Author's notes: This was a challenge given to me by my sister in which I had to inclued the following: 151 kilometers, ghost, apple dumplings, paper dolls, novacane, shooting star, sign language, guilt by association, skora the gentle shark and cavaty. Phew!

Wishes
by: Jenny Hill

"Fraser, what are you doing?" Stan asked as he entered Fraser's office, which was barely big enough to house both Fraser and the wolf.

"I'm teaching Diefenbaker how to understand sign language . . . I thought it was obvious," Fraser replied.

"Well, yeah, but come on, no dog is gonna be able to understand sign language." Diefenbaker turned his head in a disapproving way towards Stan. "Sorry. . . wolf."

'Why is it this Ray just never understands the difference?' Diefenbaker thought.

"Well Ray, you would be surprised at what you can teach a dog, wolf or any animal as the case may be. I mean there have been studies where chimpanzees are able to understand sign language and sign back. Why would it be impossible for Diefenbaker to be able to do just that? Except for the signing back part of course." Fraser stood up, walked over to his closet and retrieved his coat. "You know, I once heard a story, it was a rather odd one at that," Stan gave Fraser a look as if all his stories were odd, "about a shark . . . now what did they call it? Ah yes, 'Skora, the Gentle Shark'. Now here was an animal that was capable of communicating with humans . . . as long as it wasn't hungry." Fraser laughed. "Which brings me to another . . ."

"Fraser! Could we get a move on?" Stan interrupted Fraser before he could start yet another story that would inevitably lead into another, and another, and another . . . "The time frame for this event is only so long and we still have to travel 94 miles to get there."

"That would be approximately 151 Kilometers Ray."

"Yeah, so?"

"We've got plenty of time," Fraser said, patting Stan on the back and leading the three of them out of his office. Stan just shook his head in dismay as he brought up the rear, closing the door behind him.

The sun had set an hour ago, right before they set out on their trip. Diefenbaker was lounging in the back seat of Stan's Black GTO as they were cruising down the highway. Fraser was staring up into the sky. It hadn't reached total darkness yet but it was getting there. By the time they reached their destination, it would be just the right time.

"Why are we doin' this again?" Stan questioned as he exited the vehicle from the highway.

"Ray, it will be an enlightening experience. Why, when I was a young boy, before my mum died, she took me out once and we stared for hours and hours up into the blackened sky just waiting to see one and when we did, we placed a wish upon that shooting star. I miss those days . . ." Fraser trailed off, caught up in his memories of times past.

"Fraser?" Stan began, trying to get Fraser's attention back to the present. "Did your wish come true?" Stan was curious.

Fraser remained quiet for a second or two before answering. "No."

"No? No? If it didn't work then, why is it gonna work now?"

"Well Ray, there are no guarantees in life . . . the wish is more of a symbolic gesture than anything else," Fraser tried to explain. "It gives hope to the person requesting the wish."

"What did ya wish for?"

"Don't tell him son." Fraser Sr. beckoned from the back seat. Fraser gave his father a scornful look. "We're not meant to share our feelings. Men just don't do it." Fraser just glared at the ghost figure of his father, sitting next to Diefenbaker.

"I had wished . . . this is probably going to sound silly but . . . I wished for my family to reunite. . . I missed my father very much and my mother was always unhappy when he left on his long assignments . . ." Fraser trailed off again.

"Son, now you've done it . . . I'm not sticking around for this." Fraser Sr. was gone and Fraser breathed a sigh of relief.

"And your wish didn't come true? What, did your father not come home?" Stan asked.

"Yes, my father did come home . . . but that was only because my mother died. He didn't stay too long after that."

"Woah, I'm sorry Fraser. This is probably as painful to talk about as having a cavity filled without novacane." Stan never meant to dredge up painful memories from Fraser's past but it never failed, he always seemed to be sticking his foot in his mouth.

