Author's notes:. There is some language and sexual situations that would not be appropriate for younger readers, thus thePG-13 rating. Please read on and I hope you enjoy it.

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By Amethyst
 

 
        "Constable Fraser." Called the familiar stern voice of Inspector Thatcher from across the squadroom of the 27th precinct. Fraser's head snapped up, his body pulling rigidly to attention as his superior officer approached, while Francesca Vecchio's eyes narrowed on the woman.  Thatcher stopped beside Fraser, who was still standing next to the civilian aid's desk, retrieving some information for his partner who had gone to find a file on another case. Thatcher glanced over Francesca's half shirt and tight skirt, visible even as she sat at the desk, perhaps comparing it to her own tailored cream colored slack suit.
        "I...Inspector Thatcher." Greeted Fraser dutifully. "W..what brings you here? Have I forgotten..."
"No Fraser you haven't forgotten anything, your performance of your duties at the consulate today were exemplary as always." Thatcher assured and Fraser raised an eyebrow in surprise at the unusually gentle compliment. "I wish to speak to you." Fraser nodded, though still obviously confused.
         "Certainly, Sir." He told her, then to Francesca. "If you would be so kind as to print that up, I shall retrieve it in a moment, Francesca." The dark haired woman offered him a dazzling smile and nodded.
         "Anything fer you, Benton." She replied shooting a glance toward Thatcher that seemed to say, he's mine honey hands off. Thatcher met her gaze, staking her own claim on the flustered Mountie standing beside them.
         "Er...Thank you kindly, Francesca." He managed, then to Thatcher. "We could speak at Ray's...er Detective Vecchio's desk, Sir." Thatcher nodded, after another cool appraising look at Francesca, and followed him across the few feet to the small cluttered desk. Fraser's Stetson, a menage of paper and reports, a toy car and a box of Smarties were among the clutter. He turned to Thatcher obediently. "Did you require my assistance this evening, Sir?"
         "No." she returned her attention on the desk instead of him; so different from Fraser's immaculately neat desk, she wondered what the two men could possibly have in common. Finally she settled her gaze upon him. "You informed me that you and Detective Vecchio were on a surveillance mission last night...some steak thing."
         "A stakeout, yes, Sir." Supplied Fraser. "It is a widely used tool here in America to survey a possible suspect believed to be involved in..." Thatcher halted his words with the wave of his hand.
         "I know what it is, Constable." She rebuffed an edge of annoyance in her voice. "Are you going on one tonight?"
         "Yes, Sir." Replied Fraser truthfully, wondering where all this was leading. "I did not have to work tomorrow so I offered to assist R...Detective Vecchio with a surveillance mission later this evening. Detective's Hewy and Dewey are also involved and we...that is Detective Vecchio and I, will be relieving them and they will return in the morning." Thatcher nodded.
         "Good." She offered him a small smile. "I have decided I will join you on this stakeout, Fraser. I would like to observe what it is all about. After all you have been on many with Detective Vecchio and I would be interested to see what exactly goes on during these thing, after all I am your superior officer and I have a right to understand what my Constable is involved with, do I not?"
         Fraser stared at her in shock. Thatcher on a stakeout, with him and Ray, there would be carnage! He could not picture his superior officer and his partner cramped in the GTO for twelve hours, with nothing to do but wait, they would kill each other. Fraser massaged his eyebrow nervously, but she was his superior and there fore he couldn't really refuse her request.
        "Ah...well...I am uncertain if Leftenant Welsh would sanction..." he began and Thatcher again interrupted him.
         "I already discussed this with him and he said the decision was up to you and Detective Vecchio." She explained, as Fraser's eyes glanced over her head and noticed Ray returning, stopping by Francesca's desk to retrieve his information. Fraser only had a few more minutes to stall. Ray would never allow the Inspector to come.
         "I...that is...um...I really don't think..." he stammered as Ray approached them, a sheet of paper in one hand a Styrofoam cup in the other. Too late!
         "Hey, Thatcher." Ray greeted almost warily. "Thought Fraser was off his leash for the day." Her eyes narrowed as Fraser blushed.
         "Ray, please." He muttered embarrassed, hoping his superior officer didn't take offence at his partner's joke.
         "That isn't remotely amusing, detective." She told Ray coolly. "But I understand that you have a definitive, if inappropriate sense of humor, so I shall disregard your lack of manners for the moment."
         "Thank you kindly." Ray returned sarcastically, as he set the sheet on his desk and took a sip of his coffee, his eyes meeting Fraser's over the rim. The Mountie looked ready to bolt any minute, not that Ray could blame him and Thatcher had that effect on people.
        "I am here because I wish to join you and Constable Fraser on your sur...um...your stakeout for the evening." Ray gaped at her, his face turned red, his hand shook slightly and some of his coffee spilled on to the floor. All in all Fraser readied himself for the explosion and looked for a way to diffuse his friend's temper, even as Thatcher continued. "I have already cleared this with your Leftenant."
        Fraser noticed Ray's obvious attempt to cool his heels, and glanced at Thatcher startled. She had omitted the fact that Welsh had said it would be up to Ray, a fact that Fraser believed she did purposely, perhaps so Ray would consider she had the Lieutenant's blessing on this venture. Thatcher met his gaze, her look telling him not to interfere when he would have spoken up.
         "No." replied Ray finally, his jaw was locked in concentration, his brow furrowed in thought. "It wouldn't be yer bag, Inspector."
         "I believe I should be allowed to judge that for myself, Detective." She insisted, returning her attention to him. Ray glanced at Fraser for assistance, but Fraser could only return his look helplessly. He couldn't go against her, yet he knew Ray would be very angry with him if he did not at least try to back him up.
         "It is very...ah...boring, Sir." Fraser attempted, pulling on his ear and cracking his neck slightly. "We may be there for hours and not even see the suspect."
         "That would be acceptable." She replied undeterred. "After all, if you both can handle a little boredom so can I."
         "Um... It'd be kinda cramped." Ray countered quickly, even though the GTO had plenty of room, he wasn't about to tell her that. "Ya gotta be real quiet and everything."
         "What do you both do while waiting?" she demanded looking from one to the other. "Besides I'm small I don't take up much room." Fraser and Ray exchanged a panicked glance. Yes, they talked, about things that pertained to them. Actually both men seemed to take the quiet times during a stakeout to discuss their inner most thoughts, especially Ray. It was something Fraser looked forward to, more insight into his friend, he knew Ray would discuss nothing with Thatcher there and that left him surprisingly disappointed.
         "If she gets to go, so do I." decided Francesca suddenly from behind Fraser. The Mountie jumped slightly to find her so close to him, chagrinned that he had not even heard her approach.
         "No." all three of them answered simultaneously.
          Fraser blushed slightly, remembering the last stakeout the talkative and insistent woman had invited herself along on. When he and the real Ray Vecchio were investigating a used car dealership that were selling their cars then stealing them back to sell again. Francesca had come adorned with a picnic basket of gazpacho and shrimp, her mind obviously had not been on helping her brother, who was hiding in the trunk of the stolen car they were tailing. Fraser shivered slightly, he had almost lost Ray because the suspects had dumped the car in the lake, with Ray trapped inside and Francesca couldn't find the car keys. Fraser had dove in after him and was thankfully able to get him out unharmed.  He had been furious with Francesca for being so irresponsible with her own brother's life, though he never said a word to her, he sensed she knew he was upset with her because she stayed away from him for awhile.
         "If she can go why can't I?' demanded Francesca stubbornly glaring at Thatcher. "You just want Benton all to yerself will it ain't gonna happen. I..."
         "Frannie!" Ray interceded. "I'm gonna be there too, remember? What do ya expect is gonna happen...a threesome with Thatcher?" Fraser, Thatcher and Francesca all blushed at his words but he was beyond caring; he did not want either woman messing up his stakeout. "And I didn't say she was goin' anyway, so back off and go back ta...well doin' whatever it is you do." Francesca stared at him and he saw tears shimmering in her eyes, before she turned away.
         "Fine!" she stormed. "Go play cop, see if I help you anymore." Fraser glanced at Ray who was still looking after his pretend sister.
         "You were a little hard on her, Ray." He commented quietly and Ray shot him a dirty look. He didn't need Fraser to make him feel guilty for hurting Francesca's feelings, he was doing a great job of that all by himself.
         "She'll get over it." He stated coldly, then to Thatcher. "Ya got no business comin' and that's that. This is police work and..."
         "If you can monopolize my Constable to do your 'police work'," began Thatcher firmly. "Then you can offer me the same consideration, after all he has no more jurisdiction here than I do, Detective." Her eyes narrowed again. "May I remind you that Fraser's duties to the Canadian Government come first and above all other outside activities."
          Ray groaned, he knew what she was saying, if he didn't let her come she wouldn't allow Fraser to have anymore contact with the Chicago PD, which meant that Ray would loose his partner and the best friend he ever had. Although he was sure Fraser would probably fight her on it, in the end Thatcher would win, because she was his superior officer and above all else Ray knew she was right, Fraser's first loyalty must be to her. He glanced at Fraser who had paled visibly at the hidden threat that his superior officer had disposed. The Mountie didn't want to loose their partnership any more than he did. He sighed and swallowed his anger.
         "Fine." He growled, receiving a smug smile from Thatcher and a look of relief from Fraser, he hated that the Canadian was caught in the middle like that, his loyalty and friendship divided between them, it wasn't fair. "But ya gotta listen to what I tell ya and if ya screw up once yer outta there." He leaned slightly closer. "An' if ya mess up our investigation I'm be suing yer damned country for interference, got it?" Thatcher stepped back slightly and nodded, as Ray received a hurtful look from Fraser. He offered him a small smile. "Sorry about the Country thing, didn't mean ta swear." Thatcher noticed the Mountie nod to his friend forgivingly, but didn't return Ray's smile, at least not that she could see, but the detective acted as though Fraser had just accepted his apology whole heartily and all was well between them again. Thatcher wondered what she had missed.
