Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/callinuk

Disclaimer: Due South and all of its characters belong to Alliance Communications

Author's Notes:

Story Notes: From Ray's point of view

I always run to him.......

The first time I ran to him was when Andreas Volpe was murdered. He listened to me, believed me, was strong for me when even I doubted my own innocence. He believed that I couldn't shoot anyone because I was his friend. It was that simple for him.

And I have been running towards him ever since.

So here I am sitting in the departure lounge waiting for my flight. Running to him again. But this time, I'm kinda a mess. I'm scared of me. Scared that I will pick up my gun and shoot myself in the head to escape. Escape from the blood I keep seeing on my hands. Escape from the rivers of blood that threaten to choke me every time I close my eyes.

I shiver at the thought and sorta glance downwards hoping that my hands aren't covered in blood. But all I see is pale skin, half bitten nails and bruised fingers on one hand. That hand is half encased in a plaster cast which goes right up to my elbow. I let out a breath, sorta relieved, and half close my eyes against the sudden pain in my head. I rub my good hand over my temple trying to ease the ache.

My busted arm is throbbing real bad. And the heavy bandaging around my knee is itching, driving me crazy. I'm a mess, and I know I shouldna left the hospital, but I couldn't stand it any longer. They were all so kind and caring that I wanted to scream. And the damn doctors insisted on talking in hushed tones to Welsh and my Mum and Dad, but I could hear them. I may be damaged, but I aint stupid or deaf. Welsh wanted to call Fraser. But I didn't wanna worry him so I freaked out a little until the lieutenant promised me he wouldn't call Fraser until I said it was OK.

After two days in the hospital, I was nearly climbing the walls. The doctors didn't want me to leave; talked to me like I was a little kid. Said I needed to stay so they could keep an eye on me. But I yelled and argued, threatening to kick everyone in the head, until they finally agreed to let me go home.

I thought I would be safe locked away in my own apartment, but it was hell - my own mind played tricks on me bombarding me with memories I just wanted to forget. I ignored the telephone and the insistent banging on the apartment door. Welsh threatened to break the door down if I didn't open it so I let him in. Mum and Dad were with him looking all worried and stuff. Mum started fussing around me trying to make me eat. I just wanted to scream at all of `em to leave me alone. But instead I sat and listened all calm like. And I pulled it off - I convinced Welsh and my Mum and Dad that I was OK. That I just needed some time alone to get my head around things. They kinda forgot that I can do makebelieve.

But I was driving myself nuts as I circled the apartment like some sort of caged animal. I limped up and down until the agony in my leg made me collapse onto the couch whimpering in pain. But I couldn't cry - the tears wouldn't come. I just lay there staring up at the cracks in the ceiling wanting the pain to go away.

I couldn't sleep or eat. I needed. But didn't know what I needed. I have never felt so alone in my whole life.

After another two days, I really thought I was gonna hurt myself so I stuffed a few things into my rucksack and booked a flight to Toronto and Fraser. I aint told anyone where I'm going. Not Welsh or my Mum and Dad. I don't need them. I don't want them. I just wanna run to Fraser. I think I need him.

I am so lost in my own thoughts that I nearly don't hear the pretty stewardess call my name. Having a busted arm and dodgy leg means I get to board the plane first, along with the kids and the less abled passengers. I stifle a groan as I drag myself to my feet balancing myself on the crutch the hospital gave me. I sway slightly, and the stewardess steps forward steadying me as she takes my good arm leading me slowly towards the exit door. She's talking to me, but I don't really hear her, so I give her a false smile every now and again.

She settles me in a seat at the front of the plane so I can stretch my leg out. She helps me with the seat belt, and I smile my thanks at her as she gets me a glass of water so I can take some pain killers. Then I turn my head to look out of the small window staring distractedly at the grey tarmac and the flight technicians as they prepare the plane for take off.

I close my eyes again willing the pain killers to work. I try to let my mind drift, but it insists on replaying the events of the last week in full technicolour. Replaying the day that is making me feel so desperate. So lonely. So freaked out. So utterly helpless and miserable.

