The Beginning

Fraser left the courthouse feeling dejected. Yes, Gerard was going to prison for murdering his father; but Fraser was going to a different kind of prison. Chicago! The thought of actually living there for any length of time made him physically shudder. Maybe Russia wouldn't be such a bad posting after all.

The thought had crossed his mind not to go, but in the end he did his duty. He felt he owed it to his father, though he wasn't sure why. So for the second time he found himself walking from O'Hare to the hotel. It wasn't much, but it suited his needs until he found an apartment. Fraser threw his backpack on the floor and collapsed onto the bed. That was quite a hike even for a Mountie in excellent condition. Of course Mounties usually didn't have to contend with smog on their excursions. He already longed for the clean, brisk air of home.

Fraser glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed. It was only 5:30 PM. Too late to go to the consulate but too early to go to bed. He considered what he should do for the remainder of the evening. The thought crossed his mind to call Ray Vecchio, but he quickly squelched that thought. The American had been very generous to him. Not everyone would come to "the armpit of the frozen north" to help someone they barely knew. He certainly didn't want to impose on him yet again. Deciding to go to the diner down the street, he dug out one of his father's journals to read while he ate. He'd eaten many a meal alone so he wasn't quite sure why it depressed him so now. Perhaps it was eating alone while surrounded by people.

After dinner Fraser unpacked the few possessions he had brought with him. Once he was settled he would have the rest of his things sent; not that he had many possessions. Lying in bed he had the sense that something was missing. Finally he realized he wasn't hearing Diefenbaker snore. He was so used to hearing it that its absence was distracting. At least he would be able to pick him up tomorrow. Eventually Fraser fell asleep...dreaming longingly of the wide-open spaces of home.

The next morning Fraser found himself standing In Inspector Moffatt's office. He wasn't one to criticize his superior officers, but he failed to see how the man had risen to such a prominent position.

"Your duties will be somewhat different Constable. Since Leanne left for Ottawa I've made some changes. What is it you did around here anyway?

"Guard duty sir," was Fraser's reply.

"Really? I thought you were my deputy?"

"I am sir."

"Well, as my deputy you'll certainly have a variety of important matters to deal with. In fact you can start right now. Jasmine can't leave her desk so I need for you to pick up lunch. Do you think you can handle that?

"I am a Mountie...I can handle anything."

It had been a week since he'd returned to Chicago. He spent the days either running inane errands for Inspector Moffatt, or standing guard duty. Neither job was very satisfying. He remembered Leanne's statement "I'm a cop Fraser!" He could certainly understand her frustration. Nothing he was doing was even remotely related to police work. He fought the urge to sigh. That wouldn't do while he was standing guard. Again he thought of Ray Vecchio. He had almost called the detective to ask for a ride to pick up Dief, but again hadn't wanted him to feel obligated.

Fraser heard the bell toll the end of his shift. He signaled Diefenbaker and they headed back to the hotel. He hadn't started looking for an apartment yet. Finding one meant acceptance of his situation. Even though he knew it was illogical there was a part of him that hoped he would get to go home soon.

Another week passed. Each day ran into the other. Fraser was again thinking that Russia would be better than this. He was incredibly bored! His daily routine seldom varied. He got up, went to work, came home, read and then went to sleep. He was very familiar with the menu at the diner since he ate at least two meals a day there. Maybe it was time to look for an apartment. He had to accept that he wasn't going home anytime in the near future. An apartment meant he could cook for himself and Dief. Then he could send for the rest of his meager belongings. He hadn't brought his dream catcher and he missed having it. Every night he dreamt of his father dying and of Gerard's betrayal. He even had dreams of running Inspector Moffatt's ridiculous errands!

Detective Ray Vecchio sat at his desk in a funk. He was back to work fulltime, having fully recovered from being bombed out of a second story window, then being chased all over the frozen tundra by men trying to kill him. He wondered how the Mountie was doing. Ray's dad hadn't been much but it was still tough when he died. Fraser obviously idolized his father. How difficult must that be?

"Detective Vecchio," Lieutenant Welsh yelled from his doorway. "In my office...NOW!"

"God," Ray groaned. "What have I done now?" Ever since he'd returned to work Welsh had been riding him hard. He was obviously still annoyed with him for disobeying his orders and continuing to search for Frankie Drake. For the one-thousandth time Ray wondered how long he would be in the doghouse.

