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Benton Fraser, the ever vigilant Constable of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police sat comfortably in a gold recliner with a cup of bark tea beside him. He watched the television blare out scores and plays of the current basketball game between the Chicago Bulls and the Phoenix Suns with curiosity if not interest. Sitting hunched forward on the couch, his friend and partner, Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department yelled at the screen as if the referees could hear his complaints. Fraser considered pointing out the absurdity of this practice but knew from experience that Ray needed to yell and cheer whether he attended the games in person or watched from his living room. As the third quarter closed, the game was tied 92-92. Commercials began playing in the interim.

Having little experience with television, Fraser found commercials interesting. The way advertisers often used completely unrelated objects to sell their products and the fact that the public responded to this practice was an oddity he could not reconcile. For example, polar bears and cola had great appeal though Ben watched the commercial and felt no need to drink soda. Another oddity of commercials was the use of dancing, singing or talking food. He still had problems with the small candy coated chocolates running for their lives when people wanted to snack on them. It seemed cruel but apparently these commercials helped sell candy. Ray left the room to relieve himself and retrieve a soda from the refrigerator. Ben stood up to stretch his legs just as Ray returned for the start of the last quarter.

The fourth quarter left the Phoenix Suns wishing they stayed west. Chicago annihilated them with three point shots. Ray cheered as the last basket flew through the net. The buzzer sounded.

"All right!" he said, "Good game." He finished the last of his pop. Ben took it from him, carrying the empty can and the cold tea to the kitchen. When he returned to the living room, Ray was turning the television off.

"So, you ready to go home or you wanna sleep in the guest room?" Ray asked.

"Home, if you don't mind. There's a serious snow storm coming in and I may need to walk to the consulate."

"If we get that blizzard, you're gonna be the only one at the consulate. It's been snowing most of the night as it is."

"Someone needs to be there, Ray."

"Oh, right, we wouldn't want any lost Canadians wandering through a snow storm to find an empty building, would we?"

"Of course not." Ben answered, seriously.

"It was a joke, Benny."

"I know, Ray." Ben responded with just a hint of a smile. Ray shook his head in amusement. "So would you give us a ride or would you prefer Dief and I walk home?"

"I think Dief wants to stay." Both men looked at the gray half-wolf sleeping beneath the coffee table. He whined and kicked his back feet.

"Well, he's coming home. He wouldn't be sleeping this soundly if his system weren't coming down from all that sugar you gave him."

"Leaving a plate of cookies on the coffee table is not giving him sugar. He stole the cookies while we were in the kitchen."

"Yes, I realize that, Ray, but we can't expect him to resist all temptation. He is a wolf, afterall."

"He's a rude, cookie stealing, donut pilfering, mooch of a wolf."

"Agreed." Fraser said, resigned. He bent down to tap the deaf wolf on the forehead. Diefenbaker opened his eyes lazily before he stretched and emerged from beneath the table.

"So, what'll it be, Ray?"

"What'll what be? Oh, ya mean take ya home? Yeah, I'll take you. Weather's miserable."

Ray put a gray sweatshirt over his navy sweater and took a black overcoat off the coat rack. Ben picked up his weathered leather jacket from the back of a kitchen chair and put it on. Both men wore leather gloves and blue jeans. They walked outside to find Ray's green 1971 Buick Riviera buried. Snowplows had driven by, pushing about four feet of snow up the driveway and over the trunk. Add to that, the two feet of snow that had fallen since mid-day and it was obvious, the Riv was not going anywhere for awhile. Ray swore as he stomped around his beloved car. His foot got stuck in a drift and he nearly fell over pulling it out.

Ben watched the tantrum of his slender Italian friend, trying to hide his amusement.

"Where are your snow shovels, Ray? I'll help you dig it out."

"I don't wanna dig it out, I just want it out!"

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen unless you wait until spring. And from the looks of the snow drift, I would say late spring at best."

"Shut up for a minute and let me think." Ray snapped.

"All right." Ben agreed, used to his friend's outbursts. Ray stared at his car, assessed the snow and yelled out in despair. His head fell to his chest for a moment while he pushed a hand over his nearly bald skull. When he looked up, Ben was standing rigidly watching him.

"I am not digging this car out. The city buried it; the city can retrieve it. I'm going inside to lodge a very big complaint against a very stupid snow plow driver."

Ray walked over to the front porch. He was halfway to the door when he noticed Fraser was not with him. He turned around to see the Mountie and his wolf walking down the driveway.

"Where're you going?" Ray yelled.

"We'll walk home, Ray. Thanks for having us over to watch the game. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Yer walking? Benny, you can't walk in this weather." Ben turned around with his hands tucked firmly in his pockets.

"Ray, while I lived in the Territories, I walked hundreds of miles through snow and ice on a regular basis. I can make it a few miles to home."

"Why don't you just stay here?"

"I've already told you, Ray, I have to work in the morning. I suspect you'll be quite snowed in by then and I can't be late. The Inspector has been particularly annoyed with my schedule lately. I don't wish to upset her further."

"Benny, this is a blizzard."

"It's just snow, Ray. Thanks again, good night." He waved as he walked away.

Ray watched him until the snow and dark prevented it. He walked in the house wishing his mother were home. Normally the house was full with his mother, two sisters, brother-in-law and nieces and nephews. This week, the family went to Florida for a vacation. The only people left at the house were Ray and his younger sister, Francesca. His mother would have been able to convince Fraser to stay the night.

Ben walked along, enjoying the cold night air. The weather prevented much of the usual evening traffic so he felt isolated, almost like home in the Territories. Diefenbaker clearly hated the walk. He liked riding in the backseat of the Riv with the heater on.

While the neon lights, the drone of vehicle engines, the smell of pollution tended to upset the illusion, Ben enjoyed imagining he was far north, patrolling or tracking. Sometimes his imagination was the only link he had to his previous posting. He missed it more lately than usual. Home mostly lived just outside of his daily consciousness except sometimes like today when he longed for it.

As he came upon his apartment building, he considered going around the block. He felt restless, not quite ready for bed. Diefenbaker seemed to read his mind because the wolf barked and ran up the steps to the front door. Ben grumbled at him for being stubborn but he knew it was late. The smart thing was to go home.

He stepped onto the first step sinking several inches into the snow. Diefenbaker growled. Fraser looked up to see him staring over the low cement rail. He looked over as well. Huddled near the side was a shivering bundle. Ben jumped over the rail landing neatly beside the person. Upon closer inspection, he found a young woman with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She was shivering violently. Ben lifted her to her feet easily. She didn't fight him as he pulled her close, guiding her steps as if she were a sleepy child. He considered taking her to the hospital but a quick look around showed that no taxis were running in this weather. He guided her up the stairs wishing the elevator actually worked.

Lowering her on to his bed, he wrapped blankets around her. He turned up the heat in the apartment. She was dressed in a black, cotton skirt, a thin red blouse and torn panty hose. She wore one short, black boot; the other foot was bare. Her clothes were wet and frozen. He retrieved his navy sweats from the closet and dry socks from his underwear drawer. He pulled the blankets from her grasp and found a moist, brownish stain along the edge of the sheet. Sniffing the material he identified the unmistakable tin smell of blood. He checked her carefully, finding a deep gash running down the inside of her arm from the crook to three inches above her wrist. The wound was not currently bleeding but the sleeve of her blouse was fairly caked with blood. He undressed her, replacing her wet clothes with dry ones as quickly and discreetly as possible, then he wrapped her in blankets again. Through the whole affair, she stared at him, unmoving and pliant.

He spoke to her, explaining his actions, telling her about himself, assuring her of her safety. He couldn't tell if she heard or understood. She just stared at him, her body shivering as she drew warmth inside his clothes and blankets.

Ben retrieved his first aid kit from beneath the kitchen sink. He cleaned the wound carefully. She stiffened but didn't pull away. He treated the gauze with an antiseptic ointment and wrapped her arm in a white bandage. Slowly she stopped shivering. She closed her eyes, crouching under the blankets, curling tightly into herself.

Ben walked across the hall from his apartment and knocked on the door of his neighbor, Mr. Mustafi. In addition to being a neighbor, he was Ben's telephone link to the world. Grumbling, the old man let him in. Fraser called the hospital. He spoke with a dispatcher.

"Is it a life or death emergency?" The man on the other end of the phone asked.

"I don't believe so, but..."

"It sounds like you've done all the right things. We're booked with emergencies right now and there's no way I can get an ambulance or paramedic unit out to you before morning."

"Understood. Is there anything else I should be doing?"

"No, just keep her warm. Make sure she stays hydrated. If she gets a fever, give us a call back."

"Thank you, kindly."

Fraser hung up. He thanked Mr. Mustafi and returned to his apartment.

The woman was sleeping restlessly. She made small moaning noises from the back of her throat. Ben tried to quiet her, first by trying to wake her, then by placing a firm hand over her cool forehead. Eventually, she settled, slipping into a light sleep.

Fraser stayed awake the rest of the night. He maintained a careful watch over his patient. From time to time, he felt her head and face looking for signs of a fever. None appeared though she slept fitfully.

He sat with his back against the wall, reading his father's journal. He used his kerosene lamp instead of the electric one he purchased so he could keep the light dim.

As dawn pushed through the gray Chicago sky, Ben looked out of his kitchen window to find a frozen city. Nothing moved on the street, not even snow plows. The actual snow had ceased to fall but wind and ice had left the city crippled. He filled a metal teapot with water and turned on the stove. He called to Diefenbaker who was happy to follow him outside for about ten minutes. Then the wolf ran back inside for a warmer climate. Ben checked on his patient, then he dropped a teabag into a cup and poured the boiling water over it. He turned off the pan.

Walking across the hall, he knocked on Mr. Mustafi's door. He apologized for disturbing him. The old man complained but he let him in to use the phone again. Ben dialed the consulate expecting to get Inspector Thatcher's voice mail. Instead, she answered.

"Good morning, Mam, this is Constable Fraser."

"Yes, Constable, what can I do for you?" He could hear the distraction in her voice. He pictured her sitting behind her desk, her glasses balancing at the end of her nose while she studied her computer.

"If I might say so, Mam, you are there very early this morning."

"Well, thank you for noticing, Constable, I spent the night last night. I was concerned I might not be able to get to work due to the storm. Since you're within walking distance, I assume that is not the reason you're calling." Her tone and assumption put him on alert and he immediately reverted to his official demeanor.

"No, Sir, I mean, yes, Sir, well, the thing of it is..."

"Yes, spit it out Fraser."

"I am within walking distance, but I'm calling to inform you that I won't be able to come in this morning."

"And why is that? What's Vecchio got you doing now?"

"Oh, no, Sir, it's not Detective Vecchio. It's actually somewhat complicated but suffice to say, I have a woman here and I can't leave her alone."

"Constable, that is hardly a reason..." Thatcher started to argue but irritation and jealousy gave way to despair, "oh, never mind, do what you will." She hung up. Fraser shook his head, realizing he botched the explanation completely. He considered calling her back but decided it would do no good since he was inexplicably unable to communicate with her.

He left Mr. Mustafi's, thanking him again for the use of his phone. Ben stepped in the hall to find Ray walking towards him.

"Morning, Benny."

"Good morning, Ray. I didn't expect to see you this morning."

"Yeah, well, I was feeling guilty about last night. I should've just dug the Riv out an' drove you home. I'm glad to see you made it all right."

"I did tell you I'd be fine, Ray though it's good of you to worry."

Ray frowned. "You're still in the same clothes as last night. And you haven't slept."

"Very observant, Ray. You're a fine detective." Ben kidded him. Ray rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, everybody needs a smart ass Mountie in their lives, Benny. Can ya tell me why ya haven't slept on the way in? Welsh called and warned me not to use the blizzard as an excuse to stay home. He's got somethin' he wants me t'do."

"You weren't able to drive your car in this weather were you?"

"I borrowed a 4 wheel drive from my neighbor. She's retired and doesn't use it much. The Riv is still buried."

They walked into Fraser's apartment. Ben went to the kitchen to fix a pot of coffee. Ray stood frozen, looking at the woman in his bed.

"Hey, Benny, I realize I asked you not to keep your girlfriends a secret anymore but ya coulduh warned me."

"Oh, Ray, she's not a girlfriend. I don't even know her name."

"Wha'd ya do, pick her up on the way home last night?"

"Yes." Ben answered while he scooped coffee into the percolator.

"She's not a stray cat, ya know. Ya can't keep her."

"Well, of course, I realize I can't..."

"Okay, you're a Mountie, don't you think the other Mounties will frown on this sort of thing?"

"You mean... oh, no, it's not that at all." Ray smiled at his friend's horrified expression. Teasing him was so easy.

"Then, what is it?"

"She was freezing outside the apartment building. I brought her in to warm her and then I discovered a serious knife wound on her arm so I bandaged it, put her in dry clothes and..."

"See, I was just getting to that. She is wearing one of your thermal shirts, isn't she?"

"Yes and my..."

"You stripped her and re-dressed her?"

"Ray, I had to get her out of the wet clothes in order to warm her. She was nearly frozen."

"Where're her clothes?"

"Hanging in the closet to dry." Ray opened the closet door. He was enjoying watching his friend squirm through his explanation. He saw the length of the skirt and the cut of the blouse.

"What you have here is a working girl, Benny."

"Well, I would assume she works but of course..."

"No, I mean..."

"I'm not a prostitute." Both men looked in the direction of the woman. She was sitting up with the blankets pulled to her shoulders. "I'm a police officer. My name is Jessie Douglas."

Ray closed the closet door with his foot. Fraser stepped forward holding out his hand and introducing himself and Ray. She started to reach out with her injured arm, winced and switched. Ben shook her hand firmly.

"You got any ID?" Ray asked, suspiciously. Ben looked at him, uncomfortable with his manner.

"No." She answered, miserably "my purse got stolen. That would include my badge, driver's license..."

"Your gun?"

"No, I wasn't carrying a weapon last night."

"Why not?" Ray always had a gun. All of his police friends always carried guns. Why would an officer go out, at night, in this neighborhood, unarmed?

"Ray, why don't we let Officer..."

"Detective." She corrected.

"Detective, pardon me, Detective Douglas wake up and orient herself a bit. She did have an ordeal last night."

"Do you have a, uh..." Her voice trailed off. Ben stared at her uncomprehending.

"Through there." Ray said, pointing to Fraser's half bath.

"Ah." Ben said, now understanding her question.

She looked under the covers to see what she was wearing before she climbed off the bed. Diefenbaker stood up, his hair standing stiff. He growled low in his throat.

"Diefenbaker." Fraser said, putting his hand on the deaf wolf's back to make certain he had his attention. He shook his head, "Dief, no. I'm terribly sorry." He said looking up at her. She stood frozen at the wolf's initial growl. She took a breath and nodded at the Mountie before leaving the room.

"What's with the wolf?" Ray asked.

"I don't know. Perhaps he's threatened by her. She is in my bed and clothes."

"I've never seen him get hostile towards a woman."

"Well, I'm sure it was an isolated incident." The words no more than left his mouth when Jessie reappeared and Dief growled menacingly at her.

This time Fraser knelt on the floor in front of him. He gained his attention, speaking slowly, enunciating each word as he spoke.

"Dief, no. This woman is welcome here."

"Look, I'm sorry to be presumptuous. You've done a lot for me and I appreciate it. But, since that is a wild animal and he doesn't like me, can he be in another room or something until I leave?"

"I appreciate your concern but he'll behave now." She nodded, keeping her eye on the deaf wolf as she sat down at the kitchen table to examine her bandaged arm. Ray sat across from her. Ben leaned against the wall by the stove. He could feel the cool air coming through the window behind him. Diefenbaker lied down beside the bed.

"So, Detective, are you hungry? Would you like some coffee?" Ben asked.

"I'm not hungry, but the coffee sounds good." He poured her a cup and placed it on the table in front of her.

"What district are you with?" Ray asked.

"Actually, I was just assigned. I just moved here from Richmond."

"No accent." Ray observed.

"I'm not from Virginia. I'm from upstate New York."

"So, which district?"

"You sound like a broken record."

"And you're avoiding the question. Is there a reason for that?"

"What district are you from?" She asked

"How do you know I'm a cop?"

"Oh, please, you couldn't be more obvious."

"Obvious, huh?" Ben started to intervene as the conversation grew tense, but Jessie changed her tone.

"The 27^th. I've been assigned to the 27^th District Station. My Lieutenant's name is Welch or Welsh or something like that. I don't know who my partner will be, but..." She stopped when she noticed the surprised expressions on the two men's faces.

"What?"

"Well, as it happens, Ray is also assigned to the 27^th."

"You're kidding." She said with dread.

"'Fraid so, sweetheart." Ray said.

"Detective Douglas will do, snookums." Ben did break in this time before their conversation degenerated any further.

"I must confess to some curiosity as to what happened to you last night." She shrugged, turning her attention to Fraser.

"I got mugged. Well, actually, I attempted to stop a mugging, failed miserably and ended up with this knife wound instead."

"What exactly happened?" Ray asked.

"A couple kids were holding up an old lady in the alley down the street from here. I tried to break it up and they decided to take me on instead. One of them pulled a knife. I made the classic defensive motion and got sliced. I don't think they intended it to go that far because they ran away at the sight of blood. The old lady was no where in sight so I guess she ran away too. I started getting kind of dizzy. It's all kind of blurry after that but I remember thinking I needed to get out of the cold."

"Actually, huddling near the side of the building was good thinking. The building protected you from the wind chill." Ben said.

"Must have been instinct." She said obviously surprised by her own actions.

"Well, you lost a good bit of blood. It's not surprising your memories are vague."

"I guess it's a good thing you found me."

"Yeah, it is." Ray said. He stood up, brushing wolf hair off his black sweater and black slacks. "I have to get to work. You coming, Benny?"

"No, thank you, Ray. I've already phoned the Inspector, although I don't think she was very happy with my reason for missing work."

"I'll bet she's not." Ray nodded towards Jessie knowingly. "Can I talk to you outside for a minute?"

