Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Starship/6102/home.html

Author's disclaimer:
There once was a group in Toronto,
Who made the world's best TV show.
People, wolves, places, and plot,
All the rights they have got,
But here I can do what I want to!

Author's notes: Well, the boys started talking again last night, just before chat. They do that an awful lot, but this time, they were doing something a little different. They were just talking. No actions, no setting, just pure conversation swirling through my head. So I listened to them, and I transcribed. This story, as a result, is dialogue-only. You won't find a single descriptive word here that isn't spoken by either Fraser or Ray Vecchio. Hopefully, I have their voices down well enough that you can understand who's who, but if not....(holds out bucket) the otters go here, please.

"Have you ever done anything you regretted, Ray?"

"Sure, lotsa times."

"Really?"

"Of course, I mean, doesn't everybody?"

"Something you really, truly regretted?"

"Like letting you within fifty miles of my car?"

"No, Ray, I'm serious."

"Is this some kind of Mountie question?"

"Not really."

"What's going on here, Benny? You've got the wierdest look on your face."

"I was just wondering if you'd ever done anything you really, truly regretted."

"Well, yeah."

"Like what, Ray?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Why not?"

"I just wouldn't."

"I wouldn't think any less of you."

"Look, this is crazy. You brought up the whole damned subject in the first place, and now you're acting like I've got to confess to you. What the hell is going on here, Fraser?"

"Nothing, Ray. Never mind."

"No."

"No what?"

"No, I am not letting you get out of it this easy."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want an apology, Benny, I just want an explanation!"

"An explanation."

"Yeah. One of those things where you tell somebody just what you meant when you suddenly popped out with something even stranger than your usual strange."

"Ah."

"Ah is right."

"I was wondering..."

"Go on."

"Never mind."

"FRASER!"

"All right, all right. I was just wondering if you'd ever done anything that you really, honestly, deeply regretted. Something that kept you up at night, something branded on your soul."

"Why does this question sound annoyingly familiar?"

"I do."

"Excuse me? Whoa, whoa, did I hear that straight?"

"Hear what, Ray?"

"Mr. Perfect has a skeleton in his closet."

"Not precisely. I have clothes in my closet."

"You know what I mean, Benny. A dirty little secret...a hidden jaywalking ticket, a spit wad on the sidewalk."

"No, Ray."

"But you've done something. One of those regrettable somethings that you were trying to ask me if I've regretted."

"Well, yes."

"Does this have anything to do with that Victoria bitch?"

"No."

"Are you going to tell me what it is about?"

"Perhaps."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"An honest one."

"Why am I not surprised."

"I don't know, Ray, why aren't you?"

"Maybe because I've become strangely used to you saying things that most sane people would find completely unbelievable."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't apologize. The only thing more annoying than your being annoying is that you're always apologizing for being annoying."

"I'm sorry."

"FRASER!"

"Sorr-never mind."

"So what's this about?"

"Apologizing."

"No!"

"No?"

"No, it's not about apologizing. I mean what's all this other crap about?"

"What's what about?"

"Fraser, you have until the count of three to tell me exactly what it is you regret, or I am going to do something I may or may not regret when I hit you."

"Well in that case...I believe I derilicted my duty, Ray."

"You?"

"Yes."

"The guy who plays pigeon rest for hours in the melting heat and the freeze-ass cold."

"Yes."

"This I've got to hear."

"It was some years ago. It's...come back to haunt me, so to speak."

"Literally? Like your old man?"

"Not literally. But recently, while reading my father's journals, I have come across a similar case. One that, I feel, he handled with greater discretion than I."

"He tracked a polluting moose or something, right?"

"No, Ray, it was a suspect. A human suspect. One that my father chose to let go."

"What? I didn't think you Mounties did that!"

"Upon occasion, Ray, it is only prudent to cease chasing a suspect. In this case, it put innocent lives at risk, and my father concluded that the suspect - an embezzler - was of less danger than the pursuit itself."

"So this dirty little secret is a family thing. One of the Fearless Frasers didn't get his man."

"No, Ray, not at all. My father's actions were actually deemed officially quite heroic for his understanding of priorities. Mine, on the other hand, were rather less measured."

"Yeah?"

"I was twenty-one at the time, ten weeks after my graduation from the Academy - "

"Oh, the voice of experience, then."

"Please, Ray, there is no need for sarcasm."

"I was chasing my first suspect. A poacher. The man had killed three grizzly bears...their teeth and claws have quite a significant black market value. I was working with Constable Steven Chisolm, and we-"

"Whoa, did you say 'Steve'?

"Yes, Ray. Why?"

"Never mind, go on."

"We tracked him up towards Franklin Bay, and the weather began to worsen. I wanted to continue the pursuit, but Steve believed it too risky. He was a Constable with over ten years experience, but I felt I had the advantage in the arctic. I chastized him for being willing to allow a lawbreaker to escape the hands of justice. I believe I laid what you call a guilt trip."

