in his system. Finally, he seemed to settle into consciousness.

"Vecchio." He said though his voice was weak and hoarse.

"Yeah, it's me. How ya doin'"

"Good. I'm good." He answered, then winced when a stab of pain jerked his hand.

"You ready to tell me about this?" Vecchio asked, wanting to get it over with. He already knew a lot from just seeing Kowalski's injuries. He noticed Ben frown at him though and figured he must sound like he was pushing. Apparently that was true because Kowalski pushed himself up by his good hand. His breath was coming faster and his eyes were too bright.

"Yeah, I gotta. The girl, just a kid really. She said to tell ya she wouldn't stop lookin'. I mean I never admitted to anything. But, she saw us at the Consulate yesterday. She recognized ya."

"It's all right, Ray." Ben soothed. "Just take your time. Can you start from the beginning?" Ray leaned back in the bed, too weak to stay propped up. He only glanced at Fraser before returning his attention to Vecchio.

"That's right," Vecchio was saying, "slow down a little. Take your time."

"They were fu..friggin' waitin' fer me when I got home." Ray said. His voice was shaking slightly and he stared at the ceiling. "Two guys jumped me in the bedroom. Wasn't much of a fight, ya know? Surprised me. Used a knit cap t'cover my eyes fer awhile. The girl showed up, mightuh been there all the time, I don' know, but uh, she said 'er name was Nicole." Vecchio closed his eyes at the name. "Said she wanted t'find Mondo. Hell, I thought she had the wrong guy. Didn't know she meant you till later. She was strange, kinduh calm, soft voice, talked slow like she had the rest uh the week. 'Cept we didn't talk that much." Ray took a breath and glanced at Vecchio. He was listening but his mouth was drawn in a thin, tight line. Ray returned his eyes to the ceiling. Vecchio was scaring him a little.

"She, uh, asked me an' I didn't know who she meant. They stuffed a rag down my throat. I guess they didn't want the neighbors t'hear me." Ben felt his stomach clench. Anger and revulsion and an overwhelming sense of regret passed through him. It made him feel sick.

Ray continued with his statement. The detachment in his voice was spooky. He sounded like he was describing a movie or a distant event. When he started describing the strange comforting gestures Nicole made towards him, Vecchio interrupted.

"She was trying to give you something to compare to. Remind you how much better things could be if you told her. It's a tactic." Both Ray and Fraser looked at him, surprised by his insight.

"You know about this?" Ben asked.

"Yeah," Vecchio answered, nodding. "She's Franco Iguana's niece. His wife's niece. Nicole Riazzi."

"She said she was yer friend. You'd wanna see 'er." Ray said, his left hand jerking involuntarily.

"Look, why don't you finish telling us what happened and then I'll tell you what I know about Nicki."

Ray hesitated. He wasn't sure what he expected from Vecchio, but the man seemed to be annoyed. Recounting the horror of the night before was difficult enough without getting hostility in return. But he looked at Fraser and sighed. In reverse, Fraser would do his duty. He would just tell them what happened so the bad guys would get caught. Hell, Fraser would probably highjack a wheelchair and go off looking for them.

"After they, uh, did the stereo thing fer awhile, I got sick an' they took the gag outta my mouth so I could, ya know.... But then she, uh.... They gagged me again an' opened the window. Just kinduh left me with the music blarin' an' me freezin' t'death. Guess I wasn't freezin' fast enough cause they came back and dumped water on me." Ben shuddered, automatically putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, instinctively wanting to protect him.

Kowalski didn't react to the touch. He finished his statement quickly. He smiled a little when he remembered the headphones breaking but his voice shook while he recounted the breaking of his fingers and the subsequent attempt to freeze him again. Confusion and disbelief filled wet eyes as he described the strange way they released him and covered him with a dry blanket.

"I think they stuck the mitten on my hand to get it warm, ya know? It was weird."

"They think you're a friend of Armando Langostini. They wouldn't want 'im too piss...upset at 'em." Vecchio said.

Nausea welled up again in Kowalski and this time he couldn't stop it. Not able to disengage himself from the hospital bed quickly enough, Ray threw himself over the edge and dry heaved. Fraser rubbed his back and held his forehead until he stopped. Vecchio stood by helplessly, not knowing what he should or could do. When Ray's body settled, Fraser helped him to lay back, then left his side to wet a cloth. The cool water felt soothing against his warm face.

Vecchio had moved away from the bed. He stared out into the corridor.

A long silence filled the room. Ben was stunned and disturbed by Ray's story. Vecchio was seething though he tried to hide it by keeping his back to the two men. Ray was exhausted from the telling, from the retching and from the drugs he had been fighting. Under the gentle caring of his friend, he finally lost his battle to stay awake and Ben sighed with relief when the slender detective slipped into sleep.

Ray Vecchio regained control of his emotions. He turned back to see Fraser pulling Kowalski's blankets over him, covering the injured hand. He touched his forehead gently, then straightened up. The small, comforting gesture pushed Ray too far. He wanted to run from the room but managed to stay in control long enough to stride quickly into the hall. He couldn't stand the idea of being indoors so he used an emergency exit to go outside where the cold rain fell over him like wet snow.

The day was dark and gray. Light barely passed through the full thick clouds.

Ben reached him a few moments later. Ray was crouched by the hospital wall, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. He rocked back and forth like a frightened child. As Ben drew closer he could hear him repeating the same litany over and over, "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God".

"Ray." Ben said, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Benny, oh God, Benny, did you see him? Did you hear him? I did this, Benny, I let this happen. Oh my God!"

"Ray, Ray, Ray." Ben rarely repeated Vecchio's name to him the way he did with Kowalski. Ray stopped talking. He stopped rocking. He kept his eyes on the pavement.

"This wasn't your fault." Ben said quietly. Ray brushed him off angrily and stood up. He was too furious to be comforted.

"He didn't tell them. Why didn't he fu...dammit...tell 'em? My God, he should've just told 'em everything. What is wrong with him?"

"He believed he was protecting you, Ray." Ben stated, knowing Ray knew this but hoping to reach him.

"Stupid. Stupid, stupid. Who asked 'im? Who said, 'Hey Stanley, if they ever come to torture ya, just be sure to keep yer mouth shut? Who told 'im to do that?"

"He believed it was his duty. He took your name for a year in order to protect you, that's all he was doing."

"No, Benny, that is not it. His job was over. He hasn't been me in a year. He was so stupid to let them do this." Ben felt a stab of anger. He pictured Kowalski, his haunted blue eyes, glassy and focused as he told them of the horror he suffered. Then he looked at Vecchio. He was pacing back and forth, his arms flailing as he spoke, his face a mask of anger and pain.

"Ray, this was not your fault."

Ray stopped pacing. He leaned against the wall of the hospital building. Ben watched as he folded into himself. His arms covering his chest. His body sliding down so that he was tucked behind his knees. When Ben crouched beside him, he didn't brush him off this time. He stayed there shaking and quiet for a long time. Long enough for Ben to consider the cold and the rain and worry about his health. When Ray spoke again, his voice was soft and scratched.

"I didn't have to hear Kowalski's story, Benny. I already knew." Ben stiffened with confusion.

"How did you...?"

"Not about him, I mean, I knew. I was there when Nicki did the same thing a couple years ago. I was Langostini then. I couldn't do anything about it. I didn't take part, I didn't do that but I could've. If Nicki expected it and I couldn't have gotten out without blowing my cover... But, she didn't want me to. She wanted me to watch because she was showing off. Showing me she's as tough as her uncle. As tough as me."

"So, you think she did this to Kowalski in order to..."

"To remind me so I'd know it was her."

"Did she kill the other person?"

"Yes she did, Benny. She left him in the cold after she broke all the fingers on both hands. Just kept dousing him with water and letting nature take its course. It took three days. And she did it, Benny. She broke his fingers, she didn't get some lackey to do it."

"And you were there the whole time?"

"Nicki wanted me to be but Franco sent me to LA for a week. She was 19 then. I told her to let the guy go. I really wanted to keep her from killing someone. The fact that she could torture the guy like that was bad enough. I didn't think she liked doing it. You know what I mean? I didn't see that in her. So, I thought she'd do what I told her. I mean, when I thought about it, which wasn't much because I couldn't be Langostini and still be worryin' about this loser junkie that Nicki didn't like. I didn't know until I got back."

Ben could see the toll the story had taken on his friend. Ray rarely discussed his undercover assignment but he knew terrible things had happened. Ray was not the same person as the man who left. He was almost the same. So close, in fact, that it was easy to ignore the changes. But Ben saw them. The way he didn't laugh as easily, the quiet intensity he took with his job, the way he belittled some of the suspects they arrested. There was nothing outwardly different, nothing anyone could point to and say "yes, that's it, that's what's wrong or that's what's missing." But, the differences were there.

"How did she escape the arrests when you came back?"

"She's just a kid, Benny. Nobody cared about her."

"She's a murderer who should be brought to justice."

"Leave it alone." Ray said, more forcefully now, irritation mixing with anger.

"Ray..."

"The Feds didn't get her because I never mentioned her, all right?" Lowering his voice, he said, "We took down a lot of big guys, Benny, they didn't need a small timer like Nicole Riazzi."

"What is your connection to this girl, Ray?"

"What do you think I've been telling you?"

"No, what is your connection to this girl?" Ray straightened up. He smoothed down his jacket.

"She and I, we were friends, all right? Franco asked me to keep an eye on her. Franco and Armando were tight, you know. Franco was Nicki's Godfather."

"He was a hired killer."

"Yes he was, but he had a life besides that, Benny. He wasn't killin' people 24 hours a day. And part of his life was his wife and her family. Donna was worrying about her niece because her old man was a drunk and her mother was a whore and the kid had no one to watch out for her. Franco took her in. Family is family, ya know. But, Franco's a busy guy. Half the time he wasn't around and so he asked his good friend, Armando Langostini to help watch the kid. All this happened while I was there. I don't think Nicki ever knew the real Langostini."

"So you helped her."

"I tried to. She liked me right away. Probably cause of Armando's reputation, but whatever, we got along. She really wanted to be a wiseguy. She wanted to show Franco she could make it in the family. She figured bein' a contract killer was a good job because of the money and once you got established you could make your own hours, be more or less self employed. She figured that's why her uncle put us together. I tried to talk her out of it. Tried to show her the down side but to be honest, there isn't that much down side if you can handle the violence. Langostini had a nice house, servants, respect. Not much of a downside at all."

"And she was adept at 'handling the violence' as you say?"

"Yeah, the kid was cast iron. Nothin' shook 'er." Ben heard the pride in Vecchio's voice and it disturbed him that Ray found such a quality admirable.

He was about to mention it when he noticed a man wearing a long black trench coat walking towards them with a shotgun facing down at his side. He took Ray's arm intending to retreat into the hospital but Ray pulled back and pointed. Another man was walking from the other direction, also armed but not aiming. Ray started to go for his weapon until Nicole Riazzi called to him from the parking lot. Ray turned towards her voice, frozen for a moment. The distraction allowed the two men to reach them. One of them advised the Detective and the Mountie to remain still. He reached into Ray's coat and removed his gun.

"Mr. Langostini, Ms. Riazzi would like you to join us. And I think we'll take your friend as well."

"You don't need him." Ray growled.

"We'll see."

Two vehicles left the hospital parking lot. One was a gold Lexus being driven by Nicole Riazzi. The other was a brown van. One of the trench coats drove while his partner sat in the back with a shotgun guarding their two prisoners.

Ben sat with his knees to his chest, leaning against the van wall. Ray sat beside him with his legs laid out in front of him. He waited until the noise in the back was loud from wind and metal rattling before he leaned over to whisper in his partner's ear.

"You say nothing. Let me do all the talking."

"Understood." Ben answered.

They didn't drive for long. Ben estimated fifteen or twenty minutes passed before the vehicle parked. The back door was opened and their guard motioned for Ray and Ben to get out. Ray jumped down first. When they were both clear of the van doors, one of the trench coats slammed them shut. They were standing in front of a small cottage type house with a brick front. Soon the driver joined them and the four men walked through a short brown gate. Square cement blocks lined the walk to a wide porch that covered three fourths of the front of the house. The porch was more like a wooden deck with tall brown pillars. One of the trench coats unlocked the door. He went inside first while his companion herded Ray and Ben inside.

The front door opened into a small foyer with white ceramic tile and dark wood trim. There was a narrow spiral stairway near the left wall. The right wall housed a wide doorway that led to a large living room. The ceramic tile gave way to thick gray carpeting. The walls were painted a pale mauve. A matching couch, loveseat and recliner shared the gray of the carpet with a darker mauve print. Black lacquer end tables, coffee tables and lamps finished the room.

The blond trench coat pointed at the couch and told them to sit. He then nodded at his darker partner. That man nodded back before leaving the room and then going out the front door. Several moments passed while the blond tried to stare hard at the Detective and the Mountie. Ray stared hard back while Ben surveyed the room and their surroundings. He wondered if the owner of this unique furniture would be annoyed by the water stains he and Ray were likely to leave. He let go of that thought when he heard the front door re-open.

Nicole Riazzi strolled in, looking dry and neat. The trench coat was shaking water out of his ear. Ben figured he had gone out with an umbrella to escort the young woman into the house. She looked at Ray seriously for a moment, then broke into a wide smile.

"Mondo!" She said holding out her arms. To Ben's surprise, Ray relaxed visibly and crossed the room to hug her.

"Nicki, it's good to see you." They separated, happily sizing each other up. Ray's posture had changed. He stood straighter, his shoulders were pulled back and his legs were apart. Even his voice had taken a deeper, more intense tone.

"I've missed you. You don't know what last year's been like. Uncle Franco is in jail, even Aunt Donna got arrested. So many others are waiting for trial or disappeared as you did."

"I know, I heard."

"That's why you left, right Mondo? You knew it was coming down so you got out fast. You were always the smart one. I was surprised that you left Uncle Franco behind but I suppose you had to look after yourself. No one could outdo the Bookman." Ray smiled at the use of Langostini's nickname.

"I've tried to be smart, Nicki, but you found me didn't ya?"

"Oh, thatthat was an accident. Everyone said you were dead. I didn't believe it but I never expected...Anyway, I'm in Chicago on business. Yesterday, I needed some time to think so I took a walk. And there you were, clear as day, talking to that cop. Not that I knew he was a cop but I knew it was you. Even without the moustache. Even in that old green tank you were driving."

"Hey, watch your mouth, that car is a classic." Nicole laughed and touched Ray's arm.

"Oh, a little sensitive, huh? Sorry about that." The girl's smile faded with the teasing, "Speaking of sorry, is that cop a friend of yours or what? He sure didn't want to tell me where you were."

"Nah, not really a friend, just a cop. But, he was doing his job, not telling anyone about me. Superman complex, you know the type."

Ben bristled at the description but he stayed quiet. He trusted Ray even if he couldn't decide what his friend was doing. Nicole looked over Ray's shoulder at him and smiled politely. He didn't like the look in the girl's eyes. Whatever innocence Ray sensed in her two years earlier was gone. The girl was feral.

"Why would a cop be protectin' you?" Nicole asked and Ben held his breath but Ray answered smoothly.

"That's a long story, Nicki. You and me are gonna have to talk about that alone. Without the entourage, okay?"

Nicole seemed to think about that. She looked directly into Ray's eyes, studying them intensely. Ray stared back at her. He didn't blink or flinch. His mouth was a harsh line across his face.

"Can I trust you, Mondo?" Ray broke the gaze with a smile and threw his arm around the girl's shoulders.

"What do you think?" Nicole laughed and hugged Ray.

"Okay, okay." She pointed at Ben and spoke to the trench coats, "Get rid uh him. We're goin' upstairs." Ben blanched and Ray broke from the embrace.

"Hey, hey, you're not gonna..."

"Relax. They're just gonna lock him up 'til we're done. Who is this guy anyway?"

"He's a friend of mine. Not like Kowalski, all right? Nothing happens to this man." This was the closest Ray had come to sounding like himself since Nicole arrived and Ben was glad to hear it.

"No problem, we'll treat him real gentle. Let's go on upstairs."

Ray missed the backward glance that Nicole gave to her cohorts. Ben frowned. He recognized that look.

He stood up slowly watching the two men advance. Using his hands for leverage, he vaulted over the back of the couch putting an extra couple of feet between himself and the others. They were clearly surprised by the maneuver. The darker of the two men laughed. The blond said,

"That's pretty good. Athletic fella, huh? Well, yer headin' in the right direction, just keep on goin' through that door behind ya." Ben glanced around and found a closed door. Surrounded again, he turned and pushed the door open.

When he first stumbled inside it took a moment to realize why he was having difficulty with his legs. The sudden pain in his skull and the next blow to his lower back clarified things for him. He landed on his knees near a bed.

"We don't have time to get fancy like we did with the cop so we're just gonna talk the old fashioned way." The blond said, "Ms. Riazzi thinks her pal is hiding something from her. And she's betting you know what it is."

Somewhere beyond the buzzing in his head, Ben heard the outer door close.

Ray followed Nicole up the spiral staircase. He tried not to think past the next few moments.

The top of the stairwell opened into one large room that nearly filled the upstairs. The room was tastefully decorated in caramel colors accented by darker browns. A large poster bed stood to the left surrounded by dressers and a nightstand. To the right was a couch and love seat. Behind the couch was a stocked wet bar. On the far right stood an open door that hinted at a lavish bathroom.

"Have a seat, Mondo. You want a drink?"

"A little early, isn't it?" Although to Ray, it was hard to believe that it was only slightly past noon. Twelve hours earlier he had been watching a late movie in a hotel room after giving the shortest deposition of his life.

"How about club soda then? I remember you liked club soda and lime."

"Sure, that'd be good." Ray answered. "So, uh, who's house?"

"No one's. I rented it for a few days."

"So, what was the deal with Kowalski anyway? You could've traced the license on my car or hung out at the Consulate to see if I'd come back."

"Well, I have to confess I was so stunned to see you that I didn't get the license. And I didn't even consider waiting around. I was so anxious to find you. Besides I figured even if Kowalski didn't answer my question, you were bound to show up at the hospital. That's why I let him live. I needed to have him in a place I could watch. And I figured once you knew the details of what happened to him, you'd recognize my calling card."

"Yeah, but, what if I didn't go t'the hospital? Now that you say it like that, it wasn't very smart of me."

"Actually, Mondo, I was thinking that too. A couple of years ago, you wouldn't have made a mistake like that."

"You're right." Ray conceded.

"But, even if you didn't, I knew the Mountie would. He spent the day with Kowalski. They were obviously friends and since you were in the Consulate seeing him, I knew he'd lead me to you. I figured odds were that you wouldn't have two people willing to go through all that to protect you." Ray's stomach clenched at the thought of Fraser being hurt the way Kowalski had been. He was surprised when his voice was still steady.

"How'd ya know I was seeing him?"

"I stopped in after they left and asked this real strange guy with blond hair, wearin' his dress reds. He didn't make a lot of sense but he did tell me you were friends with the guy downstairs. Fraser's his name, right?" Ray froze, sensing the danger. If anyone could mess them up, it would be Constable Turnbull.

"What'd he tell you?"

"He said you were a cop, Mondo." Nicole turned around to look at Ray. Vecchio had stopped in front of the couch hoping he didn't look as panicked as he felt. "But he was so scattered, I figure he must have thought I was talking about Kowalski."

The danger was real now. Ray heard the change in Nicole's tone. The girl was lying. He moved from between the couch and coffee table wanting more room to maneuver. But, Nicole just smiled and returned to preparing their drinks.

"Kowalski said you took care of him afterward. Gave 'im a blanket, closed the window." Ray wanted to keep her talking, keep everything sounding normal and reasonable.

"Lonnie reminded me that this guy was protecting you and that might mean you wouldn't want him hurt. He said it might be unwise to hurt a friend of the Bookman. That you might get upset. I guess you know your reputation precedes you."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

Ray knew what he had to do. And he had the means to do it. He just didn't know if he could. He vividly remembered meeting Nicki. The girl was shy at first. Once she started to feel at ease, the two bonded. They played a lot of basketball and Nicki taught him to play chess. Eventually she spent more time with Armando Langostini than she did with her aunt and uncle. Ray didn't mind. He genuinely liked having her around.