Ben excused himself politely. He hesitated at the door, started to go through, then stopped and called Diefenbaker. Ray led the way to the end of the hall.

"You find anything strange about her?" Ray asked.

"Strange? In what way?"

"I don't know... anything. Does she seem all right to you?"

"I'm sure she's fine. Maybe a little weak, but I wouldn't be concerned."

"That's not what I mean. I mean...oh, I don't know, forget it."

"Ray, if you have some concerns..."

"Ah, forget it, Benny. Just keep an eye on her. Don't leave her alone with the silver."

"I don't believe I have any silver." The detective shook his head in frustration.

"Never mind, give me a call later. She's a cop, right? How bad can she be?"

As Fraser walked back down the hall, he reminded Diefenbaker to be polite. He opened the door to find Detective Douglas sipping her coffee and staring out the window. She turned around and smiled.

Her smile lit the corners of her mouth and wrinkled the end of her nose. Her round, brown eyes caught the overhead light with a sparkle. Slender and nearly as tall as Ben, she had to cinch the sweats tight in order to keep them over her hips. The thermal shirt that would have been snug around his chest hung loosely over her small frame. Her light brown hair was matted slightly from sleep and perspiration.

They watched each other uncomfortably. She took in his features with appreciation. His brown hair was shorn almost to military standards and showed just a touch of curl at the ends. He had blue, almost gray eyes and movie star good looks. His chest was wide and tapered to a narrow waist.

Fraser broke free first by turning around to make up the bed. Carefully tucking the corners in tightly, he could feel her eyes on him. He smoothed down the last blanket with a satisfied sigh. He turned back around when he heard water running. Jessie rinsed out her coffee cup, then squeezed some liquid soap into it. She washed the three cups and set them neatly in the dish drainer.

"So." She said when she finished.

"So, I was thinking, Detective..."

"Call me Jessie. Given our recent intimacy, detective seems a bit formal." She tugged at the shirt knowingly, then smiled when his cheeks turned pink.

"Uh, as I was saying," he said slowly, "I could walk you home if you're feeling up to it. Or we could walk to the hospital and have your arm looked at. They weren't able to dispatch anyone last night."

"Thank you, really, but you did a beautiful job on my arm and I think you've babysat me enough for one night." She leaned with her back against the counter, flexing her hand. An uncomfortable silence followed. Ben struggled with something to say but his mind refused to cooperate. He was never good at small talk, particularly with women.

"So, you're a Constable?" Jessie asked.

"Yes."

"Do you like it?"

"Being a police officer?" She nodded, "Yes, very much. Do you like being a Detective?"

"Usually. I didn't like Richmond. Too much 'good ole boy' nonsense. But, Chicago seems nice, well... except for the housing, and the weather, and the crime rate, of course, that's not good." They both laughed at that.

"How did you become assigned here?"

"I didn't want to stay in Virginia, so I put out some feelers. I heard they were looking for an additional officer at the 27^th. I put in for a transfer and two weeks later, here I am."

"Two weeks, that's very fast." She nodded agreeably.

"No point in wasting time. What about you? Why aren't you in Canada getting your man." He smiled at her joke.

"Actually, that's not the motto of the RCMP."

"I know. It's, are you ready to be impressed? It's 'Maintain the Right'."

"I am impressed."

"Cop Rule, know the countries that border you, you never know how far you'll be tracking or who you'll have to work with to get the bad guy."

"I have found that to be a rare understanding."

"My dad was a cop, he taught me a lot. But, that's a story for another day. If I don't get going, I'll fall asleep right here again and you probably aren't willing to give up your bed. I'm pretty sure the wolf isn't."

"You're still tired?"

"Exhausted. And so are you, Galahad. So, if you'll point me in the direction of my clothes, I'll be on my way."

"It's far too cold for you to wear those. You weren't wearing a coat and you only have one shoe. I'd be derelict if I let my patient go home in that condition." She looked at him closely. He was smiling.

"Can I trust you?"

"Yes." He answered seriously.

"All right, then, can I have my clothes anyway or are you planning to keep them hostage until I return yours."

He opened the closet door, took her skirt, blouse and undergarments down. He handed them to her as he explained the ruined condition of her pantyhose.

He stuffed socks into the front of his sneakers, then gave them to her to wear. Her toes crunched up against the cloth but the shoes stayed on. He gave her his blue pea coat, the fabric nearly swallowing her and put his leather jacket on.

Fraser apologized to Diefenbaker but given his earlier hostility, he left him in the apartment while he walked Jessie home.

Gray clouds filled the sky, blotting out any possibility of sun. The snow crunched beneath their feet as they walked, making tracks where no one else had dared that day. The city still felt deserted as adults stayed next to their heaters while the children played excitedly around the house, happily entertaining themselves on this unexpected school vacation. Ben nodded and spoke to a couple of merchants who opened their stores with virtually no hope of attracting business. One shoveled his walk stubbornly. The other cleaned the inside glass and waved at the Mountie.

Jessie pointed out the alley where she had been mugged. Ben hesitated, his police self wanting to search for evidence. She tugged him away. She was tired and the memory was fresh enough to be uncomfortable. She wanted to go home.

After three blocks, she was slowing down, still weak from blood loss and cold. She leaned on his arm. He liked having her close to him, depending on him, trusting him. The wind blew bitterly around them. She turned her face into his jacket, allowing him to lead.

They stopped in front of an old gray apartment with red brick trim. Jessie stepped up to the front door, entered her code in the security panel and walked in with Ben following. She pressed the up arrow beside the elevator explaining that she lived on the third floor. The building was old, probably nearly a hundred years. The walls had been recently painted white and new brown carpet filled the halls but a damp smell still permeated everything. The apartment doors were heavy oak but Ben suspected they were rotted on the inside.

"Oh, I'm an idiot." Jessie said as they stood in front of her door, "I must really be tired."

"You don't have a key, do you?" She shook her head.

"The manager does. Will you wait here? She lives on the first floor. I'll be back in a minute."

Ben wanted to offer to go for her but he knew the manager wouldn't give her key to a stranger. He stood outside her door with his hands in his pockets. At the far end of the hall was a thick, glass window. Snow had started falling again. He suspected another storm was building.

Jessie appeared when the elevator door opened. She waved the key at him, holding it in the hand of her undamaged arm. She unlocked the door. He followed her in. Boxes filled the area normally occupied by a dining room table. She had a couch but no chairs or end tables. Towards the back of the apartment he could see an unmade bed but no dressers. The white walls were bare. She went back to the bedroom, closing the door between them. He wandered inside a few steps, looking around the corner of her dining room into a small kitchen. More boxes were stacked on the cupboards. The only small appliance in view was a coffee maker, half filled with old coffee.

Jessie came out of the bedroom, wrapped in a pink, cotton robe. She handed Ben his clothes. She had pulled her brown hair back into a ponytail and Ben thought she looked about twelve years old. He had a strange feeling of knowing her at that moment. The feeling vanished when she spoke.

"I'd wash them for you but I don't have a washer and by the time I get to the laundromat, you'd think I'd stolen them." She joked.

"Thank you kindly." He said as he took them from her.

"I really appreciate everything. You probably saved my life." He looked at his shoes, embarrassed. "Do you ever make it over to the 27^th?"

"Yes, quite often, actually." He responded as he looked up. She was smiling at his embarrassment, which only caused him to blush further. "Well, I suppose I should go now so you can get some rest."

"Why don't you make a point of stopping by tomorrow? I'm not really at my best right now and I'd like to thank you properly."

"There's no need... I mean, to thank me... not to see you. I mean," He rubbed his thumb over his eyebrow nervously, "I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow. You really should have that arm looked at by a professional. And if I may suggest filing a police report on your mugging. The persons involved likely live around here and are probably easy to find. And, of course, they have your badge and identification."

"I know the procedure." She answered with a smile.

She thanked him again as she closed the door behind him. He hesitated a few moments in the hall, smiling to himself as he headed into the new snow.

Ben returned to his own apartment. He eyed his bed longingly. Not trusting himself to even sit down, he changed into his brown uniform. Diefenbaker whined apparently assuming they were taking a vacation. Still irritated over the wolf's irrational behavior towards Jessie, Fraser scolded him for being lazy.

They walked to the Consulate with the wolf mostly ignoring Fraser. He snuffled the snow and trotted around the unusually quiet streets. A few brave souls had ventured into the world in their four-wheel drive utility vehicles but the city retained its mostly deserted atmosphere. He breathed the cold air, his gloved hands hiding inside his blue overcoat and wondered if he would still be able to traverse the frozen north or if being in Chicago had softened him to true cold.

They arrived at the Consulate where Constable Turnbull stood guard, looking like a frozen blond statue on the front steps. Ben walked past him with just a nod not wanting to distract him. He headed for his office, carrying his Stetson in his hands. Diefenbaker followed along. A note was taped to the door informing him that he should report to Inspector Thatcher.

He took off his coat, set his Stetson on the hat rack and braced himself for her wrath.

Margaret Thatcher was a petite woman with dark shoulder-length hair. Attractive and slender, she looked like an easy obstacle until one looked into her face. She glared up at him, taking off her glasses and closing her laptop.

"Would you care to try and explain again why you were unable to report for duty this morning, Constable?"

"Well, yes..." He started, standing at full attention.

"Because a date that stayed too long is not a valid excuse."

"No, Sir, I was not..."

"You do understand that, don't you Fraser." A statement not a question.

"Yes, Sir, I was not on a date."

"You weren't?" She asked, sitting back trying not to feel relieved.

"No, Sir. I found a young woman half frozen near my building. She had been mugged and needed assistance. I took her to my apartment and provided some elementary first aid. She was improved this morning so I walked her home." He watched his superior's face change as he finished the story. Her expression softened and she sat forward.

"I see. I don't suppose she's Canadian?"

"No, Sir, she's a police detective, recently moved to Chicago."

"Another detective?" Thatcher hardened again, "Well, all right. I know you can't seem to keep from helping everyone you meet and it all sounds perfectly justified. Thank you for the explanation. You may return to your duties."

Fraser returned to his office. A stack of files sat on his desk. There seemed to be a constant stack of files on his desk. He supposed if he spent less time with Ray Vecchio investigating Chicago crimes, the stack might diminish but sitting at his desk was only just bearable. He longed to be outside and active.

Feeling restless, he forced himself to start on the paperwork. Gradually, reading the files and completing forms gained their own momentum. He lost himself in the activity. The ringing phone startled him back to reality and he was surprised to find his clock reading 6:10. The caller was Ray asking him if he wanted a ride home. Ben started to decline but his limbs ached with exhaustion so he accepted instead. Finishing the last couple of sentences he needed, he moved another file into the completed stack. The uncompleted stack had shrunk considerably. Carefully capping his pen, he stood and stretched. Diefenbaker stood as well, stretching his muscular body with a whine. Ben's stomach growled. He realized he hadn't eaten all day.

He put on his coat, turned off the light in his office and walked down to the Inspector's office. Her light was off. Her door was locked. Usually, she stopped in to say good night, well, actually to issue some order or reminder but he believed she was actually saying good night in her own way. He wondered if she was still annoyed with him. Pulling his coat closed around him, he decided to wait outside for Ray. Diefenbaker would be able to run around for a few minutes and the Consulate seemed suddenly too small and closed in.

They waited outside for about ten minutes before Ray pulled up in a green Isuzu Trooper. The snow had started falling again and the weather predicted another serious storm that night.

"Benny, I know yer just this side of a snowman but it's cold and snowing, what're you doin' waiting outside?"

"I hadn't walked Dief in a while, I thought you would appreciate not having to wait for him."

"Makes sense." Ray agreed. "Hey, remember, I told you Welsh wanted me to do something today? You'll never guess what."

"Do I get three chances?" Ray ignored his friend's unusual sarcasm figuring he must be cranky from not getting any sleep.

"No, I'll just tell ya. Welsh's old partner's kid was just assigned to the 27^th. Apparently, Welsh wants to keep an eye on him. Name's Dave Parker an' he's got maybe three years as a detective. The partner, Parker, Sr. asked Welsh to watch him cuz he had some trouble at his old station. Welsh assigned him to partner with Huey while Dewey's outta town, but he asked us both t' keep an eye on 'im."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Welsh wasn't specific but he said the kid's a good cop. Which he might be, but I'll tell ya, Benny, he's cocky as hell. Huey's already havin' trouble reining him in."

Jack Huey was another detective at the 27^th. He had been without a partner for several months because his previous partner was killed in a car explosion. Fraser preferred not to think about the tragedy and mess that came from that situation. Recently Huey was assigned a new partner by the name of Tom Dewey but Ben rarely saw him and knew nothing about him.

"That will make two new detectives when Jessie reports in tomorrow."

"Can't keep anything from you, Benny." Fraser barely registered the jibe.

Not usually anxious to leave Ray's company, Ben was grateful when they pulled up in front of the building. He was tired and feeling out of sorts. He thanked Ray for the ride and reminded him to drive carefully in the snow. Diefenbaker jumped out and ran about halfway down the street. He disappeared into an alley. Ben watched Ray drive away while he waited for the wolf to return.

A few minutes later, they were standing outside Fraser's apartment examining a small, wrapped box. Ben flipped the card open. Inside the message read, "Thanks for saving me, Galahad, hope this helps you get some sleep." Jessie signed it. Ben shook the box lightly as they entered the apartment. He took off his coat and fed Diefenbaker before sitting down to open the package. Inside was a small cellophane sealed box of tea bags. He read the herbal ingredients, all related to natural relaxation. With the snow falling and the apartment chilled, tea sounded good. He put some water on to boil before slipping out of his brown uniform coat and shirt. Left in his thermal shirt and brown pants, he poured the water over the tea. His stomach rumbled again so he took some leftover pizza out of the refrigerator. He was too hungry to bother warming it. He sipped the tea. At first, the bitter taste made him grimace but after a few sips, it seemed better. He munched on the pizza, finishing four slices before he felt the raging beast in his stomach subside. He finished the tea, readied himself for bed and climbed between the blankets.

Within moments, sleep followed. He woke an hour later severely nauseous. He chided himself for not heating the pizza, then for eating it at all since it was two days old. Sleep mercifully came again. His dreams were colorful and bright. The most vivid found him walking through the frozen Tundra. Caribou and wolves and bears surrounded his every step though they were shrouded in mist. He felt compelled to keep walking though a part of him wondered what pushed him forward.

In the morning, his internal clock failed to rouse him until he was nearly late for work. He forced himself out of bed though he felt unrested as if he hadn't slept at all. He padded down the hall, took a quick shower and dressed in his red serge. Adding the Stetson and his blue overcoat, he rushed out the door with Diefenbaker. They ran more than walked the distance to the Consulate.

Upon arriving, Constable Turnbull stood at attention as before. Fraser and Diefenbaker made it with maybe two minutes to spare. Ben stood inside the door catching his breath feeling unusually winded and slightly dizzy. He didn't notice Inspector Thatcher coming down the long staircase. She didn't notice him either as she studied the file in her hands. Just as she reached the bottom she looked up to see her second in command straightening up.

"Good morning, Fraser." She said, pleasantly.

"Ah, good morning, Mam." He responded, surprised to see her there.

"Sorry, did I startle you?"

"Well, let's just say I'm glad you aren't dangerous." He answered with a small smile. She smiled back before returning to her file.

By the time Thatcher reached her door, she realized Fraser did not look quite right when she saw him. She couldn't quite place what was wrong but something seemed amiss. She put the files on her desk and decided to check on him when her phone rang. She lifted it and sighed to herself when she heard the voice of Captain Chevault from Ottawa.

Chevault's call took the remainder of the morning. By lunch, she had mostly forgotten about Fraser.

The ringing phone woke him suddenly. Ben shot up out of his chair, shocked that he had been sleeping. Diefenbaker jumped up as well, then settled back down with a complaint. Ben lifted the receiver, guilt flooding him over sleeping on duty.

"Hi, it's me." Ray said.

"Hello, Ray. What can I do for you?"

"Well, nothing, you know, just checking in. I thought you were coming by today."

"Yes, well, I was planning to but..." Ben sputtered.

"You all right, Benny, you sound funny."

"No, I mean, yes, I'm fine, I'm...are you certain there's nothing you need?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Ray responded with a laugh, "you tryin' to get me to hang up?"

"No, of course not, I was just..."

"In the middle of something? Thatcher got you doing her laundry or something?"

"No, not at all, I..."

"Listen, I only have a minute. I just wanted you to know that it looks like you've been replaced."

"In what sense, Ray?" Ben sat down, holding his forehead in his hand

"They assigned Jessie Douglas to work with me. I actually have a bonified partner. A real American partner."

"That's fine, Ray." The distraction in his voice almost caused Ray to ask again if he was all right. Then he considered Fraser might not know he was kidding.

"That's just a joke, Benny. You and I'll work with her. You know that, right?"

"What? Yes, of course, I know. I'm sorry Ray I'm just not myself today. I should probably hang up and get some work done."

"Somethin' wrong?" Ray definitely did not like the sound in his friend's voice.

"No, nothing, I just didn't sleep very well last night. I'm a bit tired."

"Well, that's two days straight, maybe you should quit early. I'm workin' late on a stake out tonight so I won't be around to take ya home."

"You have Jessie? You won't be alone?"

"No, I won't be alone. Shit. Welsh is callin'. I gotta go. I'll call ya later, okay?"

Fraser hung up without answering. He stared at the untouched work on his desk. His stomach growled. He decided the best thing to do was go for a walk, eat something for lunch, then return for a late night. If he worked into the evening, he might be able to make up for the sleeping.

Francesca Vecchio straightened her cotton top so it hung two inches above her knit black slacks. In doing so, she covered her belly button. Welsh was so picky about that sort of thing. She fluffed her short black hair in front of the rest room mirror and walked into the hall. She was thinking about the new computer system being installed in the station and wondering if she could master it as well as she had the first one. Concentrating on this, she ran into the new detective in the station. He was a good looking man with bright, blond hair and dark eyes. She appreciated the way his arms and chest filled his thermal shirt. He caught her with a laugh as she stumbled into him.

