This is not a fixit story. It is more of a "venting my spleen" story. It was a very cathartic and fun experience for me writing it, and having done so, I feel MUCH better. I intend no offense by this story (well, not to the fans, anyway), and hope you will take it in the spirit intended and enjoy it. Oh, the story also does some serious messing with reality, so be prepared.

These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Alliance. No copyright infringement intended; so please don't sue.

Rated PG for a few bad words.

I'LL FIX YOU!

The two weasely television executives sat side by side at the conference table, reading the latest ratings report and chortling. It was a beautiful spring day, and one of the executives looked out at the sun shining among fluffy white clouds in the beautiful blue sky and smiled. He turned to the other weasely executive. "I want to do something fun. Let's mess with a TV show."

"Good idea!" Cackled the other executive. "I know what! Let's replace one of the lead actors on one of our shows. But instead of having a smooth, logical transition that will make things easy on the fans, let's make it as difficult and painful as possible!"

"Ooh! I like this idea! But I know a way we can make it even better! If a re-cast is harder on anyone other than the fans, it's the new actor coming on to the show. There has got to be a way we can make things extra uncomfortable for him!"

"Brilliant!" Cried the other weasel. "You are a genius! And... hey! There is a way we can do it. We've done it before, remember?"

"Oh, yeah..." The first weasely executive sat back in his chair, a fond, happy smile crossing his little weasel face.

Just then the intercom on the phone buzzed. "Excuse me," came the voice of a secretary. "There are two... gentlemen here to see you."

"We don't want to see anyone." One of the weasels snapped.

"Oh, they'll see us." Came a voice through the speaker.

A few seconds later, the door opened and two men stepped inside. They were approximately the same height, but all resemblance ended there. One of the men was balding, with green eyes and a prominent nose. The other had blue eyes, and while his hair was plentiful, it was... interesting. It was blond and stood up from his head in short spikes.

"Hi, boys." Grinned the balding man.

The other man turned and locked the door.

"Sirs? Do you want me to call security?" The secretary asked through the intercom.

"No, Mary Sue, that's all right." One of the weasels said.

"Hi." Said the green eyed man, crossing to stand opposite them at the table. "My name is Ray Vecchio."

"And my name is Ray Kowalski." Said the blond man. "You got that? Ko-wal-ski."

The two weasely executives sat blinking at them for a moment, then one raised his little weasely voice "Do we know you from somewhere?"

The man named Kowalski turned to the one named Vecchio. "Do you hear this shit?"

"I hear it, but I don't believe it." Vecchio turned to look at the weasels. "You should know us. You messed up both our lives!"

The first executive's eyes widened suddenly, and he whispered something to the other executive, who swallowed heavily.

"Of course we remember you." The first weasel said soothingly.

"Hey, wait!" Piped up the second. "You two are fictional characters! How can you be here?"

The blond Ray shook his head. "They just don't get it, do they?" He asked his partner.

"No, but what did you expect?" Ray Vecchio looked back at the two executives. "OK, so you had to send me off on an undercover assignment. That's fine. I can appreciate that. It's a little bit obvious, but... I can even learn to live with the cliche of the Italian cop infiltrating the Mafia."

Kowalski made a noise of disgust and rolled his eyes, and Vecchio smiled at him gratefully. "But why did you have to have Stanley Raymond here come on and pretend to be me? I don't get it."

"We had to have a new character..." One of the weasels said weakly.

"I know that. But Kowalski is a very vibrant, fascinating, wonderful character in his own right. Why didn't you just have him come on the show as the new contact at the precinct? As himself? Why saddle him with all that extra baggage?"

"Well..." Whined the first executive. "We don't write the show, you know."

"No, you don't." Agreed Vecchio. "But you do have control over it. That makes you guilty."

"Look at us!" Said Kowalski. "Do we look anything alike?"

"Well, you are the same height." Began one of the weasels. "And you are both skinny- er, uh, lean."

"Shut up." Said Vecchio mildly.

The weasely executive stopped talking instantly. Ray Kowalski plopped down into a chair and put his feet up on the conference table. "So, we have Vecchio here, born and raised in Chicago. He goes on assignment and is replaced by- me. Born and raised in Chicago. Did it not occur to either one of you morons that I just might possibly run into someone who knew either me or Vecchio? Both of our covers could have been blown just that easily."