Breaking glass startled him. The sound came from downstairs. Nicole ran to the window overlooking the courtyard. Ray followed her in time to see Fraser beating a path across the lawn and over a small cement wall. The trench coats were chasing him. They were not carrying weapons and had shed their coats. Fraser out ran them easily and by the time they reached the wall, both were clearly lost as to where the Mountie had disappeared to.

Ray grabbed Nicole by the shoulders and slammed her into the wall near the wet bar. He slammed her again for good measure before growling.

"I fuckin' told you nothin' happens to him."

"He must have panicked." Nicole answered softly. "I wouldn't hurt your friend."

Ray released her and Nicole slumped over her knees to catch her breath.

"You're a liar." Ray said, taking a few steps away from her. He reached for the gun he carried in an ankle holster. Nicole couldn't answer yet. She took a few more seconds to steady herself before rising. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of Ray's spare gun pointed at her.

"You don't need that."

"I think I do, Nicki. I told you there's stuff t'talk about."

"What's there to say, Detective...Vecchio, right? Detective Raymond Vecchio?" Hearing his given name from the lips of his former charge made Ray shudder. He knew something was off but he never expected Nicole to know real name. It took a moment to recover enough to speak.

"That's right. Armando Langostini is dead." The girl blanched at the news, so Ray continued. "You never knew him, Nicki. You only knew me. I'm the one you remember. The Bookman died more than two years ago."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. You know I'm not."

"You have to be. Uncle Franco..."

"He never knew. He thought I was Langostini."

"You couldn't have fooled us all."

"Yes, I did. I'm the one you beat at chess. I'm the one you waited for when you thought I'd been killed in that ambush. I'm the one who took care of you when you got that bad flu. I'm the guy, Nicki."

Ray watched the girl intently. He watched her face as realization came to her. She was white with shock and disbelief. Ray didn't hear Lonnie as the man ascended the stairs.

Just as the man pulled the trigger, Ray heard the scrape of metal against the bannister. He didn't look first. He dove over the couch, landing on his side near the wet bar. In a single motion he rolled to his knees and fired in the direction of the steps. Lonnie had already moved into the room. Ray spotted him and fired again just as Lonnie fired through the sofa. Both men hit their targets. Ray felt the tug through the flesh of his upper arm, then looked up surprised when he was laying on his back staring at the ceiling. The gun still hung clenched in his fist but his arm was shaking.

Nicole appeared above him. She held a small handgun. It looked like a service revolver and Ray wondered if it belonged to Kowalski. He tried to bring his own gun up but his body refused to obey. Sadly he realized the girl he remembered was nowhere inside the grim face above him. The eyes looking down on him belonged to someone else, someone dark and soulless. Ray sighed in mourning for that girl.

Just as Nicole started to speak, Ray threw all his strength into twisting his legs around and sweeping them into his would be killer. He caught her just behind the knees and she fell on her butt. Adrenaline pumping, Ray rammed his head into the girl's stomach sending her skittering on to her back. Still, Nicole brought her gun up with a deadly glint in her eyes.

"Don't!" Ray yelled but it was too late. As Nicole pulled the trigger, Ray pulled his.

This time only one bullet found its target.

Nicole jerked backward, blood spattering from the solid circle in her forehead. She seemed stunned for a moment before collapsing on her back. The recoil of his own weapon knocked Ray off balance. He lay still, staring once more at the ceiling. His arm was throbbing badly as he let the gun drop beside him.

When Ben stumbled into the bedroom, he forced himself to concentrate on his surroundings. If he had any hope of escaping, he would need to use the items in this small room. He also needed to forestall any more violence. The second blow to his lower back left him on his knees trying to gather his breath. One of the men, the blond one, approached him and just as he saw his foot go back in preparation of kicking him, Ben flipped on to his side and held his hand up.

"All right," he managed to gasp, "All right." The foot returned to its place on the floor. He took another moment to catch his breath before he righted himself so he was sitting. He leaned against the bed for support. As his vision settled, he cleared his throat, still holding a defensive hand in front of him.

"Perhaps you could tell me what you want to know." Ben said carefully. The blond man knelt down in front of him.

"You know who I am?"

"Not precisely, no. I believe your name is Lonnie but whether that is first or last..."

"I'm the guy who broke your buddy's fingers." He said, menacingly. "Snapped 'em one by one while Mario sat on his chest." Ben wasn't certain how to respond to that. He could hear the implied threat but the anger in him overwhelmed any fear he might have. "You wanna avoid something worse, you tell me about Mr. Langostini."

"He is a paid accountant and oddly, an assassin, associated with the Iguana crime family." Ben answered simply.

Lonnie took his hair viciously and yanked his head back. Ben gasped in surprise and pain. "Tell me something I don't know."

"You better take it easy, Lonnie. Langostini's mean as a snake and he ain't gonna like seein' his buddy hurt." Mario said.

"Shut up." Snapped his partner.

"How would I know what it is you are aware of or not aware of?" Ben asked, innocently, "We've only just met. There's no way for me to determine what you may know or believe you know." Lonnie frowned in confusion. He thrust his prisoner's head back further.

Ben took this opportunity to bring both arms around Lonnie's body. He shoved with all his strength. Lonnie was already off balance from his position on the floor. The force sent him flipping over Ben's legs and into the legs of his partner. Mario tried to brace himself but the surprise impact caused him to stumble. He reached for the dresser to regain his balance, missed and tumbled over Lonnie. Both men were entangled long enough for Ben to find his feet. He yanked a lamp out of its plug and thrust it through the nearest window. Then he followed the lamp taking more glass and debris with him.

Ben landed on his side with a thud. He rolled to his feet and was running before he heard Lonnie's voice screaming at him. He gauged the distance before him and the surrounding trees. A three foot cement wall marking the end of the property stood in his path. Beyond that, a heavy patch of trees waited.

Ben thought about Ray. He would hear the breaking glass and hopefully realize what happened. He hated to leave him behind, even temporarily, but since he had no idea what Ray intended to reveal, he could not risk staying to reveal anything at all. Ben vaulted the wall easily. The pounding footsteps behind him were still too far away to overtake him. He made the trees and didn't stop until he was sure the two men were no longer following.

He took a few moments to catch his breath and ease the pounding in his skull. Crouching beneath an old Chestnut tree, he took another moment to check himself out. A round knot near the base of his skull, from the butt of a shotgun he imagined, remembering the sudden disorientation when he stumbled into the bedroom. A few sore spots along his abdomen and back caused by the scuffle with Lonnie and the flight through the bedroom window. He was surprised to find no cuts from the glass. A scrape ran along the side of his right hand but it wasn't bleeding and couldn't be properly categorized as a real injury.

Once he was satisfied with his own wellbeing, he started to consider Ray's. He needed to get back to the house. Deciding to take a circuitous route in case Lonnie and Mario had resumed their search, Ben headed towards the far end of the tree line. He only managed a few steps before he heard gunshots from the house. Discarding all thoughts of caution, he started running directly along his previous path and burst into the yard before stopping to consider a plan.

Looking around carefully, he established that he was alone outside. Apparently, Lonnie and Mario decided he was not worth the trouble to catch. Taking more time and caution, he vaulted the cement wall again and made his way towards the bedroom window. He knew he could gain access to the house from there and it was unlikely they were expecting his return.

Ben approached the window carefully from the side of the building. Crouching low, he stayed close to the wall, then peered around the edge for a quick look into the room. A fluttering curtain gave him pause, then he recognized the movement and verified the room was empty. Ben climbed in slowly trying to limit the noise from the crunching glass though it looked like most of the jagged edges had been cleared away.

Once inside the bedroom, Ben made his way to the door leading into the livingroom. A quick look showed him that Mario was nervously pacing in front of the sofa. The man was armed and anxious and Ben wasn't sure he could take him by surprise. Still, he had to try. He didn't know if Ray was still upstairs, if he was injured or killed. The gunshots could only mean that Ray's plan, whatever it was, had not gone the way he intended.

A second volley of gunfire solved Ben's immediate problem. Mario ran for the stairs and Ben followed only a few steps behind. He tackled him just as they reached the foyer. Mario fell hard into the stairs banging his head against the metal with a thud. Ben dragged the stunned mobster back from the steps. Without handcuffs, Ben had to be creative. He took the narrow mauve ties holding the curtains back and used them to tie Mario's hands behind his back and then to gag him. Mario was still quite loud as Ben used his feet to drag him back to the living room then around the sofa and into the bedroom. Once they arrived there, Ben used the curtain ties from that room to bind his ankles and then secure his arms to the bed frame. Satisfied the man was as immobile as possible, Ben shut the bedroom door and ran back to the stairs.

No one appeared at the top. Ben climbed slowly forcing himself to be cautious. Since Ray had not called out or come down, he feared the worst.

At the top of the stairs, Ben found Lonnie first. The blond mobster was dead with a gaping hole in his chest. A frightening amount of blood pooled around him. Scanning past Lonnie, he saw Nicole lying on her back. She appeared to be staring at the ceiling but Ben had seen death enough to know what it looks like. He advanced further up the stairs. Where was Ray?

Going to Nicole, he checked for a pulse but the head wound left a messy hole in the back of her skull. There was no doubt of her condition. He turned around feeling sick at the sight of so much carnage and out of panic for his missing friend. A small moan brought him to his feet. Looking on the opposite side of the couch, he found Ray in an ever widening circle of blood.

He knelt beside him. The wound in his arm was obvious but his clothes were soaked by blood and Ben had to search to see if there was any other damage. Not finding anything else, Ben pulled his own shirt over his head and took off his t-shirt. He wrapped the arm in the cotton cloth. Ray moaned disagreeably at the treatment.

"I'm sorry, Ray. I'll be right back." He said before leaving him to use the phone.

The police had to trace the call while Ben left the line open since he had no idea where they were. Within a few minutes, police and ambulances had been dispatched.

Ben slipped his outer shirt back over his head before he sat down and pulled Ray into his lap. His mind was spinning as he stared into the pale face of his best friend. He looked over at Nicole Riazzi, then at Lonnie, then back to Nicole. The tin smell of blood filled the room. Something nagged at the corner of his mind but he couldn't quite decide what it was. Until he took one more look at Nicole. Slowly he realized what had to be done. In order to protect both of the Rays, Armando Langostini had to be dead.

Slipping from under Ray, he laid him back carefully. He hated to leave him alone but there was no time to waste. He stood up with a last look, making sure the bleeding was fully stopped. Then he went back down the stairs. He picked up the shotgun laying where Mario had dropped it.

Surprised by how little he had to fake his feelings, Ben burst through the bedroom door with the weapon aimed. Mario shrank back, surprised by the violence in his eyes.

"They're dead." Ben said grimly. "Armando, Nicole, your partner, they're all dead." So far he hadn't lied. Mario's eyes were wide. He was staring at the shotgun and Ben jammed it towards him. "I should kill you too." If the mobster could have crawled under the bed, he probably would have. Ben almost wanted to shoot him. For hurting Kowalski, for being part of the insanity that could cost Ray his life. Instead he only shook his head at the senselessness and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

He returned to Ray until sirens filled the street and emergency personnel flooded the house. Ben yelled from the upstairs bedroom and was surrounded. Soon there were EMT's moving him out of the way while they examined Ray. Ben went to find the officer in charge. He found Lieutenant Connors directing the downstairs investigation.

"Sir, the man in the bedroom?"

"He's been moved into a squad car." Connors answered, distracted and not looking at the Mountie.

"He needs to be removed from the scene before Detective Vecchio is evacuated."

"Why is that, Constable?"

"It's a federal matter, Sir."

"Look, Constable, I don't have time to worry about you right now. Unless this is a Canadian thing, you should step aside and let me do my job." Connors started to walk away. Ben put his hand on his arm.

"Sir, it is imperative that that man is removed from this location. Detective Vecchio needs immediate emergency care and he can not be moved..." Connors yanked back his arm. He stood close enough to kiss the Mountie when he growled in a low voice.

"I already told you this is my command, you don't get to be involved. You've been screwing up Kowalski for more than a year and I've had it. You're not a cop here, you're a victim, go find someone to give a statement to and stay out of my way." Ben snapped. He grabbed Connors by his lapels and slammed him into the nearest wall.

"You are making a mistake." He said in a low growl.

A moment later, three officers were pulling him back and the situation was spiraling downward.

"You stupid bastard." Connors yelled.

Lieutenant Welsh took that moment to arrive with Detective Regan in tow. Connors was leaning full on into Fraser's face while the Mountie was being handcuffed.

"What is going on here?" Welsh demanded. Before he could get an answer, the EMT's interrupted with their steady descent of the stairs with Vecchio strapped into a litter. They were maneuvering slowly to keep him as flat as possible.

"Sir," Fraser said, anxiously, "there's a man outside under arrest. He should not see..."

"It's all right, Constable." Welsh interrupted. "The federal authorities have taken your suspect into custody. He left the scene a few minutes ago." Fraser sighed, visibly relieved. "Now back to my original question?" Welsh asked Connors pointedly.

An hour later, Welsh had Fraser released from Connors custody and the house was cleared by Federal agents. Detective Regan had given up on his investigation and finally mumbled that he hoped Kowalski would get well soon. Then he sought out Connors and announced he was returning to the station to complete an incomplete report.

Welsh and Fraser gathered in Welsh's car to return to the hospital.

"How is Ray, sir, I mean Detective Kowalski?"

"They released him a couple of hours ago. I had a couple uniforms drive him home."

"Home, Sir?' Welsh turned at surprise in Fraser's voice.

"That a problem?"

"Well, it is the place where he was assaulted. Nothing's been cleaned or tidied." Welsh shook his head feeling like an idiot. He never considered that Kowalski might react badly to his home. He asked if Fraser wanted to go to Ray's apartment and for a moment, the Constable was unsure. Finally, he said,

"No, I need to make certain that Detective Vecchio is well before I visit Detective Kowalski."

"I can go to the apartment." Welsh offered.

"Thank you, Sir and I mean no disrespect but if Ray is having difficulty, he may not wish to share that experience with his superior officer."

"I'm worried about them too, Constable." Welsh said softly, knowing Fraser was right and wishing he could do more.

"Yes, Sir."

Ben and Welsh checked in at the nurse's station and were told that the doctor would see them soon. Both men retired back to the waiting room, feeling like the hospital had become too familiar.

"That was quick thinking back at the house, Constable, telling Mario Profigliani that Langostini was killed." Fraser looked up from the spot on the floor that he realized he had been staring at.

"Thank you, Sir."

"I think we can call this situation contained. Vecchio should be safe in his own life again. I had to call Agent Morris, that was Ray's contact while he was under, after you two disappeared but with Riazzi dead, it should be just a formality."

A few minutes later a tall blond woman wearing a white lab coat and red sneakers approached them. Both men stood and she smiled as she pushed some stray hair behind her ears. The ponytail she wore was loose and tangled. Ben noted that she had the same exhausted look as Kowalski's doctor.

"Constable Fraser and ..." She glanced at her metal clipboard, "Lieutenant Welsh, I'm Doctor Riley. I've been looking after Detective Vecchio. That was a lot of titles, wasn't it?" She commented with a smile.

"How is he?" Welsh asked, impatiently.

"Detective Vecchio will be fine. He was shot in the arm just above the elbow but the bullet passed straight through. He did sustain some minor muscle damage but it should require only limited physical therapy to regain full strength. For insurance purposes let me say that is barring any complications." The last she added with another smile.

"Blood loss?" Ben asked, remembering with a shudder that his clothes were still stained with it.

"That was significant but we've been replacing what he lost and other than causing some general weakness which would be normal anyway, there's no cause for worry. Now, has anyone contacted his family?"

"I'll call his house." Welsh said. "I'm sure the whole clan will be arriving momentarily."

"You may want to tell them to limit the number. Everyone can't go in and there's no point in dragging a lot of people into the rain."

"It's stopped raining." Ben said absently. Dr. Riley nodded at him. She asked if they had any other questions and when they didn't, she returned to her duties. Welsh watched her go, wondering when doctors became twenty somethings. He was interrupted from this thought by Fraser's voice.

"Sir, would it be possible...do you think anyone would mind... I realize I'm not..."

"Go ahead, Constable."

"Thank you, Sir."

Fraser rushed back to see Ray. He knew the doctor would only allow family so he cautiously avoided the nurse's station. He walked through the unit doors confidently as if he belonged. He found Ray near the end of the long corridor. His eyes were closed. His arm was bandaged from elbow to shoulder.

Ben shuddered at the pale form of his friend. The dark shadows beneath his eyes were highlighted by his chalky complexion. It was frightening to think how close this man had come to bleeding to death.

Green eyes fluttered to life slowly as Ben took his hand. Ben smiled, happy to see him waking.

"You're going to be fine, Ray. You're in the hospital and your family will be here soon."

Ray couldn't speak yet but his mind was a jumble of ugly thoughts. Just at the edge of his memory images assailed him. He could see Nicki looking stunned as she keeled over backward with a hole through her skull. Kowalski bandaged and hurting and staring at the ceiling while he talked, looking like a beaten puppy. And seeing Fraser running, pursued by the men who had tortured Kowalski. All of it swept over him, smothering him like plastic against his face. He moaned as small, hot tears dotted the corners of his eyes. He felt Fraser's grip grow firmer, offering the only support he could. Ray hung on to that. He needed the anchor to keep from crying out loud. Slowly, mercifully, he dropped back into a dreamless sleep, unaware of the tears trickling down his cheeks.

Ben remained by his side until the doctor forced him to go. Even then he refused until he saw Ray's mother hovering in the hall. He could relinquish him to her. She would hold his hand. She would make him feel safe.

Welsh met him at the end of the hall. Past him, Fraser could see Lieutenant Connors and Detective Regan speaking to Kowalski's doctor. Following Ben's sight, Welsh sighed when he saw the other two men.

"Don't worry, Constable, they're just checking on Kowalski's condition."

"I wasn't aware they were concerned."

"Kowalski works for Connors. He's just as concerned as I am." Fraser looked away, then down at the floor while he rubbed his eyebrow. "Yeah, I know. I've heard he has it in for Kowalski." Welsh added.

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you know why?"

"No, Sir. But, he has indicated that it may have something to do with me."

"Really. Well that might be worth looking into." Fraser had no response for that. Welsh looked closely at the Mountie. He was more pale than usual with gray marks forming beneath his eyes. "You should go home, Constable. Get some rest. Kowalski and Vecchio will be all right until morning."

"I think I'll go see Detective Kowalski, first. I'm still concerned about him."

"You're exhausted, Constable." Ben shrugged. "And you're injured, " Ben widened his eyes in surprise. "I can see you're in pain." Welsh answered with a dismissing wave of his hand. "You're their primary anchor, Constable. You went through this with them so you're the one they'll want to talk to. I need you at your best for their sakes. So, I'm ordering you to go home, get some sleep and come back tomorrow."

"I'm not certain you can actually..."

"Are you arguing with me, Constable?"

"No, Sir."

"Good, now get out of here."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I will go home after I've seen Detective Kowalski. But, I wouldn't be able to rest until I know he's all right."

Ben drove the consulate car to Ray's apartment. His head was pounding and aches from his battle with Marsden were becoming more difficult to ignore. He managed to keep his pain in check when he needed to, but when he was alone, it was too much effort to pretend he didn't hurt.

He realized Inspector Conrad must have received his note by now and was probably worried about the car but he wasn't feeling strong enough for a lecture and a threat of disciplinary action.

He stayed in the car an extra moment, garnering his reserves and then headed up the stairs to Kowalski's apartment. He knocked lightly on the door, feeling strangely eerie since he had done the same thing earlier that morning. There was no answer this time but the door was locked. He knocked again. This time he heard some movement behind the door. He knew Ray was checking through the peephole. The door opened a moment later.

"Hey, Frase." Ray said, walking away from the door without looking at him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good, I'm good." His partner answered as he flopped on the couch. Ben noticed both pillows were stacked in the corner of the sofa and the knitted afghan was crumpled on the floor. The discarded sling lay on the coffee table and the television was playing some sort of documentary. In fact, the show appeared to be concerning the mating habits of ants. The livingroom lamp gave the room a soft yellow glow. Ray picked up the remote and flipped off the set.

