Meg Thatcher walked slowly up the steps to Fraser's apartment building. She was NOT in a good mood. Fraser was taking his sweet time with the completion of his current case report. She had stressed to him that her need to have it done superseded his need to make it perfect, but her command seemed to fall on deaf ears.
As she approached the landing between the second and third floors, her ears started to pick up strange noises - like someone fighting. Thatcher could hear the sound of a chair falling over, muffled shouting and a dog barking. She quickened her pace and soon realized that all the noise was coming from inside Fraser's apartment. Thatcher raced for the door without hesitation and flung it open. Her mouth dropped open in complete shock. Across the room she could see Ray swinging his fist wildly in Fraser's direction. Unfortunately she could not stop his fist from connecting solidly with Fraser's jaw.
"Oooh", groaned Fraser, as he fell heavily to the floor, clutching his head.
"You bastard !", Ray yelled as he wound up to swing again at the figure on the floor.
Ray was prevented from completing his attack by Thatcher who managed to grab a hold of his outstretched arm.
"That's enough Detective !", she barked at Ray.
She was surprised to see Ray comply with her order. He seemed to shrink noticeably in her presence and back away towards the door.
"You leave it alone - you hear me ", he shouted at Fraser, who by this time had rolled to a semi-prone position on the floor, near the kitchen table.
"Ray, it wasn't like that", Fraser moaned. "You have to believe me".
"Yeah right," said Ray, looking disgusted and still very angry.
Thatcher didn't know who to turn to. Obviously something was very wrong - wrong enough for these two to want to hurt each other. She decided to find out how badly Fraser was hurt - he seemed to need her help more than Ray did. Ray, who looked like he could indeed take care of himself, left the apartment and stormed down the stairs two at a time.
"Fraser, are you ok ?", Meg said, as she tried to stem the flow of blood from a nasty cut over his left eye.
"God, you're a mess and so is Vecchio", she blurted aloud. "Can you stand up ?".
"I think so," said Fraser, as he turned over and slowly tried to stand up.
"My ribs...it's hard to breath", he moaned, as the two of them hobbled together towards the bed.
"Lie down and quit bleeding, you moron," Thatcher barked, out of concern more than anger. She got two tea towels out of the drawer by the kitchen sink. She soaked one in cold water and wrung it out tightly. The other she filled with ice cubes.
"Let me see", she said to Fraser, who was now sprawled on his back on the bed, clutching a blood soaked kleenex to his face.
"It's nothing", he muttered. "Just leave me alone," he said aloud, while thinking to himself "stay".
Thatcher, seeing that the bleeding had stopped, gently washed what blood and grime she could from Fraser's face and hands. She tried to ease him back against the wall at the head of the bed. Already, his eye was turning purple and swelling. His lower lip was cut and she could see a nasty looking purple welt rising along the side of his jaw.
"Your ribs - are they broken ?" , she asked, as she threw the dirty cloth across the room into the sink.
"No - bruised I guess. Don't feel like they are broken - I know how that feels", Fraser replied. He thought to himself "Ray, why ?".
"What did you mean by that ?", Meg asked him, much to Fraser's surprise. He didn't answer her. "I mean, why were you two fighting ?".
"It's a long story...takes exactly 2 hours to tell...and I don't feel up to it right now, ok ?", Fraser replied snarkily, feeling torn between being rude, insubordinate and justified.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere right now, especially with you in this condition. Besides, you owe me that report !", Meg retorted. She became visibly relaxed at the sight of Fraser lying there in bed, eyes drooping with fatigue. He seemed to be giving in to her command and to his fatigue and pain.
"Why don't you just rest a while, and we'll talk later," she said.
"Do I have a choice in the matter", he asked, with a stubborn look in his eyes.
"What do you think ?", Thatcher replied with a wicked grin. "Just close your eyes and rest a while. I'll read your report and tidy up a bit, ok".
"Mmm", Fraser muttered, eyes heavy. His breathing slowed and he seemed to fall into a deep but restless sleep.
Meg looked at him with concern and annoyance. She reached over his body and pulled the quilt to cover him. She felt his wrist to gauge his pulse and also felt his forehead with the back of her hand to check for signs of shock. "Good, no shock", she said to herself. For nearly an hour she stayed by his side, not moving, uncomfortable in the hard chair by the bed. He tossed and turned and mumbled in his sleep.
Finally she moved over to the kitchen table and withdrew her cell phone from her purse, which she had flung there in her haste to stop the fight. She dialed Ray's number, not knowing what to say or expect.