"Oh, it's okay Ray, it was a long time ago. I have accepted my life for what it is. I just get a little melancholy over the memories. I'm quite alright." Fraser reassured Ray. "Ray, turn here."

"It is so beautiful out Ray." Fraser said as he stared up into the night's sky.

Ray was standing next to Fraser, pulling his coat tighter around himself. "Fraser, it's freezing out here. I'm gonna catch Pneumonia from standing out here in this kind of cold."

"I think that is highly improbable Ray. I do believe, in order to catch Pneumonia, you have to catch the germ first, not be exposed to sever cold and . . ." Fraser was cut off.

"Shut up Fraser," Stan said.

"Understood."

"How long have we been out here Fraser?" There was a slight shiver running through Stan's body. He could swear his teeth were chattering.

"Approximately two hours Ray, why?" Fraser took his gaze away from the sky to look at his shivering friend.

"Just wondering. . . how long till we see one?" Stan adjusted his glasses while looking up towards the sky now but he wasn't watching the stars . . . more his breath in the cold air.

"Ray, there's no time limit or schedule you can account to when looking for a shooting star. The local meteorologists give us an allotted time to look and then it is up to us to find them." Fraser returned his gaze heavenwardly.

"Ya know, when I was six, I don't remember my mom ever taking me out like this. Nope, the only thing I remember were the paper dolls she use to cut out for me . . ." Stan trailed off engrossed in his own memory.

"Paper dolls?" Fraser arched an eyebrow up when he turned to look at his friend.

"Yeah . . . well . . . mom always wanted a little girl ya know." Stan was a little defensive and embarrassed at sharing that information. "That and her apple dumplings. She made the best apple dumplings . . ."

"Ray, are you changing the subject?"

"What?" Ray looked at Fraser innocently like he didn't know what Fraser was talking about, when he actually did.

"Never mind." Fraser returned to stare at the sky. "Look Ray!" Fraser exclaimed, pointing up into the star laden sky. "There's a shooting star."

"Where?" Ray asked in a disbelieving tone. "I missed it?" Stan was slightly dismayed. "Two hours and when it happens I miss it?" Fraser stood next to Ray muttering under his breath so quietly, Ray couldn't even hear what he was saying. "Did you make a wish?"

"Mmm hmm." Fraser nodded as he looked back up into the sky.

"Well, what did you wish for?" Stan was still not looking up towards the sky.

"Ray," Fraser began, panning his line of vision down to his friend, "I can't tell you that. If I do, it might not come true."

"But, you told me the one in the car. What's the difference?"

"Yes but that one didn't come true and there is no possibility for it to either now." Fraser sighed. "Ray, if you are going to see a shooting star, don't you think you should be looking up?"

Half an hour later, a kink was beginning to form in Ray's neck from the way it was craned to view the sky. "Fraser, this is ridiculous. You saw one, can't we just leave?"

"No Ray, we are not leaving until you've experienced the excitement of this event. Now concentrate." Fraser watched Stan squint his eyes as if he could see better or more stars that way, then turned his own view back towards the sky.

"Oh!" Stan startled Fraser. "I saw one. Oh my gosh . . . it was so cool. Did you see it Fraser?"

"Yes Ray, now it's your turn to make a wish."

"Wow . . . I don't know what to wish for." Stan started to pace back and forth in front of Diefenbaker.

"Ray, it can be anything . . . wish for the first thing that comes to your mind," Fraser suggested.

"Yeah but what if it doesn't come true . . . then what?" Stan was getting worried about the decision he had to make and the possible outcome of that decision.

"As I said before, there are no guarantees. . . if it doesn't come true, we'll try again with the next meteor shower."

"Promise?" Stan seemed so unsure with that simple, one word question.

"I promise Ray."

"Ray, thank you for bringing me out tonight," Fraser said as he exited the GTO, in front of the Canadian consulate. Fraser pulled the passenger seat forward to let Diefenbaker out. "I truly appreciated it." Fraser smiled at Stan.