"You, uh, disappeared from the hospital." Ray said, still not looking at him.

"It's over now, Ray. We've apprehended the people who...assaulted you." That brought his attention back. He shifted, then groaned with the motion before finally settling on Ben's face.

"You an' Vecchio?" Fraser nodded. "How're the Feds gonna handle the prosecution without giving away Vecchio's cover?"

"It's been taken care of."

"Yeah, but..."

"They're dead, Ray. Nicole Riazzi and Lonnie Marsden are dead. The third man, Mario Profigliani has been put in Federal custody." For a moment Ray considered this information, then softly he said,

"I got the feelin' Vecchio kinduh liked that kid."

"Yes, I believe he did."

Ray did not know how to respond after that. He couldn't be sorry that they were dead. He could still see them gathered around his bed, hurting him, questioning him. It made him feel sick again. For a few moments he thought he might vomit but the nausea gradually drained away and he was left with a hollow feeling in his stomach.

"You gotta go some place?" Ray asked since the Mountie had begun hovering above him.

"I thought I'd sit with you for awhile if you don't mind. You can sleep, of course. You should sleep. It's getting late."

"Maybe later. Just woke up." Ben nodded as he slipped into the chair across from the couch. Ray didn't like him there because he couldn't see him clearly without his glasses. Normally, that didn't bother him, but today he wished he could see. The sigh that escaped Ben as he settled spoke clearly of his exhaustion so Ray contented himself with knowing that Fraser was nearby.

"Have you had any trouble settling in? Getting your medication? Anything at all?"

"Nah. Pills are in the kitchen. They make me tired and kind uh fuzzy and my hand still hurts anyway, but I figure it'd hurt worse without 'em."

"You wouldn't be more comfortable in bed?"

"No, I wouldn't be." Ray answered, too emphatically.

"Have you gone in to see if there was any damage?"

"Don't do that, Fraser. Do not do that."

"Do what, Ray?"

"Try t'analyze me." Ray was almost yelling now. "I know what yer doin'. Ya think I'm afraid to go in my own bedroom cuz that's where stuff happened, but it ain't true. I'm sackin' out here cuz the TV is here an' the bedroom seemed too far when I came in, okay? I told ya, the pills make me fuzzy."

"That's fine, Ray, wherever you feel comfortable."

"No, not where I feel comfortable, where I am comfortable, okay? I'm comfortable right here on my couch where I sleep about half the time anyway, okay?"

"Certainly, Ray."

Ray wanted to yell again. Rage threatened to take him over. Anger at that strange, attractive young girl who ordered the things they did to him. Anger at Vecchio for, for what? For not seeing her outside the Consulate, for not arresting her a year ago, for not warning him that some psycho babe might come looking? Anger at himself for letting it happen. He saw the shadows, he didn't pull his gun. He walked right into it. Hell, he deserved to get thumped for being that stupid.

The drugs pushed his eyes closed as the ugly thoughts played with him. He leaned back, pulling his injured hand back to his chest. A moment later sleep stole him from the room.

Ben watched him surrender to sleep and sighed. He wanted to sleep as well. He desperately needed to rest his mind and his body. Instead he stood quietly and went into Ray's bedroom. The connecting door was closed.

The harsh odor of vomit greeted him first. He grimaced as he searched out the cause. Once he found the wastebasket he took it into the kitchen, wrapped the plastic container in a plastic bag and took it down to the trash. Returning to the bedroom, he opened the window in order to air out the room. Next, he stripped the sheets off the bed and rolled them into a ball. Feeling the mattress, he found it had dried, so he replaced the bedding. There were traces of bile on the floor. He scrubbed the area with some disinfectant cleaner he found in the bathroom.

Finally, Ben disconnected the stereo. Taking each piece carefully, he returned it to its original home in the living room beneath the wide window.

Still feeling slightly restless he went into the kitchen and put water on to boil. Then he looked in on Ray's turtle. The hard shelled creature had drawn its legs and head inside as if it was hiding. Ben wondered if it felt the tension around him.

He returned to the living room to check on Ray. He was surprised to find the young detective's face tense and hard instead of peaceful. His injured hand twitched slightly and a soft whimper escaped his lips. Ben smoothed the reckless blond hair from his forehead and whispered his name.

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray." He repeated until finally Kowalski's eyes fluttered open.

"Fraser." He said softly, pushing himself up slowly and wincing from pain or effort or both. His eyes were squinted against the soft light from the lamp.

"I'm sorry, Ray. You were having a nightmare."

"Yeah, I guess." Kowalski answered, running a quick hand through his hair. "More like a memory." He shuddered.

He looked at the Mountie closely with a frown.

"You look awful. Are ya sick or somethin'?"

"No, I'm not sick."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Would you care to talk about your dream?" Ray shook his head as he sat up. His hand was throbbing fiercely and a glance at the clock confirmed it was time for another pain pill. "Would you like something to eat then?"

"No, I'm okay, not hungry."

"You'll feel better if you eat, Ray." Ben was already up and going back to the kitchen.

"I've been vomiting off and on for more than a day, Fraser, I don't think my stomach is really up for food, ya know?"

"That's a very good reason to eat, Ray. I can make soup, something light." He said as he turned the heat off from the boiling pot and poured water in a cup. He reached in the cupboard above the stove and retrieved a tea bag. Ray had started keeping tea in the apartment for him.

"I ain't gonna fu...friggin' starve if I miss a meal, Fraser. I don't eat that much anyway 'cept junk, so let's change the subject, okay? How'd you and Vecchio find that Riazzi chick?" Ben switched his mindset to match Ray's as he realized that arguing would accomplish nothing. He returned to the living room with his cup.

"Actually they found us." Ben admitted, then launched into an abbreviated description of the events leading to Vecchio's gunshot wound.

"He gonna be okay?" Ray asked.

"The doctor said he'd be fine. He was shot in the upper quadrant of this right arm. He's being well cared for."

"Who shot him?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? You sure you ain't got a concussion or somethin'?"

"Yes, Ray. Ray, the other Ray, what I mean is, Detective Vecchio and I were separated for a time. I haven't been able to determine the exact sequence of events that lead to the deaths or the wounding of Detective Vecchio."

"Ya know, if you're talkin' to me about him, then when you say Ray, I know which one ya mean. I pretty much know when yer usin' my name fer me and when you're usin' his name fer him. The names are the same, the people, they're not innerinner, ya know ya can't switch us."

"Interchangeable." Ben supplied as he settled back into the chair. The depth of the pain in his skull surprised him. It seemed more manageable only an hour ago.

"Yeah, right."

"Yes I know Ray, you are two complete and separate individuals, however, I find it easier to use your last names when I discuss you. For common speech, it seems more correct."

"Well, I don' know about common speech but it seems like ya can't keep us straight in yer own head."

"I assure you, Ray, that is not the case." What little focus he may have had disappeared with the dizziness and pain. Ben leaned back and closed his eyes.

"You all right, Frase?"

"I'm terribly sorry, Ray, I seem to be experiencing a rather severe headache." Ray sat forward, concern replacing his irritation.

"Yeah, well, ya said they clobbered ya and you took a header through a window, that could give a guy a headache, maybe even a concussion. You get checked out at the hospital?"

"It's not necessary. Sleep is probably the most efficient cure."

"Well, ya can't drive. You still in Conrad's car?"

"That vehicle is the property of the Canadian Government. And yes, I drove it here. I need to return it tonight as I never actually gained permission for its use."

"It'll keep till morning, Fraser."

"I can come back if you'd like, Ray. If you'd rather not be alone."

"It's not me I'm thinkin' about. If you go home, you should stay there. Come back tomorrow." Ben started to argue but Ray interrupted sounding annoyed, "Look, my hand's killin' me. I'm gonna take another pill and hunker down here on the couch. You should take some aspirin or non-aspirin, whatever ya got at home and get some sleep."

"I've taken the liberty of changing the bedding and cleaning up in the bedroom. You should sleep in there, Ray. You'll be more comfortable."

"Don't start, Fraser."

"Start what?"

"That analysis stuff again. I am not afraid of my own bedroom. Which is a good thing cause I gotta go through there t' use the can." Ray stood up too quickly. A sudden burst of dizziness evicted the color from his face leaving a pale, wide-eyed specter to tumble backwards to the couch. Ben jumped up but his own head rebelled and he barely remained on his feet long enough to focus on his friend.

"Ray, are you all right?" The younger detective slammed a weak fist into the cushion beside him.

"Shi...damn...I hate bein' helpless like this. My dad used t'... Oh hell, I might as well be cuffed t'the bed again." The anger in his voice was minor compared to the despair.

Ben sank back into his chair. He put a hand to his forehead trying to collect his thoughts. He hated seeing Ray so miserable and he felt the detective had said something important but he couldn't quite focus on it.

"You know, Ray," Ben began, wondering if he could keep his friend's attention for this story and wondering if he could stay focused enough to arrive at the point, " when I was a boy and first went to live with my grandparents, I discovered that, well that my previous life was truly in the past. Being very young at the time, I couldn't put that into words but I had an overwhelming sense of dependency on them. You see my mother was quite open to allowing me to...find my own answers, make my own discoveries. I don't mean to say she didn't watch out for me because she was always near by. She was always aware of my location. But she gave me great freedom to learn about our world. My grandparents were not as apt to allow a six year old boy to wander freely. They were quite strict and had a great many rules to follow. I was expected to complete chores, study, read, assist with all aspects of their lives. Playing was not a regular option. I don't mean to say I was not allowed to play or interact with other children, but it was not the same freedom I had with my mother."

"Look, Fraser, I don't mean to be insensitive here, but what's yer point."

"The point is, Ray, that it was an utter loss of control over my own destiny. I couldn't fight back because I was dependent on them for everything, from sustenance to affection. I had to adapt to their ways in order to survive. I remember feeling very lost and abandoned and very helpless."

"And that's why ya need t'control everything?" Ben smiled at his friend's comment. From anyone else it would sound like an insult. From Ray, it was an observation.

"I suppose so." Ben admitted. "But, there was also comfort in their rules. I knew that once I completed whatever tasks they had planned for me, I would receive the things I needed. Hot food, a warm bed, safety. It was when I realized that I had the choice of finishing my chores and receiving these things or not doing what was expected and receiving punishment instead, that I regained a sense of control. I was not helpless. I could make choices."

"Yer sayin' I wasn't helpless before. I still had a mind an' I still made decisions."

"Yes."

"They coulduh killed me, Fraser. They coulduh done anything. She made a real point to tell me that. I couldn't 've stopped 'em. I didn't have any choice about that."

"You could have told them everything about Detective Vecchio, Ray. And they may have killed you anyway. You chose not to. You chose to live or die by your own terms."

Ray closed his eyes. He wasn't sure he followed Fraser's logic but something in the words made him feel less frustrated. His bladder was still full and his hand still hurt. He stood up slowly this time. Not daring to turn his head for fear the dizziness would return, he maintained a forward trajectory.

"I'll go then, Ray. I'll call from the Consulate. If you'd rather I return, I will."

"I'll be fine, Fraser. I'm not a little kid."

Ben sighed. He pushed himself out of the chair, closed his eyes while the pain pounding through his temples receded to a manageable level, then made his way to the kitchen. He found Ray's prescription, read the bottle and shook out two pills. A single glass sat in the dish drainer. He filled it with water and returned to the livingroom.

He looked towards the bedroom where Ray had disappeared. Leaving him alone felt wrong. But, hovering and treating him like a child was not the answer. When or if Ray needed his help, he would ask for it. Ben left the apartment almost wishing he did not have the car. A walk in the cool air would help clear his head and probably cure his headache. But of course, if he didn't have the car, he would still be in Ray's apartment and that type of circular logic would not help.

Ray entered his bedroom, determined not to remember the hands reaching out to pull him down. The room was cold but the air smelled fresh from the rain. This was a big improvement from when he arrived home from the hospital. The odor had been overpowering and caused another bout with vomiting. His stomach muscles hurt from the number of times he had heaved that day.

He took a quick glance at his bed, closed his eyes against those memories as well and retreated into the bathroom. Trembling slightly he turned towards the mirror. The face staring back at him looked strange. Pale skin, glazed blood-shot eyes, hair laying flat to his skull, he frowned and shook his head.

Shit.

Ray wrapped his arms around his waist as he shook harder. Sinking slowly to the floor, he leaned back against the bathtub. Eyes squeezed tight, he rocked silently against the cool porcelain.

The next morning Lieutenant Welsh stared at the files on his desk, not seeing them and not caring about them. The usual pandemonium shook the bullpen in the main office. Detectives Huey and Dewey had brought in several members of a local street gang. Unfortunately, several members of a rival street gang were there as well. All of the officers were busy trying to maintain order while the 20 or so youths fought and bickered and threatened each other as well as the police.

Catching sight of red, the lieutenant wondered briefly why the Mountie would be at the station. Looking closer, he discovered Francesca Vecchio dressed in a bright red dress and heels. She was busy dodging the various minor rumbles erupting around her while she tried to exit the whole affair. Welsh assumed she was going to the hospital to check on her brother. He could have told her that Ray Vecchio was being moved into a private room and would most likely be released the next day but he knew families needed to see each other to confirm that sort of information.

Welsh opened a file absently, keeping most of his attention on the barely controlled chaos outside his door. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He went to his door, bellowed for Huey and waited for the detective to work his way to him.

"Can I have some assurance that this insanity is nearly at its conclusion, Detective?"

"Oh, yes, Sir." Huey answered, glancing around the room. "We're nearly ready to release the first group. Then, we'll give it about half an hour and release the second batch."

"And why do we have them here if we're releasing all of them?" Welsh asked, sounding patient. Huey was not fooled.

"Well, Sir, the commissioner asked that we show a greater presence with the gangs cropping up around the neighborhood recently. So, Detective Dewey thought arresting a few of the more vocal members would accomplish that. Unfortunately, Detectives Brown and Weaver had the same thought so, well, as you can see..."

"It didn't work out too well."

"No, Sir."

"Get 'em outta here."

"Yes, Sir."

The lieutenant returned to his office, easing his large body into his chair. He tried to review the previous day but there were too many things to think about. Closing the file, he leaned back and watched Huey and Dewey lead five young men towards the exit. His phone startled him slightly.

"Welsh." He barked.

"Lieutenant, this is Detective Regan."

"Yes, Detective." Welsh said, tiredly. He thought this kid had given up on the Kowalski affair.

"I think you may have a problem, Sir."

"What sort of problem?"

"Nicole Riazzi had a fiance, Sir. She was in town with him." Welsh sat up stiffly.

"What are you getting at?"

"Look, Sir, I am a cop. A Chicago cop. I'd have to live under a rock not to know that Vecchio did a big job for the Feds. And Kowalski, well, there's more than a year missing out of his file too. Now I may not have all the details but I was there when they took Riazzi and Marsden out of the house. And I am a detective, Lieutenant."

"What are you trying to tell me, Regan?"

"That I did some investigating. Some research. And I know that Kowalski was tortured for information about Vecchio. I know Nicole Riazzi ordered it."

Welsh stayed quiet. He didn't know Regan and didn't dare trust him.

"Riazzi's fiance isn't buying the Fed's story. He doesn't believe Langostini would turn on her."

"We both know that's what happened, Detective. Armando Langostini wanted to remain hidden. He killed Riazzi and Marsden to maintain his anonymity and was inadvertently killed as well."

"That doesn't explain Vecchio or Kowalski, or the Mountie for that matter."

"Riazzi spotted Vecchio with Kowalski and thought it was Langostini because of their resemblance. Kowalski just got caught in the crossfire. Basically the same thing happened to Vecchio and Fraser. No one expected the real Langostini to show up but he did. We figure he was watching Riazzi and that's how he knew what was happening."

"All right, Lieutenant. That's the story you want to stick to, that's fine. It'll hold up. Even Profigliani seems to believe it. But your problem is the fiance. He doesn't believe it and he's looking for someone to tell him the truth. If I had to guess, I'd say he'll start where she left off."

"You're saying he's after Kowalski."

"I'm saying it's likely."

"How do you know all this, Regan?"

"I'd like to tell you I have incredible sources, but the truth is, Riazzi's fiance showed up here last night breathing fire. He made it real clear he didn't believe anything he'd been told. He's a wiseguy, Lieutenant, he's not going to let it go."

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"No, just wanted to give you 'a heads up'."

"I appreciate that, Detective."

"Ya know, Kowalski's okay. He's a stand-up guy over here. I tried to tell Connors all this but he said I was overreacting. Said I shouldn't bother anybody with it. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Your lieutenant has no need to know of this conversation."

Welsh hung up. Flipping open his rolodex he dialed the number of Vecchio's federal contact. The phone was picked up on the second ring.

"What do you know about Nicole Riazzi's fiance?"

"His name is Micheal Cavallaro." Agent Morris answered, "He's a low level wiseguy. Started with the Iguana family. He's hoping to jump higher in rank since so many of the big guys are in prison or heading that way."

"Are you planning to pull him in?" Welsh asked.

"There's no reason, Lieutenant. We have nothing to arrest him for."

"He doesn't believe the Langostini story."

"That's not a crime. And I don't believe it's accurate either. He's just grieving, Lieutenant. He's in denial. Everyone else is confident that Armando Langostini died yesterday after murdering Riazzi and Marsden. By tomorrow, we'll announce who's bullet killed him and that will put the matter to rest."

"My men are at risk."

"That's not likely, Lieutenant. Mickey Cavallaro has done a lot of tough guy jobs for the Iguanas but to our knowledge he's never killed anyone and he's never acted alone. Frankly, Nicole was a much greater threat."

"You're making an assumption. This guy needs to be off the streets while he calms down." Welsh demanded.

"We can not randomly arrest people because you think they might do something. You know that, Lieutenant. If it'll make you feel better I'll send a man over to the hospital to watch Vecchio."

"It's not him I'm worried about."

"You mean Kowalski? Why would he bother with him?"

"Because he wants the truth about his fiancee and Kowalski's the only lead he's likely to have. I shouldn't have to tell you this, Morris."

"Kowalski's not my problem. If I remember correctly, he's not yours either. It's a long shot at best that Cavallaro'd bother him anyway."

"Agent Morris, you would think after more than twenty years on the force, I would know better than to expect anything from the FBI." Welsh slammed down the phone. Running one hand through his dark hair, he went through his door and yelled for Huey. The tall, black detective leaned over from behind a file cabinet. The room had mostly been cleared of the various gang members. "Take Dewey, get over to Kowalski's apartment and stay there until further notice."

"Sir?"

"Just do it. I have reason to believe his life is in danger."

Welsh returned to his office, flipped a few more cards on his rolodex and came up with Kowalski's home phone. Four rings and the answering machine picked up. Welsh left a brief message but he had a bad feeling. He hung up and the phone rang immediately.

"Lieutenant, its Francesca. Ray is missing from the hospital."

Ben arrived back at the Consulate surprised to find Inspector Conrad still there. Dressed in a black tuxedo and ivory shirt, he regarded his Constable carefully. Fraser regarded him as well sensing he forgot something important. In the next instant he remembered a reception being held by a small charity group for the benefit of endangered wildlife. Inspector Conrad planned to attend. Conrad planned to have Fraser drive him as penance for taking the car without leave but one look at the pale skin and near-bruises around the younger man's eyes made him abandon that idea.

"Turnbull took Diefenbaker home with him." The Inspector said, "He thought you might be too busy to care for him this evening."

"That was kind of him, Sir."

"Go to sleep, Constable. That's an order. We'll discuss your actions tomorrow."

Fraser knew better than to argue with leniency even if it was temporary.

"Thank you, Sir. Enjoy your evening."

Ben retreated to his office/home. He changed out of his street clothes, grimacing at the stiff patch where Ray Vecchio's blood had dried. Changing into a clean t-shirt and underwear, he phoned the hospital and was connected to Ray's mother.

"How is Ray feeling, Mrs. Vecchio?" Ben asked.

"He's much better, caro. A bit groggy from the medicines but he's to be moved into his own room in the morning." She didn't mention that he seemed sad.

"Please give him my regards. I'll be there to see him tomorrow."

"Of course. He was concerned about you."

