Disclaimer: Not mine, more's the pity.

Author's Notes: Some of you may remember this from the RayK list a while back. Language "bleeped" for tender ears.

Story Notes:

A Simple Thing
by Beth Green

Benton Fraser sat calmly in the squad room, a model of perfect composure and near-tireless patience. Unfortunately, that patience was currently being severely tested. Only the self discipline learned from endless hours of guard duty permitted him to remain immobile as a crumpled wad of paper sailed within an inch of his left ear. He surreptitiously raised his left hand to block off that same ear, as it was closest in proximity to his partner Ray Kowalski's desk. He feared that any overt activity on his part would result in his becoming the focus of his partner's wrath.

Said partner was, for the time being, engaged in proving that, although his facility with multi-syllabic words was limited, his knowledge of profanity was diverse and boundless. That being so, Fraser was devoutly wishing that Ray could be a little less enthusiastic in sharing said vocabulary. Fortunately for Ray's job security, Fraser was the only one able to hear the muttered imprecations.

"Damn this bleeping blasted bleep bleep bleeping bleep!" Ray leaned back with an exasperated huff of air, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Ignoring Fraser's gentle inquiry of "Ray?", he rotated his shoulders while curling his hands into fists, reminiscent of a boxer preparing for his next round. Or, more accurately, judging from the number of crumpled papers already littering the floor, he was entering the final round of a losing battle.

Fraser tried again. "Ray."

His oblivious partner grabbed another form.

"Ray."

Ignoring the summons, he seemed to be experiencing difficulty in unfisting his hand enough to pick up a pen.

"Ray."

Giving up on the pen, he began to pound his fist on the desk.

"RAY!"

Finally acknowledging the persistent Mountie, he turned a grim gaze towards Fraser, a threatening reply of, "What?!" making it past his tightly clenched jaw.

"Well, Ray, I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be having a bit of difficulty in filling out your report. Although I was not present during the altercation, perhaps I could be of some assistance in expediting the paperwork?" Fraser's voice raised in inquiry at the end of his statement, as he did not wish Ray to feel pressured into accepting his help, even though it was obviously very much needed.

Ray sighed, studying his notebook. With seeming reluctance, he slowly shook his head. "No. Nope. Sorry. No can do."

Picking up a pen, he began again on the form. For all of five minutes, the only sound to be heard was the laborious scratching of pen on paper. Predictably, with a cry of "Bleep bleep it!", the form became another paper missile, this time directed past Fraser's right ear.

The partners watched as the paper wad impacted its neighbors, causing them to slide towards a crack in the floor. Attempting to defuse the volatile atmosphere with a bit of humor, Fraser opined, "I must say, Ray, I am impressed. With that last throw, you managed to set up a rather accurate reenactment of last night's curling match between. . ."

Before Fraser could finish his thought, Ray bounced up from the desk, eyes flashing dangerously. Leaning across the desk, supporting himself with hands clenched into fists, he snapped, "Fine! Okay! Whatever! I would love to tell you what happened today, and let you write up the bleeping report, all neat and tidy. Only it Ain't. Gonna. Work!" Erupting into motion, he began to pace agitatedly.

With growing concern, Fraser began to pace beside him. "Ray? What is it? Please tell me. What happened?"

Ray looked at him, appeared as if he were about to speak, but instead shook his head in frustration, saying, "God, I wish I could, Fraser. I just can't. I wish I could make you understand." Increasingly disturbed, he shouted, "I wish I could understand!"

Fraser's frown reflected the turmoil he felt growing within. He thought that he and Ray had managed to build a level of trust, of sharing, that he had only glimpses of with the original Ray Vecchio. But now, somehow, things had deteriorated to the point that Ray could not trust him with this. . . whatever it was. Trying not to reveal his increasing desperation, he stepped in front of Ray, forcing him to stop his frenzied pacing.

Slowly, he placed his hand lightly on a tense shoulder, as if reassuring a wild animal that threatened to bolt at the slightest touch. He made eye contact with his troubled partner. "Ray. Please. Tell me."

Gazing at his partner in wide-eyed astonishment, Ray replied, "Geez, Fraser. You're making this harder than it already is." Shrugging out from under his partner's loose grip, he stalked back to his desk. He picked up his notebook, and thrust it at Fraser. Jabbing a finger at the top of the page, he stated, "You want to know what happened? What my problem is? I'll tell you. I was stupid enough to get myself in the middle of a family fight. Two cousins from one country messing with two cousins from another country. And now, I'm supposed to write it up. I can't even say it. How the hell am I supposed to write it?!!"

As Ray spoke, Fraser struggled to decipher his notes. The frown had disappeared from his face, as a great sense of relief flowed through him.

Noticing the sudden change of mood, Ray snarled, "Don't you dare laugh. I'm warning ya , Fraser."

Unfortunately, the only result of Ray's admonition was to cause the corners of Fraser's mouth to quirk up in a definite smile. As Ray grabbed the notebook back, Fraser unsuccessfully attempted to erase the smile from his face. He was just too pleased at having discovered the source of Ray's problem.

"Ray, thank you for showing this to me. I well understand why you couldn't tell me about what happened. Although I cannot completely decipher your notes, I believe that I have understood enough that I can provide a solution to your documentation difficulties. If may borrow a pen, and paper?"

Ray gestured for Fraser to take the seat at his desk, and quickly provided the requested items. He stared intently, while Fraser diagramed as he spoke. "Now. If we refer to Ali Muhammad Jabouri as "A", and Muhanned Abdullah Jabouri as "B", and Muhammad Abdulahad as "C", and Abdullah Mohaamad as "D", you can tell me who did what to whom, and I'll assist you in completing the report."

As the partners finally began doing what they did best, working together, the report was finished in a timely manner. Ray signed his name to the completed form, throwing the pen carelessly across his desk after doing so. He slouched lower in his chair, in exhausted relief. He turned to smile affectionately at Fraser. "Thanks, Frase. I couldn'ta done it without ya."

Before Fraser could reply, Ray added threateningly, "And if you say it was as simple as A-B-C, I'll hafta hurt ya, Fraser."

Fraser answered with smile of amusement at the fact that his partner had anticipated his reply. He decided to merely nod. "Understood."

End A Simple Thing by Beth Green: bethgreen@aol.com

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