Author's Website: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Gallery/8741/jmgarden.htm

Disclaimer:

Author's Notes: This story is a sequel to "BLOOD ON THE SNOW". The first story was originally Prospero's Speech by Loreena McKennitt is the song played during Mr. Lee's show of 'tribute' to Charlie Wong in "CHINATOWN".

Disclaimer: Alliance owns 'em, I don't, more's the pity. Comments welcome on or off-list.

SOUND OFF, SLOW MOTION (TIME IN A WINK):

The hospital waiting room is like every other hospital waiting room: drab and dreary and uncomfortable. Frannie paces back and forth as she waits, disdaining to sit on the cracked orange naugahyde couch or cracked blue naugahyde chairs. The low formica table is strewn with magazines months out of date, and the coffee machine down the hall spews out inedible coffee in cheap paper cups. She keeps looking at the door to the inner sanctum of the Surgery Wing. The Emergency Room had been crowded, noisy and nauseating. Elaine now sits on the cracked orange naugahyde couch with her arm in a sling and her eyes glassy from pain medication. She refuses to leave to go home.

Fraser is in a room under sedation. He is spared the misery of waiting to hear if Ray has survived the surgery.

There was so much blood. Frannie glances over at her tan coat draped over the arm of a chair. It is soaked in blood. Elaine's police jacket is in the same condition, but is harder to tell because it is dark blue. Neither one can stand to look at Ray's dark-red coat on another chair, because the color is supposed to be pearl-gray.

Harding Welsh and Jack Huey arrive. They have nothing new to report. The shooters got away. Frannie bites back her fury. She knows that it wasn't their fault that there had been an ambush outside the 27th Precinct. She looks at the snow outside. It's going to be a bad storm.

Welsh walks over to Elaine and gently inquires as to her condition. Elaine answers in a monotone, rocking slightly in the chair. Jack squeezes Frannie's shoulder. He asks a question.

Frannie looks at him with haunted eyes. She wipes away a tear. His face is sad as he hears her answer. He looks down at expensive Italian footwear. Ray had gotten him all fired up about Armani clothes and shoes.

The second hand on the round clock on the wall drags around the face. The silver frame is bright and shining. Jack wonders who gets up there to clean it.

Welsh's cellphone beeps. He goes off to a corner and murmurs, then snaps the phone shut. He shakes his head at Jack, who squeezes Frannie's shoulder again.

Time is frozen in a garish waiting room as two lives hang in the balance.

SOUND ON, (REAL TIME):

The door opened and the weary surgeon came into the waiting room. He was a man about fifty years old, with gray hair and glasses. He addressed Frannie.

"Your brother survived the surgery."

"Thank God!" Frannie cried.

"He's in Recovery right now. He's not out of the woods yet."

Welsh stood by Frannie's side. "How bad is it, Doc?"

"Detective Vecchio sustained six gunshot wounds." Frannie gasped. "Two were lodged in his right thigh. One penetrated his right set of ribs, breaking two. One shattered his left shoulder. Two hit him in the chest, one nicking a ventricle." The doctor removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then replaced the glasses. "He lost copious amounts of blood. We've given him a transfusion, but he is still weak, of course. He will have to be monitored closely for several days."

"But he's alive?" Frannie asked in a small voice.

"Yes, Miss Vecchio, he's alive." The doctor smiled slightly. "Seems he has Italian stubbornness on his side."

Frannie had to laugh, Welsh and Jack joining her. "Yes, that's true."

"Frannie."

The word was spoken so softly that Frannie almost missed it, but she heard it. She whirled and saw Elaine staring at her. She nearly flew across the room and flung her arms around her beloved.

"Ray's alive, love," she whispered, nuzzling Elaine's dark hair.

"Ben...Benton?"

Frannie turned back to the doctor. "How is Constable Fraser, Doctor?"

"Still sedated." The doctor frowned slightly. "He is Detective Vecchio's partner?"

"Yes." Frannie's voice was tight. Was this man going to make a homophobic comment?

"I was curious. The Constable is obviously a Mountie. I just wondered what he was doing in Chicago as partner of one of our policemen."

Welsh nearly guffawed. "It's a long story, Doc."