"Vecchio", came the sharp reply.
"Ray, it's Thatcher, can we talk ?".
"Look, it's personal, ok. Between me and the Mountie, ok, so butt out !"
Ray had never taken that tone of voice with her before. She decided to allow him at least that much, considering how much pressure he must be under. Besides, she was Fraser's boss, not Ray's.
"Aren't you even going to ask me how he is ?", she asked, with a twinkle in her eye, which, of course, Ray couldn't see.
"The ambulance took him away an hour ago. I'm at his apartment now, looking after Dief."
"What ? He's in the hospital ?", Ray said, with surprise and disbelief. "God, I wanted to kill him, but I didn't really want to hurt him, you know", he said mournfully.
"Well, they said I can't see him until tomorrow, so I've come back to his apartment to feed Dief. Can you help me - I don't know what he eats and there's no dog food here," said Thatcher, smiling freely now.
"Haven't you forgotten that I'm pissed off with him", snarled Ray into the phone.
"Yes, Ray, I realize that, but don't take it out on Dief, ok ?", replied Meg.
"He needs you. Can you come over later ?".
"Ok, ok - just for Dief, ok ?" came the reply.
"Good, make it after 7, then", Thatcher said, who could see Fraser begin to stir across the room.
"Yeah, ok," said Ray as he hung up.
"So, you're back among the living, are you ?", asked Thatcher, of a very groggy and rumpled looking Fraser.
"I guess so," he said. "Ow".
"How do you feel ?", said Meg. "You LOOK terrible. How many fingers am I holding up ?" she asked with great concern.
"Three, I think", Fraser replied, squinting and talking through swollen eyes and lips.
"I'm ok", he thought to himself, "been through this before - with a dead otter".
"Can you sit up ? Here, lean on me, and try to sit up. I'll put the pillow behind you."
Fraser, biting his lip and looking very pale, managed to bring himself to a more or less upright position on the bed, with a great deal of effort on his part and Meg's. He was holding back the pain, she could tell.
"You're really hurting, aren't you ?", she asked. "You should really go to the hospital, Fraser", she said sternly.
"No. NO", Fraser said with feeling. "With a cup of tea and a bit of rest, I'll be fine. Help me up, will you ?"
"What for ?", asked Meg.
"I need to go to the bathroom, and in order for me to get there, I need to be upright", he said.
Together they leaned on each other and stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom.
"The rest, I can do myself", Fraser said with a weak grin.
"Ok, I'll put on some soup or something", said Thatcher, as she walked down the hall back to his apartment.
A few minutes later, Fraser hobbled back into the apartment, holding his side and looking pale. With difficulty, he sat down at the kitchen table and sighed heavily.
"Your ribs ?", Meg asked him.
"Yes," Fraser answered, seeing there was no fooling her. "And my back too", he answered. "I think it was when I fell over the chair".
"Let me see", she said, as she turned off the stove and moved the soup pot to the back burner.
Fraser didn't know what to do. On the one hand he was REALLY hurting and was not far from giving in and allowing himself to be led away to the hospital. But on the other hand, he was filled with male pride and didn't want her to see him this way.
"I'm sorry Fraser, I AM a Mountie, but that doesn't give me x-ray vision. I'll actually need to see your back".
"Oh", Fraser said, his eyes wide open. He began to fumble with the buttons of his red Levi shirt.
He leaned forward in the chair and rested his forearms on his thighs, his head hanging down, with pain and weariness.
Meg gently lifted the shirt off his back and gasped aloud at what she saw. The purple and blue bruises looked ghastly enough, but what shocked her most was the small round puckered scar in his lower back from the bullet wound last spring. It was a terrible mistake in which Ray had shot his friend Fraser by accident.
"Come on, hold onto me. You need to lie down", Meg said with a surprisingly gentle voice.
She reached her hands to join Fraser's and gently pulled him upright into her arms. Fraser clung to her for a minute, and she didn't resist at all. "It hurts", he whispered to her.
"I know", she said.
"Thanks for staying", he said quietly.
"I know it hurts", Meg said as she held him, a bit longer than either of them expected.
"Um...I didn't exactly mean just the pain you know", said Fraser, as they slowly walked towards the bed.
"I know that too", Meg replied. "Lie on your side. I'll get some more ice."