"I've got an assignment for you Vecchio," Welsh said as he closed the door to his office. "Right up your alley."

Again he groaned inwardly. The look on Welsh's face didn't bode well. Probably another crummy case that either couldn't be solved or involved lots of paperwork.

"Thank you sir. Any assignment you give me will be greatly appreciated." Ray was hoping sucking up would improve his situation.

"Can it Vecchio! You and I both know you're not going to appreciate this case. Even so, someone's got to do it. Of course your name came to mind. Have you ever heard of Jack Timmerman?"

The detective searched his memory.

"If I remember correctly he was a prime suspect in several bank robberies over the past couple of years. Never enough evidence to get an arrest warrant; let alone a conviction."

"He's suspected of being part of the gang that robbed the First National Bank the other day. They got away with over two million dollars. The powers that be think if he's followed 24/7 he might lead us to his co-conspirators and the money. Quite frankly, I give the guy more credit that that. Even so, what headquarters wants headquarters gets, so..." Welsh's voice trailed off.

This time Ray couldn't stifle his groan. "You mean I've got to follow this guy day in and day out? Do I get any kind of help"

"You'll follow him from 7am 'til he goes to sleep at night" Welsh said, with a note of apology in his voice. "We can't spare the additional manpower so you're it. You do this and the next case will be better, I promise."

"You can't fall out of a basement," Ray mumbled under his breath.

This was one of those no win assignments. Days spent following some guy with nothing to show for it when you're done. Welsh handed him the file and Ray left the office. Before heading to the car he made a stop in the bathroom. Heaven only knew when he'd have the chance to go again!

Three days he'd been following this guy. Three days of watching him shop, do his laundry and all the other mundane tasks of life. Actually, the man didn't go out much, so most of the time had been spent staring at the front of his apartment building. Timmerman certainly didn't look like a successful bank robber. The guy looked like an unmade bed. His graying hair was usually disheveled; and his clothes were wrinkled, like he'd just pulled them out of the laundry basket.

But it was his shoes that fascinated Ray. They were caked in dried mud. He never bothered to clean them off; he just walked around with mud on his shoes. Again, he thought of Fraser. He could probably just look at his shoes and tell where they had been.

It was late and the detective was exhausted. He certaily hoped he wouldn't have to do this for much longer. He saw Timmerman's light go out so he started the car and headed for home. Hopefully Ma had saved him some dinner.

The next morning Ray was heading back for another day of boring surveillance work. It was early and he was still half-asleep so he ended up taking a wrong turn. His path led him past the Canadian consulate where a Mountie was protecting the building from marauding pigeons.

"Boy they all look alike," he thought to himself. If he hadn't known better he would have sworn that was Fraser standing guard.

Ray slowed. Damn...that was Fraser!" He quickly pulled over to the curb. Still not quite believing his eyes, Ray walked right up to the Mountie and just stared at him.

"When did you get back in town?" Ray asked. "You mean to tell me that after everything I did for you, you come back to town and don't even bother to call? That's what I call gratitude!"

Fraser showed no reaction, which really irritated Ray. "When do you get off work?"

Still no response.

"How about blinking? This is like talking to a post! Blinking isn't allowed?" He was stunned that anyone would be expected to stand still for hours on end without even blinking. "Well, I've got to get to work. Not that this case is going anywhere."

It was at that moment Ray got his great idea.

"Is it true you can smell what's in mud? Because if you can there's this case I've been working on..."

He was finally forced to go into the consulate to ask when the Mountie got off work. On his way out he said, "I'll be back at eleven sharp, so don't go anywhere."

Benton Fraser found it almost impossible not to blink at Ray. He was so happy to see him! The fact that he was so pleased to see the American surprised him. It wasn't like he knew the detective well, but he was the only person Fraser knew in Chicago.

Ray had acted like he was really annoyed that he hadn't called him! It had never entered his mind that the American would actually want to talk to him. It felt good to know that he cared enough to stand there balling him out.

When the man from the airport had returned Fraser's money the look on Ray's face had been priceless. He could tell that Ray was incredulous that Fraser had loaned money to a total stranger; and even more stunned that the man had actually repaid the debt. This had brought on a lecture about being too trusting.

"That's what you get for assuming Fraser," Ray said after Fraser had explained why he hadn't called. "You assume something and you end up making an ass out of you and out of me."

"I don't understand Ray. How does my wrong assumption make both of us donkeys?"

