Author's webpage: http://www.chisp.net/~zoerayne/

Author's disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to Alliance, Warner Brothers, or Bright Kaufmann Crane Productions and I haven't asked permission to play with their toys (naughty me). If you don't recognize it, it belongs to me. Please do not archive, repost, etc., without the author's permission. I'm doing this only for fun and the enjoyment of fellow Duesers, not for profit. I don't intend copyright infringement--and I don't actually have anything of value so it'd be pointless to sue me anyway.

Author's notes: Warning: This is slash, but it is not a Benny/Ray relationship piece.

Thanks to R'rain, P.J. and Mitch for their help with beta reading. I couldn't have done it without you guys! A "thank you" to my husband is also in order; he's my proofreader, beta reader, idea man, and so much more!

TYRANNOSAURUS REX
(c) 1997 by Zoe Rayne <zoerayne@chisp.net>

"So, what do we do with it, Benny?" Ray asked, staring down at the giant, yellowed bone lying among stacks of televisions, VCR's and fur coats.

"Well, I'm sure someone has noticed that it's missing, Ray."

"Like the dinosaur it came from, for one." Ray couldn't help his tone, Benny brought out the smart-aleck in him.

Fraser studied the bone carefully for a moment, ignoring Ray's comment. "First metatarsal bone of a _Tyrannosaurus rex_," he announced decisively.

"You know this?" Ray was, as usual, amazed by the Mountie's store of knowledge.

"Note the prismoid shaft which tapers gradually from the tarsal to the phalangeal extremity. Definitely a metatarsal. Taking into account the length-to-thickness ratio brings me to the inescapable conclusion that it is a first metatarsal. It's obvious, Ray."

"Obvious to you, maybe. So what'd your guy want with an old dinosaur bone?"

"Metatarsal," Benny corrected.

"Okay, metatarsal. What'd Sinclair want with an old metatarsal?"

"How should I know?"

Ray sighed, exasperated. "Well, I thought maybe it was a Canadian thing. You know, 'Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you'll have good luck' only with a dinosaur bone or something."

"Don't be silly, Ray. The Inuit have something similar to your lucky penny ritual, but it involves the umbilical cord of an otter and it goes-"

"Can we focus here, Benny? This is not the Territories, and that," he pointed to the giant bone lying on the floor at their feet, "is not an otter's umbilical cord, thank God."

"I really don't know what he wanted with it. Perhaps he's a kleptomaniac. Perhaps he has a particular fondness for dinosaurs. As I understand it, the Canadian government wants to extradite him and try him on possibly hundreds of theft charges."

"Good luck! From the looks of this room he's committed plenty of crimes in the U.S. too, and I'm sure the Chicago D.A.'s office would like to talk to him. I'm glad he's not my problem. All I hafta do is take him in and book him. And maybe return some of the stolen goods, if we can find the owners."

***

"Good news, Benny," Ray said as his friend opened the door of the Riv the next morning. "We've found the owner of the bone. And the museum he's displayed in."

"Very funny, Ray." After two years, Fraser took the detective's teasing in stride. "So where did Sinclair steal it from? And why?"

"The American Museum of Natural History in New York City reported it missing. As for his motive...well, apparently it was an impulse thing. He was visiting the museum and noticed a disturbance in one of the exhibits. As everyone, including the guards, rushed over to see what was going on, he relieved ol' T- Rex of his toe."

Ray smiled to himself, holding back the best part of the story and wondering if Benny would think to ask the right question.

"What was the disturbance? It must've been spectacular to get the museum guards to abandon their posts."

//Bingo,// Ray thought. "Apparently one of the curators was found naked and asleep with his girlfriend in the Cro-Magnon exhibit." Ray grinned widely. "As a matter of fact, we're meeting the curator tomorrow at three."

"Ray, what are you talking about? Are they coming here to reclaim the museum's first metatarsal?"

"Nope, we're going to New York." Ray snuck a sideways glance at Benny's face. "You've never been to New York, right? You're gonna love it!"