Fraser complied wearily. Even though it hurt like hell, it helped him to know that she was going to stick around for a while, and that he wasn't alone. Even though he really didn't want to talk about what was going on with Ray. Fraser lay on his side, facing the window. Meg walked over and actually saw his muscles contract and flinch when she applied the ice to the bruises. Neither of them noticed that Ray had entered the apartment. He was already halfway across the room when Meg turned and saw Ray looking at the two of them. Ray had focussed on Fraser's back, and the bullet wound. The sight of Fraser lying there, looking bruised and broken, and especially the bullet wound, completely unhinged Ray.
"GOD", he screamed, so loud that Mr. Mustaffi heard it all the way down the hall.
Thatcher was able to react quickly enough, to see Ray's face portray all his contained and absolute agony. Fraser was slower at moving and didn't notice Ray's face.
"Shh Fraser. Just stay here and rest. I'll go talk to him", she said to Fraser. She placed her arm on his shoulder to indicate that she meant what she said. He remained where he was on the bed, frustrated, but too tired to move.
Meg ran to follow Ray out the door. Ray was running now. Down the stairs. Out the door. To his car. Away from all the pain and guilt. He had even forgotten why he and Fraser had been fighting. He jumped into the Riv., but luckily for Thatcher, he couldn't find the keys. There was just enough time for Thatcher to jump into the passenger seat before Ray gunned the engine and sped off.
"Get out," Ray roared at Thatcher. He could see through his anger that she had no plans to leave his car.
"Fine then, see if I care", he yelled as he ran a yellow light with his car.
"What's with you, Ray ? You look like you've seen a ghost !", she said sharply.
After several minutes of reckless driving and no conversation, Ray pulled over to the side of the street, near an abandoned gas station.
"What is it", Meg asked, with all the care and concern she could muster for someone she hardly knew and didn't much like.
"I don't mean your fight with Fraser. I can see that there's much more to it than that. It was the bullet wound that got to you, wasn't it ?", she pried.
"How do you do that ", Ray asked in disbelief. "Do all you goddamn Mounties have ESP or something ?".
"No", Thatcher said with a sly grin. "I just know you better than you think I do, that's all".
"Oh, you do, eh ?", Ray retorted.
"So, tell me about it. Why are you so racked with guilt. Everyone knows it was an accident, and I KNOW Fraser doesn't blame you for it. He never did. So, why do you continue to blame yourself ?", she asked, as she held Ray's gaze from across the front seat of the car.
"I can't shake it", Ray cried. "He's my best friend and I shot him. I damn near killed him !"
Thatcher, looking serious now, thought carefully about what she would say next. She could see Ray squirming at the wheel of the Riv.
"Well ?", Ray pounced on her.
"Your father blames you, doesn't he, even though he's dead ?", asked Thatcher.
"YOUR CRAZY ! Get away from me. My father has nothing to do with it", screamed Ray. "He's dead !".
"I'm right, aren't I, Ray ? You're a good man and a good friend to Fraser. And a GREAT cop !", she exclaimed, with deep meaning in her voice. "Why can't you accept that ? I wish you wouldn't diminish yourself and your friendship with Fraser. He deserves more than that. He always tries to give you more of himself than you give to him - even if he's worn out". She went on to say "You know, I think I know why he resisted so little today, Ray. You have virtually no injuries, and yet Fraser looks like you almost beat him to a pulp. He's probably got 40 pounds and 2 inches on you and could snap you like a twig if he really wanted to hurt you. But he didn't. I think he could see that you were so angry - but not with him, but with yourself. See what I mean about how giving he is ? He's that good a friend to you !". Meg sat back to catch her breath. Suddenly everything came full force and Ray couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his face. Meg's comments were completely true. Thatcher reached for Ray, across the front seat and rocked him gently in her arms for a very long time. Gradually the sobs subsided and Ray just clung to her, not unlike Fraser had earlier in the evening.
"I'm sorry. I got your sweater all wet", Ray blubbered, in embarassment.
Meg laughed and shook it off. Fraser had already had a turn with the sweater and it was probably filthy by now. "My goodness" she said to herself with great pleasure - I love these guys and they actually seem to need me for some reason".
"It's ok, Ray. Let's go home and see if Fraser's ok. He shouldn't be alone".
"Yeah, ok", said Ray, turning on the ignition.
Within 15 minutes, Ray pulled up in front of Fraser's apartment. It was almost dusk and there were no lights visible from Fraser's room. They quickly but quietly entered the apartment to find Fraser asleep on the bed, and Dief, on guard lying at the foot of the bed.
"Fraser, buddy. Wake up, ok", Ray said gently, his hand on Fraser's shoulder.
