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Disclaimer: The characters and stories of Due South are Copyright © Alliance Communications, and are used here without permission or license. No claim to the above copyright is made by the author of this work. This work is for non-commercial use ONLY, and is produced for the enjoyment of fans only. This work is the expression of the author and the depictions of the Due South characters herein are in no way represented to be a part of Due South as depicted by the original author and copyright holder(s).

Author's Notes: Thanks to Icecat

Story Notes: This story contains violence against a small child. Medical innacuracies, vomit and one pissed off Mountie.

SUDDEN GIFT OF FATE
by
Scout

Ooh, it's hard on the man                    The child is father of the man;
Now his part is over                             And I could wish my days to be
Now starts the craft of the father.       Bound each to each by natural piety.

                     --Kate Bush--                                --William Wordsworth-

CHAPTER ONE
Wide eyed girl

It was hot. It was hot and it was sticky and Fraser sighed as he once again tossed and turned in bed trying to get comfortable. As usual the dog days of summer had brought sweltering heat and humidity to the city of Chicago which even the setting sun could do little to alleviate. Fraser flopped over onto his stomach letting his arms dangle over the side of the bed to the floor. He sighed again and Diefenbaker looked up from where he too was lying wide-awake on the braided rug at the foot of the bed. The Mountie eyed the wolf with a frown.

"Don't look at me like that. I have no control over the weather."

Dief continued to stare at him, one ear cocking skeptically. Fraser rolled his eyes.

"For the last time we are not getting an air conditioner. There's only one window and I am not blocking it off just to satisfy you. Besides if I did it would cut off your escape route and you wouldn't be able to leave the apartment like I know you do every time my back is turned."

Dief lowered his head onto his front paws guiltily.

"Yeah, I thought that would shut you up."

Just then the faint stirrings of violin music began drifting in through the open window. Fraser raised his head.

"Sounds like we're not the only ones who can't sleep tonight."

He squinted in the darkness listening intently to the ethereal notes of the oddly familiar melody.

His thoughts strayed back to an earlier time in his life and a woman he'd known. The violin song was very much like one she'd often sung. His mouth quirked into a half smile at the memory. Fraser reached across the nightstand and turned on the lamp suddenly. Dief rumbled low in his throat.

"It's nothing." The Mountie said absently as he reached under the bed and pulled out a worn looking shoebox.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and began digging through the contents of the box. Finally he pulled out a picture and stared at it thoughtfully. He was sitting in a pub booth with a young woman leaning over him from behind. Her right hand dangling over his right shoulder where the Mountie held it affectionately in his own. Both of them were smiling goofily for the camera. He rubbed his thumb tenderly over the photograph and smiled wanly.

He turned the photograph over, Cavanaugh's Nov 1990 was written there, in his hand. She had left him not long after that.

A commotion outside the window brought his attention back to the present and Fraser crossed the room to see what was happening. He climbed out onto the fire escape and saw two men engaged in a heated argument on the deserted sidewalk below. The man doing most of the yelling was a tall burly blonde, perhaps a year or two younger than the Mountie. He was gesturing wildly with his arms as he spoke and had a pronounced Irish accent. The other one was heavier and older, early fifties perhaps. He had a full head of salt and pepper hair and a bushy gray beard. Both men were dressed casually in tee shirts, jeans and work boots. In addition, the older man had a pair of heavy leather work gloves cinched into his belt, leading Fraser to speculate that perhaps the two men worked construction.

"Those Bastards!" The blonde was yelling. "They won't get away with this!"

"Get away with what?" The older man said calmly.

It was obvious that he was doing his best to soothe his agitated companion.

"Look, Lochlainn it's not like they fired you or anything right. It was just a warning. You're lucky that's all they gave you after showing up at the site drunk off your ass like that."

"I wasn't drunk. I was perfectly fine. There was no need for that bastard Kennedy to go off on me like that. Makes him feel like a big man to eat the head off a' me in front of everyone does it? Well next time he'd better watch his step or I'll knock him on his fat arse!"

The older man crossed his arms with a look on his face that said he'd heard all this before.

"Lochlainn." He said annoyed. "You and I both know that this isn't the first time something like this has happened and frankly me and the other guys are getting sick of covering for you at work. I mean get your priorities straight man, you got a kid at home to take care of don't you?"

Lochlainn looked up sharply shooting the man an extremely dirty look before grunting "Yah."

"Okay then. Take a little friendly advice and get some help or something, before you wind up losing your job and you and that kid of yours both wind up out on the street."

Embarrassed that he was eavesdropping, Fraser retreated back into his apartment quietly. He felt bad for the man Lochlainn, and he hoped he would take his friend's advice and find some help as soon as possible. As Fraser climbed back into bed, he mused that he had never seen the man before tonight. Perhaps he was new to the neighborhood. If so perhaps the Mountie could offer his own assistance, although he wasn't sure if there was anything he could do. Still it never hurt to offer. Odd, he thought as he finally began drifting off to sleep, how he'd been thinking about her and a moment later someone with an Irish accent winds up under his window. She'd had a word for things like that. What was it? Synchronicity, that was it. In the distance, the violin abruptly ceased playing and Fraser sighed and rolled over onto his side. The peacefully slumbering wolf was his last sight before finally falling asleep.

"Audrey, I really don't think this is a good idea."

"Nonsense Ben. This is exactly what you need. A chance to get out and meet people, make some friends, have a few laughs, relax a little bit. You've been months up in the territories all by yourself with no one to talk to but the polar bears. Frankly I'm surprised you haven't lost the ability to communicate with other human beings all together. It's bad enough you spend all your free time with your nose buried in a book, you've practically turned into a hermit for goodness sakes."

Ben sighed staring at his animated friend in resignation. He knew she wasn't going to let this drop. She was tired of him 'moping around her apartment' as she so succinctly put it, apparently it was having a detrimental effect on her own social life. He'd known Audrey since they were both kids living in Tuktoyaktuk. She was two years older than Ben and seemed to think that gave her the right to tell him what to do. Not that he really minded, sometimes it was nice to have someone around to make all your decisions for you that way you were spared the risk of making the wrong ones for yourself. A brief image of regal Grecian features and cascading brown curls popped into his head suddenly and he firmly pushed the thought aside not wishing to open that wound again.

"I mean you're young, devilishly handsome and unattached. Live a little for crying out loud." Audrey was going on. "Go find us a shrug and I'll order us some drinks."

"Audrey, I really don't want any-"

"Oh, would you relax! One beer won't kill you. Now go, find a shrug."

She placed a hand on his back and gave him a firm yet gentle shove towards the tables scattered around the pub. With a sigh, Ben watched his friend wind her way through the sea of people at the bar for a moment, before making for an empty booth he spotted near the back of the room. He sat down thinking how much he did not want to be here and wondered how soon he could make up some excuse to leave without seeming rude. Maybe he should have just gone home for the holidays, but somehow watching his father and grandmother endlessly sniping at one another for the entire visit just didn't seem appealing to him. Audrey on the other hand, always gave him a place to stay no matter when or for how long he happened to show up. In between patrols, he would often stay with her. There was nothing romantic between them, he slept on the couch and she in her bedroom, they were friends that was all.

Usually he didn't mind going out with her. Audrey was outgoing and she made friends very easily, sometimes it seemed as if she knew everyone in Dawson Creek by name. He admired that in her, the way she was so at ease in front of complete strangers while he on the other hand always felt awkward and self conscious with new people. Most of the time he was content to let her do all the talking while he faded into the background and merely observed. He didn't mind being known as a good listener by most of Audrey's friends, especially her girl friends who seemed to find it an attractive quality in him, but tonight he simply wasn't in the mood.

Audrey had sensed that something was wrong ever since Ben had shown up on her doorstep last week at 5 AM. He'd wanted to tell her all about Victoria and unburden himself, but somehow he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. Every time he'd tried a lump would form in his throat cutting off the words. He was beginning to think that coming here had been a mistake. More than anything he just wanted to be alone. Perhaps he should make his way back to the territories and put in for another patrol assignment, maybe work would be the best way to get his mind off his recent troubles.

He wondered what was keeping his friend, when he spied her, engaged in a deep conversation with a young blonde man at the bar. Ben studied him for a moment deciding that he was thoroughly infatuated and sighed heavily. He couldn't really blame the young man, Audrey was after all beautiful, her Cree ancestry showing in her tall slender build, deep brown almond shaped eyes and copper skin and in her long shining dark hair, but it did leave Ben in a somewhat awkward position. She was liable to be up there for hours leaving him to fend for himself, still he had wanted to be alone though he probably would have chosen different surroundings. A petite waitress with pulled back strawberry blonde hair approached him with a smile.

"What can I get you?" She asked pleasantly.

"A cup of tea would be fine for now. Thank you." Ben said returning the smile.

She nodded writing down his order on her pad as she left. Slightly bored, Ben let his gaze wander to the stage behind him. Cavanaugh's Pub regularly featured live entertainment, which unfortunately tended a little too much toward Irish drinking songs for Ben's taste. It was a shame really, since there was a fine looking if underused piano sitting right there begging to be played. He was still staring at it when a voice said from behind him.

"An feidir leat seinm?"

Ben whirled around in his seat to discover a vision in green standing before him. She was small no more than 5ft3 he guessed and fine boned as well. Her deep auburn hair was cropped short into a pixie cut, which complemented her heart shaped face and delicately pointed chin perfectly. She was pale skinned; though there was a fine dusting of freckles on her cheeks and across her small slightly upturned nose. Her lips were full and turned up on one side into a lopsided smile that brought out a dimple on her right cheek, but it was her eyes that held Ben's attention. She had the most penetrating pair of green eyes he'd ever seen in his life. It wasn't just the color, which reminded Ben of the color of the sea after a storm, it was the mischief that he saw lurking in them. He found himself unconsciously returning her smile.

"Excuse me?" He said.

"Can you play?" She asked, the words tumbling out in a soft Irish lilt. "I saw you noticing how lonely the piano is sitting up there and I wondered if you could play."

Ben's smile turned a little self-conscious. "Who me? No. That is, not really. Well not very well at any rate. I mean I did take lessons as a boy, but I haven't played in years."

The young woman tilted her head slightly. "They say you never forget. It's like riding a bicycle."

Her smile grew broader and Ben wasn't sure if he was being made fun of or not, but he felt himself blushing anyway. Just then the waitress returned with not just a cup, but an entire pot of tea and two overturned mugs on a tray. She placed the tray firmly on the table and left with a wink to the young woman.

"Thanks Fee." She said, then sat down across from the Mountie.

Ben felt vaguely uncomfortable by her close proximity, but she seemed not to notice, all but ignoring him as she turned over first one cup then the other.

"Milk?" She asked pleasantly.

"Thank you." Ben answered automatically.

She poured a small amount of milk into each cup then lifted the cover on the tea pot and peered inside eyeing its contents critically. Frowning slightly, she replaced the cover and sighed, staring at the teapot impatiently.

"You know, there's a science to making the perfect cup of tea." She said. "The key is to allow the tea to steep for exactly five minutes. Any more than that and you wind up with a thoroughly bitter concoction, any less and you might as well be drinking colored water."

She looked up at Ben and laughed suddenly. "My God, you have an intent look on your face." She said. "Are you always such a hard listener, or are you just unusually fascinated by tea preparation?"

"Actually I was just thinking that you've been sitting here for a while now and I still don't know your name."

She laughed again and Ben wondered if she did that often, just laughed whenever the mood struck her. He found himself hoping that she did.

"I'm sorry. Where are my manners? Saoirse McGowan." She said.

"Benton Fraser." He replied.

"Seer-sha." He repeated thoughtfully. "That's an unusual name."

"It's Irish."

"Is it really? I never would have guessed."

Her smile returned. "Are you making fun of me Benton Fraser?" She asked her voice amused.

Ben returned the smile. "No Ma'am." He said.

Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment before returning to the tea.

She poured the steaming amber liquid into each cup.

"Sugar?" She asked.

"No thank you."

She dropped one lump into her own cup and handed the other to Ben. "Cheers." She said before taking a deep sip.

She watched the Mountie drink, raising one eyebrow expectantly when he finished. "Well?"

"Without a doubt, that is the finest cup of tea I've ever tasted."

"Now you are making fun of me." She chuckled.

"Not at all. You really have gotten tea making down to a science."

She took another thoughtful sip. "Oh, I certainly hope you're not one of those dry scientific types who doesn't believe in anything unless you're presented with undeniable documented proof."

"On the contrary. I like to think I keep a very open mind to all possibilities. No matter how improbable they may be."

She tilted her head and looked at him as though she were contemplating a puzzle.

"You're in law enforcement." She stated suddenly. "RCMP?"

Ben's eyes widened briefly in surprise, since he wasn't wearing his uniform.

"Yes actually. How did you know?"

She raised one eyebrow enigmatically. "I'm psychic."

"Really?" He asked intrigued.

Saoirse laughed musically. "Or maybe I just noticed that giant saucer of a hat sitting on the seat next to you."

Ben looked down at his ever-present Stetson. "Of course." He mumbled almost to himself. "Though most people assume Park Ranger."

"Oh, that would have been my second guess." She said wryly. "Seriously though, I don't believe you're quite as open minded as you say you are."

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

"Call it a feeling." Her sparkling green eyes turned thoughtful. "Or, maybe it isn't your mind that's closed off, but something else... Let me see your hand." She said suddenly.

Ben blinked, unsure of where this was headed. "Excuse me?" He said warily.

"Your right hand." She clarified. She extended her own slender hand in silent invitation. "You're not afraid to hold my hand are you?" She asked, a tiny amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Reluctantly, Ben offered his right hand, which Saoirse gently took in both of hers. At her touch, a kind of jolt ran up the length of his arm and he shivered involuntarily. It wasn't unpleasant or painful or anything, but it was unexpected.

"What was that?" He asked quietly, not quite sure that he hadn't imagined the sudden sensation.

"Sorry about that." Saoirse said somewhat sheepishly. "I should have warned you. I have an unusually strong magnetic field. I can't wear watches, the batteries drain within minutes and compasses do nothing but spin aimlessly when I'm around."

Ben blinked, he'd never heard of such a thing and he wasn't all together convinced that she wasn't pulling his leg. Saoirse had been studying the palm of Ben's hand intently, when she suddenly looked up as if reading the Mountie's thoughts.

"It's perfectly true, I assure you. I never know the correct time and I exist in a permanently lost state, but on the plus side it does make for brilliant sex."

She smiled mischievously at the sudden blush that suffused the Mountie's face. "What exactly is it that you're doing anyway?" Ben asked trying to change the subject.

"Getting to know you better." She said, tracing the lines on his palm lightly with her thumb causing tiny thrills of excitement to travel up and down his spine.

"You can tell a lot about a person from his hands. For instance, your heart line tells me you have a shy gentle nature that doesn't handle rejection well. You're quite selfless and more than willing to make noble sacrifices for others. You're honest, almost to a fault and you see things with perfect clarity, things that someone else might not see at all. It also tells me you're very good at hiding your feelings and when someone hurts you, you tend to close in on yourself and prefer to be left alone.

Your lifeline on the other hand, tells me that you're patient and that you naturally tend to assume the lead in most situations. Your peers respect you, though they tend to be baffled by you at times as well. You're fair-minded with a very solid sense of right and wrong and you bring calm to chaotic situations. You're sensitive to the needs of others, but you tend to ignore your own and often wind up pushing yourself too hard.

Then there's your headline, which shows me that you have a deep respect for other people's cultures and beliefs. You have a powerful work ethic and believe that success can be achieved through persistence, determination and patience. You're compassionate and concerned with the well being of others often at the expense of your own. You possess substantial intellectual capacity and promise and you have a natural command of languages. You enjoy working with your hands and have a great deal of artistic ability. You have a gift for making the truth surface, a knack for quickly appraising a situation and great powers of perception, but you're neither arrogant nor intimidated by your abilities."

She looked up suddenly. "And you're nursing a broken heart."

The Mountie snatched his hand away as if he'd been suddenly stung and Saoirse quickly apologized.

"I'm sorry." She said softly. "I didn't mean to offend you or scare you. I just wanted..." She dropped her head with an ironic twist of her mouth. "Never mind. I'll be going now."

She got up to leave, but the Mountie stopped her with a soft "Wait."

Saoirse stopped regarding him silently. "You saw all that in the palm of my hand." Ben said staring down at the table in front of him.

"All except the bit about the broken heart, that I saw in your eyes."

Ben looked up into Saoirse's heather green eyes and considered for a moment. Was he really that easy to decipher, or was she just unusually perceptive.

"Do you believe in love at first sight Ben?" She asked suddenly. "Do you believe it's possible to meet someone once and experience a connection so deep it feels as if it's always been there spanning across a thousand lifetimes. A connection that tells you beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with? That this is the other half of your soul?"

Ben just sat there ashen faced and immobile. Unable even to speak

"Or would you simply dismiss it as nothing more unusual than say, an inner ear infection or electrons colliding in the air."

She smiled wanly. "In a way you're lucky you know. You found her. Some of us are doomed to wander."

"How could you possibly know any of this?" Ben asked, finally finding his voice.

"Maybe I'm just an extremely good judge of character." She said. "Or maybe, I get these flashes of, insight I guess you'd call them. Things that suddenly pop into my head and tumble out of my mouth before I've even realized I've said them and by then it's too late to take them back." She sighed. "Or maybe, I'm looking for an excuse to drive people away just like my father says, I don't know."

For the first time Ben noticed something. There was a certain vulnerability behind those green eyes that said she was no stranger to heartbreak herself. He flashed her a sympathetic smile.

"Funny, that's exactly what my father says about me." He said.

"In a way I think he may be right." She said slowly. "I do seem to have a particular flair for falling in love with the wrong man."

"Yes." The Mountie agreed, speaking for himself.

Suddenly they both broke out laughing. "What a couple of sad characters we are."

"Saoirse." Ben began somewhat awkwardly. "The cinema down the street is showing, "It's a Wonderful Life." Would you... Would you care to accompany me to the next viewing?"

Saoirse smiled a radiant crooked smile. "The thought of one man's life making a difference seems very appealing to me right now." She said. "I'd love to."

Ben retrieved his Stetson from the seat and stood, dropping some bills on the table as he did so.

"And I promise to try and keep all my embarrassing insights to myself." Saoirse said.

"Don't." Ben said as they went to get her coat. "Everything you said was the truth and after all, I did say I like to keep an open mind."

CHAPTER TWO
One of my turns

"Earth to Benny!"

Fraser's head suddenly snapped around to focus on Ray Vecchio. He had been staring out of the passenger side window deep in thought and hadn't even noticed the Italian speaking to him.

"I'm sorry Ray. What did you say?"

Ray eyed the Mountie, fingers drumming on the steering wheel impatiently.

"You know Benny, if I'd wanted to have a conversation with myself I could've just stayed home."

Fraser smiled sheepishly at his friend.

"I'm sorry Ray. I seem to be a bit distracted today."

"Yeah, no kidding. You haven't heard a word I've said all morning. So you wanna tell me what's bothering you?"

"It's nothing." The Mountie said sighing. "I just didn't get much sleep last night that's all."

It wasn't really a lie although there was more to it than that. The dream he'd had last night had just seemed so real, as if time had somehow reversed itself and he was once again meeting her for the first time. Her radiant lopsided smile and heather green eyes had haunted him all night and the melody of the violin had mingled with his dreams and awoken long buried memories and feelings within him. He had spent the majority of the night lying awake in bed, staring at her picture forlornly. Why was it that there was so much pain associated with the women in his past?

"I'm not surprised." Ray was saying. "You couldn't pay me to spend the night in that oven you call an apartment. Look Benny, why don't you and Dief come over to my house and crash on the couch for a few days, just until the humidity breaks. I know Ma would love to have you."

The Mountie smiled at the genuine concern in his friend's voice.

"It's very kind of you to offer Ray, but really that won't be necessary. Dief and I are fine right where we are."

A low whine issued from the wolf in the back seat and Ray laughed.

"No one asked for your opinion." Fraser said, glancing back at the wolf.

"Three words Benny." Ray said smiling. "Central Air Conditioning. We've got it and you're welcome to it, anytime. Consider it an open invitation."

The Mountie smiled and nodded at his best friend's sincere offer.

Just then he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye.

"Ray stop the car." He said as his brain processed the image.

"Why? What's the matter?"

"Trouble." The Mountie called bolting from the car.

Ray followed a step behind.

"Fraser it's my day off!" He yelled at Fraser's rapidly retreating form.

Looking heavenward the Italian Detective threw his arms up in grim resignation. "Why do I even bother?"

Fraser ran down the street until he reached the alley that he and Ray had just passed. He peered around the corner careful to remain quiet. At the end of the alley he saw two small children, a girl and a boy, backed up against the concrete wall and a large dark skinned man with a gun menacing them. The boy was maybe five or six with longish, dark, slightly curly hair and his somewhat shabby clothes hung loosely on him as if they had been handed down from someone a size or two larger. The little girl was very young, possibly three or four. She had short blonde hair and was peering out from behind the boy's back where he was shielding her body with his own. Ray came up short behind Fraser, wheezing softly from the run. He took one look at the situation and quietly drew his gun. Their eyes met in silent communication and after a moment the Mountie nodded once and Ray began slowly creeping his way down the alley. The suspect's back was to the Detective and even from here he could tell the man was high on something. He was so agitated he was shaking and he was yelling about crows or ravens or something. Great, Ray sighed inwardly why was it that the complete nuts always carried guns. He continued to slowly inch his way down the alley, not wanting to startle the suspect into shooting someone by accident. He was hoping to get directly behind the man so that he could disarm him without incident and hopefully not give him the opportunity to make hostages of the children.

Just then the boy looked up and saw him. He was a good-looking kid, except for the rather nasty looking black eye he was sporting and a split bottom lip. Ray froze, but the boy gave no indication that he had even seen the Detective and quickly returned his gaze to the man with the gun. Unfortunately the little girl had also seen him and she lacked the boy's understanding of the situation.

"Who's that?" She said pointing directly at Ray.

The boy grabbed hold of her arm and quickly tucked it behind him.

"That's Russell Lucy." He said quickly. "You remember Russell. The man with the gun."

Good boy Ray thought. Just keep him distracted long enough for me to get there. It worked, Russell hesitated but he never turned around.

"That's right." Russell said loudly. "The man with the gun. The man in charge, and you're gonna tell me what I want to know."

He was shaking but whether in anger or in fear Ray couldn't tell. The boy looked compassionately at Russell, he had extremely penetrating green eyes the Detective noticed, and shook his head slightly.

"I'm sorry Russell." He said sadly. "I don't have an answer for you."

Russell shook his head in vigorous denial. "No that's not good enough!" He shouted. "I saw the raven back at the House. He said he could see into the future. He told me you would know!"

"But I don't." The boy said quietly.

"You stop saying that! Tell me what I want to know or I'll.." He hesitated. "I'll shoot."

The hammer of the gun cocked with an audible click as Russell shoved the barrel against the boy's chest. To his credit the boy remained calm, though the color had drained from his already pale face and he was perspiring heavily. Ray was sweating as well and it was only partially due to anxiety. At 11am the temperature was already well over ninety degrees and the humid air only made it feel hotter. He brushed moisture from his brow with his forearm and stopped in his tracks, unsure of how to proceed. If he startled Russell by putting a gun in his back the boy would surely be shot, but with each moment that passed the threat of discovery grew more imminent.

The little girl had started to wail in panic and was clutching the boy compulsively. At a loss, the Detective shot a glance at the Mountie, who he knew was following at a discreet distance. Fraser too had stopped and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head to Ray's unspoken question. For now they would both have to wait, though it was damned hard for both men to just stand by and do nothing. The boy ran his tongue nervously over his bottom lip, wincing slightly at the sudden contact with the inflamed cut that he had obviously forgotten was there. He took hold of one of Lucy's hands and the little girl quieted somewhat, comforted by the reassuring contact. Ray's heart went out to the obviously kind hearted boy even as he inwardly cursed the gunman for targeting such small children. The thought of one of his own nieces or nephews at the mercy of someone like him made Ray's blood boil and it was all he could do to stand his ground.

"Russell." The boy began rather hoarsely. He cleared his throat and went on. "The raven you saw is just a tattoo. Tattoo's can't speak."

"This one did. This one spoke to me. It told me that you knew the secret language, the secret true language that you spoke to father. I saw you speak it. Don't try to deny it."

The boy's eyebrows knit in confusion for a moment until understanding suddenly lit his face.

"You mean Irish? You saw Father Behan and I speaking in Irish and now you think I can foretell the future?"

"I know you can." The man said pressing the gun even more firmly into the boy's chest.

The boy closed his eyes as if in pain, he had started to tremble slightly Ray noticed.

"Russell." He said quietly. "Irish Gaelic is just an old language that not a lot of people speak anymore, that's all. There's nothing mystical about it. I know it because my Granddad taught it to me in Belfast, but it is no more "true" than English. You can lie to someone just as easily in Irish as in English."

"The Druids spoke it and they could see into the future." Russell said stubbornly.

"Actually that's a myth." The boy said, his voice gaining strength. "If the Druids existed at all it was probably sometime between 300 and 600 AD and at that time all of Europe spoke a common language that was actually an ancient form of German."

Ray blinked, if he hadn't known any better he would have sworn that the kid had suddenly turned into a miniature version of Fraser. Come to think of it he even looked like the Canadian. Both had thick dark hair and pale skin, and fine even featured faces, but the boy's jaw was not quite as squared as the Mountie's, and his mouth was just a little wider, and his lips, slightly fuller. Still, the resemblance was unmistakable.

Lucy had stopped crying and was now sucking her thumb and staring in wide-eyed fascination at the boy. Ray glanced at the Mountie who was also staring at the boy through slightly narrowed eyes, an odd look on his face. Russell cocked his head to one side.

"Is that the truth?" He asked.

The boy nodded once. "Yeah."

"Where'd you come up with that?"

"I read a lot."

"Yeah." Russell's brow knit in concentration. "Seems to me I remember seeing you reading at Mike's House. Seems to me every time I see you, you got a book in your hands." His eyes fell on Lucy. "He reads to you."

The little girl nodded, thumb still firmly wedged between her teeth.

"What's that book? What's that book she likes so much?"

"James and the Giant Peach." Both children said together.

"Yeah. Yeah." Russell said nodding to himself.

He scratched his head and looked at the gun wedged against the boy's chest as if just realizing that he still held it. Slowly the hammer slid forward and Russell dropped the gun to his side.

"You can go." He said quietly.

Ray sprang forward at that moment, grabbing Russell from behind. He pinned the gunman's arm behind his back and disarmed him neatly.

"Chicago PD pal, don't move." He said directly into Russell's ear. "You kids okay?"

Both children nodded mutely.

Russell had begun to sob like a baby and Ray gave a disgusted sigh as he read the man his rights and handcuffed him. The boy looked at Russell sadly for a moment before digging in his pocket and coming up with a handful of tissues. Wordlessly he stuffed them into the crying man's shirt pocket before looking up into his downcast face and flashing him a fleeting lopsided smile. Russell returned the smile weakly, though tears were streaming down his face.

"I'm so sorry." He sobbed.