"Please assure him that I'm fine and I expect to be at the Consulate through the night if he or you need anything."

"Thank you, Benton. You're a good friend."

He hung up and dialed Ray Kowalski.

"What!" Kowalski answered.

"Ray, it's me. I just wanted to see how you're doing?"

"I'm fine, Fraser. You gotta cut this Mother Goose act." His voice sounded hoarse and tense and irritated. Ben wished he hadn't left him alone.

"You mean Mother Hen?" He asked, hearing the stupidity in the words as soon as he said them.

"Is it necessary t'correct me all the time? You know what I meant."

"Sorry, Ray." A long pause followed. If Ben couldn't hear him breathing, he would have thought that Ray hung up.

"No, I'm sorry. I feel lousy, Fraser. I get mean when I feel lousy."

"It's understandable, Ray."

"Yeah, it probably is, but it ain't right. Look, you should get some sleep. Do somethin' about that headache. I'm gonna sleep too an' we'll both feel better in the morning, okay?"

"That sounds like a good idea, Ray. I'll stop by in the morning on my way to the hospital."

"How's Vecchio doin'?"

"His mother tells me he's better."

"Good, I'm glad t' hear it. All right, I'll see ya in the morning."

"Good night, Ray."

Ben hung up and sighed. Kowalski sounded strained but groggy too. The pain medication was probably affecting his voice. His own head had resumed its thudding so he lied down on his narrow cot and closed his eyes. Slowly he began to picture the land surrounding his father's cabin. He could see the mountains of snow, the sleek sparkling film of ice, the scattered trees bare of leaves. He let his mind scan the familiar landscape, drinking in the serenity. The process took longer than usual but eventually his mind and body relaxed. The headache receded enough to allow some peace until finally sleep came like a blessing.

His internal alarm sounded promptly at five in the morning. Fraser rubbed a thick hand through his tousled curls. He opened his eyes slowly waiting for the assault of light to thrust him back inside the intolerable headache. Instead he felt slightly groggy but no pain. He sighed, closed his eyes again for a moment, then rose.

Feet planted firmly on the floor and he was off to the shower. He hadn't showered or shaved the day before and the hot water felt like paradise. Once he was clean and all hint of stubble had been scraped away, he headed back to his office. He had the evening shift so he dressed casually in jeans, ivory henley and blue flannel shirt.

His stomach raged at him for not eating the day before so his next stop was the kitchen. He took oatmeal from the cupboard and apples from the refrigerator. He made a fresh pot of coffee and went back to his office to retrieve the paperwork on a lost passport. He returned to the kitchen and reviewed the file while he ate.

After breakfast, he washed the dishes and returned to his office where he could work for an hour before leaving for the hospital. He figured he owed the RCMP some of his free time after abandoning all duty the day before. And using the Consulate car for personal business as well.

He managed to get a few details cleared up before he knew he needed to leave. Just as he reached for his leather jacket, the phone rang. Fraser fought the urge to ignore it and lifted the receiver.

"Constable, we have a problem." Ben froze at the lieutenant's words, "Vecchio is missing from the hospital and Kowalski is not at his apartment. They're not with you, I assume?"

"No, Sir." Ben slumped slowly into his chair, all breath seeming to leave his body.

"I got a call from Detective Regan this morning." Welsh proceeded to describe the call and its implications. He also reviewed his conversation with Agent Morris.

"Do we have any idea where Cavallaro might be staying or what sort of business he and Ms. Riazzi were involved in?"

"We're working on it. We're also checking through some of the Iguana's property holdings to see if there's anything in Chicago. Some place Cavallaro might use. The Feds have decided they may have made a mistake so they're looking too."

"I'll get Diefenbaker and go to Ray's apartment. He may be able to pick up something. From there, we can go to the hospital."

The two men agreed that Fraser would call periodically so they could keep in contact.

"Hang in there, Constable, we'll find them." Welsh said.

Ben hung up the phone. He fought off the pictures in his mind and berated himself for leaving either one of them. He should have stayed at Kowalski's apartment. Or he should have stayed at the hospital. He should have anticipated something like this.

He looked at his watch. Constable Turnbull would arrive in twenty minutes. If he left to go to his apartment, they would miss each other in transit. He had to wait.

Kowalski moaned and rolled on to his back. He had been dumped into this room and landed on his broken hand. When he woke, the fingers were screaming in protest. His head felt bloated and heavy. His limbs felt thick. He tried to remember what happened. The first thing in his mind was sitting on the bathroom floor, cradling his hand and crying like a baby. He hated crying. But, he couldn't seem to stop himself. He remembered sobbing until his throat was scratched and his shirt was wet.

Alone in the apartment he had risen unsteadily to his feet. He remembered he had to urinate. That was the reason he came to the bathroom. He took care of business and half stumbled back to the couch. Sitting on the table were two pills and water. He thanked Fraser internally. The ruptured eardrum played havoc with his balance, he was weak from vomiting and not eating, he was drained from the emotional meltdown. Seeing his medication prepared and waiting for him almost sent him spiraling into another crying fit of gratitude and sentiment.

He sat on the couch, took the pills and lied down. Ray welcomed the sleep as it took him. And the phone rang. Irritated at being woken and wishing the pain pills actually stopped the pain in his hand, he picked up the receiver.

"What!" He barked into the phone.

Fraser calling. Fraser checking in and checking on him. Ray remembered being rude and then half-heartedly apologizing. Still, they seemed okay when he hung up. He lied back down and closed his eyes.

When he woke, he was here. Wherever here was.

His hand continued throbbing as he pushed himself to sitting. Dizziness kept him slumped to one side before he finally gained enough balance to right himself. Here appeared to be a bedroom. Plush gray carpet beneath him, a large double or queen size bed in front of him, a wood dresser to one side and a vanity of some sort to lean against. The door to the room was painted the same pale blue as the walls. A brass doorknob seemed to be the only way it distinguished itself.

Rolling on to his knees, he waited for the room to settle in one place, then rose to his feet. He waited again, hoping all of the spinning was due to his ear imbalance and nothing more critical. His mouth felt dry and his throat felt raw which gave him the impression that he might have been drugged. He didn't like thinking that so he dismissed it and glanced around for a window. There was none. With no windows, the room felt less like a bedroom and more like a prison, despite the furnishings.

Knowing the door would be locked but needing to check it anyway, Ray walked slowly towards it, deciding he must have been drugged because his legs were shaking. He turned the handle and... it turned? He pushed the door open thinking how stupid he would have felt when Fraser rescued him from an unlocked room.

The door opened outward, then bumped into the back of ...well, Paul Bunyon, apparently. A dark haired, dark eyed giant wearing red flannel and blue jeans turned around to look at him. Ray had to crook his neck to look back. The man laid one large hand on his chest, shook his head "no" and nudged Kowalski back inside the room. The door shut in his face.

Ray stared at the closed door for several seconds. Even on a good day, there was no possibility of bringing down the giant. He had no gun, no axe and no slingshot. He scratched his head and was about to knock on the door and demand attention when he was distracted by a noise coming from behind him. He jerked around wondering if Paul's pet ox might be standing there. Instead, he found the bed. And it was occupied. Man, I have got to work on my observation skills.

The bright purple covers shifted. A bandaged arm poked out bringing a moan with it. Then a head popped up. A head with thinning black hair and a prominent nose. The eyes stayed closed as the thin body pushed itself into a sitting position and leaned against the dark wood headboard. Ray planted himself at the foot of the bed and waited for Vecchio to open his eyes. The movement was slow and it took another moment for recognition to set in.

"Kowalski?"

"'Fraid so."

"Is Fraser here?"

"I don't think so. I hope not."

"You look like hell."

"You too."

"Wasn't I at the hospital?"

"And I was at home."

"You don't know what happened?"

"Remember fallin' asleep on the couch. That's it. What about you?"

"I think my Ma was with me. I was pretty out of it. You don't think she was there when whatever happened, happened, do ya?"

"I don't know what happened so it's hard t'say. But, I doubt it. We been kidnapped, they're not gonna want witnesses 'er a lotta loose ends, ya know?"

"You try the door?" Vecchio asked.

"Yep."

"Locked?"

"Nope."

"What's out there?"

"Paul Bunyon."

"What?"

"Big guy, brown hair, flannel shirt."

"Fraser?"

"Bigger 'n that."

"What'd he say?"

"Surprisingly not talkative."

"You got any ideas."

"Well, let's see, we have no windows, a door with a giant lumberjack, a hand full uh broken fingers," he pointed to himself, "a gunshot wound," he pointed at Vecchio, "an' no weapons. I'm thinkin', let's wait an' see what's goin' on."

"Actually, smart ass, I was asking if you know what this is about."

"Nope. Current events is most likely."

Vecchio's face shadowed on itself. He twisted his bandaged arm to examine it. Finding no blood, he leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

"She's dead." He said, finally.

"Yeah, I know. Fraser told me."

"Then it can't be her."

"She got any friends?"

Vecchio didn't have the chance to answer as Paul Bunyon entered the room. He held a large, long barreled gun. He wasn't aiming, just holding it by his side. A tall and slender Italian with green eyes followed him. He did not look like Vecchio's twin but they could be cousins, maybe brothers.

Vecchio untangled himself from the bedding and swung his legs over the side. He was trying to look tough which isn't easy in a hospital gown and bare feet. Kowalski stood up, feeling slightly protective of his fellow inmate. No matter how lousy he felt, he wasn't stolen out of a hospital.

Paul Bunyon's friend dressed well in a gray silk suit, white linen shirt and gray tie with red flecks. While Bunyon stayed near the door, he approached the bed looking serious. His hair was thicker than Vecchio's but the signs of similar balding were already starting to appear. He was younger too, probably in his mid-twenties. There was something in the man's face that gave Kowalski pause. His eyes hinted at some sort of pain and a lot of anger. His complexion was pale. He looked like Vecchio after a bad night.

"So, what's the deal?" Kowalski asked, deliberately keeping himself between the lookalike and the original. He didn't like the look of this guy and he didn't like the heavy bulge in his pocket where a gun was obviously hidden.

"That was yer free question, Kowalski. I'll answer it an' then you answer me. Both uh you answer me." He glared at Vecchio. Whatever had this guy angry, it was directed him. "My name's Mickey Cavallaro an' I wanna know what happened t' Nicole."

"Why?" Kowalski asked, knowing he was being sarcastic.

"Nicole didn't teach you much, did she?"

"Just that she's a fuckin' nutcase."

Cavallaro swung around in a rage, his fist coming up, but Kowalski was a boxer and he avoided the blow easily. He didn't see Paul Bunyon move. A moment later his broken fingers were crushed in the man's grip, he was blinking back tears and kneeling and trying to remember if that awful noise came from him or a seriously hurt parrot. His hand was shoved back at him and lights played at the sides of his vision.

Vecchio watched the scene unfold fighting every instinct he had. His time undercover taught him an important lesson. He knew not to show weakness. And showing that he cared what happened to Kowalski was like painting a bull's eye on both of their chests. He stayed still, watching, waiting and deliberately keeping his hands from curling into fists.

Kowalski took a vicious kick to his ribcage that flipped him on to his side. He curled up trying to protect himself and holding his breath to keep from moaning.

Paul Bunyon stepped back towards the door. He hadn't spoken a word or broken a sweat. He had barely moved.

"All right, now unless ya wanna join yer buddy on the floor there, ya better tell me what happened."

"What happened when, Mikey?" Ray asked, deliberately pronouncing his name wrong. "This guy ain't my buddy. Ask anybody. We don't even like each other. So, what's the story? You kidnapped two cops here. That's not smart."

"No, yer not bein' smart. You think I care yer cops? You think I don't know exactly the trouble I bought? I don't care. I don't care." The problem, Vecchio thought, was that he seemed to mean it. Cavallaro was beyond caring about consequences.

"Why d'ya look like Langostini?" Cavallaro asked.

"Genetics." Ray answered.

"You're playin' a dangerous game."

"Why don't we cut the games then. What do you want?"

"I wanna know who killed Nicole. I wanna know why she kissed me good-bye an' made a reservation for dinner an' died." Cavallaro's voice cracked and he turned away.

Ray took a step forward automatically, almost reaching out to comfort him. He stopped himself in mid-stride, remembering where he was.

Cavallaro's question was a problem. Vecchio had been mostly unconscious since he was shot. He had no idea what story the Feds might have concocted and admitting he shot Nicole seemed like a bad idea.

"I was shot. I don't know all the answers."

Kowalski was busy pushing himself up to lean with his back to the bed. His splinted fingers hung useless against his thigh.

"Why d'ya kill Nicole?"

"What makes you think I did it?"

"I know you did. She idolized Langostini. Everything she ever said about him, everything I ever heard about him says he cared about her. He wouldn't kill her."

"Look, Lonnie shot me."

"Just tell me why you killed her." Desperation fringed Cavallaro's words.

"Who are you to her?" Vecchio asked, seriously.

"You don't get it, do you? Tell me why an' ya get to go home. Keep avoidin' the question an' I'll let Paul have you. He likes his work, Detective."

Vecchio thought it was extremely unlikely that Cavallaro would let them live if he knew the truth. It was fairly unlikely he planned to let them live no matter what.

"You loved her." Vecchio said, trying to buy time.

"We were getting married next month." Cavallaro admitted.

Vecchio fought his reaction. But knowing Nicki had found someone, was apparently in love, was starting a new life, brought down a nearly unbearable sadness.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, meaning it.

Cavallaro didn't turn around. He looked at Paul Bunyon. The big man glided forward a step and a half and lifted Kowalski off the floor by his t-shirt. Ray batted at the big man's arms with his right hand. Finally, when they were face to face and Kowalski's feet were a couple of inches off the floor, he muttered, "You're really Paul Bunyon?" Then Paul twisted him around like he was luggage and had one arm around his throat and the other twisting his good arm behind his back. It took less than a second. Feet just scraping the floor and his breath shortened, Kowalski hung from the other man's frame like a marionette. His eyes flickering with panic, he stared at Vecchio willing him to do something.

"Wait." Vecchio said, holding both hands up, surprising calm in his voice. "Everybody just slow down. Kowalski wasn't at the house. He doesn't know anything."

"No, he wasn't, but you were. And friends or not, I'd be willing to bet you don't want me to kill 'im." Cavallaro turned around and stepped backward. He could watch Vecchio on one side and Kowalski on the other.

"You're right." Vecchio answered, still maintaining his calm. Kowalski had to admit, the man was standing there in a hospital gown, the back flapping around behind him and he still had a strong presence. "I don't want anybody to die here."

"Why did you kill her?"

"Langostini killed her. It was self defense."

"You're a liar. I know all about you."

"Fine. You tell me then. You got all the answers." Vecchio's voice mixed irritation and anger.

Cavallaro stepped to within an inch of Vecchio's face. His lips were pulled back in a snarl.

"You made her think you were Langostini. And then you killed her." Kowalski held what little breath he could get and Vecchio...laughed. He took a step back, shook his head at the floor and laughed. When he looked up again, his eyes were shining.

"That's grief talkin', man. That ain't the truth. I'm a cop. I don't assassinate people."

"You murdered her."

"You wanna know what happened, Mikey, what really happened? You tell your buddy to put him down. You find me some real clothes cause I'm catchin' a draft here. And you come back ready to listen. You do all that an' I'll tell you everything I know."

"You got nothin' to bargain with." Cavallaro said.

"I got the information you want."

"How 'bout if I just beat the shit out uh both of ya till ya do tell me?"

"That's an option." Ray said, his expression betraying none of the dread he felt. "But, I'm volunteering here so why go to the trouble?"

Mickey Cavallaro studied the man in front of him. He saw through the detective's bravado but was impressed that he could maintain it. He missed Nicole so much. He just wanted to understand why she was dead and this man could tell him. He sighed. With another sigh, he turned back to Paul.

"Put 'im on the bed."

Taking a short nosed weapon from inside his jacket, Cavallaro shoved Ray back against the wall and put the gun against his throat. Vecchio banged his wounded arm and gasped.

Paul threw Kowalski on the bed. The slender detective started swinging at him despite sputtering for breath but the larger man soon had his hands pinned above his head and was snapping handcuffs on his already injured wrists. Kowalski spat obscenities at him even as his vision fogged over with dizziness. He didn't hear them leave over the rushing noise in his head but a moment later, Vecchio was sitting beside him.

"Jeez, Kowalski, are you a masochist or what?" Ray didn't have an answer for that at the moment. "You all right?"

"Other than a serious case of dayja, uh, deja, ya know, been here before, ya mean?"

"Yeah, other than that." Ray didn't have an answer for that either.

Both men considered each other. Vecchio looked too pale. He kept his injured arm cradled close to his body. His eyes were too bright. Kowalski shared his bleached complexion though his natural color lended a gray tint. With his arms trapped above his head, he squirmed nervously with the rest of his body.

"What're you doin', Vecchio? It's me yer playin' with here." Kowalski tested the handcuffs and wished he didn't. He held his breath and closed his eyes. Damn blown eardrum was still messing with his balance.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

"It's a little late for that." He responded dismally.

"I'll him the truth. Start to finish from when they took Fraser an' me from the hospital."

"Then he'll kill us."

"Maybe not. He just wants information. He's not gonna want the trouble of two dead cops, especially in Chicago."

"We've seen him, Vecchio. We know who he is. He can't just waltz around town an' leave us hangin' around."

"Most of the Iguana family that didn't get busted, left the country. As long as he doesn't kill us, he can blow the states pretty clear. Besides, it'd take him five minutes to put together an alibi. You're stoned on painkillers, I got taken outta the hospital, it'll be easy to make it look like we didn't see what we saw. He doesn't have to kill us, so he might not."

Kowalski considered Vecchio's opinion. When it came to mob thinking, Vecchio was the expert between the two of them.

"Did you kill her?" He whispered.

"Langostini killed her." Vecchio answered, his eyes losing some of their shine.

"Yeah, but..."

"No you listen. You say nothing when they come back. You weren't there so you can't confirm or deny anything. You don't mention Fraser."

"I wouldn't..."

"You don't tell 'em anything. You hear me?"

"Yeah, all right, all right. But, I'm the one tied t'the bed here. I'm gonna be yer human lie detector so ya better be damn convincing."

"Don't worry."

Kowalski sighed. Don't worry? Sure, no problem.

"So, uh, ya think that guy's name is really Paul Bunyon?"

"No I think his name is Paul Patrino." Vecchio answered as if Kowalski was mentally deficient. "He was muscle for the Iguanas. Used to collect protection money out in LA. I've seen pictures of him."

Kowalski shifted, bringing his wrists hard into the metal surrounding them. He sucked air through his teeth and cursed. Vecchio knelt over him carefully to check his arms for bleeding. He momentarily forgot his less than demure clothing.

"Oh, this is a nice view." Kowalski complained. Vecchio sat back, embarrassed.

"Sorry." He mumbled. Then he stood up and walked to the other side of the bed. He took hold of one of the pillows and stripped off the pillowcase. He shredded it on the seams using his teeth and one hand. Being more cautious of his dignity this time he leaned up and tucked the cloth around the inside of the handcuffs.

"That better?" He asked, while he tested the strength of the wooden slat the restraints were hinged on.

"Yeah, it is."

"I'd need a saw and an hour to get this thing undone." He announced, sitting back again.

"S'okay." Kowalski said, "They'd just do it again when they came back and I'd be duty bound to fight 'em and..."

"Duty bound? You have been hangin' with Fraser too much."

"You think I didn't feel a sense uh duty before Fraser?" Kowalski asked, more curious than angry.

"Nope. Don't think you knew the words for it."

"Hey!"

"Relax, Stanley, I'm just kidding."

"Ya might wanna harass me when I'm not so tied up, ya know? This is seriously scary shit." Kowalski hadn't meant to say all that. He didn't really want Vecchio to know that he was screaming inside. Vecchio looked at him, his smile replaced with understanding.

"Yer right. I'm sorry. I really won't let anything happen."

"Ya really aren't in a position t'stop it."

"Have a little faith, Kowalski. Fraser'd never forgive me if I let anything happen to you."