         "What time will we depart?' Thatcher inquired, now that some of the animosity had left.
         "We'll pick ya up around ten." Ray informed. "Be waitin' down stairs' cause I ain't comin' up ta get ya. If ya ain't there we leave without ya." Thatcher regarded him coolly, knowing he would welcome an opportunity to be rid of her.
         "I will be waiting." She assured firmly, as Ray grumbled something under his breath.
         "Fraser, you tell her about it, I'm getting another coffee then we gotta run." Fraser nodded and watched his friend finish off his now cold coffee and walk away to find another.
        He watched the detective stop Francesca in the hall, as the woman was headed back to her desk. Ray placed his hand on her shoulder and she flinched away from his touch, her anger at him evident, but he blocked her from going further and continued speaking to her. Fraser watched her swat at him , but there was the beginning of a smile on her face as she did it and he knew Ray had smoothed things over with the aid. Ray said something else, but his face was turned away from him so Fraser couldn't make out his friend's words, but it must have been something special because Francesca blushed and swatted him again, this time affectionately. Ray caught her hand and kissed her fingers tenderly as she awarded him a dazzling smile, then he moved to the side so she could continue to her desk, while he walked off toward the kitchen.
         "He cares a great deal about her, doesn't he?" Thatcher commented, bringing Fraser's attention back to her, he had forgotten she was there. He blushed again at his rude behavior and tried to recall what she had said.
         "Ray cares about many people." He stated quietly. "He is a very loving individual." Thatcher folded her arms across her chest and smirked.
         "He certainly doesn't care for me, though, does he?" Fraser stared at her a moment, unsure how to respond. Finally he said.
         "He does not really know you, Sir." He phrased carefully. "I do not believe he could form an honest opinion otherwise." Thatcher regarded him quietly for long time, to the point where her observation made him uncomfortable and he found himself pulling at the collar of his tunic.
         "Will you be changing before you go with the detective on the stakeout. Fraser?" she suddenly inquired and it took Fraser a moment to pertain to the newly broached subject, though he was slightly relieved she had stopped inquiring about Ray. He would not lie to her, yet he didn't wish to betray the detective's feelings, it was not his place to do so.
         "Yes, Sir." He informed her quickly. "Ray prefers me to dress in civilian attire as it draws less attention than my uniform, should we be seen."  Thatcher nodded, that made sense.
         "Then I will meet you both at the Consulate." She decided. No sense giving the detective a way to back out, by claiming she was waiting at the exact time. Fraser raised an eyebrow.
         "As you wish, Sir." He replied as Kowalski returned. She nodded and took her leave, Ray glanced at her as she passed, then spoke to Fraser, who noticed the detective did not have a fresh coffee with him. He suspected his partner had only used that as an excuse to get away from Thatcher until he had regained control of his temper and Fraser was grateful that his friend had been concerned enough for him to do so.
         "Ya ready?" the blond asked retrieving his black leather coat from his chair and the sheet of paper from the desk that Francesca had given him. Fraser nodded and followed him out.
 

         Ray and Fraser were just coming out of the Canadian Consulate when Inspector Thatcher drove up. Ray sighed while Fraser turned to lock up, as Thatcher exited her vehicle and waited for them at the bottom of the steps. Ray was mildly surprised to see her in jeans, a red pullover sweater under a  dark suede jacket and matching boots. He smirked thinking how they all seemed to have dressed alike. Fraser was in his jeans and red plaid shirt, and Ray wore his regular blue jeans and maroon over shirt. They all wore black jackets and boots, Fraser was the only one that stood out because of his hat.
         "Good evening, Sir." Greeted Fraser respectfully as he and Ray descended the steps and stopped beside the GTO. She offered him a slight smile and the small cooler she had brought with her.
         "I took the liberty of bringing some snacks and a few drinks." She informed as Fraser set the cooler in the back "Isn't the wolf joining us?"
         "Diefenbaker seems to be under the weather this evening." Fraser explained, though he suspected the wolf's ailment was more due to the entire cheesecake he had polished off earlier that Turnbull had made. Fraser started to climb into the back, respectfully leaving the front seat for his superior officer, but Ray would have none of it.
         "She gets the back, Fraser." He insisted pulling open the driver's door, he did not want Thatcher sitting next to him, not in the mood he was in. "You get in front." Fraser started to protest, but Thatcher interrupted.
         "Detective Vecchio is right, Fraser." She allowed quietly. "I am smaller so I should get in the back seat." Fraser nodded.
         "Very well, Sir." He replied pushing the seat forward for her to climb in, trying not to notice how incredibly inciting she looked in the snug fitting jeans. He cracked his neck, as her delicious looking backside settled into the seat and disappeared from his view, then climbed in next to Ray. Ray gunned the engine and pulled away from the curb as Fraser set his Stetson on the dash in front of him. They drove for a short while, the silence in the vehicle deafening, until Fraser finally just had to speak. He asked ray if he had gotten the ball game tickets had mentioned wanting.
         "Nah." Ray replied and Fraser could tell his friend was still tense, whether it was due to Thatcher's presence or the long, frustrating day they had both had he was uncertain. He wanted to discuss the case they were working on, pull out Ray's thoughts, which usually helped the detective see things more clearly and left him more relaxed, but he did not know if it would be appropriate with the three of them there. Fraser had to admit, Inspector Thatcher made him nervous as well, but he could deal with it. He just wanted Ray to relax, being this uptight could cause a problem if their suspect decided to show tonight.
        "P...perhaps we could try for next week's game then." Fraser prompted.
         "Maybe." Was Ray's reply and Fraser sighed, this was going to be a long night.
         When they finally arrived at their destination, Ray had parked the vehicle and Thatcher watched him snuggle down into his seat, giving the air illusion that he was about to go to sleep, but somehow she suspected the detective was even more alert in this mode. Fraser, sat upright, though not as rigidly and looked comfortable enough. She silently wished the wolf had come, it would give her someone to talk to. She never really talked to Fraser about anything outside the Consulate and she rarely spoke to Ray at all.
        She was beginning to suspect this had been a bad idea all together, that she was intruding on something sacred between the two men, yet she had only wanted to...what had she wanted to do? Part of her reasoned she was merely supervising what sort of activities her Constable was up to. She had the right to do that for she was his superior officer after all, but she had to admit that part of it was she wanted to see what Fraser saw in the Chicago detective. They were friends, but Fraser often seemed almost enamored of the man that had become the bane of her existence.
         She had thought the real Vecchio was annoying, and truth be told he had been, but even though Kowalski gave her a hard time, she couldn't seem to draw up the same disdain she held for Vecchio. Kowalski was to...playful, to unpredictable and that rebel smile of his just wiped the slate clean for her every time. He had even complimented her a few times, the real Ray Vecchio had never done that, and he seemed to enjoy catching her off guard. Mostly she wanted to see what Fraser saw in him. From all appearance the detective was brash, unorthodox, undisciplined and entirely too mouthy and prone to violence, yet she suspected there was another person under all that that was rarely shown to anyone else except perhaps to Fraser, and that was the man who intrigued her.
        "Why don't you go and get us some coffee, Fraser?' she suggested handing him some bills from her purse. She watched the two men exchange a glance. "Is that not allowed either, Detective?"
        "Of course, Sir." Fraser replied quickly and before his friend could respond, he grabbed his hat and was out of the vehicle and headed to the small all night deli just a block or so away. Ray stared after him for a moment, then settled back into his seat. His eyes flicked upwards and met Thatcher's in the rearview mirror, then returned to watch the darkened building across from them.
        "So, how do you know if this fellow you are waiting for will show?' she inquired politely, leaning forward to be heard better.
        "We don't, just have ta wait and see." He replied, then suddenly she heard him curse as he hunkered lower in his seat.
         "What is it, detective?"
         "Climb up here in front.' He demanded quietly.
         "Why?"
         "Just hurry up and do it." He hissed and she swallowed her retort and climbed over the seat to settle in front.
         "What's going on?" she demanded as she felt the seats moving backwards in a reclining position.
         "Hopefully she didn't see us." Ray was murmuring, as he reached for her. "Don't take this the wrong way Inspector, but c'mere." Thatcher gasped as she was pulled halfway across the seat into the detective's lap. He put a hand over her mouth when she went to protest and pointed to the scantily dressed woman moving toward them. Thatcher nodded, understanding immediately and snuggled into Ray as though he were her lover. If the hooker continued to approach she would think them otherwise engaged and move off, keeping anyone from watching from blowing their location and ruining the stakeout. Instead the woman continued move closer, pausing for a moment, as though trying to make them out in the darkness. "Great," Ray muttered wrapping his arms around Thatcher to feign a passionate embrace. "Just our luck to get near sighted hooker."
        Thatcher giggled at his comment, unable to stop herself and he glanced at her surprised, then a small grin broke through. Their faces were so close they were almost touching and from her new vantage point Thatcher could see the pale blue of his eyes, or were they green, it was hard to say, but they sparkled with an energy that she envied. His face, like hers was shadowed in the darkened vehicle, only a pale stream of moonlight seemed to settle on his eyes. It would be so easy to just lean a little closer and press her lips to his, in fact it would probably even help their cover and dissuade their unexpected visitor.
        She wondered what kissing Kowalski would be like, if it would be anything like kissing Fraser. She wondered if the energy that seemed to surround him would be exuded in his kiss. Before she even realized what she was doing, she had done what she had only considered doing, and pressed her lips against Ray's. He seemed startled at first, perhaps the idea of kissing the Ice Queen was too much for him, but only after a moment's pause, and he moved his mouth against hers. She sighed against him, wrapping her arms fully around his neck and drinking in the taste of chocolate and coffee, her fingers winding through his surprisingly soft spiked crop of hair. His lips were soft, pliant, sweet and almost shy as he returned her kiss. Just as Thatcher opened her mouth to him and allowed his tongue to slip inside there was a sharp rap on the driver side window, causing them both to jump apart.
