Special thanks to Jills. Her gracious editing (I would say nit-picking, but that would be unfair <g>) made this a far better story.

Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski aka Ray Vecchio shifted impatiently from foot to foot and ran an agitated hand through his spiky blond hair. 'Come on, pitter, patter, we're in a hurry here,' he grumped to himself. Ray shot an irritated glance at his watch and then directed a fierce glare across the street at his partner, Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. 'Damn it, Fraser. This snitch we're meetin isn't going to hang around all night waiting for you to help old ladies get across the street. You don't have time to earn any more Canadian boy scout badges.'

Ray rolled his eyes upward to beg the heavens for intervention. 'That old woman must be doing an inch every five minutes.' Another peek at his watch seemed to confirm it. 'Come on, come on, shake a leg, sister, ' he urged mentally. "Ya shouldn't even be out at this time of night. What are you even doing in this neighborhood?' Ray looked around, but didn't see any residential buildings in the area. 'I wouldn't even be here except for this meetin.' He shook his head.

"Fraser!" Ray barked and pointed to his watch. The Mountie looked up, waved an acknowledgment and then bent again to speak softly into his elderly charge's ear. Ray thought he would explode with aggravation. It was getting way late for the proposed meet. He was just about ready to dash into the street, throw the old lady over his shoulder and carry her to the sidewalk when his brain registered the high-pitched whine of big engines, cranked up for speed.

"Shit!" Ray barely had time to shift his eyes toward the sound before a big, fast moving sedan came careening around the corner heading straight for Fraser and the old woman. As if he were watching a movie dragging along at half speed, Ray saw his partner take a running step and thrust the woman hard in the direction of the curb. "Dive!" Ray screamed. In the pale glow of the sole functioning streetlight, he caught a fleeting glimpse of Fraser's face just as the car slammed into the Mountie's body and sent him flipping up and over the speeding vehicle. "No!!!!" Fraser landed with a stomach-turning thud back in the middle of the street. The car's glowing taillights burned red holes into the distance as the automobile continued its race down the asphalt.

Ray was already moving when the second car screeched around the corner. Fully focused on his friend's crumpled form, the detective sprinted across the remaining distance. Headlights flashed in his eyes and the roar of an 8-liter engine flooded the surrounding air as Ray desperately pulled at Fraser's body. A second hit would kill his partner for sure. Ray's mind refused to accept the idea that the Mountie might already be dead. If the driver of the second car saw the struggle happening at ground level, there was no indication. The car bulldozed on, ready to crush the two figures under its spinning tires.

Disregarding the mechanical beast charging at him, Ray gripped Fraser under the arms and used an adrenalin surge to spin his friend out of the vehicle's direct path. The combination of the spinning movement plus a glancing blow from the car's rear fender sent Ray sprawling hard onto the gritty pavement. His head banged against the road with enough force to make him see stars and give him an instant headache. As he struggled to collect his scattered senses, Ray became aware of the fading sound of the second car's engine. The driver had not stopped. A low keening noise crept across the now still street. 'A cat? No, the old lady,' Ray guessed. "Fraser!" The Mountie lay half across Ray.

"God, Fraser!" Ray changed his grip and squirmed out from under his friend's body. This side of the street lay in heavy shadow, but Ray could still see the blood obscuring the right half of Fraser's face. With trembling fingers, Ray probed his partner's neck for the carotid artery. There was a pulse. Not as strong as Ray wanted, but Fraser was alive. Quickly, the detective traced the main source of the blood to a laceration just above the Mountie's hair line. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be too severe. Even in the dim light, Ray could see that Fraser's face was badly scraped and cut. The detective bent lower over his friend and listened. Ben's breathing was rough and labored. 'Shit, please don't let his lungs be punctured,' Ray prayed as he fumbled in his jacket for his cell phone.

"Shit!" the detective yelled. His fingers recoiled when a sharp piece of jagged plastic from his shattered phone bit into his flesh. Disbelieving, he dumped the fragments of the phone out onto the asphalt. "No, damn it!!! I need help!" he screamed at the night. "I need an ambulance!" He looked around wildly at the deserted street. This wasn't an area where people hung out. No lights shone from the windows high above the street. His eyes fell back on the old woman still lying gracelessly against the far curb. Her strange caterwauling had subsided; Ray could hear her crying.

