Rating/Warning: PG. Mild language.
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Alliance. *weep, sob*
Spoilers: none
Summary: Ray's wired, Fraser's tired, and all goes to hell.
Notes: This is the 2nd in two companion pieces by me and Ashinae aka Jenn, but this *is* the original and what started it all, but of course chronologically, this is *after* Ashinae's. Hopefully you enjoy it :)

You know it ;) Feedback at go_bananak@yahoo.com

SLEEPLESS IN CHICAGO 2 - July, 2000
by Jo

They were late. Fifteen minutes as far as Benton Fraser could tell. He had lost his watch. His father's standard, Mountie-issue, irreplaceable watch. Well, not in the way that lost meant in most instances. It was not misplaced, because he knew quite well where it was. On the wrist of his friend, Ray Kowalski--his unofficial partner Ray *Vecchio*--and despite Fraser's best efforts, Ray seemed quite adamant in keeping it.

Sixteen minutes. He was sure of it. He looked at Ray--his *friend*, still wearing his watch almost proudly--who was standing at the side of the window, looking out towards the building opposite them. The headset was long forgotten, it being late at night--rather, early in the morning--and the subject of surveillance had long ago fallen asleep. The snores that emitted from the earphones had proved that hours ago.

Seventeen and one-half. Fraser wanted Ray to speak, wondering if he realised what time it was. *He could certainly be able to tell, wearing two watches, after all,* Fraser thought, casting a bitter glare at his partner's exposed arm bearing the two wrist watches.

Nineteen. "Ray, have you realised that--"

"Yeah, Frase, I have. Pretty weird, huh?"

"Well, yes. I suppose you could call it weird. Then again, they could be detained."

"Nah, they're probably just stuck somewhere."

Fraser just stared at Ray. "Exactly."

Ray had begun to make his way through the room, stretching his arms, and rolling his head back. He looked down at Diefenbaker, who lay on the floor, next to a half-eaten bagel. Ray bent down to scratch Dief's ears, but the wolf didn't move.

"Man, that wolf is zonked. Christ, Frase, you must be too! It's probably way past your bedtime!" Ray exclaimed, checking both of his watches.

Twenty-four minutes. "Yes, Ray, I am pretty *zonked* as you put it. I could tell you how much past my bedtime it is, but unfortunately I have no earthly means of telling the time." He looked pointedly at Ray's arm. "I'm sure you have no problem with that, hmm?"

"Nope." Ray shook his head, ignoring the obvious hint for a minute while he looked up at the ceiling, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Then he sighed. "Are you gonna keep goin' on about this, Frase? I mean, c'mon, you *gave* it to me, remember?" He sat at the small portable table, putting his head between his hands.

"I did not *give* you my father's watch, Ray. I let you see it. There's a difference."

"I distinctly remember you sayin, 'Sure Ray, try it on, I'm sure it'll fit, it would probably look good on you.' Now, why would you say that if you weren't hinting that I should have it?" Ray was teasing, of course, but the look on Fraser's face was priceless. The Mountie could be so gullible sometimes.

"Ray, you are taking things a little too literally tonight--" Fraser began, but was cut off by a banging on the door.

Twenty-nine minutes after their scheduled appearance, Detectives Jack Huey and Tom Dewey came to relieve two exhausted law enforcement officers and a sleeping half-wolf.

Ray Kowalski aka Ray Vecchio got to have the couch. He only had to claim dibs on the couch once, and his unofficial partner Benton Fraser nodded, quickly spreading out his bedroll on the floor beside it, and left to use the bathroom. The room was too small for any other alternative, and it was too much of a nuisance to have to drive the both of them home, only to come back for their next shift.

Ray got up when he heard the bathroom door open. He saw that Fraser had noted the heat in the tiny room, since it was summer. The Mountie had discarded his sweltering uniform and white undershirt, leaving only his white boxer shorts, that Ray was sure Fraser starched and ironed regularly. Ray shook his head, pushing away his thoughts of the Mountie's underwear, and walked past him to use the can. When he got back, clad in his dark blue boxers and a grey undershirt, Fraser had already laid down and had his eyes closed.

Sighing, Ray tried in vain to quietly step around the Mountie, but ended up stumbling and launching himself onto the couch with a crash, narrowly missing landing right on Fraser. As Ray took in a breath and let it out in relief, one of Fraser's eyes popped open and was looking at him.

"Sorry," Ray said.

The eye closed, and Fraser nodded. He breathed in sharply, and slowly exhaled, resting his head on his shoulder. Ray leaned over and flicked off the light.

For a moment, all that was heard was the low whir of the old ceiling fan, and once in a while the muffled laughter from the two Detectives down the hall. For a moment, it was quiet.

Then...

"Hey, Frase?"

"Mm-yes, Ray?"

"Do you really think this guy we're watchin' is in cahoots with that Valencino guy?"

Fraser opened his eyes. "I have yet to form an opinion, Ray, though Leftenant Welsh seems to believe so."