        "Hey man...ya wanna have a little fun?" the hooker asked  through the window and Ray waved her away.
        "Nah, I'm good." He returned indicating Thatcher, who was still seated in his lap. The woman sighed disappointed and wandered off. Ray and Thatcher gazed at each other for a long moment. "F...Fraser'll be back soon." He warned as he shifted under her, indicating she should return to her seat. Thatcher noticed the detective wasn't as unaffected by their kiss as he was pretending to be, as she started to slide across his lap to settle in the opposite seat.
        "Should I get in the back again?" she asked huskily and Ray nodded, avoiding her gaze.
        "Yah." He replied. "Um...thanks fer helpin' out." She nodded and proceeded to climb in the back, giving Ray an extended view of her denim clad derriere. He averted his eyes again and inconspicuously adjusted himself in his seat, just as the passenger door opened and Fraser reclaimed his seat. He handed them each a coffee and offered them a pastry from the selection he had purchased as an after thought, unaware of what had transpired between his partner and superior officer, or the guilt both felt in his presence.
        "Anything happen?" Fraser asked conversationally and Ray shook his head as he bit into one of the pastries.
        "It has been very quiet." Informed Thatcher from the back seat and Fraser turned toward her slightly, after placing his hat on the dash.
        "I apologize for it not being very exciting for you, Sir." He offered politely and Thatcher hid a smile as her gaze slid to the blond behind the wheel.
        "On the contrary, Fraser." She argued. "It has been a very eye opening experience." Fraser glanced at his partner who seemed unusually flushed.
        "Are you all right, Ray?" he inquired and the detective nodded, but didn't meet his gaze.
        "Just wanna get this guy, Frase." He muttered finishing off his pastry and Fraser nodded.
        "Ah..understood."

        Fraser glanced back at Thatcher who had fallen asleep and was draped across the back seat, then at his watch. They had been there for almost six hours, it was a little after three in the morning, so he wasn't surprised the Inspector had fallen asleep. Ray had gotten out earlier and retrieved a blanket that he kept in the trunk to pull over her, claiming he didn't want her to catch a chill and sue him for phenomena.
        "I am sorry about this, Ray." Fraser offered quietly, both men keeping their voices lowered, not just out of curtsey for the sleeping woman but in the darkened vehicle it seemed warranted.
        "It ain't yer fault, Frase" Ray assured him. "Besides, she hasn't been to bad, and she did bring us those sandwiches and drinks."
        "Inspector Thatcher really isn't as bad as you think, Ray. She is simply...well...missunderstood." Ray shrugged.
        "Don't matter ta me one way or d'other Frase," he stated, covering a yawn. "Yer the one dat works fer her not me." Fraser nodded.
        "Still, I would like it if you two got along better, it makes things...difficult sometimes."
        "I'd never do anythin' ta get ya in trouble wit her Fraser." Ray promised solemnly. "I know I tease ya about her, but...well I know she means a lot to ya and I won't interfeer wit dat."
        "She is my superior officer, Ray." Fraser began and Ray waved him off.
        "I know and I don't mean anythin' by what I just said." He sighed and leaned his head back for a moment. "I just mean...well I know duty is real important ta ya and I..well I am not gonna come between that, y'know. Yer my partner and my friend, so I accept that part of ya, y'know?" Fraser nodded touched by his friend's words.
        "I appreciate that, Ray." He returned softly and the blond smiled at him.
        "Sure, buddy." Ray shrugged. 'Dat's what friend's are fer right?"
        "Right you are, Ray." Agreed Fraser as Ray yawned again. "Would you like to take a nap Ray?"
        "Nah, I'm actually pretty awake, just can't stop yawnin' one of them suggestive things I guess." Fraser smiled and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Finally ray spoke again.
        "Tomorrow's the last night for this crap. If we don't get Barker by then Welsh is pullin' us out of detail." Fraser nodded and silently hoped their suspect would show up before then. He and Ray had been working hard on this case, and two others besides. He knew the detective must be exhausted though he never showed it, he always worried when Ray got to intent on a case and forgot to eat or sleep.
        "When was the last time you slept, Ray?" he asked gently.
        "Um...yesterday..no...maybe the day before for about four hours." Admitted Ray. "I get a few winks here and there since then though, so don't start motherin' me, Fraser."
        "I'm merely concerned for your welfare, Ray." Fraser stated hurt and Ray sighed.
        "I know ya are buddy, and I 'preciate it, but I'm a big boy. I can take care o' myself."
        "Will you at least promise me you will get some sleep later today before we come back out here?" Fraser requested and Ray nodded.
        "I'll try, buddy." Fraser nodded, that would have to do. He noticed Ray was moving his head back and forth and wincing, possibly from a kink in his neck.
        "Let me get that for you, Ray." Fraser offered and Ray obediently turned to allow the Mountie better access to his neck as he kept his eyes riveted on the closed bar across the way. Fraser gave damn good massages, and always offered to get rid of Ray's muscle spasms that always hit when he had been sitting too long.
        "Ah!" he hissed as Fraser found a particularly sore spot, but in moments the pressure was relieved as the Canadian's fingers worked their magic.
        "Have you ever considered going to a chiropractor about your neck, Ray?" he inquired concern. "It certainly does have the tendency to cramp up on you often enough.
        "Nah, I got you, who needs a pretzel doctor." Returned Ray missing the pleased flush that rose to Fraser's cheeks. "Yer a hundred times better. Mmmm, that's.. Ow!" Ray sighed again as the knot was worked out. Suddenly a movement caught Ray's eye and he stiffened to get a better look through the windshield, reaching for his glasses to better make out what he was seeing. Fraser's hands stopped moving, though stayed on Ray's neck, as he too leaned forward.
        "Mr. Barker I presume." He stated quietly and Ray nodded, waiting for the man to go inside, before picking up his radio mike and calling for back up. "Should we wake the Inspector?" Ray shook his head as he opened his door and got out.
        "Let her sleep." He motioned for Fraser to follow him as he hurried across the street to the bar. Slipping inside the darkened building, Fraser signaled the direction where his keen hearing was picking up the man's possible footsteps with his small flashlight and they hurried forward into an empty room.
        After a quick look around, they discovered footprints  on the dust covered floor that lead to a room behind the bar. After a moment's hesitation, Ray hefted his gun and nodded to Fraser that he was ready. The door flew inward and Ray announced himself as they charged in. The two men inside both.
 
 
 

        Thatcher and Ray stood ominously silently as the elevator crept slowly upwards, neither speaking, or looking at the other, the air around them charged with indifference and animosity at the same time. Ray shuffled back and forth on his feet, wishing Fraser were here with him instead of Thatcher. Wishing the stairs had been open to use, he hated elevators. He pulled at his collar, God it was hot in here, so hot. He coughed and glanced up as the numbers lighted in sequence, announcing their ascent. 8...9...10...com'ahn! Hurry up! He hated elevators, almost never used them-they were too tight for his liking and way to slow.
        Thatcher smoothed down her pale blue suit skirt, eager to find something to do with her hands and mentally went over her greeting for the ambassador. Fraser would already be there, she was sure-as competent as the Mountie was she had no doubt he would keep their guests waiting until her arrival. Still, she wished the elevator would hurry. The detective on the opposite side of the car with her seemed nervous, or perhaps just too energetic-but then Kowalski always seemed like that to her; like he was ready to take on the world. She wondered where he got all of his energy, she certainly didn't look that vibrant and inexhaustible without some serious mental preparation and a lot of cosmetics.
        She sneaked a peek at him under shaded lashes and studied his profile silently. He really was quite attractive, though she suspected he didn't think so-despite his obnoxious behavior at times. His hair was...well...the only description Thatcher could think of was wildly independent. She had seen him only a few times with his hair tamed down, and it didn't seem to suit him at all-no she much preferred him this way-with the rebellious hair and the dark glasses. She paused, why should she prefer him in any way? He was brash, obnoxious and entirely too volatile and stubborn.
         She remembered the kiss he had requested of her, to keep their cover on the stakeout-she had actually thought about it quite often, perhaps too often.  She understood Ray was just doing what was necessary-it had meant nothing to him, but he certainly was good at it. She remembered how soft that rebellious hair had felt under her roaming fingers and how he was not as unaffected by their kiss as he led her to believe. He certainly was amusing at times though and had a way of annoying Fraser and getting a reaction out of the usually unflappable Mountie that she envied. A disturbing frown curved her lips, how could she envy the detective? That was ridiculous! Her eyes snapped forward again, determined to discount her erratic thoughts to her nervousness at meeting the Ambassador.
        Ray swallowed as the numbers climbed steadily upwards, 13...14...15...God! This was taking forever and it was getting hard to breathe. He coughed again, trying to rid himself of the sudden dryness of his throat as his glance slid covertly toward the woman across from him. Thatcher was a babe, he'd be the first to admit it, and especially today in her tailored cut baby blue suit and high heals. She had nice legs, dancer's legs,
Ray considered, and he wondered if she liked to dance. Still, he thought she looked best in those jeans and casual shirt she had worn the other day on the stakeout-she seemed more touchable then, not so aloof.
        That kiss they had shared had shaken Ray, he hadn't expected the Ice Queen to be so...well hot, and she had been that, yes indeed. Hot and soft and tasting like candied apples-Ray's favorite treat. He knew she had done it as a favor to keep their cover, she was a professional after all, but still, he couldn't help thinking about it. He also knew Fraser had feelings for Thatcher, and that probably the Ice Queen felt something for him too, just never showed it. But Ray was an expert at body language, it was made him a good undercover cop, and he noticed the chemistry between his partner and the Inspector, which made him feel twice as guilty for having kissed her-regardless of the reason for it.
