Jessie, here. Hello. As very, very few of you probably know, I am in the midst of a dark, depressing, disturbing series. -This being sporratically interupted by fits of even more horrid stuff that "Gothic" does not even begin to descibe.- This, however, is not a part of the "Secrets" series, nor is it dark and depressing. In fact, it's downright jovial! There is a slight warning for some Kowalski-bashing, and a bit of mild m/m. I must say that I enjoyed myself MUCH more with this thing, and I don't even hate myself, now that it's done! And it is done. All except the disclaimers, which I'm just about to start on...

Disclaimers: They're not mine. Not a single one. Not even the stupid one with the spikey hair. Please don't sue me. It's not polite to sue a starving artist. (Jessie's starving artist comment is followed shortly behind by a low, rumbling sound from somewhere within her torso)

Okay! Done with the boring stuff! On to the better stuff! (or worser, if your a Kowalski fan)

Hello, Stranger

Or: They Only Attack The Ones They Love

"...Actually, Ray, I find it quite obvious that Ms. Malone was not involved with the bank robbery at all. The evidence that you collected was all circumstancial, anyway. You see, the tiny speck of mud I found outside of that chinese restaurant halfway across town proves that-"

"Fraser?"

Ben stopped his monalogue to give his full attention to his companion. "Yes, Ray?"

"You're babbling. Like a brook"

"Oh." For a moment, the Mounite looked startled. Then he just blushed. "Sorry, Ray."

Ray Kowalski smiled dimly at his partner's mortification. How he'd managed to get paired with such an straight-laced, uptight, inhumanly perfect guy was still a bit beyond his limited comprehension. How anyone could be so... stiff... was simply unknown territory to the "somewhat" less inhibited Chicagoian.

"That's okay, Frays. Just lay off the logic for a bit. We're both off duty, comprende?"

"Understood." More stiff, formal, "Canadian" behavior. Just one of the many things Kowalski knew he was never going to understand.

The two men continued down the darkened street in silence, followed shortly behind by a wolf that seemed more than a little bored with his present situation. One man walked with beautiful posture, the other just sort of... slumped along. They made quite an interesting picture.

Kowalski took advantage of the quiet to ponder what had brought the two of them to this point. Well, alright- "ponder" might not have been the word... More like mental bitching-and-moaning, but it was as close as this guy was ever going to get.

In keeping with the "Vecchio" facade, he and Fraser were on there way to eat out. Due to Chicago's mysterious lack of parking space, and a certain Mountie's infuriating refusal to let him park illegally, they had left the GTO two WHOLE blocks behind them. The resturaunt was now in sight, and Kowalski was near to fainting with relief (not to mention fatigue). Fraser was just as cheerful as ever, acting as if the horrendously long walk had been nothing.

Up ahead, a pair of men came out of the resturaunt and began walking towards them. Normally, the somewhat obtuse detective wouldn't have noticed a thing, except for the fact that the pair was arguing furiously in a mixture of English and what sounded to his very untrained ears like Spanish. Here was the one thing he had a definate instict about- 'Gonna be a fight! Gonna be a fight! Gonna get to kick some heads! Gonna be a fight!' He mentally danced around in circles.

Before Kowalski could move, Dief darted between his legs, sending him sprawling to the sidewalk. As he fell, he saw the wolf make a flying leap onto the taller of the two men, setting him flying as well. As Ray made a desperate attempt to regain his feet, his thoughts were racing. 'Guy musta had a gun, or something, for Dief to act like that! He knocked me down. me!' he was more than a bit startled to find the wolf sitting on the downed man's chest, licking his face and whining like crazy. He turned to look at Fraser, who was just standing there, staring. There was an expressionon his face that Kowalski had never seen there before. 'What is that? Suprise? Fear? What?' The unnamed emotion was quickly bottled up as the Mountie ran to help.

Both men were shouting and cursing in a mix of English and whatever the hell language they had been talking in before. "Call off the dog!" -they both cried out at once. Then- "Armondo, you okay?" -from the shorter man. "Armondo" answered by barreling to his feet, sending the over-affectionate wolf flying. He was ranting, wide-eyed, about wolf hair and Armani suits.

"I'm so sorry, sir! He is usually much better behaved with strangers. I really don't know what could have gotten into him-" Fraser's apollogy was cut to a rather abrupt yelp as "Armondo" grabbed a handful of flannel and yanked him into an alleyway, making a great show of waving his gun about in the process.

It suddenly (okay, not so suddenly) occured to Kowalski that maybe the men had been speaking Italian before, which would, of course, desegnate them as mafiaso. "Gun!" He shouted like a total idiot, and drew his, just as the other mobster did the same. The two stood stupidly blinking at each other until Dief collected himself enough to pounce on the other guy in a not-so-overly-affectionate sort of way.

In the midst of all this chaos, Kowalski became more than a bit confused. It took him a moment to process the unusually high level of sensory input. Then he remembered. "I'm comming, Frays!" He bolted around the corner to find- Not a dead Mountie. Not an injured Mountie. Not a Mountie in the middle of a fist fight. Instead he found-

Drumroll, please! (Thank you, kindly)

-A Mountie being kissed sensless by a tall, balding, Italian guy with an oddly endearing profile. Kowalski's confusion returned with unprecidented force. "Frays? Hey, Frays?" His attempts to pry the two men appart were rewarded by a knockout punch delivered to his jaw.

Kowalski later woke to find that Dief had ripped his throat out while he slept, and his once partner had disappeared with "Armondo" into the wild, blue, Canadian yonder. Having no paternal ghost to show him the ropes, he quickly became more lost and confused than ever before. The ex-Ray spent the rest of eternity "pondering" that odd expression he had seen on the Mountie's face, just before his death. He "pondered" until his immortal soul was driven insane. Had he possesed enough sense of mind, it might have occured to him to just ask. He didn't, but I won't leave you hanging. It was the one expression that had never crossed Benny's face in his presence.

It was a smile.

THE END

Believe it or not, I wrote this whole thing during the course of a normal school day, while I really should have been studying my Latin. Oh well. This was more fun.

I'm desperate for human contact! Send comments to chow_mein_noodles@yahoo.com, and I promise that I'll return the favor next time I read one of yours.