"I'm gonna call a squad car to pick this guy up." Ray said. "Benny."

He nodded his head toward the children indicating to the Mountie that he should stay behind with them. Diefenbaker ran straight up to the boy and immediately began nuzzling the palm of his hand affectionately. Absently, the boy stroked the half-wolf's head as he watched Ray drag the stumbling Russell down the alley.

"What's going to happen to him now?" The boy asked the Mountie.

"Do you know him?"

The boy shrugged. "Not really. Father Behan does. I think he gives him odd jobs to do around the church sometimes. I don't think he's quite the full shilling if you know what I mean."

The Mountie smiled slightly. "What makes you say that?"

"What other than him sticking a gun in my chest? Other than that you mean?"

He didn't say it sarcastically or angrily, just curiously.

"Yes other than that." Fraser clarified.

"Well I saw him taking Zyprexa once. It's an anti-psychotic." Noting Fraser's raised eyebrows, he added. "I looked it up."

Lucy was tentatively stroking the wolf alongside the boy and Fraser smiled at her.

"His name is Diefenbaker." He said. "He's taken quite a shine to you."

The little girl flushed with pleasure and buried her face shyly in the boy's side.

"Let me guess." The boy said. "You're Canadian right?"

"Yes actually. Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

The boy smiled a lopsided smile. "Noah Lochlainn and this is Lucy, Lucy Steele."

Fraser nodded at both children in turn.

"Noah, Lucy, it's a pleasure to meet you." He said.

Diefenbaker barked his greeting and Lucy laughed.

"I like your dog." She said around her thumb.

"He's more of a wolf actually." Fraser said.

"Wolves don't bark, they howl." Noah said scratching between Dief's ears wearily.

"Well he's been known to do that too, on occasion." Fraser smiled.

The boy drew a trembling arm across his sweaty forehead and sat down suddenly, his back against the concrete wall.

"Are you all right?" Fraser asked concerned.

Noah nodded, though he looked far from okay. His face was ashen and his shirt collar and sleeves were soaked with perspiration.

"I'm fine. I'm just not used to how hot it gets here that's all. The States seem to have a different definition of summer than I do."

Fraser smiled sympathetically at that. He remembered his first summer in Chicago vividly. For someone who had grown up in a place that regularly remained snow covered well into May, Chicago's heat and humidity had been quite an eye opener.

"In Belfast it hardly ever went up past 70 degrees even in July and once the sun went down you'd still have to break out the sweater. The boy continued. "Here I've practically been melting ever since I stepped off the plane."

Ray reappeared suddenly and Fraser raised his eyebrows.

"That was fast." He said.

"Yeah, there was a black and white just around the corner. They're gonna fix our "friend" up with a nice padded cell back at the station."

He eyed the two children silently for a moment until Fraser made their introductions. The Italian Detective nodded somewhat grimly not liking his chances at getting a coherent statement from two such young children. Still the boy had remarkable poise for such a little guy. In fact Ray kind of admired the way he'd handled the situation. Though obviously frightened, he'd managed to stay calm and remarkably keep the much younger Lucy calm as well.

"So, think you can tell me what happened?" He asked Noah.

The boy nodded slightly, rising somewhat shakily to his feet. He looked as though he was about to pass out Ray noticed.

"Just take your time." The Detective said gently.

The boy blinked sweat from his eyes and looked at Lucy in what seemed like confusion for a moment. The little girl was still petting Diefenbaker, oblivious. The Mountie took a step forward.

"Ray." He said. His tone was one of concern.

Noah's eyes grew suddenly wide as he staggered to a debris-strewn corner of the alley, dropped to his knees and proceeded to vomit up the contents of his stomach. Ray frowned, he'd seen these delayed stress reactions before. Grown men and women who in times of extreme crisis remained calm but completely lost it as soon as the danger had passed. He couldn't really blame a six-year-old for tossing his cookies after having a gun shoved into his chest.

"Stress." He said simply, glancing at Fraser. The Mountie shook his head slightly his face a mask of concern.

"I don't think so Ray." He said.

The boy finally stopped heaving and began to slowly rise to his feet, leaning heavily against the brick wall for support. Fraser quickly crossed the alley and Noah, seeing the Mountie's approach out of the corner of his eye, raised his head sharply.

"Don't." He said, his arms held out defensively and his back to the wall. "Stay away from me. Don't touch me."

The Mountie stopped dead in his tracks, hands palm up.

"It's all right son." He said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy stared at him with glassy unseeing eyes. His eyelids began to flutter and Fraser sprang forward just as Noah's knees began to buckle and he collapsed unconscious into the Mountie's arms.

CHAPTER THREE
The man with the child in his eyes

Lucy let out a high pitched screech as Noah fell, that quickly dissolved into uncontrolled sobbing. Startled, Diefenbaker began barking his concern for both children. The Mountie ignored them, concentrating instead on the limp child in his arms. He looked into the boy's pale slack face and for the second time in the last half-hour, an odd feeling began nagging at him. There was something strangely familiar about the child, though the Mountie was quite sure that he'd never met the boy before today. It wasn't recognition exactly, more like being reminded of someone he'd known once. Perhaps it was as simple as that, Fraser decided. Noah reminded him of someone else, a childhood friend maybe. Even as his mind accepted the explanation, he could not deny the feeling he had in the pit of his stomach that there was more to it than that.

He brushed the loose chocolate colored curls off the boy's forehead gently and noted the damp clamminess of his skin. His pulse was weak and sluggish and when the Mountie carefully peeled back an eyelid to look into one sea-green eye, he noticed that the pupil was hugely dilated, barely reacting to the light. Suddenly a wailing four-year-old was assaulting him.

"Leave him alone!" Lucy yelled in-between sobs. "You're hurting him!"

She was beating her tiny fists on the Mountie's back with all the childish strength she could muster, until Ray intervened, scooping the hysterical child into his arms and shushing her gently. Lucy threw her arms around Ray's neck, weeping bitterly across his shoulder.

"It's okay honey." The Detective soothed softly. "No one's going to hurt your friend, I promise." He looked down at Fraser concerned. "What do we got Benny?" He asked.

"I'm pretty sure it's heat exhaustion." The Mountie said grimly. "We need to get him out of the heat as soon as possible."

"I'll crank up the AC in the Riv." Ray said.

They quickly made their way back down the street to where Ray had parked the Riv. Ray deposited Lucy in the front seat, Diefenbaker climbing in alongside, then turned on the car's engine. After a moment he flipped all the vents open and turned the air conditioning on as high as it would go. Fraser laid Noah out in the back seat and quickly loosened the belt holding up the boy's rather baggy denim shorts and removed his sweat-dampened shirt. Ray was just managing to get the still crying Lucy settled down when he heard the Mountie's sharp intake of breath. He turned and his eyes grew wide as Fraser slowly looked up in horror.

"Oh my God." Ray breathed.

The boy's entire torso was a mass of deep welts and huge purple bruises.

"I'll call an ambulance." Ray said and Fraser could only bring himself to nod mutely in response.

Fraser barely heard the Detective's voice speaking urgently into the police radio as he began to gently probe the boy's body for further injuries starting with his head. He carefully massaged Noah's scalp, searching for any abrasions, lumps or soft spots with the tips of his fingers. Finding none he next examined the black eye attempting to ascertain if there had been any damage to the child's vision. The eyelid was not swollen and there didn't seem to be any damage to the eye itself, but the cut on his bottom lip was infected and looked like it might require stitches. The bruises formed a criss-crossed pattern across the boy's chest and back as if he'd been whipped with something. A belt was Fraser's best guess. There was also a horrible red welt, which had begun to blister, in the center of Noah's chest that could only have been made by applying a hot iron directly to the skin.

Judging by the deep bluish-black shade of the bruises and welts, they had been recently inflicted, but there were other older scars as well. On the left side of the boy's chest, just below the collarbone was the unmistakable pucker of a gunshot wound. The scar was rough and still somewhat red and was probably no more than a few months old. There was also a crescent shaped surgical scar on his right flank above his hip from roughly the same time period. Still older scars were barely visible on his arms and legs that had all but faded to pale smudges with the passage of time.

He looked as if he'd been through a war. Fraser could scarcely believe that the boy had even been able to remain upright let alone function, especially considering the amount of pain he must have been in. With his shirt off he looked smaller somehow, more vulnerable. His tiny frame was painfully thin, the skin stretched taut over his ribs and collarbone and it occurred to the Mountie that he had seen no food in Noah's vomit only bile, which meant that the boy had not eaten in at least two days.

"The little girl seems to be all right." Ray said from the front seat. "No signs of abuse."

The Mountie nodded, unable to tear his eyes from the injured boy. What kind of a monster could do something like this to a defenseless child? His mind rebelled at the very concept so he instead occupied it with doing something useful. He dug in the pocket of his jeans for a moment before producing a small vial.

"What's that?" Ray asked.

"Anti-biotic ointment." The Mountie said and began spreading the contents of the vial over the burn on the boy's chest. "It'll help prevent blistering."

"You always carry that around with you?" Ray asked, with a hint of amusement.

"Yes."

Noah's eyelids slowly pressed together and he groaned softly. At the sound, Lucy twisted in her seat hanging over the headrest to get a better look. She was once again sucking her thumb Fraser noticed; perhaps it was a nervous habit. Noah's eyes snapped open suddenly and at the sight of the Mountie hunched over him, he cried out in alarm and pulled away as quickly as he could. His back jarred into the armrest of the door, which he clung to like a trapped animal, but he seemed not to notice the further insult done to his injuries as he eyed Fraser warily.

"Easy son." The Mountie said, keeping his voice low and calm. "No one's going to hurt you. Detective Vecchio and I are only trying to help."

The boy blinked in confusion a few times his eyes darting back and forth between Fraser and Ray. "Who..." he began.

Fraser pressed a hand to his chest. "Benton Fraser, RCMP." He said by way of a reminder. "And this-"

"Oh aye, the Mountie." Noah cut him off, relaxing slightly. "And Detective Ray Vecchio Chicago PD, and barking more of a wolf actually, Diefenbaker." At the mention of his name, Dief woofed softly and the boy looked at him strangely for a moment before simply shrugging and saying, "Okay, half-wolf then."

Once again, a strange sense of de-ja-vue came over the Mountie as he squinted at the boy trying to jar his memory.

"But... how did I get here?" Noah was saying, he looked down at his bare torso suddenly and blushed crimson with embarrassment. "And where's my shirt?"

"You collapsed from the heat. We brought you to Ray's car to cool off and I removed your shirt to make you more comfortable." The Mountie explained.

"Well, I'm fine now and I would like my shirt back if you don't mind?" He held his hand out for the garment.

"Certainly." Fraser said. "However, with your permission I'd like to finish applying this ointment to that burn on your chest first. It'll help prevent infection and ease the sting a bit."

Noah's eyebrows shot up incredulous. "Ease the sting a bit?" He said a shadow of amusement in his voice. "What are you, a comedian or something?"

Ray couldn't help it, his mouth quirked into a smile at the boy's words. Noah had heard Fraser's unspoken question and had answered it without directly admitting what they all knew already. He was in pain, but more than that he fully understood his own situation. He looked down at his bare chest and the thick ointment that the Mountie had smeared on it wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"What is this stuff anyway?" He asked, taking a small sample on his finger and sniffing experimentally.

"It's an old Inuit remedy, a mixture of powdered elk horn and brown lichen in a base of sea cucumber." Fraser explained.

"Yeah, well it smells perfectly diabolical." Noah said flatly.

"Yes it does." The Mountie agreed.

"Can we go home now?" Lucy piped in suddenly. "I want my Mommy."

"We're leaving now Lucy." Noah said snatching his shirt from the seat where it lay in a damp crumpled ball.

He quickly shrugged into it, ignoring the Mountie's offer of assistance and wincing slightly as he pulled it on. Other than that though, he gave no indication of any discomfort.

"Whoa, whoa kid." Ray spoke up. "You're not going anywhere until we get you checked out at the hospital."

"Thanks anyway, but I'm fine." Noah said. "Come on Lucy."

"You don't have a choice in the matter kid." Ray said seriously, but not unkindly. "You are going to the hospital. The ambulance is on its way."

At the mention of the ambulance Noah's head snapped up as if he'd been slapped.

"Cancel it." He said urgently. "I won't go to the hospital and I'm not setting one foot inside an ambulance ever again."

"Look Kid-" Ray started, raising his voice only to be cut off by the Mountie.

"Ray. Cancel the ambulance."

The Detective looked at the Mountie as if he'd finally lost his mind. "Are you nuts?" he barked.

"We can't force him to do something he doesn't want to do Ray."

"The Hell we can't Fraser. Look he may talk like he's thirty, but he's like what five? Are you seriously trying to tell me that I should defer to the judgement of a five year old on this?"

"Well, when you put it that way of course it sounds bad, but-"

"Please. Please don't make me go." Noah pleaded quietly. He was pale and trembling and obviously terrified. He looked up at Ray with unshed tears in his eyes. "Please." He whispered tightly.

The Detective looked briefly heavenward before dropping his head in defeat. "Oh for crying out loud." He muttered feeling like a complete and utter heel. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He grumbled, snatching the radio mic from its cradle and canceling the ambulance.

"All right kid, you owe me one." The Detective said crossly. "Now start talking. Where are your parents?"

"Ray." Fraser said quietly.

"What?"

"Why don't you stop in the Deli across the street and get Noah a bottle of water, while he and I have a chat."

The irate Italian stared at the Mountie for a moment before sighing in exasperation.

"Fine." He said, climbing out of the car. "Why do these things always happen on my day off?" He muttered as he stalked off across the street.

Noah eyed the Mountie warily. "A chat." He said dryly. "Have you got tea and biscuits in one of those pockets too, or are your supplies strictly limited to powdered elk horn, brown lichen and sandalwood?"

The Mountie was just about to open his mouth to speak when something struck him suddenly and he blinked.

"Actually, the sandalwood would be from my Stetson." He said pointing to its customary perch on the dashboard. "How did you know that?"

Noah shrugged slightly. "I can smell it." He said. Diefenbaker made a sound low in his throat and both the Mountie and the boy looked at him curiously. "Yeah, all I smell on you is chocolate." Noah said wryly to the wolf.

Fraser eyed the exchange, a prickly feeling starting at the back of his neck.

"I want my Mommy." Lucy said again, sounding extremely tired and cranky.

"Soon Lucy, I promise." Noah said. "Look it's not as if we don't appreciate everything you've done, but we really have to be going. Lucy's Mam will be worried."

"What about your mother?" The Mountie asked. "Won't she be worried as well?"

Noah stiffened slightly as a shadow passed across his face. "My Mam's dead." He said with a voice that held little inflection. "She died nine months ago."

"I'm sorry." Fraser said quietly.

Noah just shrugged slightly, a bleak far away look in his eyes. "My Granddad told me once that no one ever really dies as long as we remember them."

"Your Grandfather sounds like a very smart man."

Noah focused on the Mountie's face suddenly, his mouth twisted into a frown. "Oh aye he was a regular armchair philosopher after five or six pints." He said rather bitterly. "But, you can't replace a person with memories no matter how hard you try. It just isn't the same."

"No. No it isn't." Fraser agreed.

The boy looked at him askance for a moment. "You too?" He asked.

The Mountie nodded. "I lost my mother when I was about your age."

"Nawful isn't it." Noah said flatly.

"Pretty much." The Mountie agreed with a wan smile.

The sound of quiet sobbing caught their attention suddenly and both the boy and Fraser turned to discover Lucy crying miserably. Apparently all the talk of deceased mothers had upset the little girl.

"I'm scared." She choked out in between sobs. "Where's my Mommy?"

Noah frowned guiltily. "We didn't mean your Mam Lucy." He said soothingly. "She's waiting for you at home. You'll be with her soon."

"You already said that." The little girl said contritely. "But I want my Mommy now!"

She opened her mouth and began to wail. "Mommy! Mommy! I want my Mommy!"

Noah eyed Fraser, frowning as if to say this was all, his fault. The Mountie winced slightly at the little girl's high-pitched shrieks and tried in vain to comfort her with soothing words for several minutes. Lucy though was having none of it, her screeching sobs rose in intensity until both the Mountie and the boy were forced to cover their ears with their hands for protection. Finally Noah let out an exasperated sigh.

"Lucy!" He yelled over the din. "Lucy, if you calm down I'll do James."

Lucy stopped mid-screech, though tears continued to role sluggishly down her cheeks. "Which part?" She asked in a shaky half sob.

"The part you like." Noah said.

"The part that says what happens at the end?"

"Okay." Noah nodded. "Now close your eyes."

The little girl complied as the boy began to recite as if reading from a book.

     "And thus the journey ended.  But the travelers lived on.  Every one of them became rich and successful in the new country.
     The Centipede was made Vice-President-in-Charge-of-Sales of a high-class firm of boot and shoe manufacturers.
     The Earthworm, with his lovely pink skin, was employed by a company that made women's face creams to speak commercials on television.
     The Silkworm and Miss Spider, after they had both been taught to make nylon thread instead of silk, set up a factory together and made ropes for tightrope walkers.
     The Glow-worm became the light inside the torch on the Statue of Liberty, and thus saved a grateful City from having to pay a huge electricity bill every year.
     The Old-Green-Grasshopper became a member of the New York Symphony Orchestra, where his playing was greatly admired.
     The Ladybug, who had been haunted all her life by the fear that her house was on fire and her children all gone, married the head of the Fire Department and lived happily ever after."

Lucy was no longer sobbing, though dried tears continued to stain her cheeks. She seemed not to care as she sat quietly sucking her thumb and listening to the boy's soft narration in enraptured silence. Fraser recognized the story as the one that both children had mentioned earlier to Russell. He had read it himself, as a boy, but he doubted whether he could have committed every word to memory as Noah apparently had. The Mountie watched with interest as Noah's eyes slowly moved back and forth as if reading from an invisible book held in mid-air before him.

"And as for the enormous peach stone." Noah went on, seemingly oblivious to Fraser's scrutiny. "It was set up permanently in a place of honor in Central Park and became a famous monument."

Just then there was a sharp rap on the window and Ray's head appeared wearing a frown. He signaled the Mountie to join him and Fraser opened the door and stood leaning against the roof of the Riv expectantly. Ray tossed him a bottle of water slippery with condensation and Fraser captured it neatly in one hand. He reached back into the car and handed the bottle to Noah. The boy eyed it for a moment as if unsure what to do with it then with a slight sigh of resignation opened it and began to slowly sip its contents.

"Stay here." The Mountie said. "I'll be right back."

The boy scowled at him, but made no comment. Lucy had calmed down considerably and looked as if she might fall asleep at any moment. She watched the Mountie through drooping eyelids as he joined the Detective outside, closing the car door behind him.

"Are you sure it's a good idea leaving those two alone like that?" Ray asked when he and the Mountie were out of earshot of the Riv.

"Dief will make sure they stay put." The Mountie said easily.

The Detective frowned slightly, but let the matter drop.

"So, what happened?" He asked, changing the subject. "Did you find out where his parents live?"

"Not exactly." Fraser said; rubbing his eyebrow with the back of his thumb somewhat chagrined.

Ray closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. "So, what did you find out?" He asked.

"Nothing much beyond the fact that his Mother apparently died nine months ago. He may have been living with his Grandfather after that, but he only mentioned him in passing and in the past tense so I believe he too may be dead."

"So what? No parents?"

Fraser shook his head slightly.

"Well, it seems fairly obvious that he was sent to Chicago for a reason. My guess would be to join a relative already living here. In fact I believe I may have met him already."

"You have. When?"

"Last night, there were two men arguing on the street beneath my window. One of them had an Irish accent and the other one referred to him as Lochlainn, Noah's last name."

"Any idea where he lives?"

"No I've never seen him before last night, however judging from their conversation I gathered that they were working construction somewhere in the area."

"Well great, that should narrow it down." Ray said sarcastically. "All we have to do now is get Elaine to make us a list of every known construction site in the greater downtown Chicago area and we'll be all set."

"There is an easier way Ray." The Mountie said quietly, cutting through his friend's ire.

"Children adapt quickly to new environments. A boy Noah's age for example could be expected to lose a significant portion of his accent just within a year. Noah though, hasn't had time to acclimate to Chicago's heat and his accent is very thick, which means he hasn't been here very long. My guess would be no more than a few months."

Ray snapped his fingers as inspiration hit. "Kid's gotta have a Green card."

"Exactly."

"So, all we have to do is pay a little visit to our friendly neighborhood INS field office and find out where the kid's Father lives."

The Mountie nodded an oddly troubled look on his face that did not escape the Detective's notice.

"So you've seen this guy Benny, what do you think? You think he's capable of beating up the kid?"

Fraser's eyebrows knit in concern as he considered the question.

"He certainly seemed angry enough." The Mountie said slowly. "And from what I overheard he could have a drinking problem so yes, I suppose I do."

The Detective gave one curt tight-lipped nod of the head. "You know what Fraser? Sometimes I really hate my job." He said darkly, before stalking off back to the car.

The Mountie followed at a discreet distance, allowing his friend a moment to himself. He knew this case must have been dredging up memories of Ray's abusive relationship with his own Father and he didn't want to set the Detective off by saying the wrong thing.

"What the Hell?!" Ray snapped upon reaching the Riv. Fraser hastened to join him.

"They're gone!" He barked in frustration.

Indeed the passenger door was hanging wide open and there was no sign of either child. Only Dief remained, his head resting on his front paws in guilty shame.

"How the Hell did they get past us?" Ray barked incredulously.

"Dief." Fraser said, scolding the wolf. "I'm surprised at you. What were you thinking?"

The Wolf whined slightly and Fraser frowned. "What do you mean you had no choice?"

"Some watch-dog, the kid probably bribed him with a Ding-Dong." Ray muttered sardonically. He thumped the roof of the car impotently.

Fraser shared Ray's frustration and fears that the longer the boy remained alone and unprotected the more likely he was to suffer another beating. They had to find him before it was too late.

"I won't have a child's death on my conscience Fraser." Ray said angrily.

"Calm down Ray." The Mountie soothed. "We'll track him down before it comes to that. In fact, I think I may have a pretty good idea where he's headed."

CHAPTER FOUR
Shelter

Ben rapped softly on the smooth oak door before him with one hand, while hiding a rather sad looking plant behind his back in the other. Unfortunately the cold had taken its toll on the thing, withering the flowers to dried brown husks which clung to the vine like clutching spiders. He probably should have just bought it when he'd gotten into town, but when he'd seen the bluebells in the Whitehorse flower shop he hadn't been able to resist buying them for Saoirse. She'd written him about the new house and all the work she'd been doing on it and Ben figured that a nice plant would be a welcome addition. That is assuming he hadn't managed to kill it. Then again Saoirse had quite a way with plants, if anyone could nurse it back to health she could.

The door opened and the Mountie couldn't help grinning in amusement. Saoirse stood in tee shirt and loose fitting overalls, practically covered in pale green splotches of paint.

"I'm painting." She said very seriously.

"I can see that." Ben answered. "Have you managed to get any on the walls, or are you just painting yourself today?" He teased.

Saoirse grinned crookedly. "Watch it." She said. "I've got a loaded paintbrush here and I'm not afraid to use it." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you hiding back there?" she asked, craning her neck to get a better look behind the Mountie's back.

Ben's smile turned into a slight grimace. "Well, it was supposed to be a housewarming gift."

He pulled out the withered, drooping, plant and Saoirse almost laughed but stopped herself by deliberately clearing her throat.

"Why Ben." She said, trying hard not to smile. "A dead plant, you shouldn't have."

"It's not dead." The Mountie said defensively. "It's just.." Finding no suitable adjective he broke off suddenly and frowned. "Anyway, it's the thought that counts."

"Yes."

She took the sickly looking plant out of Ben's hand and put it down just inside the doorway. She stood in silence for several seconds, watching the Mountie with a sly knowing grin until finally Ben could stand it no longer. He closed the space between them, gathering Saoirse into his arms oblivious of the paint now staining his uniform and embraced her lips in a passionate kiss. Still wrapped in a kiss, the pair moved as one into the house as the Mountie pulled the door firmly closed behind them.

"Oh we really shouldn't have done that." Saoirse said rather mournfully from his side.

Ben had been nodding off contentedly but now he forced his eyes open and regarded the ceiling with a puzzled frown.

"Excuse me?" he said, hoping that she hadn't suddenly decided they'd made a terrible mistake. He didn't know how he could face her if she had, but how could something that felt like that possibly be a mistake? She was right, it had been brilliant.

"Well just look at my walls." She said disgusted.

Ben lifted his head and regarded the half painted walls curiously.

"They're half dry by now and I'll never get the color to match evenly."

"Oh." Ben chuckled in relief dropping his head back onto the pillow.

"Don't laugh." Saoirse cried indignantly. "What am I supposed to do now? Erect a new wall in the middle of the room so no one notices?"

"Well there's always wallpaper." Ben supplied helpfully.

Saoirse smacked him playfully on the arm.

"Oh you're a big help." She cried in mock seriousness, while her eyes danced with amusement.

"My house looks like the inside of a psychedelic bus and you're lying there making jokes."

Ben grinned. "Don't worry, I'll fix it." He said confidently.

Saoirse raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"How?" she asked.

"Just trust me. It'll be fine you'll see."

"I do trust you, you know." Saoirse said softly, snuggling into the crook of Ben's arm.

The Mountie just lay there comfortably with his arm around her, gazing up at the ceiling and allowing his eyes to close of their own accord. For the first time in a long time he felt truly contented, as if all was right with the world and no harm could come to him. He knew the feeling had everything to do with the woman lying next to him, but unlike Victoria there was no underlying fear that went along with it. Strange, but he had always just assumed that, that was what love was. Fear and urgent need, fear of being alone, fear of being together and with Victoria that's what it had been, but with Saoirse it was somehow different. What he'd shared with Victoria had been one frantic moment in time, but what he and Saoirse had was a relationship.

Funny, but he hadn't actually admitted that to himself until just this moment. After that first night they'd spent a lot of time together, mostly just talking, Saoirse was very easy to talk to. He'd found himself telling her things that he would never have dreamed of telling anyone else. Their friendship had eased the pain of Victoria's turbulent memory a little. And even after he left in the spring to resume his post, Saoirse had kept writing to him. Ben had looked forward to the letters, which somehow always seemed to arrive just as the isolation started getting to him. He'd never suffered from loneliness before, but that had changed after Victoria. Saoirse had managed to fill a void in his life, making him feel connected in a way that he never had before. Right now in this house in this bed with her lying beside him, he felt as if he belonged.

"What are you thinking about." Saoirse asked sleepily.

Ben turned his head to find her clear green eyes regarding him and smiled.

"Believe it or not, I was just thinking about my Dad. I was thinking that maybe we should pay him a visit."

Saoirse raised one eyebrow slightly in surprise. "We?" she said. "What brought this on?"

Ben sighed. "I don't know." He said. "It's just that I haven't seen him or my Grandmother since last Christmas. I haven't even talked to them. I just think it's about time I did that's all."

Saoirse propped herself up on one elbow and eyed the Mountie curiously.

"Why?" she finally asked.