"I can't go with you, Ray. I have to work. It is unlikely that Inspector Thatcher would let me take time off on this short notice." Fraser began to wonder if the detective hadn't gone off the deep end.

"I called the museum's board of directors and arranged it all. We fly out tomorrow morning. The Dragon Lady specifically requested that you go with me, since the thief was Canadian." A conspiratorial look crossed his face. "I think she wants you to smooth things over with the curator. God forbid Canada should get a reputation for breeding metatarsal thieves." He laughed.

***

The flight was a pleasant one with Ray pointing out landmarks in his "Tourist's Guide to New York City" and Fraser sharing appropriate Inuit stories. When the plane finally touched down and they made their way to a cab, Fraser was speechless.

"I didn't realize that there was a place more...you know...than Chicago." He looked startled as he realized what he'd said. "No offense, Ray."

"None taken."

Ray was enjoying watching Fraser out of his element once again. It reminded him of the naive Mountie who'd walked into the holding cells looking for "Detective Armani." He smiled at the memory. They'd been through a lot in the past two years-emotional ups and downs, gunshot wounds, searches for extraterrestrials, and even amnesia.

Traffic was a nightmare but Ray was completely undaunted. As far as he was concerned, this was a mini-vacation, and he was going to enjoy it to the fullest. They made a brief stopover to drop their luggage at their hotel and when they finally pulled up at the museum it was almost three. Ray paid the cab driver and handed Fraser the cardboard box containing the metatarsal.

Ray pushed open the front doors of the museum and flashed his shield at the nearest guard. "Chicago P.D.," he said. Nodding at Fraser, he continued, "He's a Mountie."

"Royal Canadian Mounted Police," Fraser said, reaching one hand out from under the box and juggling his burden. "Constable Benton Fraser, at your service."

The guard ignored the proffered hand and looked again to Ray.

"We're here to see Mr. Geller. We've got an appointment at three," Ray explained.

"Follow me." The guard was curt, turning on his heel and leading the two men along corridors and into the administrative portion of the museum. He stopped at a closed door. "There you are," he said, heading back the way they'd come.

Ray reached out and knocked on the door. An engraved nameplate placed at eye-level read "Ross Geller, Curator."

"Come in." The male voice was muffled but understandable.

Ray opened the door and waved Benny in ahead of him. The room was small and crowded with a large desk and several over-stuffed chairs. Its occupant was tall and thin with unruly dark hair that had been moussed into submission.

"Mr. Geller, I'm Ray Vecchio, Chicago P.D., and this is Constable Benton Fraser, R.C.M.P. We've brought back your stolen dinosaur bone."

Fraser held the box out and Ross took it, tossing it to floor behind his desk. Noticing Fraser's puzzled expression, he explained, "It's just a cast. But thanks for returning it."

***

"How could you not know that it was a cast, Benny? You know everything."

"I most certainly do not know everything, Ray. However, in this instance you're correct. I should have tasted it. Had I done so, I would have known immediately that wasn't an authentic first metatarsal. Is that Central Park?" he pointed across the street from the museum.

"Yeah, that's it. C'mon, he said the place is right around the corner. Hurry up, I need some coffee."

"Hey!" They turned to see the curator jogging to catch up with them. "I finished up and thought I'd join you."

The coffeehouse was called Central Perk and was located, predictably enough, across from Central Park and not far from the museum. Ross led them through the light evening crowd and directly to a large, cushy couch in the middle of the room. Without warning a dishwater blonde in a short skirt and waitress apron threw herself into Ross's arms.

"Hi, honey," she said.

Her tone was perky and just a touch too sweet in Ray's opinion.

"Rachel, I want you to meet some people." Ross introduced his girlfriend to the pair, explaining, "They found the stolen metatarsal cast."

"Oh, I'm so glad you found it. That was so embarrassing." She turned her attention back to Ross, who was turning a bright red and diligently studying his shoes. "Honey, I've got to get back to work. Gunther's in a mood today."