He just looked at the Mountie. He had forgotten how literal he could be; and how unfamiliar he was with American sayings.

"Forget it Fraser."

"If you say so, Ray."

He looked around the interior of the car and asked, "What happened to the Mercedes?"

Ray winced. "It wasn't mine, it belonged to the department. While I was laid up they gave it to some undercover narcotics guy."

"I'm sorry Ray," Fraser said in a sympathetic tone.

"It actually worked out for the best, because I finally got the car of my dreams. This is a mint condition 1971 Buick Rivera. The finest vehicle ever produced by Detroit. I went all the way to Buffalo to get this baby."

Fraser was amused by the loving tone in Ray's voice as he continued talking about the car and how special it was. He couldn't even begin to understand the attraction, but if it made Ray this happy then it must be a good thing.

Ray began filling him in on the case. There wasn't much to tell so by the time they got to Timmerman's Fraser was brought up to speed.

"The problem is that I would need access to the shoes, or at least some of the mud on them, in order to tell you anything. It's not as if I can figure it out from a block away."

"I'm not stupid Fraser! I know that. I was just trying to come up with a plan to get some of the mud, but so far I haven't thought of anything. You got any ideas?"

The Mountie thought for a moment.

"You could just ask him for the mud. He might be more than happy to give some to you.

Ray looked at Fraser as if he were an idiot. "Yeah right...he's just gonna hand over mud to some stranger on the street who asks him. When pigs fly!"

"Pigs don't fly Ray. It couldn't hurt to ask."

At that moment Timmerman came out of his apartment and headed up the street. Before Ray could stop him Fraser was out of the car heading towards him. He couldn't hear the conversation, but after a brief exchange Fraser was heading back to the car with a hunk of mud. Timmerman stood there a few moments with a quizzical look on his face before heading on down the street.

"What did you say to him?" Ray asked as Fraser got back into the car.

"I told him the truth. I said I was a Mountie from Canada with an interest in different types of mud. I explained that the mud on his shoes was unfamiliar to me and asked if I could have a sample. He was more than happy to oblige."

Ray just shook his head. Leave it to the Mountie to get the mud by telling the truth; if not exactly the whole truth. Nobody else on the face of the planet could have done that!

"Well, what kind of mud is it?"

"I haven't had time to study it yet Ray. We need to go back to my hotel room. I've got my equipment there."

"Equipment? What kind of equipment does it take to taste mud?"

"I need my magnifying glass. This is unusual looking mud. Closer inspection may yield more information than licking alone could provide."

Ray again found himself staring at the Mountie. One thing was sure, it was never dull with Fraser around. You never knew what was going to come out of, or go into, his mouth!

Vecchio was saddened as he looked around Fraser's hotel room. He couldn't believe the Mountie hadn't found an apartment yet. The hotel was clean, but it was barren of anything personal. He would go nuts staying in a place like this for more than a few days; and Fraser had been here almost a month.

Fraser was busy examining the mud. Ray had no clue what he was looking for. It was probably a dead end, but it was at least worth checking out. If nothing else it gave him a chance to spend some time with Fraser. The Mountie was one of the strangest people he had ever met. Even so, he enjoyed being with him, though he didn't know why.

"Hey Fraser, what do your friends call you?"

"What do you mean Ray?"

"Just what I said. I can't keep calling you Fraser...and I refuse to call you Benton."

"My family called me Benton...or Ben, but most people just call me Fraser."

Ray thought about that for a moment. "It isn't very personal."

"It's my name."

Fraser suddenly looked up at Ray. "I think I may have an idea where this mud came from. This appears to be from some kind of organic farm."

Fraser licked the mud causing the American to shudder.

"Rich in nutrients, but no chemicals...high manure content."

Fraser licked the sample again. "Yes, this either came from an organic farm...or perhaps a nursery."

Ray fought the impulse to gag. He couldn't believe the Mountie was putting manure filled dirt in his mouth! He didn't think he'd ever get used to that. Still, it was a clue. If it came from a farm they were out of luck. That would be outside the city and out of his jurisdiction. Plus, there were probably hundreds of organic farms in Illinois. No, his best bet would be to check out the nurseries.

Ray pulled his phone from his coat pocket and pushed some buttons. A distracted female voice answered.

"Elaine! I need you to get me a list of all the organic nurseries in the Chicago area. Can you do that for me?"