        Suddenly the elevator jerked violently and they were both thrown off balance, but managed to remain upright. Ray's eyes flew upward to the numbers and saw that they had stopped. NO! They couldn't be stuck! This couldn't happen to him, not in such a small elevator, with Thatcher no less! He moved to the controls and pressed the button to open the door, then tried pressing the numbers above and below them.
        "Com'ahn!" He breathed, trying to get the surge of panic that was riding through him under control. He did not want to loose it in front of the Ice Queen, no way! His hand shook as he opened the emergency phone box and found there was no connection. He slammed it angrily back on its holder.
        "What's going on?" Thatcher asked perturbed.
        "We're stuck." Ray croaked, as he leaned his head against the cool metal of the panel. It was so tight...so hot and tight and he couldn't breathe. No air! They were running out of air. He was going to suffocate in here, he and Thatcher both and no one would ever find them because no one knew they were stuck.
        "Detective?" Thatcher inquired, noticing the sudden pallor of Kowalski's skin and how his hands were shaking. He seemed to be gasping for air, but there was a ventilation system so they had plenty of oxygen flowing about them. Ray didn't answer her, just continued to bang his head against the elevator panel, muttering and gasping. She stepped forward and touched his arm and he started surprised, as though he had forgotten she was there.
        "No air..." he gasped, his hands going to his throat and he had started to hyperventilate as his legs gave beneath him and he started to slide down the wall pathetically. Thatcher immediately went into action and placed his head between his knees, instructing him to take slow deep breaths.
        "We have plenty of oxygen, detective." She assured firmly, as she knelt beside him. "There is an air vent above us, we won't run out of air, I assure you. Just breathe in and out slowly, that's it."
Ray scooted way from her, hugging himself as he backed into a wall. He was loosing it, loosing it in front of Thatcher and he couldn't help it. Where was Fraser? Where the hell were the other people in the building? Didn't they know they were stuck? Why weren't they trying to get them out? Why couldn't he breathe?  Calm down, Ray. Calm, be calm, you are not gonna look like an idiot in front of Thatcher. The Ice Queen was staring at him as though he had grown another head, like he had suddenly turned purple or green or some other extraordinary color.
        Why did the elevator have to be so small? The walls! The walls were closing in making the car even smaller. They were going to squash him, him and Thatcher together would be pancakes because the walls were moving inward and they were stuck and he couldn't get out. Fraser! Fraser would hear him, Fraser would rescue them, and he could count on Fraser. But Fraser was still many floors up and would be in a room with a crowd of people and so he wouldn't hear them and know they were stuck. Suddenly Ray bolted to his feet and started slamming against the doors.
        "Help! We're stuck!" he screamed hysterically. "Fraser! Fraser get me out Fraser! Fraser it's Ray! Get me out of here!" Again he started to slide down the wall, as he realized no one could hear him. "Please Fraser get me out." He whispered. "I..I can't stand it... I can't breath...too tight..." Thatcher suddenly realized that Ray was very claustrophobic and she went to kneel beside him again.
        "It will be alright, Ray." She assured gently, putting her hands on his shoulders, terrified for him, what he must be going through. She rarely saw the detective afraid of anything, she would never guess he had a phobia, especially one as severe as this. Her heart went out to him, the walls she had so carefully erected giving way to his need for compassion at this moment. She wrapped her arms around him carefully, rocking him as though he were a child. "We'll be fine." She cooed softly, running her fingers through his hair soothingly as his arms went around her compulsively and she knew he must really be scared then, to willingly accept support from her. "Constable Fraser will realize we are late and will come looking for us. We'll be out of here in no time. Just think of something to calm yourself." Ray shook his head, the only thing he could think of were the walls, getting closer and closer and his air running out.
"        Can't!" he croaked. "Can't breathe...can't think..." Thatcher settled on the floor in a more comfortable position and continued to rock him, the man was literally trembling in her arms and she desperately tried to think of something that would relax him.
        "Tell me about you and Fraser." She suggested. "One of your favorite cases or something you both did together that you liked." For a moment Ray said nothing, when finally he spoke, his voice was so soft she had to strain to hear him.
        "When....when I was havin' ta stay at the Consulate because everyone thought I had killed a guy, Fraser told me that I was his...his friend and I asked him if it was hard to say and he said no. I thought, y'know...he just took me as his partner cause he had to...because of Vecchio, but he said he was my friend and I...I think I believed him. I figured he'd...you know be pissed ta have me around, ya know..remindin' him of Vecchio's leavin', but he didn't...I mean he said that and Fraser doesn't lie so it's...it's gotta be true right?" Thatcher nodded.
        "I am sure that if he said that then he meant it." She agreed, surprised to hear the doubt in the detective's voice Did he really have no idea how much Fraser meant to him? Anyone could see that the Mountie was dedicated to Kowalski, Thatcher suspected he was closer to the blond than he had ever been with the real Ray Vecchio, despite their differences, yet this Ray didn't seem to grasp that concept. Ray was still shaking and gasping for air again so she tried to get his mind off their situation once again.
        "Tell me something else." She encouraged, her hand continued to play with his hair, it seemed to calm him more so than actually holding him, but she remained in the embrace. "Are you...were you truly upset that I went on your surveillance mission with you last week?" She could fell Ray's small grin against her shoulder and fought one of her own. Talking about that particularly night probably wasn't the best topic, but it was all she could come up with.
        "Yes." He admitted, with a tinge of his usually arrogance. "I didn't want ya dere 'cause...well, you and me never...we don't get on too well."
        "Who's fault is that?" she demanded annoyed.
        "I...mine I guess." He replied quietly. "You don't like me and..."
        "I have never said that I don't like you, Detective." She admonished firmly. He raised his head to look at her, there was still fear in his eyes but not as much as before and she knew he was trying to compose himself, to defeat his fear in front of her.
        "Ya mean ya do like me?" he asked surprised.
        "I never said that either." She retorted and he grinned slyly, then put his head back down against her as she compressed her lips to keep from returning his smile.
        "Anyway," he continued. "I didn't figure ya liked me an' sometimes I don't like da way you treat Frase, so I...."
        "I treat Fraser as well as any of my other subordinates Detective." She insisted annoyed.
        "Den I feel sorry fer dem too." He muttered and she pushed away from him.
        "What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded and Ray sighed, he didn't want to get into this. "Are you suggesting I treat my employees with less that the proper respect?"
        "Look, I promised Fraser I'd be nice to ya so don't push it."
        "You promised Fraser?" she gaped at him. "What does Fraser have to do with the way you treat me, detective?" Ray glared at her as he bolted to his feet, a flash of anger sparking the previous fear from his eyes.
        "Ya walk all over him!" he declared. "I understand dat yer his superior an' all dat, but ya got him runnin' around like yer errand boy half da time. Ain't it bad enough dat his country kicked him out but ya gotta treat him like he's dirt too?" Thatcher stared at him shocked.
        "Constable Fraser has never mentioned any problems with the way I treat him, Detective." She insisted irritated. "If he felt I was being unfair he would have every right to..."
        "But he'd never question ya or refuse what ya dish out, Thatcher." Ray stated. "He's to disciplined...to loyal ta his duty and crap and to you."
        "That's a bad thing?" she questioned incensed. "Just because you have no sense of cultivation or respect for your superiors, you expect Fraser not to?"
        "Hey!" Ray shot angrily. "I respect my superiors just fine, I do as I'm told and I'm a damn good cop, but when someone leans on me, or tries ta make me look less dan I am, hell yah I'll fight back. No one's got da right ta make someone else feel unimportant or demeaned, I don't care who ya are!" Thatcher rose to her feet furious.
        "You don't know what you are talking about." she stated.
        "Look, maybe dey do things differently in Canada," he offered "And I know we got our little power hungry puppies here in Chicago too, but no one deserves ta be treated da way ya treat Fraser. Hell, I don't get Welsh's dry cleanin' or coffee or any of da crap ya make Fraser do!" He took a deep breath, his claustrophobia momentarily forgotten. "Ya expect him ta do da impossible sometimes an' it ain't right. Ya treat him like a servant and its about time someone told ya it's wrong!" Thatcher's hand swung up in an attempt to slap Ray but he deflected it easily and caught her wrist tightly in his fingers.
        "Let go!" she ordered trying to pull away from his grip.
        "Just so ya know," he growled, releasing her wrist and watching her rub it. "I will slap ya back if ya try it." Her eyes widened in shock.
        "You wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed, but the look in his eyes told her he would indeed hit her back. "You would assault me? You would actually hit a woman?" Ray shrugged.
        "If she hits me first, hell ya- assault goes both way's sweetheart. If ya got da nerve ta hit me, ya better have da nerve to receive an equal trade." Ray glared at her, knowing he would never really strike her just for slapping him. He would be tempted, yes, but he wouldn't carry through. Stella had slapped him a few times, in fact she seemed to enjoy banging him about during their fights, but he never once hit her back. He'd always explained his bruises and black eyes away by saying it was a suspect he had apprehended the night before. Thatcher was looking at him with such animosity he almost felt the urge to flinch away from her, but he didn't.
        "You have no right to tell me how to treat Fraser." She stated frostily. "I am his superior and I will treat him how I feel is appropriate, without any interference from a swaggering, disrespectful American, thank you very much!"
        "I got ever right!" Ray yelled at her. "Fraser is my friend and it's not right da way ya make him feel worthless and treat him like a dog! No body got da right ta demean another person like dat."
        "Apparently that doesn't apply to your ex-wife, detective!" she shot back and Ray growled threateningly.
        "Leave Stella outta this." He warned. "Dis ain't about me and Stella it's about you and Fraser."