While she was talking, Ray turned to Fraser and said quietly, "I can see why no one noticed the theft."

"Hmmm?" Fraser was studying his surroundings with interest.

"Lemme guess. They don't have coffee bars in Alert?"

"Not really, Ray. There was a small family-run eating establishment, but they served a coffee substitute made with chicory and ground acorns. I never really developed a taste for it."

"I'm not surprised." Ray sat down, his lanky frame settling easily into the contours of the couch.

"Well," Ross said, turning back to them. "How do you like New York City so far?"

"It seems to have a disproportionately high number of transients- -"

Ray interrupted, "It's a nice city. Fraser's just not used to places that have a population of more than ten people. And that's during tourist season."

Fraser started to object but was silenced by the appearance of a blonde woman carrying a guitar case.

"Phoebe, this is Detective Ray Vecchio and Constable Benton Fraser. This is my friend Phoebe," Ross said.

"Oh, wow! I've never met a real live Forest Ranger before," Phoebe enthused.

"No, ma'am. I'm a Constable with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Also known as Mounties."

"Why are you called Mounties?" she asked.

"Because we ride mounted on horseback," Fraser explained.

"Wouldn't that make the horses the 'mountees' and you the 'mounters'?"

Phoebe looked at him guilelessly and Fraser wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"It's just a nickname," Ray interrupted. "Besides, nothing the Canadians do makes sense. Pretty soon you just learn to accept it."

"Oh." She appeared lost in thought for a moment before perking up again and continuing, "Anyway, you guys won't believe what happened to me at work today. We're having this, you know, holiday special where you get a free aromatherapy treatment with your massage. It's in honor of the festival of P'an-chin-lien, the Chinese Goddess of herbs..."

"Actually," Fraser said, "Hsi Wang Mu is the Goddess who protects the herb of immortality and cures disease. In Chinese mythology she is also called the 'Royal Mother of the Western Paradise.' In early works she was described as a terrible creature with a human face, tiger's teeth and a leopard's tail. In that guise she was a deity of plague and pestilence. By the time of Taoist writings, however, she had transformed into a beautiful, gracious Goddess who lived in a palace and guarded the herb of immortality. P'anchin -lien, on the other hand, is the Goddess of prostitutes."

"Yeah, uh huh, whatever. Anyway...this really nice guy came in for a massage and we started talking and you'll never guess what! It turns out that he's in the music business. A producer or something. Anyway, when I told him I was a musician, he asked me to play for him. So I invited him to Monica's dinner party thingy tonight."

"Are you sure that's going to be okay with Monica?" Ross asked, doubt evident in his voice.

"Of course. You know how she likes to make people eat those...things she makes."

"I'd love to hear you play, as well," Fraser said. "I'm kind of an amateur musician myself. I've been known to sing with the Musical Ride."

"The what?"

"The Musical Ride. It's a group of Mounties who perform on horseback," Fraser explained.

"They must go through a lot of guitars that way," Phoebe said.

Fraser opened his mouth to correct her and then changed his mind. "Would you mind singing a song for us?" he asked instead.

"I can't right now, but why don't you and whats-his-name over there come to Monica's tonight, too? I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"We'd love to." He turned to the detective. "It is all right with you, isn't it, Ray?"

Ray sighed. "Yeah, sure, Benny. Whatever you want."

"We'll be there."

***

There had been a brief, frantic discussion between Ross and Monica when the trio had arrived at her apartment. The siblings had spoken quietly in a corner of the comfortable apartment, the willowy brunette finally relenting and setting three more places at the table. More discussion ensued and she finally pushed Ross in the direction of their visitors.

"Um..." Ross looked uncomfortably at Benny and Ray. Then he looked at his sister, who nodded furiously at him. "Are either of you guys married?" he finally asked.

"Detective Vecchio is divorced and I myself, have never been married," Benny answered, unworried by the strange question.

A quick smile crossed Monica's face. "Yes!" she hissed, then looked over to where the two men were standing and blushed, aware that her voice had carried further than she intended.