Kowalski growled from the back of his throat and looked towards the door. He yanked on his arms angrily then yelped when the metal bit back into his wrists. Vecchio started to tell him to settle down when the door opened and Paul (Bunyon) Patrino stepped through. He tossed some clothes on the bed silently. Vecchio had this sudden image of Patrino talking and sounding like a squeaky mouse. He laughed to himself as he retrieved the clothing.

As he slipped the blue jeans on under the hospital gown, he glanced back at Kowalski. The blond detective had his eyes closed tight. His narrow chest moved up and down in harsh gasps. Vecchio pulled the gown over his head, wincing a little when he twisted his arm, then pulled on a loose gray t-shirt.

"Hey, you all right?" Vecchio asked as he settled back on the bed. Kowalski didn't answer or open his eyes. They weren't friends and he couldn't touch him and Vecchio was at a loss. "Ya know, I don't know any Inuit stories." Kowalski's eyes snapped open.

"What?"

"If Fraser was here, he'd tell you some Inuit story to make you feel better, but I don't know any and I don't know you so I have no idea what to say to settle ya down. I've already told you I have this thing figured out and it's gonna be all right, so just relax." Despite trying to be patient, the strain showed in his voice.

"Ordering me to be calm should help a lot, Vecchio."

"Then tell me what you want." He answered, frustrated.

"You can't do nothin'. An' why you wanna try is beyond me. It's not like we're friends or anything. If yer feelin' guilty about that business with Nicole, then give it a rest all right?"

"Jeez, Kowalski, I am trying to help."

"Why? You don't like me. I sure ain't wild about you. What's done is done, ya know?"

"I am gonna..."

"save the day, yeah I know. Before or after I get crippled fer life? Ya know, Fraser said I had control with her an' Marsden an' that other fuck, but I don't see it. What I see is I'm chained up again but instead uh me answerin' questions, you have to. An' me? I get to wait an' see what Nicole's boyfriend thinks'll work t'get your story outta you. I am not in a good position here, Vecchio."

"I already told ya, I'm not hiding anything. I'm gonna give him a play by play. He won't have any reason to do anything."

"Unless he doesn't believe you or he don't like yer story."

"Then he'll kill us. Are you always this negative?"

"That's comforting." Kowalski spat, sarcastically.

"You like the alternative?"

"I want outta here, Vecchio! I can't go through this again. You understand? I can't do it." Kowalski's voice was loud and uneven.

"Quiet." Vecchio hissed. "These guys are wolves, man. We're the caribou, all right? You show any weakness and you'll get eaten for sure. So, shut up and do something to settle down. Do math in your head, picture a place where you feel safe, count sheep for all I care, but you do not show them you're scared."

Kowalski didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He chose sarcasm.

"You learn all that sensitivity training in mob school?"

"Yeah, an' I learned when t'cut my losses too, you stupid fuck."

Kowalski's breath caught deep in his chest. Ray moved off the bed. He watched the door with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

The bedroom door opened allowing Cavallaro and his giant to enter. The tension in the small room grew immeasurably. Kowalski slipped into his tough guy exterior. He knew he could hide his fear. Hiding insecurities was a lifetime occupation.

Vecchio didn't look at him. He stood up with authority. Dressed in street clothes, even in someone else's, gave him more edge.

"I'm listening." Cavallaro said. Patrino stood near the bed with a narrow, rectangular box. He squeezed one of the edges and a thin line of current filled the business end. Kowalski jerked away instinctively.

"Just settle down." Vecchio said, sounding annoyed. "There's no need for any of that."

"You worry about me." Cavallaro said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm gonna tell you what happened, what I remember, but it isn't gonna be easy to hear."

"Just get on with it, Vecchio." Patrino flashed the taser again.

"I got a call yesterday, early in the morning, sayin' that Kowalski was hurt. They wouldn't normally find me because uh him, but it had to do with Armando Langostini. Given our similar looks and some stuff Kowalski said, they figured they better bring me in. I was driving back from Peoria at the time..." Vecchio maintained a careful monotone while he described the kidnapping outside of the hospital. He didn't mention Fraser though he was sure Cavallaro must know about him. He stayed carefully with the truth up until he reached the part where he was alone with Nicole in the loft.

"I was distracted by the breaking glass. Then Marsden came up shooting. I killed him, he shot me and I went down. I don't know where Langostini came from. He must have been hiding in the bathroom or somethin' but I saw him approach Nicole. I heard him tell her 'stop' or 'no, something like that. And they both fired."

"Nicole killed Langostini."

"And he killed her."

"She thought he was you."

"I don't know about that."

"It shouldn't 've happened."

Mickey Cavallaro looked like a corpse. His eyes were dead. His skin was ashen. If it weren't for the harsh breaths moving his chest, he could have laid down and waited for the coroner.

"She thought he was you." He repeated.

"Marsden made everthing get crazy. She might've been confused."

"You shouldn't 've been there."

"She kidnapped me. I did not go looking for her. She thought I was Langostini when she grabbed Kowalski. She's the one that put this thing in motion."

"Are you telling me everything?"

"Look, I know you miss her, but..." Kowalski cried out. Vecchio spun around to find Patrino holding Ray's head back by his hair. Kowalski had pulled his knees up and was staring into Patrino's eyes defiantly. The taser was pressed against his throat. Vecchio turned back trying to keep both of them in sight. "Yes, I'm telling you everything."

"All of it?"

"Yes. You know everything."

"The Mountie, how does he fit in?"

"He doesn't. He's a friend uh ours. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Maybe we should bring him in and see how your stories match."

"He wasn't in the loft. He's the one who broke the window downstairs. He didn't see anything."

"You're sure?"

"I told you what happened."

A long silence followed. Mickey Cavallaro pulled in the scene around him, seeming to analyze each of them. Patrino remained like a statue keeping his weapon pressed tightly against the detective's neck, holding him still by his hair. Kowalski kept staring at the giant, daring him to do something. Vecchio just waited. He could have been waiting for a bus or standing in line at a check out. His eyes betrayed nothing but calm.

Cavallaro understood both detectives. Kowalski was a tough guy. He would refuse to back down or surrender, fighting until a bullet in his head stopped him. Vecchio was a thinker. He had a quick temper but he had control over it. Despite his claim of not liking Kowalski, there was a loyalty there. Probably just one cop looking after another cop but the loyalty was fierce and real. The way Kowalski started out playing tough and standing between him and Vecchio in the beginning made him think that the loyalty was mutual.

Cavallaro raised his hand towards Patrino. The giant dropped Kowalski and followed his boss out the door. Before either of the Rays had a chance to react, Patrino returned carrying a set of keys. He released Kowalski from the handcuffs, patted him on the head like he was a favored puppy and left again without a word.

Kowalski pulled his arms down and rolled off the bed in one motion. This turned out to be a mistake when the room started spinning. He looked at Vecchio with half a smile and passed out.

"Oh great." Vecchio said, disgusted.

Fraser walked through the Consulate doors with a defeated sigh. He didn't notice Inspector Conrad standing at the bottom of the steps. He noticed Constable Turnbull only when he had to step around him to reach his office.

Diefenbaker whined sullenly as he curled up beneath Ben's desk.

The Mountie and the wolf spent the day searching for their two Rays. They began in Ray Kowalski's apartment. Ben moved furniture, searched through the couch and chair cushions, tore apart the bed and remade it and found nothing. Dief sniffed from one end of the apartment to the other. He clearly smelled strangers but this only confirmed what they already knew. Ray had been kidnapped. They were no closer to finding the kidnappers.

After a couple of hours in Kowalski's apartment, they headed to the hospital. The search there was more complicated. Vecchio had been moved to a private room so that area was smaller but interviewing staff and patients who had already been interviewed proved difficult and fruitless.

They went to Vecchio's house next. Ray Vecchio's mother had left the hospital late that evening. They moved Ray to a private room earlier than expected and she wanted to see that he was settled in properly. Through tears and shaking hands she said she saw nothing unusual. There were strangers but no one suspicious. She felt as if she failed to protect her son and Ben spent more time than he planned to comfort and reassure her.

His next stop was to the 27^th District Station. He glared helplessly at all of their computer equipment and personnel and expertise when Welsh admitted they had nothing. A couple of addresses had turned up but they were empty warehouses. Both men were at a loss as to what to do next. All they could do was wait. Either an informant would turn up with information or the computers would uncover some key information on Mickey Cavallaro or one of the investigating officers would find something. Fraser refused to believe their bodies would surface. They weren't dead.

Inspector Conrad appeared in Ben's doorway. He watched the Constable for a moment, noting his taut expression before announcing his presence. Lieutenant Welsh had called Conrad at some point during the day and related the reasons for Fraser's recent behavior. Consequently, Conrad did not feel a reprimand was in order. Fraser was the Consulate Liaison Officer and he was obviously doing his job.

"Did you like Inspector Thatcher?" Conrad asked. He was a bulky man with thick hands and little hair. He was dressed in his usual expensive suit, tailor made to compliment rather than accentuate his size.

"Pardon me, Sir?" Ben asked as he automatically stood at attention.

"Thatcher, small dark-haired woman, moved on to Toronto awhile back."

"Yes, I'm sorry, Sir, I know who you mean."

"Did you like her?"

"Yes, Sir, I did. She was an excellent commanding officer."

"Did you confide in her, Constable?"

"Sir?"

"Tell her your deepest secrets. You do know what the word means, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir. And...no, Sir."

"Yes, you understand the word and no you didn't confide in her?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Ha. I am starting to understand you." The Inspector said with a grin filling out his meaty face.

"Thank you, Sir." Fraser responded, not really knowing how to respond. Conrad continued as if Ben hadn't answered.

"Good, because I don't want you to confide in me either. I'm your commanding officer, not your best friend." Ben decided silence was the best course at this point. Conrad nodded at him and turned to leave. As he reached the doorway, he turned back. "Are you doing all you can to find the Americans?"

"I hope that I am, Sir."

"You're a good officer, Fraser. I'm sure you're doing your best. It's all I would ask and all they would ask."

Conrad gave a last nod before he left the office. Ben took a breath before settling back behind his desk. The wolf sat up, stretched and yawned and moved to lie by a filing cabinet.

The ringing phone startled both of them.

"Constable, Vecchio's back at the hospital." Welsh said, slightly breathless.

"Is he...?"

"He seems fine. He was drugged but he's coming out of it. They found him in a supply closet behind some towel racks." Ben gave up trying to sort through his questions. His heart was beating too loud to think.

"And Ray?"

"I just told you...oh, you mean Kowalski? No sign of him yet. I have several officers searching the hospital."

"Have you contacted the Vecchio family?"

"The whole brood is on their way here."

"I'll meet you shortly, Sir. Thank you."

Ben hung up with shaking hands. Two thoughts vied for lead position in his head. 'Thank you for bringing back Ray Vecchio' and 'Where is Ray Kowalski?'. The next thought told him what he needed to know. Kowalski wasn't kidnapped from the hospital.

"Dief, stay." He said as he ran out of his office. He found a taxi stand half a block from the Consulate and gave the driver the address. He twirled his Stetson anxiously while he sat in the back. Traffic slowed them down. He wanted to leap from the vehicle and run but knew this was still faster than going on foot. Finally, they pulled up in front of the

apartment building. Ben paid the driver and burst out of the vehicle.

Taking the steps two at a time, he hoped he was right. He could not imagine a reason why Cavallaro would return Vecchio and not Kowalski unless Kowalski was dead. Dismissing that thought he took a breath and turned the door handle. Just as he started to push it open, he heard a voice from within.

"Open it, yer dead." Ben smiled with relief. He knew that voice.

"It's Fraser, Ray." He said, raising his voice only enough to be heard. A pause followed before he heard footsteps approach the door. Another pause while Ray looked through the peephole. Then the door opened.

Forgetting himself for a moment, Ben hugged his skinny friend tightly. Kowalski hugged him back with his bad hand, his other hand held his spare gun down by his side. Ben let him go and stepped back to look at him. The blond detective's hair was flat to his head, his face looked pale and shrunken. He seemed to be standing tilted to one side. And Ben had felt him trembling.

"I'm very happy to see you, Ray. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm glad to see you too and yeah, I'm good." Kowalski answered laying his gun on the kitchen counter. So many questions played in Fraser's head he just said the first one he could grasp.

"Where have you been?"

"Riazzi's fiance grabbed us. Before we get into that, you found Vecchio?"

"He's at the hospital. Leftenant Welsh is there as well."

"They dropped 'im at the hospital?"

"It's where they took him from. When you weren't found together, I guessed they might have brought you back here."

"Well, let's us go t' the hospital too. Connors is meetin' me there an' I don' wanna tell this a bunch uh times. Vecchio's all right, right?"

"I am told that he is. What about you?"

"I already told ya."

"You don't look well, Ray."

"A couple new bruises, nothin' t'worry about."

"Ray, you..."

"Look, Fraser, I ain't eaten, my ear is makin' me all outta balance, my hand hurts and I just spent the last day bein' kidnapped. Uh course, I look like hell. But, I'm okay, okay? So let's go. I'll even let you drive since I'm still a little fuzzy."

"Very well, Ray. The leftenant said Ray, the other Ray, was drugged."

"Yeah? Don' know about me. I think I fainted earlier."

"Ray..." Ben started, concerned.

"Nah, it's okay. I just got up too fast. That equi, equi...you know, balance thing."

"Equilibrium." Ben supplied.

"Yeah, that. Good news is, I ain't lost any more hearing an' I think it might be better. Course, I just might be listenin' better. I don't know."

Ben almost told him to let a doctor examine him then he thought better of it. He would wait and tell him at the hospital with Lieutenant Welsh for backup.

As they walked down the steps to Ray's car, Ben watched his friend carefully. He was moving slowly, gripping the railing tightly. When Ray caught him staring, he scowled so Ben forced himself to look away. Trying to avoid another burst of temper from the volatile detective, Ben asked,

"How long have you been here?"

"Don' know. Woke up on the couch maybe half an hour ago. I, uh, wasn't feelin' too good but after that, I called Connors. He ordered me t' the hospital. Him and Regan are gonna meet us there."

"You mean you vomited again?"

"Ya gotta have somethin' inside for that, Fraser. Dry heaves is all. An' don't get all Mountie concerned on me. It's just nerves. Used t'happen when I was a kid too."

They reached the car and Ray gave Fraser the keys. Ben opened the passenger side first, then walked around to the driver's side. Since the two men were nearly the same height he didn't have to adjust the seat. Once Ray was settled inside, Ben turned the key.

"I have never known you to react to stress this way." Ben said cautiously expecting a torrent of anger from his friend. Instead Ray sounded more introspective when he answered.

"Nah, I don' anymore. This is the first time since like, eighth grade, that I've thrown up this much. I guess gettin' kidnapped an' beaten on every five minutes'll do that to ya." A short quiet followed before Ray continued. His voice was soft. "Ya know, Vecchio had t' practically hold my hand. I was freakin' pretty bad."

"That's what having partners is for, Ray. To help each other when you need it."

"Yeah, but Vecchio?" Ben raised his eyebrows and glanced across the car.

"He's a good man, Ray." Kowalski just nodded at that and continued watching out the front windshield.

He was surprisingly quiet about Ben's driving ability. Normally Ray would complain about going too slow or stopping too long at Stop signs or allowing too many others to merge in front of them. Today he seemed oblivious. Ben was worried.

He parked the GTO in front in guest parking taking the closest possible space. Ben didn't like the exhaustion radiating off his partner. Ray glanced at him with a small smile before moving his tired body out of the vehicle. The two men made a slow walk to the entrance.

Inside the doors, standing near the nurse's station, Ben spotted Lieutenants Welsh and Connors. Detective Regan stood slightly separated from them. Mrs. Vecchio and her daughters, Francesca and Maria hovered in a circle in the waiting area. They parted slightly and Ray Vecchio stood up.

Kowalski nodded at him before heading over to join the other lieutenants. Ben parted with him to join Vecchio.

With his family standing nearby, Ben did not let go of his tightly reigned emotions the way he had at Kowalski's apartment. But, a smile lit his face as he held out his hand. Vecchio took it, shaking it and the warmth was enough for now.

"Are you all right, Ray?"

"Still here, Benny."

"They said you were drugged."

"Yeah. Nothin' to worry about according to the doctor. Somethin' with a long name. But you know me, like a Timex, I just keep goin'."

"I don't understand, Ray."

"Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin', Benny. A Timex. You know, a watch." Ben continued to look confused. Francesca took his arm and pressed her body against it while she purred.

"I'll explain later." Ben was happy to see Vecchio seemed in good health. He looked a bit tired, more pale than was normal but nothing worse than when he was working long hours.

Ray kissed his mother and told Maria to take the family home. Mrs. Vecchio argued. She wanted her son home with her after the frights she experienced over the last two days. Ray was adamant.

"I'll be home soon, Ma. We got some loose ends to take care of. I'll try t' put the paperwork off 'til tomorrow, okay?"

After the Vecchios agreed, Ben and Ray joined the rest of the police officers at the nurse's station.

Connors was leaning over the desk speaking with a young nurse. Ben recognized her braid and remembered her from the day before. "This man is a cop. He may have been poisoned. I want him seen immediately." The word poison pushed through the paperwork and the nurse led Kowalski back to an examination room. Kowalski gave Fraser a pained look but he knew better than to argue with his lieutenant. Ben was impressed that Connors took the initiative to get him examined.

The rest of the men retired to the waiting room where Agent Morris arrived a short time later. He was joined by another agent who was introduced all around as Agent Purrey. Both men looked like carbon cut-outs of a recruiting poster. Short, regulation-length hair, gray suits, gray overcoats and dark ties.

"Lieutenant Welsh, we'd like to speak with you and Detective Vecchio in private. Is Detective Kowalski here?" Agent Morris asked, glancing at Vecchio with a familiar smile.

"He's being checked out by a doctor." Connors answered, his voice filled with annoyance.

"Then we'll speak to him when he's ready. Lieutenant Connors, you and Detective Regan are no longer needed here. The events of the last few days are directly related to a federal matter and do not involve your district."

"It involves my officer, it involves me."

"Did you hear me, Lieutenant? This is a federal matter. You and your detectives are not to discuss what you know or what you think you know. This is a closed investigation."

"My detective has nearly been killed twice by this federal matter so don't tell me we're not involved." Morris changed his tone. Lowering his voice, he tried to sound understanding.

"I'm sorry for being abrupt, Lieutenant. I understand you're concerned about your man. Unfortunately, this is a highly classified operation. You don't have need to be involved any further." Connors glared at the agent, then he looked at Fraser and his face changed from angry to insane.

"You're lettin' him stay." Connors growled, jutting a finger in Ben's direction.

"Constable Fraser has been involved from the beginning. He has proved useful throughout this operation. So, yes, he is staying."

Instead of stepping up to Morris, Connors stepped up to Ben. He was close enough for Ben to feel spittle when he spoke. For a moment, he thought Ray's lieutenant was going to swing at him. "He's not even a cop. He's a damned foreigner for God's sake!"

Vecchio started to intervene but Welsh took his arm to stop him. Instead Welsh maneuvered between Connors and Fraser.

"Go home, Barry. Before you do something really stupid. Regan, get the lieutenant outta here."

Regan stepped forward and spoke softly to his lieutenant. He was careful not to touch him but whatever words he used, Connors moved with him. Connors bumped into Fraser purposely as he walked by, then dared him to react with a flicker in his eye. Ben deliberately assumed parade rest. Welsh had to grab Vecchio again to keep him back.

A few minutes later, the five remaining men commandeered the hospital boardroom to talk.

Agents Morris and Purrey sat on one side of the table. Vecchio, Welsh and Fraser faced them from the other side.

"How're you doin', Ray?" Morris asked with a companionable grin.

"All right, Bill. Wish you'd listened to the lieutenant sooner." Fraser was surprised at Vecchio's calm.

"By the time Lieutenant Welsh phoned you had already been taken. It would have made no difference. Besides, there was no reason to think Cavallaro would go ape shit." Purrey and Vecchio chuckled at that. "You should have called us as soon as you heard about Kowalski. We didn't hear a word until you and Constable Fraser disappeared from the hospital."

"I don't want Witness Protection, Bill. I like living in Chicago with my family."

"Well, why don't you start from the top and then we'll decide what to do about that."

"Which top do you want?"

"How about from the time Welsh called to tell you about Kowalski."