The detective scanned Fraser's body for any more visible signs of blood or trauma. 'Damn, that's broken,' he thought, wincing at the unnatural cant of Fraser's jean clad leg. "Hey, Lady...Lady...I need help over here! Help me!" Ray shrugged out of his jacket and tucked it around his partner. "Frase....my friend is hurt, we need help." Ray stripped off his sweatshirt. Mindful of a possible neck injury, Ray used extreme care in slipping a single fold of the garment under Fraser's head.

The detective glanced over his shoulder at the old lady. She had drawn herself up into a sitting position and was staring across the street at him. "I need an ambulance. Damn it, you need to get to a phone and call for help. Help. My friend needs help." 'What the hell is wrong with her?' he thought angrily. Desperate to get Fraser to a hospital, Ray scrambled to his feet and ran across the street. The woman shrank back against the light post, looking at him fearfully. In the light, Ray could see that she had a long gash on her forehead. 'Oh, shit, she's hurt, too.'

Ray forced himself to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he squatted down and smiled at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you got hurt, too. Are you okay? Can you walk all right?" The woman gave a tentative nod. "My friend is in a bad way and I need to get him to a hospital right away. My phone is broken. Can you get to a phone and call for help, please?" Ray pleaded. He stood and reached out his hand to help her up.

The woman slipped a frail hand into Ray's and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "I'll call for you," she said quietly. "He's a good boy," she added as she shuffled down the sidewalk.

"Yeah, good. Thank you. Hurry. Please hurry."

It was a cold March night, but even with just a tee-shirt, Ray didn't notice the low temperature. He also ignored the throbbing lump rising on the back of his own head. His focus was entirely on Fraser. "Hang on, buddy. Help is on its way." Ray didn't allow himself to check on the old lady's progress. It would just send him into despair to see her painfully slow journey down the street.

He weighed various options in his head. His own car was too far away. He had been leery about driving it down here and Fraser, the fresh air freak, had been quick to insist on walking. Ray couldn't leave Ben lying broken and unprotected in this neighborhood to go retrieve the car. If Diefenbaker were here, Ray could have sent him for help, but Ray's snitch was afraid of dogs and Dief had been left at the Consulate. For sure, he would stop the next car through here. He'd shoot their damn tires out if he needed to, but God only knew when someone would venture into this no zone.

An ambulance siren sounded in the distance and Ray raised his head eagerly scanning the street for the telltale flashing lights. He didn't see any lights. He only saw the old woman still moving at a snail's pace down the far sidewalk. Ray closed his eyes. "God, please help us."

A soft moan from Fraser brought Ray's attention back to his friend. "Fraser? Frase? Hey, buddy, it's Ray. I'm here. You're going to be okay. Help is coming." He groped under the jacket for the Mountie's hand. "You're going to be fine. An ambulance is on the way." Ray leaned over and pushed a damp lock of hair off his friend's forehead. Ben's eyes were open.

"Raaayyy?" Fraser wheezed.

"Yeah, Fraser, it's me. It's Ray. You're gonna be okay. Don't talk. Help is comin." Ray fervently hoped that was true. He squeezed Fraser's hand. "You're gonna be fine."

"Oooo..kkaayy."

"Yeah, okay, buddy. You're gonna be okay."

Ray wanted to hold on to that thought. Fraser was pretty well bashed up. Ray tried not to think about the terrible things that could be wrong with his friend.

"Hang on, Frase. Help is coming. You're gonna be all right. I promise, buddy, you'll be okay."

"Mmm....."

"It's okay, don't try to talk, Fraser. Got an ambulance on its way." Ray lightly patted his friend's shoulder in a reassuring manner.

"Mmmiisssuss....," Fraser's whisper ended in a groan.

"Yeah, easy, buddy, the second car missed us. You're gonna be all right. I'm right here," Ray soothed.

"N...nooo.....," Ben moved his tongue over his lips and tried again. "Missuuuss Oolliivettti," he finished breathlessly.

"Missus? Oh, the ol...the lady. You mean the lady in the street." Ray instinctively peered down the sidewalk looking for her retreating form. She was gone. "She's okay. She's fine, Fraser. You did good, buddy. She wasn't hurt."

Fraser may have nodded. It was too dark for Ray to see clearly. He did see that the Mountie had closed his eyes again.