Slowly the dinner guests began to arrive. The first was Phoebe, lugging her guitar case in with her and propping it up against the back of the couch.

"Hi!" She waved brightly at the Mountie and headed for the refrigerator, rummaging for a drink.

"Hey, get out of there," Monica said. "You'll spoil your dinner!"

"Yes, Mother."

The next time the door opened, it revealed Rachel and an unfamiliar couple.

"Hey, Mon," Rachel said, "look who I found at Central Perk- Janice and Chandler. It's okay that I invited them over for dinner, isn't it? This guy, the one you're trying to impress, he won't mind a couple more people here, right?" Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Ross by the sleeve and tugged him into another room, shutting the door behind them.

Monica poured herself a glass of wine and gulped it down before turning back to the food preparation with a tight smile.

"Oh. My. Gawd." Janice stood staring at the man in the red serge uniform, looking for all the world like a kid staring into a candy shop.

"I know," Phoebe said, conspiratorially, "but he's not a Forest Ranger. He's a Mountie."

"A Mountie," Janice repeated. "What's a Mountie doing in New York?"

"Returning a first metatarsal to the American Museum of Natural History, actually," Fraser answered.

"A what?"

Janice's nasal New York whine was beginning to get on Ray's nerves. He said, "A dinosaur bone. It was stolen. We found it. We returned it. End of story."

"And you would be the special liaison for the Canadian dinosaur bone retrieval office?" Chandler asked.

"No. I'm Ray Vecchio. Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department."

"Oh, forgive me. Where are my manners? I'm Constable Benton Fraser of the RCMP."

Fraser extended his hand to Chandler, who stared at it as though it were covered in something disgusting.

Janice quickly reached out and took Benny's hand in hers. "Pleased to meet you, Benton. I'm Janice." She smiled predatorily at him. Chandler elbowed her in the ribs and she continued, "And this is my boyfriend, Chandler Bing."

***

Janice and Chandler stood in the hallway, Chandler looking particularly uncomfortable with the ongoing conversation. Strains of music floated through the closed door of Monica's apartment.

"Chandler, sweetie. How much do you love me?" Janice wrapped her finger in a coil of her hair, looking at him coyly.

"Why?" Chandler asked. "What are you going to try to talk me into this time?" He stood with his arms folded across his chest and a wary expression on his face.

"What do you think of the Mountie?" she asked, not answering his question.

"He's Dudley Do-Right-a good deed waiting to happen. Why?"

"Do you think he's attractive?" Janice pressed.

"Oh, no. Oh no. I can see where this is going." He shook his head vehemently.

"I helped you live out your fantasy, Chandler Bing," she said accusingly. "And let me tell you, sitting in a tub full of lime jello is not nearly as much fun as it sounds!"

"Yeah, but my fantasy didn't have a penis!" He emphasized the last word, stabbing the air in Janice's direction with his index finger.

"Do you know how hard it is to get jello out of your hair? All of your hair?" she countered, a dangerous look in her eyes.

"Fine." His tone indicated that it was anything but fine, but that he wasn't going to argue with her anymore. "If you can get him to, I will." He just hoped that the Mountie wouldn't be interested.

***

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bouffay," Benny said, extending his hand to Phoebe. "I enjoyed our musical interlude. I hope there are no hard feelings."

"Oh, no," Phoebe replied, ignoring his hand. Her expression was hard and her voice tight. "I'll be sure to look for your CD when it comes out." She turned on her heel and closed the apartment door behind her with an attitude that said it had better damn well stay closed.

"I really am very sorry," Benny said, to no one in particular. Turning to Ray, who was sitting on the couch, he continued, "I had no idea that the gentleman would be interested in my limited singing talents. It would have been rude to refuse to sing with her when she asked me to."

"It's okay, Benny," Ray said, his attention mildly distracted by Monica, who was refilling his wineglass. "That was a great meal," he said to her. "And I'm Italian, so I know what I'm talkin' about."