Ray sighed with a glance towards Fraser. Ben gave him an encouraging look and Ray began his story. Agent Purrey had pressed the record button on a miniature tape recorder. Mostly the agents listened. Sometimes Morris would interrupt for clarification but he'd quiet down quickly wanting the details in Vecchio's words. Morris stopped him after an hour and clicked off the recorder. Ray had just finished detailing Nicole's death and his voice was shaking slightly.

"Take a break, Ray. You look like you could use it."

"I wanna get this over."

"Nope, take a break. Get some coffee, call your wife." Ray almost laughed.

"You better get your files updated. Stella an' I lasted three months. Why ya think I'm back here?"

"I thought you missed police work."

"That too." Ray answered, standing up and stretching. Fraser followed his lead, then said he was going to check on Kowalski. Welsh told Vecchio they were going to the cafeteria.

"Uh, Constable?" Ben turned around to face Morris.

"We'll need a statement from Kowalski too. Would you find out when that'll be possible?"

"Yes, Sir."

Ben left the room and glanced through a large picture window. The sun had set. A cool rain pattered lightly against the ground. He wished he were outside, feeling the wet drops against his face.

The euphoria he felt at having both of the Rays returned and relatively unharmed had passed. Despair was left in its place. He had failed to protect both of them. He couldn't stretch his guilt around the initial attack on Kowalski. There was no way to expect Nicole Riazzi's sudden appearance in their lives. But later when she took him and Vecchio, he berated himself for not insisting they remain together. He may have been able to prevent his friend from killing someone he was obviously fond of and prevent Vecchio being hurt in the process if only they had stayed together. And the second kidnapping by Mickey Cavallaro was entirely due to his own neglect. He should have stayed at Kowalski's apartment with him. He should have returned the car to the Inspector earlier so leaving him alone would not have been necessary. He was their partner. They depended on him. And he had let them down.

The sadness filling Vecchio's face while he related shooting Nicole was almost too much to bear. And Kowalski was as near to a mental breakdown as he had ever seen in anyone.

Ben rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Excuse me, Constable Fraser?" Ben turned away from the window to find Vecchio's doctor standing behind him. "I'm Doctor Riley."

"Yes, I remember." She still wore her blond hair pulled back and the red sneakers peered from beneath a pair of white jeans.

"I've just finished with Detective Kowalski. We're going to keep him here for the next day or so."

"How is he?"

"He'll be fine with rest. He's very bruised. Some of the contusions are severe and deep. They'll take awhile to heal. The hearing in his left ear is still diminished but that's to be expected with a blown eardrum. I don't expect any permanent damage. He'll probably be slightly off balance for a few days while his body compensates. I'm not sure what happened to him since his last visit but the splints on his fingers were destroyed. I had to re-set all of them."

Ben leaned against the glass with an audible sigh. Doctor Riley touched his arm gently.

"He'll heal, Constable."

"He's been through a great deal already."

"Yes, I can see that though he doesn't want to talk about it. At least not to me. He won't explain the details and I think he needs to. He seems rather depressed."

"I can answer any questions regarding his first assault if you need more information to treat him."

"That would help. And the reason for his being here again?"

"We haven't discussed it."

"I'm going to recommend he have a psych consult, Constable. His depression worries me."

"He's not suicidal." Ben said, quickly.

"No. I agree with you. However, given a few days of reflection with no outlet for the anger he's feeling could change that. He's seething, I can see it in the way he fists his hand, the way he holds his body. He's radiating anger, Constable." Ben looked at her closely. Her concern was real.

"I don't know how to help him." Ben said, turning back towards the window.

"You help him by letting him depend on you." He nodded at her.

"He knows I won't leave."

Several weeks later when Ben remembered those last two days of haunting the hospital, looking out for Kowalski and waiting for his release, he remembered that conversation with the doctor and little else.

He knew he spent most of the time with Kowalski. He remembered thinking he might be neglecting Ray Vecchio but Vecchio had his family to care for him.

And he remembered snatches of conversation between Kowalski and himself. But, the words were meaningless as Ray refused to discuss either of the assaults.

Ray spent one night in the hospital. He said he spoke with a counselor but he couldn't understand the need. He cited his many years as a police officer as an excuse not to be upset over the events of those few days. And he refused to make any appointments to be seen later.

The first night at Kowalski's apartment, Ray surprised Fraser by handing him a sleeping bag and pillow and asking him to sleep on the couch. Ben expected to stay the night but thought he would have to argue for it. Ray saw his surprise and laughed at him.

"Like I really thought you were goin' anywhere."

Ray had disappeared into his bedroom and closed the door. Ben saw his taut expression though Ray tried to hide it with a flip comment. A few hours later, Ben woke to screaming. He disentangled himself from the sleeping bag and rushed into the bedroom to find Ray thrashing inside a nightmare. His hands were drawn above his head and he was repeating "No" like a litany.

Ben caught his arms gently, being careful of his wrapped wrists and his injured hand. Speaking softly he pulled his friend to him and placed a comforting hand against his belly until Ray woke slowly. He rolled off the bed in one motion and backed to the wall. He was wet with perspiration. Confusion filled his eyes before he saw Fraser's face. The Mountie was still rumpled from sleep, his dark hair just slightly messed up, his jeans pulled up hastily and unbuttoned so white boxers showed bunched near the top. Even his white t-shirt was wrinkled.

"Dammit!" Ray cursed, balling his good hand into a fist.

"It's all right, Ray."

"Dammit!" He said again, frustration mixing with the anger. "I hate this."

"It was just a nightmare, Ray. You're all right now."

"No, I'm fu...friggin' insane."

"You're not insane." Ray met his friend's face. He had a sudden desire to hit him. Just pull back and punch him full on. The next instant had him appalled for even thinking it. He wilted at his own guilt. His best friend was here in the middle of the night, rescuing from some damn nightmare he couldn't remember and Ray was imagining what his face would feel like under his fist.

Ben saw the fury in his eyes. He half-expected Ray to attack him. And then just as quickly the storm receded. His friend seemed to close on himself.

Slowly Ray climbed back in bed and leaned against the headboard. He pulled the bedspread over his waist covering the gray sweatshorts he wore. He wasn't wearing a shirt and Ben tried not to stare at the mottled bruising covering his torso. He sat beside him above the covers.

"God, this has been a rotten weekend." Ray said as he pushed a trembling hand through his damp hair. Ben didn't respond hoping that would encourage his friend to talk. Apparently the ploy worked because Ray continued, "I know you already heard all this but I think I need to talk about it. Ya mind?"

"I'm happy to listen to you, Ray." The Mountie responded. Ray glanced at him to be sure he wasn't being kidded. But, he knew he wasn't. Fraser wouldn't do that.

"See, I been in a lotta really scary spots, ya know, workin' undercover, workin' with you," he gave Ben a teasing grin that faded almost immediately, "but, this was different, Fraser. This was lights out time or maybe worse. Remember, I told ya about Ellery an' me in the bank."

"Your unexpected urination." Ray chuckled at Fraser's wording.

"Yeah, that. Well, I thought I couldn't get more scared than I was that day. But, I was just a kid then an'... an' I was wrong. She's real young... Nicole, I mean... but I could feel the evil in her. When she'd hold me a little an' tell me she'd do somethin' nice if I'd just do what she wanted...it was like lyin' with a python or somethin'. I was sure they'd just keep goin' till they killed me. I knew I couldn't tell 'em about Vecchio but even if I did I was pretty sure they'd kill me anyway." Ray hesitated. He risked a glance at Fraser and found the Mountie watching quietly, listening to every word. He continued slowly, trying to be clear.

"She told me...she asked me if I knew how helpless I was? She wanted me to know they could do anything they wanted an' I'd just have t' take it. It was like hearin' a prison door slam shut, ya know? An' all I was was scared. Frightened rabbit, scared shitless, fuckin' brainless scared. You know me pretty good, Frase, an' you know if someone looks at me funny, I get mad. I got a hair trigger fuse or, well, that's not the right words but I flare up pretty easy. But, not with her or them. I didn't like what they were doin' but I wasn't mad. I don't think I got mad once. It was like I was too afraid to feel anything else. An' I know what yer gonna say. You're gonna say it's natural to be afraid an' all that. Hell, I know that. But, even later after I called you, I couldn't shake it. An' in the hospital, I couldn't work up a good rage fer nothin'. I was just that scared little kid again. I think that's why I kept gettin' sick. I was right back to bein' that terrified kid who couldn't help wettin' himself."

"Ray..."

"No, hold off the analysis for a sec, there's more to this." Kowalski closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He looked at Fraser with dread darkening his bright blue eyes.

"Ya know...ya know how I'm kinduh hyper? Nervous energy is what my mum called it." Ben nodded. "Well, I've always been like that. I just keep movin' till I can't. If I didn't have t'sleep I'd prob'ly go twenty-four, seven, ya know?" Ben nodded again but this time Ray missed it because he closed his eyes again. "When I was like three, my dad decided I was too old for a crib. They moved that out, moved my brother's bed in an' got my brother a new one. I got a single bed with a tarnished metal headboard. Some sortuh imitation brass or somethin', I think. An' it had side rails, kinduh like a hospital bed but lower. It was prob'ly a kid's safety bed or somethin'. Not real safe by today's standards but it was more than thirty years ago. I hated that bed, Fraser. My mum said I cried for days. I liked my crib I guess. She says it took about two days before I figured out I could get outta bed when I wanted. So I used to. I'd get up all hours uh the night and go do stuff. Then my mum would find me an' put me back t'bed an' fall asleep with me."

Ben smiled at the picture in his mind of a three year old baby with wild blond hair curled up against his mother. Ray opened his eyes and noticed the grin.

"Yeah it prob'ly was nice, Fraser. But, it didn't last. My dad decided I was just bein' stubborn. He said it was dangerous fer me, which it was, and it was bad fer my growth which I still don't get. But, whatever, he got some restraints from our doctor. He started tying my wrists to the bed at night to keep me from wandering. My mum says I used to scream for hours until I'd finally fall asleep. I kinduh remember that part or maybe I don't. But later, when I was older, I remember I hated goin' to bed. It scared me an' I hated feelin' scared. I mean the whole restraint system only lasted a couple months but I think I was five or six before I stopped throwin' up before bed. Not like I was vomitin' every night or nothin' but a couple times a week was enough. An' I was always feelin' sick. It got so bad they had tests run on me at the hospital cause they thought I was dyin' or somethin'. The whole thing was, well it was humiliating, Fraser. An' it scared the hell outta me."

"You felt trapped." Ben said softly.

"Yeah."

"And you had all of this excess energy and no way to expend it."

"They weren't monsters, Fraser. My dad was afraid I'd go outside or somethin' and my mum never liked tyin' me up. They used t'argue about it."

"I'm sorry, Ray but your parents should not have tried to curtail your natural energy and curiosity. They should have realized you were experiencing an adjustment to your new freedom. It's likely you were able to sleep with your mother because she gave you the extra sense of safety you felt in your crib. Simply working with you over a period of time would likely have cured you of your impulse to wander. Providing you with activities to do in bed during the night or just sitting with you for specific lengths of time and then reducing those time frames gradually may have been all that was necessary."

"It was thirty years ago, Fraser. They didn't know stuff about babies back then."

"There was common sense, Ray. And there's really no excuse for your doctor."

"Look, I didn't tell ya this so you'd get all mad at my folks. I just wanted ya t'understand that bein' tied to a bed twice in two days brought some uh that back. I just think that's why I'm having such a big reaction, ya know."

"That's very likely, Ray. The traumas from childhood are often the deepest we experience. But the danger and fear of the past few days was real. You should expect to have some residual effects."

"I'm just tired uh havin' nightmares, ya know? Except they're not really dreams, it's more like a re-en, re-enac, a do-over."

"A re-enactment."

"Yeah, that."

"I know it's difficult, Ray, but the nightmares will fade as the memories do. And being angry serves no purpose other than to make you more anxious."

"I don't know, Frase. I mean, I know I said I wasn't scared uh my own bedroom but that wasn't really true. I nearly stopped breathin' in here when I laid down. I'm tryin' to tough this out but I'm tellin' you if it weren't for the pain pills I'm takin an' knowin' you were on the couch, I don't think I'd uh gone to sleep at all. The dreams keep mixin' up between now an' when I was a kid. It's like dealing with both things at the same time. An' all I really wanna do is hit somethin', ya know?"

"But, you did sleep, Ray. You should consider your successes. You had three meals at the hospital and did not vomit once. You are able to be in this room alone and you are able to climb into your bed. These are important steps. And you're not allowing your rather volatile temper to control you. Healing takes time whether it's your hand or your mind that needs attention and you are making great strides in that direction."

"I still feel like a freak."

"Well, I have an idea. I don't know if you'll want to do it though."

"I am not seein' the police shrink."

"No, that was not my suggestion. I thought perhaps a bit of re-arranging might be in order."

"Re-arrange what?"

"Your bedroom. Move the bed to a different wall, change the angle of the dressers. We could put different curtains up or switch to blinds."

"I am not goin' curtain shopping with you, Fraser." Ray said. Ben was taken back by this. He stammered slightly feeling he had overstepped.

"Of course you'd want to choose your own."

"Forget it, Fraser." Ray said, clearly amused at the Mountie's confusion.

"Oh. All right, I'll just return to the couch."

"No, I mean I like the idea uh movin' the furniture. I kinduh get that maybe a change would do the trick. I don't wanna move so I'm willin' to try this. What I meant was I'll tell ya some other time why guys don't go buyin' drapes together." Ben seemed to accept this in lieu of an actual understanding.

"Oh, well then, very good, Ray. If you'll just stand up."

"You wanna do it now?"

"No time like the present, Ray." Ben answered cheerfully.

"You're a freak." Then he yawned. And he yawned again.

"Oh, Ray, I apologize, perhaps tomorrow would be better."

"No, no, I wanna do it now."

"You're still healing, Ray, I wasn't thinking."

"Let's just get this done, all right?"

Ray scrambled off the bed and Ben followed his lead. Being cautious of Ray's hand, they started by pushing the bed against the opposite wall. Ben suggested they empty the dressers before moving them but Ray said they were guys, they could move them as is. The next half-hour was spent lugging the full dressers from one side of the room to the other. Beneath the furniture lingered dust bunnies, food crumbs and long forgotten papers and receipts. While Ray picked up the larger items, Ben retrieved the vacuum and took care of the rest. Next came some adjustments to the pictures hanging on the wall and the dreamcatcher that Ben gifted Ray with a couple of years earlier. When they were finished, it was nearly dawn but the room looked new and Ray was satisfied.

Ray yawned some more and winced slightly when he noticed his hand was throbbing again. Ben caught the yawning bug.

"It's time for your pill, Ray. Why don't you get into bed and I'll bring it to you. Then you can get some sleep." Ben said.

"Yeah I guess I better. But, I can get my own..." His words were lost when Ben disappeared into the livingroom. The Mountie returned a few moments later and handed him two white tablets and water.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks Frase." Ben reached the door. "And, uh, thanks, Frase." Ray repeated.

"I'll see you in a few hours."

Ben stayed at Ray's apartment for three days before they both decided Kowalski should stay alone. Ben wanted to stay longer and it took some convincing to make him go back to the Consulate.

Two days after leaving Kowalski's apartment, Ben decided to visit Ray Vecchio. He hadn't seen him in over a week so he made a point to stop by the 27^th District after work. Ray was at his desk as expected. He was hidden behind a manila folder. All Ben could see from the doorway was the top of his balding head. He noticed the sling was gone and Ray seemed to be moving without any stiffness.

He approached the desk and took his usual seat in front of it. Ray dropped the folder, then smiled at seeing his friend all decked out in his red serge.

"Hey, Benny, what're you doin' here?"

"I thought perhaps you would like to get something to eat after your shift."

"You know, my shift ends in ten minutes so let's just risk it and head out." Ben looked clearly uncomfortable with this idea but Ray just clapped him on the shoulder and led the way outside to the Riv.

Another spring rain drizzled over the city and Ben missed the sun. Ray seemed not to notice except to complain that his new shoes were getting muddy.

"So, where'd ya wanna go?" Ray asked once they were settled inside.

"There's a new Thai restaurant near the Consulate that I'd like to try." Ben suggested.

"Sounds good to me. So, uh, you back to work?"

"Yes, I returned to duty yesterday."

"Old Conrad isn't as demanding as the Dragon Lady, huh?"

"Inspector Thatcher was very interested in maintaining discipline, Ray. Inspector Conrad is more interested in maintaining a calm work environment."

"And you don't stand sentry anymore."

"Well, not often at any rate. Constable Turnbull and the new officer, Constable Randolph, share that duty."

"Good. I never liked you bein' the bird perch."

"I am aware of that, Ray."

Ben enjoyed the easy banter. He felt himself start to relax for the first time in days.

"So, how's Kowalski doin'"

"He's healing. Leftenant Connors has given him a week's leave. Then he'll be assigned desk duty until his fingers have healed. There was some concern he might need surgery to repair the damage to the third and fourth digits but x-rays have shown they are mending properly."

"He's a tough little sh...guy, I'll give him that." Ben wasn't sure of an appropriate response so he nodded. "Ya should've seen 'im giving Paul Patrino the evil eye." Ray chuckled, "Patrino looks like a mountain with legs. Kowalski looked like the 'little green sprout' next to him."

"Green sprout?"

"You know 'The Jolly Green Giant' and the "Little Green Sprout'?"

"I'm sorry." Ben said, still not understanding.

"Ah, well, that's all right, Benny. You and pop culture references have never been too successful."

"I suppose not."

Ray parked behind the restaurant complaining about the walking distance to the front doors. Ben followed along, listening to his friend without commenting. He knew Ray well enough to know that the man needed to complain. It was an ingrained part of his personality.

A slender Asian man with a brown mole and a hair growing from inside the mole greeted them. He said they would have a twenty minute wait. Ray complained some more but they decided they had time. Ray started to sit down on the bench near the door but Ben nodded towards a small family who was entering off the street. A woman carrying a baby carrier with an infant tucked inside, a man and two small boys came in. The man motioned for the boys to sit with their mother on the bench while he gave the reservation clerk his name. He joined them on the bench with a glance at the Mountie and the detective. Ray just rolled his eyes at Ben and leaned against the wall beside him.

The wait extended to half an hour but finally they were seated near a window facing on to the street.

"So, where's Dief?" Ray asked once they were settled.

"Diefenbaker elected to have an overnight this evening. Apparently he enjoyed his time at Turnbull's apartment last weekend so he was anxious to return there."

"Better be careful, that wolf'll leave ya for an easier companion."

"First of all, Ray, Diefenbaker is with me of his own choosing. If he wants to leave, he is free to do so. And second, in what way am I not an easy companion?" Ray enjoyed teasing the Mountie. He hid a smile as he answered.

"Well, you won't let him have junk food. Yer always tellin' him he's a disgrace and he's gettin' soft. Maybe he feels under-appreciated." Ray was surprised when Ben began to consider his words seriously.

"You think I'm too strict with him?"

"Well, you do scold 'im a lot, Benny. And when was the last time you gave him a good all-over pet?"

"Well, I-I don't remember. My God, Ray, do you think he'd actually choose to stay with Constable Turnbull? I mean, he's free to make that decision and if he'd be happier, I certainly wouldn't..."

"Benny."

"stand in his way. I want him..."

"Benny."

"to be happy. Yes, Ray?"

"I'm kidding. Wolf's too smart to want an idiot like Turnbull around all the time. You treat him good. Dief is happy with you."

Ray was saved from having to reassure his friend further by the ringing of his cell phone. He growled and answered it abruptly.

"Aw, give it up, Franny, we're having dinner. He doesn't wanna talk to you."

"Shut up, Ray," Francesca Vecchio responded, "Welsh told me to find him. I saw you sneaking out earlier."

"I did not sneak out. Never mind, what's Welsh want with Fraser?"

"It's Ray Kowalski. He's been arrested. They're holding him down at his district."

"Arrested for what?" Fraser, who had been half listening to the conversation perked up at this bit of information. "All right, Franny, we're on our way."

Ray flipped the phone shut and sighed. "We gotta go." He said.

"Who's been arrested, Ray?"