Fraser opened his eyes slowly, and he looked up in surprise at Ray and then Thatcher. Both of them seemed to have a funny look in their eyes - a twinkle, perhaps.
"What's wrong?", Fraser asked.
"Nothing", both of them replied in unison.
"Here, let me help you", said Ray, fussing to find and grab an uninjured part of Fraser's torso. "God, I feel terrible. You look like hell", Ray blurted out.
"Why, thank-you Ray", said Fraser, who was looking bruised, but alert.
"I'll turn on the soup again, ok", suggested Thatcher. "You may be on a liquid diet for a few days, Constable", she said, looking at his black and blue jawline.
Ray smiled at her as she patted Dief on her way into the kitchen.
"Uh, Fraser. Are you ok ? I mean, I'm sorry. I was just so mad at you. But not anymore, ok ?", Ray said to his friend.
"Well Ray, I don't know if I can really answer your question." replied Fraser. "Why were you so mad at me - mad enough to almost squash me with your anger ?":
"I guess I was really mad at myself. When I saw you having coffee with Angie, it all boiled up and I guess I just blew my stack. At first I was jealous, but then I saw that Angie was just the catalyst, I guess. I've been really upset and feeling terrible about shooting you. And then when I saw the bullet wound again...And my father...and Frannie...and Angie...well you know - the guilt never went away," Ray answered.
"Huh", said a very puzzled Fraser, who had long ago put aside any concerns he had about Ray shooting him.
"Well, you know...I saw you with Angie and it made me jealous. I still like her, and when I saw you two together, I got jealous. What were you doing together, if you don't mind my asking ?", Ray asked.
"Um...we were talking about you. I got her number from the Sarge at the desk and I wanted to ask her about your birthday...it is coming up next month", Fraser replied with a sigh.
"Oh. I'm sorry", said Ray, sheepishly.
Ray reached over to his friend and gently wiped Fraser's forehead with his handkerchief. Blood had dried over Fraser's eyebrow and Ray tried to wipe at that too, but only succeeded in looking clumsy. For an instant, all of Ray's residual pain and guilt showed on his face as he performed this act of love and friendship. Fraser saw it briefly, and it was gone. From both their hearts and minds. It was gone...
"I'm sorry. For all of it.", confessed Ray, one last time.
"Nuff said," replied Fraser, grinning.
Thatcher, hearing the two friends finally talking and resolving some things, called out "soup's on".
"Do you have a straw, Inspector", Fraser mumbled through his split lip.
Ray half carried, half walked Fraser to the kitchen table and not without difficulty, resisted the temptation to spoon feed his friend, the Mountie.
It was long after midnight when Ray and Thatcher had finally cleaned up the kitchen, fed and watered Dief, led Fraser to the bathroom once again, and put him to bed.
"Goodnight Ray", Fraser said with a shy smile.
"Goodnight Fraser", Ray replied with an equally happy, but shy smile.
Thatcher walked Ray to the door and was suddenly swept off her feet in a gigantic bear hug, from the man she didn't know or like all that much. She returned the warmth of the embrace and gave Ray an extra squeeze, showing her joy and approval.
"Must be that Mountie ESP", whispered Ray into her ear, as he kissed her cheek.
"Goodnight, Ray", said Meg, with a broad smile on her face.
She closed the door as Ray left, and walked to the window to wave to him down on the street below. She paused for a moment at the window, to collect her thoughts, and then walked over to the bed, where Fraser lay. Fraser was pretending to be asleep, she could tell.
"I know you're awake", she whispered to his back.
Fraser smiled and slowly rolled over to face her.
"You look tired, Inspector", he said.
"How do you feel, Fraser ?", she asked.
"Kinda worn out", he replied, hoping she would stay for a while longer. He could hardly keep his eyes open though and was fading fast.
"You should go home now", he said to her without much gusto.
"Do you want me to ?", Meg asked him, trying to hide her true feelings.
"No," Fraser replied frankly.
"Frankly ?", Meg asked. "What do you mean by that ?"
"What", Fraser asked again, this time with a laugh. "Must be that Mountie ESP again", he thought to himself. She's got it too.
She reached out to him, to squeeze his arm. "Go to sleep now. That's an order, Constable", she commanded. "I'll stay here, right beside you."
"Understood", Fraser said, with a smile, as he closed his eyes and lay his head down on the pillow.
THE END
copyright 1996
Shelley E. Reid
sereid@direct.ca