"Yeah, I guess. I s'pose we'll see tomorrow, huh?"

"Hopefully, if the meeting is still scheduled for tomorrow." Fraser looked over at his sprawled out partner, and satisfied with the silence he received, Fraser once again closed his eyes.

The whirring of the fan was almost hypnotic, and haziness had enveloped Fraser's senses once more. Fuzzy images began to swim in his mind, and his breathing was deepening by the second.

Silence.

Then...

"Hey Frase, I forgot to tell you somethin' that happened to me today, you'll get a kick outta this, let me tell ya... Fraser? Frase!"

"Hmm-what?"

"Somethin' funny happened to me today."

"Could this not wait for morning, Ray?" Fraser asked mildly. This case certainly had Ray more excited than usual. It seemed that the blond Detective could not stop talking that evening.

"Well, I might forget, and since you're not asleep yet..." Ray had sat up, and was now looking down at Fraser.

Fraser sighed the sigh of a tired man. "Very well, Ray, what happened today that will propel me to 'get a kick'," Fraser mimicked, propping his head up with his hands.

"Well, I was walkin' to that coffee shop, you know the little one down the street from work? You know the one, don't you?"

Fraser pondered at the relevancy of this questioning and resolved to tell a little white lie.

"Yes."

"Yeah, well, I was walkin' in to order a coffee. Y'know, just plain old coffee. Y'see it's the only place around here that still sells real coffee, not the *espresso* shit, y'know? *Real* coffee. The station today was serving some maple nut crunch crap that made the whole place reek like waffles, y'know?"

"Ray," Fraser began slowly, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, "I am tired. No, I apologise, I am *extremely* tired, so maybe if I remind you, you could tell me tomorr--"

"Frase, I'll get to the good part, sheesh, I don't get on yer back when you go off on yer Inuit stories."

Fraser let that blatant lie pass. "All right, continue."

"Anyways, like I was sayin' before being so *rudely* cut off, I walked in and ordered a coffee, right? And I was just talkin' with the kid behind the counter all friendly-like, and I see somethin' out of the corner of my eye. This really great lookin' woman is walkin' by and she looks at me, and--get this--she just looks at me and then starts chokin' on 'er coffee, or tea, or whatever she's having."

Fraser waited but Ray said nothing more. "And...?" Fraser trailed off, expecting more of the story to reveal itself.

"That's it."

"I see."

"Ain't that funny?"

Fraser frowned. "All right, I don't see. Ray, why is it funny?"

"You don't think it's funny? I mean weird and all. I mean, what does it mean, when somebody looks at'cha and starts chokin on their drink?"

Fraser sighed a sigh of exhausted exasperation. "I haven't the faintest idea, Ray, but perhaps we could discuss the various meanings when there is light outside, hmm?" And with that, Fraser turned on his side facing away from the blond man.

Fraser had worried that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep as quickly as before, but was happily mistaken as the deep drowsiness set in and his awareness slipped away into a serene oblivion. The silence was heavy and thick and Fraser was just about off, when...

"All I'm sayin' Frase, is that it's weird, y'know? I mean, does that mean she thought I was scary, y'know, like Frankenstein, or that I was hot, in which case I shoulda given her my number?"

Fraser didn't move. He hoped that if he didn't respond, that Ray would respect that he might have fallen asleep and not try and wake him, after all, it was quite late--early--and Ray was surely going to have to sleep sometime.

However...

"So, what d'ya think? Fraser? Frase?"

"Ray, it is 'Frankenstein's monster'. 'Frankenstein' was the scientist, not the creation."

"Hey, I thought you were tired! How come you're nitpickin' so early in the mornin?"

Fraser almost laughed out loud. "Ray, I don't know what the woman was choking on. Whether it was your ugliness, your beauty, or her own throat misbehaving, I don't believe it has any relevance to this exact particular moment when I am attempting to get some sleep. So, if you don't mind too much, I am going to try again to fall asleep. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah sure Frase, whatever you say... a person's throat misbehaves?"

"Ray..." Fraser's voice had a deadly, ominous tone to it.

"Right, sorry." Ray laid back down, his head cradled by his hands. "I just thought it was queer, that's all... Frase?"

Silence.

"Fraser," Ray whispered.

"Ray, really," Fraser began. He was really loosing his patience at this early hour.

"I'm sorry I teased ya about yer watch. I'm takin' it off now," he told the Mountie. "Here, take it."

Fraser grunted as he reached up and felt the leather band in his hand.

"Thank you, Ray."

"You're welcome, Frase."

"Good night, Ray."

"Yeah, Frase. Night."

Fraser finally arranged himself to be comfortable again when...

"Hey Frase?"

"What?" Fraser hissed back.

"Is ugliness a real word?"

Just as Ray said the last word he was assaulted by a flying boot Fraser had hurled at him.

"Ow, Frase! Jesus! I'm sorry, good night!"

"Thank you," Fraser grunted, satisfied by his rather unorthodox approach. Smiling, he breathed in a few more deep breaths and set back to work on trying to sleep.