"Oh, pardon me," She said, stepping back. He held her arm a little too tightly.

"That's all right, you can run into me anytime." He had just a hint of a nice southern accent.

"Well, thank you," She said, her smile turning a bit serious, "but, I don't think I'll be needing to." She tugged her arm away.

"Yer Frannie, right, Vecchio's sister."

"Yes, Detective Vecchio is my brother." She emphasized "detective".

"I'm Dave Parker, Detective." He touched two fingers to his forehead for flourish. "I've noticed you sittin' at that computer. You have a real way of hittin' those keys."

"Why thank you, Detective." She flirted a bit, not used to compliments on her technical skills. "I've noticed you too. Yer working with Huey, right?"

"Just until Tom Dewey gets back. He's off on some special training so I'm fillin' in."

"Really. For how long?" She knew the answer but wanted to make polite conversation.

"A couple months, I guess, maybe longer."

"Well, welcome aboard. I should be getting back to my desk, though. You know the lieutenant, he wants me in sight all the time."

"Dirty old man."

"Oh," She laughed, waving a finger back and forth, "no, no, not like that. Musn't start rumors, must we? I'll see you later, Detective."

"You know," he said, taking her arm again as she stepped away. "My Dad and the lieutenant used to partner. He's my Godfather. I could put in a good word for ya." Francesca frowned as she took her arm back for the second time.

"Thanks but I don't need a good word." She walked away, slightly annoyed.

Ray Vecchio leaned back in the Isuzu. He missed the Riv but didn't dare take it out in this much snow. The second blizzard socked the city in almost completely. The schools closed for the rest of the week. Thankfully, no more snow was predicted for at least a few days. The Chicago O'Hare was scheduled to re-open at 5:00 in the morning. He glanced over at Jessie Douglas. She stared intently out the front window; her eyes fixed on the back door of an old warehouse. On the other side of the building, he knew Jack Huey and Dave Parker were doing the same thing. From time to time, they contacted each other via radio just to check in.

For their first day working together, Ray found Jessie likeable and competent. She was more intense than he expected but she behaved professionally despite their encounter at Fraser's. When they met for the stakeout, she was armed with a thermos of hot coffee. He liked that.

"Hey, look at that." Jessie said, pointing just left of the door, towards the water. An obvious struggle was being played out between two men. One of the men was lurching along, being dragged forward. He was hunched over, fighting with the other man who pulled him along with little effort. The second man was tall and wide.

"This is it, Jack. You and Parker get over here now." Ray said into the radio.

"He's got a knife!" Jessie yelled as she leaped out of the car into the snow. Ray called to her uselessly as he leaped out to follow with his gun drawn. The snow was hard to get through. Each step sunk deep into drifts, slowing both of them down. Ray caught up to Jessie just as they both caught up to the assailant. In the dark and wind, the man didn't see them until they were nearly on him.

"Hold it." Jessie yelled, aiming her own weapon, "Police. Drop the knife."

"Drop this," the man yelled, shoving his hostage at Jessie. The homeless man landed on top of her, sending them both deep into a snow bank. Ray repeated Jessie's order. Their suspect stopped. He lowered the knife slowly.

"Drop it, that's right, drop it, drop it now." He said. The man lunged forward taking Ray down at the waist. He fired a harmless bullet just over the man's left shoulder before his gun skittered into the snow. Ray blocked one blow coming towards his chin, only to be struck by a second swing against his ear. His brain seemed to shake in his head, a low siren sound filling his ears. He saw the knife come up but there seemed to be several blades at once. He held up his arms, trying to block all of them. A shot exploded close by. The suspect fell face forward on top of him. He thought how stupid it was that he would suffocate like this. Asphyxiated by a dead 200 pound body builder. A moment later, the weight was lifted off him. He could feel the warmth of the man's blood mixing with the cold snow and mingling into his jacket.

"Hey, Ray, you all right? Is that your blood?"

"No, Jack, it's not mine."

"Good thing, I don't think you'd survive if it was." Jack Huey took his hand and pulled Ray to his feet.

"You all right, Vecchio?" Jessie asked, dusting snow off her jeans.

"Yeah, for being newly deaf. " He said, still fighting the ringing sound in his head.

"You're not deaf. And you're alive thanks to my temp partner here, Vecchio." Huey said.

"You shot him, Parker?" Ray asked the younger man. Parker nodded looking stunned. Ray understood his shock. "You saved my life. I know you don't want to hear a thank you right now but later we'll talk about it, okay?'

The four detectives heard sirens in the distance. An investigative team would soon arrive to start looking into their actions and taking information. Several hours of questions and reports were waiting for them. The victim, an old man with a worn face sat inside the Isuzu rubbing his hands in front of the heater.

Ray pulled into his driveway sometime after two in the morning. He wore a bandage taped to the side of his head since Welsh insisted he go to the hospital. It turned out that the wound on Jessie's arm had re-opened when she fell so they drove together. She chattered excitedly all the way to the hospital, clearly in a full adrenaline rush.

After the doctors finished with the two of them, he dropped her at her apartment. They agreed to meet back at the station at ten the next morning. She still had a wild-eyed look as she waved from the doorway.

His initial mistrust of her faded as they worked together. She performed well during the stakeout and confrontation though he thought they should have waited for Jack and Dave to come around the building. Still, she saw the knife; she feared the worst and acted on behalf of the victim. Considering that Jerome Watkins had murdered one homeless man and seriously injured three others with his hunting knife, her fears were well founded. If she seemed to like the excitement too much, it was probably just a reaction to a new job and city.

Ray drove past Fraser's building on his way home and considered dropping in. He wanted to unwind after his near death experience but he remembered his friend saying he hadn't slept the night before. He decided to go home instead and let Benny sleep.

He crept in the front door not wanting to wake the house. His head hurt so he went into the kitchen to find some ibuprofen. He poured himself a glass of milk to take with the pills and rummaged around in the refrigerator looking for something to snack. He found a plate heaped with gnoccis and two meatballs drowned in tomato sauce. He thanked his mother mentally as he put the plate in the microwave.

Five minutes later, just as he sat down to eat, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket quickly; thinking the squealing sounded much louder than usual.

"Vecchio." He said.

"Detective, this is Mr. Mustafi, you know the Mountie's neighbor." Ray felt his chest constrict.

"Yeah, Mr. Mustafi, what's wrong?"

"It's the Mountie. He's yelling very loudly in his apartment. He's been yelling for a long time and it's very disturbing."

"What kind uh yelling?"

"I don't know what kind. Loud yelling, that's what kind. He left me your number in case of emergency and I can't sleep with all this racket."

"Is it more than just him? Should you be calling 911?"

"No, it's just him. I only hear his voice."

"All right, I'm on my way."

When Ray reached Fraser's apartment, Mr. Mustafi was standing with his ear to the apartment door.

"He's gone very quiet." The old man said. Ray pushed past him, thanking him for calling and encouraging him to go back to his own home. For the first time, Ray was glad that Benny never replaced his stolen door lock.

Diefenbaker barked once at the open door, recognized Ray and whined. Ben lay on his bed, his legs drawn to his chest, his blankets lying on the floor. His face shined in the moonlight from perspiration, his clothes were damp. Ray knelt beside the bed. He touched his arm gently, then ducked when Ben struck out wildly.

"Hey, hey, it's me. Wake up, Benny, come on."

Ben opened his eyes slowly. He focused on Ray with some difficulty, pushing himself forcefully to sit up. He shivered, a chill sweeping through his body. Ray handed him the blanket beside the bed. He took it, wrapping up like a waking child.

"You all right, Benny?" Fraser nodded. He looked out the window finding it still dark. He looked at Ray curiously but didn't trust his voice yet. His friend seemed to be surrounded by a shadowy light. He thought it was strange but there was an odd comfort to the illusion. "Mr. Mustafi called me. He said you were yelling, keeping him awake." He nodded again.

"Were you having a nightmare?" He shook his head slowly.

"I'm not..." clearing his throat "I'm not sure."

"There was no one here with you. It must have been a nightmare. You don't remember anything?'

"No. Yes. I remember shadows over the snow... like home at night. Just stars and moon. The snow was nearly blinding. The stars were very bright, vivid, like I was standing next to them." He shivered again as the images came back.

"Then what?" Ben licked his lips.

"My father was there, he was alive and he was leading me somewhere. I heard a popping noise, like an old echo coming over the ice. I saw a bullet coming. Just slipping through the air in slow motion going towards him. I was screaming at him and he had time but he just stood there, not hearing me. And then when I looked past him I saw..." He looked towards the kitchen window again and pulled the blanket closer.

"It was just a nightmare, Benny."

"It was so real." He rubbed his face in his hands, exhaustion etched into his eyes.

"What did you see past your father?"

"Victoria. She was holding the gun." Just hearing him say her name made Ray shudder. There was nothing in that name except pain for both of them.

"You're just mixing up history in your head. She burned down your father's cabin, she didn't shoot him."

"I haven't dreamt of her in a long time."

"Yeah, well, things like that can sneak up on ya. How long have you been sleeping?" Ben thought about that. The evening still seemed fuzzy. He had to concentrate to remember.

"I worked late. I walked home around eight and then I read at the table for awhile."

"Your father's journal?"

"Yes. I started to feel a bit sick to my stomach so I decided to go to sleep. It must have been 9:30 or so."

"Did you eat dinner?" Ray asked.

"No, I had a late lunch and I wasn't feeling very well."

"Well, that explains the nightmare. Your mind was wrapped up in the journal, you were over tired and you were probably a little feverish."

"I suppose." Fraser said sounding unconvinced.

"Get some sleep, Benny, I'll see you in the morning."

"Thank you, Ray. I'm sorry you had to come all the way over here."

"I can stay, you know. Take you to work in the morning or call Thatcher if yer not feeling up to it."

"I appreciate it, but I'll be all right now. As you said, it was just a nightmare. I'll apologize to Mr. Mustafi in the morning." As Ray turned towards the door, Ben noticed the side of his head.

"Ray, is that a bandage?"

"Oh, Yeah," He laughed, "I got into a little fight with a suspect. It's nothing serious."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll pick you up in the morning." Ray hesitated.

Just as he opened the door allowing the dim light in the hall to shine around him, Ray said, "You know, we never talk about her, but we can. If you want to." Ben didn't dare look at him.

"Thank you, Ray." His friend nodded and disappeared behind the closed door.

In the morning, Fraser dressed in his brown uniform. He looked in the mirror thinking something was off about the outfit but he took a mental inventory and found all parts accounted for. He shook his head tiredly. Since Ray left at 3:30 he chose to stay awake the rest of the night. His normal rising time was five and he didn't see the point in trying to sleep for an hour and a half.

His mind had been filled with odd images all night. Without warning he seemed to drift into waking dreams. The images were mostly pleasant and calming, reminding him of home, but he found his lack of control over them disconcerting.

Now that it was time for work he wished he attempted the sleep. He walked downstairs to meet Ray, leaving Diefenbaker home for the day. He expected to spend another day in the box he called an office and decided the wolf had more freedom in the apartment.

He stopped at Mr. Mustafi's to apologize and thank him for calling Ray though in truth he was annoyed about it. After three years in the building, it seemed the man could knock on his door to ask him for quiet or just miss a few hours sleep. After all, Ben never disturbed anyone in the past.

Ray pulled up, still driving the Isuzu. Once Ben settled safely inside and placed his Stetson on the dash, Ray asked him how he was feeling.

"Tired. And just as happy to forget last night."

They spoke little after that. Ray recognized his friend's foul mood. Although, it was rare for Fraser to have a bad day, when he was irritable, Ray knew it was best to leave him alone.

Ben thanked him dutifully as he exited the car. He nodded at Turnbull as he entered the front door. He took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack.

"Constable." He turned to find Inspector Thatcher standing near the stairs. "Have you been off crime fighting with Vecchio again?"

"No, Sir." He answered.

"Well, your uniform is dirty and wrinkled. Quite unlike you, Fraser." He looked down at himself, now seeing what bothered him at home. The uniform was rumpled. Not like he dragged it out of the laundry but still not up to standard. "Are you all right?" She asked.

"Yes, Sir, I apologize for my appearance. I'll return home and change. I can be back in..."

"No, no, that's all right. You'll be heading home soon enough to pack."

"To pack, Sir?"

"Yes, I have a packet with some sensitive documents for Captain Chevault in Ottawa. I need them hand delivered. I've booked you on a flight that leaves in three hours. You'll return the day after tomorrow. Will you have any problem with that?"

"No, Sir." He answered standing at attention.

"I'd go myself but the ambassador from Mexico City is arriving today and I need to take him sight seeing."

"Understood."

"Can you take a cab to the airport? Turnbull will still be on guard duty and everyone else is busy."

"Yes, Sir, and where will I be staying in Ottawa?"

"The specifics are in an envelope on your desk with your tickets and some petty cash. Is there anything else you'll be needing?"

"No, I'll just turn around and walk back home now. If you'll excuse me." Thatcher frowned at him. Was that sarcasm, she wondered? It was so unlike him. She replayed the words in her head. Perhaps she was being sensitive.

Ben retrieved the envelope from his desk. Just what he wanted to do, travel for two days. He phoned Ray, leaving a message on his voice mail. He explained the sudden trip and asked him care for Dief. Then he walked home to change into his red serge, pack a bag and call a cab.

Francesca pumped her fifty cents into the vending machine. The cup fell down, the coffee poured in. She inhaled the aroma deeply. She loved the first smell of coffee in the morning.

"Good morning, Miss Vecchio." Lieutenant Harding Welsh greeted.

"And a good morning to you, Sir, can I offer you some coffee?" She responded to her boss with a smile.

"No, thank you, five cups before ten is my limit. I see your shirt is a bit longer today."

"Yes, Sir. I am taking your suggestion to look more professional."

"Very good, very good. I trust I'll be seeing you in the squad room soon."

"On my way, Sir."

She watched him leave the lunchroom dressed in brown slacks and a blue button down shirt. She noticed his tie was yellow with brown specks. 'And he questions my fashion sense,' she thought to herself.

Frannie headed for the door but was stopped when David Parker blocked her way.

"Excuse me." She said.

"You could try goin' through me."

"You don't want to test that theory."

"You could kiss me an' then I'd let ya pass."

"I could crush your manhood with one swift jolt and then you'd let me pass."

"Frannie, is that nice? I just wanna take ya out. I'm being persistent because I like you so much."

"I told you no last night. I'm telling you no this morning. I'm almost spoken for and I'd like you to stop bothering me now."

"Almost spoken for? You mean that Mountie friend uh your brother's? I hear he won't come within ten feet of you. That he barely knows yer alive."

"Excuse me?" She said, her temper rising.

"Look, we all see you flirting. We all see those tight little clothes ya like to wear. Yer puttin' out an ad and yer surprised someone's answerin' it. That Mountie's got you thinkin' no one's watching. Come on, Frannie, let me take ya out, we'll eat, we'll dance and afterward, we'll go to my place and get a real fire going. You'd like me if ya gave me a chance."

"I doubt that. Get out of my way or change sexes, what's it gonna be?" Parker stepped aside dramatically. He bowed to her as she passed.

Benton Fraser stepped off the plane in Chicago. The time in Ottawa passed with little activity. He left the documents with Chevault and essentially had the rest of the time to himself. He took the time to sleep. When he woke on Friday, he felt like himself again. A part of him would have liked to make connecting flights and visit his father's cabin but time wouldn't permit it. Besides, he hadn't completed rebuilding since the fire and he knew he'd want to stay to finish the job.

Ray stood at the gate with Diefenbaker on a leash. He waved at him, welcoming him home.

"You look better." He said.

"I feel better." Ben stooped to pet the wolf who nudged at him, appreciatively. "I see your wound is healing." Ray reached up and touched the cut where the bandage had been. He shrugged.

As they walked through the airport, Ray described working with a regular partner. He noticed Fraser looking past him. He followed his gaze. A young woman, Ray guessed she was not twenty years old yet, had an infant in her arms. The baby was red faced and screaming. The girl rocked it and stared at it and rubbed its back but the baby continued howling. She was getting more frustrated with it. She tapped its diapered bottom in a gentle spank, ordering the infant to be quiet. She looked around nervously at the other passengers. Clearly embarrassed by the crying and embarrassed that she couldn't stop it, the girl set the baby in its carrier and walked a few steps away. She never stopped looking at the infant but she seemed near tears herself.

Fraser walked over to her. He was dressed in his red serge and he carried his Stetson. He stopped and crouched beside the baby. The mother approached quickly.

"What do you want?" Fraser stood up.

"I couldn't help but notice that your baby is upset and I was wondering if I could be of some service."

"Who are you?" The mother asked.

"Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I have limited experience with infants but I have been told that I'm good with children. Now, I believe this child has an air bubble in her? his? tummy?"

"Her. Angel Marie."

"Ah, well, Angel Marie is very unhappy because her stomach hurts, may I?" He asked reaching for the baby. She nodded timidly. He put down his hat and picked up the baby cradling her in one arm. Ray stood a few feet away watching him. Ben pressed gently on her stomach.

"Ah, yes, a gas bubble. We can take care of that, can't we, little one." Turning the baby over on her stomach, he held her with one hand and rubbed her back with the other. The combined pressure only took a moment to produce results. He put her against his shoulder, rubbing her back gently and talking to the mother while the baby quieted.

"That should do it. You'll just want to burp her a bit more often while you're feeding her. She'll appreciate the extra effort. Are you travelling far?"

"California. I'm going to live with my mother. She said we can stay as long as we want and since Angel's dad is sort of a creep..." She left the rest unsaid.

"Well, I wish you all the luck. She's a fine looking baby." Fraser placed the sleeping infant in her carrier and covered her with a pink, cotton blanket. He picked up his hat, nodded to the mother and rejoined Ray.

Ray didn't comment. Fraser performed minor magic on a daily basis.