It all started so well. It was my day off - my first in ten days. I had spent an hour on the telephone talking to Fraser, and I felt kinda good and happy. Always do when I talk to him. He's in Toronto for three months on secondment, but we talk every day or two. I miss him. And I like to think that he misses me too.

I love him, and I think he loves me back. But we kinda been dancing round our feelings for six months or so. But that's OK. We're best buddies. And I'm cool with that for the moment. And I think he is too.

I was in such a good mood that I cleaned the apartment from top to bottom and did a month's worth of dirty laundry. I smile to myself - even Fraser would have been proud of the shiny surfaces. I decided I needed to stock up the empty refrigerator, having a sudden urge to cook myself a meal.

I felt so good and relaxed as I walked up and down the aisles of the nearest minimarket filling my basket with all kinds of goodies when I hear a shout.... well a scream really.

Even on my day off, my cop instincts kick in, and I leave my basket. I kinda hunker down and edge myself towards the cash desk. Peering around the tins of coffee, I see a couple of kids waving a gun at the female cashier demanding the cash from the register. The woman is screaming hysterically and I know in my gut that this is gonna be real bad. Real bad because the kids are starting to panic. I curse under my breath, silently calling myself all the names I can think of, as I suddenly remember that I left my gun behind at the apartment.

I can hear the sirens in the distance - the cashier must have hit the silent alarm before she freaked out. The kids are really panicking now and start shouting at the other people in the store to get down on the floor. As the customers huddle together in front of the canned goods, I start to slowly edge towards the door so I can get a better look. See if I can do anything to stop it turning into a hostage situation.

I peer around the shelves in time to see one of the kids shove the cashier out of the way. He starts to rifle through the register pocketing the money while his friend covers the terrified customers with an evil looking gun. He's taunting them with the gun, making them cry with terror. Bastard.

The sirens are getting louder. The kid covering the customers is shouting to his friend to hurry up. His friend is snatching packets of cigarettes and pushing them into the pockets of his coat.

I look sideways as the door opens. The bell startles the kids and they turn their attention to the young woman entering the store - she is holding the hand of a small boy, and I can hear her promising him some candy if he's good.

It all happens so fast. One of the men customers decides to be a hero and jumps to his feet shouting at the kids. He leaps at the kid covering them with the gun trying to knock him down. The kid's gun goes off as he hits the floor. The guy jumps on the kid and starts pounding him with his fists yelling at him.

All hell breaks loose as the kid behind the counter starts firing his gun randomly all over the place. The guy on top of the kid sorta slumps sideways as a stray bullet hits him in the side of the head. He's dead before he hits the ground, his blood gushing out staining the floor bright red.

The sound of hysterical screaming fills the store as the other customers rush to find some sorta cover. I leap out from my hiding place. I don't know what I'm gonna do. Just know I gotta do something. I rush the kid who is getting up from the floor, and knock him down again kicking him hard to make sure he don't get up again. I grab his gun and dive behind a stack of cans. I count to ten and stand up aiming at the other kid. I squeeze the trigger hitting him in the right shoulder as he shoots wildly at me. He squeals as the bullet hits him slamming him hard against the wall. Dropping the gun, he grabs for his now blood soaked shoulder and slips down to the floor whimpering in pain.

A sharp pain in my leg nearly takes my breath away as his bullet hits me just below my left knee. I yelp in pain as I hit the floor. Stupid jerk that I am - I put my arm out, and feel the pain lance through my wrist and up my arm as I hear the sickening sounds of my own bones snap.

The darkness threatens to surround me as I lie on the floor breathing heavily letting the pain wash over me. When I come back to my senses, I can hear the cries and whimpers of the other customers, and the screech of tyres as the patrol cars grind to a halt in the street outside.

I struggle to open my eyes and come face to with the pleading eyes of the young woman. She is half lying on her back. I can hear her breath gurgling as the blood fills her lungs. Her small son is sitting close to her crying, shaking her trying to make her get up. He is covered in her blood. "Mummy," he wails. I know I will never forget the pitiful sound of his voice. That it will haunt my dreams for a long time to come.