Ben blinked, chuckling slightly. "Why?" he asked incredulous.

"Yes." Saoirse said seriously. "You told me that your Dad and Gran do nothing but fight all the time and that they are always trying to make you choose between them."

"Well...yes."

"So, I'm just curious. Why would you want to see them if it makes you so uncomfortable?"

Ben sat up suddenly, staring at her. "Because, they're my family." He said rather more sharply than he'd intended to.

Saoirse slowly sat up, regarding him steadily until the Mountie sighed dropping his gaze to the floor.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "But they're the only family I have left and I can't help feeling that we should be closer somehow."

Once again, Ben's gaze fell on Saoirse.

"Do you know it suddenly struck me the other day that I don't know my Father. I know people say things like that all the time, but in my case it's the truth. Oh I know what everyone else does of course, I know all there is to know about Bob Fraser, Mountie legend, but I know nothing about him as a person. I'm his son Saoirse and yet I don't know any more about him than any other officer who's read his file."

Saoirse's arms wrapped around his shoulders suddenly as she gathered him into a sympathetic embrace.

"Sometimes I think I understand complete strangers better than I do my own family." Ben said softly, returning the embrace.

"Do you love them?" Saoirse asked suddenly.

"Do I what? What kind of a question is that?"

Saoirse pulled away slightly to regard the Mountie's face.

"It's a question just like any other question Ben." She said.

"Of course I love them." Ben said.

"It isn't important to understand the people we love Ben. Now tell me the truth. Why the sudden interest in seeing your family?"

The Mountie eyed her curiously for a moment. "You're not having another one of those flashes of insight are you?" he asked.

Saoirse raised one eyebrow enigmatically and Ben sighed lying back down slowly.

"This will probably sound strange," He began after staring at the ceiling in silence for several moments. "But when I'm on patrol in the territories, it's almost possible to believe that I'm the last human being left alive on the planet."

He glanced at Saoirse almost guiltily, but the look in her eyes encouraged him to go on.

"During the day, I might see a black bear or two and maybe a few dozen caribou to keep me company, but weeks can pass with no human contact at all. And at night, when I lie awake in my bedroll listening to the wolves calling to each other in the distance and I look up into a sky painted with stars sheltering me, it almost feels like if I wasn't there to appreciate it the whole world would just cease to exist. Like it had never existed until just that moment when I happened to be paying attention."

"My, we do have an over-inflated sense of our own importance don't we?"

Saoirse said, slightly amused. A tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth playfully.

Ben chuckled softly returning the smile.

"My point is." He said with mock indignation. "My point is that even though I've always been alone out there I've never felt lonely. I've always felt that I was somehow connected to something much bigger than myself and I've always found comfort in that."

"But, not anymore?" Saoirse asked softly and the Mountie nodded.

"Why what's changed?"

Ben sighed heavily, squinting at the ceiling in thought.

"I met a young Inuit couple up near Coppermine while on patrol. The weather took a turn and they were temporarily separated from the rest of their family. We sheltered together for a few days in the shadow of the mountain pass. Their names were Margaret and David. On the second day, Margaret went into labor and I helped deliver her child."

The Mountie paused staring at the ceiling deep in thought until Saoirse nudged him.

"Go on." She said softly.

"I was holding this brand new life in my hands Saoirse." The Mountie said in wonder. "This perfect little life that hadn't even existed a few months before, who drew his very first breaths in my arms. I handed him to his weeping Mother and suddenly I was acutely aware of all the things missing in my own life. The next day when the storm broke and Margaret and David were reunited with their family, I realized that they really didn't have much of anything besides each other, but somehow that seemed like everything to me.

"So, you're saying you want to have a baby?" Saoirse said a little timidly.

"No, no." Ben said quickly. "Well, I mean yes. I would like to have a family someday, but that's not what I'm talking about. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that ever since Victoria that old connection I was telling you about just isn't enough anymore."

He turned his head and sighed as he tenderly brushed a bit of hair away from Saoirse's face.

"For the first time in my life, I think I'm afraid." Ben said softly. "Afraid of being alone, but more than that afraid of being lonely."

Saoirse smiled, "But you're not alone Ben." She said reassuringly. "And you don't feel lonely now do you?"

"Here with you beside me? No I don't." He said returning her smile.

He cupped her delicate chin in his hand and drew her face toward his for a gentle kiss as Saoirse drew him into her embrace. They held each other for several minutes before Saoirse finally broke the silence.

"So what did the Inuit couple name their son?" she asked.

The Mountie blinked, forcing his mind to suddenly switch gears.

"Umm, Joseph." He said.

"Joseph." Saoirse repeated thoughtfully. "I like that. It's Biblical, I like Biblical names."

"Do you?" Ben said mildly.

Saoirse nodded, grinning.

"Which reminds me." She leaned over the bed and opened the drawer to the nightstand, withdrawing a small festively wrapped box.

"I got you something. Call it an early birthday present."

Ben sat up and accepted the gift a little hesitantly. His birthday wasn't for another two weeks, but the truth was he always felt a little awkward when receiving presents. Maybe it was because he'd gotten so few while growing up.

"You see how it works is, you actually have to open the box to get to the gift inside." Saoirse said dryly.

Grinning sheepishly the Mountie carefully unwrapped, the box. He lifted the lid to find an embossed gold medallion sitting on a bed of soft cotton.

"Do you like it?" Saoirse asked a bit anxiously. "It's a medal to Saint Michael. The patron saint of police officers." She said in answer to the Mountie's unspoken question.

Ben fingered the cool metal thoughtfully for a moment. The words 'Saint Michael protect us' were engraved on it, framing a gently smiling bearded face.

"It's beautiful." He said finally.

"Look on the back." Saoirse said with a shy smile.

The Mountie raised an eyebrow quizzically before turning the medallion over and reading the message engraved there.

"The blessing of my love be ever with you." He read out loud. "Over sea, over shore, over stone." He paused for a moment. "That's..lovely Saoirse. Thank you."

"You do know it's just a gift right Ben? I wanted you to have something to let you know that I think about you when you're not here that's all. I'm not trying to force my religion on you or anything."

"I know that." Ben said, shaking his head as if to say that, that thought had never even occurred to him.

He fastened the clasp around his neck and let the medal fall across his bare chest.

"Well, what do you think?" He asked with a grin.

"Very becoming." Saoirse said returning the Mountie's smile.

She noticed Ben staring at her intently.

"What is it?" She asked when she could take his gaze no longer.

"It's nothing." Ben said slowly. "I guess I'm just not used to having someone worrying about me that's all."

Saoirse eyed him from beneath thick eyelashes almost suggestively.

"Oh I think there are probably more people who care about you than you know Ben." She said, tracing a finger up and down his naked torso playfully.

The Mountie shivered slightly at the thrill of her touch.

"Maybe." He said, taking her in his arms. "But, you're the only one who feels like home to me."

He drew her face gently in for a kiss and just before their lips met, Saoirse laughed that endearing musical laugh of hers, and suddenly the Mountie knew he was exactly where he belonged.

"You really think you'll find the kid here Benny?"

Fraser looked at his anxious friend and shrugged slightly.

"I think it's as a good as place as any to start looking Ray."

The Mountie stepped out of the car and looked up at the elegant church before him as thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Sounds like another storm's brewing." Ray said distractedly. "Good, maybe it'll finally break through this humidity," but it was clear from his tone, that the Detective didn't really think so.

They'd had thunder storms practically every afternoon for a week now and all that ever seemed to happen was the air would steam up even more as a result.

Fraser sighed as he looked toward the horizon and the clouds gathering there. He was not looking forward to another sleepless night in his stuffy apartment. Maybe it was time to break down and take Ray up on his kind offer. It was a thought that he quickly put out of his mind however, as unbidden the image of Noah's ravaged torso popped into his head and Fraser suddenly found himself wondering where the boy was spending his nights.

"I'll let you know how I make out with INS." Ray said, snapping the Mountie back to the present.

The two had decided that the Detective would try to gather as much information about Noah's whereabouts from the immigration service as he could, while the Mountie did the same by paying a visit to Father Behan. The plan was to meet back at Ray's later to exchange notes and possible courses of action. Not that a course of action was needed as far as Ray was concerned, he was all for tracking down the boy's father and immediately throwing him in jail, but the Mountie preferred to know all the facts before passing judgement. Fraser nodded absently to his friend before making his way toward the church entrance.

Ray watched the Mountie leave with a deep frown glued to his face. Fraser had been acting stranger than usual ever since the boy's disappearance, as if he were preoccupied with something. But it seemed like more than just natural worry over Noah's welfare. When he'd first seen the boy back in the alley, the Detective could've sworn that he'd seen something very much like recognition in the Mountie's eyes, but he must've been mistaken. Still his instincts were telling him that there was something more on his friend's mind, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. With a frustrated expulsion of breath, Ray popped the Riv into gear and sped from the parking lot. He shot one last glance at the Mountie's retreating form as he left.

Fraser stepped into the vestibule of the church just as the first drops of rain began to fall outside. Diefenbaker retreated to a shadowed corner and with a slight grumble, lay down nose to tail. Fraser frowned, perhaps he'd been too hard on the wolf after Noah and Lucy had slipped by him. After all, this relentless heat must be especially hard on the arctic animal and if Dief's senses weren't up to their usual sharp standards, well that was only to be expected. With a sigh, the Mountie crouched by his lupine companion.

"Diefenbaker." He said matter-of-factly. "I apologize if I was harsh with you earlier, but there's no use in sulking about it."

The wolf lifted his head and stared at the Mountie accusingly. Fraser frowned, rising to his feet as Dief's head once again dropped to his paws with a grunt.

"Fine then, but I hope you realize you're being extremely childish."

The half-wolf rose to his feet, rotated in a circle and lay down again with his back to the Mountie. Fraser rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Typical." He muttered under his breath as he stepped through the ornate wooden doors and into the church Cathedral.

Choir practice was in session and the Mountie quietly took a seat in one of the pews and listened to the mingling voices rising around him. He stared at the crucifix above the altar for some time lost in thought. He wasn't Catholic, wasn't even particularly religious, but he did believe in a higher power. Until recently in fact, he'd truly believed that everything in life happened for a reason, but now he found himself questioning that notion. He flashed once again on Noah's battered body and shuddered. Try as he might he could find no good reason for anyone to abuse a child. A child was a gift to be cherished and Fraser had a hard time believing that not everyone felt the same way. Oh he was not so nave as to think that such things didn't exist, it was just that he'd never experienced it first hand before and it had shaken him. Shaken him to the very core.

"Benton?"

Fraser looked up suddenly to find Father Behan standing over him. He'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't heard the priest's approach.

"Ah, Father Behan." The Mountie said, standing quickly. "I was hoping I could speak with you."

"Yes I know." The priest said with a slight smile.

Fraser stopped abruptly. "You were expecting me?"

"Yes, Noah told me you'd be paying us a visit sooner or later."

The Mountie blinked. "He's here then?" He asked, not quite able to keep the anxiety from his voice.

Father Behan stared intently at him for a moment.

"Yes, he's here and he's safe. But before we get into that there are some things we should discuss first. Won't you accompany me to my office Benton?"

The voices of the choir faded behind them, as the Mountie followed the Priest into his office.

"Sit down Benton." Father Behan began. "I want to tell you a story. It's an Irish story, so unfortunately it remains to be seen whether or not it has a happy ending."

CHAPTER FIVE
Northern lad

Fraser slowly ascended the stairs to the second floor of the church, where the small public anteroom, affectionately known as Mike's House was located. Outside a full-blown thunderstorm raged, as the stairwell lights above Fraser's head flickered more than once in response to the electrically charged air. The Mountie came to a sudden halt at the top of the stairs, unsure of how best to proceed in light of what Father Behan had just told him. Although the Priest had agreed to defer to Fraser's judgement on the matter, for perhaps the first time in his life, the Mountie could see no clear solution to the problem.

Just as Fraser had surmised, Noah was indeed a new arrival to the city of Chicago. He had joined his Father only a few short months ago after a nightmarish year that had begun with the sudden death of his Mother and had ended in his being shot. At first, the move had seemed like a blessing for the child, a chance to escape the war zone in which he'd been living. Soon however, it had become apparent that one kind of Hell had been traded for another. Noah's Father had a temper and lately he'd turned to drink, a dangerous combination for a defenseless child. Father Behan had tried several times to intervene on the boy's behalf, but Children's Services was being less than cooperative. The Priest had been told in no uncertain terms that if he wished to file a report the entire matter would be turned over to the British authorities and both father and son would most likely be deported.

"That cannot happen Benton." The Priest had told the Mountie emphatically.

"Noah is working-class Irish Catholic in a system that believes him to be a nuisance at best and a dissident at worst. If he's sent back to Belfast he'll be swallowed up and never be heard from again."

Fraser had understood the Priest's position, but he could not in good conscience just leave the boy where he was either.

A soft moan of pain mingled with the sounds of thunder and Fraser's head snapped up, concerned. He quickly stepped onto the staircase landing and began making his way down the corridor. The door to Mike's House stood slightly ajar and the Mountie pushed it open silently.

The room was dark, save for the momentary flashes of brilliance illuminating the stained-glass windows from the lightning storm raging outside. Fraser squinted into the gloom as another moan echoed through the sparsely decorated room. His eyes fell on the rather shabby leather couch and Noah's slumbering form curled upon it. Obviously caught in the throes of some nightmare, the boy moaned and writhed in his sleep as instinctively the Mountie closed the space between them to offer what comfort he could.

"Mam?" The boy mumbled plaintively in his sleep and the Mountie froze, his hand inches from Noah's little shoulder.

"Mamae? Ca' raibh tu'? Na' corraigh. Na' fag' mo dhiaidh."

A wave of thunder cracked through the air and the boy shuddered in his sleep, but did not wake. He was pale and drenched in sweat the Mountie noticed, though the air conditioning vent was blowing cool air directly overhead. Hesitantly, Fraser placed a hand lightly on the boy's shoulder, nudging him ever so slightly.

"Noah." He murmured, in what he hoped was a soothing tone.

The boy's eyes snapped open and he shrank away from the Mountie as if he'd been slapped.

"Don't!" He cried out in confusion. "Don't touch me!"

Immediately Fraser backed off, hands held in the air before him where the boy could clearly see them. Noah had moved down to the farthest end of the couch where he sat panting and clutching the armrest in a panic.

"It's all right son." Fraser said quietly. "It's me, Fraser."

He leaned across his side of the couch and flicked on the end table lamp so that the boy could see that he meant no harm.

With an obvious effort, Noah managed to calm his breathing. He blinked several times, eyeing the Mountie cautiously before finally releasing his death grip on the furniture.

"A...are you going to arrest me?" He asked hesitantly.

Fraser smiled reassuringly and Noah visibly relaxed.

"Of course not. Why on earth would I do that?" The Mountie asked mildly.

"Well..for running away I guess." The boy said wearily.

"Why did you run away?"

Noah seemed almost startled by the question, he licked his bottom lip nervously and dropped his gaze before replying.

"I had to get Lucy home before her Mam started worrying."

"Noah look at me please." Fraser said matter-of-factly. The boy looked up to gaze askance at the Mountie.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible liar?" Fraser asked, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

The boy's face blushed crimson and he quickly ducked his head embarrassed. He closed his eyes and nodded slightly.

"As a matter of fact, my Mam used to say that all the time."

He lifted his head to face the Canadian.

"She used to say that integrity was just in my blood so I might as well get used to it and stop trying to fight it. She said it would be like a fish trying to fight the urge to swim."

Fraser smiled slightly but continued to gaze at the child expectantly. Finally Noah sighed, resigned.

"I didn't want my Dad to find out what happened that's all. He's got enough on his mind without having to worry about me on top of it."

It had the ring of truth to it, but Fraser could tell the boy was still holding a lot back.

"Well I'm sure your Dad appreciates you trying to make things easier for him." The Mountie said mildly.

Noah drew his knees up under his chin protectively and shrugged.

"You know, my own Father wasn't around much while I was growing up." Fraser said, switching tactics.

"Oh?" The boy asked, feigning curiosity. "Why is that?"

"He was a Mountie like me. Most of the time he was out on patrol. We lived in a very isolated part of Canada. Sometimes months would pass before I would see him again."

"Where did you live?" Noah asked, interested despite himself.

"A small village called Tuktoyaktuk. That's in the Northwest Territories."

"I know where it is." Noah said flatly.

"Tuktoyaktuk, sits between the northern tip of the Inuvik region and the southern shore of the Beaufort Sea." The boy said staring off into space.

"That's...yes it does." Fraser said in surprise. "How did you know that?"

The boy shrugged nonchalantly. "My Mam showed me a map once. So if your Dad was never around, who'd yeh live with?"

"Well after my mother died, I was sent to live with my grandparents." The Mountie said, eyeing the boy curiously. That strange feeling of familiarity was back again and he still didn't quite know what to make of it.

Noah looked up sharply at the mention of Fraser's grandparents.

"Did you like living with them?" He asked.

For some reason, the Mountie hesitated before answering. It had something to do with the way the boy was looking at him. Those piercing green eyes seemed to be looking right through him, uncovering his secrets.

"I.." He stammered. "I was well cared for."

Noah frowned suddenly. "That sounds like a ringing endorsement." He said sourly.

"You have to understand." Fraser said quickly, inexplicably feeling the need to explain himself. "My grandparents cared a great deal about me, they just weren't overly demonstrative people. They were rather...reserved."

The boy continued to eye him for several moments, then dropped his gaze shrugging slightly.

"Sounds a bit lonely to me." He said softly.

"At times." The Mountie murmured in agreement.

"My Mam and I lived with my granddad in Belfast." Noah began softly, a far away look in his eye.

"He was a fiddler." A wistful smile came to the boy's lips as he spoke. "I could sit and listen to him play for hours."

A shadow passed across Noah's face as he leaned his forehead wearily against his knees.

"After my Mam died though, he just went all to pieces. He started spending more time down at the local drinking, then he did at home. Finally the landlady got hold of him and tossed us for falling behind in the rent. My friend Jude's Mam took me in for awhile, but granddad refused to stay there."

The boy stopped talking, a bleak pained look on his face though his voice had remained toneless.

"What happened to him?" Fraser asked after several moments passed.

Noah shrugged slightly, hugging himself a little tighter.

"He was killed in a pub brawl while I was in hospital." He said flatly. "I wondered why he never came to visit. They wouldn't tell me he was gone until after I got out."

"I'm sorry." Fraser said softly.

Noah looked at him, smiling a wan crooked smile and shrugged.

"He was drinking himself to death anyway. He never really wanted to go on living after my Mam died. I guess he just missed her too much."

"He still had you." The Mountie pointed out.

"Yeah." The boy whispered bleakly then quickly looked away.

After a few moments he seemed to mentally shake himself and once again turned to face the Mountie.

"You know it's odd, I would've thought you'd know all this. I figured that Father Behan would've told you my whole sad sob story by now." The boy said with a touch of irony.

Fraser's mouth quirked into a smile.

"No, not the whole sob story." He said softly. "Just the hi-lights."

The boy flashed him a wry grin.

"I'm five-and-a-half, hi-lights are all I've had."

Fraser sighed and looked out the window. The rain had ceased and the thunder was no more than a distant rumble beneath the horizon.

"Looks like the storm has just about passed." He said, mostly to himself.

"Are you going to turn my dad in?" The boy asked suddenly, drawing Fraser's attention back to the moment.

The Mountie blew out a slow breath, considering the question carefully.

"I think I have to Noah." He said finally. "I can't let him go on hurting and neglecting you like this."

"I can take care of myself." The boy protested hotly.

"No." The Mountie said simply, ending the argument. "You can't. I know you think you can, but the simple truth is you're a child. A very intelligent child granted, but a child nonetheless. You're too young to look after yourself properly."

The boy blinked tears from his eyes and looked away embarrassed.

"Noah." Fraser began, softening his tone. "Your father needs help."

"If you turn him in, they'll send us back to Belfast." The boy murmured miserably.

"Let me worry about that." Fraser said with more confidence than he felt.

"What can you do?"

"I have friends in the Chicago Police Department who may be able to help."

The boy raised one skeptical eyebrow.

Fraser sighed, unconsciously rubbing his brow with the back of his thumb to ease the tension he felt.

"Noah." He said softly, but emphatically. "I promise that I will do everything in my power to help you. I give you my word on it."

"And Mounties always keep their word I suppose." The boy said tonelessly.

"Well, I can't speak for all of them, but I always try to yes."

Once again the boy turned piercing green eyes on the Mountie. He stared, frowning slightly for several seconds before finally nodding.

"Okay." He murmured, dropping his gaze again.

"Okay." Fraser echoed in relief.

Noah shrugged. "So what now?" He asked.

Fraser studied the battered and clearly exhausted child before him for a moment and decided that right now what the boy needed most was a hot meal and a decent night's rest. Noah's father would keep until the morning.

"How do you feel about Italian food?" The Mountie asked, smiling.

CHAPTER SIX
Lost woman song

Ben awoke to the soft sounds of music playing and the hearty smell of bacon frying. He smiled and stretched across the cool linen sheets, sighing contentedly then lightly tossing them aside, he rose. The morning air was chilly across his naked torso, so he plucked his blue flannel robe from the back of the chair and quickly shrugged into it. He walked the muffled hallway in barefooted silence, following the strains of the ethereal melody that had awakened him.

Saoirse sat at the living room piano playing softly as the Mountie crept into the doorway catching her unawares. He watched her for a few minutes, lightly caressing the keys and humming softly to herself.

She had a voice like an angel and Ben could sit in the living room and listen to her play for hours. His favorites were the old Irish ballads, sung in Gaelic, and infused with such a yearning, melancholy they never ceased to strike a chord deep within him. As if each note were somehow part of a larger history that played out in his head like a living narrative.

Saoirse came from a family of musicians. Her father was a violinist of some note back in Belfast and her mother had just started a promising recording career when she'd died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. Saoirse had been eight-years-old at the time. It was her mother who had taught her to play the piano. Sometimes Ben would watch Saoirse play, a small sad smile on her face, and just know that she was thinking about their time together. It made him feel closer to her somehow. Knowing that they were both missing that indefinable something that only those who had lost a parent early on could understand.

She looked up suddenly and smiled staring directly at him. Ben returned the smile and entered the room taking a seat on the bench next to her.

"How is it that you always seem to know where I am before I even arrive?" The Mountie asked lightly.

Saoirse shrugged, running a finger across the piano keys playfully. "You're just an especially loud thinker that's all."

Ben stiffened as Saoirse began chuckling to herself softly.

"Oh Ben," She said. "I was only joking."

The Mountie eyed her skeptically for a moment. "Sometimes I'm not so sure." He said with a touch of wariness, but it was clear from his tone that he too was only kidding.

That Saoirse did indeed possess a gift Ben had no doubt. Sometimes she would look at him in such a penetrating way, he felt certain that she could see directly into his soul. Instead of feeling utterly exposed and self conscious at those moments however, he seemed to be filled with the oddest sense of inner peace instead. As if Saoirse could not only see the real Ben Fraser, but genuinely understand him as well. She did seem to know him in a way that no one ever had before and not just because of her unique gifts.

After Saoirse's mother had died she'd been raised by her father; a man she spoke of with great affection, but who nevertheless seemed to frighten her a little as well. From their talks, Ben gathered that Sean McGowan was a strict, rather stoic man who perhaps had trouble showing affection for his daughter while she'd been growing up. Ben could relate.

That his grandparents had loved him he had no doubt, but it was a distant reserved love that had often left him feeling more alone than if he'd been the only person in the house. There were no such things as unguarded displays of affection in his house. Ben had been brought up in a world of polite handshakes and noncommittal pats on the back. He'd learned early on to hide his emotions, as his grandmother found any unnecessary displays extremely vulgar.

He'd always just accepted her way of thinking, but now he found himself wondering how different he might have been had she been a little warmer. It was an insight that startled him, simply because he'd never dared think it before. He found himself imagining what it must have been like for his father to grow up in that house and suddenly saw him in a whole new light as well.

Saoirse had been staring at him intently when her eyes grew suddenly wide and she leaped to her feet. "Breakfast!" She gasped, racing from the room.

Ben smiled to himself, shaking his head slightly as his fingers idly brushed the piano keys. She did that all the time, started cooking something, forgot about it, and then miraculously caught it just before it started to burn. The first few times had made him extremely nervous, he'd had visions of returning from patrol and finding the entire house burned to the ground and Saoirse waiting for him on the charred front stoop wearing a tiny sheepish grin. After a while though, he'd just come to accept it as one of those things that one accepts out of love. One of the many things that Ben had come to cherish, since they'd been together.

They'd been together for a little over two years now, and in that time the Mountie had let go of many things that had been burdening him. He'd told Saoirse all about Victoria and she in turn told him about Brendan.

She'd known him since primary school. Like so many adolescent crushes it had started innocently enough, shyly holding hands and sitting together at lunch. Brendan carrying Saoirse's books when he walked her home from classes. As the years passed their feelings for each other grew until finally they'd become engaged. And that's when everything had changed.

"It was as if he'd become this whole other person." Saoirse had said at the time. "After a while I just didn't recognize him anymore."

Seemingly overnight, Brendan went from the considerate passionate boy that Saoirse had fallen in love with to the surly violent tempered bully that she wound up ultimately fleeing.

Ben never asked if Brendan had physically harmed Saoirse and she never told him, but he did know that over 6000 square kilometers now separated them, in much the same way that a ten year prison sentence separated him from Victoria.

Saoirse returned with two heaping plates of bacon and eggs, resuming her former seat. The Mountie took the offered plate with a mumbled 'thank you kindly' and dug in. For someone who cooked so offhandedly, Saoirse was remarkably good at it.

She smiled as she watched Ben eat, nibbling daintily at her own food as she did.

"How is it?" She asked finally.

"I think it's too good." The Mountie said in between mouthfuls. "Much more of this and I won't be able to get into my uniform come spring."

"Aah, anything you put on you'll take off once you start trudging around in the wilderness again." Saoirse said confidently.

"Speaking of which." Ben said, laying his plate on the piano for the time being. "I've been thinking."

Saoirse raised one eyebrow, staring intently at the Mountie.

"Uh oh." She said dryly. "Never a good sign."

Ben tried hard not to smile. "Stop." He said gently yet firmly. "I need to talk seriously with you about something."

Saoirse's smile suddenly faded. She looked down at her own plate and made a face, as if she had suddenly lost her appetite.

"Now is not the time for this conversation Ben." She said softly without raising her head.

The Mountie blinked in confusion. "Which conversation?"

Saoirse turned her penetrating green eyes on him and sighed.

"I already know about the opening in Fort Nelson Ben." She said quietly.

Ben blinked, confused. "How did you-"

Saoirse reached into the pocket of her robe and produced a small folded piece of paper, which she wordlessly handed to the Mountie.

"He called yesterday while you were out back chopping wood." She said finally. "He told me that he hoped it would make me happy knowing you weren't so far away and that you'd be able to make it home every weekend."

Ben eyed the note from Buck Frobisher in silence. He looked up to find Saoirse's stormy green eyes fixed upon him. That she'd known what he'd been about to say did not disturb him nearly so much as the look of dread he now saw in those eyes.