They stopped for lunch before Ben accompanied Ray to the station. Ray filled him in on the events of the last two days and Ben described his trip. Ray was surprised to hear he slept through most of his stay but he suggested Ben must have had some kind of flu and needed to sleep it off.

Ben asked how his new partner was working out and Ray just shrugged.

"She's very intense."

When they arrived at the station, they saw Jessie slam a file down on her desk. She sat back and closed her eyes. Ray and Ben stopped in front of her.

"What's the problem?" Ray asked. She opened her eyes warily, then smiled when she saw her visitors.

"Just a little fit-throwing. Welcome back, Constable."

"Thank you, kindly." He answered, nodding. "How are you finding the 27th?"

"Well, my partner's pretty green but I'm breaking him in." She kidded.

"I apologize for not stopping in sooner as I promised..." Fraser was interrupted by a harsh growl coming from the wolf. Diefenbaker sat back on his haunches looking ready to charge Jessie. Ben went down on one knee getting face to face with his furry companion. He put one hand on the wolf's chest and the other at the back of his neck holding him firmly. Both man and wolf knew that if Diefenbaker wanted to bypass him, he could, but the wolf chose to stand down.

"Look, either you need to get control of that animal or you need to keep him on a leash." Jessie said, irritably.

"That won't be necessary." Ben responded. He knew she was startled and she had good reason but he didn't like her tone when it concerned Dief.

"That wolf's got a problem with you, Jess. You been eating weak caribou in your off time or what." Ray asked.

"Yes, of course, that must be it, Ray." The Mountie said as if a light came on over his head.

"I promise you I'm not eating caribou. I don't even eat beef."

"No, of course not, but I think Ray is on to something. Perhaps you are eating something or wearing a particular perfume or hairspray or deodorant or perhaps it's your laundry soap. I'll bet he smells something on you that he doesn't like."

"Well, isn't that flattering," She responded sarcastically, "but I'm not changing my personal hygiene to make your wolf feel better."

Ben stood up with a warning glare at Dief. "Understood. I'll take him home after a short stop at the Consulate. Ray, would you be so kind as to..." He stopped short when he realized Ray had walked away. He spotted him at his own desk talking on the phone. "Ah, well," He looked at Jessie awkwardly.

"Look, I know I'm being sensitive but I've never been real comfortable with dogs. And wolves, well, they're even harder to take, especially when they're growling at you."

Ben nodded but his attention had been drawn across the room. Francesca sat quietly at her terminal typing. She hadn't spoken when he walked in which was unusual. If anything, she was normally a bit too friendly when he visited. A detective that Ben didn't recognize hovered over her while she typed on the keyboard. Her mouth was caught in a thin line across her face. She turned and looked up at him. She was facing away from Fraser so he couldn't read her lips but a moment later the man moved away. Francesca sighed, brushed her dark bangs off her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment.

"It's understandable but I assure you he is no threat." Ben responded, registering Jessie's voice though only partially paying attention. "Would you excuse me?" He walked over to Francesca. She looked up with a weak smile.

"Hi, Benton. How was Canada?"

"It was cold. Is, uh, everything all right? That man you were talking to..."

"What? Sure, you know me." She answered too quickly, waving her hand away, "He's just a new detective. I'm trying to work on this new system the department installed. So, what are you up to?"

"I'm waiting for Ray to drive me to the Consulate." He pressed further, "You would tell me if there was something wrong?"

"Yeah, of course, I mean, why wouldn't I? I'd tell you in a second. Thanks, really, but, I'm fine."

"If you're sure..." Ray walked up and put a hand on Fraser's shoulder.

"You ready, Benny? Ma just called. She wants me to pick up some cannoli for dessert and if I don't get to the baker's before the fresh ones are gone, she'll kill me. I'll see you at home, Frannie."

"Yeah, okay, Ray. Get the good ones, you know how Ma can be. See ya, Benton."

"Good afternoon, Francesca."

The trip to the Consulate yielded little. Fraser assured his superior that her documents had been hand delivered. As he left her office, she was relieved to find him looking and acting more like the man she knew.

The two men drove to the bakery where Ray purchased a dozen cannoli. He invited his friend to dinner but Ben declined the invitation. He was looking forward to a quiet night at home.

Over the next few weeks, the Canadian Mountie and the Chicago Detective saw little of each other. Thatcher assigned the Constable to watch over a Canadian diplomat named Henry Wells. The man was a raving kleptomaniac and Fraser's job was to prevent him from stealing. The difficulty lay in Wells' preferred activity of mall shopping. The man was a glutton for neon lights, overcrowded stores and food courts. He bought at least as much as he attempted to steal.

Ray and Jessie were working several cases but the most prominent was a robber who preferred liquor and convenience stores. He always wore a Cub's uniform and by all descriptions, he lacked stature. The media called him the "Short Stop". They examined his patterns and narrowed down a list of probable locations for his next robbery. Their reasons for choosing the area seemed almost random given the miniscule evidence they had but they wanted to do something before the Short Stop decided to use his baseball bat for more than a threat.

A couple of weeks after his trip to Ottawa, Fraser phoned Ray. They hadn't seen each other during that time so Ben asked him to go for dinner. Ray agreed readily. He needed a break. They decided to meet at a diner located within walking distance of the consulate.

Ray arrived half an hour late. He apologized as he sat down, blaming Jessie for detaining him. Ben was irritated at having to wait but he knew he was irritated by a lot of things lately so he decided not to make an issue of it. They ate dinner with Ray mostly talking about the Short Stop case and working with Jessie.

"She's good at the research and interviews but she can't stand to sit still. It's like having a monkey in the car. She's fidgety, noisy and generally annoying as hell. If we spend much more time on stakeout together, I think someone's gonna get shot."

"Surely it's not to that extreme, Ray."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

Ben had completed his shift at the consulate for the day. He was tired and anxious. Listening to Ray's dramatics and exaggerations was becoming more and more tedious. And Ray seemed oblivious to his audience. He was talking for the sole purpose of venting. Ben knew that the combination of their bad moods was not a good one, but Ray was unaware. In fact, he asked if Fraser would return to the station with him and look over the Short Stop file to see if his "sharp, Mountie eyes" could see something Ray and Jessie had missed. Ben agreed automatically though he was feeling edgy and would have preferred to cut the evening short.

They arrived to find Jessie arguing with Francesca. The argument stemmed from a problem Frannie was having with the new computer system. Jessie wanted the current address of a recently released felon and Francesca was only able to find his last address and that happened to be prison. Jessie insisted they must have an address on file if the man was on parole but no matter how many screens she searched, Francesca could not find it. Ray started to intervene. He wanted to keep peace between his sister and his partner. He knew Jessie was frustrated with the Short Stop case. He knew Frannie was frustrated with the new computer system. He did not expect Fraser to maneuver around him.

"Pardon me, but you have no reason to speak to Francesca in that manner."

"Oh, Frase, we're just..." Frannie began.

"No, there is no reason for rudeness. If you want information, you should be patient enough for it to be found. I'm quite certain Francesca is doing all she can."

"This really isn't any of your business." Jessie said.

"You owe her an apology."

"Fraser, this is not helping. Why don't you give Frannie a hand looking up the address." Ray said.

"No, Ray. Not until Jessie apologizes."

"Benny, you're overreacting."

"Really?" He turned on Ray. "I'm overreacting. Isn't that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?"

"Excuse me?"

"You fight it out, I have work to do." Jessie said, walking away.

"You still have not apologized." Ben called to her.

"And I'm not going to." Jessie responded. He started to follow her when Ray caught his arm. Ben glared at him as he pulled out of his grasp.

"Let it go." Ray said. "You're not upset, are you, Frannie?"

"No, I'm fine. We were just discussing. It wasn't that serious." She didn't like having her favorite Mountie this agitated even if it was on her behalf.

"You're taking her side, is that it?" Ben asked Ray.

"I'm not taking any sides, I'm just saying you're making more of this than there is."

"Fine. Do what you will." As Fraser left the squad room, the detectives and staff watched him go. Even Lieutenant Welsh stood in his doorway observing the incident.

"Shouldn't you go after him?" Frannie asked.

"No," Ray answered, knowing that Ben needed space, not conversation.

The next day Ray called the Consulate but Fraser was out. He left a message. He called several times over the next week but his friend did not call back. He decided to wait until the end of the week before checking on him in person. Whatever had the Mountie on edge, Ray didn't want to turn a small argument into something else.

Chasing after Henry Wells was futile. The man liked to steal. Even if Ben managed to keep him out of stores, the man continued to steal any item he could find, including Constable Turnbull's hat. The poor man stood guard duty at the time and could do nothing during the theft. The Inspector blamed Fraser for not watching Wells closely enough. She was partly correct.

Fraser wasn't sleeping again. Or rather, he was sleeping sporadically but his dreams were so vivid, that his mind failed to close down. He was nauseous when he ate and nauseous when he fasted. Even his days were often muddled by dreams. The images came without warning and while the experience was not unpleasant, it was inconvenient. He had to admit to himself that he was in the midst of one of these dreams when Wells stole Thatcher's miniature Eiffel Tower off her desk.

Ben managed to find all stolen items in and around Wells's suite and rental car the day before the diplomat returned to Canada. But, the return of Turnbull's hat, Diefenbaker's frisbee (a gift from Ray), Fraser's compass and Thatcher's statue did little to ease the Inspector's annoyance.

"I asked you to watch this man so this wouldn't happen. Not stake him out after the fact so you could retrieve the stolen items. I don't know where your mind is, Fraser, but I know one place where it won't be quite so necessary."

As for Ray and Jessie, they were together almost constantly staking out stores. The Short Stop seemed to always rob the market just down the street or on the next block. Both detectives were frustrated and annoyed with each other. Too many late nights in the car, too many bad fast food meals and too many near misses left them tired of each other's company and tired of the case. Their sniping at each other was starting to irritate their co-workers until finally Lieutenant Welsh admitted they needed a break. He told them to take a long weekend. "Just keep your cell phones handy in case there's another robbery." He said.

Friday was also the day after Henry Wells returned home. Fraser stood at attention outside the Consulate doors. His muscles ached from standing still. He rarely worked sentry duty anymore. For the first couple of hours the strange waking dreams had helped pass the time and he lost himself in their glow. It wasn't until the dreams faded that he started to feel stiff and dizzy. The snow shown blindingly bright under the sun filled sky. The cars streaked past him like multicolored lightning. Even the people took on an unnatural glow. Their bodies looked like elastic pull toys or perhaps like the strange clay dolls he saw on Ray's television one morning.

Inside the Consulate, Thatcher looked out the window. She watched Fraser standing completely still like a bright, red statue. And she worried. While she hated to make the call, she really did not know what else to do. She dialed his cell phone.

"Vecchio."

"Detective, this is Inspector Thatcher."

"What's wrong? Is Benny hurt?"

"No." She said, surprised by his assumption. "Settle down, Detective, Constable Fraser is fine."

"Then what do you want?" He asked rudely. Thatcher nearly hung up. She was trying to help and certainly did not need hostility from Ray Vecchio.

"If you don't wish to talk with me in a civilized manner, then we can end this conversation now."

"No. Wait. I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important." Thatcher considered if she should continue. She looked outside again and decided she had no choice.

"It's Fraser. I'm worried about him and I thought you could shed some light on his current behavior."

"What behavior is that?" Ray asked, remembering their argument at the station.

Thatcher launched into her explanation giving voice to the things that were bothering her with a vengeance. "He's distracted. He's overly tired all of the time. He looks ill, yet he insists he's fine. There are dark circles under his eyes, pronounced creasing around his mouth. In fact, I haven't actually caught him at it, but I think he may be sleeping at his desk. The past few weeks he's been working a relatively simple assignment... well, perhaps not simple, but certainly not beyond his ability and he botched it completely. He's short tempered. He actually raised his voice to Turnbull yesterday. Certainly you must have noticed some of these things." Ray shrugged from the other end of the phone.

"Well, I haven't seen him in about a week. Are you sure he wasn't just having a bad day?"

"Of course I'm certain." She responded irritated that he could not just accept her assessment.

"What I mean is, I've wanted t'yell at Turnbull a bunch uh times. Other than Benny, he's probably the most annoying man on earth. And maybe the assignment wasn't as easy as ya thought."

"Detective, this is Constable Fraser we're discussing. It's like his personality has been altered. We both know he can be a bit...frustrating at times, but when it comes to his duty..."

"All right, all right. I was gonna stop by anyway. Can you tell 'im I'll pick 'im up for lunch?"

"Yes, but, make it after one. He's on sentry duty until then."

"Guard duty? Yeah, that'll straighten him right out." Ray said, sarcastically. She considered trying to explain that she wanted to keep him in sight and away from any work that might suffer from his handling but she knew Vecchio wouldn't understand. He would assume she was putting the consulate ahead of Fraser. And while he wasn't wrong, she was also trying to protect her second in command from doing anything that would reflect badly on him. She hung up the phone and returned to looking out the window.

Ray drove towards the consulate playing over the conversation he had with the Dragon Lady. Okay, the Inspector. She sounded genuinely concerned but then she stuck Fraser on guard duty. That fact alone justified not confirming her suspicions with a re-counting of Fraser's tantrum at the station. Guard duty was the equivalent of school detention unless it was your normal assignment. Turnbull took the duty because he was a junior officer or member of the firm or whatever the RCMP called their new constables. Fraser acted as her second. He covered for her in her frequent absences. He directed the rest of the staff as needed. He didn't pretend to be a statue for several consecutive hours just for the sake of Canadian appearances.

He pulled up at 12:45 knowing Fraser would still be standing at attention. He thought this would give him an opportunity to study his friend's appearance without being too obvious. But, when he looked at the steps, no one was standing there. His stomach tightened. Benny never left his post early. He climbed out of the car and rushed into the building.

Turnbull met him at the door. The large, blond Constable blocked his way. He started talking in broken sentences as fast as the words could be formed. Ray walked around him and headed for Fraser's office. Thatcher called to him. He made a sharp change in direction.

Walking through the door to Thatcher's office, he found Benny sitting with his back to him. Thatcher sat on her desk, watching the Constable intently. When Ray came around to the other side asking questions, he stopped in mid-sentence. Fraser was ashen. He looked less white than gray. His normally clear, blue-gray eyes were hazy and bloodshot. His mouth was set in a frown. He didn't meet Ray's gaze as he sipped water from a paper cup.

"Constable Fraser fainted while he was standing guard." Thatcher explained.

"I did not faint, I felt a bit dizzy and when I stumbled I slipped on the ice." Fraser argued irritably. He was close to being insubordinate. To her credit, Thatcher ignored his tone.

"Constable Turnbull says he was unconscious for a moment when he reached him."

"He's mistaken." Fraser said.

"Well, Benny, a lot of times people don't remember fainting."

"I did not faint."

"Okay." Ray said agreeably, "you didn't faint. But, you said you were dizzy, are you sick?"

"I didn't have breakfast, I'm quite sure that's all it was. Drinking this water has rejuvenated me adequately so that I can finish my shift. If you'll please excuse me." He started to push himself up, but Thatcher stopped him with a motion from her hand.

"Hold it, Constable. You are not returning to your post today. You are clearly not up to the task and I won't have my officers passing out..." She held up her hand when he started to argue, "or slipping on the ice in front of the Consulate. Your color is bad, you've been acting strangely and..." he tried to interrupt again but she refused to let him speak, "I'm willing to accept that you're not feeling well even if you don't want to see it. Now, I want you to go home, get some rest and don't come back until Monday when you've sufficiently cared for yourself."

"Sir, Mam, I assure you I am not ill. I have not been sleeping particularly well and perhaps that has interfered with my general performance but I don't need time off."

"That's an order, Constable."

"Sir..."

"That's an order."

"Come on, Benny, she's right. You have the sick time; you might as well take it since she's insisting. I'll take you home."

"I don't need a ride from you." Fraser stood up angrily and walked out. Ray glanced at Thatcher meeting her worried expression and followed him back to his office. He waited until they were inside before confronting him.

"What did you mean by that?" Ray said.

"By what? I'm perfectly capable of walking home."

"That's not what you said. You said you didn't need a ride from me. Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be angry? I haven't seen you in a week. The last time I did see you, you were defending your new partner while she..." He stopped talking as he loaded some files into a briefcase. Ray was too distracted to ask him why he had a briefcase. Ray thought he kept everything in his knapsack.

"You're still upset about that? You know, Benny, that's just stupid."

"Stupid? Well fine, then, Ray, I see where you stand."

"No, you don't. I didn't ask for a partner and I wasn't happy about taking one on but the department ordered it and just like you I have to follow orders. If you're jealous because..."

"This is not about jealousy. You don't require back up from me anymore, that's fine, Ray. I have a job. I don't need to be chasing criminals with you every minute. But, she's rude, she's monopolizing your time and Diefenbaker doesn't like her." Ray shook his head.

"Benny, I don't like her, but she is my partner. And she may have been out of line with Frannie but Frannie can take care of herself. I can't believe you don't see that you were making it worse." He hesitated, took a breath and added a teasing smile, "Who are you and what did you do with the real Fraser?"

"That's great, Ray, make jokes. Does this seem funny to you?" The smile vanished.

"No, it seems insane. You've been holding a grudge for a whole week, Benny."

"A whole week, Benny." Fraser repeated, mocking him. Ray wanted to slug him. Instead he took a step back, mentally and physically. He held up his hands as if to surrender. Fraser stared back at him, his anger breaking. He suddenly heard himself and he didn't like the sound. He rubbed his thumb along his eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, Ray, I don't know what came over me."

"All right." Ray said guardedly.

"I seem to have lost all control over myself."

"It's okay." Ray answered softly. "We all have our moments." Ben lowered his voice.

"It's been more than a moment. I yelled at Turnbull yesterday. Inspector Thatcher heard me and had to intervene."

"Okay." Ray said, "Why don't we go get something to eat and you can tell me what's been going on."

While Ray Vecchio herded Fraser out of the consulate, Francesca Vecchio stood frozen in the supply closet. She had gone in because she needed paper for her printer. She knew where the paper was and neglected to pull the light switch. The room fell into total darkness when someone closed the door. She started to yell when a hand went over her mouth. She could feel a man's body press against her as she backed up.