'Where is that ambulance? Who knows what's happening to Fraser's insides. We gotta get help here.' Ray's anxiety skyrocketed upward. 'At least, the old....Mrs. Olivetti is out of sight. Help's gotta be coming.' Ray felt Fraser's hand lying limply in his own and whispered another prayer on his friend's behalf. "Hang on, Frase. Please hang on," he begged. As Ray leaned over Fraser to tuck the jacket in tighter, he heard a sinister chuckle float out the darkness.

"What do we got here?"

Ray felt an icy chill as he looked up and squinted into the deep shadows. To his right, no more than thirty feet away, three forms separated themselves from the corner of a building and sauntered in his direction. His eyes riveted on the threesome, the detective eased the gun snugged into the small of his back out of its holster and held it low, hidden by his thigh.

"Looks like you got a problem, Jack. That guy dead? You kill'im?" one of the three guys asked conversationally.

"He's not dead," Ray protested, horrified that they would think so. "He was hit by a car. There's an ambulance coming."

"Yeah, right. He's robbing that guy, Mario," another one offered. "Probably just did a deal and got lots of cash on him."

"Yeah, he killed him for the money," the third concluded.

The one named Mario shrugged. "Maybe, we'd better check the dead guy out and see what's happening here."

Ray stood up slowly and with equal deliberation brought the gun up and bulls-eyed it dead center on Mario's chest. "Back off, guys. I'm a cop. That's my partner. You got two minutes to clear outta here. I gotta an ambulance and more cops coming so this little party's over."

Mario stared at the gun, raised his hands and then started to grin. "Don't ever argue with a gun, man. Dom, Lucci, the tough guy says we gotta leave." Mario spread his hands. "Still gotta question whether you're really a cop. You don't look like a cop."

"No, he don't look like a cop to me," Dom answered as he slid farther to Mario's right. "What do you think, Luc?"

"Nah, he killed that guy and is ripping him off, " Lucci declared moving wide of Mario's left.

"You move again and I put a bullet right through your pal, here," Ray snarled. He stared hard at Mario. "You ready to die, big guy?"

It happened so fast that Ray couldn't react. Like magic, a length of chain whipped in from the right across his gun hand and sent the piece crashing to the pavement. Ray followed it, knocked to the ground by a hard tackle from the guy named Dom. As he fought with his attacker, Ray saw Lucci and Mario bending over Fraser. "Don't touch him!" Ray screamed. A punch to his head momentarily stunned him. In a daze, he saw Lucci rifling through the pockets of the jacket that had once covered Fraser. Mario had the Mountie's jacket open and was roughly searching his jeans pockets. Ray heard Fraser cry out in agony as Mario knelt on his broken leg to get better leverage.

Something snapped in Stanley Raymond Kowalski's brain. "Leave him alone!" Ray roared and took out Dom with an adrenalin powered punch to the jaw. The detective lunged over to Mario. In a fury, Ray yanked the punk off Fraser and started pummeling the young man. As his fists pounded into Mario's gut, Ray felt the slash of a chain across his back. Lucci was trying to help his pal, but Ray was in a frenzy and ignored the other tough's attempts to interfere. When Mario lay limp at his feet, Ray whirled around to take on the remaining man.

In the heat of the battle, Ray had failed to notice a dark sedan pulling up to the far curb. As Ray faced off with the chain-swinging Lucci, the car glided to a stop and two doors swung open. 'Reinforcements? Whose?' Ray didn't dare take his eyes off his attacker. With a hiss, Lucci snaked the chain towards Ray's head. It flashed wide of its mark, but out of the corner of his eye, Ray could see Dom shakily getting to his feet. Ray gave no thought to possible defeat, he had to protect Fraser no matter what.

Lucci made a feint to the left, then swung the chain hard from the right. It caught Ray high on his biceps and instantly numbed his left arm. "What are you doing, Francis Lucci?" demanded a wavery female voice. "Is that you, Dominic Vespe?"

"Shit, that's Mama O," Dom said hoarsely. "We gotta get outta here." Lucci immediately dropped his hand holding the chain discreetly to his side.

"Uh, we got us a mugger, Mama. This guy was robbing that poor fella over there," Lucci offered tentatively, waving towards Fraser.