"Saoirse." He began softly.

"Have I ever made any demands on you about your job Ben?" Saoirse asked, a sharp edge creeping into her voice.

The Mountie dropped his gaze guiltily. "No." He said softly.

"Have I ever asked you to give up the post that you obviously love for one closer to me?"

Once again Ben was forced to answer "No."

The Mountie felt Saoirse's electrically charged touch suddenly, as she took both of his hands in hers. The ghost of a smile brushed her lips and the sharpness was gone from her voice by the time she spoke again.

"Don't get me wrong Ben." She said softly. "I live for you homecomings, but I could never ask you to give up the territories for me. Wilderness is in your blood. It's in your soul and if you gave up that part of your life it would only be a matter of time before you wound up hating me for it."

The Mountie looked up sharply at that. "I could never hate you Saoirse." He said firmly. "And as far as the territories are concerned, yes I love it up there. I love nearly everything about it, but I love you more." He caressed her delicate chin in his hand and smiled gently. "And if my only choices were to stay in a place I loved and be without you or stay in a place I hated and be with you, then I'd choose you in a heartbeat. I wouldn't even stop to think about it."

He kissed her gently then and as he pulled back he tenderly wiped away the tears that had begun to flow from her eyes with his thumb and said. "But I think you and I both know what's really bothering you here...don't we."

Saoirse's face fell as she suddenly dropped her gaze.

"If you're not ready for this." The Mountie said, wearing a wan smile. "All you have to do is tell me. I won't take it personally."

Saoirse didn't answer right away, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and Ben almost smiled, thinking how like a little girl she looked.

"The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you Ben." She said finally. "And I do love you." She paused for a moment looking at him intently. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life." She said emphatically.

"But?" Ben prompted when she didn't go on.

"But, I'm just not ready for this."

Ben sighed smiling sadly. "I understand." He said, though he was not quite able to disguise the disappointment in his voice. "I'm willing to wait then."

Saoirse raised her hand and tenderly brushed the Mountie's cheek.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" She asked softly.

She kissed him then, leaning into his chest as Ben wrapped her protectively in his arms.

"Just help me Ben." She said plaintively. "Help me to believe in happy endings. I'm afraid I just don't. I am Irish after all." She continued a touch of irony in her voice.

Ben kissed the top of her head tenderly, chuckling softly to himself.

"What's that got to do with anything?" He asked.

Saoirse sighed. "There's no such thing as happily ever after in Irish Fairy Tales. Even when the hero gets the girl, in the end things always turn tragic" She said sadly. "Take poor Deirdre for example"

"Who?"

"Deirdre of the sorrows. She was promised in marriage to King Conchobor of the Red Branch at the hour of her birth, but she fell in love with his nephew Naoise instead. Her one true love. They fled to Scotland and lived in exile for seven years but Naoise missed his home so much that they eventually returned to Ireland. Conchobor sent his army to fetch Deirdre and to her horror Naoise was murdered right before her eyes, impaled on a shaft that broke his back. She was so distraught that she committed suicide by throwing herself under the wheels of the King's carriage."

Ben raised an eyebrow in amusement, cupping Saoirse's delicate chin in his hand and gently raising her head until their eyes met.

"You know my grandmother used to read Little Red Riding Hood to me when I was a boy, and yet to the best of my knowledge I never have actually run across a talking wolf." He said whimsically.

Saoirse's mouth quirked into a lopsided smile.

"There are happy endings in real life Saoirse." He said gently. "No matter what Deirdre and Nee-sha may have to say about it. You just have to look a little harder for them that's all."

"I'll get it!" Ray Vecchio cried from the top of the stairs, as the front doorbell rang, quickly descending the steps lest one of his sisters should beat him to the door.

"Is that Benton?" His mother's voice called from the kitchen.

"Probably." Ray called back. "Don't worry Ma, I got it."

At least he thought it was the Mountie, but if Frannie got to the door before he did they'd never get rid of her. Of course on any other day if Fraser's visit were purely social, Ray might actually enjoy watching him squirm, but tonight there was no time for amusement, tonight they had business to discuss.

With an ease borne of long practice, Ray lightly sidestepped a toy truck lying in wait on the bottom step and stopped in mid-stride to grumble to himself darkly.

"Joey!" He yelled over his shoulder, to the nephew who was the most likely culprit. "Get your toy off the stairs before somebody winds up killing themselves! What are you trying to do, thin the herd or something?!"

There was an answering whine from above as a child's voice echoed down the hall.

"Aww, but I just got to level 10 in Motocross!"

"Joseph Nicholas Savelli!" A woman's shrill voice cried from the kitchen. "I'll show you a level, if you don't get down here and do what your Uncle says right this minute!"

Ray inwardly winced at his sister Maria's sharp tongue. Sometimes she sounded exactly like Ma, making him feel as if he were seven years old again and had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

A herd of wild elephants, that actually turned out to be one small eight year old boy descending the stairs as loudly as he possibly could, ran past Ray.

With a mumbled "Sorry Uncle Ray," he scooped up the truck, turned and was once again chugging up the stairs just as fast as he'd come down. Ray watched him disappear with a brief shake of the head.

"Whatever happened to the good old days when kids actually played outside?" He muttered to himself in disgust.

He once again resumed his progress toward the front door only to be cut off by his mother half way there.

"Ma!" He cried. "I said I'd get it."

His mother shrugged theatrically. "So get it already." She said sharply

Her hand gestured meaningfully in the air as she lectured her son.

"Poor Benton is probably standing out there melting in this heat, but you're too busy yelling at your nephew to notice." She said accusingly.

Ray closed his eyes against the onslaught of maternal guilt and sighed. Mrs. Vecchio was nothing if not hospitable and leaving the Mountie standing on the front porch for so long was a personal affront to the natural born hostess inside her.

With a look of resignation, Ray nodded patiently to his mother.

"Yes Ma, you're right I'm sorry." He said, while mentally chiding the Mountie for knocking at all even after he'd been told a dozen times to just walk in already.

The Vecchio's had stopped thinking of Fraser as a guest a long time ago. He was now considered one of the family, and yet he seemed to be the only one who couldn't see that.

Mrs. Vecchio's face cracked into a smile as she grabbed her son's chin in her hand and pinched his cheeks until his mouth formed an involuntary pucker.

"Caro Mio, Raymondo." She said sweetly. "First give me a kiss." She said pointing to her cheek with her free hand. "Then open the door eh?"

Taking advantage of her brother's preoccupation, Francesca sidled up to the front door and opened it before anyone could protest. Fraser had been looking down, but as the door opened he raised his head and their eyes met.

"Hey Frase." Frannie said, leaning against the doorjamb suggestively.

The Mountie inclined his head slightly. "Francesca." He said politely.

"Frannie! Would you get out of here!" Ray barked. "Fraser and I have business to discuss."

"Ooh a case?" Frannie squealed in delight. "What's it about Frase?" She asked the Mountie earnestly. "Can I help?"

"No you cannot help!" The Detective spat.

"Was I talking to you?!" Frannie answered back in kind.

"Raymondo! My kiss." Mrs. Vecchio demanded.

Francesca resumed, smiling sweetly for the Mountie. "You know, Frase" she purred "if you ever need someone to say, pose as your girlfriend on a case, you can always count on me."

"I see." Fraser said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Well I will certainly keep that in mind Francesca if the need ever arises."

"Oh yeah right." Ray muttered. "Like that would ever happen."

Frannie ignored her brother's comment.

"Well after all," she said matter-of-factly "it would be like my civic duty or something right?"

Ray quickly planted a kiss on his mother's cheek then turned to his sister.

"Not even if you were the last living woman on the planet Frannie." He said darkly.

Mrs. Vecchio scowled. "Raymondo! Francesca!" she barked crisply, but it was already too late.

Ray and Frannie were now shrieking at each other in Italian, hands gesturing wildly. Mrs. Vecchio stepped between them to try and stop it, but soon she too was yelling adding her own shrill voice to her children's.

The Mountie merely watched in silence, determined not to interfere until a tiny whimper and tug on his shirt from behind changed his mind.

Suddenly annoyed at his best friend's childish behavior, Fraser looked up and did something he'd never done before, he yelled.

"Excuse me!" The Mountie barked, cutting through the din.

All three Vecchio's stopped mid-yell, to stare open mouthed at the Mountie.

"Forgive me for interrupting." Fraser said, once again his normally calm self.

He looked directly at Ray, so that the Detective could clearly see the displeasure in his eyes then, stepping aside slightly, he briefly gestured behind him. At first nothing happened, then all three heads moved as one as a small pale and clearly terrified, face peeked out from behind the Mountie's back

"Ray." Fraser said slowly. "You remember Noah."

CHAPTER SEVEN
Family snapshot

Fraser watched with growing concern, as Noah lethargically pushed the food around his plate in silence. The boy had barely said two words since they'd finally managed to coax him into the house, and though Fraser had only known him for a short time, it just didn't seem like Noah to be so quiet. The boy looked tired. He looked tired and his little face seemed strained, as if he were in pain but determined to hide it.

Fraser's eyes met Ray's across the table and the Detective frowned, worry clearly etched on his face as well. For once no one spoke, afraid that breaking the spell of silence would spook the child again. No one mentioned the bruises covering Noah's face or the split lip, but it was painfully obvious from the way he shrank away from everyone save the Mountie, what had happened to him. In fact he had been fairly clinging to Fraser since the moment they'd stepped through the door.

"Noah Dear." Mrs. Vecchio ventured. "You don't like the lasagna? Would you like me to fix you something else?"

Noah looked up, startled by the sudden break in silence. The robust Italian woman continued to stare at him earnestly until his eyes flickered to his plate guiltily. Ray almost smiled. He had to hand it to his mother; she really knew how to twist the knife.

"No Mrs. Thank you." Noah said contritely. "The lasagna's grand, really. I'm afraid I'm just not very hungry right now, that's all."

His eyes fell on the little girl sitting directly across the table from him; Fraser had introduced her as Gina one of Ray Vecchio's nieces. She was five years old, had silky black hair cut into a short page boy style and her big brown eyes had not left Noah since he'd sat down. He flashed her a brief smile and she returned it, resting her head on her elbow seemingly deep in thought.

Mrs. Vecchio was clearly upset by Noah's lack of appetite, the boy was nothing but skin and bones and the mother in her rebelled at the sight of him. Noah almost sighed at the woman's obvious distress, but he caught himself at the last moment and simply looked down at his plate instead. What could he say, other than he was feeling incredibly sick to his stomach at the moment and didn't think he could choke down one more wretched bite of lasagna.

But, he knew that telling the truth would only cause more trouble than it was worth. The looks of pity he was already getting from Mrs. Vecchio and Ray's sisters, were almost too much to bear as it was. Plus, he was afraid that Fraser or Ray would start mentioning hospitals once more and there was no way he was ever setting foot inside one of those again.

Deciding there was nothing for it, the boy stared at the pasta on his plate and mustered his resolve. Swallowing hard, he cut a good-sized piece of lasagna with his fork and shoved it into his mouth before he had time to think better of it.

"Mmmm..." He said, through what he hoped looked like a genuine smile. "Delicious."

Mrs. Vecchio seemed to relax a little bit and Noah was glad, even though he was fairly certain he would regret his actions later.

"You talk funny." Gina piped up suddenly.

"Gina Marie!" Her mother rebuffed, from the far end of the table.

"Well he does!" Gina said defensively.

"He talks funnier than Uncle Fraser even."

The Mountie's eyebrows shot up in surprise as a sudden grin appeared on Ray's face.

"Well maybe it's because, they're the only two people in this house who know how to say please and thank you." Francesca said sharply, leaping to the Mountie's defense.

"Francesca is right." Mrs. Vecchio agreed. "You children could learn a lesson from Benton and Noah's good manners." She said in her best lecturing tone.

She turned to smile at Benton and the little boy seated next to him and was startled by what she saw. Noah's cheeks were flushed bright red as he slumped in his chair, looking as if he wanted to hide under the table, while Fraser sat stiff as a board, his face flushed almost as red as the uniform he usually wore. Too much female attention of any kind, usually evoked that reaction in the Mountie, but Mrs. Vecchio was unused to seeing it in anyone else. Their expressions were virtually identical as they sat there looking as if they wished they were anyplace else but here.

A sudden sensation washed over the matronly Italian, one she didn't quite understand. As if her heart and soul were seeing something that her mind could not quite grasp yet. She had , had these feelings before once or twice. A kind of intuition that filled her with a strange sense of certainty about something, though she never knew where it came from. As she sat looking at the Mountie and the boy, the sudden knowledge that they were somehow connected filled her.

Noah's eyes widened suddenly and he popped out of his chair.

"Excuse me Mrs." He said. "May I use the bo- the bathroom please?" He said as if he were searching for the proper word.

"Of course dear." Mrs. Vecchio said, snapping from her reverie. "It's just down the hall and to-"

"I remember." Noah cut her off, and almost but not quite ran from the room.

"Oh yeah, he's Mr. Manners all right." Joey mumbled around a mouthful of food, rolling his eyes theatrically.

"Excuse me." The Mountie said, rising from his seat and following after the boy. He spared Ray a glance as he left, and the Italian Detective frowned slightly in response to Fraser's unspoken question.

"Raymondo!" His mother said crisply, as she rose and began automatically clearing the dishes from the table.

"Come and help me in the kitchen."

"Now." She enunciated, when he didn't move fast enough for her liking.

With a resigned sigh, Ray rose and followed his mother.

Noah stepped into the bathroom, closing and locking the door firmly behind him as he did. He bounded to the sink and quickly opened both faucet taps as wide as they would go until a torrent of water flowed noisily down the drain. Then he threw back the lid to the toilet and proceeded to quietly vomit up the entire contents of his protesting stomach.

It seemed that he had learned to do everything quietly in the last several months. First, because his Granddad was always either drunk or hungover and would curse like a sailor if he'd dared make even the slightest bit of noise. And then, because the tiniest sound might be enough to incur his father's wrath, though Noah had learned that he could be as quiet as a church mouse and still do that.

He continued to vomit, long after his stomach had been emptied, long after he had begun shaking with the effort to hold his emotions in check, and long after tears had begun streaming down his face silently. As if his body, exhausted by the strain of holding too many feelings in at once, suddenly just needed to get rid of something, anything to ease the pain and guilt he felt.

Finally the sickness passed, leaving Noah pale and trembling on the bathroom floor. Tears continued to roll sluggishly down his cheeks, but he was too tired to even wipe them away. It would be so easy; to just curl up in a little ball and sob until he was spent, to cry until there were no tears left to shed and no emotions left to feel. But, instead he forced himself up and washed away his tears with a cold washcloth by the sink.

He flushed the toilet, then rummaging under the sink for a moment, poured a capful of Lysol into it and flushed again, to rid the room of the smell of vomit. He studied his reflection in the mirror for a moment, schooling his features into some semblance of composure before unlocking the door.

He almost walked into the Mountie, who was standing outside the bathroom, concern clearly etched on his face. Noah took an involuntary step backward, catching himself just before he flinched.

"Are you all right?" Fraser asked.

Noah sighed, "I'm fine Fraser." He said. "I'm just fine."

He brushed past the Mountie and stepped back out into the hall without another word. Dinner was apparently over, as all the Savelli children seemed to be congregating in the living room by the television set. Noah joined them and the Mountie watched as he climbed onto the far end of the sofa, resting his chin on his knees wearily.

Ray joined Fraser by the bathroom, noting the troubled look on the Canadian's face as he peered at the boy across the room.

"Is he okay?" he asked Fraser.

The Mountie looked at his friend absently and shrugged.

"He says he's fine." But it was clear from his tone that Fraser wasn't convinced.

Ray shook his head in wonder. "I have never met such an annoyingly stoic kid before, in my life." He said slowly.

He eyed the Mountie askance for a moment. "Actually he kind of reminds me of you Benny."

Fraser turned his full attention on the Detective suddenly and frowned.

"Well I think he's learned to be that way Ray." He said, rather more sharply then he'd intended.

Ray's eyes flashed. "Hey don't take it out on me Benny!" he cried. "I'm not the one smacking the kid around you know!"

The Mountie's head dropped apologetically. "I know Ray." He said. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm just a bit on edge."

Ray sighed. "We all are Benny." He said, the heat draining from his voice. "Even Ma is acting kind of strange, she said something really weird to me in the kitchen just now."

"Oh?" the Mountie said, looking up curiously. "What was that?"

The detective shrugged. "I don't know, something about having a funny feeling." He shook his head, somewhat ruefully. "The last time she said that, my Uncle Al moved in for five months."

A wistful smile appeared on the Mountie's face and his eyes seemed to lose focus. "Perhaps she's just experiencing a sudden flash of insight." He said softly.

Ray made a face and rolled his eyes, thinking that the heat must finally be getting to his friend.

"Whatever." He said sourly. "All I know is that I thought we'd never get rid of him. My room still smells like cheap cigars."

The Mountie's smile broadened slightly, but his eyes still seemed distracted. Ray sighed wondering if his friend had learned anything helpful from Father Behan. He certainly hoped so, since what he had found out from the Department of Social Services had not been very encouraging.

The detective sighed. "So what did Father Behan have to say." He said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ray saw Noah look up suddenly from his seat. Ray turned to face the child and was startled to see Noah staring intently at them, as if he were listening to their conversation. But that was impossible, no one could possibly hear anything from clear across the living room, especially over the background noise of the television and Ray's boisterous nephews. Well almost no one, the detective thought suddenly, eyeing the Mountie askance.

"Nothing good." Fraser said slowly, seemingly oblivious to the boy's scrutiny.

Ray put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on Benny." He said. "Lets go someplace where we can talk in private."

Obediently, the Mountie followed the detective from the room.

Noah watched them go with a slight frown on his face. Truthfully, he hadn't been eavesdropping, it just didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he had been the subject of the conversation that was all. He felt eyes upon him suddenly, and turned to find Gina once again staring at him from the other end of the couch. She tilted her head quizzically, before getting up and taking a seat right next to him. Noah didn't say a word as she slowly raised her hand and very gently, almost tenderly, touched his face.

"What happened to you?" she asked slowly, her large eyes shining in bewilderment.

"Walked into a door." He said without missing a beat.

He knew he wasn't fooling anyone, but he also knew that "My dad smacked me a good one" would come out sounding all bitter and pathetic, so he didn't say it.

Joey and his older brother Michael had been sitting on the floor in front of the television arguing over which Nintendo game to play next, when Noah's remark abruptly ended their debate.

"Gina." Michael warned his little sister.

"What?" the child asked quizzically, her eyes turning on her brother.

Michael's eyes widened slightly, silently communicating his disapproval as he shook his head.

"Well, what did I do?" Gina whined plaintively. "All I did was ask a question."

"So stop asking stupid questions already and shut up!" Joey said crossly.

Tears suddenly flooded the little girl's eyes. "I'm telling Mom!" she cried in a wounded voice.

Joey shrugged. "So go ahead and tell her." He said nonchalantly. "See if I care...baby."

"I am not a baby!" Gina cried indignantly.

"Baby baby baby baby." Joey began obnoxiously chanting.

"Ugh, both of you shut-up." Michael said, rolling his eyes.

"Do I have to come in there?" Maria's voice called from the kitchen.

"No!" The Savelli children called back as one.

"Don't tell me to shut-up!" Joey said, continuing the argument without missing a beat. "Just cause your oldest, you always think you can boss us around!"

"Yeah!" Gina agreed, suddenly switching allegiances.

Made bolder by her unexpected support, Joey went on. "Yeah, who died and made you King anyway?"

"Yeah!"

Michael merely frowned. "You are such an idiot." He said in disgust.

"I am not!" Joey cried, rising to his knees. "You take that back! Just cause I don't get straight A's like some people, doesn't mean I'm stupid you know!"

"I meant, you're an idiot for acting like such a jerk!" Michael barked back.

Joey blinked, unsure if he'd just been insulted or not. "Yeah...well." He began slowly. "You're an idiot for being so bossy."

Michael let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine." He muttered, shaking his head. "So can we just pick a game already?" He went on sardonically. "Sometime before I leave for college would be nice."

Joey shot his brother a sour look in response.

Michael caught sight of Noah out of the corner of his eye and frowned. The kid was sitting completely still like a pale statue, with his eyes screwed tightly shut as if he were in pain.

"Hey, kid." He called. "Hey, you okay?"

Noah's eyes flew open and his head snapped up. "Nothing!" He cried, before looking around in confusion. "I'm sorry." He said. "What was the question?"

The brothers exchanged a puzzled look. "I asked if you were okay." Michael said slowly.

"Yes I'm fine." Noah said automatically. "Thank you."

The brothers exchanged another solemn look.

"Uh.." Joey began tentatively. "Ya wanna play?" He said, holding up the video game joystick.

Noah shrugged, but Michael could see a spark of interest in the kid's eyes.

"Yeah, it's your choice." He said, sweetening his brother's offer. "Any game ya wanna play."

"Hey!" Joey protested. Michael promptly silenced him with a well-timed punch on the arm.

Noah frowned slightly. "That's okay." He said shaking his head. "I wouldn't want to cause an argument."

Both boys blinked in confusion, looking at each other for a few moments, before bursting out laughing.

"That wasn't an argument." Michael said lightly.

"It wasn't?" Noah asked, incredulous.

"Uh uh." Joey said smiling. "That's just the way we talk to each other."

Michael nodded. "We don't mean anything by it."

"Yeah, it's like this whole Italian thing." Joey added.

Noah glanced at Gina, even the little girl was nodding in agreement. Noah's eyebrows shot up in wonder.

"I see." He said slowly.

"Yeah, so do ya wanna play or not?" Joey asked.

"Sure." Noah said with the ghost of a smile. "I've always wondered what it was like to play one of those things."

"Whoa whoa whoa." Joey said in disbelief. "Settle down Beavis, are you saying you've never played a video game before?"

"I've never even seen one before, to tell you the truth." Noah said softly.

Michael and Joey exchanged a shocked look. "What are ya from another planet or something?" Joey asked sharply.

Noah blinked. "No." he said very logically. "I'm from Ireland."

"So what they don't have video games in Ireland?" Michael asked.

Noah shrugged. "Not in my neighborhood."

"Kinda makes ya glad to be an American don't it." Joey said, laughing.

Michael frowned darkly at his brother to shut him up. "Well." He said softly. "We'll start with something easy then."

CHAPTER EIGHT
Past the point of rescue

The Detective and the Mountie stepped out onto the porch each taking a seat, Fraser in one of the cushioned deck chairs and Ray in the porch swing to his left. The sun sat low on the horizon moments away from setting, but even though the day was drawing to a close humidity still hung in the air like a sticky blanket. Ray sighed, trying to relax. He stretched his long legs before him and leaned back into the swing setting it gently rocking. Fraser remained ill at ease, he sat perched on the edge of his chair holding the brim of his Stetson in white knuckled hands.

"Did you find out any thing about Noah's father?" He asked softly, without even looking up.

Ray frowned. "Well, I know you're not gonna be too happy about this, but the guy's been arrested before. A few times as a matter of fact." He said.

Fraser said nothing, but he began to slowly fan himself with his Stetson. Ray had never seen him do that before and for some reason it concerned him.

"You okay Benny?" He asked.

Fraser nodded. "Go on." He said.

Ray's brow knit in concern, but he continued. "Brendan Lochlainn." He said. "189 South Elizabeth street. Resident of Chicago since 1996. He's here on a two-year work Visa, which is about to expire but apparently he's been shacking up with some woman on and off for the last six months, they're supposed to be engaged. She's sworn out two complaints on him for assault. Both times the charges were dropped. He does have one complaint still pending against him though for drunk and disorderly conduct, trial date hasn't come up yet. If he's convicted, his Visa will be revoked."

"And this person was given custody of a child." The Mountie said flatly.

Ray sighed. "Well, technically he hasn't been convicted of a crime. The previous charges were dropped and this latest complaint didn't even occur until a few days ago. Social Services assured me that a case worker checked out the home environment thoroughly before the boy arrived and found it to be acceptable...whatever that means."

The Mountie looked up, eyeing Ray with one slightly raised eyebrow. The detective shrugged.

"Yeah I know. What can I tell you Benny? There haven't been any reports of suspected child abuse and even if their had been, you should see the backlog of cases in this place." He said, shaking his head in utter disbelief.

He blew out a quick breath before continuing. "It really doesn't matter one way of the other though, since Noah isn't a US citizen, Social Services would've just handed the whole matter over to INS regardless."

"And what happens to the boy if his father loses his Green Card?" Fraser asked softly.

"What always happens, he becomes a ward of the state. Only in this case, the state happens to be Ireland so he gets sent back home to go into foster care or whatever."

The Mountie stood up suddenly and began to slowly pace the length of the porch. Ray watched him in silence for a few minutes, wondering if he was thinking or just upset. It was impossible to tell from his face, which as usual was an inscrutable mask, but the muscle working in his jaw told a different story.

"Look, the kid doesn't have any other relatives besides his father." Ray said softly. "He was brought here through a sponsorship program that locates family members living in the states. If the father goes back, the kid goes with him, end of story."

Fraser stopped pacing and stood leaning against the porch railing in thoughtful silence for a few moments.

"Noah's mother was killed nine months ago." He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "It happened on his birthday. She was in a grocer's shop when a bomb went off. Three other people were killed as well."

"Jesus." Ray breathed.

"Then, in April, Noah and a friend were caught in the crossfire between the police and a group of radical provisional soldiers." The Mountie went on bleakly. "When it was over, the other boy was pronounced dead at the scene and Noah was left badly injured. He'd been shot twice, once in the shoulder and once in the back. After spending five weeks in the hospital he was discharged, only to find that his grandfather had been stabbed to death in a bar fight the week before his release."

Fraser stopped speaking, letting his words sink in for a few moments before continuing.

"It's not just a matter of having no one left to turn to Ray." The Mountie said earnestly. "There's nothing left for the boy there. Nothing but painful memories and violence."

"So what, leaving him to the tender mercies of a man who regularly beats the snot out of him is somehow preferable?" The Italian asked sharply.

"Of course not." Fraser said flatly.

"Well, I don't understand what you think we can do here Benny?" Ray said, shrugging impotently. "Okay, both choices suck I admit it, but sometimes you just gotta do the best you can with what you got. Life doesn't always come complete with a made to order happy ending...you of all people should know that."

The Mountie looked up sharply at that, eyeing Ray very strangely for several minutes. Finally he began to shake his head.

"No, I won't accept that. There has to be something else we can do."

"There isn't."

"Well, someone else we can talk to then."

"No."

Ray appreciated Fraser's persistence perhaps more than anyone did, but sometimes you just had to know when it was time to throw in the towel.

"It's over Benny." He said softly. "It's over and there's nothing either one of us can do about it."

"I made a promise Ray." The Mountie murmured. "I gave him my word I would help him. I can't go back on my word. Not with him too."

And suddenly the detective got the feeling that they weren't just talking about Noah anymore.

"What do you mean "him too?" He asked slowly.

Fraser's mouth suddenly closed and he ducked his head, staring at his feet as if embarrassed that he'd said too much.

