This story is written for the private entertainment of fans. No infringement of any copyrights held by Due South c/o Alliance is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story.

Rated G

Prequel called Winter Wonderland
Sequel called Too Quiet

Christmas Wonderland
(by Catalina Dudka - Copyright 1996)

"We have to get them back, Frasier!!"

"Now, Ray ..."

"Look at me Frasier. I look like Frosty the Snowman fercrissake!!."

"As do I, Ray."

"And for what?! A measly five bucks?!?"

"You have to admit we walked, well actually ran, right into it."

"I *don't* care!! I want blood and I want it NOW!!"

"Ray ..."

"Look Benny, I know what you're gonna say."

"You do?"

"Yes. You're gonna say that in the Spirit of the Season we should forgive and forget, right?"

"Hmmm, that is a noble sentiment Ray, but not what I was about to say."

"No?"

"No."

"Well ... what were you going to say?"

"That revenge is a dish best served cold."

"Uh?"

"An old Russian proverb."

"I thought it was Klingon."

"No, I'm sure it is Russian."

"Never mind. What did you have in mind? Wait, I got it! We'll give them those fake peanut brittle cans with the pop-out paper snakes!!! No, I gave one of those to Frannie last year. I know, how about sneezing powder?"

Fraser blinked at his friend. "Ah, yes, those are rather ... ummmm ... creative ideas Ray, but don't you think that something more, shall we say, poetic is called for?"

"Itching powder??"

The Mountie blinked again. "Nnnnno."

"What then??"

"I was thinking more along the lines of ..."

The conspiring pair ambled slowly back to the house along the path beaten in the snow by their recent assailants Frannie, Inspector Thatcher, and a troop of young visiting Vecchios.

"Let me get this straight. After dinner we suggest a breath of fresh air. We manoeuvre Frannie and the Dragon Lady under that snow-laden tree over there, then, when you give the signal, WHOOSH!! We bury the dynamic duo under tons of snow."

"Not exactly tons, Ray."

"Whatever. Is that the plan?"

"That's the plan."

"It's a good plan, Frasier." Ray complimented his partner enthusiastically by smacking him on the back.

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

With smug smiles, the pair entered into the warmth of the house and allowed Mrs. Vecchio to fuss over them.

After the traditional and plentiful Vecchio Christmas Eve dinner, most of the guests dispersed between the living and rec rooms. In the kitchen, Fraser handed the last dish to Ray who proceeded to dry and put it away. As Fraser rolled down his sleeves, he heard the approaching sound of familiar female chatter. Exchanging looks, he and Ray prepared to set their scheme in motion. Francesca entered first, followed by Inspector Thatcher and Mrs. Vecchio.

"Hey, you guys finished? Good. Maggie and I are going for a walk, you wanna come along?"

"A walk?" Repeated Fraser.

"Yes, Const... I mean Fraser. We need one. After that marvellous dinner a breath of fresh air would not be amiss."

"Sure, sure. " Ray jumped in. "That sounds great, right Frasier?"

"Yes, yes it does."

"You coming too Ma?"

"No, carissimo, I just wanted a glass of water."

Fraser and Ray couldn't believe their luck. This was going even better than their original plan!

The foursome bundled up and stepped out into the chill snowy evening. As they reached the bottom step of the covered porch, Mrs. Vecchio's voice called.

"Frannie, Margaret, maybe you should take these." She waved two pairs of earmuffs from the kitchen door.

"Sure, Ma. That's a good idea." Frannie answered.

Fraser and Ray exchanged another conspiratorial glance, savouring their soon-to-be-executed revenge, while the two women retraced their steps to the waiting Matriarch.

At that moment, a small sound that suspiciously resembled a giggle prompted the two men to look up. And before Fraser could say "Oh, Dear.", the startled pair found themselves buried under a steady avalanche of copious amounts of the cold white stuff.

Sputtering and coughing, the unfortunate partners came up for air in time to hear a sadly familiar refrain.

"Man. They fell for it again."

"Yeah. What kind of cops are they anyway?" And more to that effect.

"Raymondo, Benton, I am disappointed in you."

Sitting flat on their rumps, once again resembling proverbial snowmen, the addressed pair looked up at Mrs. Vecchio questioningly. Instead of the expected sympathy, they were served with a stern look.

"Come on, Ma, cough it up." Francesca appeared at her mother's elbow, palm out. "You owe us ten bucks each."

"Are you happy now caros, you just lost me twenty dollars."

Incredulous, Fraser and Ray watched as Mrs. Vecchio dug into her pocket and handed the bills out to her daughter and Inspector Thatcher. The women accepted the money, and while Frannie did a little victory dance, Margaret passed the bill lightly beneath her nose before putting it away, presumably to join the five dollars she had won earlier.

"Frankly Constable, Detective, I really believed you would have learned something from the earlier incident." With a provocative wink, she held the back door open for the Vecchio ladies.

"Boys, get up off that snow and come in before you catch colds." Mrs. Vecchio threw over her shoulder before entering the house.

With a moan, both Fraser and Ray threw themselves back into the snow. And where Fraser resolved never to attempt to outsmart either Vecchio or Thatcher women again, visions of itching powder, blackening soap, and even leaving-the-toilet-seat-up-every-night from now until the end of time danced in Ray's head.

The End