Disclaimer: Not mine, or I'd be nicer to 'em.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes: This is a parody of various fanfic cliches. It's fairly crackheaded and wrong.

The bust had gone bad, far worse than he could have anticipated. Apparently there had been some mix-up with the paperwork that allowed the Garson brothers to be released, Lt. Welsh was so angry that he was speaking in sentence fragments, and Ray had suffered both a broken arm and a concussion in the escape attempt. He was now at Ray's apartment, trying to stay awake so he could wake Ray periodically, as per the doctor's orders.

Fraser rubbed his eyes. It looked like this was going to be a long night.

"Hello, son."

Correction, it was going to be a very long night.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"I think we have some things to discuss." He paused. "You may have noticed that we've talked a lot since I've passed on."

"Well, one of us has."

"No need to be snippy, son. It's not an appealing quality. At any rate, you did notice that I was more here than your average deceased relation, didn't you?"

Fraser looked towards the bed to make sure Ray was still sleeping. "I could hardly miss you, Dad. You're not exactly shy. Why are we talking about all this now?"

His father looked pleased. "I'm glad you asked. You were always quick enough when you applied yourself."

Fraser heard a rustling and a snuffling coming from the bed. "Hey, Frase, I heard...Who is that guy?"

"What guy, Ray?"

"Uh, the only other guy in the room that's not you or me? How hard did I get hit?"

Fraser was starting to wonder if he himself had been hit in the head as well. "You can see him? Dad? What's going on?"

His father rocked back on his toes. "Now that we're all here and awake..."

"Sorta."

"Ahem. Now that we are all here, I can make my important announcement. Son, I haven't been completely frank with you." He paused and took a breath. "I, Robert Fraser, RCMP, am an alien."

Fraser blinked. "Of course you are, Dad." Ah, it was a dream. That was reassuring.

Ray looked up. "Does this mean you're not Canadian?"

His father frowned at Ray. "Never say that, son."

"Ok, Dad, so- I find this very hard to believe. My childhood, while unusual, certainly held no indication of alien abduction or other extraterrestrial influence."

Ray said, "I thought I was the one abducted by aliens."

"Oh, you were, son. You were."

"Great."

"Dad, assuming I believe you, which is quite a stretch, why are you telling us this now?"

"As I said, you were always a quick one when you put your mind to it. We were worried you might notice this time."

Fraser sighed. This was quite possibly the strangest dream he had ever had. What had he eaten earlier? Perhaps Ray had been correct when he had admonished him not to lick the warehouse floor. "Notice what, Dad?"

"Why, when this one goes missing, of course."

Ray's head snapped up. "This one what? This one Ray? As in, you guys took the real fucking Vecchio? What the fuck?"

His father beamed and bounced up on his toes. "I always knew you had potential, boy. You're real bright for a Yank."

This was getting ridiculous. "Why on Earth...or, I suppose, not on Earth per se. Although I suppose you might have a craft orbiting Earth, which, while not specifically on Earth, would certainly fall under the jurisdiction..."

"Fraser. You're babbling."

"Understood."

His father- the alien?- sat on the bed. "Son, didn't it ever seem to you that you were..." He made a completely unidentifiable hand movement.

"Faster than a speeding bullet? Smarter than your average bear?" Ray piped up.

"Exactly. Your abilities are the result of a human-alien breeding project. Very hush-hush. We took you friend Ray, the other Ray, to participate in that project." He looked down, somewhat uncomfortable. "Lately, he has been rather, shall we say, vocal about returning home, but we haven't finished the final testing. We thought we'd borrow this fellow to complete our research." He smiled encouragingly at Ray.

Ray leaped off the bed, throwing the blankets at his father in the process. "Uh-uh, no way, no fucking how. There's probing, isn't there? I heard stories. No fucking way am I letting anyone near me with a probe."

Fraser held his hand up. "Ray, that is merely an urban legend. Studies on mass delusions have shown..."

His father cleared his throat, looking rather uncomfortable. "Well. That is. The probing. It really only smarts for a second." He straightened himself. "You're a sturdy fellow. You can handle it."

Ray stood there, with one leg in his jeans, and his mouth dropped open. "Smarts? Smart this, asshole. I'm not hanging around to be probed." He struggled to get his shirt on over the cast, and started hobbling out the door.

Fraser rushed after him. "Wait, Ray, you cannot go anywhere in your injured state. That includes alien spacecraft, Dad. You're just going to find another subject."

"I'm afraid we can't son. We need the Yank."

Ray slumped against him, defeated. "Wait- does it have to be up on your ship? Can't I get probed here?" He stood up a little taller, with a slight gleam in his eye. "Can Fraser do it?"

Fraser snapped to attention. "I most certainly will not, Ray, how could you even..."

Ray turned to him, pleading. "Please, Frase, I'd rather get probed by someone I know personally. It's more, you know, special."

His father frowned. "Well, it's highly irregular. Possible, but irregular." He thought about it for another moment. "Well, as long as you follow the proper procedure, I can't see how location will be an issue."

Fraser's head was really starting to hurt. "Are there any side effects? Will Ray be permanently affected in any way?"

"Oh no, son. The only risk would be the possibility of offspring, and in that case..."

Fraser and Ray turned in unison.

"Offspring?"

End Wackiness Ensues by byob_kenobi: byobkenobi@comcast.net

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