Ray's eyes narrowed. "This has something to do with Victoria, doesn't it?"

He thought for sure that Fraser would deny it, but instead the Canadian seemed to suddenly collapse in on himself. It wasn't physical, Fraser's shoulders did not sag and his head hung no lower, but the Italian could see the change in him all the same. Like an internal switch had been suddenly turned off inside him, extinguishing a light that only Ray could see.

"She needed my help Ray." The Mountie said, still staring at his feet as if ashamed. "Maybe more than anyone ever did. She needed my help and I didn't give it to her."

'So they were back to this again' Ray thought darkly. Every time he thought they'd finally managed to put that woman behind them, there she was again turning up like a bad penny. Anger welled up within him not for the Mountie, but for her, for what she'd done to him. Damn her, how he hated her. Hated her for plunging his best friend into a depression so profound, it had taken him months to recover from it. Hated her for breaking his heart so thoroughly, so brutally that he doubted whether Fraser would ever have the courage to love anyone ever again. Hated her for undermining the Mountie's confidence, for making him see every defeat as a personal failure. Most of all though, he hated her for that bullet, his bullet in Fraser's back.

"You did what you had to do Benny." He began carefully, struggling to keep any trace of anger from his voice. "That's all any of us can do."

"What I had to do..." The Mountie echoed softly, before his voice trailed off completely.

While they'd been talking the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, but darkness had not quite fallen. Fraser was a dark silhouette against a colorless sky as he once again took a seat, hunched forward on the edge of the chair, clutching the brim of his Stetson like a drowning man clutches a life preserver.

"You know, it seems to me that I've been standing at a crossroads my entire life." He began slowly.

Ray, sensing that his friend needed to get something off his chest, said nothing.

"Somehow I just keep making wrong...turns." Fraser said with some irony. He blew out a long slow breath before continuing.

"Do you know how long my father and I went without speaking before his death?" He asked in such a flat toneless voice that Ray knew he expected no answer.

"Two years." He continued oblivious. "Two years without a word... Then out of the blue, he called me the day before he was killed." The Mountie's voice grew even softer then. "I knew there was something wrong.." He said. "I could hear it in his voice, but I never asked him what it was."

He stared into the growing darkness with far away eyes as Ray sat and listened in mesmerized silence. He didn't know what had brought on Fraser's sudden need to open up like this, but he suspected it had something to do with Noah. As if the boy were a catalyst, somehow triggering the melancholy feelings that his friend kept so well hidden.

"I was afraid to." Fraser went on. "I was afraid that if I called him on it he'd feel as if I had lost faith in his abilities and were somehow questioning his authority."

The Mountie's face was lost in shadows, but Ray could hear the soft ironic chuckle in his voice as he went on. "At least, that's what I told myself at the time." He said. "The truth is, I was afraid he would think me weak if I asked. I didn't ask, because I knew if our positions had been reversed he wouldn't have."

Fraser sighed, a long shuddering sigh and leaned back into the cushions of the chair as if he were suddenly weary. Ray didn't know what to say, so he remained silent. The lack of regard he had for his own father was well known and his mother would often admonish Ray for it, but now he was beginning to wonder if there were such a thing as having too much respect for someone. He wondered which was worse, constant fighting or not speaking at all. Both prospects left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

"All I ever wanted was to be just like him." Fraser went on after a long moment. "In the end I think, maybe I succeeded too well. Placing duty ahead of everything else."

He swiped at his face suddenly, 'had he been crying?' the detective wondered, shocked. "I'm sorry Ray." Fraser said sounding more like his old self. "I'm just tired. I haven't been sleeping well lately."

He seemed to mentally shake himself, as if once again tucking away all his fears and insecurities into that secret place deep within him that seemingly only Ray had ever seen. The mask was completely back in place by the time he spoke again.

"I'll take Noah back to my place tonight." He said with little inflection in his voice. "I think it'll be easier for him, not being around so many people just now. Then tomorrow, I'll take him to see a doctor. He was sick in the washroom earlier, he tried to mask the odor with disinfectant, but I could smell it anyway. While we're there, you can pick up his father."

He got up then, and moved toward the front door without another word.

"Hey, Benny." Ray called after him softly.

The Mountie stopped in the half opened doorway, but he didn't turn around or even acknowledge Ray's voice. He just stood there, waiting in silence for the detective to continue.

"Your father's death." Ray said gently. "It wasn't your fault. You do know that don't you?"

Fraser didn't answer right away. He seemed to be carefully considering the question as he once again stood staring at his feet.

"Most days I do." He said finally. "I'm just not so sure about today."

And he was gone; striding through the door and back into the house before Ray could say another word.

CHAPTER NINE
Insomnia and the hole in the universe

Ben awoke abruptly, when his hand inadvertently brushed the cold empty pillow beside him. He sat up, blinking in the darkness and was immediately assaulted by a small white ball of fur.

"Dief." He grunted softly, pushing the wolf pup's questing tongue away from his face, and quickly rose to his feet.

According to the nightstand clock glowing faintly red in the early morning gloom it was 3:35am, but there was no sign of Saoirse. She hadn't even been to bed yet, the Mountie realized frowning at her half of the obviously still made bed. He'd left her reading in the living room around 10pm, no doubt she'd fallen asleep out there. At least he thought that's what had happened, he certainly hoped she wasn't sick again.

She'd been unable to keep anything down for the last two weeks and the Mountie was frankly starting to get worried. He'd wanted to get her checked out by a doctor, but Saoirse had refused assuring him that it would pass. She'd had a very nervous stomach as a girl and though she had more or less grown out of it, stress would sometimes get the better of her even now. Ben supposed it was just a case of nerves, what with the wedding being so close and all. Still he would've preferred to hear that from a professional, for his own peace of mind if nothing else.

Dief let out a plaintive whine and the Mountie eyed him disapprovingly as the cub excitedly paced the length of the bed. He seemed to think that since Ben was up it was time to play and he yipped eagerly just to make sure that the Mountie had gotten the message.

"Diefenbaker." Ben said sternly. "Stop that. You know you're not supposed to be on the bed. Get down, now."

Dief tilted his head slightly then flopped down on the bed, rolling over onto his back playfully.

Ben rolled his eyes. "That's it I'm sending you to obedience school. There's nothing worse than a wolf who doesn't listen." He leaned down, meeting the cub's eyes. "You'd think you were deaf or something." He said patiently.

Dief's only answer was to begin licking the Mountie's chin affectionately. Ben tried to hold his severe expression, but wound up breaking into a grin after a few moments. He scratched the pup between the ears fondly.

"What am I going to do with you." He said, chuckling softly to himself.

Something told Ben that being adopted by a wolf pup was not going to make his life any easier. His father had not liked the idea at all. Taking a wild creature from its natural habitat and trying to raise it in domestic captivity went completely against all of Bob Fraser's beliefs. Ben agreed with him and he had tried to explain to his dad that he had not encouraged Diefenbaker to stay with him. In fact he had tried to set the cub free several times, going so far as to track a pack of wolves for a day and a half and leave the pup with them to be adopted.

Ben had stood unmoving among the trees for several hours, watching to see what would happen. Ready to intervene, if the pack should show any sign of rejecting or injuring the cub. When he'd finally been satisfied that Dief had been accepted he'd left, following a different route than the one he'd taken through the forest. He'd stopped to make camp some 15 miles away and completely up wind from the spot where he'd left the pup, and yet when he'd awakened the next morning, there was Dief. Licking Ben awake just as he'd done every morning since the Mountie had found him in that mine shaft. It was then that Ben had decided that maybe someone was trying to tell him something.

He left the bedroom after a few moments with Dief happily following. There weren't any lights on, which seemed odd. If Saoirse had indeed fallen asleep while reading, then the living room light should be on at least. Then again maybe she'd simply rolled over and turned it off without thinking, half-asleep. He stepped into the living room and saw her sitting curled up on the couch staring off into space. Mildly concerned, Ben walked over and sat down beside her.

"Can't sleep?" He asked softly.

Saoirse didn't look at him. She just kept staring straight ahead into the darkness.

"I was asleep." She said finally. "I strange dream woke me and I haven't been able to get back to sleep since."

"Was it a nightmare?" Ben asked.

Saoirse's eyes narrowed as she thought about the question. She seemed to be more distracted than scared by her experience.

"I believe it was, yes." She said, before finally turning her head to regard the Mountie. "It was about you Ben." She continued. "You were in a place that seemed to be made entirely of concrete. I could hear the clack of your boots on it as you ran. You were running towards someone with your arm outstretched as if you were reaching for her, but when you finally got there, there was this loud crack like a small explosion and you fell away." Saoirse shuddered slightly and the Mountie put his arms around her shoulders.

"The look on your face Ben." She went on, locking eyes with the Canadian. "It was so full of regret and pain, as if something you desperately needed had been suddenly torn away. It just scared me."

"It was just a dream Saoirse." Ben said reassuringly. "I'm right here and I'm fine. There's no reason to be frightened."

He took hold of both her hands, for some reason the charge of her touch had diminished over the last several weeks, even as her intuition had grown.

She'd been answering the phone before it rang and addressing the person on the line by name before they'd said a word for days now. Ben found that he didn't even need to ask her questions anymore, she'd answer them before he could formulate the words. It didn't annoy him; most times she didn't even realize she was doing it. Actually he found it more amusing than anything else. In the same way that he found her green thumb gone awry amusing as well. Lately Saoirse's plants had been growing beyond all reason, turning their house into something more closely resembling the Brazilian rain forest than a home.

"Your hands are like ice." The Mountie admonished suddenly. "Are you cold?"

He didn't wait for an answer, but got up and pulled the afghan from Saoirse's rocking chair and draped it over her. She often liked to sit curled up inside her "cuddley blankie" as she jokingly referred to it and read quietly by the fire.

She eyed him strangely, obviously still upset by her dream.

"Do you believe in fate Ben?" She asked suddenly, and the Mountie's eyebrows shot up, puzzled.

He sat down beside her again and considered the question as Saoirse watched him intently.

"If by fate you mean, do I believe that everything is planned out for us from the moment we're born, leaving us with no control over our own lives, then no I do not believe in fate."

Saoirse's mouth quirked into a wan smile. "That's what I used to believe as well." She said. She turned in her seat to fully face the Mountie. "But, what if we're wrong Ben?" She asked. "What if none of it is up to us?"

Ben's brow knit in confusion. "I'm not exactly sure what you're asking me Saoirse." He said slowly.

Saoirse sighed, leaning back against the armrest of the couch wearily.

"When I left Br-Belfast, I could have gone anywhere." She began. The Mountie noticed the slip, but didn't mention it. "Why did I come to Canada? To Dawson Creek? I didn't know anyone. I knew nothing about the area. At the time I thought it had been just a spur of the moment decision. A place on the map that I liked the sound of. Only now I'm not so sure. I ran from the arms of one man straight into the arms of another, almost as if you'd been here waiting for me all along. Almost as if we were destined to meet."

Ben shrugged. "So what if we were." He said softly. "Would that be so terrible?"

Saoirse reached up and caressed the Mountie's cheek tenderly. "No." She whispered. "Of course not Ben. I'm not denying that I feel as if you and I were supposed to meet. But I can't deny to feeling just as strongly, that we're just not meant to stay together."

The Mountie sighed in something like exasperation. "This just sounds like cold feet to me." He said a little bitterly.

Saoirse stiffened slightly. "No." She said. "It's not. I can understand why you might think that and God knows I've made it easy enough for you to, but this has nothing to do with having cold feet."

Her lower lip began to tremble slightly and she looked down, making Ben feel like a heel. He was about to apologize when Saoirse suddenly looked up with such an intent look on her face that he couldn't speak.

"All my life I've been afraid Ben." Saoirse started softly. "I've been afraid of my father, I've been afraid of Brendan, but I've never felt afraid with you. For the first time in my life I'm with someone I feel safe and loved with, and I don't ever want that feeling to go away." Her voice cracked with emotion as she quickly averted her eyes.

Ben moved toward her, but she pulled away shaking her head.

He sighed. "I don't understand how you can think that we're not meant to be together." He said softly. " Saoirse if you'll just allow me to, I'll love you for the rest of my life."

"It wasn't me that you were running towards in that dream Ben." She said sadly.

The Mountie's eyes widened slightly as understanding finally hit and a hollow feeling opened up in the pit of his stomach.

"She hasn't vanished Ben." Soairse went on. "She hasn't forgotten you, and one day she will come back into your life." She looked up to gaze levelly at the Mountie. "Whether it's on your terms or hers, remains entirely up to you."

"That part of my life is over." The Mountie said emphatically. "I'm with you now."

She smiled a small sad smile and sighed. "I know you think you've put her behind you Ben, but you haven't." Saoirse said softly, her voice full of regret. "She's touched your heart in a way that I never could." She raised a hand to silence the protest that had been forming on the Mountie's lips.

"It's all right, I'm a big girl I knew what I was getting into from the moment we first met, but that doesn't change the fact that you have unfinished business. And until you take care of it, what you and I have can never be secure."

Ben blinked, for once at a loss for words. He respected Saoirse's insights, but this went beyond all reason.

"Saoirse...what are you saying?" He asked, already regretting the question and dreading the answer.

She didn't answer right away, just closed her eyes and sat there with a pained look on her face.

"I'm saying that I'm tired of tempting fate Ben." She said finally. "If it were just myself I were risking that would be one thing, but it's not that simple any-" She broke off suddenly, shaking her head. "You know it's funny." She started again after a moment. "No matter how hard you try to escape your past it always winds up catching up with you in the end."

"What do you want me to say?" The Mountie asked sharply. "That if I had it to do all over again I'd let her go? Fine, I'd let her go."

Saoirse looked at him for a long time with her penetrating green eyes.

"No you wouldn't." She said finally. "Maybe you think you made a mistake Ben. And maybe one day you'll even have to answer for it, but I won't be here when you do." Her face fell at the devastated look on the Mountie's face. "I... I'm so sorry Ben." She whispered, before bursting into tears and fleeing the room.

Ben just sat on the couch for the rest of the night staring into the darkness. Around daybreak, he finally made his way back to the bedroom. He was not surprised to find Saoirse already gone. He hadn't heard her leave, but that seemed somehow fitting. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the empty closet and remembering the feel of her in his arms, the scent of her hair, the music of her laugh. They hung in the air like a fading dream that had ended all too soon. He was alone again and even as the crushing weight of that realization came crashing down on him, he knew that somehow he would survive. Surviving was what he did best after all, even if he didn't particularly wish to.

Noah crept back to Fraser's bed as quietly as he could, carefully stepping around the Mountie as he slumbered in his bedroll on the floor. Diefenbaker eyed him curiously as he passed, but thankfully made no sound that might alert the Canadian to the boy's midnight passage.

"That's the third time you've gotten up to use the washroom." Fraser said quietly. "Are you all right?"

Noah sighed in the midst of climbing back beneath the bed sheets. "I'm fine Fraser." He said patiently. "I was trying not to wake you."

He could see the Mountie suddenly sit up in the darkness. "I haven't been to sleep yet." He said mildly. "I've been listening to you tossing and turning all night."

Noah was glad Fraser couldn't see the sudden flush that suffused his features. "I'm sorry." He said, somewhat guiltily. "I didn't mean to keep you up. I'm not a very good sleeper. I suppose I should've warned you."

It seemed to Noah, that he had not gotten a proper night's sleep since his mother had died. He had been plagued by nightmares ever since that day and moving in with his father had only made them worse.

Fraser rose and Noah watched with some curiosity as he moved into the kitchen. Diefenbaker whom the boy supposed, was hoping for a handout, followed him. The Canadian never turned on any lights, but moved through the darkness with such unerring precision that Noah knew he could see clearly despite it.

A wistful smile came to Noah's lips as he was unexpectedly reminded of home. His own rather splendid night vision had been something of a legend back in Belfast. He and his mates would often steal into old man Vickers apple orchard in the middle of the night and filch apples right off the trees before anyone was the wiser. Noah was the only boy in the entire neighborhood who could tell a ripe apple from a green one even in total darkness. His friends had been exceedingly impressed by this, mainly because it cut down on the number of green apple bellyaches suffered.

He probably would have felt more remorse over the entire affair, had old man Vickers not been such a mean-spirited codger, who's absolute intolerance for anyone under thirty had made him practically infamous throughout the six counties.

Noah sometimes wondered what the tyrannical old carp was up to now, although he was fairly certain that his mates back home had seen it as one of their sacred duties as children to make his life as complete a misery as possible. In fact, he broke into a smile just thinking about it.

"Fraser what are you doing?" The boy asked curiously. The Mountie had opened one of the cupboards over the sink and withdrawn a somewhat dented and discolored pot, placing it on the front burner of the stove.

"Warm milk with cinnamon." Fraser said, opening the refrigerator. "A sure cure for insomnia. At least that's what my grandmother always used to say."

Warm milk?! The very thought made Noah's stomach turn practically inside out. He swallowed past the sudden queasy lump in his throat and lay down slowly across the bed, trying hard not to groan.

"I'll pass if you don't mind." He managed; hoping that the Mountie's eyes weren't sharp enough to see the grimace on his face in the darkness.

Fraser regarded him for a moment then finally shrugged.

"Suit yourself." He said nonchalantly. "You don't mind if I have some though do you?"

Noah turned onto his side drawing his knees up to his chest protectively.

"No," the boy said. "I don't mind."

He watched the Mountie light the stove and begin to slowly stir the milk in the pot. Well Noah couldn't say if warm milk was a cure for insomnia or not, but watching Fraser make it sure was. He yawned, feeling his eyes beginning to close despite his uneasiness and upset stomach.

He wished Fraser hadn't insisted he come here. Not when he knew his father would hit the roof when he arrived home to find Noah gone. But the Mountie had flat out refused to even discuss it, especially after Noah had let it slip that Brendan was unlikely to show up until after midnight. He always went out after work on Friday night. Friday was payday. The day Brendan eagerly awaited each week to go out and throw away his check on booze and pool. The drunker he'd get the more money he'd lose.

Noah could always judge the foulness of his mood by how late the hour was when he'd finally come stumbling into the house. A good night was around one or two in the morning, then there was a pretty good chance that Brendan would simply abuse the furniture a bit before finally stalking off to bed. A bad night though, a bad night was when Brendan would come stumbling in at five in the morning, enraged that he had lost all his money and looking for someone to take it out on. And lately all Noah could remember were bad nights.

He sighed, watching the Canadian methodically stirring the pot in silence for a few moments before rolling over onto his back. Thankfully it wasn't quite so muggy tonight and a slight breeze wafted in through the open window gently stirring the sheets on Fraser's bed. The boy watched for a time, thinking that Fraser's apartment was much like the man himself, a bit of an enigma. Spartan on the surface, but growing more complex the closer one looked.

Noah couldn't have cared less about the sparse dcor, so long as there were books to be read. And Fraser had plenty of those, with such interesting titles that the boy couldn't help but imagine all the possible worlds waiting between their covers. So by that reckoning, Noah judged the Mountie's apartment a fine place to live.

In much the same way, he had deemed the man himself acceptable as well. He couldn't say why he had felt such an immediate affinity for the Mountie and yet, hadn't Noah told him about his mother's death less than twenty minutes after they'd first met. He hadn't said much, just 'My mam died nine months ago,' but even that was so unlike him. The only possible explanation Noah could see was that for some inexplicable reason he felt safe with Fraser.

"Fraser, can I ask you something?" Noah ventured, wearily.

Diefenbaker who had apparently grown tired of the Mountie's inattention, came up beside the bed and began nuzzling Noah's hand affectionately.

"Of course." Fraser said, pouring the warmed milk into a metal cup.

Noah began absently scratching the half-wolf between the ears.

"Have you ever felt like you were from another planet?" The boy asked slowly.

The Mountie paused in the midst of topping his cup with cinnamon and Noah thought he could just make out the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"Frequently." Fraser said finally.

Noah almost nodded, somehow he'd known the Mountie would understand.

"All my life I've just felt like people were...I don't know, baffled by me I guess." Noah continued. "It's adults mostly. We can be having a perfectly sensible conversation when all of a sudden they'll look at me like I just fell out of the sky or something. Why is that?"

"Maybe it's because they're not used to having a sensible conversation with someone your age." Fraser said mildly.

Noah frowned. "So you mean when I'm older, they'll stop looking at me like that?"

The Mountie took a thoughtful sip from his cup. "Well..." he said. "I wouldn't go that far." Noah got the feeling the Canadian was speaking from personal experience.

The boy yawned wondering what time it was, wondering if it was a good night or a bad night. He almost groaned at the sudden nervous twist in his stomach and decided it was best not to think about it.

"You know, there are only two people I can think of who never looked at me that way." Noah said, eyeing the Canadian through the darkness. "My mam, and you."

Fraser smiled. "Well thank you kindly" He said. "I'll take that as a complement."

Noah returned the smile, pulling the sheets closer around his suddenly chilled body. Diefenbaker made a sound low in his throat and returned to his customary spot on the braided rug as the Mountie watched somewhat absently.

"And now there's a question I would like to ask you." He said softly.

Noah who quite frankly had been dozing off, forced his eyes open and eyed Fraser expectantly.

"How did you know I was Canadian?" he asked.

"Huh?" Noah asked sleepily.

"When I first introduced myself, you said 'let me guess, you're Canadian right?' and I was just wondering how you knew."

"Oh." The boy said, his eyes half-closed. "Diefenbaker." He said simply.

The wolf lifted his head at the mention of his name.

"I'm sorry?" Fraser said, confused.

Noah yawned again. "Well he was the Prime Minister of Canada right? From 1957 to 1962. I just figured that only someone from Canada would name their dog-sorry wolf, he corrected himself at Dief's indignant whine, something like that."

Fraser blinked. "I see." He said slowly. "Actually that's a fairly nice bit of deductive reasoning." He said, impressed.

"Mmm, thank you." The boy mumbled, not even bothering to keep his eyes open any longer. "You want to know what else I deduced?"

"Certainly."

"Well at first I admit, I was puzzled over what a Mountie would be doing in Chicago. Then when you introduced your friend as "Detective Ray Vecchio" I figured you must be attached to the Canadian Consulate in some way. Maybe as some sort of mediator."

"Liaison Officer." The Mountie said. "And yes, that's exactly right."

"Mmm...well there you are then." Noah murmured.

"You were wrong about one thing however." Fraser said, as his mouth quirked into a half-smile.

"Hmmm?" Noah sighed.

"John Diefenbaker was Canada's Prime Minister from 1957 to 1963, not 1962."

Noah's breathing became heavier as he mumbled into his pillow, "Oh, I stand corrected then" he said. Before finally drifting off to sleep.

Fraser stood there for several minutes just watching him, as an odd tightness gripped his chest. A notion had been growing in his mind now for some time. A preposterous, terrifying utterly remarkable notion that, if true, would change his life forever.

CHAPTER TEN
Where boys fear to tread

Fraser awoke suddenly, blinking sleep from his eyes and wondering what had pulled him from slumber so abruptly. It seemed to him that he'd only just managed to push all the crowded thoughts from his head and drift off, when reality had intruded and forced him reluctantly back into the waking world. An angry voice reached his groggy brain and he slowly sat up trying to pinpoint its source.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Noah sitting ramrod straight in bed. The boy was flushed and perspiring heavily and the look of abject terror in his eyes suddenly brought the Mountie back to full consciousness. Diefenbaker stood firmly between the boy and Fraser's front door, hackles raised and growling low in his throat.

"Naoise, I know you're in there!" Someone was shouting in the hallway while angrily pounding on the Mountie's door. "That damned Priest told me I'd find you here!"

"Dief, stay." Fraser said, standing up. The wolf continued to growl, but he held his ground as the Mountie moved toward the door.

Suddenly the door sprang open of its own accord and for once Fraser inwardly cursed his lack of a front door lock. Noah's father Brendan, stood in the doorway, eyeing the doorframe in confusion until his bloodshot gaze fell on the boy. His mouth twisted into a dark scowl as he strode menacingly into the apartment. Noah's eyes widened in alarm as he instinctively backed away and all but fell off the side of the bed in terror. Concerned, Dief ran to the boy's side while the Mountie stepped in front of Brendan cutting off his path.

Noah emerged from behind the bed a moment later, apparently unscathed from the spill he'd taken, but panting and trembling in fear none the less.

Brendan stared at Fraser through narrowed eyes, "Get out of my way Mountie!" He practically spat. "This is none of your affair, it's between me and the boy!"

The man smelled like a brewery and the Canadian's nostrils flared in disgust at the strong odor coming from him. Brendan's eyes were red-rimmed and sunken and he stood swaying on his feet like a listing sailor. He was obviously very drunk and though the Mountie knew in his head that the man was sick and needed help his heart could register only contempt for him and all the pain he'd caused.

"I'm afraid I can't do that sir." Fraser said evenly, but with a touch of iron in his voice. "I'm afraid I can't allow you near him. Not in your current state."

He heard Noah's breath catch and wondered suddenly if the man had a weapon of some kind on him. Too late the Canadian realized his error in trying to speak reasonably with a man who had lost all sense, as Brendan's eyes widened in a fury and he launched himself at Fraser.

Startled, the Mountie lost his balance and fell backwards crashing heavily to the floor with Brendan on top of him. The old familiar pain blossomed in his back, causing him to grimace and lose focus for a moment.

Brendan wrapped his hands around Fraser's neck, intent on squeezing the life out of him. The Canadian grabbed his attacker by the wrists, but the man had the strength of his hate propelling him and took no heed, as his hands relentlessly closed around the Mountie's throat. Somewhere Fraser could hear Diefenbaker barking, as if from very far away. The Canadian struggled to draw breath into his protesting lungs as his vision began to crumble and fade around the edges.

The Irish man cried out suddenly, loosening his grip on Fraser's throat, allowing blessed oxygen to once again flood the Mountie's lungs. Fraser gasped in relief and blinked several times to clear his vision. Brendan cried out a second time and finally removed his hands all together in an effort to fight off his new assailant. Noah had stolen up behind the drunken man and grabbed him around the neck, hanging on for dear life and sinking his teeth deeply into Brendan's shoulder.

Noah was not very big and the man obviously terrified him, but the Canadian saw only determination on his flushed face as he relentlessly held his ground. The boy never said a word, though Brendan screamed and cursed like a banshee, and something very much like pride welled up inside Fraser, as he watched Noah persevere with a single-minded-ness, that rivaled his own.

Pain bit into the Mountie's back as he struggled to disentangle himself from Brendan, but the man's full weight was on top of him, pinning him to the floor. He watched, in horror as the Irish man took hold of Noah's right arm, and gave it a savage twist, causing the boy to cry out in sudden pain. Noah lost his grip on Brendan and in that moment the man turned on him.

"Son of a Bitch!" He roared wrenching Noah's arm so fiercely the boy's shoulder came out of its socket with a loud pop.

Noah shuddered, letting out something half way between a moan and a sob as he struggled to disengage himself from Brendan's iron grip.

"Shut up!" Brendan shrieked, forgetting all about the Mountie in his fury, stalking the boy half way across the room until Noah's back was against the wall.