I drag myself up to a sitting position wincing at the pain and the effort. I stare down at the woman - her pale blue sweater is soaked bright red from gaping wounds in her throat and chest. I press my good hand to her throat trying to stop the bleeding, willing her to live. I try to press my other hand to the hole in her chest, but cry out in pain. So I just try my best gritting my teeth against the agony in my wrist and arm.

I don't hear the uniformed officers burst into the shop. I don't see them arrest the two kids and roughly drag them outside. I don't see them help the other customers out of the shop to the waiting ambulances. I can only see the young woman. I can only see her blood as it covers me and her little son. I can only watch helplessly as the light fades in her eyes and her life just slips away.

I don't really remember anything after that. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital all connected up to a drip and stuff. My arm is in a plaster cast because it's busted in two places and my left leg hurts like hell and is heavily bandaged and elevated. And everyone is tiptoeing around me like I'm some kinda breakable china doll.

I start as something brushes my arm, and I open my eyes panicked looking around myself. My head feels fuzzy and it takes me a minute to realise where I am. "I'm sorry sir," the stewardess says. "I thought you might like something to eat," her expression is apologetic.

I shake my head as my mind rights itself coming back to the present dismissing the horrific memories of the past week. The stewardess nods before moving on. I shift trying to get comfortable in the restrictive airline seat. The pain in my arm and leg is a dull ache now, and I spend the rest of the flight staring aimlessly out of the window.

I am standing outside his apartment door. I hesitate, biting at my bottom lip nervously, before raising my hand to knock on the door.

Fraser flings the door open. He was expecting me - I can tell by the worried look on his face. Somebody must have called him. His expression is one of concern and warmth at the same time. He smiles at me encouragingly before taking my bag from me and ushering me into the small living room without a word.

I feel uneasy. I know this is what I need, but now I'm here, I feel kinda stupid. I feel like a complete jerk knowing that someone called him. I brush him away from me as I lean heavily on my crutch staring at my feet. He moves forward to touch me again and I flinch away. "Don't," I mumble. "Don't touch me." I know if he touches me, I won't ever let him go. And I'm scared. Of him. Of me. Of us.

"Ray," he says kinda soft, kinda gentle. And I can feel the tears pricking at the back of my eyes for the first time in a week. "Ray," he repeats stepping forward with that determined Mountie look on his face. God I love him so much it hurts.

"It's alright Ray," he whispers. "I'm here." The words undo me completely and I can feel hot tears running down my face and I'm desperately trying to choke back the sobs that are rising up from within me.

"It's all right Ray," he repeats as he pulls me gently towards him embracing me, surrounding me with his calm, his strength. "Sshhh," he murmurs as he rubs his hand in small circular movements across my back. I vaguely hear the crutch hitting the floor as I let go of it to hold onto him.

I don't know how he did it, but I find myself sitting on his couch with his warm arms wrapped around me. I'm sobbing out all the pain, hurt and misery of the last week, as he gently continues to rub my back whispering soothing words. I bury my head in his shoulder, clinging to him with my good hand as if my life depends upon it. It does.

"You should have called me Ray," Fraser says softly. "I would have come to you straight away. I'm always here for you Ray. I thought you knew that."

"Sorry," I sorta choke out. "So sorry Fraser." I look up into his face still clinging onto him, afraid to let him go. "And .... and I do know. Sorry," I sniff.

"I know Ray," he smiles at me as his hand gently wipes away the tears that are still running down my face. "You're here now. And you're safe," he strokes his hand up my face and through my hair. "That's all that matters."

I sorta smile back at him, but I know it's all lopsided and a bit sad. He smiles back as he leans forward.

"I'll always be here for you Ray," he murmurs as he claims my lips in a tender kiss. I moan softly as I lean into the kiss - his lips feel soft and warm against mine as he kisses away the pain and the hurt.

As I lose myself in the kiss, I know this is what I need. What I want. I know that Fraser will help me forget. And I kinda think my running days are over....

THE END

Views to: callinuk@yahoo.com

End Run to Him by Callie: callinuk@yahoo.com

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