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

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, but a girl can dream.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Morgan for the beta.

Story Notes:

This story is a sequel to: Mamacita

Heroes
By MR

It's late. Damn late. Three o'clock in the morning and I fuckin' can't get to sleep late. Which explains why I'm in my mostly dark living room going through my CD's, trying to find something to listen to that'll make it all make sense.

Fraser's asleep. Don't know how he does it; it's like he can lie down and 'will' himself to drop off. I envy that. Especially at times like this when I just can't make my brain shut up.

Carmen Ruiz's autopsy report came back today. Woman had enough drugs in her body to stock a street corner pharmacy. So I guess we can rule out homicide and she'll end up in the "Death by Misadventure" files. I think of them more as the "Death by Stupidity" files. And I'm sure Fraser would have something to say about the non-political correctness of 'that.'

Her sister and brother-in-law came to claim the body. They're still trying to locate her ex-husband, who apparently dropped out of the picture right before Hernando was born. Juanita (her sister) isn't real fond of the guy. She's convinced he's responsible for getting Carmen into drugs. Lord knows it wouldn't be the first time.

So Juanita and Carlos have temporary custody of Evie and her brothers and sister. They also have four kids of their own, though theirs are in their teens. It's a helluva job to undertake, but as Junita says, "Mi familia." I can understand that. When dad's sister Doris was going through her divorce, my cousins Eddy and Maria spent a whole summer living with us. You take care of your own.

"The little ones, el ninos, don't understand where Mama is." She and I were in the break room having a cup of coffee while Carlos was downstairs ID'ing the body. "They think she is sick and in the hospital."

"She sick a lot?"

Juanita nodded. "Carlos and I tried to talk to her about the drugs. So did everyone else in the family. But she got so bitter after Xavier left. Sometimes I think she didn't realize how much she was hurting the children. Other times I think she knew and was doing it deliberately."

I can still see Evie's eyes. Big and brown and way too much knowledge for someone her age. Seven-year-old girls shouldn't have to worry about anything but slumber parties and giggling with their friends and playing with Barbies. They sure's hell shouldn't have to worry about being a surrogate mother for their brothers and sister. And I've seen that look before, more times than I care to think about. It's not a look you see after a few days or a couple of weeks. It's a look that says it's been years; that the kid's never really been allowed to be a kid at all.

Juanita and Carlos are gonna try and get permanent custody. I hope they do; they're good people. Evie's seeing a child psychologist a couple times a week, Juanita says. Maybe some of the damage can be undone. She's still pretty young.

"Ray?" I look up at Fraser standing in the bedroom doorway, hair sticking out in all directions, and I can't help but smile. A rumpled Mountie is a definite turn-on.

"Sorry, Frase. Couldn't sleep. I was trying to find somethin' to listen to." Randomly, I pick a CD and slip it into the player. The opening bar of "Superman's Song" by the Crash Test Dummy's comes on. I stand up and stretch the kinks out.

He nods, smiles that crooked smile, and holds out his arms. I step into them gladly and they fold around me like a warm blanket. "Evie?"

I nod against his chest. "I can't believe her sister fuckin' thanked us, Frase. Not like we made any difference."

"I think it was more a general thank you, Ray. A thank you for caring if you will. A lot of police officers wouldn't."

"Yeah." I yawn. "Mmm. Forgotten how much I like this song."

"I've never heard it before."

"I know. Was playing on Dewey's radio during the stakeout last week. I mentioned liking it and Christopherson offered to burn me a CD."

I can feel the eyebrow going up. "Isn't that illegal, Ray?"

"Not unless they catch you. Anyway, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

He's quiet a moment. "I'm not Superman, Ray."

I pull back to look at him. "I know that, ya freak. But you're like him in the song. Just keep plugging away at what you do no matter how tired you get. Kinda like Dief on the trail of a donut. You'll keep going till there's nothing left."

"Ah, but Clark Kent didn't have you waiting for him at the end of the work day."

I smile and give him a quick kiss. "And Tarzan didn't have you." I unwrap myself unwillingly. "Time for all good Mounties and cops to go to bed."

He laughs softly as I follow him into the bedroom. I leave the CD playing. Between it and Fraser, I should be able to have good dreams.

Superman's Song - Crash Test Dummies

Tarzan wasn't a ladies' man

He'd just come along and scoop 'em up under his arm

Like that, quick as a cat in the jungle

But Clark Kent, now there was a real gent

He would not be caught sittin' around in no

Junglescape, dumb as an ape doing nothing

Superman never made any money

For saving the world from Solomon Grundy

And sometimes I despair the world will never see

Another man like him

Hey Bob, Supe had a straight job

Even though he could have smashed through any bank

In the United States, he had the strength, but he would now

Folks said his family were all dead

Their planet crumbled but Superman, he forced himself

To carry on, forget Krypton, and keep going

Superman never made any money

For saving the world from Solomon Grundy

And sometimes I despair the world will never see

Another man like him

Tarzan was king of the jungle and Lord over all the apes

But he could hardly string together four words: "I Tarzan, You Jane."

Sometimes when Supe was stopping crimes

I'll bet that he was tempted to just quit and turn his back

On man, join Tarzan in the forest

But he stayed in the city, and kept on changing clothes

In dirty old phone booths till his work was through

And nothing to do but go on home

Superman never made any money

For saving the world from Solomon Grundy

And sometimes I despair the world will never see

Another man like him

(2x)

End Heros by MR: psykaos42@yahoo.com

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