"What's it take to shut up that smart mouth of yours anyway?" He spat, his face inches from the boy's. "I see the way you look at me. Don't think I don't see it." He went on feverishly. "You think you're so bloody smart don't you? Well you're not." He laughed cruelly. "You're nothing. You're a worthless piece of shite who's own grandfather couldn't even stand the sight of him."

He still had hold of the boy's arm and although it must have been extremely painful for the child, Noah managed to remain silent. He had sunk down to his knees and tears were trailing sluggishly down his red cheeks, but not so much as a whimper escaped his lips.

"Let go of him." The Mountie said his voice deceptively soft.

Dief whined, torn between loyalty to Fraser and defending the boy. Finally he charged to the Mountie's side and after satisfying himself that the Canadian was indeed all right, remained there growling darkly at Noah's attacker. Fraser's words finally penetrated Brendan's alcohol soaked brain and he turned slightly to regard the Mountie through narrowed eyes.

"I thought I told you to stay out of this Mountie." He hissed.

"Let...go...of him." Fraser said again very slowly. "Before I come over there and make you let go of him."

The drunken man eyed the Canadian warily for a moment, as if trying to size up how big of a threat he posed.

Fraser stood tautly, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "You caught me off guard before." He said tightly. "Don't think it will happen again."

Brendan swallowed nervously; his eyes flickering to the growling wolf at Fraser's side then back to the Canadian again. He looked down at the boy and for just a second something almost like regret clouded his eyes, then Noah looked up at him and Fraser could see the look instantly draining away.

"Stop it!" Brendan barked. "Stop looking at me like that!"

He raised his hand suddenly and maliciously backhanded the boy across the face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Fraser's eyes widened in sheer fury as he closed the space between them in a heartbeat and launched himself at the drunken man. Brendan's back slammed against the wall with enough force to loosen plaster as the Mountie pinned him there, his right arm firmly pressed against the Irish man's Adams apple immobilizing him.

"Touch him again!" Fraser hissed his face close enough to Brendan's to smell the liquor on his breath. "And I will personally see to it that you are thrown into the deepest darkest hole there is and never see the light of day again!"

Brendan's red eyes bulged as he began gasping for breath, but the Mountie was relentless pressing against the drunken man's throat like a human vice. It startled Fraser to realize that he could literally kill this man without a second thought. Once he had held a gun on Gerard, the man who had had his father killed, yet somehow he had found enough mercy within himself not to pull the trigger. With Brendan though, there seemed to be no room in his heart for forgiveness only contempt.

"Fraser." A small voice whispered suddenly, following a slight tug on the Mountie's tee shirt.

Distracted, Fraser looked down to find Noah's blood spattered face regarding him somberly. A trail of blood streaked the boy's chin and the front of his shirt, from where his nose and the cut on his bottom lip, which had been reopened by the force of Brendan's blow, gushed freely. Noah seemed to hardly notice as he stared at the Mountie with eyes that changed from green to blue then back to green again, as if they had suddenly become a barometer for his feelings.

"You said he was sick." The boy said in a trembling voice. "That he needed help, remember?"

Fraser blinked as Noah's words hit him like a bucket of ice water bringing him back to his senses. His eyes flickered to the red-faced man before him, before once again returning to the boy's face.

"Yes, I remember." He said softly, admiring the boy's compassion and suddenly remembering his own.

He removed his arm from Brendan's throat disdainfully and wondered if the Irish man appreciated the irony of owing his life to the one person whom had the most reason to condemn him. Probably not he decided finally, scowling at Brendan as the man coughed theatrically catching his breath. Fraser looked up suddenly to find all of his neighbors crowded around the still open door to his apartment and almost smiled.

"You okay Fraser?" Mr.Mustafi said tentatively, stepping into the apartment.

"Yes, Mr. Mustafi I'm fine." The Mountie said, never taking his eyes off Brendan for a second. "I wonder if you would be so kind as to call Ray for me and tell him to please come down here right away."

Mr. Mustafi nodded quickly, backing out of the room. "Sure Fraser whatever you say."

Fraser grabbed a handful of Brendan's shirt and hauled him roughly to the closet. He opened it and quickly retrieved his handcuffs from the Sam Brown belt hanging on the back of the closet door. Then he once again man handled the Irish man across the room before seizing a chair from the kitchen table and abruptly pushing Brendan into it.

"I am making a citizens arrest." The Mountie said flatly, as he threaded Brendan's arms through the back of the chair and handcuffed him to it.

"Ow, OW!" The drunken man complained loudly at Fraser's coarse treatment.

"Oh I'm sorry." The Mountie said, leaning over him threateningly. "Did I hurt you?" He turned to the wolf "Dief watch him." He said. "If he moves, rip his throat out."

Brendan swallowed as the white wolf sat down in front of him, eyeing him as if he were the catch of the day.

Fraser walked over to Noah, who was standing quite motionless in the middle of the room and lifted him into his arms, careful not to add further insult to the boy's injuries. His neighbors parted like the Red Sea before him, having never seen the Mountie quite so angry before and finding it an all-together chilling experience. They stood staring in stunned silence as Fraser walked into the bathroom at the end of the hall and almost but not quite, slammed the door shut behind him.

"Wow, Fraser's really pissed." Mrs. Garcia's youngest Miguel said, speaking for them all as, one by one, heads began to nod in silent agreement.

The Mountie gently sat Noah down on the toilet seat, then opened the cabinet above the sink and began rummaging around inside it for a few moments. Noah watched him in silence, he felt light headed as if he were looking at Fraser from one end of a very long tunnel, and was surprised by how unreal the Canadian looked. In fact everything in the room had a sort of otherworldly quality the boy thought, looking around in confusion. As if, he had become detached from reality and now floated somewhere just outside of it. If not for the throbbing pain in his arm anchoring him to consciousness Noah thought, he just might lose his grip all together.

Fraser finally emerged from the cabinet with a tattered washcloth that may have once been white, but had long since faded to a dingy gray. He turned on the faucet and soaked the cloth for a moment, before turning to the boy. Noah's eyes had a sort of unfocused quality about them that the Canadian did not like. His brow knit in concern as he cupped Noah's chin in his hand in order to raise the boy's head and gently, clean the blood from his face. He was dismayed to discover the amount of heat radiating from the child's skin and his mouth pressed into a grim line as he pressed a hand to Noah's damp forehead.

"You're really angry aren't you." The boy said suddenly, his eyes focusing somewhat sluggishly on Fraser's face.

The Mountie didn't answer only shook his head slightly as he removed his hand and began to dab at Noah's nose with the wet cloth.

"You're angry with my Dad." The boy said flatly, shivering slightly at the feel of the rough material on his skin.

Fraser sighed, carefully cleaning the area around Noah's bottom lip as gently as he could. It had already begun to swell and since Fraser suspected it had been infected in the first place, he knew it must be painful to the touch. Noah flinched suddenly, as if confirming his thoughts and the Mountie grimaced in sympathy.

"I'm sorry Noah, am I hurting you?" He asked softly. The boy shook his head automatically and Fraser sighed once again. "I'm not angry with your-with Brendan, I'm angry with myself."

"At yourself?" Noah asked, confused. "Why?"

The Canadian turned away as if he were too ashamed to meet the boy's eyes. He busied himself with washing out the washcloth beneath the faucet for a few minutes, then finally looked up.

"For allowing him to hurt you again." The Mountie said softly. "It never occurred to me that he would come here looking for you, but it should have. I should have been better prepared. I wasn't thinking and I let you down Noah. I'm sorry."

Noah could only eye the Mountie in silence. He would have felt like a fraud, accepting an apology from Fraser for something that was clearly his own fault so he said nothing. He knew he'd caused nothing but trouble for the Canadian since they'd first met and that if anyone should be apologizing, it should be him, yet he couldn't seem to get his mouth to form the words. He was afraid of what Fraser might think of him if he found out what a coward he really was.

Fraser didn't wait for a reply, though he still wouldn't look the boy directly in the eye. Instead he very carefully began probing Noah's dislocated shoulder, deciding that kicking himself for what had already transpired was a colossal waste of time. Better to concentrate on what he could do now rather than dwell on it.

He returned to the cabinet above the sink, he used to try and keep it stocked with towels and facecloths for his neighbors use, but somehow the items always wound up disappearing. He'd finally stopped after noticing that a good portion of his paycheck was going toward replenishing the washroom supply each week. There was one raggedy towel lying on the top shelf, which would serve his purposes well enough. He removed it and quickly tore it diagonally into two triangular pieces, then once again knelt down in front of the boy.

"Great Scott!" The Mountie cried suddenly, glancing in the general vicinity of the bathtub. "Turtles!"

Noah turned his head in confusion, and then gasped at the sudden pain that jolted up his arm as Fraser popped his shoulder back into place. The boy shuddered, blinking stars as everything momentarily went dark and he felt himself pitching forward off the toilet seat, only to be steadied at the last moment by the Mountie's strong hands.

Slowly, Noah came back to his senses. Realizing suddenly that he had fallen against Fraser and that his forehead was now firmly pressed against the Mountie's shoulder, the boy abruptly reeled back disoriented and frightened by the man's close proximity.

"Easy, easy." Fraser soothed, carefully steadying him. "It's okay. I know that hurt Noah and I'm sorry."

The Mountie looked deep into the boy's eyes as he quickly fashioned a sling from one of the torn towel pieces and gently laid Noah's injured arm inside.

"I think you may have blacked out there for a moment." Fraser said softly as he brushed the hair from Noah's eyes.

The relentless humidity of the past few days had turned the child's loose dark curls into unruly ringlets that seemed to be forever falling in his face. The Mountie's own hair tended to do the same thing when it was too long, which was why he generally kept it so short.

"How's your arm feeling now?"

Noah blinked, looking down at the sling encasing his arm as if he were just now noticing it was there. He glanced at the bathtub then back to the Canadian, thoroughly chagrined.

"I can't believe I fell for that." He said softly, breaking into a wistful smile.

Fraser returned the smile, then backed away as the boy's eyes suddenly grew wide and he threw up all over the front of the Mountie's tee shirt.

Noah's heart practically stopped beating he was so mortified. He was convinced that in a moment Fraser would lose his temper and start yelling, but he never did. In fact, as the boy realized in horror that he was going to be sick again, the Mountie merely helped him down and opened the toilet seat in silence. He even knelt beside him and sympathetically rubbed the boy's back as he vomited green bile into the toilet, just as Noah's Mother had done when he'd been ill in the past.

The small reminder of her was suddenly more than the boy could bear, as a ragged sob tore from his throat, even though inexplicably his tears had run dry. The sickness passed but still he continued to weep barrenly, clutching the toilet in white knuckled hands as wrenching sobs, he was powerless to stop, vibrated through him.

Fraser gathered the weeping child into his arms. Sitting down on the drably tiled floor with his back to the tub, he slowly began rocking back and forth, making soothing noises and gently stroking the boy's head. He'd been wondering when Noah would finally break down, when whatever had been eating away at him would finally come bubbling to the surface and overwhelm him. He didn't know what the boy had been guarding so fiercely, but he suspected it had something to do with what Brendan had said before, about his Grandfather.

"It's my fault." Noah finally managed to choke out between sobs. He wouldn't look at the Mountie, though his face was buried in Fraser's chest and he was clutching a fistful of the Canadian's soiled shirt in his small white hand.

"She wouldn't have even been there if it hadn't been for me." He went on in an anguished voice. "It's my fault she's dead."

So that was it, Fraser thought stupidly.

"She, she'd baked a cake." Noah went on in a rush. "Chocolate with raspberry cream filling, my favorite. Only she'd realized at the last that there were no birthday candles in the house. She, she thought I'd be disappointed so she said she'd just go round to the grocer's down the street and get some. She said she'd be right back." The boy cried, dissolving into sobs once again.

The Mountie continued to comfort the boy as best he could. "Noah." He said gently, stroking the child's head. "It's not your fault."

"But it is." The boy cried sharply, looking up at Fraser with puffy red rimmed eyes. "Don't you see? She was right. I was disappointed. She must have seen it on my face. That's why she went to get the candles, so I could blow them out like some, some baby." His face collapsed into a mask of grief as he once again buried it against the Mountie's chest. "Those stupid bloody candles." He went on hoarsely. "I could have done without them, but because I had to be so, so selfish she died."

"You're not selfish." Fraser murmured softly, his chin on top of the trembling child's head. "In fact from what I've seen, you don't seem to have a selfish bone in your body."

He sighed suddenly, before going on. "When someone we love dies, it's easy to blame ourselves for the things we think we should have done. If only we'd done something or said something differently, then maybe they'd still be here. But the truth is it wouldn't have mattered. Your Mum died, because it was her time. It was just her time Noah, and nothing that you or I or anyone could have done would've changed that."

"I miss her so much." The boy choked out in a pained voice.

"I know you do." The Mountie soothed. "But tell me the truth, do you really believe that wherever she is now, she's blaming you for her death?"

The boy stiffened slightly then looked up. "I..I don't know." He said a bit hesitantly. "I never really thought about it that way before." His green eyes, once again churning with emotion, shifted to blue then back to green again as Fraser watched. "I suppose not." Noah said finally.

"And do you think she'd want you to blame yourself for the rest of your life?"

Noah sniffled mightily. "No." He finally conceded.

The Mountie smiled wanly. "No, of course not." He said.

Noah had calmed considerably, though he was still trembling and choking on the occasional sob. Fraser knew he hadn't completely convinced the child that he was not to blame for his Mother's death, but at least he'd gotten Noah to consider the possibility.

He knew that the boy would have to come to terms with his grief in his own time and in his own way. Until then, there wasn't much the Mountie or anyone else could do or say that would make him feel much better. Fraser knew that from experience, after all he'd been exactly where Noah was, once. He was also fairly certain that the child had, had some help in convincing himself that he was at fault and the thought angered him all over again. Not for the first time, the Mountie wondered just how far back the trail of emotional and physical abuse went and if in fact it would lead to the boy's Grandfather.

He reached up and grabbed the washcloth from where it was sitting on the edge of the sink and gently began cleaning Noah's flushed face. The boy had all but collapsed against his chest, completely spent from his emotional ordeal. The Mountie eyed him with a mixture of relief and concern. Relief that Noah had gotten something that he had been carrying around far too long off his chest and concern because he was obviously ill.

The child had no tears left and was no longer perspiring, which told Fraser that he was badly dehydrated. He was also burning up with fever, though the Canadian hadn't let on for fear of upsetting him, and vomiting bile, two sure signs of infection.

"Does it ever stop hurting?" The boy mumbled suddenly, his voice weary.

"Not completely, no." Fraser said smiling wanly. "But it does get better."

"When?"

The Mountie blew out a long slow breath. "Not for a long time I'm afraid." He said finally.

"So what happens now?" The boy asked. He had begun to shiver and Fraser held him closer for warmth.

"Now," The Canadian said. "Brendan goes to jail and you go to the hospital."

Fraser braced himself for an argument, but Noah merely sighed, a long shuddering sigh, surprising him.

"Will you go with me?" He asked, somewhat timidly.

"Of course I will." The Mountie said softly before once again brushing the hair from the boy's eyes.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Full circle

Fraser brought Noah to Mrs. Garcia's apartment and called Ray's cell phone, while the sympathetic Latin woman tended to the boy on her couch. The Mountie watched her place a cold cloth on Noah's forehead, listening to the phone ring for what seemed like the tenth time, and somehow, resisted the urge to start pacing nervously. Finally, the Detective picked up en route to the Mountie's apartment and barked "Vecchio" into the receiver, as was his custom. Fraser briefly told him what had happened and Ray radioed for an ambulance to meet them at the Canadian's apartment.

"Are you all right Benny?" Ray asked once everything had been arranged. "You sound kind of funny."

"I'm fine Ray." The Mountie assured him. Then before Ray could say anything more, he hung up.

He told Mrs. Garcia he needed to return to his apartment for a few minutes to put on some clothes and asked if she wouldn't mind looking after Noah while he was gone. He was just on his way out when the boy suddenly stopped him.

"Fraser." Noah called wearily.

"Yes?" The Canadian asked, his voice perfectly calm.

The boy sighed. "Just remember what you said, about him needing our help."

Fraser's mouth quirked into a small half smile. Of course the boy had seen right through him. He should have known he would, he was his mother's son after all.

"I'll remember." The Mountie said softly.

He left Mrs. Garcia's apartment and walked down the hall to his own small residence, in silence. Brendan was still sitting there, handcuffed to the chair, in the exact same position in which the Mountie had left him. Diefenbaker sat on the floor in front of the Irish man, watching him intently and growling low in his throat. Brendan eyed the wolf mutely, as he sat swallowing nervously and heavily perspiring.

Fraser entered the apartment, purposely coming up from behind Brendan just so he'd startle him.

"Jayzus!" The Irish man cried, flinching at the Mountie's unexpected arrival. "What are you some kind of ghost or something?"

Fraser said nothing as he opened the closet and took out a fresh pair of jeans. He quickly shrugged into them, completely ignoring the handcuffed man.

"I'm glad you're here anyway." Brendan went on, oblivious to the Mountie's inattention. "Listen call him off will yeh?" He said, tilting his head toward the growling wolf. "I don't like the way he's looking at me."

Fraser paused in the midst of pulling on a fresh tee shirt and eyed the white wolf mildly. "It seems to me, you should be grateful that's all he's doing." He said flatly, then quickly finished dressing.

Brendan stared darkly at the Mountie for a moment. "So that's it then." He said growing more agitated. "You're just going to leave me here trussed up like this indefinitely?" He said, rattling his bonds against the back of the chair indignantly.

The Canadian was not impressed. "No, not indefinitely." He said blandly. "Just until you're arrested."

Fraser sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the Irish man through slightly narrowed eyes for several minutes. Brendan squirmed, self consciously, beneath the Canadian's scrutiny.

"What?!" He cried finally, unable to stand the Mountie's gaze any longer.

"Just tell me one thing." Fraser said, frowning slightly. "Did you love her? Brendan blinked. "Saoirse," The Canadian clarified. "Did you ever love her?"

"Of course I did." Brendan said, either too drunk or too stupid to recognize the intimacy of the Mountie's question. "I loved her from the first moment I ever laid eyes on her."

Fraser made a face. "Is that why you beat her too?" He asked sharply.

"Hey I admit I didn't treat her right, the first time." The drunken man said defensively. "She left me and I deserved it, I won't deny it. But after she came back, I swore things would be different and I meant it. I just wanted us to be a family. The kind of family she'd always wanted."

"Even though you knew her child wasn't yours?" Fraser asked softly.

Brendan shrugged, frowning slightly. "Yeah well, she was real up front about that." He said. "She told me straight off that she was still in love with the father and that there could never be anything between us again, but I thought if I could just convince her that I'd changed then maybe she'd...I don't know, learn to love me again I guess."

"And did she?" Fraser asked so softly, his voice was practically a whisper.

"Well, she moved back in." The Irish man said, though he sounded unconvinced. "But now I think, maybe she did it just to get away from her Dad. He was pretty hard on her when she came back." He made a face. "Of course any chance I had with her disappeared as soon as the kid was born."

He broke off into gloomy silence, but the Mountie continued to stare at him expectantly. Fraser usually found that if he stared long enough at a suspect, they would eventually talk just to get him to stop. Brendan's tongue had already been loosened by the amount of alcohol he'd consumed though, so questioning him required little effort.

"I mean it was like, he became her whole world or something." The Irish man went on after a moment. "He was always needing this, or wanting that, or crying about whatever. Got so I couldn't even hear myself think after awhile."

"What did you expect?" Fraser said annoyed. "He was a baby."

"And I was her husband!" Brendan flared. "Or I practically was anyway. And after all I did for her! Would it have killed her to show a little gratitude? I took her in when she had no where else to go. Her and that bastard son of hers!"

"Call him that again and I'll break your nose." The Mountie said so casually the drunken man jumped.

He eyed the Canadian warily for a moment. "Who the Hell are you to sit there and judge me anyway." Brendan said slowly.

"There's one thing I don't understand." Fraser said softly.

"Yeah well you can just go on not understanding." The Irish man grumbled. "I'm through with talking."

"Well I'm not!" The Mountie flared angrily. He rose suddenly and advanced on the bound man, grabbing the front of his shirt and staring into his eyes threateningly.

"If you knew he wasn't yours then why pretend he was? Why take him in?" He asked sharply.

"For the money!" Brendan flared back, though his eyes were wide with fear. "I get sent a fat check every month for taking care of that kid!"

It took every ounce of self-control Fraser had not to beat the man to a bloody pulp.

Brendan wasn't sick and he didn't need help, he was scum, plain and simple. Selfish scum who cared for no one but himself, who'd sell his own mother for a case of beer. Who'd sold Saoirse's son, Fraser's son, for a damned Welfare check. The Mountie wanted to get his shotgun from his father's trunk and shoot the man's head clean off, but he didn't. He couldn't do that to Noah, who he knew despite everything, still cared for Brendan. Instead, he let go of the drunken man's shirt and slowly straightened up.

"I see." He said simply.

Fraser felt sick. He felt dizzy. Too many things were happening at once. Too many thoughts crowded together in his head. Too many emotions filled his heart. It was all suddenly just too much. He closed his eyes and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, while Brendan watched him in brooding silence.

Anger and guilt warred within him. Guilt over all that Noah had gone through. Anger at Brendan for how he'd treated the boy, anger at Saoirse for not telling him, but mostly anger at himself for making her feel that she couldn't. For, whatever else the Mountie might think of her actions, he knew she had only done what she'd done to protect their son.

Somehow, she'd known about Victoria. She'd known that eventually Victoria would come back into his life and wreak havoc. And what's more she'd been right. Fraser shuddered to think what Victoria might have done had he and Saoirse still been together. She would have done the exact same thing she'd done before, he realized suddenly, taken her revenge by striking at those closest to him, only this time it would have been Saoirse and Noah who would've had to pay for his mistakes.

Rather than risk that, she'd left and never told a soul who the boy's real father was for fear of putting his life in danger. Fraser wondered if Victoria would have gone so far as to seek the child out had she known about him. The best answer he could come up with was maybe. She'd burned down his father's cabin and tried to destroy his best friend's career and reputation as well as his own. There was really no telling what lengths she would have gone to, had she known the Mountie had a son as well.

He had a son, a son. The very idea was frightening and amazing all at once. Noah was his son and yet somehow he'd missed it, though it had been right there in front of him the entire time. How could he have been so blind? 'If it were just myself I were risking, that would be one thing, but it's not that simple anymore.' She'd all but admitted it to him the last time they'd spoken, but somehow he'd failed to make the connection.

What a fool he'd been. He should have put up more of a fight, when she'd told him she was leaving. He should have pleaded with her to stay rather than give her up so easily, but the truth was he'd been afraid. Deep down, he'd been afraid that she was right. Afraid that whatever hold Victoria had over him was still there. Afraid that if he didn't let Saoirse go, he'd only wind up wounding her more deeply later on. Afraid that, even though he loved her, maybe he didn't love her enough.

And suddenly Fraser felt some of the bitterness that he'd unknowingly been carrying around for years begin to melt away. Finally, he realized that though Saoirse had wounded him, it was no more than he had wounded her in return. Still she probably would have been willing to risk her heart and stay with him, if it hadn't meant risking Noah's as well.

Fraser wanted to throw up. There was no way he would ever be able to make it up to the boy. He didn't even know where to start. The thought that Noah would wind up hating him and Saoirse both when he finally learned the truth crossed his mind and it scared the Hell out of him.

"God." He breathed in a distraught whisper. "What have I done?"

There was a rapid knock at the door and Ray's head suddenly appeared around it, eyeing the Mountie worriedly.

"Hey Benny." He said, as Fraser's head snapped up almost guiltily. "The paramedics are right behind me. They're on their way up the stairs." He looked around for a moment. "Where's the kid?"

The Canadian stood, walking briskly toward the Detective. "Mrs. Garcia's apartment." He said tightly. "I'll show them."

Just before Fraser could brush past him into the hall, Ray reached up and gripped the Mountie's shoulder stopping him. The Canadian was a mess unshaven and pale, and there were deep circles under his eyes, revealing that he'd barely slept at all last night. His clothes were rumpled as if they'd just been thrown on and he hadn't even bothered to tuck his shirt into his jeans.

But it was the Mountie's eyes that concerned Ray the most. He saw anger bordering on rage in his friend's eyes and it scared him. He glanced at the man handcuffed to one of the Mountie's chairs then back to the Canadian.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, keeping his voice low so Noah's father wouldn't overhear.

Fraser stiffened slightly, but gave a curt nod of his head. "Just get him out of my sight." He said softly, before leaving the room.

Ray said nothing during the entire ride to the hospital. From the corner of his eye, he watched the Mountie sitting stiff and unmoving, staring at the back of the ambulance roaring down the street in front of them as if he were trying to see through it to the small occupant inside. Noah had refused to allow anyone to ride along with him, though Ray knew Fraser had wanted to. Rather than upset the boy further though, the Mountie had reluctantly agreed to follow along behind in the Riv with Ray.

The Detective had arranged for a squad car to pick Brendan up, honoring Fraser's wish not to see the man again. Later on Ray would find a quiet moment to take down the Mountie's statement himself, after he'd given his friend some time to decompress. Fraser was about as close to unhinged, as the Italian had ever seen him, though he'd taken great pains to hide the fact from Ray. Still, the Detective could plainly see the turmoil seething just beneath the Canadian's calm exterior, though he doubted if anyone else could.

Fraser had quickly ducked into the bathroom just before they'd left and more or less pulled himself together, though he'd remained unshaven and was bleary eyed due to lack of sleep. That there was something more going on with his friend than he knew about Ray had no doubt. However Fraser seemed unwilling or unable to tell him what that might be, so for the time being at least Ray would have to remain patient and wait. He figured it was the least he could do in return for the patience that Fraser had afforded him over the years.

The ambulance pulled into the emergency entrance of Cook County General Hospital and came to an abrupt halt. Ray skidded to a stop behind it and Fraser glanced at him, an unspoken question in his eyes. Ray flashed him a brief smile of understanding

"Go, Benny." He said. "I'll find a place to park."

The Mountie nodded once then opened the door and got out of the car. Ray watched as Fraser followed the paramedics through the hospital's emergency bay doors like a zombie, his face an inscrutable mask.

CHAPTER TWELVE
Anything but strong

Noah lay curled up on his side in an uncomfortably hard bed with noisy plastic sheets and a pillow that seemed to be chiseled from stone beneath his head. He sighed, staring at the thin blue curtain that had been drawn around the bed and picking at the collar of his hospital gown fitfully. The thing was covered in tiny red roses and he felt like a complete spastic wearing it, but he had no idea what had been done with his clothes so there was no other choice.

No one had bothered him for at least fifteen minutes and though he was grateful to be left alone, he was tired of tensing every time he'd hear footsteps approach. He knew it was just a matter of time before someone came at him with a needle or a tube or a probe of some kind and he'd just as soon get it over with rather than wait.

Doctors always said they just wanted to help you and yet they always seemed to be looking for any excuse to stick you with something. Like the stomach tube they'd put up his nose when he'd first arrived in the emergency room. Noah had just about jumped off the table when he'd seen it coming. If it hadn't been for the Mountie's reassuring grip on his hand, he probably would have. Only then he'd felt like such a baby for the way he'd reacted, that he couldn't even look at Fraser again.