"You're good at those."

"Unfortunately so. I was quite likely that the offender was already dead, considering the conditions into which he had already proceeded, but I felt a duty to bring him back, dead or alive. Like my father always did. At that time, I thought he had never abandoned a prisoner. It was...a family tradition. Not the motto perhaps, but for a Fraser not to get his man - and to fail on his first case, when his purpose was to prove himself - it was incomprehensible, Ray. I told Steve that if he would not accompany me, I would go ahead on my own. He went with me. He didn't want to abandon me. He didn't."

"So you two headed up into the frozen armpit of creation. Did you get the guy?"

"No."

"Then you let him go?"

"No."

"So..."

"We located his pack, and his footprints leading to the edge of a cravasse. There was blood on the ice walls. We assumed he fell to his death...the cravasse was over three hundred feet deep. So we turned back, back into the teeth of the blizzard that by that time had closed in. We couldn't see our hands in front of our faces. Steve...was unprepared. He was an experienced peace officer, but he was accustomed to city duty. Warmer weather."

"In Canada? You've got to be kidding."

"He was from Vancouver, Ray."

"Oh, practically Tahiti."

"Compared to Franklin Bay, yes."

"But you're practically an Eskimo, Benny. I mean, you knew what to do and all."

"I did my best, but I couldn't...I didn't...I shouldn't have...oh dear."

"Oh my God, Benny...I'm sorry."

"He froze to death, Ray. He couldn't walk after a while, and I put him on the sled. I went as fast as I could, but I couldn't *see*. I reached the outpost in record time, and I thought I'd made it. I honestly did...I'd made calculations. His body temperature, the wind chill. He should have made it."

"But he didn't."

"I hadn't counted on his responses. He felt hot - a symptom of hypothermia - and he removed his hood. I didn't even notice. The majority of body heat escapes through the scalp. It threw off my calculations."

"Damn."

"I was so determined to get this man, that I ignored the life of another. I do hope you understand how this would provide a certain degree of regret, Ray."

"No kidding! For God's sakes, didn't you tell anyone?"

"Of course. I made a full confession to my Inspector. I insisted on a court martial. He wouldn't give it to me. He belived that the events weren't my fault. He said I was young, trying to do my duty. That "my heart was in the right place" and that "it could have happened to anyone."

"Benny, he was right...as much as you hate to believe it and all, you are human. You know, flawed."

"Flawed."

"Yeah, Benny, the 'f-word.'"

"It's not funny."

"No, it's not."

"I killed a man."

"And you were how old? Eighteen?"

"Twenty-one."

"Big difference. You were a rookie, and rookies are entitled to screw up."

"Not when it costs a life."

"Look, Fraser, I guarantee you, that was not killing a guy. That was a stupid decision. There's a difference."

"While I agree, Ray, that I may not have actively commited an act of homicide, I did make neglegent decisions that eventually led to Constable Chisolm's death. It's something I'm going to have to live with the rest of my life."

"Join the club."

"We're talking about a life, Ray. A human life that ended because of me. Did you know he was going to be married in six months? Her name was Samantha. She was twenty-four years old, in medical school, one hundred and sixty centimeters tall, with brown eyes and red hair. She --"

"Stop it!"

"Ray..."

"The guy is dead, Benny. He's been dead for almost fifteen years now. You read some dusty old diary your father wrote, and now you're beating yourself up over something you did by accident when you were a kid. You have no damned right."

"What do you mean, I have no right? For pete's sake, Ray, I --"

"Didn't mean to! You didn't look at that guy and decide - I mean really decide - that he wasn't fit to share the same planet with you. You didn't look at some goomba pointing a gun at him and turn away. You didn't decide that if the guy with the gun missed, you'd plug him."

"What are you talking about?"

"I did, ok! You wanted to know if there's something I regretted? Huh, Benny? You wanted to know? Well, I'll tell you. I killed a guy too. And I didn't just accidentally let him go popsicle either. I killed him. I looked down the barrel of my gun, and I let another guy blow his brains out so that I wouldn't have to. Then I let the guy who shot him walk away. I didn't try to get myself kicked out over it either, because the bastard deserved it."

"No one deserves to die without a trial, Ray."

"This son of a bitch did. His name was Langoustini, Antonio Langoustini. He was a hit man for the Iguana family."

"A hired killer?"

"Yeah, but not just any hit man. "The Butcher" would do anyone, any way. I mean, most guys, even in that business, they've got their limits. But not Langoustini. He'd run your grandmother through a meat grinder if you paid him enough. His brother, Armando "the Bookman" ran the business side for him. Lined up the customers. You call the Bookman, and the Butcher will have them down with Mort by the end of the day."

"And you were assigned to investigate these men?"

"You could say that. I think it was somebody's idea of a sick joke. First time I saw those sickos, it was like lookin' into a mirror. I'm telling you, Benny, they coulda been my brothers."