        "There is no me and Fraser!" she declared furious, also rising to her feet. "And if you are going to stand there insinuating that I behave inappropriately toward Constable Fraser I am certainly not going to stand for it. If you want to talk about someone being made to look like a fool then you should speak to your wife about how she brutally continues to do so to you." Ray stared at her, angry and shocked. What would she care how Stella treated him, that wasn't what he was talking about, they were talking about Fraser, but apparently Thatcher discovered Ray's weakness and was now using it against him. "You're like a love sick puppy next to her and she shoots you down like you were nothing. You have the gall to stand there with your self righteous attitude of my treatment of Fraser when you run from your Ex wife like a whipped dog with his tail between his legs." Thatcher regretted her words as she saw the flash of pain that crossed Ray's face and he stumbled away from her, leaning against the opposite wall of the elevator, his back to her.
        "Yer really a bitch, y'know dat?" he muttered and Thatcher couldn't deny it. She had deliberately attacked him where it hurt, but it had been her only option. She couldn't stand there listening to him question her ethics as Fraser's superior officer.
        Granted, sometimes she did treat Fraser, perhaps not with the respect he was due, but she always made up for it afterwards. Besides, she refused to allow this...this...American to tell her how to command. She had remembered how Stella Kowalski had treated Ray when they had all been trying to figure out their suspects in the stabbing at the mall a few months ago.  Thatcher had felt the urge to strike the woman for being so mean and wanting to shake the detective for letting her. He was pathetic around the woman and it was absurd! She didn't even know how they had ended up arguing, but it seemed that Ray had forgotten his fear for a while at least, so that much was good.
        "It's a case of the pot calling the kettle black, Detective.' She insisted coolly. "If you wish to judge my life, you should first examine your own more closely." Ray turned to her and she had seen that the color had gone from his face again, his fear was returning.
        "Yah." He murmured, still leaning against the wall as his eyes darted frantically about. "Examine...I'm...I'm sorry I...I can't think I can't..." Thatcher took a step toward him and he started, sliding back further against the wall, away from her. "Just...just leave me alone, okay? I... can do dis. I'll be...okay. I don't need yer p..pity." He looked so damned vulnerable standing there, willing his body not to shake, forcing down his screams of panic that she was sure were tempted to rise from his throat.
        "I..I apologize, detective." She offered quietly, folding her hands primly in front of her. "I...I was rude and I have no more right to say such things to you as you do to me." Ray nodded at her but she was unsure he actually heard her words, his eyes were staring to glaze over and he was starting to frighten her. Was he going to start yelling again? Was he going to pass out. She moved toward him again, but he waved her back.
        "No!" he croaked. "J...just stay over dere, more...more room if yer over dere." Thatcher nodded and backed up a few steps, so she was on the opposite wall, offering him all the room he required.
        Suddenly there was an odd creaking above and around them and then the floor seem to give beneath them.  A scream echoed around them, though neither knew from which mouth it came, as they were thrown against the walls. Their hearts launched into their throats, as the elevator plummeted downward, then tossed them violently to the floor as it stopped again just as abruptly.
        For a moment, neither moved nor spoke, perhaps afraid that either might cause the car to drop again, but finally when it seemed they were stable, Ray started to climb to his feet, offering a shaky hand to Thatcher. She allowed him to pull her upwards, not even objecting to their sudden closeness and the fact that he still held her hand even after she had stood.
        "Are...are you okay?" he breathed anxiously, his earlier anger at her forgotten, as he glanced over her quickly and she gave him a tentative nod.
        "H...How far do you think we fell?" she whispered, finding her composure rattled and her voice less than sure. Ray shook his head, released her hand and moved back toward the panel, trying the phone again. It was still dead, so he replaced it and move to stare up at the small hatch over them.
        "Ya think ya can get on my shoulders?" he asked her judging the distance from the hatch to where they stood.
        "You want me to climb up there?" she asked incredulous.
        "We can't stay in here." He declared frustrated. "I ain't gonna be able ta take much more of bein' closed in an' if da elevator drops again neither of us will be able ta tell da tale." His frank words caused her to shiver and in a split decision she nodded and kicked off her shoes. Ray knelt and offered his shoulders but she hesitated.
        "I..I'm scared Ray." She confided quietly and he rose for a moment to take both of her hands in his.
        "So am I." He admitted gently. "But we gotta do somethin'. I ain't ready ta die, and even if I was it wouldn't be in dis fire trap, got it?" She nodded and for a moment they just stared at each other. Suddenly Ray's lips met hers and they kissed hungrily, before he again knelt and took her on his shoulders. His hands wrapped securely around her calves as he stood and heard her startled squeal at being propelled upward.
        "Don't you dare let go!" she warned him and he chuckled.
        "I got ya." He assured as he walked over toward the hatch.
        "Am I too heavy?"
        "Nah, yer good." He replied as she reached up toward the latch that would open the small door. He couldn't look up to see what she was doing or he'd throw her off balance, so he kept his eyes straight and tried not to think about their current predicament or the amount of heat radiating around his neck from where her legs were placed. Well, if nothing else she presented a distraction from his fear.
        "I almost got it." She told him as she tried to pull at the stubborn latch.
        Without warning the elevator shot down wards again, sending them both flying backwards. Somehow Ray had managed to pull her downwards and roll so he took the most of the damage, with her landing almost atop him. The elevator stopped again and they both lay there gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of them. Ray groaned and Thatcher raised up slightly from her position to look at him, careful not to move her legs or any other part, that were touching him intimately at the moment, for fear she would hurt him further.
        "You...you okay?" Ray managed breathlessly as he blinked a couple of times to rid himself of the spots surrounding his vision.
        "I think so." She returned. "Are you?" He had hit pretty hard and she carefully raised her hands up to examine his head for injuries. He hissed and winced as she touched a large bump behind his ear. "You hit your head. You may have a concussion." Ray seemed to chuckle at that.
        "Add it ta my collection." He sighed as he tried to raise his head then grimaced. "Can ya get off me, Thatcher?" Thatcher blushed and scrambled off of him, watching him wince once again as her knee came in contact with a particularly tender region.
        "Sorry." She muttered averting her eyes as Ray carefully rolled to his feet, ignoring the hand she offered him. He got to his knees and paused for a painful breath, making Thatcher suspect he may have bruised or fractured a rib as well-after all she landed on him pretty hard. He didn't rise from his knees, just indicated she climb on and she shook her head firmly.
        "Com'ahn ." He sighed. "Ya can't hold me up dere, so let's go, pitter patter."
        "You're hurt." She protested and watched him shrug painfully.
        "I'll manage." He decided. "Com'ahn, before dis thing remembers it's stopped." Thatcher carefully climbed on his shoulders again, the fact that they might fall again being a good incentive to get the hell out of there fast. Ray again positioned her under the door, but she could hear his labored breathing and wondered if it was due to his phobia or his injuries, probably both she decided, as she worked the latch.
         Finally it slipped across and she pushed the door upwards. She would have to stand on his shoulders to haul herself upwards and she didn't know if he could handle the extra weight with his ribs, but Ray was already pushing her upwards. She managed to get her stocking feet balanced carefully on his shoulders as he firmly held onto her calves. She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew the effort he was expending was causing him pain.
        "Are you all right?" she inquired concerned as she glanced down to see Ray grit his teeth.
        "Just hurry and get up dere, Thatcher." He snapped and she reached her arms up to pull herself through the opening. It was cooler than the elevator, but perspiration shone on her hands and forehead at the thought the car might collapse under her, even more terrifying was that Ray was still inside. She crawled into a better position atop the car and reached her hand down toward the detective, who had already made the jump toward the opening, knowing Thatcher wouldn't be able to pull him up with just her own weight behind her. Together they managed to get him out of the elevator and he took a few deep breaths, perhaps of pain or relief to be out of the car, she didn't know. There was a creaking in the cables again and they both dove for the connecting cables of the adjacent car, just as the elevator they had escaped for plummeted the rest of the way down in a loud squeal of cables and brakes. The crash below made them both wince at the idea of what they had just escaped.
        "Now what?" Thatcher asked, her quiet voice echoing loudly in the shaft.
        "Climb." Ray instructed through his pain as he started, hand over hand up the cable they both gripped. Ray prayed the elevator attached to the cables they were using was also out of order and wouldn't be coming at them from either direction any time soon.
        "You'd better not be looking up my skirt." Thatcher teased as she inched upward, receiving a small chuckle for her efforts. He said something and she glanced down. "What was that?"
        "I said Fraser'd kill me." He returned, careful to keep his eyes adjusted to the cable above him as he climbed, despite the temptation to look higher.
        "Why would Constable Fraser be upset over that?" she questioned curious and Ray realized he'd goofed big time.
        "Um...ah..he..he'd think it was ..y'know.. un- chivalrous." Ray lied quickly. "Y'know how he is about dat stuff." Thatcher seemed content with his answer and for a moment they continued their slow ascent to the floor above in silence. Suddenly she heard Ray gasp and felt the cable jerk violently. She glanced down and saw that Ray's grip had slipped and he was now hanging on a quite a few feet below her now.
        "Are you okay?" she demanded concerned.
        "Just keep climbin'." He called back, pain etched his voice and there was desperation in his eyes when he did meet her gaze.
        "I'll wait for you." She insisted, but he shook his head then groaned again.
        "Get movin' Thatcher." He ordered gruffly. "Go get Fraser."
        "You're hurt!" she exclaimed as she started to inch downward toward him.
        "NO!" he protested angrily. "Damnit, just go! I can't climb anymore...,my ribs, I think they're broken and I just pulled my shoulder out of joint when I grabbed da cable ta stop my fall." Thatcher gasped, he was only holding on with one hand? He must be in agony. "Please Meg, just go on, get help." Thatcher nodded and continued her climb as quickly as she dared. She didn't want to leave him, but she had to get help. She made it to the elevator doors of the upper floor, just as they opened and Fraser, as well as a few others stood there, peering down anxiously.
        "Fraser!" she gasped in relief as she was pulled through, never being so relieved to see the handsome constable.
        "Are you all right, Sir?" he asked her quickly, his hands running over her methodologically to check for injuries. "We have been trying to get to you and..."