As if that hadn't been embarrassing enough, they'd then stripped him down to his underwear and had some woman come in and take humiliating photographs of his bruised body with a large flash camera. Every time the flash had gone off, Noah would flinch wanting nothing more than to hide under the bed covers in shame.

Finally he'd gotten so upset yelling for everyone to just get out and leave him alone, that the Doctor had hustled everyone from the room. Everyone including the Mountie, who Noah couldn't stand to have seeing him like that. Noah still felt guilty about the way he'd acted, especially when he remembered the hurt look on Fraser's face. He closed his eyes fighting back tears; an IV drip had been placed in his left arm some time ago, allowing him to cry once again. Now, it seemed as if that's all he'd been doing since.

He was ashamed to admit that his own father hadn't crossed his mind even once in all the time that he'd been here. Instead, it was the Mountie who filled his thoughts. He had never met anyone like Fraser before. He was so...unflappable, like the calm at the center of a raging storm and he always seemed to know exactly what to do and say to make Noah feel better.

Tears blurred his vision suddenly, and he swiped at them angrily with the back of his hand. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep, but too many thoughts were running through his head at once, making sleep impossible. Not to mention the fact that he felt about as sick as a small hospital. The anesthetic that had been used to stitch up his lip was now rapidly wearing off and the whole bottom half of his face was throbbing painfully. His right arm, immobilized in the new sling they'd put on him in the emergency room, ached. And the stomach tube they'd inserted through his nose felt scratchy in the back of his throat and tasted like sour Vaseline every time he swallowed.

He wanted to leave, though somehow he knew he wouldn't be allowed to. He'd been cordoned off in a quiet corner just until they could find him a room upstairs.

He heard footsteps approaching suddenly and stiffened, waiting for the inevitable throwing back of the curtain and draining of bodily fluids to commence. Instead, the Mountie's face appeared around the curtain in front of him.

"Mind if I come in?" Fraser asked softly.

Noah tried to smile, but couldn't quite pull it off. He still felt terrible about the way he'd treated the Mountie earlier and was finding it difficult to look him in the eye. Finally he just shrugged and Fraser took that as his cue to enter.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

Noah shrugged once again. "I'm okay." He mumbled automatically.

The Mountie sat down on the edge of the bed and absently scratched his eyebrow with the back of his thumb as if he had something on his mind.

"It occurred to me." He said finally. "That I never thanked you for saving my life before, or for what you did afterwards."

Noah looked up startled, eyeing Fraser in silence for a moment.

"I just didn't want you or my Dad to wind up doing something that you both might regret later on, that's all." The boy said simply.

The Mountie smiled, but it seemed pained somehow.

"You really care about your Dad don't you." He said quietly.

"Well, he's my Dad." Noah said though he couldn't really explain his loyalty to the man. "I know he's done some terrible things and I'll admit that sometimes I don't like him very much, but that doesn't mean that I'd ever stop caring about him."

Noah smiled as wryly as he was able to around the stitches in his lip. "Besides," He said. "My Mam always used to say you can only choose your friends not your family. I mean if it had been left up to me, I probably would've picked someone more like you."

Fraser just looked at him for a long time, with the oddest expression on his face.

"Any man would be very fortunate to have you for a son Noah." He said finally.

Noah rolled over onto his back so he wouldn't have to look directly at the Mountie.

"Please don't say things like that Fraser." He whispered feeling completely unworthy of the man's praise. "Not after the way I've treated you."

The Canadian seemed genuinely puzzled at that. "The way you've treated me? I don't understand." He said slowly.

Noah propped himself up slightly to relieve the tugging sensation in the back of his throat. "The way I had you tossed out of the emergency room." He said in a trembling voice. "Just so you wouldn't see what a big coward I was."

"Oh that." Fraser said mildly, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I don't think you're a coward Noah." He said gently, though the boy still wouldn't look at him. "I think you're scared and I think you have every right to be. But, being afraid has nothing to do with how much courage a person has and from what I've seen you have plenty of that."

Noah shut his eyes tightly shaking his head, silently denying the Mountie's words.

Fraser licked his bottom lip in consternation. "Noah." He said softly. "Was it your Grandfather who told you that only cowards cry?"

The boy's eyes snapped open suddenly as if he'd been slapped. As he sat staring owl eyed at the Mountie, tears began to silently roll down his cheeks. He lifted his hand to wipe them away and Fraser stopped him, capturing Noah's hand neatly in his own.

"I'm going to tell you something." The Mountie said staring into the boy's eyes intently. "Something that I've never told anyone before."

Fraser took in a deep breath, almost as if he were gathering his resolve and slowly let it out again.

"When my Mum died, I was very angry with my Father." He began softly. "I wouldn't talk to him for weeks after it happened. I suppose I blamed him for being there and not being able to save her."

He paused for a moment and sighed heavily.

"Finally, he confronted me about it and I, I threw a tantrum. And while he was trying to calm me down, I bit him. I bit him on the hand, hard enough to draw blood. I can still see the look of shock on his face."

The Mountie cleared his throat self consciously before going on.

"The next day." He said flatly. "He packed up all my things and brought me to my Grandparents house and he left me there. I was sure that I was being punished for the way I'd acted, for being such a baby that I, I made a promise to myself that I would only act the way he wanted me to from then on. I thought that if I could just show him that I could be the kind of son he wanted me to be. That I could be strong like he was, then maybe he'd come back and take me home with him." Fraser frowned, as if he had just swallowed something very bitter. "Only, he never did."

He looked down at the floor forlornly. "But even though he never brought me back home I continued to hide my feelings, not just from him but from everyone around me, until it just became easier to bury my feelings rather than have to deal with them " Fraser's eyes fell once again on the boy. "And now I find it difficult to let anyone get close to me because of that."

He sighed; a long shuddering sigh as Noah continued to regard him with large tear filled eyes.

"My point is Noah that your Grandfather was wrong, crying doesn't make you weak it just makes you human. Everything that you're feeling right now is okay, it's natural and you don't have to hide it from me. I won't think any less of you if you don't."

The boy's eyes closed after a few moments and he leaned back against the bed wearily.

"I'm so tired." He said weakly.

And the Mountie understood that Noah didn't just mean physically, though it was obvious that he was indeed exhausted.

Fraser flashed him a sympathetic smile and was just about to once again brush the hair from Noah's eyes, when his hand abruptly stopped in mid motion. As if truly seeing the boy for the first time, the Mountie suddenly realized something. Noah had his eyes. The same penetrating green as his mother's, but Fraser's eyes all the same. And with that realization, came the painful knowledge that he had already missed so much in the boy's life. So much that he could never get back again, no matter how hard he tried.

A kind of reverse vision popped into his head in which he saw himself at the hour of Noah's birth, holding his son in his arms for the first time. All the milestones that he'd missed along the way becoming suddenly clear to him, Noah's first smile, the first words he'd spoken, his first steps. All fleeting moments that had passed without Fraser's knowledge.

He clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling and caressed Noah's cheek tenderly in the palm of his hand. Such a small white face he thought sadly. So pale and gaunt from malnutrition and neglect, the boy had been forced to endure so much because he hadn't been there.

"What?" Noah asked softly, seeing the way the Mountie was looking at him.

Fraser shook his head slightly. "Nothing." He mumbled. "Go to sleep. You'll feel much better after you've had some rest."

Noah sighed. "I already told you." He said wearily. "I'm not a very good sleeper."

The Canadian smiled wanly. "So you did." He said. "Perhaps if I told you a story that would help you fall asleep."

The boy eyed him askance for a few moments. "Oh aye, just so long as its not the one about Deirdre and Naoise." He said, his mouth quirking into a lopsided smile.

"Nee-sha" Fraser repeated. "That's what your, what Brendan called you earlier isn't it?"

Noah grimaced, nodding slightly. "It's my real name. It's from an old folktale that my Mam used to like, but I think it's stupid."

The Mountie tilted his head. "I have just one word for you." He said dryly. "Benton."

The boy smiled.

"What happened to your arm Fraser?" He asked suddenly, pointing to the Canadian's gauze wrapped arm.

Fraser shrugged, nonchalantly glancing at the bandage. "Nothing." He said casually. "I just donated some blood earlier that's all."

Noah made a face. "I did that too." He said. "Although it wasn't really my idea."

He yawned suddenly, then winced covering his mouth with his hand as if in pain.

"Ow." He moaned.

"Are you all right?" The Mountie asked concerned.

Noah nodded absently, but sighed when his eyes fell on the Canadian's face.

"My mouth hurts." He finally admitted somewhat ruefully and Fraser almost smiled.

It was a small concession, but it was the first time the boy had ever acknowledged any kind of weakness in front of him. Fraser allowed himself to hope that Noah was beginning to trust him enough to let down his guard a little.

"Lie back." The Canadian said, rising from the bed and helping Noah ease back into a more comfortable position.

The boy complied, allowing the Mountie to more-or-less tuck him in beneath the covers.

"Comfortable?" Fraser asked.

Noah shrugged noncommittal. "I suppose so." He said finally.

Fraser grabbed one of the molded plastic chairs sitting at the foot of the bed and pulled it up along side the boy. He sat down as Noah eyed him thoughtfully.

"You're not going to start smearing brown lichen on me again are yeh?" He asked, the ghost of a smile touching his swollen lips.

The Mountie chuckled. "No." He said wryly. "Now close your eyes and try to relax."

"Hypnosis then is it?"

Fraser's eyes widened in mock indignation. "Would you please?" He said seriously, though he couldn't quite keep the smile from his voice. "I am trying to tell a story here."

The boy almost grinned, rolling over onto his side to face the Mountie and closing his eyes as requested.

"I could just as easily recite from the RCMP training manual, you know." The Mountie continued. "Believe me, that thing would put anyone to sleep in under thirty seconds."

Noah opened one eye and gazed carefully at the Mountie trying hard not to smile. Truthfully, Fraser could read to him from the phone book for all it mattered. Somehow, the Canadian's very presence was enough to relax him into sleep. It was the quality of the man's voice as much as his words, the boy had decided. Something about Fraser's voice made him feel safe. And though he couldn't quite explain it, something about Fraser's voice seemed almost familiar to him as well.

"Mmm the RCMP training manual." Noah mumbled. "Chapter one: The proper care and handling of your Stetson."

The Mountie tilted his head in amusement. "Actually that's more like chapter five." He said mildly.

"Chapter two:" The boy continued, smiling now. "Shaking hands with bears."

"Only if you're interested in losing an arm." Fraser said.

"Chapter three: One hundred and one everyday uses for snow." Noah said, trying hard not to laugh.

The Mountie blinked. "Well you know, snow is incredibly versatile." He said matter-of-factly.

"Chapter four: How to teach an old wolf new tricks."

"Oh well, now you're just being plain silly."

"Chapter five: Caribou and you."

Fraser breathed a long-suffering sigh. "Fine." He said in a wounded voice. "I was going to tell you a story about your animal totem, but if you don't want to hear it that's fine with me."

Noah blinked, curiosity getting the better of him. "My what?" He asked. "My animal totem, what's that?"

The Mountie just eyed him silently with one slightly raised eyebrow until the boy broke into a charming lopsided smile.

"Mmm well." Fraser began slowly, brushing the hair from Noah's eyes. "Father Behan told me you were born at the beginning of October."

"Yes." The child said, nodding once. "October eleventh. Why?"

"Well, the Inuit believe that we are all born under the protection of an animal totem. They believe that these totems not only guide us through life, but that they're a part of us as well, sharing our strengths and weaknesses." He said softly.

Noah yawned despite being fascinated by the Mountie's words; he was never the less being lulled to sleep by the man's soft rhythmic voice.

"Your birth totem is the crow and it's a very powerful symbol." Fraser continued.

"Is it?" Noah asked, somewhat sleepily.

The Mountie nodded. "Oh yes. Crow is a very important figure throughout Inuit folklore." He said. "For one thing, it was Crow who separated day from night. Before that there was only eternal darkness in the world. And it was Crow who brought fire to the Inuit people. Brought it to them on the tip of his tail." He said touching the tip of Noah's nose playfully and making the boy grin.

"Crow told the people that he would only give his gift of fire to the worthiest one among them." Fraser said warming to his subject. "So naturally all of the young warriors of the tribe wanted it and immediately tried to take it from him.

But wily Crow was too clever to be caught so easily. He led the warriors on a thousand mile chase across barren plains and over the tops of great mountains and through deep valleys, until one by one they all began to give up and drop out, all but two.

The first warrior called out to Crow, 'Give your fire to me Crow. I will use it wisely I promise' but Crow could see into the young man's heart and he knew that the only reason he wanted Crow's gift was for his own personal glory. Then the next warrior spoke up 'Don't give your gift to him Crow, give it to me. I will use it much more wisely than he ever could." And Crow knew that the only reason this young man wanted it was because of his deep rivalry with the other. Despairing that he would never find anyone worthy of his gift, Crow left the warriors far behind and finally came to rest on the branch of an ash tree.

And while he was sitting there, he spied a young woman some miles away attending to a sick old man. Crow's heart was filled with empathy for the young woman and he said, 'come to me and take this gift of fire from my tail and it will keep you both warm, though it's very cold outside.' The young woman looked up and said, 'but I can't come to you. I can't leave my father. He's sick and he needs me.' And it was then that Crow knew that he had at last found someone worthy of his gift. For surely someone with so much compassion in her heart would use it wisely."

Fraser looked down at the boy who seemed to be sleeping peacefully and smiled, but it was a sad smile. He sat there in silence for several minutes just watching Noah sleep, while thoughts ran rampant through his head.

Over the past two days, he'd felt as if his heart were slowly being torn apart. Leaving him with a perpetual ache in his chest and paper-thin self-control. Yet when he was with Noah, it was somehow different. He was able to push his own thoughts aside and concentrate solely on the boy.

He wondered suddenly if this was what fatherhood felt like. Instinctively putting a child's needs before your own, before everything. Watching Noah sleep, Fraser knew without a doubt that he would sacrifice anything for him. He wouldn't even give it a second thought.

He wondered if that's how his own father had felt after his mum died. Perhaps Robert Fraser had recognized in himself, a fundamental inability to care for his son properly and had made the ultimate sacrifice by giving him up to those who could. Fraser watched Noah sleep, soothed by the steady rise and fall of the boy's chest, and realized that maybe he understood his father a little better, now that he was himself a father.

Understanding his father's actions could never erase the sting of them however. Fraser remembered all too well how betrayed he'd felt back then, as if his father were subtly telling him that he was no longer loved or wanted. He'd felt abandoned. Abandoned to strangers he'd barely even known. Exactly the same way Noah must be feeling, he realized suddenly.

Noah had never even met Brendan before being shipped off to Chicago to live with him. After Saoirse's death, his grandfather had crawled inside a liquor bottle, neglecting and verbally abusing him. And the man he knew as his father was an abusive monster, bent on beating him into submission.

The boy must have felt so unwanted and unloved; yet he was still able to smile. Fraser had listened to Noah joking around before and been amazed at his strength. For though Brendan may have beaten the boy to the point of physical collapse, he hadn't been able to break his spirit.

How could Noah possibly think himself a coward, the Mountie wondered in bewilderment. He was decent. He was compassionate and no one had been able to beat that out of him. He was wry and smart and courageous. Far braver than Fraser had been at his age, far braver than the Mountie was period.

The Canadian glanced at the gauze covering his arm, feeling guilty for the lie he'd told, and almost sighed. True courage wasn't tracking criminals across miles of frozen tundra, Fraser had decided. It was looking into the eyes of one small six-year-old boy and somehow telling him that everything he'd thought he'd known about his life was a lie. He closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, and slowly blew out a long shuddering breath. God, he had no idea how to tell the boy. He didn't even know where to start.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The obvious child

Ray slowly made his way down the darkened back corridor of the Canadian Consulate and quietly approached the tiny Spartan office that Fraser called his own. The door stood partially open and no light shone from beneath the doorway, but Ray raised his hand and knocked softly anyway. There was no response from within, as Ray tentatively pushed the door open, peering into the gloom and listening for any signs of life. After a moment he could just make out the Mountie sitting completely motionless behind the desk and staring at something on the desktop in front of him.

"Benny?" Ray called curiously.

The Canadian raised his head suddenly, as if only just noticing that the Detective had entered the room.

"Ray." He said in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Ray frowned stepping further into the room. "Thatcher called me." He said flatly. Actually she'd woken him from a dead sleep only moments after he'd finally managed to drift off. "She told me I needed to get down here, right away." And that was about all she'd told him.

He'd wanted to know what was so important it couldn't wait until morning and had been about to chew her out for waking him, when she'd mentioned Fraser's name. Ray had dropped the Mountie off at his apartment after the hospital had informed them that visiting hours were over, and he was genuinely surprised to learn that Fraser was no longer there. Without another word of protest he'd informed Thatcher that he was on his way.

She'd met him at the door to the Consulate then promptly left, with no further explanation as to why he'd been called there.

Fraser was studying him with a somewhat puzzled frown on his face. "I see." He said finally. "Did she tell you anything else?"

"Just that I'd find you here." He said in exasperation. "Benny, why the Hell are you sitting here, in the dark at one o'clock in the morning?" He asked sharply, before abruptly spinning on his heel and flicking on the lights.

The Mountie blinked in the sudden brilliance and shrugged. "It may be one in the morning here Ray." He said mildly. "But it's 10 Am in Belfast."

"What?" The Detective asked, his brow knitting in confusion. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Fraser fingered the large yellow envelope lying on the desk in front of him absently. "Inspector Thatcher was helping me cut through some red tape with the British Authorities." He said. "That's what I'm doing here at one in the morning."

Ray blinked. "What red tape? Benny, if you're trying to find a way for the kid to stay in Chicago I already told you there's no-"

"I already have Ray." The Mountie interrupted softly.

The Italian faltered, mouth hanging open in surprise.

Fraser sighed. "Sit down Ray." He said wearily.

Ray reluctantly took a seat opposite the Mountie's desk and sat staring at his friend in silence.

Fraser licked his bottom lip thoughtfully then looked down for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. "Do you believe in fate Ray." He asked finally, looking up.

The Detective's brow creased into a puzzled frown at the odd question, but Fraser continued watching him intently until finally he shrugged.

"You mean all that stuff about everything following some big pre-set plan?" He asked slowly. Fraser nodded slightly and Ray grimaced. "No." He said definitively. "I prefer to believe that I'm in charge of my own life thank you very much." He made a face suddenly. "Why do you ask?"

Fraser leaned back in his chair wearily, scratching his eyebrow with the back of his thumb as if deep in thought.

"Someone once told me that no matter how hard you try to escape your past, it always winds up catching up with you in the end." He said finally. The Detective eyed him in confusion for a moment until the Mountie suddenly broke into a wan smile. "I'm beginning to think that maybe she was right." He said softly.

Fraser's smile turned sadder. "There was a woman once..." He began softly.

"So you just let her go? Just like that?" Ray asked, incredulous after Fraser had finished his narrative.

Fraser nodded absently. "Just like that." He said, a far away look in his eyes.

"Well, why?" The Detective asked sharply. "I mean it's pretty obvious you were in love with her. Why didn't you try to stop her?"

The Mountie stared at him through slightly narrowed eyes for several minutes, as if he were putting serious thought to the question.

"Because, I knew she was too afraid to stay." He said finally. "And I was too afraid to ask her to." He chuckled somewhat ironically. "It's funny really. Somehow I managed to fall in love with the one person who was more afraid of a relationship than I was."

Ray had no response to that. Somehow knowing his friend's romantic history, the phrase unlucky in love just didn't seem to cover it.

"Maybe she was right." The Mountie said softly. "Maybe we weren't meant to be together."

"You don't really believe that." Ray said flatly.

"I don't know." Fraser said wearily. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what I believe anymore." He sighed. "But I mean, she was right about Victoria." He said. "She said we had unfinished business and she was right."

"Benny, I know you believe this woman had some kind of gift, but it was just a dream." Ray insisted.

"No Ray." The Mountie said gravely. "It was more than that. She saw the hold Victoria still had over me, though I couldn't even see it myself. And she knew that as long as I was still living in Victoria's shadow, she and I could never be together."

"So what are you saying?" The Detective asked a bit sharply. "That even though you were in love with her, you would've left her for Victoria if you'd had the chance?"

"I'm saying that what I felt for Victoria went beyond love Ray." Fraser said, his voice thick with self-loathing. "And it went beyond need. It was as if there was this empty space inside of me that only she could fill. And when she wasn't there, I ached for her."

And Ray suddenly realized something that had never occurred to him before; Fraser absolutely hated himself for loving Victoria. The Mountie had always considered himself to be a man of honor and yet when he'd found his soul mate, she'd turned out to be a murderer and a thief. That must have been quite a blow to Fraser's ego, made all the worse by the fact that he'd undoubtedly recognized what was happening and had still been powerless to stop it.

"And what about now?" Ray asked softly. "You don't still feel that way now do you Benny?" Though he couldn't say exactly why, the mere thought that the Mountie might still be pining away for that woman disturbed him deeply.

Fraser slowly looked up. "No" He said finally, but the Detective remained less than convinced. "Anyway, this isn't about Victoria." Fraser said, straightening in his chair as if pushing those thoughts from his head. "It's about Saoirse and it's about Noah."

Ray squinted at his friend with a sudden growing awareness. "Has this woman contacted you or something?" He asked even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"No Ray." Fraser said softly. "Saoirse is dead, she died nine months ago." He took a deep breath, held it for a moment and slowly let it go. "She was Noah's Mother." He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ray blinked not trusting his own ears at the moment. "Fraser are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow with the back of his thumb absently and nodded slightly. "Noah was born on October 11th 1991." He said softly. "Saoirse left me that May."

Ray leaned back in his chair, stunned into silence.

"Noah is my son." The Mountie said his voice a mixture of wonder and terror.

The Detective sat staring at the Mountie in silence for several minutes. But even though Ray was shocked he couldn't say that he was all that surprised. The more he rolled the idea around in his head the more it seemed to make sense. Of course, Noah was Fraser's son. And suddenly all the little things that had struck him, as odd over the last two days, seemed to make sense as well.

"Benny, are you absolutely sure about this?" He knew that Fraser wouldn't say it if he wasn't, but he had to ask anyway.

The Mountie fingered the envelope he held and nodded slightly. "I have a friend at the Department of Health who was kind enough to put a rush on some test results for me." He carefully laid the envelope out on the desk as if he no longer trusted himself with it. "It's all right there." He said, indicating the folder with his chin. "Noah and I share DNA. We even have the same blood type." The Mountie said with a wistful smile, before his face paled and he looked away.

Ray cast a concerned eye on his friend and suddenly stood up. "Hey you got anything stronger to drink around here than coffee?" He asked bluntly.

The Mountie looked up somewhat startled, but after a moment nodded once. "I believe there may be something in the kitchen." He said softly.

"Wait here." The Detective said before quickly leaving Fraser's office.

Ray rummaged around in the nearly empty kitchen cabinets until he spied a dusty half-empty bottle out of the corner of his eye. He pulled it from its perch near the top shelf and squinted at the slightly obscured label, nearly smiling at the discovery that it was in fact a bottle of Irish Whiskey. He grabbed a couple of coffee mugs from the counter by the sink and made his way back to the Mountie's office.

Fraser was of course still there and he eyed the Detective in silence as he wordlessly poured a small amount of the liquor into each mug.

"To Fatherhood." Ray said, raising his mug in salute.

The Canadian's face went completely white as he lifted the mug to his lips and knocked back the whiskey in one swift gulp.

Ray eyed his friend in silence as he took a measured sip from his own mug, grimacing slightly as the bitter liquid hit the back of his throat. Fraser shuddered, placing the empty mug on the desk with a trembling hand and sighed, slumping in his chair. He looked as if he was going to be sick, Ray thought sympathetically, though he suspected that had more to do with the Mountie's current situation than with the whiskey he'd drank. Fraser sat very still, taking several deep breaths until slowly, some of the color started returning to his face and his hands were no longer shaking.

"Better?" Ray asked gently.

Fraser nodded slowly.

"So I take it the kid doesn't know yet." Ray said flatly.

The Mountie shook his head. "He has no idea Ray." He said. "Saoirse left Brendan a few months after Noah was born. She never told him." He exhaled slowly before continuing. "Now I don't know what to tell him."

"Just tell him the truth Benny." Ray said gently. "He's your son, he'll recognize the truth when he hears it."

Fraser eyed the Detective for a moment, not quite smiling, and finally nodded. He looked down at the envelope on his desk and once again began fingering it nervously.

"I really envy you, you know." Ray said so softly, the Mountie looked up startled, as if unsure that he'd actually heard the Italian speak at all.

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" The Detective continued, a wan smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You've been given a gift Benny." He said. "I mean Noah is, he's beautiful."

Fraser nodded. "He is isn't he." He said softly. The Canadian's mouth quirked into a somewhat bemused smile after a moment. "Well, he's his Mother." He said with an ironic tilt of his head.

Ray's brow creased into an incredulous frown. "He's you Benny." He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He's part of you. Do you have any idea how amazing that is?"

He leaned back in his chair as if suddenly weary. "You know Angie and I tried for years to have kids. We came close once, but she ah, she lost it during the first trimester."

The Mountie blinked. "I never knew that Ray." He said softly. "I'm so sorry."

Ray shrugged. "Yeah well, I guess it was just one of those things that wasn't meant to be." He chuckled suddenly. "Hey, maybe I do believe in fate after all." He said, somewhat chagrined.

Fraser returned the smile briefly before dropping his gaze and scrubbing his face with his hand. "My God Ray." He murmured. "What am I doing? I don't know the first thing about raising a child." He looked up, and for the first time in Ray's memory, there seemed to be genuine fear in the Mountie's eyes.

"I mean what if I'm-" He'd been about to say a lousy Dad like his own Father, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to say the actual words. It seemed far too disrespectful somehow to have them hanging out there and then not be able to take them back.

"What if you're what." Ray said, though he already had some idea what Fraser was thinking. "What do think there's some handbook that teaches you everything there is to know about being a good Father?" He said flatly. "Well I hate to break this to you Benny, but there isn't." He leaned back, staring intently at Fraser. "Listen, I know all about lousy Dads." Ray said grimly. "I grew up with one remember and I've had enough experience to know that you could never be like that."

"But, how can you be sure?" The Mountie asked anxiously, his voice full of self-doubt.

Ray's mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. "What are you kidding me." He said bluntly, though not unkindly. "Benny, I've seen you with this kid and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that there's something special between you two. I mean you're already the best Father he's ever had and you've barely even known each other for two days."

Fraser appeared to be considering the Detective's words carefully until finally, he seemed to reach some kind of decision. Ray broke into a smile, as he saw some of the tensions begin to drain from the Canadian's body.

"You know as far as I'm concerned, there's only one requirement to being a good Dad anyway." Ray said after a moment. Fraser eyed him expectantly. "Just being there. That's all you really have to do Benny, just be there for him and everything else will work itself out."

The Mountie's jaw was trembling as he looked down and nodded slightly. Ray pretended not to notice.

