Author's Notes: Thank you to Rhyo, Shay and Kass for beta!

Story Notes: Takes place immediately after the episode Vault.

"You see, Fraser, now this is how it's done. The criminals are inside and we are outside. Now, do you think you can remember that next time?"

"I'll try, Ray."

"Thank you. Is that a smile?"

"No. No, of course not. Of course not, although, I will admit to a certain satisfaction."

"It is a smile. Well, I'll be!"

"Be what, Ray?"

"It's an expression."

"It means nothing to me."

"Right." Ray sighed and glanced down at the passed-out Mountie lying on the steps of the bank. "So what are we supposed to do about this guy?"

"Well, I suppose we could try and revive him."

And for God's sake, Ray thought, there he was, already starting to crouch down and do who knows what to get this guy to wake up.

"Wait a minute Fraser. I got it, I got it." Ray gripped his sodden jacket, stood over the unconscious man and twisted it once - twice - three times. "There you have it," he said as the Mountie sat up, coughing and sputtering, wiping the water from his eyes and mouth. "Instant Mountie; just add water."

Slinging his jacket over his shoulder, Ray went down the steps and away from the bank and the thieves and his whining sister. Away from head-butted Mounties and bank vaults filled with five and a half feet of water. Maybe if he just kept walking and walking until night fell, everything about this entire crap-ass day would just disappear. No denied disability claims, no problem getting his money out of the bank, no computers saying he was dead. Little things like that.

The day replayed itself in Ray's mind like some sort of God-awful B grade movie, and it was only when it hit a certain spot -- one particular conversation -- that he stopped short, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"So, Benny," Ray asked, rocking back onto his heels. "What are you going to say to her?"

Fraser's eyebrows pinched together in confusion. "What will I say to whom?"

Slinging an arm around Fraser's shoulder, Ray propelled him into a slow walk down the block. "Your new boss."

"My new what?"

Ray waved his free hand in the air. "Your new whatchamacalit. Boss. Inspector. The one we decided must hate you because she put you on probation and made you change your uniform and wear that hunk of dead muskrat or otter or whatever the hell it was, on your head."

Fraser smiled. Nodded. "Ah. You're referring to Inspector Thatcher. Yes, well, I'm afraid I'll have to tell her the truth. Explain to her that while the bank was, in effect, closed, it was necessary for us to---"

"Fraser," Ray stopped walking and clapped his hands on Fraser's shoulders, looking him dead in the eye.

"Yes, Ray?"

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"Oh." Fraser nodded slowly. "Oh, I see."

And this was good. Fraser was... he was...

Fraser was just standing there, nodding his head, and Ray thought he looked like one of those fuzzy dogs people stick in the back windows of their cars that had the little heads on the springs that went up and down and up and down and...

Ray gritted his teeth, then decided there had to be a better way to get Fraser with the program, so he rolled a hand in the air, encouraging him to keep thinking and work it all out. And still Fraser stood there, nodding, staring at him with that perfectly blank expression.

"I'm sorry, Ray," he finally admitted after another thirty seconds of mindless head bobbing. "I have no idea to what you are referring."

"When are you going to talk to her, Benny?" Ray exploded, hands thrown up high into the air. "Talk! Stand up for yourself! Take the bull by the horns---"

"Really, Ray. I fail to see what, if anything, bulls and Inspector Thatcher have in common, seeing as how she is female and therefore lacking a male's..."

"---and for once in your life say 'No! I will not wear this tacky new uniform---'"

"Ahh, the uniform!" Fraser finally, finally, thank God, got it! But then: "Do you really find it tacky, Ray? Because actually I thought - well, it would take a bit of getting used to, naturally - but I thought it could possibly, in the future of course not at this very moment, but I thought it might actually be considered rather stylish."

"No, it's not stylish! There is no possible way it will ever be stylish! Trust me on this Fraser. Because, me? I know style. You see this shirt I'm wearing? Before you decided that it would look better submerged in five feet of water this was a sixty-dollar, designer Armani pullover, ok? And what about that hat? Daniel Boone meets Nanook of the North is not stylish. No, Fraser," Ray continued, shaking his head vehemently. "You have to say to her, 'I already have a uniform! And a hat! And I want to wear those! I will wear those!' Do you understand what I'm saying here?"

Fraser's eyes widened. "No, Ray. Actually, I don't."

Ray stabbed an accusatory finger right smack in the middle of Fraser's chest. "You said you would." And really, the expression on Fraser's face would almost be comical if this hadn't been pissing Ray off so much.

"You did," Ray interrupted when Fraser opened his mouth to speak. "When we were in there, gasping and treading water and two inches away from somehow drowning inside a bank, you said you would try and stick up for yourself. From now on you were going to admit that you sometimes feel unappreciated and you were going to actually do something about it. Right? Remember? Because I remember, Benny, unless it was the five and a half feet of water and the sound of imminent death in my ears making me just think I heard you say that. Which is also possible. I mean, it was kind of hard to tell - what, with my life flashing before my eyes and everything."

Fraser opened his mouth and then closed it. Then opened it and closed it again. Ray could almost watch the moral dilemmas as they passed over Benton Fraser's face. Yes, folks, Ray thought, on the one hand we do have a promise made to a friend and if at all possible one should never, ever break a promise made in the name of friendship. But on the other hand, to actually fulfill this promise one would have to possibly talk back to one's superior, which was probably against Mountie code number 316A.

And really, what the hell did Ray know? Maybe there was a Mountie code, in the Mountie book, taught on your first day of Mountie school in Mountieland. Do not ever, under any circumstances, never ever ever, question someone in a position of authority, no matter how wrong, rude or stupid that person is. It almost made sense, in a Mountie kind of way.

And then Fraser surprised the hell out of him by sucking in a deep breath and nodding his head once, sharply and decisively, in agreement. "Ray, I do believe you're correct."

"You do? I mean - you do! Of course you do!"

"Yes," Fraser nodded and turned around, briskly walking back in the direction they had just come. "And not only that, Ray, but I'm going to take your advice. Diefenbaker!"

Ray caught up to Fraser just as the wolf bounded over to them, whuffing softly. "Now don't be silly," Fraser said, looking down at Dief. "I'll just politely explain to Inspector Thatcher that while my old uniform is, of course, not in the current fashion, it is the same uniform I've worn my entire career. It is not just a uniform to me, but more a link to--- Oh, for heaven's sake, stop barking." Fraser quirked a smile at Ray and whispered to him conspiratorially, "he seems to think Inspector Thatcher will react badly to this proposed conversation."

Ray chuckled and steered them toward where Frannie was waiting impatiently in the Riv. "Ahh come on, Fraser. How bad can she be? I mean, it's not as if she's going to fire you or anything..."