"It's me, Frannie, don't be scared." She recognized Dave Parker's voice. She tried to bring her knee up but he was standing too close. "Shsh, be nice." He whispered. "I just wanna tell you something." She tried to twist away but he held her firmly by wedging her in between his body and the wall.

"I can do this any time I want." He said, "no one's gonna take your word over mine. Not Welsh, not your brother. Hell, Ray thinks I'm a God since I saved his life. So, you play nice when we go out on Saturday and you get to keep your job and your reputation." He laughed, "Okay, your reputation is already shot but, hey, that's why we'll have fun."

He pulled his hand away and kissed her on the mouth before he turned and left the closet. She stood trembling in the dim light coming from the hall. She had to do something.

But, what? The lieutenant was his Godfather. And Ray did like him.

Francesca knew she dressed to get attention. She liked short skirts and tight sweaters. She liked high heels and bright jewelry. And sure she dated. She was a young single woman. Of course she dated. But, mostly she just wished Fraser would... But, did that make Parker right about her? Was she asking for this because she didn't wear the Civilian Aide uniform or because she liked to spend time with some of her male co-workers? Her ex-husband always complained she was too friendly. Even Ray picked on her dating habits and her clothes. He was furious when he realized how determined she was to snag Fraser. She read enough to know that a woman never asks to be harassed, but maybe she was the exception. She respected Welsh, she loved Ray, she even liked Jack Huey and all of them seemed to like Dave Parker.

Of course, they didn't know that he liked to block her in doorways. They didn't know he followed her home a couple of weeks earlier and stayed until dawn while Ray was out all night on a stakeout. They never saw him pat her lower back or brush against her when he could easily go around instead.

Maybe the only thing to do was quit. She liked working in the station but she didn't want to see him every day. She didn't like feeling ugly and on display. She didn't want to hear any more of his nasty threats and insults. Maybe quitting was the best way to make it stop.

Ben and Ray bought sandwiches at a deli near the station. Neither man spoke while they ate except to make minor conversation. When they finished eating, they agreed to go back to Ben's apartment to discuss matters.

Diefenbaker welcomed them with a whine so Fraser took him outside. Ray waited in the kitchen. He looked around the small gray room wondering again why Benny chose to live in this roach motel. He took a pan out of the cupboard and filled it with water. He wanted coffee but he didn't want to mess with the old-fashioned percolator. Ben returned a few moments later. He looked better after eating but he still didn't look well. Ray noticed he only ate about half of his sandwich at lunch. Even his uniform seemed to hang loosely on him.

"Have you been eating at all?" Ray asked.

"Yes, well, some. I've been feeling a bit nauseous."

"So, you haven't been eating."

"Well, of course, I eat. It's not like I haven't..." Ben caught the irritation in his voice and stopped.

"But, not a lot." Ray persisted.

"Ray, I once went six days with no food. I was tracking Big Calvin Little when I became lost in the mountains. Well, not lost precisely, but separated from civilization. Calvin fell into a crevasse just as I was reaching for him. He grabbed at me for help but only managed to take my pack over the edge. I looked for him but both he and all of my provisions were gone. I was days from any village that I knew. Everything was frozen; there was no vegetation or animals. No insects or other such protein sources. I was able to stay hydrated, of course, but no food at all. When I finally found a small village, I was weak, of course, but one good meal and I was nearly back to myself. A person does not need to eat three meals a day to stay alive." Ray waited impatiently for the end of the story. He had already guessed how it ended.

"But, we do need to eat. And if you're too nauseous to eat regularly, then you're sick. How long has this been going on?"

"Not long, a few weeks, perhaps. Since I returned from Ottawa, I think."

"That's been like a month!" Ray said sharply.

"I know, but, honestly, the nausea isn't what concerns me. It's the sleep. I've been falling asleep on duty, which is unconscionable. I should turn myself into the Inspector so she can dismiss me from service. "

"Don't get ahead of yourself. You don't sleep at all?"

"That's the odd thing, I do sleep. Every night I get into bed and fall into a comfortable slumber almost immediately. But, often my dreams, they're unbelievably real. It's as if I'm awake, actually experiencing the images. I wake more tired than when I went to sleep."

"Nightmares?"

"No, not since the one that woke Mr. Mustafi. But, it's not just at night. The images come when I'm at work. When I'm walking to work. Sometimes, I'll be speaking with Inspector Thatcher and my mind just goes. I can't concentrate on even the most mundane tasks. Henry Wells, the kleptomaniac, escaped from my view a dozen times over the last month because I would simply stop seeing him. An image would take over my mind and I'd be powerless to stop it." Ray was getting worried.

"What kind of images are they?"

"Colorful, vivid, extremely real. Do you remember the sweat lodge?" Ray nodded remembering when he was introduced to a native custom of sitting in a confined space in order to sweat beside a fire until a vision revealed itself. "It's like that. It's like having a vision or hallucinating. I tell you, Ray, I think I may be losing my mind."

"Don't say that. Yer not losing your mind. Whatever is happening to ya, we're gonna fix. I think we need t'get you checked out by a doctor. Maybe it's food poisoning or lead poisoning from this rattrap you live in. Or maybe, yer just reacting to stress or something."

"I'm not eating the windowsill paint, Ray, it's not lead poisoning."

"Well, it's gotta be something. Why didn't ya tell me about this sooner or tell the Dragon Lady? You guys have health insurance don't ya? You must have shrinks."

"You think its mental illness?"

"No I don't think its... look, I don't know what it is, but ya could've come to me, you didn't have to live with it this long."

"I'm sorry, Ray." But, I like the images, he thought. Maybe a part of me doesn't want them to stop because they make me feel close to home. I've been so lonely lately and it's like being transported back to the life I miss so much.

Ray's phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, staring into Fraser's face, looking for some clue to his problem. Ben stood up and poured boiling water over the instant coffee Ray had set out. He pulled a tea bag from the canister by the stove and poured the rest of the water over it.

"What're you drinking?" Ray said with a frown as he put the phone back in his pocket.

"Herbal tea. I admit the aroma is pungent and it tastes a bit bitter but it appeals to me. It seems to have a calming effect."

"Never put anything in your body that you have to plug your nose to drink, Benny. Everyone knows that."

"My grandmother would disagree. Of course she wasn't, well, cooking was not her strong suit. Anyway, it's just cinnamon, hawthorn berries, thistle seed, stevia leaves, some other natural ingredients."

"You been drinking this long?"

"No. Well, I've been drinking tea, of course. This particular blend was a gift from Jessie the day after I found her."

"Speaking of Jessie, that was her. Apparently, the Short Stop sent us a note. He wants to meet to turn himself in."

"When?"

"At seven tonight. He wants to meet at a warehouse down by the docks. Jessie thinks it's just someone messin' around with us. She's takin' bets that it turns out to be Huey an' Parker, but I doubt it. Jack an' I have pulled our share of practical jokes on each other but this doesn't sound like 'im."

"So, you think it's a genuine offer?"

"I don't know, it's not likely. This guy's gettin' away clean, he doesn't have any reason t'turn himself in, but we gotta go, just in case."

"Will it just be you and Jessie?"

"Yeah." He answered, sipping his coffee.

"Would you care for some company?"

"I don't know, you think that's a good idea?"

"You said yourself that it's likely to be nothing. Perhaps being in the field again is what I need. I haven't been doing much police work lately. Maybe the dreams are a manifestation from boredom." Ray thought this over. He didn't like the idea. On the other hand, he didn't like leaving Benny alone. Chances were good that the three of them would spend a few hours in a cold vehicle for nothing. He could use that time to keep an eye on his friend. It would also be nice to have a third party in the car. He and Jessie needed a buffer to keep from shooting each other. Ray agreed to take Fraser on the condition that Benny use his cell phone to make a doctor's appointment for the next day.

Ray had paid three neighbor kids to dig out the Riviera and the driveway a few weeks earlier. He refused for a couple of days but when his mother returned from Florida, she insisted. Ray argued with her through the course of an afternoon but in the end, as always, he did what she wanted.

Ray and Jessie took the front seat. Ben climbed into the back. He left Diefenbaker at home since they still didn't know why the wolf objected to Jessie. His stomach cramped uncomfortably but he didn't want to tell Ray. He was already starting to regret divulging so much to him. He trusted Ray completely but he never liked confessing his own difficulties.

Jessie explained the note was found on her desk addressed to Detectives Douglas and Vecchio. Huey found it and called her with the information. He took it for prints but his were the only ones found. And much to the irritation of Lieutenant Welsh, no one saw who left the note.

The sun disappeared as they sat in the car periodically running the heat. Soon night filled the sky around them complete with stars and a full moon. A narrow light circled the orb. Ray remembered his mother calling it a "snow moon". He hoped she was wrong this time. Since the consecutive blizzards, no snow had fallen and he wanted it to stay that way for awhile.

Seven o'clock came and went. Fraser was feeling light-headed. He couldn't quite focus anymore so he closed his eyes. Ray noticed and thought he was sleeping. Since he was not technically working, neither detective disturbed him.

"Is he always this helpful on a stakeout?" Jessie whispered.

"He's been sick, don't worry about it." Ray answered, irritated by her sarcasm.

Ben heard them talking but their voices were far away. He felt as if he was sitting beside himself watching the activities around him while his real self slipped further into the tundra. Part of him wanted to gain Ray's attention, tell him what was happening. Part of him wanted to lose himself to the dreams hiding just beyond his conscious. But, he couldn't control either impulse. Soon the dreams took over.

At eight o'clock, Jessie suggested they quit. With Ben sleeping peacefully in the back and the cold coming through the doors, she was ready to go home and be warm. Ray wanted to wait longer. He had a hunch this was the night.

Ben sat up with a yell startling the two detectives. Ray turned around and Jessie yelled that someone had just run into the warehouse. She was out of the car and running before Ray could stop her. He flung open his door just as the radio crackled to life. Ray answered the call, anxiously staring at the warehouse. Jessie had disappeared inside. The call informed him that the Short Stop had been arrested. Ray didn't wait for details.

"Benny, stay here!" He shouted as he followed his partner. With his weapon drawn, Ray ran to the warehouse door. He hesitated with his back to the wall, then peered around slowly. There was no movement so he entered the doorway. Taking slow, easy steps he searched the empty room. Seeing was nearly impossible in the sealed warehouse. He reached what seemed to be about the center of the room when a scraping noise came from his right side. He turned, aiming in that direction.

"This is the police. I'm armed." He said.

"It's me, Ray." Jessie said, stepping out from a side door. Ray lowered his weapon, grateful it was his partner. He did not even see that door when he entered.

"I have a message for you." She said in a flat, even voice.

"What? What's wrong, are you all right?"

"This is from Victoria." She said, firing point blank into his chest. Ray Vecchio flew backward two feet before landing on his back in the middle of the deserted warehouse.

Lieutenant Welsh followed Francesca through the glass doors. She had cried all the way to the hospital but now she was determined. They reached the front desk where Frannie demanded the room number of her brother. Standing by the wall across from the desk were Detectives Jack Huey and David Parker.

"He's in emergency, Frannie. They haven't put him in a room yet." Parker said.

"Shut up!" She said, pointing a finger at him, " I don't wanna hear from you." She turned back to the desk. The officers exchanged surprised looks.

"My brother, Detective Ray Vecchio, I need to know where he is." A matronly nurse smiled understandingly at her.

"It's all right, miss. Your brother is in the emergency room with Dr. Brennan. The doctor will tell you more very soon. You can wait right over there in visitors."

"They said he was shot." She said breathlessly.

"He was wearing a vest, Francesca." Huey said.

Welsh sighed. He put a supportive arm around Frannie and led her to the waiting area. The two men followed. Once she was settled in a chair, he motioned for his detectives to follow him. They huddled out of Francesca's hearing.

"What happened?" Welsh said.

"We're not sure, Sir." Huey answered. "Vecchio's unconscious and Douglas is missing."

"Missing? I have a detective in emergency and a detective missing and you have nothing to tell me?"

"Well, we found the weapon at the sight. It's... it belongs to the Mountie, Sir."

"Fraser's weapon was used?"

"Well, we have it on file from that business with the Metcalf woman. I thought it looked like the same gun. Lab confirmed it. And Sir, his fingerprints were on it."

"Where is the Constable?"

"Missing also, Sir."

"Have you notified the consulate?"

"Yes, they have." Meg Thatcher answered as she approached. "How is Detective Vecchio?"

"We're waiting to hear but it looks like he got lucky." Welsh answered.

"Good." She sighed, obviously relieved, though whether she was thinking of Vecchio or Fraser was unclear. "Now, about Constable Fraser. His fingerprints should be on the weapon; it belongs to him. It certainly doesn't mean he fired it. Admittedly, he's been acting strangely, but I am confident he would never harm Vecchio."

"Acting strangely in what way?" Welsh asked, remembering the argument with Vecchio and Douglas in the squad room.

They were interrupted by the doctor's approach. Francesca held her hands clasped in front of her, bracing for the worst. The doctor addressed her directly despite the group surrounding him.

"Detective Vecchio sustained some bruising from the impact of the bullet. He also sustained a moderate head injury when he fell. None of this is life threatening. The kevlar vest undoubtedly saved his life. I'd like to keep him overnight and he should spend a few days resting, but after that he should be ready to go back to his normal routine."

"Can I see him?" Frannie asked.

The doctor led her into the treatment room. When he came back out, Welsh wanted to know when he could be questioned.

"Let's get him into his room. He's been given some pain medication that's making him drowsy so let's let him rest a bit, and then if he can stay awake, he can answer your questions."

"No, I don't think so," Francesca said, sticking her head out of the door, "He wants to see the lieutenant now. He says it's important."

Welsh nodded to the doctor as he passed him. Francesca left them alone. She saw the Inspector standing to one side, away from the detectives. She decided she needed some assistance and another woman seemed a good choice. She didn't like the Inspector, she had a feeling Thatcher liked Fraser too much but at this point she was desperate.

First, she had to call home and fill in the family on her brother's condition. Then she needed to have a talk with Thatcher.

Welsh stood beside Ray's bed thinking he had seen too many officers lying in hospitals. Vecchio was pale with dark bruises of exhaustion marring his face. His voice sounded soft and hoarse.

"Sir, it's Victoria."

"Victoria Metcalf?" Welsh asked, surprised to hear her name twice in the last half-hour.

"She didn't shoot me. Jessie shot me. She said it was from Victoria."

"Are you certain, Detective? You've just had a serious trauma and you're accusing a fellow officer, your partner, of shooting you."

"I walked into the warehouse. Jessie came out of hiding. She said 'this is from Victoria' and she pulled the trigger. I'm not imagining it, Sir. Victoria's back."

"Constable Fraser is missing." Ray closed his eyes for a moment.

"All right, look, I've had some time to think this through. The meds they gave me are kicking in so I have to make this fast. Fraser's been acting funny, enough to get Thatcher's attention. He hasn't been sleeping and he's been feeling sick. Maybe Jessie did somethin' to 'im. Or Victoria, but I haven't seen her."

"The ballistics report on the gun found at the warehouse is Fraser's service weapon."

"He didn't shoot me, Sir. I think they wanted to make him act funny so Jessie could shoot me and blame him. She must've hired Jessie to get my confidence."

"That's a leap, Detective. Do you have anything to back up your suspicion?"

"No, I mean, no proof, but, I think I know how she's doing it...at least I did know, but I can't remember. It's something Fraser said earlier, I just can't seem to... look, Sir, if we're gonna find Benny, I think we need to make her believe she succeeded. I have to be dead for Jessie to come back and pin this on 'im."

"No. That is not an option. There're too many people involved already."

"If they're together and she finds out I'm alive, then her plan goes to hell. She'll probably kill him."

"We don't know what her plan is, Vecchio. You're just guessing." Ray thought about that.

"Ya know, if she thinks I'm alive, maybe she'll try to finish the job. It might draw her out."

"Detective." Welsh said, clearly not liking his train of thought.

"I have to do something, Lieutenant. We got no idea where she is or what she and Victoria have planned for Benny. I can't just lay here." Welsh took pity on him.

"All right then this is what we'll do. You play scrambled. You don't know anything. You don't remember anything. I'll answer a few questions for the reporters and make it real clear that you're in good shape but your head injury is causing some amnesia about the actual event."

"So she won't know that we know about her."

"Right. It'll give her some leeway with her plan and hopefully bring her out in the open. You're gonna need a 24 hour guard."

"That'll just scare her away."

"Not if we're discreet. And I don't want you to stay here. There's too many strangers."

"I can stay at my house. I'll get Frannie t'take the family to my aunt's."

"I'd like your sister to stay. She'll be needed at the station. There's no one else to trust if we're going to keep your real condition a secret. Does she know anything yet?"

"Nah, I just told 'er that I wanted t'see you."

"We'll have to confide in her but that's it. Tell her to call your mother and get the rest of your family out of the way."

"Yes, Sir. Uh, thank-you, Sir."

Welsh found Francesca speaking with Inspector Thatcher. He called to her saying that Ray needed her. Frannie thanked him as she hurried past.

Welsh explained Ray's amnesia to the Inspector. She was clearly distressed to find that they couldn't clear Fraser immediately. Welsh assured her that Ray didn't believe that Fraser shot him.

"Since he doesn't remember, how can he know?" She asked, more to herself than to the lieutenant.

After Welsh went in search of Huey and Parker, Thatcher stared at the closed door to Vecchio's room. She wondered if Fraser could have shot him. Was he so far gone that he could actually try to kill his best friend? She couldn't believe it. But, she wouldn't have believed a lot of the Constable's behavior lately. Had this collapse been building? She could see he was depressed. She could see he was preoccupied. But, this. Was this really possible? No, she told herself firmly. There's something more to this situation, there has to be. In a few days, if the matter had not been settled, she would go to Vecchio and shake his memory back into him.