        "Ray!" she exclaimed as someone wrapped a blanket around her, perhaps they thought she was in shock. "He's hurt, Fraser, he can't hang on much longer." Fraser leaned over into the darkened shaft and could barely make out the blond head of his partner so far below them. He quickly started to remove his tunic and accepted a rope from one of the workers with him as someone tried to pull Thatcher away from the opening. She pushed them away, wanting to keep her eyes on Ray until Fraser had safely reached him. Fraser slid down the cable, adjacent to the one Ray hung from, coming to a stop beside his friend.
        "Hello Ray." Fraser greeted gently, taking in his friend's pallor and shaky grip on the cable. His other hand hung limply at his side as Fraser started to tie them together.
        "Hey Frase." Ray managed to return. "What's happenin'? Where ya been?" Fraser smiled.
        "Looking for you and Inspector Thatcher, Ray." He informed as, one handed he carefully positioned Ray onto his back. "Can you hang on to me Ray?"
        "No." Ray refused stubbornly. "But I'll try." Fraser nodded and secured the rope around Ray's waist, tying it to him as well. If the detective fell, so would Fraser, but he wasn't about to let that happen.
        "Did you and Inspector Thatcher have a nice visit, Ray?" Fraser teased, wanting to keep his friend talking, for it looked as though Ray was about to slip into unconsciousness.
        "Sure, Frase." He murmured sleepily, his pain giving away to the urge to accept the darkness that was making his head swim. He was safe now, Fraser would take care of him, so he could sleep.
        "Talk to me Ray." Fraser demanded as he climbed the cable, careful not to jostle the man on his back too much.
        "Later, Fraser."
        "Now, Ray." Fraser demanded firmly. "Don't go to sleep, you probably have
a concussion."
        "That's what Thatcher said." Ray remarked drowsily. "She's not always ice, Frase,
did ya know dat?" Fraser's hands stilted and he wondered if Ray was speaking from experience or was simply delirious.
         "Yes, Ray, I am aware of that." He offered as he continued the climb.
         "She's still a bi.."
         "Ray!" Fraser admonished, biting back a smile, well, at least Ray's humor was still there.
         "What?" he whined. "I was just gonna say she's still a bit to prissy and cold at times." Fraser nodded unconvinced.
         "Of course you were Ray." He agreed as they finally reached the doors and were pulled through. Ray was set carefully on his back as Fraser checked his injuries, Thatcher leaned over him concerned and he offered her a sly grin.
         "Hey, fancy meetin' you here." He taunted, despite his pain and she smiled warmly at him, something Ray considered a gift, for it wasn't an action she used often.
         "You certainly are something detective." She commented shaking her head wryly and ray grinned, which quickly turned to a grimace as Fraser checked his shoulder.
         "You've dislocated your shoulder, Ray." He informed. "I'm going to have to push it back in." Ray's eyes flared in panic.
         "Ah...no, I like dis way, really."" He protested but Fraser had already placed his hands in the necessary position.
         "It has to be done, Ray." Fraser scolded. "It will only hurt for a minute."
         "Liar!" Ray hissed, he knew exactly how long it would hurt, he had dislocated it once before when he was in collage. Fraser's lips twitched but his smile never formed.
         "Would you like to hold my hand?" Thatcher offered and Ray glared at her.
         "I'd rather hold my gun so I can shoot myself first." He shot back and she suppressed a chuckle.
         "Don't be such a baby, Ray." Fraser reproved. "On the count of three, one..."
         "No! I am not a baby and I..."
         "Two..." Fraser continued and pulled on that count, Kowalski's scream echoing through the corridor and making the other's flinch respectively.
         "W...what happened t...to three?" he croaked, as his eyes threatened to roll to the back of his head. Fraser grasped his friend's face between both his large hands.
         "Stay with me, Ray." He ordered firmly, knowing the urge to pass out after that much pain was easily tempting, as he had experienced it himself.
         "I...I think I pissed myself, Fraser." He whispered weakly and Fraser glanced down and shook his head.
         "You're fine, Ray." He assured quietly, as Thatcher wiped the sweat from the detective's brow.
         "See?" she offered teasing. "That wasn't so bad." Pleased when his eyes narrowed on her, then back to Fraser.
         "Toss her back, Frase." He suggested hoarsely. "She ain't regulation size." Fraser bit his lip to keep from smiling, unsure if laughing at the encouragement to throw his superior officer back down the shaft would help his already unstable relationship with her, but to his surprise Thatcher did laugh at his partner's comment.
         "You're just mad because I beat you to the top, detective." She taunted and Fraser realized she was also trying to keep the detective from slipping away from them.
         "Ya didn't beat me!" he refused adamantly. "I slipped and besides ya had an unfair advantage."
         "How so?" she questioned.
         "I couldn't look up ta see where I was goin'." He pointed out and Fraser was surprised to see his superior officer blush a pretty pink and look away.
         "Impossible man!" she muttered under her breath, but both heard her as she stood. Ray also climbed slowly to his feet, despite  Fraser's urging to remain stationary.
         "You should wait for the ambulance, Ray." He stated as Ray pushed past the others and headed toward the stairs.
         "I'll drive to da damned hospital, Fraser." He elected as he kicked the blockade away from the stairs.
         "Ray, those are closed..." Fraser explained hurrying after him. "The elevator..." He broke off as Ray glared at him.
         "I ain't getting' in another box, Fraser." He informed determined as Thatcher joined them.
         "Take your friend to the hospital Fraser." She insisted, giving Ray a cool glance. "Make sure they have his head examined." Ray was sure that was a deliberate shot at his intelligence and not at all regarding his injury, but he ignored it.
         "Won't you need me here, Sir?" he asked politely, though he really did prefer to go with Ray, his partner had been through a horrible ordeal, as Thatcher had, but Thatcher was not Claustrophobic and Ray was, which made it worse for him.
         "I'll manage fine." She assured, then after another quick glance at Ray, she said to Fraser. "Thank you for your help, Constable. I appreciate your ability to allow me to count on you so easily." Fraser blushed.
         "I...t...thank you Sir." He stammered surprised. She nodded firmly.
         "You may be dismissed for the rest of the day, Fraser." She decided. "Go take care of..." Her eyes narrowed pointedly at Ray again. "This trouble making yank before he causes any more damage."
        Ray blew her a kiss and she turned on her heal, hiding the smile that flashed across her face as she returned to speak with the anxious ambassador. Fraser looked from one to the other, wondering what he had missed, then followed Ray down the stairs. They had only gotten to the third landing when Ray collapsed and Fraser realized everything Ray had said and done had been a show to keep from anyone sending for the ambulance. But now with Ray unconscious, Fraser carried him the rest of the way down and drove his stubborn but loveable partner to the hospital.
 

         The following day, Kowalski was on leave from the department for his injuries, and was preparing himself some pasta on the stove, for once tired of take out, when there was a knock on his door. He turned toward it too quickly and winced, his hand automatically going to his bandaged ribs. He wore only his jeans, having not bothered with a shirt because his shoulder was achingly sensitive to the material rubbing against it. He did, however retrieve his gun, though he suspected it to be only Fraser, better safe than sorry. Holding his gun down by his thigh, he slowly opened the door and was shocked to find Margaret Thatcher on the other side. He stepped back and stared at her.
         "Fraser ain't here." He commented automatically and she smiled a little.
         "I know, he is at the Consulate finishing up some paperwork." She supplied, tapping her foot impatiently. "May I come in detective?" Ray hesitated only a moment before stepping back and allowing her inside. She watched him close the door and inconspicuously replaced his weapon back on his kitchen table.
         "So, what can I do ya fer, Inspector?" he asked, moving to stir his pasta and turn down the heat, so it wouldn't over cook or boil over.
         "I just had a few things I needed you to sign." She replied removing some folded papers from her purse. "The Ambassador wanted to express his sincere sympathy for your injuries by the way." Ray shrugged and removed the cover of the second pot to check his sauce.
         "Tell him thanks." He offered, after adding some additional spices to the sauce and tasting it. He pulled out another spoon and offered her a taste of the sauce. "Too much Oregano?" he asked as her mouth slid around the spoon. She shook her head and licked her lips.
         "No," she protested. "It's quite good actually." Ray smirked.
         "Does dat surprise ya?"
         "A little." She admitted. "I never took you as someone who likes to cook." He chuckled and replaced the lid on the sauce.
         "I never said I like ta cook." He stressed sardonically. "But I can cook enough ta keep me from starvin' and take out all da time just ain't cool."
         "I'm not much of a cook myself." She revealed with a smile. "If I can't put it in the microwave or pay someone to deliver it I don't eat it." Ray laughed and finally turned toward her, folding his arms carefully over his exposed chest as he leaned against the counter. He supposed he could go and put on a shirt, since he had company, but the idea of the discomfort it would cause his shoulder made him decide against it.
         "So, what are da papers?" he asked, pointing to the folded sheets in her hand. She glanced down, as though she had forgotten why she had come.
         "Oh!" she returned and handed them to him. "Just regulation forms, since you were involved in an accident with a Canadian citizen, they need a detailed account." Ray glanced over the papers that had been no doubt dictated to Fraser or Turnbull to type up.
         "Looks like some details are missin'." he remarked coyly and watched her shift uncomfortably.
         "I don't believe our arguing was pertinent to the situation, Detective." She insisted coolly. "After all, we do it all the time, so it should make no difference whatsoever."
         "What about da kissin' part?" he suggested, pleased when two bright spots of pink tinged her pale cheeks and she compressed her lips firmly.
         "That did not happen." She decided firmly and his eyebrows' rose.
         "It didn't?" he questioned curious.
         "No, it did not." She confirmed, wishing he could just accept it and forget about it as she had ordered Fraser to do about their shared kiss on the train. Not that she truly believed the Mountie had forgotten, but it was the premise of the thing.
         "Funny, I remember it quite clearly." He grinned.