"Yeah, we thought we were helping that guy," Dominic concurred.

Mama O, Fraser's Mrs. Olivetti, glared at the two men, like an avenging warrior from the old country. "God will strike you down for lying. That man over there, who you were trying to rob, saved my life. This man, who you were trying to beat up, is his partner."

"Mama, we didn't know," whined Dom.

"You know now," the old woman snapped. "Leave us."

"Mama, we.....," Lucci started, but the woman cut him off.

"Leave. Now," she commanded.

Ray glanced over at the third punk who was just starting to stir and noticed his gun sticking out of Mario's waistband. In two strides, Ray was there and retrieved it. "Don't forget to take this piece of shit," he said, forcefully toeing the fallen Mario.

Mrs. Olivetti frowned at Ray, but nodded emphatically. "Dominic, take Mario home."

As the detective stepped back, Dom moved cautiously forward and grabbed Mario by the arms, half carrying, half dragging him up the street. Lucci had already faded back into the shadows. Ray turned away and hurriedly knelt by Fraser.

Ray's head and arm ached and he could taste blood in his mouth, but he pushed his own hurting aside. "How ya doing, buddy?" Ray murmured as he checked his friend's condition.

Fraser was unconscious. His breathing dragged in and out in small, ragged hitches. His pulse barely registered under Ray's probing fingers. In their greedy search for his money, the toughs had torn at Fraser's clothes, leaving his jacket half pulled off and his flannel shirt ripped open. A small rivulet of blood coming from the corner of his mouth had stained the neck of his white tee- shirt. Reaching up to pull the flannel shirt closed, Ray stopped and stared in horror at the grotesque bulge swelling the top of the Mountie's tee-shirt. 'Broken collar bone,' Ray thought with a jolt. He carefully lifted one side of the flannel up and laid it very gently over the injury. He then pulled the other side of the shirt over to meet it. He was afraid to move Ben any more in case of spinal damage and decided to leave the jacket as it was.

"I called for the ambulance. They should be here soon....although they are slow to come to this neighborhood," Mrs. Olivetti said softly. Ray had almost forgotten she was there. "How bad is he?" she asked.

"Very bad," Ray growled. "Your boys hurt him more."

Mrs. Olivetti sighed. "My late husband had better control of this neighborhood than my sons do. In the old days, those three wouldn't have dared pull something like this. People could have walked safely here."

Ray didn't care. His primary concern was lying broken in this mean street. He cocked his head. Finally, he could hear a siren somewhere in the distance. "Hang on, Fraser. Help is coming," he whispered.

"Oh, my, you're injured, too," the old woman noticed. She reached for Ray's bloodied hand.

"Nah, I'm okay. I'm good," he protested, looking at his bruised and scraped knuckles in surprise

"Nonsense, look at me," Mama O demanded..

Ray reluctantly looked into her aged face and saw genuine caring. "Oh, dear, oh, dear, your poor face," she tsked and dabbed at his mouth with a lace-edged hankie. "I'm afraid you're going to have a black eye, too," she sympathized.

"Really, I'm okay. It's nuthin. Fraser....." Ray spread his hands helplessly.

"Yes, the dear, sweet boy. We'll pray that he will be all right. Randy! Bring this gentleman a coat and get a blanket out of the car," Mrs. Olivetti ordered. "One of my grandsons," she added. She leaned over and laid a small, heavily veined hand on the Mountie's chest. "Thank you, young man, for helping an old woman. Now, God will help you."

The coat and blanket arrived posthaste and Ray gratefully tucked the wooly covering around Fraser. "Put the coat on. You'll catch a chill," Mrs. O scolded Ray. The siren seemed to be getting closer. The detective shrugged into the coat, wincing as the movement strained his hurt arm.

"The doctor's coming, buddy. You're going to be all right. Just hang on." Ray heard the desperation in his voice. It seemed like Fraser had been lying in this street forever. 'You gotta be all right. You're my best friend. I can't lose you.' Hot tears pricked Ray's eyes. Blinking furiously, he looked up and saw the strobing red and white lights of an ambulance racing towards them.

Within minutes, EMTs and policemen swarmed over the area. Ray, Mama O and Randy stood back as the medics worked on Fraser. A conscientious beat cop tried to take statements from both Ray and Mrs.Olivetti, but the two were distracted by the treatment being given Fraser.