"On the outside, Ray, there may have been a physical resemblance, but I assure you, that emotionally and spiritually, you're one of the most upstanding individuals I know."

"Yeah, well, you didn't get to see me play with the Langoustini brothers. I ran a case down on the South Side...up and coming young mob guy had been getting a little too eager, pushin' in where he didn't belong without paying his dues. Someone wanted him whacked. They called the Langoustini boys, and the Butcher came in and splattered the guy's brains all over his living room wall. But that didn't piss me off, Benny. I mean, I'd seen mob hits before."

"Homicide is homicide, Ray. I fail to see the difference between a crime-related and --"

"He shot the little girl, Benny. The guy's little girl came into the room and he shot her. God, she was just lying there...she looked like an angel. A damned angel, like the kind Ma hangs up at Christmas, with the blonde curls and the long eyelashes. She had these pink slippers with little bows, the same kind Frannie used to wear when she was little. And he just shot her...I found her lying there on the couch like she'd fallen asleep watching cartoons or something, but her whole chest was just gone. The son of a bitch...she was four years old, damn it. Four years old."

"I'm terribly - "

"Don't!"

"Don't what?"

"Don't say you're sorry! You don't get it. You just don't get it. I went out there, and I was all over the Butcher's ass. I didn't sleep for almost a week, I was so pissed. I just wanted to kill him, Benny. I wanted to shove my gun up his ass and blow a hole clear through to his brains."

"That's a perfectly understandable attitude, Ray. Mr. Langoustini had committed an extremely emotional crime and --"

"And when I found him, I found them both. I was outside the window, and they were having some kind of argument. I was gonna radio in, but I said to myself, 'no, Ray, let's see how this goes.' So I watched them, and then the Bookman pulls out this gun. Real bastard of a sawed-off shotgun, and he starts screamin'. Not about the little girl, hell no, what does that matter to those bastards. Seems Antonio had stiffed him on part of the fee. So they yell some more, and I'm thinking maybe I should go in, maybe I should call for backup, maybe I should stop them. But I don't. I just sit there, and I watch, and I decide that if Armando doesn't blow the bastard to kingdom come, I will. To hell with backup. It must have been fifteen minutes before the Bookman did it. Blew his brother's head clean off. And I turned away, Benny. I just turned away and left. Some other cop found the Butcher's body later. It was ruled unsolved. But I knew. I knew, and I never said anything."

"Ray..."

"So you want a regret, Benny? You want a regret? Yeah, I got a regret. I regret that I didn't shoot him first, and I regret that I didn't shoot his son of a bitch brother after that, and I regret that I didn't have the guts to say that it was the damned Bookman who killed his own brother. I regret it because it's not over."

"There does come a time when we all have to live with our regrets. Whether our roles were...active...or not."

"This is rich! Now you're the one lecturing me on letting things go?"

"Perhaps it would be beneficial if we both...allowed release."

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Why not."

"Because I'm not gonna let him walk."

"Well if I'm not mistaken, Ray, you already 'let him walk.'"

"Yeah. That time. But it's not over, Benny, and I'm not gonna let it be over until I've closed the book on the Bookman. It's a justice thing. You Mounties should be pretty good at that."

"I certainly understand the need for justice, but do you think that --"

"I don't think, Benny. I know. I know that slime is out there somewhere, and he's probably got a new rat to book for. He's out there, and I'm gonna get him someday, one way or another."

"No, Ray."

"What the hell do you mean by 'no'? What? You can have your little Mountie guilt trips, and that's ok, because everybody's dead but you, but if I want to see someone dead who *belongs* in hell, then I'm not worthy? Only Mounties are worthy of guilt? Worthy of never letting it drop til they get their man? Is that what this is about, Fraser?!"

"No, it's not. You are perfectly justified in your sentiments, whether or not I happen to agree with your methodology. The simple fact of the matter, however, is that I am not going to allow you to 'get' Mr. Langoustini."

"You're gonna try and stop me?"

"No. I am going to continue to accompany you in your law enforcement duties, and if the opportunity arises to ever encounter Mr. Langoustini, I will do everything I can to help see him brought to justice."

"Would you help me kill him?"

"I would help you bring him to the proper authorities."

"What if I killed him?"

"I would hope you wouldn't, Ray."

"But if I did?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know."

"I don't know."

"Is that the best I'm gonna get from you?"

"Yes."

"Ok."

"I'm sorry."

"What did I tell you..."

"Ah. Yes. I'm -- never mind."

"Smart move."

"Yes, Ray."

"Benny?"

"Yes?"

"I think I've thought of something else I regret."

"What would that be."

"This conversation."

"Ah, well I might have to agree on certain aspects of that assessment."

"Is that a yes, Benny?"

"Yes, Ray, that is a yes."

"Then let's drop this, ok?"

"Ok."

"Did you bring some cards or something?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't."

"This is going to be a hell of a long stakeout."

"Quite likely."

THE END