         "You were delirious." She explained. "You hit your head."
         "I believe that was after da kissin' part, not before." He informed calmly, enjoying her discomfort. She glared at him.
         "It did not happen, Detective." She insisted. "Is that understood?"
         "I ain't Fraser, lady." He said wickedly. "I won't ferget somethin' just because ya told me to." She gasped at the idea that he knew about what had transpired between her and Fraser. The Mountie would never reveal it, never! So then how could he know? He must be bluffing, he had to be.
         "I don't have any idea what you are referring to, detective." She stated indicating the papers he held and handing him a pen. "If you will simply sign those, the details have already been reviewed." Ray shrugged and took the pen, their fingers touching as they made the trade and Thatcher snatched her hand away. Ray smirked again, then turned around and placed the papers on the counter to sign. Thatcher's eyes wandered to his enjoyably nice looking posterior, quite visible in the tight denim blue jeans he wore. She noticed he had no chest hair to speak off, which she preferred in a man actually, and his deceptively thin frame was actually quite muscular.
        She remembered how those strong hands had gripped her calves as she sat on his shoulders yesterday. The way his soft hair had brushed against her most sensitive area, able to feel it even through her thin briefs, making her work with the lock that much more difficult. She hadn't been able to concentrate and perhaps she was partially to blame for his injuries. If she had remained clear-headed she might have gotten them out of there before the second drop and he might not have been hurt. Then when she had landed on top of him, her hormones went into overdrive-damn but he had smelled good, and felt so solid against her. She knew he was not totally unaffected by her when her knee had brushed against his arousal as she tried to get off of him. And that kiss! The kiss had started it all, she had tossed and turned last night thinking about that wonderfully passionate kiss. Of course she had done the same when Fraser had kissed her, so perhaps she was simply hard up for a man, any man-even an arrogant attractively annoying Chicago cop like Kowalski.
        "Here ya go." Ray offered, turning back around and handing her the papers he had refolded. She blinked, hoping he hadn't caught her staring. "Ya could a just had Frase bring 'em by."
        "Constable Fraser will be very busy the rest of the afternoon and I wanted to get these done so I could send them to Ottawa." She explained pushing the papers and pen back into her purse with a trembling hand. "I hope you are feeling better, Detective." She turned to leave and Ray called her back.
        "Wanna try my cookin'?" he suggested impishly. "Can't promise ya much but it's edible and I hate ta eat alone, as Fraser'll tell ya." Thatcher knew she should refuse, but something in the detective's voice told her he simply didn't want to be alone. Well, she was on her lunch hour, what would it hurt? She nodded.
        "That would be nice." She agreed. "Thank you." He flashed her a brilliant smile and turned to reach up for the plates, only to pull his arm back and gasp in pain. Thatcher moved toward him and reached up into the open cupboard, selecting two plates.
        "Thank you." He returned gratefully, taking the plates and setting them on the counter next to the stove. "Dere's soda, wine and I think water in da fridge." He offered. "I got coffee and tea too, dat twig stuff dat Fraser likes." Thatcher smiled and retrieved the wine. Finding two glasses in the cupboard Ray had indicated she set them on the table and poured them each a glass. Ray brought the plates, loaded with sauce and pasta to the table and they sat down to eat, Thatcher complementing him on the meal.
        "Did you cook much when you were married?" she asked, before she could help herself. Ray frowned and shook his head.
        "I cooked some," he admitted quietly as he moved his fork thoughtfully around his plate. "But Stella liked ta eat out and host dinner parties and stuff, so it wasn't often and den usually just for me."
        "Stella didn't cook?" Ray chuckled.
        "Stella couldn't tell da stove from the microwave." He commented wryly. "She's to classy ta have ta cook."
        "Wasn't that incredibly expensive, eating out all the time?" Thatcher inquired, knowing she would probably go bankrupt if she didn't attend so many dinner parties thanks to her position for the consulate-they saved her a bundle in food half the time.
        "Yah, it was one of our biggest things ta fight about." He sighed and she regretted ever bringing up the subject of his ex-wife, for he suddenly seemed to loose interest in his food and some of his earlier humor seemed to have dissipated.
        "I'm sorry if I have gotten to personal." She offered quietly. "I don't mean to pry." Ray shrugged and sat forward, resting his arms on the table as he held his wineglass between fingers, turning it slowly in a circle.
        "It's no big secret dat me and Stella had some wicked fights." He supplied dejectedly. "Kids and expenses were what we always fought about." He sighed again. "I let her have her way for the most part, but den she just...ya know sorta shut me out." He couldn't believe he was discussing his failed marriage with the Ice Queen of all people, but for some reason he couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. "I tried ta give her what she wanted, be what she wanted, it was never enough."
        "Perhaps she didn't try hard enough to give you what you needed, Ray?" Thatcher found herself saying.      "Marriage is give and take, and it seems all Stella did was take." Ray shrugged, though slightly surprised by her candor.
        "Stella gave a lot too." He assured. "I mean, she stayed wit me, tried ta make it work, and I know she loved me." He shook his head and took a long swallow of wine.  "I just wasn't good enough fer her. I couldn't give her what she needed an' I understand dat. She felt I was soffacatin' her, smothering' her, and I guess in a way I was." There was pain in Ray's eyes just before he adverted them to stare at the amber liquid in his glass. "I just loved her so much, y'know? I mean I wanted ta be wit her all da time, I wanted to give her all da romance and adoration she deserved, but I guess she didn't want it as much as I wanted ta give it, at least not from me." Thatcher reached her hand across the table and placed it over his.
        "She didn't deserve you, Ray." She stated quietly and he raised his eyes to hers finally. "There are so many women who dream of being treasured and loved the way you loved your wife, don't give up on the rest of us because of one bad apple."
        "Yah, sure." Ray scoffed. "Dere just linin' up waitin' fer me." Thatcher shook her head, wondering how someone so brave, so funny and kind, so arrogant could be filled with such self-doubt. Fraser was modest to a fault, she understood that, however Fraser at least seemed to like himself and Ray didn't. That was wrong.
        "They might be, Ray." She insisted. "You have a lot to offer a woman, I wouldn't be so quick to count yourself out."
        "I ain't some Greek God like, Fraser..." he protested and Thatcher quickly interrupted.
        "No one is as handsome as Fraser." She commented wryly. "Not even Fraser." Ray smiled. "The point is that Fraser considers that a count against him, his looks, while you seem to count them in his favor. Everyone is different, Ray." Ray shrugged non-commitably.
        "Ya know, yer bein' pretty nice fer someone who don't like me." He commented mischievously and she sighed and pulled her hand back.
        "I never once said I didn't like you, detective." She protested.
        "What happened to Ray?' he asked innocently and she glared at him, suspecting he was trying to start an argument with her.
        "I don't know?" she retorted pointedly. "What did happen to him?" Ray chuckled, catching her hint of his changing behavior.
        "Guess he decided ta tuck his tale between his legs and run away." He replied softly, moving from the table to return his now cold pasta to the pot. Thatcher stared down at her own half-eaten meal and sighed. How did the man change moods so quickly, and why was it so easy for him to get her dander up? She stood from the table and approached him, noticing how he kept his back to her as he just stared at the cupboard in front of him, while he gripped the counter.
        "I didn't come here to argue." She voiced regretfully.
        "Why did ya come here den?" he demanded, keeping turned away from her.
        "I..I told you, for the papers and..."
        "Ya coulda sent Turnbull over or Fraser or had a messenger bring'em." Ray retaliated. He turned toward her finally, his blue eyes glittering like newly polished steal in the moonlight, his expression unreadable.
        "I...I don't understand..." she stammered talking a step backwards, only to have Ray catch her hands and pull her against him, as he covered her mouth with his. Thatcher couldn't push him away, her hands were trapped in his, which were at their sides now. Finally, they surfaced and Ray lifted his head to look at her. He released her hands and allowed her to step away from him, fully prepared for the stinging slap that she delivered to his cheek. He raised his hand to touch the sore spot and watched her flinch.
        "I won't hit you." He enunciated carefully, so she would make no mistake that he meant it.
        "B..But you said...." She stammered.
        "I don't hit women." He stated coolly. "Not even...." He broke off and turned away from her, but not before she saw the flash of pain in his eyes.
        "Who...who else hit you?" she asked breathlessly, though she already suspected the answer. Ray shrugged and moved away to wander into the living room and look through his CD's.
        "Don't matter." He assured quietly as he selected a particular one and placed it in the player. Thatcher followed him, watching him quietly for a moment.
        "Did Stella hit you very often, Ray?" she demanded resolutely and again the detective shrugged.
        "We both got hellacious tempers." He replied; he had never told anyone that Stella was often physically violent with him, nor did he intend to.
        A woman got smacked around by her husband, it was spousal abuse, but when a man got smacked around by his wife, it was because he was a wimp, not like a real man. He had discovered this the first time Stella had hit him, with her tennis racket, and fractured his shoulder. When he admitted it to the doctor who fixed him up, the doctor said he just needed to take Stella in hand, be a man. Of course, there was also all the cracks going around about husband beaters at the precinct, drawn out by a recent case of a woman who for years had beaten her husband with whatever available, until he finally filed for divorce on the grounds of spousal abuse. He like Ray never retaliated or hit his wife back, and was made to look like a fool for it. Stella loved him, she would have never really harmed him, he knew that, it was just that she sometimes got so angry with him that she lashed out. He understood that, he was the nearest target. He had put his fist through mirrors walls, whatever closest to keep from hitting her a few times.
        "Did you ever hit your wife, Ray?" Thatcher asked, knowing she was treading on dangerously personal territory but unable to help herself.
        "I'd never hurt Stella." He returned, so quietly she almost didn't hear him, as a soft ballad by Richard Marx floated through the speakers of Ray's stereo. "I love Stella, I have never laid a hand on her in violence." That wasn't entirely true, he had grabbed her arm once or twice when she walked away from one of their arguments, but it had never escalated from that and he had apologized after. He was crouched down as he searched for another CD and she knelt beside him.