"No problem . . . I kind of enjoyed it too!" Stan grinned back. "Can't wait until next time." Stan was not joking either. He really wanted to do this again.

"That sounds like a plan Ray." Fraser looked into the back seat where Diefenbaker was still laying. "Dief, it is time to get out now . . . Diefenbaker!" The wolf ducked his nose under his paws and ignored Fraser.

"Maybe he's tired of the sign language lessons," Stan joked. Fraser gave Stan a stare that told him he should quit while he was ahead. "Fraser, if Dief wants to stay the night with me, I wouldn't mind."

"What about your turtle?"

"Oh, Speedy? He likes Dief, they're buddies now." Stan smiled. "Come on, can Dief spend the night . . . please?" Stan was beginning to sound like a child.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you two planned this all along." Fraser released the passenger seat to its upright position.

"Hey, not me . . . I can't vouch for the wolf but don't go doin' that guilt by association thing. Just because he wants to and I don't mind doesn't mean we planned anything." Stan sounded like he was telling the truth but Fraser knew better.

"Okay, Dief, you may stay the night with Ray but be good and don't do anything that will embarrass you or myself. Listen to Ray and I will pick you up at the precinct tomorrow afternoon." Diefenbaker perked up at the permission granted him by his companion and barked his agreement.

Fraser looked Diefenbaker in the eyes. "This was definitely planned." Fraser shook his head at the wolf's ability to get whatever he wanted. "You are definitely spoiled." Fraser voiced his opinion to Diefenbaker then turned to his partner and said, "Good night Ray."

"Night Fraser." Fraser closed the passenger door. Stan put the car in gear and sped off into the night.

"What am I going to do with them?" Fraser asked himself as he turned to head towards the front door of the consulate.

"Son?"

Fraser's head dropped. "Yes Dad?" Things were going so good, he actually thought he was going to get a quiet night out of it all.

"That Yank friend of yours, he's a good man. He didn't even laugh at you when you opened up about your feelings . . . although I did find his story humorous . . . paper dolls . . ."

"Dad."

". . . really. If your mother or grandmother ever did that well . . . I would have had to straighten them out indeed," Fraser Sr. rambled.

"Dad, even if they had, you were never around to straighten anyone out." Fraser continued his walk to the Consulate door, hoping to lose his father in the process.

"Suppose that's why I wasn't around, neither of them did do things like that . . . I wasn't needed."

Fraser kept his mouth shut about that comment. No matter how much his father thought he wasn't needed at home, Fraser Sr. didn't see just how much he really was needed, by his son. "Dad, do you mind? I would really enjoy a quiet evening . . . alone . . . if you catch my drift." Fraser inserted his key and unlocked the Consulate's front door.

"Well, I suppose I could go into my office and work on my taxes." Fraser Sr. said as he followed his son in.

Fraser sighed, "Dad, how many times must I tell you, you're dead, you don't owe any more taxes after you're dead."

"There's no reason to be cruel son, I know I'm dead. You don't think tax collectors die as well? If you think they are ruthless when alive, you should see them here on the other side . . ."

"The man's completely delusional," Fraser said under his breath.

"What was that son?" Fraser Sr. asked, with such an innocent look on his face it made Fraser feel guilty.

"Nothing Dad." Fraser closed the door to the consulate, locked it behind him and the apparition of his father then headed down the hall towards his office, his father trailing behind.

"Son, you're not mad at me are you?" His father asked as they entered Fraser's office.

"No Dad, I'm just tired and would like to get some sleep, if you don't mind." Fraser took hold of the bedroll standing in the corner, placed it down on the floor and kicked it open. "Are you staying or are you going?"

"No, I'll go. I guess there's no point in me staying if you're just going to be sleeping." Fraser Sr. walked around the desk and headed towards the closet door or as he referred to it, the door to his office. "Good night son."

No matter how agitated his dad made him, Fraser loved his father and his strange (and slightly disturbing) visits. He felt a warmth in his heart. "Good night Dad."