Fraser shook his head slowly, trying to clear the fog away. His body felt thick and heavy. He tried to focus on his surroundings but the effort caused a tidal wave of pain through his skull. Closing his eyes, he let the darkness take him again.

Ray lay in his bed listening to his mother talk. She hated seeing him hurt. She chastised him for not being more careful. He tried to reassure her but he wasn't feeling especially confident. He could see Jessie in the dark, hear her voice, hear the sound of the gun firing. The memory made him feel vulnerable. If he hadn't worn the vest, he'd be dead. And why did he wear the vest when he almost never did? Because at the last minute, he had a hunch or a premonition or just a bad feeling so he went down to the locker room and slipped a kevlar vest on under his clothes. He didn't tell Jessie or Fraser. He told himself it was extra protection, just in case. He never imagined he would need it.

His mother kissed him softly on the cheek before she left. She patted Diefenbaker's head. Francesca had retrieved the wolf from Fraser's apartment so they could care for him in the Mountie's absence.

His sister Maria and her husband, Tony took their children to the home of Maria's in-laws. Ray's mother refused to leave town when two of her children remained in possible danger. Ray argued with her out of habit but he knew from the start that she wasn't leaving so he asked Welsh to double the surveillance on the house and he kept his loaded gun beside the bed. He would never keep a loaded weapon when Maria's children were there but with them out of town, he felt safer keeping it nearby.

Ray forced himself to review Victoria Metcalf and the horror she left behind. Fraser's one real love and she nearly destroyed both of their careers by planting stolen money on them, framing Fraser for murder and involving him a diamond theft. Fraser had tracked her ten years earlier when she robbed a bank in Alaska. The two of them nearly died on a mountain during a blizzard. It was there that he fell in love with her. A few days later, he lived up to his police duty and he turned her in. She never forgave him. When she was released from prison, she began setting him up methodically, finally using him to buy stolen diamonds. All the while she professed her love for him, all the while she was trying to destroy him. Ray realized he was only included in her revenge because he was Fraser's friend but that didn't make it less personal. And in the end, when his friend was ready to desert him, desert his life, even, his duty, Ray shot him in the back when he stepped in front of a bullet meant for Victoria. The memory still clenched his insides like a vise.

How could she be back? And how did Jessie figure in?

He heard the phone ring, then his mother returned with the cordless. She had removed the telephone from his room so he could rest. When she left, Dief followed her.

Welsh didn't waste time with pleasantries. With Francesca's assistance, they checked into Jessie Douglas. Initially, she appeared to be a fine detective. She had several commendations in her file, two for bravery. She received high marks on all of her department reviews. Her file was flagged for transfer to the United States Marshal Service. She served for the last couple of years in Richmond, Virginia and then requested her Chicago transfer a few weeks earlier. Ray could confirm much of this information from his conversations with her.

"That's what I thought." Welsh said, "Until I saw her rookie picture."

Jessie Douglas' parents names were Qui Van and June Kim. They died the year before in a car accident. Jessie was half-Korean and half-Native American. She had long black hair and dark, narrow eyes. Jessie's ex-husband was Craig Douglas and he hadn't heard from her since the transfer.

"The real Jessie is missing."

"I think we can assume the worst, Detective. Our Jessie Douglas took her identity."

Ray needed a moment to accept the impact of this. He shifted subjects.

"How's my amnesia holding up?"

"Everyone's very concerned. They're more than a little ready to lynch the Mountie if they can find him."

"Great. He's probably been kidnapped and the only rescue he can expect is from a bunch of cops who want revenge."

"Anytime you wanna make a full recovery, you just let me know."

"We gotta draw her out, Lieu."

"And you need to realize they may not even be in Chicago anymore."

"I can't think about that."

Ray suggested Jessie must have had a vehicle stashed near the warehouse since she didn't take the Riv. Welsh assured him they were looking into that. Both men knew it was nearly impossible to find a witness in that part of town. The only population was homeless and they rarely admitted to seeing anything.

When Ben woke up again, he refused to retreat back to the darkness. He breathed deeply, taking in the oxygen, igniting his brain cells. Slowly, he focused on the room. A small hotel room with a single bed and a nightstand. The walls were painted gray like the color of a prison. The bedspread was dark red. The furniture was an imitation blond wood of some kind. He was sitting in a chair with his wrists handcuffed behind his back. He could feel the metal against his skin. When he tried to stand, he found the handcuffs were somehow secured to the chair. He thought he was alone and set about figuring out how to release himself. If the chair was the same quality as the rest of the furniture, he should be able to break it apart.

He tried to trace how he arrived here but the memories were broken. They seemed more like flashes than real events. He clearly remembered sitting in Ray's car when a frightening image of Victoria setting fire to the Riviera jumped into his mind.

He could see Ray inside the vehicle, pounding on the glass while the car burned. He thought he yelled out and then the image was replaced by Diefenbaker leading him through some dense foliage. The images seemed to stop then or at least he couldn't recall anything else until Jessie started pulling him out of the back seat. He felt her cold hands on his forearm and then some pain in his arm. It all seemed unreal and yet it was terrifying too.

Jessie Douglas appeared in the bathroom doorway, drying her hands with a lime green towel. He looked at her, not quite surprised but not really expecting her either.

As she walked towards him she could see the anger in his eyes. There was confusion and worry and questions but mostly there was anger. She respected his ability to control it. As she touched his cheek gently he turned his head. She put her hands on either side of his face firmly. She leaned and kissed him hard on the mouth. There was nothing erotic or romantic about it. She was proving her power. Then she stepped back with a smile, obviously pleased with herself.

"Are you quite finished?" Ben asked, stiffly, feeling a slightly ill.

"For the most part. You know what's going on?"

"You injected me with something at the warehouse."

"Yeah, I did." She sat down on the bed with a smile and leaned forward. She was excited to reveal herself. "What else?"

"The odd feelings I've been having, the dreams...you've been drugging me with something for some time."

"Ooh, you're good at this. It was in the tea."

"What was it?"

"You'll appreciate this. Peyote. A wonderful hallucinogen used by Native Americans for religious ceremonies. It's illegal in the states unless you belong to a sect that uses it. It's a perfectly natural drug cultivated from a cactus. Given your fondness for Native Americans, don't you think it was a stroke of genius to use it instead of LSD or PCP? You drank it at night because I told you it'd help you sleep. An hour or so later, the hallucinations would start but you'd think they were dreams. Your mind doesn't really shut down and you feel hung over and unrested the next day so you try the tea again hoping it'll help you sleep. My aunt would call that a 'vicious cycle'. Makes you feel kind of crazy, doesn't it?" He nodded seriously. "It was kind of an experiment but it just... it worked great! I'll bet you've been acting nuts for days. They'll think you went round the bend. Especially when they discover you killed two people." His eyes narrowed curiously at her. "Oh, yeah, they won't find my body but they'll find the car. There'll be just enough trace evidence to link both of us to the vehicle. After Vecchio, that's all they'll need."

"Wh-What?" He sputtered, his breath caught in his throat.

"You know, my badge, my jacket. Oh, sorry, you mean Ray. I killed him yesterday. Shot him in the heart."

Ben closed his eyes. He couldn't breathe. His voice echoed denials in his head. He could hear his own heart beating. All the years of disciplining his emotions worked for him now as he gradually steadied himself. He opened his eyes and focused on Jessie.

"I realize that was a shock, Galahad, but you've been clean for almost fifteen hours. You shouldn't be hallucinating."

"I'm not." He said, roughly.

"You don't remember me, do you? That first night I was sure you'd see who I was. I mean it was twelve years ago but I haven't really aged that much, have I?" Ben just stared at her. Nothing about her seemed familiar. He had to force himself to think around the news about Ray.

"You arrested me. Come on, think about it. I was fifteen. You were very young. On vacation, I think. You weren't even in uniform. You came to my friend's house. I was crouching in the kitchen and..."

"And I thought you were hurt. You ran at me with a knife when I approached."

"That's right. You do remember. And my parents had me sent away for as long as they could..."

"Because you stabbed your younger brother. And you were hiding at a neighbor's. An old friend of my father's. I had been visiting at his new home in Alaska."

"Oh, I am flattered. You'll never guess who I met just a couple of years later."

Ben shook his head. Jessie frowned.

"You haven't guessed yet? How many enemies do you have that'd go to these lengths to ruin you?" The last piece fell into place with a resounding thud.

"Victoria." He mouthed the word but there was no sound.

"Ding ding, you win the kewpie doll. She misses you in her own demented little way. She wants you to be with her and I'm going to take you. Kind of a different twist, huh?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Well, actually, you might want to think about that. See, the Chicago Police and the RCMP are going to think you had a breakdown. I'll bet you've been misbehaving. Your friends are probably talking about you. Your boss is probably wondering if you need a vacation or a transfer or something. The last person you were seen with, namely your best friend, was killed with your gun. And then there's poor Jessie Douglas who's disappeared. They'll find her car in a couple days when they get a great tip on its location. Victoria planned it this way. She ruined you here so you'd have no future except a prison sentence or a lifetime trip to the mental ward."

"I'm not going with you." He said, more forcefully.

"She said you wanted to be with her once. Would it be so terrible to be with her now? It's gotta be better than the alternative. Do you have any idea how vindictive the police can be when one of their own is murdered? You'll be lucky to make it to trial."

"Why does it matter to you? Is convincing me part of your service?" Jessie laughed at that.

"Nope, it just makes you easier to transport."

Francesca watched the squad room move through their routines. They were like robots fulfilling their programming. The news of Ray's shooting and Jessie's disappearance had the station in a state of depression and frustration. It was bad enough to have one of their own injured and another missing, but they trusted Fraser. It was a devastating blow for all of them, to think he had turned on them. She felt guilty at their deception but she would do anything to protect her brother and Fraser. In fact, it was her worry over Benton that allowed her to be so convincingly devastated by Ray's shooting.

Inspector Thatcher walked up behind her. She touched her shoulder. Francesca jumped, slapping at her hand. Thatcher shook her head thinking this woman was a complete incompetent. However, she was also being victimized and that was something Meg would not tolerate.

"Are you sure we should be doing this? With Ray and Ben and everything, this just isn't that important."

"Miss Vecchio, you are every bit as important to this station as they are. Your situation may not be dire yet but it could easily become so. Now, do as we planned. I promise it will be fine."

"You won't leave me alone with 'im fer long, will you?" Thatcher sighed. She was not good at providing comfort and support. It just wasn't natural for her.

"No, just long enough. And you won't be out of sight. Are you ready?" Frannie nodded. She walked across the room to Dave Parker's desk. He smiled up at her. She wanted to slap him.

"I'd like to speak with you. It's about Saturday."

"Oh, Frannie, you don't want to cancel, do you? I know you're worried about Ray, but" he lowered his voice, "he's not going anywhere, is he?"

"Just meet me in Interrogation Room 2. Please. We need to discuss this."

Frannie glanced at the Inspector but Thatcher was knocking on Lieutenant Welsh's door. She walked down the hall, pulling down her skirt nervously, trying not to think of his hand over her mouth or his body pressed against hers. She shuddered as she entered the interrogation room and pulled out one of the wooden chairs. She sat down facing the door so Parker would be facing the mirrored wall. He came in a few moments later and sat down across from her.

"Well?" he asked, "What is it? I am tryin' to find your brother's shooter, your precious Mountie, I might add, an' you're interrupting."

"Well, aren't you the sweet talker." Frannie said with a nervous laugh. He laughed too.

"Okay, okay, you're right, I shouldn't keep throwin' him back at you. Wha'd you wanna talk about? You need to know what to wear on Saturday?"

"I'm not going out with you on Saturday or any other time. I don't like you. You're insulting and pushy and manipulative."

"Can you spell 'manipulative'?"

"I mean it."

"Well, I did think you liked this job. But, obviously I was wrong."

"What are you saying?" Frannie squeezed her hands into fists. This was it. All he had to do was say it.

"You won't be very happy here if I don't like you. The other guys won't like you. Harding might start wondering about you."

"I don't understand. I've been here a lot longer than you. I do a good job, a very good job. No one has any reason to complain about me." Parker snatched her hand into his own. He pulled her close.

"You're a tramp. Everyone knows it. One complaint from me an' you'll be out on your..." The rest of his words were lost when Lieutenant Welsh and Inspector Thatcher came through the viewing room door. Welsh grabbed Parker by the back of the neck, lifted him off the chair and slammed him into the opposite wall. In a calm, even voice he said,

"Would you leave us alone, please?" The women left the room.

Ben sat quietly in his chair. He glanced at Jessie from time to time, watching her read a comic book. She was curled up on the bed. A gun lay beside her right hand. She laughed and flipped some pages. She would look at him occasionally, pat the gun or grin, then she'd return to her reading.

He remembered her. Her name was Barbara Knox. Even at fifteen, she was clearly a psychopath. She stabbed her brother when they argued over a television show. She never expressed remorse, just surprise that her parents abandoned her to the system. He couldn't remember her sentence but the judge saw through her feigned youthful innocence. The penalty was stiff. Looking at her now, even with lightened hair, styled much differently than the permed curls she wore as a girl, he was surprised he missed her real identity. He should have seen it. Even Diefenbaker, who was not yet born when Ben arrested her, recognized the woman's insanity, her lawlessness.

He knew there was no time to berate himself. Second guessing at this point was a waste of time. If she planned to take him to Victoria, then he had to escape.

Since he was handcuffed and not tied, the knife in his boot was useless. In fact he still had not arrived at a better plan than smashing the chair to the floor and hoping the wood was brittle. However, Jessie (Barbara) could easily shoot him before he would be able to maneuver out of the chair. Even if she didn't kill him, a gunshot wound would most likely incapacitate him enough so that he wouldn't have another opportunity to escape.

Ray. He stopped himself. He could not think about him. She was a criminal and she could be lying. He needed to believe she was lying in order to keep his mind clear.

She tired of her reading and swung herself around so she was facing him again. She knelt down in front of him.

"You wouldn't kick a lady now would you?" She asked as she ran her hands down the inside of his calf. She was kneeling just to the side so he couldn't kick her even if he wanted to. She slipped his knife out of its sheath and ran the blade back up his calf to his inner thigh. He held his breath until she leaned back taking the weapon with her. "I didn't forget this but I thought it'd be fun to see if you tried to get to it. But, you're just sitting there all boring." She pouted as she sat on the bed. He refused to respond.

"All right, you don't want to play. I can understand that, you've had a bad day. But, you must have questions. Don't you want to know where we're going? Don't you want to know where Victoria is meeting you? And what about Ray? Don't you want to know what his last moment on earth was like? Aren't you curious?"

He looked away from her towards the window. Jessie stood close to his right side. She bent down and slowly rolled up the sleeve to his flannel shirt. He held his breath while she pushed up the second sleeve of his thermal shirt. She ran her fingers along his forearm.

"You know," she whispered, "I cut myself that night. Just put the knife into my arm and pulled. It didn't hurt at first, probably because of the cold. But, there was a lot of blood and you were late getting there. But, you saved me, ya know. You saved my life so Ray could die. Kind of depressing, I'll bet." Ben's jaw was set tight enough to feel the tug of the muscles. "I was thinking, we could have matching scars." He jerked back towards her. She pulled up her sleeve to show him the thin white mark from her knife wound. It wasn't entirely healed yet. "We'll show Victoria together. She asked me not to hurt you but I don't think she'll mind if you have a reminder of our time together."

"I would imagine that unhurt means unhurt." He said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "We certainly don't require matching scars." She rubbed the blunt side against his skin. "And your employer might object to damaged property, not to mention the awful mess you'll make after the incision. As you said there'll be a lot of blood." She placed the sharp point just above the wrist. He closed his eyes waiting for the ugly sensation of the blade opening up skin and muscle. In a last effort he threw himself backward. They both toppled over. Ben landed hard with the chair and his weight slamming down on his arms. Jessie toppled on top of him. The chair mostly disintegrated when they landed. Ben scrambled in one direction, breaking free of the wood while Jessie scrambled in the opposite direction towards the bed.

Ben reached his feet stumbling over the nightstand and ramming into the window behind him. Just as he regained his balance, Jessie placed the muzzle against the back of his neck. She jammed her knee into the back of his leg and he fell to one knee. A burst of pain filled his skull when she clipped the edge of his head with the barrel. He toppled over. He didn't lose consciousness at first but his head hurt enough to scare him and the room seemed to pulse in and out of focus. He decided he must have blacked out because the next thing he was aware of was the sound of a running stream.

Slowly, the pain began to lessen. He could clearly see the legs of the television stand from his viewpoint on the carpet. His stomach churned a bit but given his nearly constant nausea, he was almost used to the sick feeling. His hands were still handcuffed behind him as he maneuvered his knees beneath him. For some reason, his head refused to leave the carpet. He waited a few moments hoping more of the pain would subside. Gradually, he managed to pull his head up with the rest of his body. He put one foot solidly on the floor. As he pushed himself awkwardly up, he identified the stream noise. Jessie was taking a shower, apparently believing he was unconscious. He waited a moment for the dizziness to become manageable before he walked the few steps towards the hotel door. Turning the doorknob was going to be a problem. The deadbolt had a spring mechanism so it was necessary to hold the bolt open while turning the knob in order to open the door. He turned around and managed to turn the lock but there was not enough distance between his hands to hold on to it and grab the doorknob. He tried turning the knob first but the same problem remained true. He tried harder, stretching his fingers as far as possible but there was no way to open both at the same time.

Just as Ben decided that he would have to hold the deadbolt open, then try to break through the door rather than turn the knob, he heard the shower stop. He closed his eyes and forced himself to rhythm his breathing. He turned the bolt and slammed his back against the door. The motion crushed his arms painfully. This plan was mostly doomed from the beginning. The hinges on the door swung inward and the likelihood of breaking through the metal and the doorframe was nearly zero. He slammed into the wood again and again. The bolt slipped from his grasp. He shifted, taking it between his fingers firmly and rammed backward. By his fourth or fifth try, he looked up to find Jessie watching him. She was dressed for bed wearing blue cotton pants and a white t-shirt. She was also holding her gun.

"It's not working very well, is it?"