She smiled her first real smile of the evening. "I'm glad you liked it. I'm not sure if I'll hear from Mr. Byers again, though."

"Why were you tryin' to impress him, anyway?" Ray asked.

"He owns a catering company in Los Angeles and is looking for someone to run the New York division he's opening. I was trying to demonstrate my 'amazing culinary skills' for him." She sat down on the couch next to him, putting the wine bottle on the coffee table.

"I guess no one's audition turned out right tonight. I hope we didn't lose the job for you," Ray said earnestly, reaching out to take her hand.

"Poor Phoebe. I think she's probably even more depressed than I am," she said.

"I could help cheer you up," Ray said, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it.

"Ray, shouldn't we be getting back to our hotel now?" Benny interrupted, looking at his watch.

"Not now, Benny."

Janice chose that moment to launch her attack. "Benton, Chandler and I were wondering if you'd like to come across the hall to his apartment for a nightcap." She smiled her best, brightest smile.

"Well, I don't usually drink. And I've already had a glass of wine tonight..."

"Go, Benny. Have a nightcap with them. It would be rude to refuse," Ray said, never taking his gaze from Monica's face. Two years of working with the Mountie taught him that politeness was the man's biggest weakness.

"Well, if you say so, Ray." He turned to Janice and smiled, "I'd be happy to."

***

"What would you like to drink?" Janice asked.

"Actually, milk would be quite nice, if you've got it."

Janice opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Pulling out a quart carton of milk, she looked at the expiration date. "Next week. That's amazing, Chandler. You've got good milk in your fridge."

Chandler dodged the foosball table and snatched the carton from her hands. "Don't open it!" he said. "It's from last year."

Carefully, carrying it as though it were a nuclear device, Chandler opened the front door and headed out to the dumpster with the offending carton.

Janice poured Benny a glass of cheap wine from the box that Chandler's roommate, Joey, had bought to impress his last date. "So what's a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman doing with a Chicago cop?" she asked.

"Well, I actually work at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. Ray and I met on a case and now we work together. Unofficially, of course." He sipped politely at the wine, trying not to flinch at its bitterness.

"So, do you have a girlfriend back home?"

Benny nearly choked. "Not at the moment. There was a woman once, but it didn't work out," he answered honestly.

"Why not?" Janice asked.

"Because I sent her to prison. I don't particularly like talking about it," he said in a tone that discouraged further inquiry.

Janice took his glass from him and refilled it. Handing it to him, she pursued another line of attack. "You know, Chandler finds you absolutely fascinating."

"Really?" Benny reflexively took a gulp from his glass. The world was starting to look a little odd. "Why, exactly?"

"Well, that uniform, to start with. And you're a very attractive man, you know."

"Ah." Benny handed the glass back to her and reached one hand behind him to steady himself against the foosball table. He wasn't quite sure what to make of her comments. He had noticed when the duo slipped away into the hallway to talk earlier in the evening, but he wasn't sure how it all fit in with the surreal conversation he was having with the brunette.

"To tell the truth, I think Chandler was kind of hoping you found him attractive, too." Janice handed him back the now-full wine glass.

Chandler chose that moment to return from his errand in the alley. As he opened the door, both Janice and Benny looked at him. "What?" he asked, looking over his shoulder and then down at his body. "Do I have a wino stuck to me?"

"Benton and I were just discussing how attractive his uniform is." Janice looked at Chandler, her gaze intense. "Don't you think he's attractive, Chandler?" she said pointedly.

"Um..." Chandler said, reaching behind himself for the doorknob.

"I think that Benton finds you attractive, as well. Don't you, Benton." Janice smiled at the Mountie.

Benny tossed back the last of the wine in the glass. "Um..." he said.

Janice reached out and took both men by the elbows and steered then towards Chandler's bedroom.

***

Ross and Rachel had long since retired to Rachel's bedroom, leaving Monica and Ray alone in the living room.

Ray set aside his wine glass and stood. Taking Monica's hand in his, he led her towards the other bedroom.

--fait accompli--