"Kowalski. He decked some guy at a warehouse or store or somethin'."

Once they were back in the Riv, Ray wasted no time getting into traffic. Kowalski's station was a good half-hour drive even at seven in the evening. He chanced a look a Fraser finding exactly what he expected. A tense, tight lipped Mountie concentrating too hard on things outside the vehicle.

"Relax, Benny, he's with his own people, they'll take care of 'im."

"I'm not sure that's entirely accurate, Ray. He has no real friends there."

"Why not? Forget that, I don't care why. He's a cop, Benny, they'll look after him cause uh that. You know it's true."

"Yes, I suppose I do." Fraser conceded.

"Jeez, what a pain in the ass that guy is." Ray was surprised when he realized he blurted that out loud. He wasn't surprised at Ben's expression.

"He's a good man and a fine police officer, Ray." Vecchio scowled. He suddenly realized he was tired of hearing about Ray Kowalski.

"Ya know what, he's been whining about what happened for a week. I'm sorry he got hurt but dammit, Benny, I killed her for him, okay? What more does he want?"

"Ray." Ben said, admonishing him with that one word.

"No, I mean it. I did the guilt thing. I blew the head off a friend uh mine an' I did what I could when Cavallaro grabbed us. I'm done payin' penance for this guy."

"I don't believe this is about you, Ray. And unless you have spoken to him at some point I am unaware of, he has neither asked nor indicated that he blames you or expects your penance."

"Trust me, Benny, he does. But, I'm done, okay? I didn't know she'd come around. Maybe I shoulduh turned her in right at the beginning but I didn't an' what's done is done. Kowalski knew the risk he was takin' when he agreed to be me. I don't know why he has to keep monopolizing your time, an' throwin' it back at me every five minutes."

Fraser sat forward, his voice low with anger. "He has not thrown anything at you. And as for my time, I will spend it as I see fit. He is not himself at the moment and he needs assistance. I would do the same for you."

"Yeah? Well, ya haven't." Both men stopped at those words. Ben's anger flickered while Ray's turned to embarrassment. A lengthy pause followed while they gathered their thoughts. Then, simultaneously they spoke, stopped again and sighed.

"Go ahead, Benny." Ray said.

"I'm sorry that I've neglected you, Ray." Ben said seriously, "You seemed to be all right when I phoned so I thought you were."

Ray pushed a hand through his thinning hair. His voice was level when he spoke, "I am all right. Look, I shouldn't uh said that, okay? I'm not sayin' the last few days have been easy or anything. What happened with Nicole was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. I know in my head that she was a bad person but... I liked her. She helped me when I was under, hell, she's probably the reason I could do it so long. But when I think back on bein' in the loft an' Marsden comin' up shooting an' all that, well, I know I couldn't have done anything else. Nicole lined up for that bullet a long time ago no matter how much I tried to stop her." He hesitated with a breath and a sigh. "So, I miss her and I wish I could've done things different but I'm more or less okay with it."

"But, you still feel neglected." Ben stated.

"God, you make it sound like I'm ten and my best friend dumped me for the new kid."

"I don't think you're childish, Ray. If you feel that I am choosing between you then I'm sorry for giving that impression."

Vecchio breathed in his own guilt. The stuff with Nicole and Kowalski and now this, he almost wished he could summon Armando Langostini from the depths of hell he sent him to. Langostini was selfish, arrogant and cold. Guilt would not be an issue for him. If someone took a beating for him, Armando would just be glad he had escaped the punishment. But Ray wasn't Armando. He made a fine imitation but it was a cheap and fragile one.

"You know what, Benny? Forget about it, okay? Kowalski had a bad go of it. My personal feeling that the guy is dumber than sh...than crap doesn't matter."

"I don't want to lose your friendship, Ray." Ben said, seriously.

"Yeah, me either, Benny, but I don' wanna group hug either, okay?"

"Understood."

Vecchio was still irritated but not at Fraser. Partly he was angry with himself for having any sort of jealousy regarding Kowalski. He placed a ridiculous amount of value on Kowalski's relationship with Fraser. He knew better. There was no reason to play "the Mountie likes me best". After years of being alone, Fraser had enough capacity to allow for two best friends. And Vecchio was a little old to be worrying about things like that anyway.

Mostly he directed his anger at Kowalski. Stanley Raymond Kowalski. He took over Vecchio's life when Vecchio was absent. He was Fraser's only friend while Vecchio played FBI Superhero in Las Vegas. He called Vecchio's mother "Ma" and Francesca called him "bro". In the year that Ray had been absent, Kowalski put his hands on everything that Ray loved. Kowalski even loved and married Stella first.

Of course, Vecchio had long since realized he never actually loved Stella. Hell, Kowalski probably loved her more now than Vecchio ever had. But when Ray returned from Las Vegas, he was in great need. Stella was strong and safe. She offered security and stability and escape when Ray's life was teetering on the edge of insanity. He met her when he was confused internally and playing 'James Bond' externally. She helped to steady him. And later, when it was time, she let him leave her.

So, Stella didn't enter into his general annoyance with the blond detective.

No, if he had to name the real reasons it would be gratitude and guilt. Ray did not want to owe Kowalski anything. And yet, when Nicole burst into his life with violence and cruelty, Kowalski did his job. If he had told Nicole the truth that night, then Ray would likely be dead now. His whole family might be dead now. Nicole was ready to murder Ray in the loft when she understood the deception so he could not minimize Kowalski's sacrifice. He hated that. And knowing that Kowalski was still suffering from her attack and then Cavallaro's kidnapping only added to his frustration.

Ray managed to put Nicole into perspective. Why couldn't he do the same thing with Kowalski?

With Ray still analyzing himself and Fraser lost in worry over Kowalski, the remainder of the drive was silent. Ray drove the Riv into the police garage, flashed his badge at the guard and parked. Once inside the building, Fraser led the way to the Sergeant's desk. The set up was eerily similar to the 27^th District and Ray half-expected to see Welsh appear. They were told to wait for Lieutenant Connors. Ray groaned loudly. Fraser kept his groan to himself. The Lieutenant approached them a few moments later. Keeping his eyes on Vecchio, obviously speaking only to him, he explained the situation.

"Kowalski belted a clerk named Wally Simmons in the Warehouse Electronics Store a few blocks from here. Simmons said he was buying some stereo headphones. Apparently he tried on a set. Simmons started to put some music through, which is normal so the customer can hear the quality. According to the clerk, Kowalski got very red in the face. He ripped off the headphones and they broke. Simmons tried to get him to pay for the merchandise and Kowalski decked him."

"He pressin' charges?" Vecchio asked.

"He wants to but his manager's trying to talk him out of it. He doesn't want the publicity and he says he knows Kowalski. He's a regular at the store."

"Where is Ray now?" Fraser asked. Connors flickered a glance at him before he turned his attention back to Vecchio.

"Kowalski's in holding. If the clerk doesn't press charges, you can take 'im, otherwise he's here until he gets arraigned tomorrow."

"You got him in a cell, Lieutenant? He's your own guy, you can't cut him some slack?"

"He committed a violent crime, Detective. He's separated from the rest of the criminals so he's safe enough."

"You could put him in an interview room, Lieutenant. You know he's not going anywhere."

"He can stay where he is. Maybe he'll start thinking for a change."

"I'd like to see him." Fraser said.

"No visitors until he's released or after his arraignment."

"Then may I speak with the store clerk. Perhaps help to convince him..."

"We don't influence our witnesses here in Chicago, Constable. That would be breaking the law."

Connors gave them both a parting glare before he left them standing in front of the Sergeant's desk. Vecchio wanted to chase after him and shake the arrogant bastard. Fraser shared the sentiment but he knew appealing to Connors on any level was useless. Whatever the man had against Kowalski and apparently the Mountie was too strong to fight.

Fraser paced a few steps away from Ray rubbing his eyebrow anxiously. He looked around what was essentially the front lobby of the police station trying to think of some way to help Ray Kowalski. Nothing came to mind that did not include committing a crime. He slumped helplessly against the wall.

Ray hated seeing Fraser in pain. This was obviously killing him. He imagined how he'd feel if Fraser was in jail and he was denied access to him and he could understand.

"He's all right, Benny. You told me yourself he used to sleep in the cells at the 2-7 sometimes."

"It's not the same, Ray."

"He's a cop, Benny. He's a grown man. He's seen the inside of a cell before. So have you for that matter. You know he's all right."

"Ray, he shouldn't be locked up right now. You know what happened to him. You know why he reacted that way to the headphones."

"Yeah, what I don't know is what he'd be doin' trying to buy some in the first place." Fraser shook his head, staring towards the floor. He didn't understand either.

"All right, wait here, I've got an idea."

"Ray." Fraser said, warningly.

"It's all right, Benny, just wait here."

Fraser watched a street lamp flicker through the glass doors of the station. He hoped he wouldn't have to call Welsh to tell him that Ray Vecchio had also been arrested. As the minutes turned to half an hour, Ben started to head back towards Connors office. He couldn't wait anymore. Whatever Ray was planning must have gone astray.

Detective Peter Regan and Ray caught him in the hall about halfway to the bullpen.

"He's being released, Benny. Regan's gonna take us down to get him."

"Mr. Simmons decided against charges?" Ben asked.

"Well, the Mayor spoke to Connors and Connors spoke to Simmons manager. Simmons must've decided season tickets to the Bulls was worth a punch in the jaw."

"The mayor bribed...?"

"Hey, watch yer mouth, the Mayor just reminded Connors of Kowalski's work on the murder uh that politician's kid. Warehouse Electronics bribed the guy."

"Ya know, Vecchio, I wouldn't uh had the balls t'call the Mayor like that." Regan said.

"Yeah, well, ya do what ya gotta do sometimes." Ray answered pleased. Ben looked at him with pride and gratitude mixed equally.

The holding cells of this district existed in the basement of a three story building. The front lobby lived on the second floor. Regan led the two men down two tiers of creaking steps. Damp smelling cement walls surrounded them. In the dark corners, Ben noticed traces of mold. As they approached the cells, the odor of urine, perspiration and vomit grew stronger.

"Jeez, it smells like a dungeon down here."

"Yea, we get lots uh complaints. Not enough outside ventilation. This building was one of the first jails in Chicago. It's like historical or somethin'."

"I'm surprised ya don't get sued."

"Ah, well, it stinks an' all but it's kept sanitary an' it's not like anyone spends more than a day or two here. Anything longer an' they get shipped out."

At the bottom of the stairs they took a sharp right that opened on to the guard's station. Two uniformed officers worked the desk. Regan told them they were there for Kowalski and handed the paperwork over.

"Good." One of the officers, Wilson, said "Never like seein' a cop in there, ya know?" All the officers agreed with that comment.

Vecchio, Fraser and Regan entered the holding area. True to his word, Connors had kept Ray separated. However, his cell shared one wall of bars with the cell occupied by the rest of the day's prisoners. The bench in Kowalski's cell was bolted to the floor against the wall bordering the other cell. They found Ray sitting on the floor on the opposite side. He was hugging his knees to his chest and watching the other prisoners like a parakeet watches the family cat.

Dressed in loose fitting blue jeans and a thin black t-shirt, he looked far too small and defenseless inside the cell. His waist coat lay on the floor beside him. His hair was defying gravity as usual but it looked darker in the dim light. Their entrance caught his attention and Ray looked up. He scrambled to his feet.

"Tell me yer getting' me outta here." He said.

"Yes, Ray." Ben answered. "The charges have been dropped."

"Ooh, get to go home, blue eyes." A prisoner cat called from the other cell.

"Shut up, Rex." Regan growled. "Solicitation." He explained quietly to Vecchio. The other detective nodded. Kowalski had to fight not to just collapse with relief when the cell door opened. Ben patted him on the shoulder and smiled encouragingly. Regan handed him an envelope.

"That's your personal stuff. I snagged it outta impound. The paperwork's all done so just sign out at the front."

"Thanks, Regan." Leaving Wilson back at the guard's station, the rest of the men headed up the stairs. Regan led them along.

"You should think about a transfer. No way Connors is gonna let this go." He said.

"Yeah, he already suspended me no matter how this worked out."

"Well, he should've. You were guilty, Kowalski, you just got lucky the guy didn't file."

"Hey!" Vecchio interrupted.

"You know I'm right, Vecchio."

They had reached the top and were entering into the visitors waiting area so no one responded to Regan. Fraser shook the detective's hand and thanked him for his help. Kowalski did the same. Vecchio only nodded at him before following his friends through the lobby. Kowalski stopped to sign out and Fraser noticed the fresh blood seeping through the bandage on his right wrist. Kowalski saw him notice and shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it there. Vecchio took the lead next as they went through the lobby and then down another flight of stairs to the parking garage.

Finally, they were settled inside the Riv. Ray Vecchio drove. Fraser climbed in the back seat. Kowalski rode shotgun. The blond leaned back and closed his eyes. No one knew exactly how to broach the subject of his arrest so they remained quiet for the journey to Kowalski's apartment.

Vecchio considered dropping them off and going home. He was curious but he knew Fraser would explain later. Ben took that option away however when he asked Ray to park. Kowalski climbed out slowly. Exhaustion made his movements stiff. He held the seat up for Ben to follow.

The three men made their way into the apartment. Kowalski asked if they wanted coffee. Vecchio did. Ben offered to make it but Ray told him to sit down. He pulled the coffee can from above the stove and started searching for a spoon. Stopping for a moment, he swallowed hard. The next moment he was running for the bathroom.

Ben stood up to follow but Ray stopped him.

"Give 'im a minute." Ben nodded reluctantly. To stay busy he went into the kitchen to finish making coffee. By the time the coffee pot was half full, Kowalski appeared. He looked pale and embarrassed.

"I'm gonna grab a shower." He said before going back in the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

Ben leaned against the counter. He exchanged looks with Vecchio before scanning the rest of the apartment through the kitchen bar.

The apartment was clean, too clean in Ben's opinion. Kowalski was habitually messy. The turtle had been moved from its home on the bar to the livingroom table. This time he was lying full bodied in the water and his legs were moving back and forth.

"It's almost ten, Benny, maybe we should get outta here an' let him get some sleep. He looks about ready to fall over."

"I'm not certain he should be alone, Ray. I thought he was coming to terms but it seems I was wrong. If you don't mind staying, I'd appreciate another opinion."

"You know I think he's psycho."

"Ray." Ben disapproved.

"Sorry. All right. You try to be objective an' so will I, fair enough?"

"I always strive to be objective, Ray."

A few minutes later, they heard the shower turn off. Kowalski appeared a short time later dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt. The jeans had a rip across the right knee and several tears and snags and holes. They hung on him as if they were two sizes too big. He carried a spool of bandage tape and another spool of gauze.

"Hey, Frase, can you wrap this for me, I can't seem to get it."

He sat down at the small dining table and Ben sat beside him. Vecchio watched them while sipping his coffee. Fraser looked at Ray's right wrist. Mottled bruises turning yellow and green marred his pale skin. Some scrapes and scratches were crusted with scabs. But, one deep cut had been re-opened and was damp with fresh blood.

"How did this happen, Ray?" Ben asked as he gently wrapped gauze around the narrow wrist.

"I got arrested."

"Yes, but,"

"Handcuffs, Benny. He got arrested." Vecchio supplied.

"They must have seen you were already injured. Did the arresting officer not realize you're a detective?"

"Actually, the arresting officer didn't use cuffs. Connors did when they were takin' my statement at the station. Said it was against policy. No, no, just that one, Frase, I think the other one'll heal better if air gets to it." Ray tugged his arm back once Ben finished. "Besides, I got pissed and pulled on 'em so it's my own fault anyway."

Vecchio looked at Fraser who barely maintained his calm. Ray had only seen Ben really angry a few times but he knew the look. His face showed a mask of neutrality but his eyes turned pale gray, his mouth was thin and tight. He kept his shoulders pulled as if he were standing at attention instead of sitting in his friend's dining room. Ray was amazed he managed to sit still at all.

"So, you wanna tell us what happened?" Ray asked, almost adding 'Stanley' but thinking better of it.

"I don't know." He answered, standing up and moving into the livingroom. "I mean, I know, but I don't know why or what, I mean, I wasn't really too on edge when I went into the store." Ray paced to the bedroom door, turned around and paced back to the end of the couch.

"What were you doing before you went shopping?" Ben asked.

"I was cleanin'. I don't do it much. My mum comes over an' she keeps the place pretty clean so I don' bother but I got this time on my hands so I was kinduh fixin' things up."

"It looks very tidy." Ben said.

"Thanks. Anyway, after I was done, I...well, I did somethin' stupid. I flipped on the stereo without thinkin'. Ya know, I done it a million times so I just didn't think. But, the same CD was in the machine, you know, the one she used, an' it was really loud an' I freaked a little. Not as much as ya think though." He said pointedly to Fraser.

"I mean, I'm used to loud music an' it shook me but it didn't put me over the edge or anything. Anyway, I just flipped it off, tossed the CD in the trash an' put some classical sh...stuff on. I figured if it was uh completely different kinduh music, it'd be all right. An' it was, just kept it low an' started a pot uh coffee." Ray took a break from pacing and sat down on the couch.

"But, I got this new guy livin' downstairs. He works nights, sleeps during the day. It wasn't low enough for him. He started poundin' on the floor, well, his ceiling, my floor. An' that just ticked me off. Cuz now I'm done cleanin' an' I just wanna relax a little an' this guy is poundin' at me. So, what I'd normally do, is I'd put on the headphones. I'd crank the music, lay on the couch an' not think for awhile. Except, I couldn't, cuz my headphones broke the other night." He stood up again and retreated to the kitchen,

"Well, ya know, I haven't been outside in a few days, so I figured I'd just go replace the headphones. I was thinkin' about that horse thing, ya get thrown, then ya get back on, right? So, I drove down to the warehouse an' I find the set I want."

He leaned over the kitchen counter towards the dining table. His hands set out in front of him. "That Simmons kid comes up an' tells me I should test 'em. I told 'im I didn't need to but he was all insistent about it. So, I figure 'what the hell' that's why I'm buyin' 'em. But, the kid blasted the stupid stereo. Well, my ears are still hurting from before and that just about does me in. So, I batted the headphones off my head with my one good hand but the wires got tangled up and I just ripped 'em off. I knew I was pretty on edge right then so I figured I should just get outta there. I know the manager and I figured I could call him tomorrow and apologize. But this kid starts yelling at me. He comes around the counter and stands right in front uh me. I told 'im to back off but he wouldn't stop. He started yelling for security and he grabbed my arm and I just popped him. Next thing I know, I have three employees on me and their security guy is yellin' something about 911. I was feelin' really dumb about then, ya know, not mad anymore. I went limp on purpose. Didn't wanna give 'em anything to fight so they just laid on me 'til the cops showed up. The arresting officer is a beat cop named Ferguson that I've known for a couple years an' he was cool about it. Just told me to shut up, settle down and he'd take me t'the station. I was good with that. Seemed the smart thing t'do. I mean I'm a cop, but so's he an' he had t'do somethin'." Kowalski left the kitchen and settled back at the table.

"I guess you know the rest."

"Ray, what time did all of this happen?"

"I don't know, got t'the station around three, I guess, why?"

"It's not important right now." Vecchio knew why Fraser asked. They didn't get the call from Francesca until seven. Assuming Welsh didn't waste time finding them and they both knew Welsh would not waste time, that meant Connors let Kowalski stew for four hours before telling anyone where he was.

"Oh, yer wonderin' why I didn't call ya. I tried to but you weren't at the Consulate. Wasted my one phone call talkin' to Turnbull."

"That's almost tragic." Vecchio joked, trying to lighten the mood. Fraser and Kowalski smiled in agreement.

"So, uh, disappointed, huh?" Kowalski asked Ben.

"No, Ray."

"Oh, come on, you thought changin' the room around, babysittin' me for three days, tellin' me about yer childhood, ya thought I was cured, didn't ya?"

"You don't need to be cured, Ray. This isn't a disease."

"But yer still disappointed in me."

"No, Ray, I'm not. I think you had appalling luck today. I think you need more time and distance to put these things into perspective."

"Bull." Vecchio said. The other men turned to him.

"Ray." Ben cautioned.