"And you know it's not exactly as if you're going to be all alone you know." The Detective said warmly. "I mean once my family gets a hold of this, you'll have to beat them off with a stick. We can't even get Frannie to baby-sit for Maria half the time, but I'm sure she'd be more than happy to baby-sit for you." Ray grinned at the sudden look of horror on the Mountie's face.

"You want another drink?" He asked dryly. Fraser merely eyed the Detective with one slightly raised eyebrow until finally he broke into a wistful smile.

"Thank you Ray." The Mountie said softly.

"For what?" Ray asked, puzzled.

"For always being there."

Ray's smile turned warm. "You're welcome Benny." He said. "And you know if you ever need anything, any advice or whatever. You can always call me. Any time of the day or night and I'll be there."

Fraser abruptly looked down to hide his tear filled eyes. "I know." He whispered, nodding. "And I appreciate that Ray."

The Italian abruptly stood up. "For now though, you're coming home with me. You can crash on the couch tonight and I'll drop you off at the hospital in the morning. We can pick up Dief on the way to my place."

"That's very kind of you Ray." The Mountie began automatically. "But it's really not nec-"

"No arguments Fraser." The Detective said, cutting him off. "You look like Hell. You need a decent night's sleep for a change and you're not going to get it in that steam bath you call an apartment. Besides, if I were you I'd take the rest while I can get it. You're bound to have your share of sleepless nights from now on."

The Mountie looked up suddenly, as if that thought had never occurred to him. Ray suspected that from now on, Fraser would be thinking about a lot of things that had never occurred to him before. For one thing, Ray wondered what the Canadian's face would look like when he found out how much it cost to send a kid to college these days.

"Perhaps you're right Ray." Fraser said finally, rising to his feet.

"You bet I am Fraser, but don't worry I was only kidding about Frannie baby-sitting before."

"Were you?" The Mountie asked somewhat dubiously.

Ray grinned enigmatically. "Well maybe I was." He said wryly. "And then again, maybe I wasn't. I wouldn't worry about it though, Frannie's nothing compared to Ma. Once she finds out about this, she'll be in the kitchen for a week, cooking. Mark my words, your refrigerator will be full of Italian food by the end of the week."

Fraser just stared at his friend in silence for a moment. "Hmm, just so long as it's not Lasagna." He said finally.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Too much information

Fraser stood outside the door to Noah's room, anxiously tugging at the suddenly uncomfortably tight collar to his uniform, and perspiring heavily. It had nothing to do with the heat. For the first time in over two weeks, Chicago had greeted the day without humidity and though still warm, it was no longer oppressively so. The Mountie was nervous, plain and simple. Butterflies that felt more like bats careened through his stomach and his mouth was so dry it felt as if someone had poured a bucket of sand down his throat.

He removed his Stetson and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and adjusting the paper sack he clutched in his hand. Then with one final crack of the neck to ease some of the tension in his back, he walked into the room. He was surprised to discover that Noah already had a visitor, Father Behan was sitting by the boy's bed talking quietly with him.

Noah looked up at the Mountie's approach and smiled a charming lopsided smile, his Mother's smile. Somehow, Fraser managed to smile back over the sudden lump that formed in his throat. He was relieved to see the boy looking so much better.

Though Noah was naturally fair skinned, his face was not as pallid as it had been and his eyes were no longer red rimmed and puffy, though there were still dark smudges under them. Much of the swelling in his lip had gone down over night as well, but his cheeks were still hollow and drawn due to malnutrition.

"You look like one of the Queen's Guard." Noah said wryly and the Mountie unconsciously ran a hand down the red serge he wore to smooth out any wrinkles in the fabric.

Father Behan stood up, offering the Canadian his hand. "Benton" he said. "It's good to see you again. Noah was just telling me a story about a crow who brought fire to the Inuit on the tip of his tail." He said, his mouth quirking into a smile.

"I told Father what you said about my birth totem Fraser," The boy said indignantly. "And he thought it was funny."

"No" The Priest said turning toward the boy. "I never said it was funny, though I did laugh."

Noah eyed the Priest askance. "Generally people laugh when they find something amusing." He said mildly.

"Not in this case." Father Behan said lightly. "More like enlightening."

Noah broke into a puzzled frown. "How so?" He asked.

"Well, crows were very important to our ancestors as well." The Priest said slowly. "They were believed to be harbingers of some great change in fortune."

"What's that mean?" The boy asked curiously. "Harbingers?"

"A harbinger is like a sign or an omen." Father Behan explained.

Noah's eyes narrowed slightly, glowing mischievously. "Oh aye." He said slyly. "Is that what that tattoo on your arm is Father? A harbinger?"

Father Behan's smile turned somewhat embarrassed. "It's a warning actually." He said. "To remember to choose your friends wisely before you go drinking, or you might end up coming-to on a train platform with a pounding headache and an inexplicable tattoo of a crow in a silver circle on your forearm."

Noah grinned as the Priest chuckled softly. "And on that note." He said. "I think it's just about time I left."

"Aww, don't go Father." Noah said plaintively. "It's all right if Father stays, isn't it Fraser?"

Father Behan turned a mild eye on the Mountie and even though Fraser smiled politely nodding his consent, the priest could tell that he really wanted to be left alone with the boy. Judging by the look in Fraser's eye, it was clear that something had changed, though what it was the Priest couldn't say. He sincerely hoped that the Mountie had discovered a way for the boy to remain in Chicago and he offered up a silent prayer for the thought even as he nodded his understanding of Fraser's silent request.

"No really." He said finally as Fraser flashed him a grateful smile. "I must be getting back." He sighed then, a little sadly and caressed Noah's cheek for a moment. "Just remember wee Naoise." He said softly. "Giorra cabhair De na an doras."

The boy gave a tentative smile. "I will Father." He said fingering a thin gold chain at his throat. "And thank you."

The Priest tousled Noah's hair affectionately then shook the Mountie's hand once more before finally leaving.

Fraser watched him go thoughtfully. "What was that he said to you?" He asked at last, turning toward the boy.

Noah smiled somewhat wanly. "God's help in nearer than the door." He said softly. "It's just Father's way of reminding me that I can call him if I ever need to talk."

The Mountie nodded slightly then sat down in the chair that the Priest had just vacated.

Fraser sat in rigid silence while Noah eyed him thoughtfully. The boy could tell the Mountie had something on his mind, but whatever it was, he seemed reluctant to talk about it.

"It's kind of funny isn't it." Noah said finally, after several minutes had passed in silence.

"What is?" Fraser asked, looking up suddenly as if he'd been jarred from some deep memory.

"What Father Behan said about a crow being the sign for a change in fortune." Noah said carefully. "I mean, I was just thinking that if Russell had never seen that tattoo on Father's arm, then you and I probably never would have met, Fraser."

The Mountie had the strangest look on his face as the boy suddenly dropped his gaze self-consciously. "So, what's in the bag." He asked finally if a bit hesitantly.

Fraser looked down as if just remembering that he was even holding it. "I brought you something." He said softly. "Well, two things actually."

He reached into the bag and withdrew a thermos, which he placed on the tray table next to Noah's bed. Then, reaching into the bag a second time, the Mountie withdrew a small flat package and handed it to the boy. Noah turned it over, eyeing the shiny blue wrapping and meticulously tied bow in silence.

"You see how it works is, you actually have to open the box to get to the gift inside." Fraser said dryly and the boy looked up, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

Noah tore into the wrapping. It was a bit awkward since his right arm was still immobilized; forcing him to become, at least temporarily left handed, so the Mountie helped him. The unwrapped package revealed a wooden hoop with thread inside woven to resemble a spider web. Fastened to the bottom of the hoop with twine was a large brown and white feather. Noah ran his finger over the taut thread inside the hoop fascinated by the intricate patterns, his face an odd mixture of confusion and captivation.

"It's a Dream Catcher." The Mountie explained. "You hang it by your bed at night and it catches your bad dreams so you can have a peaceful night's sleep."

The boy eyed the gift for a moment. "Does it work?" He asked finally and Fraser grinned.

"Well it certainly couldn't hurt." He said hanging the Dream Catcher from the metal gate on the side of the bed.

Noah returned the grin. Oddly enough he'd slept well last night. He couldn't say for sure whether it was due to Fraser's presence, or just that he'd been so tired, either way though, he felt much better.

The stomach tube had been removed from his nose early in the morning and even though it had felt worse coming out than it had going in, Noah was glad to be rid of it.

For the first time in what seemed like weeks, he'd actually found an appetite, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to eat what the nurse claimed to be chicken broth just yet. It was the wrong color for one thing and it certainly didn't smell like chicken, at least not any chicken that Noah had ever heard of.

Which reminded him. "What's in the thermos?" He asked hopefully.

"Chicken broth." The Mountie said, his face growing slightly confused at the sudden grin splitting the boy's face. "What?" He asked curiously.

"Nothing." Noah said and Fraser shrugged uncapping the thermos and pouring the hot liquid into the plastic cup that came with it. "Mrs. Vecchio made it last night when she found out you'd be off solid food for awhile. Careful, it's hot." He said, as he cautiously handed the cup to the boy.

Noah cradled the cup in his hand and breathed in the broth's aroma with a contended sigh. Now that was what chicken soup was supposed to smell like.

"Mrs. Vecchio is a nice lady." The boy said taking a cautious sip of the steaming liquid. It was delicious.

"Yes she is." The Mountie agreed softly. Ray had been absolutely right about the cooking thing. No doubt the matronly Italian was even now ensconced in the kitchen cooking feasts for the Mountie and his son. Just the thought brought a smile to Fraser's lips. He found it oddly touching that Ray and his family always seemed so willing to go out of their way for him. In many ways, the Vecchio's were actually closer to him than his own family had ever been.

His news had been cause for celebration at the Vecchio house. Mrs. Vecchio had burst into tears when he'd told the family. Then she'd said a lot of things in Italian which he hadn't understood but had assumed were congratulatory since she'd been hugging him and pinching his cheeks the entire time. Tony had been quick to offer advice on effective parenting until Maria had silenced him with a withering look and a sarcastic comment. A bottle of wine had been passed around and toasts made to the Mountie's health and good fortune and to the health of his son. Even the Savelli children had been excited, already referring to Noah as their newest cousin.

Francesca though, had been oddly subdued saying little and smiling even less. And oddly enough, Fraser had felt guilty about telling her.

"Thank her for me." Noah said, pulling the Mountie back to the present. "She shouldn't have gone to all the trouble. I feel bad, it seems everyone is giving me presents today."

"Oh?" Fraser asked curiously.

"Yes. Father Behan brought me this earlier." The boy said, holding up the gold medallion hanging around his neck for the Mountie to see. It was another Saint medal like the one that Saoirse had given him so long ago, only this one was dedicated to St. Christopher.

"The Patron Saint of travelers." Noah said wanly. "For the trip back to Belfast."

The Mountie shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yes, about that." He said slowly.

"It's all right Fraser." The boy said placing his hand on top of the Mountie's. "I know you did your best."

Fraser marveled at the unexpected electricity in Noah's touch, perhaps it had been absent until now due to the boy's illness. The Mountie paled suddenly as he once again had to swallow past a giant sized lump in his throat.

"What is it?" Noah asked concerned. "You look as if you've just seen a ghost."

Fraser shook his head slightly, trying to smile reassuringly and failing. "I have to tell you something." He said finally. "Only I'm not exactly sure where to start."

"Well." Noah said softly. "The beginning is usually a good place to start."

Fraser couldn't help but smile, not so much because of what Noah had said but because it sounded so much like something that he would say himself.

"The beginning" He said, mostly to himself.

Noah watched as the Mountie unbuttoned his left breast pocket and pulled what looked like a photograph from it. He eyed it in silence for a moment before wordlessly handing it to the boy.

Noah's brow creased into a puzzled frown. "I don't understand." He said finally, looking up. "You knew my Mam?"

And suddenly he knew what the Mountie wanted to tell him. He just knew, like one of those flashes of insight his Mother always used to get. He eyed Fraser in growing horror as both the photograph and the soup slipped from his suddenly numb fingers.

Noah's head began to shake in silent denial, seemingly of its own accord. "You can't" He finally managed to croak, though he was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. "You're not, you can't-"

"Noah." Fraser said reaching for him, but the boy flinched away, recoiling from the Mountie's touch.

"No! Don't touch me!" He cried and there was such a look of betrayal on his face that Fraser was momentarily stunned into silence.

Noah backed as far away from the Canadian as the IV in his arm would physically allow. He was pale and trembling and hyperventilating so badly, Fraser feared he would have to call the nurse for assistance. His eyes darted to the call button sitting on the edge of bed and the boy, following the Mountie's gaze, snatched it up and threw it across the room.

"I'm fine!" He shouted, though it was clear he was anything but.

"Son, please." Fraser implored softly. "You need to calm down."

Noah's eyes abruptly widened. "Don't call me that!" He flared angrily. "Just say what you came here to tell me."

"Tell me Fraser!" He cried, when the Mountie hesitated.

So, Fraser told him. He told him everything, how they'd first met, how they'd lived and how they'd parted. Everything about her he could remember, her smile, her laugh, her amazing eyes. He held nothing back, but he didn't mention Victoria either. He told himself it was to spare the boy's feelings.

About halfway through the Mountie's narrative, Noah managed to calm himself down. By the time Fraser stopped speaking, he was no longer trembling and gasping for breath. In fact he was sitting quite motionless, knees drawn up under his chin protectively and staring out the window in silence. A solid ten minutes passed without a word and the Mountie grew worried that the boy had decided to stop speaking to him.

Finally he spoke, still facing the window. "Well, at least now I know what planet I'm from." He said rather bitterly. "Planet Fraser."

It was as if the world was suddenly spinning faster and Noah could feel it gaining momentum. He looked down at his hand, clutching the windowsill in white knuckled fingers thinking that if he let go he might just fly off of it completely. Funny, but he couldn't even feel his fingers, almost as if his body no longer belonged to him and he was looking down at someone else's hand. A million questions swarmed in his head, but there was really only one that mattered to him. The one question he needed an answer to.

"Why didn't she tell me?" He asked, surprised by how little inflection there was in his voice.

"She was trying to protect you." The Mountie said softly. "There was someone in my life who might have tried to hurt you if she'd known about you."

"Protect me?" The boy said sharply, turning his head to regard the Mountie finally. "Yes, well we both know how well that turned out don't we." He said, indicating his injured arm.

Fraser had the decency to look ashamed and Noah suddenly wished he could take back what he'd said.

"I'm so sorry Noah." The Mountie said softly, with such a look of pain on his face that the boy actually felt sorry for him. "Please, you have to know that I would never purposely deceive you."

"Oh?" Noah said sharply as his sympathy was rapidly replaced by anger once again. "How long have you known about this Fraser?" He asked.

The Mountie's mouth instantly snapped shut, as the boy regarded him with surprisingly blue eyes. Stormy blue, to match the storm of emotions raging within him.

"I've only known for sure since this morning." Fraser whispered.

Noah's eyes narrowed slightly. "You knew before that though." He said flatly. "Didn't you." It wasn't a question.

Fraser sighed. "Yes, I suppose I did."

Noah just sat there regarding the Mountie in silence for several moments until a great weariness suddenly washed over him and he could feel his anger slowly ebbing away.

"Yeah, well, maybe I did too." He had to admit finally.

"Noah." Fraser said reaching for him once more, but the boy again shrank away from his touch.

"Can you just leave now, please." Noah said frankly. "I just want to be left alone."

The Canadian nodded once. "Understood." He mumbled then stood up to leave.

Just before he walked out the door though, he turned back. "I'll be right outside if you-" but the boy was once again staring out the window, paying no heed. "Well, I'll be right outside." He said flatly, then was gone.

No sooner was the Mountie out the door, then Noah was hopping off the bed and running for the bathroom. The IV tore from his arm, trailing blood down his wrist, but he barely noticed in his haste to reach the toilet before vomiting. It was only after the sickness passed that the tears began to flow and the boy sank to his knees sobbing hollowly on the white tile floor.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sudden gift of fate

Fraser sat in the last row of the hospital's deserted chapel holding his Stetson in his hands and staring at his feet dejectedly. Well that had gone about as badly as he'd feared. The look of betrayal in Noah's eyes had felt like a physical blow and now he doubted whether the boy would ever trust him again. He didn't think he could bear it if that happened.

"Just give him some time to get used to the idea. He'll come around, you'll see."

Fraser sighed. "Hello Dad." He said without looking up. "I was wondering when you'd finally show up."

"After all" Bob Fraser's ghost went on, sitting beside his son oblivious to the younger Mountie's greeting. "You did, when you were his age."

Fraser blinked. "How would you know?" He said sharply. "You were never around long enough to find out."

"You never had a problem accepting things son." The ghost said a little sadly. "You were always like your mother in that regard. She'd just take things in stride. Nothing ever phased her."

Fraser closed his eyes as if in pain and slumped in his seat. "In that case I'm nothing like her." He said miserably. He certainly didn't feel very unphaseable at the moment.

"Did I ever tell you about the time you had Pneumonia?" Fraser Sr. asked unexpectedly

"What?" Fraser asked, shocked.

"Oh yes." Bob said nodding slightly. "You had a very high fever, 104.9 if I remember correctly. And your little chest when you breathed, seemed to be struggling so deeply to take in air, but no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't seem to get enough."

Fraser sat staring straight ahead, a far off look in his eyes. "I don't remember that." He whispered finally.

"Well, you were only a baby at the time son." The ghost explained simply.

"And well, I was beside myself. I hadn't a clue what to do. We were completely snowed in you see. There was a blizzard raging outside and no way to get you to help. But your mother." The Mountie's ghost said, breaking into a wan smile. "Your mother, now she was a completely different story. She seemed to know exactly what to do. She stayed up for three solid days, taking care of you, until your fever finally broke. And when we were finally able to dig ourselves out and get you to the hospital, she sat holding you in her arms and rocking you gently until you fell asleep."

Fraser didn't know what to say. Never before had he heard his father speak with such tenderness in his voice. Tears blurred his vision suddenly, but he did nothing to stop them as he sat transfixed by the older Mountie's words.

"It wasn't until we arrived at the hospital and the doctors assured us that you were going to be all right, that your mother suddenly disappeared. She disappeared right out of the waiting room. I turned around and poof she was gone, just like that. I looked everywhere for her. And I mean everywhere, I turned that hospital upside down as only a Mountie can." He said chuckling softly. "Finally, I found her, sitting in the parking lot, crying hysterically. It took me almost an hour to calm her down."

"By the time we got back inside, the doctors said we were allowed to see you. The second your mother walked into your room she was her old self again. She stood by your crib, rubbing your back and speaking with such calm reassurance in her voice, that you took one look at her and smiled and sighed and fell asleep. And it was then that I realized that your mother was a much stronger person than I could ever be. Because, inside she'd been just as panicked as I was and yet she'd done what she'd had to do anyway."

"Just like you always do." He said gently, turning toward his son.

Tears slowly seeped from Fraser's eyes marking silent trails down his cheeks. He barely even noticed as his father continued to speak softly.

"You're so much like her." He said, smiling wanly. "You'll get through this son and so will Noah. After all, he has Caroline in him too."

Temporarily at a loss for words, Fraser just stared at his father in silence for several minutes. Eventually he was able to find his voice. "Why didn't you ever tell me any of this before?" He whispered.

"You never had a son before." The ghost deadpanned an impish twinkle in his eye.

"Talking to yourself Fraser?" Fraser's head snapped around to find Noah standing in the aisle, regarding him curiously.

The Mountie started, turning his head and not at all surprised to find his father's ghost suddenly gone.

"Apparently." He said softly.

Noah's mouth twisted into a frown. His face was almost translucently pale as he stood staring at the Mountie with something very close to resentment clouding his sea green eyes. The boy looked ill, as if Fraser's news had affected him physically as well as emotionally and sudden guilt welled up in the Mountie for all that he'd put the child through.

He'd been about to say something apologetic, when his eyes fell on the blood staining Noah's arm.

"Noah, what have you done?!" The Mountie cried, fearing that the boy had done himself some intentional harm.

Fraser wouldn't have thought it possible, but Noah's face actually paled further as he practically jumped out of his skin and quickly backed away, eyes wide in fear.

Fraser felt like kicking himself. "I'm sorry." He said quickly, holding up his hands for the boy to see. "I didn't mean to startle you Noah."

Noah seemed to relax slightly, but stayed where he was eyeing the Canadian from clear across the room.

"I just meant that you're hurt." Fraser continued softly. "Your arm is bleeding. I'm sorry I raised my voice, but I was worried about you."

Noah's eyes strayed to his arm, staring at the dried blood coating it and shrugged slightly.

"I must have ripped the needle out I guess." He said slowly.

"I see." Fraser said gently, holding out his hand. "May I see?"

The boy eyed the Mountie's arm as if it might suddenly grow teeth and bite him. Fraser almost sighed. Somehow he needed to convince Noah that he was still the exact same person he'd been yesterday. Only, he really wasn't, was he the Mountie thought gloomily. Yesterday he'd just been plain Fraser, but today he was Dad and apparently that word came with more baggage than Noah was prepared to deal with at the moment.

"I'm not him Noah." Fraser said softly as the boy's head suddenly snapped up as if he'd been slapped. "I would never hurt you. You have my word on that."

"And Mounties always keep their word I suppose." Noah said slowly, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

Fraser almost smiled. "Well, I can't speak for all of them," He said gently. "But I always try to yes."

A single tear escaped Noah's eye and he swiped at it angrily with the back of his hand. It seemed a decision needed to be made he thought anxiously, as he eyed the Mountie's outstretched arm. More than anything he wanted to trust the man and yet he knew in his heart that sooner or later Fraser would turn on him. Just like his Granddad had and just like-

"My Dad-" He began in a trembling voice and faltered suddenly, not knowing how to refer to the Irish man any longer. Finally he just shook his head and went on. "He, he was right you know. My Granddad really did hate me."

The Mountie shook his head. "No he didn't." He said gently.

But Noah only nodded. "He did." The boy said emphatically. "He hated me for being too much like her. And not enough."

Fraser sighed; pain clearly etched on his face and the boy suddenly felt sorry for him. "He hated himself Noah." The Mountie said sadly. "Because he couldn't tell her how much she'd meant to him when she was alive." More tears gathered in the boy's eyes. This time he didn't even try to stop them as they slowly rolled down his cheeks.

"And because he couldn't tell you either." The Canadian continued softly.

Noah sniffled as he took a tentative step toward the Mountie. His Granddad had always been such a hard man. So stoic and unyielding like a General in the army. And yet, put a violin in his hands and he could make it sing like a living thing. Noah remembered how the old man's face would literally transform as he played. Almost as if the only way he could express his feelings at all was through the music. Maybe Fraser was right. Maybe he'd been full of regret and unable to show it. After all, Noah's Mam had even told him once that his Granddad couldn't have been as unfeeling as he appeared or he wouldn't have been such a fine musician.

And of course, he'd believed her. He'd believed everything she'd ever told him, only to find out that so much of it had been a lie. She'd lied to him about his Father and now he didn't know what else she might have lied to him about as well. God, he was so angry with her he could practically taste it and yet he still felt her absence cutting through him like a knife. Anger and grief warred within him making him feel as if he were being torn in two.

And he was angry with Fraser as well, though he knew he really had no reason to be. Mostly he was just upset with him for not knowing back then. His Mam had been almost four months along by the time she'd left the Mountie and yet somehow he'd failed to notice. Even so, Noah knew that Fraser was not entirely to blame, apparently his Mam had been very good at keeping secrets.

Still, that didn't stop him from wanting to yell 'Where were you five years ago?!' at him. Instead he merely held out his arm for the Mountie to examine, while he continued to sniffle softly.

Fraser didn't say anything, as he gently probed the gash in the boy's arm, though Noah kept an eye on him the entire time, alert for any sudden movements.

"You were crying when I came in." The boy said suddenly, wincing slightly as the Mountie brushed a particularly tender spot.

Fraser nodded. "Yes I suppose I was." He said absently, as he produced a handkerchief from his right breast pocket and began binding Noah's wound with it.

"You cry?" Noah asked, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

The Mountie looked up then and regarded the boy with a steady gaze. "I have been known to." He said almost to himself. "On occasion."

Noah stood staring at Fraser, long after the Canadian had finished wrapping his arm, as if deep in thought.

"I'm so scared." He said finally, his voice a frightened whisper.

"I know you are." Fraser said gently. "I am too."

"Is that why you were crying?"

The Mountie nodded. "Partly." He said.

Noah closed his eyes and sighed, a long shuddering sigh. "I don't know what to believe anymore." He said wearily. His eyes opened and once again they were filled with tears. "She was the only one who ever wanted me." He said, his lower lip trembling. "But she lied to me my entire life. And if she lied to me about my- about Brendan, then maybe she lied about everything else too. Even about loving me." He finished, dissolving into tears.

"It was because she loved you so much that she lied to you." Fraser said kindly. "She believed it was the only way to protect you."

Noah sniffled mightily. "So you said before." He said between sobs.

He managed to get himself more or less under control after a few minutes, though he couldn't look at Fraser's pained face any longer. His eyes strayed to the crucifix above the church altar and his thoughts turned to Father Behan. He fingered the St. Christopher medal at his throat, wondering what the odds were that he'd come to Chicago and meet a Mountie who would turn out to be his real Father. Probably fairly remote, he thought as his lips quirked into a fleeting smile. Even so, his Mam had, had a word for such things, serendipity she'd called it, though to him it seemed more like fate.

"So what happens now?" He said finally, still staring at the altar.

"Now." Fraser said softly. "You come and live with me."

"But only if you want to." He added hastily when the boy's head snapped around to regard him sharply.

It occurred to Noah to say that he had no place else to go, but somehow he knew that if he really didn't want to stay with the Canadian, Fraser would bend over backwards to make some other arrangement. Anyway, that didn't really matter to him. Only one thing did.

"Do you want me to?" He asked a bit hesitantly.

The Mountie looked down suddenly as if collecting himself and when he looked back up again, he was unabashedly crying, though there was an odd little smile on his lips.

"Oh, Noah." He said, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't think of anything I've ever wanted more."

The boy didn't move for a long time. He just stood there staring at Fraser, in the same way that Saoirse used to when she made him feel as if she was staring directly into his soul. Finally, Noah took a deep breath and climbed onto the bench, taking a seat beside him.

"Okay." He mumbled softly and the Mountie's smile grew wider.

Fraser didn't try to hold him or anything, he just sat there in peaceful silence and allowed Noah his own space. He looked down on the boy's dark curls, thinking of his Mother and how much he wished she could be here. But then in a way she was, he realized as his father's words came back to him. She lived on, in him and in Noah. Ray had been right, he thought suddenly, Fraser had been given a gift. A sudden gift of fate and until just this moment he hadn't realized how generous a gift it was.

"Fraser?" Noah asked curiously.

"Hmm?" The Mountie asked looking down.

"Who's the old guard in the dusty Mountie suit sitting next to yeh?"

"I am not old!" Bob Fraser cried indignantly, as the silent chapel suddenly echoed with the sound of Fraser's soft laughter.

THE END