"No." He answered honestly.

"Why don't you come over and sit on the bed before you break something."

With no options, he abandoned his escape with a sigh and followed her direction. His arms were throbbing. His wrists were bleeding from the handcuffs. His head was pounding.

"You know," she began, sitting beside him, "if you just went with me willingly, you could save yourself all this trouble."

She disappeared for a moment to the bathroom. She returned with a lime green washcloth. Gently she washed the blood from above his left ear. He winced as she held the cloth against his head. Once she was certain the bleeding had stopped she scrambled behind him.

"If you let me go, I could save both of us a lot of trouble." He said.

She squeezed along his shoulders and upper arms looking for swelling or bleeding or a dislocated bone. She talked while she checked him over.

"When I took this job, Victoria made it sound so easy. I mean, we both had our reasons for finding you but she never told me how hard it is to look after someone. It's like having a baby around. A very willful baby."

She remained gentle and careful but her prodding was painful. Finally, she checked his wrists. She slipped some sort of cloth between the broken skin and the handcuffs. The cushioning helped considerably.

"You've never done this before?" He asked, as if all young women drugged, kidnapped and murdered.

"Well, I admit I have knack for it, but it's the little things that are getting me. With your hands behind you, you can't feed yourself. You can't drink water without my help."

"It'll be difficult to move me as well. I am double your size. You won't be able to carry me to your car. You won't be able to ship me through an airport or train terminal without raising questions. In fact, any public transportation is out of the question. It's very difficult transporting someone who doesn't want to go and even more so if that same person is being sought by the police."

"I'm not worried about that part. I can take out my little medicine bag, sink a needle in your arm and you'll wake up in her bed. I have the details all worked out."

Ben tried not to be too affected by her words. The idea of being drugged that way, not being able to stop her was terrifying. He looked out the window. The sun was nearly down. If he could get close enough to look over the edge, he could tell if jumping was possible. He knew he could survive a fairly good fall. Even if he broke a limb, he would certainly attract enough attention to...

"You're incorrigible." Jessie said, reading his thoughts. "We're on the fourth floor and there's nothing below those windows except concrete. You'll be a Mountie omelet if you jump."

All right, he thought. He could wait for another opportunity. If he didn't imagine seeing Victoria, if he didn't believe that Ray was dead, he could stay in control and wait.

Victoria. She nearly ruined his life the last time he saw her and then he nearly ruined it for her. Her hold over him had been so powerful. His own loneliness and fear that his life then would be his life always nearly propelled him to the worst decision he could make. If Ray hadn't stopped him with that one stray bullet, he would have boarded the train and gone away with her forever. The memory made him physically ill. If it caused his own death, he would not go to her now.

Ray paced around his house like a nervous cat. His chest hurt with the bruised ribs and a small headache pulsed against his temples. He hated being cooped up. He wanted to actively look for Benny. Waiting for Jessie to return was mind numbing and nerve wracking. He stayed away from the windows as much as possible. He didn't want Jessie to see him moving around if she was nearby but this only added to his claustrophobia.

He was surprised when he carefully glanced out of the front window to see Lieutenant Welsh and Frannie standing beneath the porch light.

"How are you feeling, Detective?" Welsh asked.

"Better. Any news?"

"Maybe you should sit down, Ray, there's a few things we need to discuss."

"I'll go find Ma." Frannie said.

"Miss Vecchio, I'd appreciate it if you would stay. You're part of what we need to discuss."

"Oh, I don't think we need to talk to Ray about anything that has anything to do with me, Lieutenant. Afterall, it's all over and Fraser is missing and..."

"Please stay." Welsh said gently.

Ray didn't like the way Frannie was talking around something. He didn't like the way the lieutenant was helping her. He had a bad feeling that something was seriously wrong.

"First, we found Jessie's car. The vehicle registered to the real Jessie Douglas. Inside we found our Jessie's badge and the jacket she was last seen in. The vehicle was submerged in Lake Michigan. In the trunk, we found a blanket with traces of blood on it and some jewelry belonging to the real Detective Douglas. The blood matches the real Jessie's blood type. Of course, we don't know the blood type of our Jessie."

"Do we know who our Jessie is yet?"

"We matched her prints to a Barbara Knox. She did time in the same prison as Victoria Metcalf. She was in for aggravated assault."

"You know she's not dead, right? The real Jessie Douglas probably is but this Knox woman is still out there."

"I think it's likely that Knox wants us to believe that she's dead. She probably assumes we'll blame the Constable for her death as well as yours. We also found Fraser's RCMP identification in the back seat wedged between the cushions."

Ray paced while he thought through this information. His original theory had been flawed.

"Why would she want to blame Benton for both of you?" Frannie asked her brother.

"Because we can build a better case if we have two murders to link together. She knows that even circumstantial evidence is made stronger when it's connected by a chain. It fits Victoria to a "T". She wants to destroy him completely."

"But, she doesn't know you're all right and that's going to be her downfall." Welsh said, hearing the despair in Vecchio's voice.

"Only if we can find him. What if she sets him up to look like a suicide? That sounds like her too."

"Then we have to find him first. The Constable is resilient. I'm sure he can keep himself alive until we find him."

"Wait, that's not what she wants." Francesca said. "Victoria wants him. Didn't she want him to go with her before? Didn't she risk everything to convince him to run away with her? I mean we know he was going to arrest her right off that train. You know, if Ray hadn't shot him, but she doesn't know that. Maybe she's just trying to get him to come back to her. I mean, that's what I'd do." She held up her hand, "If I was nuts and obsessed with him." Both men gave her a knowing look.

"You know, Detective, she's making sense." Francesca ignored the wonder in Welsh's voice. "And assuming your sister is correct, where does that leave us?"

Ray was thinking about Frannie's mistaken impression regarding Fraser on the day that Victoria escaped. Benny was boarding the train to go with her. He admitted it while he was lying injured on the platform and again later in the hospital. Ray shook himself free of the memory as he said,

"I don't know, Lieu. Maybe I should make a miraculous recovery. Let everybody know that Fraser is innocent and Jessie's got him. It might rattle her enough to come into the open."

"Do we want to rattle her while she's holding the Constable?"

"We have to do something. If she's acting on Victoria's orders, then she can't just kill him, right? We're assuming that's not the plan, right?"

"I agree. But, all Jessie or rather, this Knox woman has to do is continue to hide. She'll have more incentive to do that if she knows we're on to her."

"Okay. But, we're not thinking about the psycho bitch. Victoria wants me dead. I stole him from her and she doesn't like being denied anything. She might still want it bad enough to come out and get me."

"I'll arrange for a press conference. Where's the phone?"

"Right here." Francesca pointed out the phone on the end table.

"Thank you. Why don't you take your brother somewhere private and tell him everything else."

"There's more?" Ray asked looking at his sister curiously.

Jessie finished applying her first aid skills. She pushed his hair back with both hands, cradling his head like a child. Ben tolerated her touch though it sickened him. He allowed his survival instinct to take over as he reviewed some of the basics. Take care of any wounds. Even a small injury can slow you down. Sleep whenever possible. And never stop looking for a way to escape. Even when you think you've thought of everything, think again.

If Ray were truly dead, then no one would be looking for him. There was no rescue to be expected.

Jessie returned to sitting beside him. She tossed the wet washcloth into the bathroom. She kicked her feet out and stretched. Putting her hand against his chest she pushed Ben sideways.

"Come on, go to the little boy's room." She said. He sighed as he stood. He indicated his hands behind his back. "All right I'll help you." Ben gave her a horrified stare, the blush coming automatically. "Don't be a child, we're both adults." She said.

When the bathroom break was completed, she told him to sit at the top of the bed.

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish now?" He asked, feeling humiliated and not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. She placed the gun squarely against his chest and repeated her order. Ben looked into her eyes, gauging her dedication. He didn't like what he saw. Awkwardly, he pushed himself backward so he leaned firmly against the metal headboard. Jessie produced a pair of stockings from her robe pocket. She practically crawled into his lap to loop the nylon around the handcuffs and secure them to the metal frame. Once she was satisfied with his immobility, she folded the bedspread over him. She snuggled down beneath the second blanket and sheet and closed her eyes.

He leaned back against the headboard with a sigh. He twisted his wrists to see if she secured him thoroughly. This proved to be true and in addition, the headboard squeaked loudly with every motion. She woke long enough to tell him to stop struggling and to lay a hand across his lap.

Ray paced furiously in the kitchen. His mother sat at the table beside Francesca holding her hand.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me." Ray said, angrily.

"He saved your life, I thought you might..."

"Take his word over yours? Come on, Frannie, you should know better. We're family. You're my sister."

"But, you always say stuff about my clothes, about the guys I date. You told me nobody'd ever respect me. I mean, I know you'd protect me if I was really in trouble, but this..."

"You were in trouble. That guy was terrorizing you for weeks and you didn't think you could come to me?"

"She didn't do anything wrong, Raymondo."

"No, Ma, she didn't, except she didn't trust me."

"Hey, I am in the room."

"And you went to Thatcher instead of me? You trust her more than you trust me?"

"It wasn't about trust, Ray."

"And this isn't about you." His mother said sharply, "Your sister did the best she could in a very difficult situation. You should try to remember that."

"I know, Ma." He looked at his sister with her dark eyes pleading for understanding, "I know, Frannie. It just makes me crazy that he was doing that to you and I was right there and I didn't see it."

"It's all right, Ray. I didn't tell you. It just seemed like some of the stuff he said was true and that maybe the guys around the station do think things about me cause, well, I am attractive and I've been tryin' so hard to get Fraser's attention for so long and maybe, they just think I'm a, you know, not a nice girl." Ray sat down beside her. He caught her eyes with his.

"The guys think you brighten the place up. They like you. They respect you. What I say, I say because I'm your brother. Picking on you is an old habit but it's just picking, it's not what I think. And if you told me 2 plus 2 is five, I'd check with a math professor before I'd say you were wrong. I'll always take your word over anybody's, all right?"

"Really?" He nodded. "Thanks, Ray." She said, hugging him.

None of the Vecchios noticed Welsh standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat. Mrs. Vecchio invited him to sit down, then proceeded to fill bowls with mostaccioli and meat sauce. The lieutenant waited until everyone was seated before he continued.

"It's all set. I have three news stations guaranteeing they'll run the report on your recovery at their late night and morning newscasts. I also have two radio stations guaranteeing coverage during drive time. The morning Tribune will carry your story on page twelve but they said they'll give it a teaser line on page one. The hospital has specific instructions on transferring any inquiries to the station. I have the desk sergeant fully briefed on your recovery and he'll be taking the calls."

"What if she doesn't hear about it?" Francesca asked.

"Then we'll keep rousting people who hang out by the warehouses. Someone saw something. Eventually, we'll find out what."

"I don't think Benny has that long." Ray said.

Morning found Fraser still sitting against the headboard. His back and shoulders ached miserably. He was hungry, thirsty and needed to use the bathroom. His mind was clearer though. He had slept some and while exhaustion still etched borders around his thoughts, some clarity had returned. He knew the peyote was out of system.

Jessie remained sleeping. She rolled over and her straying hand returned across his legs. Ben shifted deliberately, causing the bed to rattle. Jessie opened her eyes. She stretched lazily as she gazed at her prize. She patted him on the leg before she started searching the covers for the remote control.

"I need to use the facilities." Ben said, wishing he could think of another way to get his hands released.

"In a minute." She said as she continued her search.

"It's been eight hours. We don't have a minute."

"In a minute." She said again. She gave a cheer when she found the remote and snapped on the television. "See, that's all I wanted."

She reached behind him with his hunting knife and snipped the nylon. Ben jerked forward, not realizing he had been pulling against the restraint. He slid off the bed and stood up. He indicated his hands. "I don't think so." She said and led him to the bathroom. Once inside and settled, he convinced her that he needed some privacy. She patted his head and returned to the bedroom. She left the bathroom door open.

When the news came on, Jessie was sitting with her legs crossed in the middle of the bed. She was anxious to hear about the murdered Chicago Police Detective and manhunt for a Constable in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. She didn't watch the news yesterday. She didn't want to hear their sketchy "ifs" and "maybes". She knew this morning they would have the real information.

An old picture of Ray, still in uniform, appeared in the top left corner behind a blond newswoman. She described his condition as good. She said he gave a full statement and initial reports that a Canadian Police Officer shot him were incorrect. A police photo of Barbara Knox appeared next. The news reporter said she was the primary suspect in Detective Vecchio's shooting. She added that a bulletproof vest had once again proved invaluable for the Chicago police. Jessie stared at the screen with her mouth open. She couldn't believe it. She shot him dead center in the heart. Jessie knew how to shoot. She hadn't missed. Vecchio didn't wear a vest. There was nothing in his file to indicate he ever wore a vest except in the most extreme circumstances. She couldn't believe it.

She saw movement at the bathroom door and remembered her prisoner. She got up to see if he was finished. When she went through the door, Fraser tackled her. He had managed to get his bound hands in front of him. When he rammed her, the gun skidded in the direction of the shower.

Ben was handicapped without the full use of his arms but he used his size and weight to pin her beneath his body. She was beating at him mercilessly while he shifted over her again and again to keep her trapped. He only managed to grip one hand and she was using the other to pummel him. He tried to avoid her punches as she fought wildly beneath him but there was no way to keep from getting hit. She landed a particularly hard shot to his nose and flinched at the sudden pain. His slight movement gave her the room she needed to deliver a vicious knee to his groin. The pain brought tears to his eyes and his distraction was all she needed to regain the upper hand. She shoved him off her and crawled away. He was curled up tight on the floor.

Jessie stood up in a fury. Her lip was bleeding. She kicked him hard using the heel of her bare foot against his shoulder before she picked up the gun from the floor. She slipped the weapon into the waistband of her pajamas and grabbed the still writhing Mountie by the collar of his shirt. He had managed to get himself on to his knees but his groin and stomach were still aching badly. She half dragged while he half crawled into the main room.

Pressing the handcuff key into his palm, Jessie stood back with the gun.

"Unlock yourself and get on the bed." She ordered. Ben tried to focus on her through the water in his eyes. She stepped forward and darted her heel against his calf. "Do it!"

Ben unlocked the handcuffs. The rage in her was palpable. He knew she was more dangerous in this moment than he had seen before. He pushed himself painfully off the floor and sat on the bed.

"Lock one end to the frame and the other to your wrist."

"I'm not going to do that, Barbara." He said. He knew she might kill him but he also knew that time was growing short. If he disabled himself, he might not get another chance at escape. He was surprised at her bitter laugh.

"How about if I shoot you in the knee? You won't die so she'll be happy and I'll bet you won't try to escape. Never mind, don't lock yourself in." Ben felt the cold terror assault him. She wouldn't hesitate. "Do what I said."

Ben locked himself to the bed frame.

She motioned and he tossed the key back to Jessie. Ben assessed his situation. He was sitting on the bed with one arm secured to a metal headboard. He had blood in his mouth from where the injury to his nose was dripping down this throat. He was throbbing in the most uncomfortable place and definitely not in a good way. His kidnapper was somewhere beyond furious and in total, he felt things had gotten markedly worst. Except of course that Ray was alive. He could feel good about that. Hearing the news report had given him the hope he needed to carry out his escape plan. His currently very failed escape plan.

Jessie started ranting. She made little sense as she paced back and forth, arguing with herself, blaming Fraser and Canadians for everything, including the disappearance of Atlantis, stomping her feet and yelling incoherently. She threatened to shoot him, even aimed a couple of times. And then finally she was spent. She stopped talking, reduced to pacing and rubbing her head. In exhaustion, she ended by sitting on the bed, then lying back to stare at the ceiling. Ben had been waiting for her to shoot him. He sighed quietly and rubbed his thumb across his eyebrow.

"You realize," Jessie said, "that was your last trip to the bathroom."

At Ray's house, he walked around the empty rooms worriedly. If Jessie didn't know that he cleared Benny or if she didn't care, then her plan, Victoria's plan, must still be in motion. And what could that be? If Frannie was right, would Benny be stolen away or would he go willingly? They never talked about Victoria. Maybe they should have.

"I'm thinking we have about six hours left before she gets here. Are you hungry?" Jessie asked. She had calmed down remarkably. No longer pacing or ranting, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor and flipping through a new comic book.

"She's coming here?" Ben was surprised.

"Oops, cat's out of the bag now. I thought you'd be more cooperative in here if you thought you'd have another chance out there. Thinking ahead." She said, coyly, tapping her skull. He looked away from her, his heart beating faster. "Of course, that didn't work at all, did it? Oh, don't pout. I'm going to knock you out ahead of time. She'll see you first and you'll just wake up to her. It'll be less jarring that way. She said you might be a little skittish." Ben yanked at the handcuff uselessly in frustration.

"So, are you hungry?" She repeated. He shook his head. She shrugged before returning to her comic. After a moment, she said,

"I've been thinking about Vecchio. Having him alive is a problem." Ben was expecting this.

"Your plan is void. He knows you shot him. It won't be a leap to figure out that you're not dead even if they find the car with the planted evidence. Ray will know it's a set-up and it won't take long to prove it. There's no point in continuing the charade."

"True, but she really wants him dead. And if he's not around to testify in person, well, the planted evidence could still go against you. You two were friends, people would assume he was just protecting you. I'll bet he's not wearing a vest right now."

"There'll be a police guard protecting him. We're both at large so they'll assume he's still in danger."

"Then you don't think I can get to him."

"I think you'd be foolish to try." She considered his opinion.

"You're probably right. Victoria doesn't know Ray's alive. If you're unconscious when she gets here, she won't have to know until I'm gone. I can still collect my fee and leave the country before she realizes her plan is a bust."

"You're assuming she hasn't watched the news or picked up a newspaper."

"She's not in the country. I doubt she'll be thinking about the news while she's trying not to be arrested."

Ben listened to Jessie think through the details of her betrayal. He added questions just to keep her talking. He wanted to know where Victoria was coming from since that would probably tell him their destination. They bantered back and forth for several minutes before Jessie tired of the questions. Ben learned that Victoria had a connecting flight in Toronto and she was living north of there.