Fraser could hear whoever was on the other end chiding Vecchio for making her do his grunt work.

Ray's reply was short, but not very sweet. "Just get it and call me back with the results!"

Ray slapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket.

"You know Ray, my grandmother had a saying... 'You get more with honey than with vinegar.'"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It simply means that people tend to be more willing to help you if you ask them nicely."

"Maybe it works like that in Canada, Fraser, but this is America. Here the wheel that squeaks the loudest gets the most oil. You might want to remember that."

"I will Ray. I will."

Two hours, and several lectures on courtesy, later, Ray and Fraser pulled up to the last nursery on the list. The parking lot was empty. Upon closer inspection it became apparent the building had been abandoned.

The two men looked at each other. Without saying a word they knew this was the place. Before getting out of the car Fraser turned to the wolf in the back seat. "You stay here Dief. Do you understand?" The wolf pretended to ignore him. Sometimes being deaf worked to his advantage. "I mean it Diefenbaker," Fraser said before getting out of the car.

The front door was locked. They walked around the building until they found a side door that was slightly open. They could hear voices coming from inside. Ray could pick out three distinct voices but he couldn't make out what they were saying.

He motioned Fraser to follow him back to the parking lot. "I think these may be the guys but I can't be sure. I couldn't make out what they were saying."

"They were discussing cutting Timmerman out of his share of the take," Fraser responded.

"You heard that?"

"Yes Ray. I have very sensitive hearing."

"I should say so! Okay, here's the deal. I need to call for backup. Welsh is gonna have my butt for leaving my post unless I can solve this case. I can't take them alone, so I need for you to go wait by the car and direct the patrol cars back here, okay?"

The Mountie gave Ray a hurt look. "You don't have to take them alone Ray. I'm here and more than willing to help. Plus, by the time backup gets here they may be gone."

"Fraser stop and think. You don't even have a gun! What possible help could you be? You'd only end up getting hurt or killed. Then I'd really be in the dog house!"

"I may not carry a gun but I have my brain. Your wits can be a more powerful weapon than any firearm."

The hurt puppy dog look on Fraser's face gave Ray pause. "Don't look at me like that! Okay! Okay! I'll call for backup and we'll go in. Will that make you happy?"

Ray couldn't believe he was going to do this. He really needed to have his head examined.

After calling for backup the two men headed into the building. The room was filled with long rows of tables where the plants used to sit. Crouching low Ray moved towards the sound of voices coming from the other end of the room. He motioned Fraser to go around the other way.

Ray moved down the aisle. He noticed how much dust there was. It was obvious this place had been empty a long time. Thinking about the dust wasn't a good idea. The next thing he knew he felt the horrible urge to sneeze! He knew he couldn't stop it.

"Great," Ray thought. "I'm going to die because I have allergies. What a way to go!

Fraser could see Ray across the room. It was obvious that he was putting up a valiant struggle not to sneeze but would eventually lose the fight. Before he could act the room was filled with an extremely loud

The three men turned towards Ray, turning their backs on Fraser. He jumped the man closest to him. Easily disarming him, he used his lanyard to secure his prisoner.

Ray was also attempting to bring one of the men under his control. He had to stop when he realized the third man had a gun pointed at his head. Again, he figured he was about to die. He closed his eyes and was just about to launch into prayer when he heard a low growl followed by something furry flying past him. When he opened his eyes the third man was on the floor with Diefenbaker looking at him like he just might be lunch.

After helping Ray secure his man Fraser turned to look at the wolf. "I thought I told you to stay in the car!" Dief just looked at him and made a sound that Ray thought sounded like an insult.

"I'm glad he didn't listen to you; otherwise I'd probably be dead." Again, the wolf made a noise. If Ray hadn't known better he would have thought that the wolf was actually following the conversation and making comments!

Ray looked back at Fraser. He was standing with a big dopey grin on his face.

"We got our men Ray!"

"God, what a Mountie!"

For the second time the two men stood in Lieutenant Welsh's office. Again, the lieutenant did not look happy. "I can't believe this Vecchio! I give you a simple assignment to follow this guy, and you leave your post to..." Welsh looked down at the report in his hand "let's see...you left your post to track down some mud. Am I understanding this correctly detective?"

"Yes sir," was all Ray said.

"To continue, you then took an unarmed civilian into a hostile situation, placing both of your lives in danger...have I got that right?"