"Yes, it takes nearly two hours to tell," Jack added.

The doctor was still confused but he had other patients to see. "Only family can visit the Detective." Frannie tensed again. "Benton is Ray's life partner."

The doctor sighed. "I'm afraid their relationship is not recognized..."

"Under Illinois law, the rights of gays has improved, Doctor," Welsh said firmly.

The doctor nodded. "It doesn't matter. Constable Fraser is under heavy sedation. He won't be able to break it for quite some time."

Elaine and Frannie exchanged glances.

Welsh and Jack were gone. Frannie sat beside Elaine, waiting for her first visit in ICU. The door to the waiting room opened and she glanced at the newcomer.

Frannie froze. She let a heartbeat go by, then stood up with a dangerous expression on her face, fists on hips.

"What the hell are doing here?"

Frankie Zuko smiled. He walked over to Frannie. "I'm here to see if you need anything."

"After the hit, you mean?" Frannie spat.

Frankie nodded. "It was a hit." He blocked her sudden swing at his face. "Whoa! Not by me!"

"Who, then?"

"You know who."

Frannie bit back her retort. Of course she knew who did it. Bringing down a Mafia chieftain and high political officials had made Ray a target.

"Which ones? The Family or the politicians?"

"I don't know exactly. Probably both."

"They used cop uniforms."

"I know."

"Why are you really here?"

The smirk was still in place, but there was a trace of sadness. "You know why."

Frannie took a deep breath. Yes, she knew why. She remembered how close her brother and Frankie had been as kids. She knew what she suspected. She knew that the most virulent form of hate was love gone bad.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Pleased that she was even considering his expertise, he answered, "Find out who really did it."

"So you think you can do a better job than the Chicago PD?"

He smiled again. "Darlin', you know that this Department will do a Dallas because of who's involved. Listen, certain...elements...of the Family did their job well in '63." He winked. "Or did you think that Jack Ruby was just a strip club owner?"

She grudgingly acknowledged his words with a toss of her head. She knew that he could do a better job than the Department. She had grown up in the neighborhood. She understood perfectly.

"Find out, Frankie. Don't play vigilante. Don't bury it. Let the whole world know who did it."

He nodded. He glanced at the doors leading to ICU. "How is he?"

"Not good." She relented when she saw the quick flash of pain across his face. "I'm going to visit him in fifteen minutes. He survived surgery."

"He's a fighter," Frankie said softly with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yeah, he is." As he turned away to leave, she said, "Frankie, he loves Fraser. If you hurt the Mountie, Ray will kill you, even if he has to come back from the grave to do it."

She didn't see the sadness that crossed his face. "I know that. The Constable is under Ray's protection." He paused. "As Ray is under mine."

He left, and Frannie felt her heart slow. A cold hand touched hers. She looked down at Elaine, whose eyes were clearer but laced with pain.

"Don't trust him, Frannie."

Frannie squeezed the cold hand. "I wouldn't, but he has honor. Twisted honor, but it's there. And he will protect Ray always because Ray is under his protection, and Benton because he's under Ray's protection." She looked at the closed door to the hallway. That was the Code, and any full-blooded Italian understood it.

She sat back down next to Elaine.

SLOW MOTION (TIME IN A WINK):

PROSPERO'S SPEECH (LOREENA MCKENNITT)

Deep in drugged sleep, he thrashes and moans. His body twitches and he shakes uncontrollably.

Suddenly, he awakens, eyes wide with horror. In a grief-induced stupor, he stumbles out of bed.

His instincts still work. He can get into ICU without being seen. The nurses have an emergency on their hands with one of the patients. He slips into his Beloved's room.

The sound of the beeping monitors sounds loud, crushing. He puts his hands over his ears. Then he lurches toward the bed.

His Beloved sleeps.

Benton Fraser slides to his knees, his hand blindly reaching out and taking his Beloved's. He rocks back and forth, tears streaming down his ravaged face. He keens silently, his heart breaking. Blood flows, pooling at his knees. All he can see is blood. Snow-ravaged blood. Ray-ravaged blood.

He begins to scream...

Outside the station, Welsh bends down and picks up the bloody crucifix embedded in the snow, a bloody outline remaining in cold white.