Jessie glanced at her watch. She announced it was time to shower. Ben assumed she meant herself until she waved the handcuff key at him. She told him she wanted him to release himself, take off his shirts then handcuff his wrists together. Clearly learning from her previous mistake, she leveled her gun unflinchingly. Ben had grown tired of orders and humiliation. He refused to cooperate. She tried to coax him, first with politeness, then with threats. He still refused.

Ray stood up when the front door opened suddenly. Inspector Thatcher entered, looking perfect in her tailored black suit. Welsh followed behind her.

"What is it?" Ray asked, fearing the worst and not bothering about the way she burst into his home. She glared at him with all the anger she could muster as she spoke evenly.

"While I appreciate all the efforts of the Chicago Police Department, Constable Fraser is my responsibility. You should have told me your amnesia was a hoax. You should have let me in on your plans."

Welsh responded for him. "I'm sorry, Inspector. We've already discussed this. It was my operation. I felt the fewer people who knew, the better."

"I'm not one of the masses, Lieutenant. While I understand your concern for your subordinate, you should have afforded me the same understanding."

"Maybe, but since we didn't know where this was going to lead, I felt sending you regular updates was sufficient for..."

"No, Lieu, she's right." Ray interrupted. "We should have kept her in the loop."

"Well," Thatcher sighed, looking at him coolly "the past is over." Ray didn't think she was actually over her exclusion. "While you have been using tricks and traps and whatnot, I have been using my own resources to investigate Vecchio's shooting. Constable Turnbull and myself have been scouring the area around the warehouse, Fraser's neighbors, Detective Douglas' neighbors. We have questioned and re-questioned anyone who may have had contact with them. I admit we received little cooperation. In fact, several homeless people around the docks refused to speak to us at all. And some disappeared only hours after we spoke to them. But, I felt strongly that someone must have seen something. And it turns out well that we persevered. A young university student by the name of Enrique Morales was on the docks the night of the shooting. He was photographing the homeless population as a basis for his thesis. He heard a shot; I would imagine 'the shot' and ducked down behind some trashcans. He saw a woman exit the warehouse and approach what he referred to as an 'oversized, past its prime' kind of vehicle." Ray frowned at the description of the Riv. "The woman coaxed the occupant out of the backseat. He described the man as a big lumberjack type and he looked like he was drunk. The woman led him to a second vehicle, a small truck with a camper on the back. She had to struggle with him but she managed to get him inside the camper and appeared to lock the door. Then they drove away. The boy went inside the warehouse, found Detective Vecchio and called the police from a payphone."

"Where has this kid been? Why didn't he wait and give a statement?" Welsh asked.

"Because Mr. Morales is here illegally from Mexico. He was afraid to meet the police."

"How'd you find him?" Ray asked.

"I found him back at the warehouse taking more pictures."

"Why would he talk to you?"

"Because I explained that I was Canadian and had no interest in the American's foreign policy regarding illegal aliens. I also paid him a good deal of money."

"You did good work, Inspector." Welsh said, "It answers some questions. But unless you have a license plate number or a better vehicle description, I'm afraid..." She interrupted the lieutenant with an envelope of developed pictures. Inside was a clear photo of the truck and its license plate.

"Mr. Morales assures me he intended to mail this to the police."

With something to follow up, Welsh left Vecchio's house. He was murmuring something about Thatcher wasting time by not giving him the picture at the station when she arrived.

Ray stood with Thatcher awkwardly. She set her most fearsome glare on him. Then she surprised him by turning away. He knew she was still hurt and angry that they hadn't trusted her.

"Inspector." Ray said, wishing he had some other way of explaining their actions. "I'm sorry. Everything moved very fast and I just didn't think to..."

"You know, Detective, that's the problem." She interrupted, turning back around, "You didn't think. You assumed I would be of no use in finding Fraser. You have somehow convinced yourself that you are the only one who cares about him. Fraser is my second in command. He is my responsibility. I care what happens to him. You left me believing that the Chicago police were searching for him in connection with your shooting. You left me to wonder if some overzealous officer wouldn't shoot him in panic or ignorance. Wondering what terrible thing might have driven him to shoot you. I have been out of my mind with worry while you've been..."

"The same way." He interrupted, "I may have had more accurate information, but there wasn't any comfort in it. I should've told you and I'm sorry, but don't think it's been a party on this end." Thatcher stopped. Vecchio's voice was shaking. Exhaustion had led him to despair despite the new lead she brought.

"No, of course not." She said softly. She thought a moment, remembering the information contained in Fraser's file after Vecchio shot him. Fraser was still on leave when she arrived in Chicago, still recuperating from his bullet wound. She read through the case file a dozen times trying to understand the intricacies of the incident. "You were with him through that mess with her, what do you think she wants?" Ray put his hands in his pockets.

"I don't know, maybe she wants the life she thought they could have."

"But, he won't want that, will he? And when she discovers the truth, she'll..."

"I'm not gonna let that happen."

"No we won't. I'll wait for you outside." As she started to leave, he stopped her.

"I never thanked you for helping Frannie."

"It's not necessary."

"No. It is. I know I give you a bad time a lot. I think you take advantage of Benny and I think you take him for granted."

"Is this a thank you?" She asked.

"Yeah, it is." Ray laughed. "I underestimate you, Inspector. But, you came through for Frannie and I appreciate it. I guess she did too since she told you about all this." Thatcher did not confirm or deny his assumption. That was enough for Ray to know he was right.

"You're welcome, Detective. Now we should get going. The lieutenant will expect us at the station."

Jessie walked down the icy sidewalk with the wind cutting through her jacket. She held her arms wrapped around her body, shivering in the cold. Beneath her knit skullcap, her hair was wet and she could feel the chill coming in. She pulled open the heavy glass door ringing a small bell perched above it. She dusted snow off her shoulders and stamped her feet on the rubber mat.

A small woman with thin gray hair smiled at her from behind the counter. Jessie smiled back. She ordered two large bowls of potato soup and two full Italian subs with everything. She also ordered coffee to drink while she waited.

The Mountie was a bigger problem than she anticipated. Suddenly, he seemed completely unafraid of her. The gun didn't work as a threat. Even the knife seemed to leave him unimpressed. He didn't like the needle though. She had to straddle him from behind, using her legs to hold his arms down. Even then, she only managed to stick him in the shoulder. The drug took longer to work than she hoped, but eventually he passed out. She was able to lie him onto the bed then and secure both of his arms to the headboard before leaving for this errand. She didn't think he would wake but she used tape to gag him anyway.

Victoria would have to take him as is. She couldn't carry him to the shower. She pulled the wheelchair out of the closet before she left. It worked perfectly when she moved him into the room. Victoria could use it to move him out.

The old counter clerk bagged up her purchase. Jessie paid her and headed back to the truck she left at the end of the street. She didn't notice the patrol car slowing down at the corner or the officer inside as he called in her description.

Ben woke slowly. His head felt thick and heavy. He was tempted to think all of this had been a nightmare and he was finally waking. But, when he started to sit up, he found his wrists handcuffed to the bed again. He yanked at the restraints thinking that the bed was probably the same quality as the chair that lay in shambles on the floor. No such luck. The metal frame held annoyingly firm. Lying on his back with his arms above his head limited him considerably.

He tried to work himself into a better position but only managed to get tangled up in his own arms. He yelled out angrily, getting almost no sound past the tape. He yelled again. The louder he yelled, the better he felt. He yelled with all the strength inside him and did not hear the key turn in the lock. In fact, it was the chill from the open door that finally caught his attention.

"Hello, Ben." Her throaty voice resonated to a place too deep inside him to identify. He looked at her with her dark curls falling over her shoulders, her dark eyes staring into his and he held his breath. She was still beautiful but she was horrible to see. "I've missed you." Victoria said.

'I'm not going with you.' He thought. It sounded like a mantra in his head.

"I'm sorry about Vecchio. I really am. I've stopped wanting to hurt you... I have... but he was a threat to us. I mean, he shot you for God's sake. I couldn't have him out there looking for us, assuming you were kidnapped or something." She reached down and pulled the tape from his mouth.

"I'm not going with you." He gasped. She touched his face gently with her fingers.

"I see Barbara's been a bit rough with you. I asked her to treat you well but I know you can be stubborn. I'm sure she only did what was necessary."

Ben could only stare at her. Being helpless, literally at her mercy, was unbelievably frightening. He still loved her, he could feel the old scars starting to tingle. Yet, he hated her equally. He now understood how she felt about him.

"Meeting her was a miracle, really. I mean, you arrested both of us and we're both Americans doing time in American prisons. What are the odds do you think?" Victoria sat down beside him. "She was so young but so intelligent. I should have thought of this the last time I came to see you. It might have gone along more successfully. Barbara's very capable. Very adept at research and details. She's become a veritable expert on drugs and such, all on her own initiative." Victoria sighed as she touched his face.

"But, I don't want to talk about her, Ben. I just want you to understand that what I've done was to free you so we can be together. I'm not trying to hurt you." Her eyes held an emptiness he never saw before. They seemed to reflect like mirrors instead of carrying her depth.

"Using Ray, poisoning me so I was nearly mad, that was your method for freeing me?" He asked bitterly.

"Now, we can be together. You can walk away and know you're not leaving anything behind. Your career is gone. Your friends are gone. You never belonged here anyway, we both know that."

He lied back, not wanting to look at her anymore. All the pain and fear of the last couple of days settled on him at once. His body hurt. His mind hurt. His heart hurt.

"I'm not going with you." He said.

Jessie entered the room slowly. She looked at Victoria anxiously. Had he told her about Vecchio? She set the food on the table. Victoria only smiled at her with that same sad look she always wore.

"You're early." Jessie said.

"Yes, well, I was anxious."

Victoria stood up and searched in her pocket. She took out one black leather glove and slipped it on. Jessie just watched her, knowing what she planned to do. After all this, she was just going to shoot him. Victoria produced the small handgun. She fired, not blinking as the younger woman fell to the floor. Ben yelled out in surprise, shifting away from her as much as possible. Victoria sat back down on the bed and put the gun back in her pocket.

"If you won't stay with me, she's useless."

"What's happened to you? How could you just...?"

"I always could. You just didn't want to see it. You're the only one I can't seem to kill. Maybe love isn't about dying for another person, maybe it's just not being able to kill them." She leaned over kissing him hard on the mouth until neither of them could breathe. Until finally, she pulled away, gasping for air and shaking her head. She touched his cheek even as he tried to pull away.

"I can't believe we've come this far from the mountain." She said sadly. "I'll hate thinking of you in prison, Ben. But, then, maybe you can think of me while you're there. And remember why it has to be this way."

She reached across him and twisted his hand open. Placing the gun against his palm, she forced his finger around the trigger and fired another shot. Then she dropped the weapon on the floor beside the bed.

"Good bye, Ben." She said and kissed him again as she unlocked the one side of the handcuffs. She pressed the key into his still bound hand. While he struggled to switch the key over to his free hand and unlock himself, she disappeared into the hall.

A few minutes later, Ray arrived with Thatcher and Huey behind him. Fraser was leaning over Jessie looking for a pulse that he knew wasn't there.

An hour or so later, Ben sat in the back of an ambulance while the attendant finished wrapping his wrists. He was numb. They wanted to take him to the hospital but he didn't want to go. For now, he was content to stare out the back doors, watching the activity outside. The Chicago police force moved around the building in force. The attendant patted him on the shoulder as he climbed into the front seat. Meg Thatcher climbed in beside him.

"How are you feeling, Constable?" He couldn't muster his usual official voice so he nodded with a weak smile. "Of course I want you to take off whatever time you need to recover. We'll be there when you're ready to come back. With Ray's statement about Jessie, your injuries and the other evidence, you have nothing to worry about. No one will be looking to press charges against you."

"Thank you for telling me." He answered. She hesitated, hating the sadness in his eyes, the softness in his voice. She leaned over, hugging him impulsively. He hugged her back, harder and closer than either expected. Finally he pulled away. She cupped his face in her hand and smiled before she climbed out of the vehicle.

Ray arrived next. He asked him if he was ready to go. Ben nodded and followed him out. They walked side by side to the car. Neither one knowing what to say to the other. When they were safely inside, Ray turned the ignition and turned on the heat. Ben shivered involuntarily.

"You all right?" Ray asked.

"Yes. Fine. Thank you."

The rest of the drive was made in silence.

When they reached the Vecchio home, Ray started to climb out but Ben stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Ray. I'm sorry this happened again."

"Not your fault." His friend answered, settling back inside the vehicle.

"I cause her to come here. I don't invite her but..."

"Look, Benny, you didn't cause this. Victoria did. We all worked with Jessie and no one saw who she really was...well, except Dief, maybe. Is that our fault? Are you thinking if we'd checked her out more carefully, if we'd watched her more closely, none of this would've happened?"

"No, of course not, but, I knew her, it was me who should've seen..."

"No, no one's thinkin' that. Jessie or Barbara or whatever fooled all of us."

"I treated you badly."

"You weren't yourself. And look, if we're gonna have this big guilt fest, then let's be honest. I let you down, Benny. I should've taken you to the hospital instead of a stakeout. If I had they would've found the drugs, I wouldn't 've gotten shot and you wouldn't 've gotten kidnapped."

"Ray, you can't predict the future. Neither of us knew what was happening."

"That's right." Ray answered with a smile, knowing he led his friend to that conclusion. Ben realized it too. He looked at his hands embarrassed. "This isn't your fault, Benny. It just happened. We almost died, but we didn't. Now, all we have to do is move forward."

"Thither."

"Excuse me?"

"Thither. It means to move in a forward direction. We need to thither."

"It sounds like you have a lisp."

"I know."

"You're a strange man, Benny."

"I fail to see why a large vocabulary makes me strange."

"You want the wolf back?"

"Yes."

"Then shut up and let's go in. Ma's been cooking all day."

Ben wanted to sleep. Besides being exhausted, besides the pain in every muscle of his body, his mind wanted to close down. He needed to rest and put the last few weeks in perspective. But Mrs. Vecchio had put dinner on the table and he was hungry. He couldn't remember his last meal and she insisted he stay. Besides, he didn't want to take Ray away from his family and he knew his friend wouldn't allow him to walk home.

Dinner was unusually quiet. Ray's sister, Maria and her family, were still over at her in-law's house. Ray and Francesca were being polite to each other. Mrs. Vecchio reveled in the change. When Ray suggested he stay over for the night, Ben agreed. He didn't want to face the cold. He didn't want to be alone in his apartment with the snow falling outside. Falling snow reminded him too much of being trapped with Victoria on the mountain, of the sound of her voice reciting poetry.

"Oh, Benton, you look so tired. Raymondo, show him to the guest room. He needs to sleep." Mrs. Vecchio said.

"He knows where the guest room is."

"Don't argue with your mother."

Ray led him upstairs. He showed him where to find extra blankets and clean towels. Ben had seen all of this before but he listened politely and thanked him.

"You know I'm right, right? None of this was your fault." Ray said.

"Yes, I know." Ben answered with a small smile. Ray nodded and shut the door behind him.

Diefenbaker nudged him softly as he sat on the bed. Ben patted him before rising to undress. He stripped to shorts and a t-shirt and crawled into the large old bed. The springs creaked softly as he settled in.

A couple of hours after falling into a dreamless sleep, the bedroom door opened. Ben slept soundly. The wolf stood up, sniffed and settled back down. When a soft hand touched Ben's face, he leaped away nearly falling on the floor in surprise.

"Oh, Frase, I'm sorry, it's me." He blinked Francesca into focus. She was dressed in a long, flannel robe. Her hair was brushed back from her face and she wore no make-up.

"What can I do for you, Francesca?" He sputtered, not at all prepared for a surprise seduction scene.

"I just wanted to talk to you." Her voice was small, not like the bold, boisterous woman he knew.

"All right." He sat up slowly, trying not to wince. He leaned against the headboard.

"Did Ray tell you about, you know..."

"Tell me about what?"

"That new detective, not Jessie, the other one."

"The son of the lieutenant's old partner, Detective Parker, isn't it?"

"Not anymore. The lieutenant had me fill out a formal complaint against him. He's been suspended pending review and possible legal action." She was obviously quoting the last part.

"What did he do?" She studied her hands.

"He's been kind of, bothering me, since he got there."

"Harassing you?" She nodded. Ben sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Ray was really mad. He thinks I should've told him right away." Ben agreed but he didn't think criticism would help her.

"You weren't comfortable with that." He said.

"I wasn't sure he'd believe me. That's why I came to talk to you. Ray would never tell me if... you know... people thought...what I mean is... do the guys talk to you about me? The guys around the station?"

"Francesca, no one has ever said anything negative to me regarding you. To my knowledge you do a fine job at the station."

"Good. That's what I needed to know." An awkward silence followed. Francesca returned to staring at her hands. Ben watched her.

"Uh, one more thing." She said. This time she looked past him. He tilted his head, waiting silently, "You, I, uh, sort of, well, you know, kind of come on pretty strong sometimes, I mean, with you, ya know? I'm kind of pushy and I was just wondering, do I make you...do I make you uncomfortable or anything? Do I make it hard for you to come to the station, or anything like that?"

Ben was an honest man. She did make him nervous. He liked her but not the way she wanted and she did like to flirt with him. He chose to ignore it but he was not unaware of it. He thought carefully before answering.

"You do not make it difficult for me to come to the station. I would not wish for you to be anything other than who you are." He wasn't certain if he had answered her question until she smiled and hugged him. It was a sisterly hug, nothing more. The next silence was less uncomfortable but Ben felt the fullness of his injuries come back to the surface. Exhaustion and sadness swept him into their shadow.

"Are you all right?" Francesca asked.

"Yes." He answered softly.

"It was hard to see her again?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." He nodded. She took his hand for a moment. With a smile, she squeezed it and let go.

She left him in the dark. Soon, sleep followed. He was safe here. Warm and safe and with people who cared about him. Perhaps that's all he would need for now.