Ray didn't even bother to answer. He just looked at Fraser and then at Welsh; giving the lieutenant his best hang dog expression. It wasn't having the desired effect.

"What do you have to say for yourself Vecchio?"

"Nothing sir. I was wrong and I would like to apologize for my behavior." Ray was again hoping that sucking up would help, but it didn't work any better this time around. Welsh fixed him with a look that made Ray blanch.

"If I may interject Lieutenant," Fraser said, trying to ease the tension in the room. "Detective Vecchio entered the building at my request. I may not be a member of the Chicago Police Department, but I'm not really a civilian either. As Deputy Liaison officer it is part of my duty to assist the local police whenever possible. Also, the actions taken by Detective Vecchio not only resulted in the apprehension of the suspects, but also returned over two million dollars to the people of Chicago. On a more personal note, may I just say how well you're looking? Have you lost weight?"

Welsh just stared at the Mountie. Fraser was beginning to wonder why everyone was constantly staring at him.

Shaking his head he looked back at Ray. "The Constable is right. You did solve the case. It's the way in which you solved it that has me concerned. Even so, headquarters is pleased with your performance. You'll probably get a commendation for this."

Welsh glanced at Fraser and then back to Vecchio. "Next time leave the Mountie at home...you got that?"

"Yes sir!" Ray responded as he backed out the door.

"And the wolf too," were the last words Welsh said before the door was closed behind the two men.

"Why is it every time I do what you want I end up getting in trouble?" Ray whined, looking at Fraser in exasperation.

"I don't know Ray," was all the Mountie said.

Ray looked at his watch. Five o'clock straight up...quitting time.

"So Benny, you wanna come over for dinner? I know Ma would love to see you again."

"What did you just call me?" Fraser said with a strange look on his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"You just called me Benny! Where did that come from?"

Ray thought for a few moments. "I don't know. I guess Benny just...well, don't take this personally, but you're sort of an uptight guy. Benny just sounds like someone who's relaxed and loose, that's all. Maybe if I call you that enough you'll get the starch out of your bloomers."

With a straight face Fraser responded "I don't wear bloomers Ray. If you must know I wear boxers, with just a little starch."

Ray could see the corners of Fraser's mouth go up in a slight smile. Well, the Mountie had a sense of humor after all! He certainly had his work cut out for him though; who actually starched their underwear?"

Ray threw his arm around the Mounties shoulder and laughed. "Come on Benny, let's go have a good home cooked meal!"

Later that evening Ray drove Fraser back to his hotel. Mrs. Vecchio had indeed been pleased to see him. She had obviously forgiven Fraser for almost getting her son blown up. She fussed over him all evening. It was nice, if a little overwhelming. The food had been delicious. Dief had eaten himself into a stupor. Fraser had begun to notice the wolf eating things he never would have touched up north.

"Thanks for inviting me to dinner Ray. It was very kind of you."

"Hey Benny, that's what friends do."

"Friends?"

"Yes Fraser. Friends. We are friends aren't we?"

"Of course Ray, if you would like."

"Well I would. Besides, a guy who can solve crimes by sniffing dirt might come in handy."

The grin on his face let him know that Ray was pulling his leg. Fraser grinned back at him.

"Benny, my boy, this is only the beginning. Heaven only knows what trouble the two of us can get into."

Fraser actually laughed at that. It felt good to have a friend in Chicago. Heck, it felt good to have a friend period. He was quiet for a moment before he turned to Ray. "I was wondering if you could take me to see an apartment tomorrow? I've put off getting a place for too long. If this is going to be home for awhile I'd better find a place to hang my hat...metaphorically speaking that is."

Ray looked at the Stetson sitting on Fraser's head. "What metaphorical? You've got a really big hat to hang!"

As they pulled up to the hotel Ray added, "I'll pick you up after your shift. We'll go check out some apartments and grab some lunch, okay?"

Fraser simply nodded his head and got out of the car. Putting his head through the open car winder he said, "Good night Ray. Thanks for everything."

He stood and watched the Riv pull away. Again, he felt a contentment he hadn't felt for a very long time. Chicago wasn't the territories, but at least it was better than Russia...now that he had a friend.

Later Fraser was stretched out in bed with Diefenbaker snoring noisily beside him. For the first time since coming to Chicago the Mountie was sleeping peacefully. There would be no bad dreams tonight. Ray had been right. This was only the beginning...

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