Then it began.

First it started as a few innocent roll-overs, probably in the attempt to get more comfortable on the small couch that the man had wanted to sleep on. Fraser much better preferred the floor.

Ray then began to drum his palms on his blanketed stomach. Fraser wouldn't have minded so much, if the blanket wasn't made of the vinyl acrylic material that made each beat almost echo through the room.

To top it all off, Ray started making tiny little pop noises with his mouth. Fraser would hear three little 'pops' in a row, and then lie there, waiting for the next one. After an impossibly long moment after Fraser had hoped that Ray had finally dozed off, there would be another 'pop'.

Fraser gritted his teeth. What did he do to deserve this? His thoughts made a picture in his mind of a night at the Vecchio household many, many months ago.

*Am I being punished? Is this what I truly deserve?*

A few more turns and beats on the stomach and Fraser was envying the wolf's deafness.

A few more 'pops' and Fraser was regretting leaving his gun at the border.

Then silence. Five whole minutes of absolute silence. Fraser could have jumped for joy, if he weren't about to pass out.

Then...

"Fraser? You still awake?"

Fraser thought for a minute. It had been a while after he had assaulted Ray. He could just ignore his partner. It was very conceivable that any other person could sleep through Ray's annoying bedtime habits. Fraser took his chance. He said nothing, and closed his eyes tightly.

Ray coughed a bit loudly, obviously trying to wake him. It would not work, Fraser promised himself. The man would give up.

"Fraser?" Ray whispered. "Frase? Benton Fraser, this is your superior officer, I want you to respond." Ray chuckled.

Fraser waited as the man became quiet again. He wanted to open his eyes, but was afraid that Ray had become accustomed to the darkness and would be able to see Fraser looking at him. He resolved to keep his eyes closed. The silence scared him now, as Fraser wondered what Ray was plotting. Fraser thought he would start to cry.

Just then Fraser felt a finger poke him in the ribs and he literally jumped.

"What, Ray, what do you want?" he demanded.

Ray had jumped back, the smile vanishing off of his face. "I was wondering if you were faking sleeping."

"Ray, why would I do that, unless it was only an attempt to sleep?" Fraser tried to reason, rubbing his face with his hands again.

"Fraser, it's too early in the morning to be all logical."

That was it. Fraser knew he was going to burst into tears.

"Anyway, I'm too wired to sleep."

"Why don't you get some exercise. Go for a jog."

"In this neighbourhood? You gotta be crazy. I could get killed."

*Hmmm.* "You have a gun, correct?"

"God, Fraser, and they all thought *I* was crazy." Ray was shaking his head.

For the first time that night, Fraser was actually interested in what the Detective was blithering on about. The Mountie half-sat up.

"Who thought you were crazy?" *That would explain a lot.*

"Ahh, no, I won't bother ya with that nonsense. Just doctors, that's all."

"No, no, Ray, bother me. Doctors said you were crazy?" Fraser prodded.

Ray blinked. "Well, not crazy. I dunno, I guess I've always been this way. When I was little, I didn't sleep all that well."

"Go on," Fraser urged.

"And well, the docs thought I was one of those hyperactive kids, you know, the ones that don't stay still for more than two seconds?"

Fraser nodded. *That really does explain a lot.*

"Of course, that's all bull..."

"Of course," Fraser replied.

Ray blinked again. "Are you mocking me?"

"What else did they say?" Fraser inquired, ignoring the question.

"Nothin'. My parents laughed at them."

"Ah."

"Yep."

"Well, thank you, Ray, for that interesting insight into your childhood. May I sleep now?"

"Hey you asked, Frase."

"You're absolutely correct. I did." Fraser nodded, satisfied with the doctors' opinions. "Good night, Ray."

"Night Frase," Ray mumbled after tossing a bit more.

The whir of the fan became audible once more as the house was settling down for the inevitable silence to follow. Fraser was surprised but he quickly managed to arrive at that hazy plateau in his mind. Sleep was fast approaching, when...

"Oh, then there was that time when my folks wanted to put me on Ritalin. But that was different. Probably wouldn'ta worked either."

Fraser bit his lip to keep from screaming. He groaned loudly instead and turned over. "Why was that different?" he asked slowly and hesitantly. "Your parents had agreed to listen to the licensed doctors' opinions? Or did they have a priest tell them it was the righteous thing to do? Or better yet, was it different because your camp directors had had enough of you keeping up all the other little tykes with your inane early morning chitchat or grating bedtime manner? Was that why it was different, Ray?"

"No Frase." Ray said slowly, even apprehensively. He turned over and got comfortable. "It was different. I was twenty-five."

With that Fraser jumped up and grunted out an exasperated groan. He quickly grabbed his bedroll and left the room, with Ray calling after, "What did I say?"

Ray shook his head after hearing evidence of Fraser finding refuge in the bathroom. "Canadians," Ray muttered. He wondered if Ritalin could help his friend.

Probably not.