"We're ready here," a medic called out and started rolling Fraser's gurney towards the back of the ambulance.

"I'm going with him," Ray announced in a tone that dared anyone to contradict him.

"Yeah, okay, up front then," a harried tech waved at him.

Mrs. Olivetti gripped Ray's arm. "I will see you at the hospital."

"Uh....thanks. Thanks for helping Fraser and me," Ray gave her a weary smile that pulled at his cut lip. On impulse, he leaned over and hugged the little woman before dashing to the front seat of the ambulance.

The next few hours went by in a blur. Fraser was taken directly to an operating room while Ray had his own injuries treated. He'd have a beautiful shiner soon and was supposed to keep an ice bag on it. 'Screw that,' he thought and had left the thing melting on some tabletop. A nicelooking nurse cleaned up his cut lip and cleaned and treated his hands. She winced in sympathy as she examined the ugly bruising caused by Lucci's chain and the big lump gracing the back of his head. Ray was too upset about Fraser to try charming her out of a phone number. Next came filling out forms and answering police questions about the evening's events. At some point, he called the precinct and left a message for Lieutenant Welsh. He also called the Consulate and had to hang up on an hysterical Turnbull.

The waiting was the worst. Ray hated hospitals anyway and being forced to wait for information about Fraser's condition was almost too much for him. Mrs. Olivetti was there also and introduced him to several more of her grandsons whose names Ray promptly forgot. The old woman clucked over Ray's more visible wounds and assured him that the three "boys" responsible would pay for their misdeeds. Ray had a few thoughts of his own about paybacks for what they did to Fraser, but that didn't seem important now. The detective's thoughts always circled back to his friend and what was happening in that operating room. 'Hang on, buddy. Please hang on.'

Just when Ray thought his head would explode from the tension, the door to the waiting room swung open and the surgeon strode into the center of the room. "Are you here for Mr. Fraser?" he asked Mrs. Olivetti.

"I'm Constable Fraser's partner, Detective Vecchio," Ray said, insinuating himself in front of the man. "How is he? Is he gonna be all right?"

The doctor smiled tolerantly. "Mr....Constable Fraser had some fairly traumatic injuries that required immediate surgery, but it went well. Everything looks good. We'll move him into Intensive Care for a few days and watch things for about 48 hours. If he remains stable after that time, which we expect, we'll move him into a ward. Do you have any questions?"

"What's wrong with him? Why you'd have to cut on him?" Ray could handle the details now that he knew Fraser was going to be all right.

"He was hit by a car as I understand it," the surgeon raised a questioning eyebrow. Ray nodded. "The impact broke several bilateral ribs which in turn, severed some blood vessels in the chest. His chest was filling with blood. We drained it out and fixed the damaged vessels. There were also some lacerations on the liver which needed to be repaired."

"His leg?" Ray interjected.

"Yes, he had a badly fractured leg which we set. It may require the attention of an orthopedic doctor later. He also had a broken collar bone, numerous lacerations and contusions. We're treating him for a concussion, but don't see any sign of neurological damage. There doesn't appear to be any spinal injuries either. All in all, I'd say your partner bounced pretty well." The doctor smiled at his little witticism.

Ray glared at him. "When can I see him?"

The surgeon shrugged and looked at his watch. "He's in recovery. They'll situate him in the ICU in about an hour. I'll see that you're notified."

"Thank you," Ray said, extending his hand to the man. "Thank you for fixing Fraser up."

The doctor shook Ray's hand and left the waiting room. Ray sprawled into a nearby chair and closing his eyes, leaned his head gingerly against the wall. He was exhausted.

"Detective...Vecchio?" Mrs. Olivetti prodded.

Ray opened his good eye and peered at the little, old woman. "Sorry," he mumbled, "it's been a long day." He stood up again.

"Yes, I know, dear. I just wanted to say good night. I'll come by tomorrow to inquire about Constable Fraser. You take care of yourself, too." She smiled and patted his arm.

"I will," Ray grinned. He reached out and touched a light finger to the bandage on her forehead. "You take care of yourself." He drew her frail body into his arms and gave her a hug. "Good night, Mrs. Olivetti."

"Good night. By the way, dear, are your people from northern Italy?"

Ray threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah, way up north."

The End