"Time and distance is what you need when your marriage breaks up or someone dies. What you are is mad. You're raging so hard and keepin' it buried so deep, it's a wonder you didn't kill that kid."

"Ray, I really think..."

"That's all you do, Benny. Let me tell you something, he's tryin' so hard to keep it all under control, he's gonna explode."

"I am in the room, ya know." Ray piped in.

"Sure you are. In body anyway. But, where's yer head? Worryin' about Fraser's opinion? Worried if ya blow up, he'll walk?"

"That's just silly, Ray. I've seen Ray's temper many times."

"A short fuse is not the same thing, Benny. You're Mr. Action Figure, Kowalski and you're mopin' around here...dusting for God's Sake. Does that even sound like you?"

"I was bored." Kowalski answered defensively.

"You wanna know what I think?"

"Ray, please be cautious here." Ben warned. Vecchio took a breath and pushed himself away from the table.

"Yer right, Benny. Never mind what I think. I'm goin' home. Good night, you two."

Ben walked him to the door, glad he had assumed Ben would spend the night. His assumption allowed all of them to escape the awkwardness of Kowalski asking him to stay or leave.

"We'll talk tomorrow, Benny. Get some sleep."

When Fraser returned to the table, Ray still looked surprised that Vecchio had backed down and gone. Ben took Vecchio's coffee cup to the kitchen and rinsed it. Ray laid his head against his arm on the table and closed his eyes. He was startled a few moments later when Ben helped him to his feet and sent him to bed.

Fraser waited politely for several minutes before he peeked into the bedroom. Ray lay curled on one side facing away from him and hugging a pillow. The soft, shallow breaths confirmed he was sleeping.

Ben pulled the now familiar sleeping bag and extra pillow from the closet, stripped off his tunic and jodhpurs to boxers and t-shirt and settled to go to sleep. But, sleep didn't come. He found himself staring at the ceiling. Ray Vecchio had read them correctly. Both were too exhausted to face the truth. Ben hadn't wanted to see it because he wanted so much for it not to be true. But, it was. He was not helping Ray.

The rage Kowalski was feeling, the rage Doctor Riley had seen, that Vecchio had seen was something he couldn't relate to. The only time in his life when he came close was in arresting Gerard both the first and second time. Gerard had caused his father to be murdered and his presence nearly made Ben release all the control he kept so closely around himself. But he had been able to act in both cases. He had been able to investigate, work out the details and eventually arrest him in both situations. He had not been helpless with Gerard. His anger had had an outlet and a purpose.

Ray had neither of those things. His rage was useless since Nicole Riazzi and Lonnie Marsden were dead. Mario Profigliani had been arrested but through none of Ray's actions. As for Mickey Cavallaro and Paul Patrino, they were likely in Europe. Ray had no recourse against them either. He was left victimized and terrorized and unable to vent any of it on those who inflicted it.

Ben's calm and deliberate means of dealing with trauma were like placing a cement wall around Ray. Kowalski was passionate, easily angered, emotional. He needed to let those feelings out, not keep them caged. Using his own code of behavior as a yardstick, Ben had simply not realized.

Ray Kowalski stood in the bathroom staring into the mirror. He didn't recognize the person staring back. He wanted to. He shifted from side to side trying to find himself somewhere in the reflection. He just wasn't there.

He gave up on that exercise and turned on the shower. Using a plastic bag, he covered his hand before stepping under the warm stream. He was getting fairly competent at working with one hand.

Ray didn't think about his plan for the day. He just felt it rolling around in the back of his mind.

He dressed in his ripped up jeans and a white t-shirt. Then he picked up the bag he left lying on the bed. It was early, almost dawn and he was hoping Fraser would still be sleeping.

Creeping into the livingroom, he found the Mountie snoring softly on his back. Ray smiled at him. He laid a note on the dining table and left the apartment.

Ben woke to the sound of the phone ringing. It took a moment to adjust to the noise and his surroundings and his sore back from the couch. His usual grace abandoned him as he stumbled to the end table to attack and destroy the offensive squalling.

"Hello. Canadian Consul...or, rather the Kowalski residence, Constable Fraser speaking."

"Benny, Kowalski's at it again. I'm on my way to get you."

"At what? You mean he's been arrested again? Isn't he here?"

"No on both counts. Meet me downstairs." The line clicked off and Fraser cursed Chicago manners.

He pulled his uniform on in what he thought was his personal best time ever and went down to the curb to wait for Vecchio. The green Riviera came screeching around a corner and settled in front of him.

"What's going on, Ray?"

"I got a call from a guy named Glen Brown. He runs a gym on the south side. Been there maybe 20 or 30 years. He keeps it open every day, twenty four hours a day. It's a real boxing gym not some yuppie jazzercise deal like Franny goes to. Anyway, he said Kowalski's down there. Showed up real early this morning. Said I should come an' get 'im."

"Why would he call you?"

"Yeah, I'm wonderin' that too. I've used Brown a few times cuz the gym is kind of a hangout for low level bad guys. You know like small time drug dealers an' bookies an' the like. He's not much for turnin' in his clientele but now an' then he'll give me a call. It's usually pretty serious if he's botherin' to get involved."

"How does he know Detective Kowalski?"

"I don' know. And I really don't know why he'd connect the two of us."

"Did he say why you needed to pick him up?"

"Nope, just said he thought Kowalski might need a ride home. Said I'd understand when I got there. What was he like this morning?"

"I didn't see him, Ray. I overslept."

"You? Isn't there some kind of Mountie code against that?"

"Not that I'm aware of." When he heard the tone in Benny's voice, Ray decided not to tease him anymore.

He pulled into the parking lot of a small gym. The outside door was metal with a faint dusting of rust at the edges. The inside was dark. It smelled of sweat and rubber and mildew. Once they passed the foyer, a tall black man greeted them. He waved his hand around the place as if he was introducing them to the gym.

"Welcome back, Vecchio, ya like what I done with the place?'

Both Ray and Ben looked around the badly lit work out room complete with punching bags, rowing machines and a regulation size boxing ring. Only three patrons occupied the area. Two of those were in the ring. The third was holding an ice pack to his cheek and yelling obscenities through the ropes. Ben recognized Kowalski immediately. His baggy gym shorts and muscle shirt showed off the hard sinewy lines of his body. He was in the ring. His injured hand was uncovered and tucked close to his chest while he rabbit punched with one gloved hand. He danced around his opponent with real skill while the other man dodged and weaved away from his punches. The other man seemed equally skilled but had yet to swing. Both of them wore helmets and mouth guards.

The detective and the Mountie approached the ring as if entranced by the view. Glen Brown gave up trying for a compliment on his new Nautilus machine. Neither man seemed to notice it.

Once they reached the edge of the ring, they could see Kowalski's eye was already swelling shut. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose. His opponent appeared untouched. He just kept moving away from Ray's punches, playing with him. They could hear snatches of teasing from him. Ray came up with a solid and sudden jab that snapped the other man's head back. The man was surprised when he stumbled. The observer yelled at him to keep moving and keep up his guard. The yelling distracted him and Kowalski hit him again. This time his opponent came back at him with two good hands. One punch caught him square in the belly, the other under his chin. Ray hit the mat hard on his back.

Ben started into the ring but Vecchio held him back. Ray lay still on the mat, staring at the ceiling as if he were stunned. And then he started to laugh. His opponent stopped moving around him to stare. The observer stopped cheering. Ray kept laughing.

"Okay, okay, you win." He managed to choke out as he spit out his mouth guard. He turned on to his knees still laughing. His opponent waited for him to stand up before he ducked through the ropes to join the observer.

Ray stumbled across the mat. "God, that felt good." He said while Fraser held the rope apart for him to climb through. Vecchio undid the laces on his one gloved hand and pulled the mitt off. Fraser helped him with the helmet.

"Ray, you're..."

"I know. I look appalling." He laughed again. "But, I feel good. I'm goin' to change." He stumbled off to the showers.

Vecchio looked at Fraser. Fraser looked back. Both men looked for Glen Brown. He was standing near the entrance waving them over.

"What gives?" Ray asked.

"Yer buddy, he's a tough little shit, ain't he?"

"So, I've been told." Fraser answered though Brown wasn't actually speaking to him.

"Came in real early," Brown continued, "Never seen 'im before. Starts hittin' the heavy bag right away. Got me t' hold it for 'im at first, then he just went at it on his own. Pounded the hell out of it with that one good hand uh his. Looked like he was workin' out the demons uh hell, ya know. Some guys do that. Get in a fight with their ole lady, come here an' work it off. In my day, ya just worked her off, but, hey, times change." Ben raised his eyebrows at this but said nothing. "Finally, he starts slowin' down. No matter how pissed a guy gets, sooner or later, he gets tired. So, I figure he's leavin'. Prob'ly woulduh too, except, those morons came in." He indicated Ray's opponent and observer. "The little one with the ice pack, that's Tommy Burton, he made some comment about Kowalski's size. Said he looked like an appetizer 'er some stupid thing like that. Kowalski challenges 'im right then to go in the ring. Tommy starts backin' off, sayin' he can't fight cuz he's only got one good hand. Kowalski just says he oughta be easy to beat then." Brown laughed. "An' he was right. Kowalski got a couple good hits in, but Tommy's a decent fighter with two hands. He knocked the crap out of 'im."

"Then how did he end up fighting the other guy?" Vecchio asked. Brown laughed again.

"Tommy needled 'im about losin' the fight cuz he's such a skinny fuck. Said he oughta go challenge somethin' small like a sapling. Truth be told, I'm surprised Tommy knew the word sapling. Anyway, Kowalski says he ain't challengin' a tree, he's challengin' Tommy's buddy. That brings up moron number two. Name's Malcolm White an' he's maybe a tad smarter than Tommy. An' he's a much better boxer. Course, your buddy's got no idea about that. He's just bein' stupid. An' that's about the time I called you."

"How did you know to call me?"

"Once he jumped in the ring with Tommy, I knew he was in trouble. Figgered somebody'd have t' take 'im home or t' the hospital. So, I went back in the lockers an' went through his stuff. Found his wallet. Now, there ain't no badge in there but there is a real nice picture uh him an' a pretty blond. He's all dressed in blues. Graduation, I'll bet. So, I look a little further an' he's got yer business card tucked in there."

"Really?"

"Why? You ain't a friend uh his?"

"You were right to call me. I'm just surprised he's cartin' my card around."

"Well, better take 'im home. He goes around pickin' fights, he'll get his clock cleaned but good."

"Yeah, we'll take 'im. He owe ya anything?"

"Nah, paid his fee up front. 'sides, I ain't had this much fun in weeks."

Tommy nudged Malcolm when Ray appeared from the locker room carrying his gym bag. He was dressed in a gray button down shirt tucked into clean blue jeans. A dark gray blazer completed the look. His face was red and bruised and his eye was swollen shut. He glanced at his opponents and nodded at them. He almost swaggered past. When he reached Vecchio and Fraser he was grinning.

"You ready?" He asked.

"Lead on." Fraser answered with a smile.

"I took a cab here, ya wanna gimme a ride over to the station?" He asked Vecchio.

"Where's your car?"

"Warehouse Electronics, prob'ly, unless Connors impounded it."

The three men climbed into the Riv. Kowalski settled in the back this time.

"So, you're feeling better?" Fraser asked.

"I feel great, Frase. The heavy bag under my hands, boxin', sparrin' with those idiots, God, it was great. I'm goin' back. Maybe a few times before I go back to work."

"Yer gonna have to pick a different gym. That place is under surveillance as much as it's not. Cops aren't suppose to hang there." Vecchio said.

"Well, there's another floor in my slide back down the police ladder."

"Maybe no one was watchin' today."

"Ah, I don't care. Let 'em yell. I'm on suspension anyway." Kowalski laughed again while he examined his wrapped fingers. "So, how'd you guys find me?"

"Owner called the station. Found my card in your wallet."

"He went through my wallet? Little bastard. Oh well, saves me takin' a cab t'see Connors."

"You know, Ray, you could have woken me. I would have been happy to accompany you."

"Sure I know. Didn't want company. Wanted to work some stuff out. Kinduh remind myself what I can do."

"And this helped?"

"Oh, yeah. I kicked that heavy bag's ass. Big, old inan...inani...inanimate, yea, inanimate object couldn't knock me out." He was laughing again. Even Fraser and Vecchio laughed at that.

They arrived at the station in good time. Ray told them not to wait. If his car was in impound, he'd drive it home. If it was still parked at the electronics store, he'd catch a cab to pick it up. Looking confident he walked through the glass doors.

At 5:15pm according to the clock in his office, Ben's phone rang. He finished signing off on the last in a series of passport applications from a Canadian Historical Group. They were visiting Chicago in a quest of Al Capone, apparently.

"Hey, Frase, I'm about a block away, you wanna do somethin' ?"

"I'd like that, Ray."

"Greatness. Be there in five."

He no sooner hung up then the phone rang again.

"Benny, my house is insane. Ya wanna get somethin' to eat?" Oh, dear.

"Actually, Ray, I just accepted an invitation from Detective Kowalski. Would you care to join us? I'm sure we'll eat."

"Yeah, all right. Where ya goin'?" Fraser suppressed the urge to sound surprised.

"I don't know yet. He's picking me up here."

"All right, I'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

Kowalski took slightly more time than expected. Vecchio took slightly less. Consequently, they arrived at nearly the same time. Fraser opened the locked Consulate door to find Kowalski knocking and Vecchio coming up the walk.

"I invited Ray to join us." Fraser said. Kowalski shrugged and the three men converged on Ben's office

Five minutes of discussion led to a decision. Kowalski and Fraser took the GTO, Vecchio took the Riv. They took different routes to their destination because both Rays felt they knew the best way and arrived again at the same time. Ben appraised the small sports bar. The outside was littered with neon signs framed by heavy rough wood. The front door was easily eight feet high with iron rods for handles. Vecchio pulled open the door and his companions entered ahead of him. The inside consisted of a long wide bar with round high backed chairs for seats. Two large screen TV's were suspended above the bar. Both were tuned to a basketball game. Several men in various apparel from dress slacks to blue jeans were sitting at the bar mostly staring at the televisions and drinking beer.

The three men waited near the door until a pretty woman with long hair bleached nearly white greeted them. She asked if they wanted a table. They did. She led them into the restaurant area and seated them. The menus were propped up behind the condiment tray.

Fraser took the chair near the wall so he could face out towards the room. Kowalski and Vecchio sat strategically to gain clear views of the other large screens TV's spread throughout the restaurant. These were also tuned to the basketball game. The Chicago Bulls were playing the Los Angeles Lakers. Vecchio glanced at the menu for a few moments then closed it. Kowalski did the same. Fraser read through the items carefully. Kowalski plucked the menu from his hand and laid it on the table.

"Don't worry about it. We know what to get."

"All right." Ben answered agreeably. In most instances he was willing to follow the natives in their customs.

A waitress showed up a few minutes later. She was dressed in blue jean shorts and a Cubs jersey that she tied just above her flat and narrow mid-riff. Her hair was brown with blond sections highlighted through it. She pulled a chair out from a nearby table and sat down just slightly separated from her customers. Vecchio and Kowalski grinned at her. Fraser watched them curiously.

"What can I get ya, fellas?' She asked.

"Three dozen buffalo wings, hot." Vecchio answered.

"A couple orders uh poppers and an order uh onion rings." Kowalski finished.

"And you, sir?" She asked with an open smile, giving Ben a clear indication of her real intent.

"I, uh, well..." Ben sputtered.

"That's for all of us, honey." Kowalski supplied. She turned her smile on him. The girl knew how to get tips.

"And to drink?"

"Couple pitchers uh draft. Whatever's on tap." Vecchio answered.

"Oh, yeah, and a pitcher uh water too." Kowalski said, nodding at Fraser.

Once she left the table, both detectives looked at Ben who was still blushing.

"Two perfectly good Chicago cops..." Kowalski said.

"An' she goes for the Mountie." Vecchio finished. They shook their heads in mock despair while Fraser tried to focus on the basketball game.

The three of them launched into general small talk for several minutes. Ben was pleasantly surprised at the lack of tension between them. Once the food arrived, there was little conversation for several minutes while they tore into their dinner. Fraser had never tried chicken wings or jalepeno poppers and was equally surprised by the spicy taste and by how much he liked them. They made short work of the food, then ordered another two dozen wings. Both Rays had decimated the two pitchers of beer and ordered a third.

Feeling relaxed now, Kowalski leaned forward on the table with his elbows while he mopped up the last of the bleu cheese dressing with an onion ring. Vecchio was sitting back, his legs stretched out long beneath the table and sipping his beer. Even Ben had sat back. His shoulders might even be considered hunched.

"So, how'd things go with Connors?" Vecchio asked.

"Told 'im I was sorry for bein' an ass and turned in a request for transfer."

"How'd he take it?"

"Confirmed I was an ass and was glad to sign off on the request. Told me not to bother reporting back. He'd have a new posting before the end uh the week." A pause followed while Fraser and Vecchio digested this. "Found out why he hates me though." Kowalski said. The other two men sat forward for this.

"So, spill it." Vecchio said.

"Thinks the Mountie turned me."

"Turned you?" Fraser asked, thinking he meant police corruption.

"You know, not playin' for the home team anymore." Fraser still didn't understand and Vecchio was just getting it.

"Yer gonna have to spell it out."

"He knew about Stella, Frase. Knew I was straight when I started at the 2-7. Figured if I was, you know...then it must be cuz uh you."

"Ah." Ben said and sat back.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do ya?"

"No."

"He thinks you're gay, Benny."

"As in..."

"He doesn't mean happy."

"Oh." Ben said. "Oh." More feeling this time. "But, why? I mean, what would make him...?"

"Rumors, I guess."

"Yeah, I heard 'em." Vecchio said.

"I don't understand."

"Look, Fraser, it's probably cuz yer not an American cop. We're partners but not in the regular way. We spend practically every minute together. You run like a rabbit from every woman ya meet, includin' Vecchio's sister who works at the station fer everyone t'see. Yer polite. I haven't really dated much since Stella, least nobody I'd see twice. I mean, it's not that big uh stretch." They gave him a moment to consider this information.

"And this doesn't bother you? Either of you?"

"Nah." Kowalski answered.

"People'll think what they think, Benny. Can't worry about it."

"But, Leftenant Connors has treated you very badly over this assumption."

"Well if he'd just asked, we coulduh cleared it up the first day."

"Yes, but Ray..."

"Don' worry about it, Fraser. Connors is a bigoted asshole. He don't like me cuz he thinks I got a thing for you? Jeez, how stupid is that. Next post I get I'll talk to the Lieu right out front an' avoid all this crap."

Changing the subject, Vecchio asked, "You put in a choice for where to transfer?"

"Homicide at the 2-7. Prob'ly won't get it but..."

"You wanna come back to the 27th?"

"Sure, why not, get a little threesome with the Mountie." He nudged Fraser playfully.

"Ray." Ben admonished.

"Sorry. Look, there's lots uh homicides in Chicago, we don't have t'work together." Vecchio didn't respond to that. He drank from his glass and set it down.

"And this whole deal with Nicole and Cavallaro?" he asked.

"Not yer fault. Didn't blame ya before an' I still don't."

"I didn't mean what I said before, you know, about cutting my losses." Kowalski answered carefully this time remembering his abject terror at the sound of desertion.

"I know that. I wasn't too sure at the time but ya did what needed doin'. Ya didn't leave me hangin'."

Ben listened quietly. He didn't follow all of it but he learned enough to guess.

"What about the rest of it? You done beatin' up defenseless clerks?" Vecchio asked, a tease in his voice. Kowalski chuckled before he answered. The seriousness came back in his voice.

"Yeah. See, I forgot somethin' last week. I remembered it about two this morning. I ain't the mopin' around type. I been sittin' around waitin' to feel better but I don't sit around waitin' for nothin'. I was dusting for God's Sakes. Even Stella never got me to dust." Ben smiled at this. "I get mad, I gotta hit somethin'. This mornin' I did."

"This morning, you got thumped."

"True. But, I also got t'hit somethin'. A lot."

The waitress returned with two fresh plates of wings and another pitcher of beer. Two detectives and a Mountie inhaled the new food while the Chicago Bulls pulled an easy victory over the Lakers.