"Yeah." Said Vecchio. "And that would have put me in a bit of trouble, but what about Kowalski? Even if the mob couldn't get to me right away, they would have for damn sure gone after the one person they could find. Stan the Man could have been killed!"

"My God!" Stan said, his eyes widening. "That's right! You bastards could have killed me!" He jumped back up to his feet and stood glaring down at the two weasely executives, who by now were shaking in their cheap polyester suits.

"Don't be ludicrous." One of the weasels said, his voice cracking slightly. "We would never have done that."

"Oh, I feel so much better." Said Kowalski sarcastically. "Because I know the two of you would certainly never lie." Vecchio laughed. Kowalski smiled at him, then whirled back on the executives.

"And what about Vecchio? Did you not think that abandoning his own identity and going deep undercover as a member of the mob would cause him some serious trauma? That it might mess him up just a little?" The weasels just looked at him blankly.

"You guys suck." Pronounced Kowalski.

"Why thank you, Ray!" Said Vecchio warmly.

"No, thank you Ray." Replied Kowalski. The two men smiled at each other.

"Wait a minute!" Said one of the executives. "I thought you two hated each other!"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Snapped Kowalski. "Sure, there was some natural bitterness and resentment between us at first. But then we decided that we would do better to unite against our common enemy." Both Rays turned happy smiles on the two weasels.

"It was the most fun I'd had in a long time." Vecchio said, a note of fond remembrance in his voice. "Making plans, weighing options..." He sighed happily.

"All those late-night planning sessions." Added Kowalski. "Who ever knew that Polish Kielbasa could go so well with Italian wine?" The two men just gazed at each other for a few moments, then Kowalski broke eye contact and turned back to face the two executives.

"I wanted to shoot you both in the kneecaps." He told them. The two weasels cringed even further down in their seats.

"But Mr. Humanitarian here said no. He said even if you completely deserve it, we shouldn't do anything that violent. I think he even actually used the words 'bad karma'."

Vecchio shrugged slightly. "Besides, the pain you caused us was not physical. Well, not for the most part." He paused to give each of the executives a dirty look. "No, the pain you caused us was emotional pain. Psychic pain. We needed to make you understand that. At first we thought there was nothing we could do to inflict that kind of suffering on you. I've gotta tell you, it was pretty depressing."

"But then we came up with a plan." Said Kowalski, smiling as happily as a kid with a new ten speed bike. "The perfect plan."

He and Vecchio grinned at each other, then walked over and unlocked the door. Kowalski stuck his head through the door and spoke to someone on the other side. He stepped back a little, and a tall dark haired man in the full dress uniform of a Mountie entered.

The three men spoke quietly among themselves for a minute or two, then they all broke into laughter. The two Rays left the conference room and the Mountie locked the door behind them. He crossed the office and sat down in a chair opposite the two executives.

"Hello, my name is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." He took a deep breath and smiled at them. "Shall we begin?"

Out in the reception area, Ray Vecchio shifted in his seat and glanced at the clock on the wall. Ray Kowalski followed his gaze. "He's been in there a long time."

Vecchio nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Over three hours." The two men looked at each other and grinned.

It was just a few minutes later that the door opened and Fraser stepped through. Ray and Ray stood up and hurried over to him.

"Well?"

"How did it go?"

Fraser smiled happily. Rather than looking tired or worn out he looked relaxed, almost invigorated. "It went very well." He told them, sounding pleased. "I did just as you asked. I told them every Inuit story I ever told either of you. Then I told them three stories I never told you. And then, just because I was having so much fun, I made up a story off the top of my head and told them that one, too."

Vecchio and Kowalski crossed over and peeked inside the conference room. The first executive was sitting staring into space, a numb, glazed expression on his face.

The second had his face buried in his hands and was weeping piteously. "Never again." He could be heard mumbling. "I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

Vecchio and Kowalski looked at each other and smiled. "Well I don't know about you, but I feel a lot better." Vecchio said.

"Oh, absolutely." Agreed Kowalski. "So, what do you say, Ray? Wanna go grab a beer?"

"Excellent idea, Ray. I'd love to."

Fraser obligingly held the door open for his two friends as they left the office with their arms draped casually around each other's shoulders.

The End