        "But she did hit you, didn't she?"
        "Sometimes." He admitted, surprising himself. "But I deserved it, so no big deal."
        "No one deserves to be hit, Ray." She stated firmly and he finally glanced at her.
        "You hit me." He reminded and she flushed from shame and embarrassment, causing him to nod acceptingly. "And I deserved it." She shook her head.
        "I appologize..." she began as he abruptly rose to his feet.
        "Don't." he growled warningly as he slowly eased himself onto his sofa and lay his head back, to close his eyes and allow the music to sooth him. Thatcher moved to settle cautiously beside him, like a dog with a bone she couldn't let this go."
          "I am sorry I hit you." She stated, her hand going to caress the red mark on his cheek left by her palm.
        "I'm not sorry I kissed you." He returned, his eyes darkening as they opened and watched her leaning over him. "I'd like ta do it again if you'd let me." Thatcher stared at him, shocked, her cheeks flushed as she snatched her hand back and Ray sighed. "Didn't think so. Da Ice Queen returns, hmmm?"
        Thatcher gasped at the remark, the urge to hit him again making her hand itch. No wonder his ex-wife...No! She was appalled at her thoughts. Hitting someone could not be justified, no matter what the reason, and the fact that Ray seemed to be urging her to commit a second violent act against him angered her. Did he enjoy being slapped, or was it simply that he couldn't help what came out of his mouth at times. She suspected the latter and before she could change her mind, she surprised him by leaning forward and capturing his mouth under hers.
        Ray let her control the kiss this time, not wanting to push her beyond what she was prepared to do, but when he felt her tongue tease at his lips he opened his mouth to her and shyly kissed her back. Thatcher was touched at his hesitancy, perhaps the detective wasn't as bold as he pretended, and she felt him jump in shock as she straddled him, deepening the kiss. No, he wasn't as arrogant and cock-sure as he was making out to be, and that gave Thatcher a great amount of pleasure indeed. She wound her fingers through his hair, careful not to press against his ribs or shoulder, as the sensation of his growing arousal heated the valley of her legs distinctly. Ray's hands caressed her now exposed thighs, as her skirt continued to ride higher toward her hips and she pressed her sex against his, receiving a guttural moan for her efforts.  Ray's hands rose to grip her hips, either to stop her movement or encourage it, she wasn't sure, but he reluctantly tore his mouth away, his breathing erratic.
            "I...you...we...better stop." He managed as Thatcher matched his confused gaze with a decidedly determined one.
        "Why?" she asked, moving to slide her tongue delicately down along the column of his throat and nibble at his collarbone.
        "Y..you want this?" he questioned in disbelief. "I..I mean wit me...ya wanna....I..I don't...what about Fraser?" Thatcher stiffened slightly and raised her eyes to his again.
        "Fraser is...I won't deny that I once entertained thoughts of...this with Fraser." She admitted huskily. "But it can never be between us." She stared at him, her lips making the most desirable pout Ray had ever seen. "Are you turning me down, detective?"
        "I don't wanna hurt Fraser." He stated quietly. "He had feelings fer ya, Meg."
        "He knows it won't work either, Ray." She determined. "We've actually discussed this and we have agreed."
        "You discussed you sleepin' wit me wit Fraser?" Ray exclaimed, deliberately misunderstanding and she slapped his chest playfully as she blushed.
        "No! About Fraser and I ...sleeping together I mean." She declared embarrassed and Ray laughed, his hand rising to cup her head and pull her forward.
        "C'mere." He urged claiming her lips once again. God she tasted so good, so sweet, he could kiss her forever. This kiss didn't last as long as the first one and Thatcher was disappointed when Ray pulled away again. " Hmmm, nope, no ice dere." He murmured nuzzling her neck and she offered him a dazzling smile. "Hot, very, very hot is what you are, Meg." She blushed again in delight as she felt his hands scoop her off his lap and stand.
        "You're ribs!" she protested as he started toward the bedroom.
        "Will be more comfortable on da bed." He finished, carefully laying her on the dark comforter that covered his large bed. He was glad he had put on clean sheets, or rather his mother had, just this morning, as he carefully positioned himself next to Thatcher. She smiled as he raised up on one elbow to stare down at her, caressing her cheek tenderly, then her lips, which were pink and slightly swollen from his kisses.
        "What are you staring at?" she demanded in her best Thatcher tone and he smiled.
        "Are ya sure about dis?" he demanded softly. "We don't have'ta, y'know do anything ya don't want to. I mean, if you wanna talk we can talk, if ya wanna just kiss dat's cool to..."Thatcher interrupted him by pulling him down to her and pressing her lips to his.
        "You talk to much." She said against them, as he opened his mouth and closed his eyes, content to let her have her way with him.
 

        Margaret Thatcher glanced up as the knock sounded at her door and a flustered and excited Constable Turnbull stood waiting to be admitted. She sighed and waved him in.
        "What is it Constable?" she demanded, as Turnbull placed a beautiful floral arrangement on her desk with great melodramatic air.
        "These came for you, Sir." He revealed in delight, and Thatcher was only mildly surprised by his enthusiasm, after all, Turnbull; got excited watching paint dry for heaven's sake. She barely glanced at the flowers, before turning her attention back to her paperwork.
        "Thank you, Constable." She replied dryly. "You are dismissed. " Turnbull stared at her disappointed.
        "Aren't you going to see who they are from, Ma'am?' he inquired curiously. "I mean, it is such a beautiful arrangement and it isn't everyday someone gets flowers and..."
        "That will be enough, Turnbull.' She insisted fixing him with her best reproving stare. "I am busy at the moment, I will look at them later. Don't you have something you should be doing?" Turnbull stammered nervously, having been put back in his place.
        "Oh my yes, sir. Certainly I do, I have much to do, of course not as much as you do after all you are far more important and not that I mind having so many things to do, in fact I quite enjoy the duties you assign me and..."
        "Turnbull!" Thatcher warned. "Get out of here now!" Turnbull scrambled to leave, closing the door behind him. Thatcher waited a moment, until she heard the Mountie walking away from her office, then quickly stood and reached for the beautiful bouquet, lifting them closer and inhaling their fragrant scent. She set them back down and eagerly snatched up the small card inside.
        "Do you have that dream?" She read aloud and though it wasn't signed, she knew who had sent it and what the simple phrase meant. She held the card to her chest and sniffed her flowers again with a wistful sigh. Was she one of the women she spoke to the detective about, the ones who dreamed of the kind of romance and love he had to offer?
        She didn't know, honestly. She had mostly given up on the whole thing of a prince charming long ago. She had to struggle to the top, because she was a woman, the battle had been a difficult one, fending off disbelief and unwanted advances, but she had made it and her position commanded respect. At the same time, her position also intimidated most men she found interesting, giving her little chance to explore a steady relationship with anyone. She had though Fraser would be her Prince Charming, but it simply wasn't meant to be between them. Besides, although there was a great deal of chemistry between them, she suspected that Fraser was in love with someone else, despite his attempts to hide that love. She sighed and placed the card from Ray in her purse and found the perfect position for the flowers on her desk. Well, enough dreaming, back to work. She had just settled in her seat when Turnbull came knocking again and she sighed in aggravation.
        "What is it?" she demanded sharply and Turnbull stepped inside to hand her a small white envelope.
        "T....this just came for you, Sir." He offered handing it to her. "A..and Constable Fraser asked me to inform you that he is going to lunch with Detective Vecchio." Thatcher glanced up.
        "Ray...I mean is the detective already here?" she asked, trying to sound disapproving to hide the pleasure in her voice.
        "He and Constable Fraser are speaking privately in his office, Sir.' Turnbull informed. "They will leave directly after." Thatcher nodded and waved him away.
        "Fine, you're dismissed, Turnbull."
        "Yes Sir." Returned the Mountie dutifully, as Thatcher rose from her chair and tore open the envelope, just on the chance that it was from Ray. It was, he was asking her to dinner this evening. She  quickly headed out of her office and toward Fraser's, just as the two men started down the hall toward her, trying to decide where they would go to eat. Fraser stopped immediately and nodded to her politely.
        "Sir." He greeted. "With your permission I would like to accompany Detective Vecchio to lunch." Thatcher nodded quickly, perhaps too quickly, but she schooled her features to remain firm.
        "If you must, Fraser." She returned. "Turnbull did inform me of your plans." She glanced at Ray. "How are you detective?" Ray grinned at her and rocked on his heals as he played with the toothpick between his lips.
        "I'm hunky dory, Inspector." He returned wickedly. "How're you?"
        "I am well, thank you." She returned politely, but she noticed Ray's eyes dart to the envelope and note she still held tightly in her hand.
        "Whatcha got planned fer da evenin'?" he inquires innocently. "Some fancy ball or do-dad?" She shook her head, willing her lips not to return his smile.
        "I have a dinner date, detective." She informed, her eyes acknowledging whom the date was with and his grin widened. "And you?"
        "Oh, I'm meetin' a friend." He returned slyly. "She's a real babe, we may just sit around and discuss whatever pops up." Thatcher hoped the heat in her cheeks went unnoticed at his remark.
        "Well, constable." She turned her attention back to Fraser. "Enjoy your lunch." Fraser nodded, surprised.
        "Thank you, Sir." He replied dutifully as Thatcher turned away from them and headed back to her office.    "Sir?" She turned back.
        "Yes, Fraser?"
        "Was there something you wanted?" he inquired curiously, then she remembered she didn't have a reason to be headed for his office earlier.
        "I'll get it later." She dismissed and walked back to her office as the two men headed out. She had just started to close her door when she heard Kowalski singing Ice-Ice baby as they passed. She closed her door quickly and smothered her giggles with her hand, the man was incorrigible!
 

The end?