I'm Bound to Walk Away These Blues

by Sharon Jacobs
Rating: PG
Summary: Fraser goes walkabout, or at least tries to.
_New Ray Warning_
Diclaimer: Due South and all it's lovely characters belong to Alliance.
I'm just borrowing them, so don't sue, okay? All I have is cats anyway,
so you wouldn't get anything.
****
Fraser slung his backback over his shoulder and turned around for one
last look at the Canadian Consulate. Turnbull was standing motionless
on guard duty while small children dripped ice cream on his shoes. From
inside the soft, lilting voice of Inspecter Thatcher drifted into the
evening air as she disembowled the pizza delivery man for forgetting the
all important pineapple on her large thick-crust canadian bacon. Fraser
smiled to himself, motioned for Dief to follow and set off to wherever
his feet would take him.

****
Stanley Raymond Kowalski was not a patient man, a fact that his ex-wife
had always complained about whenever they fought, along with his sloppy
appearance, short attention span, hair, and his complete inability to
put the toilet seat down after each use. At 7:30 on a Saturday morning,
Ray was not only impatient but in a downright crappy mood.

Pounding forcefully on the door to the consulate, he shouted, "Hey
Fraser, wake the hell up! It's me, Ray." Getting no response, he
resorted to kicking the door in frustration.

"Stop it, Detective Vecchio! When you kick that door, you are
essentially kicking Canada,"

Ray turned and looked into Turnbull's angry and slightly vacant eyes,
and wondered, not for the first time, how he had ever been accepted in
the mounties to begin with. "Look Turnbull, Fraser was supposed to meet
me here 30 minutes ago so I could drive him to Springfield for some
moose convention or something. Now, I'm here waiting and he won't even
open the door. "

"Ah yes, the symposium on native Canadian wildlife. Constable Fraser has
been talking of nothing else for the last week. I wish that I could've
attended it, but I have duties," Turnbull said, pushing past Ray and
unlocking the door.
"Fraser isn't here. He requested two weeks vacation and left last
night."

"What! Just like that, without calling or anything? Where'd he go?"

"Oh, I have no idea. I'm afraid Constable Fraser doesn't confide in me,
or you either so it would appear." Turnbull smiled smugly.

Ray felt a cold shiver run down his spine, but that was from Turnbull's
smile. He muttered," Freak." and stalked away. Fraser had left with no
warning, no doubt on one of the strange adventures that only he could
get himself entangled in, which always drove Ray crazy, and worst or all
he hadn't even bothered to invite him to tag along. Ray slammed the car
door, glanced at his unshaven reflection in the reiew mirror and knew,
just knew that if he were the real Ray Vecchio that this would never
have happened.

****

Fraser sat by the side of the road, eating an apple that he had
purchased from a roadside vendor a mile back. Diefenbaker routed
through the brush, enjoying the scent of mother nature after all time
spent in the city.

Staring up at the blue sky, he tied to block out all the thoughts and
emotions that were cluttering up his mind. He concentrated on the fluffy
white clouds that were drifting by. One looked like a cat, it's back
bowed up ready to pounce, another like a castle from a fairy tale.
And then there was one that looked like Ray. not Stanley-Ray who was all
arms, legs and sharp angles, but Ray-Ray who was smooth, polished, in
his own way, and full of attitude. He snorted, and told himself not to
be silly; how could a cloud have attitude?

Fraser stretched out his legs and stood up. "Come on Dief," he said.
"Time to get moving."

****
Francesca checked her makeup in the car mirror, collected the apple pie
that her mother had baked and made her way to the consulate, wobbling
slightly on four inch heels. Reaching the door, she stopped took a deep
breath and raised her hand to knock. The door opened and Turnbull
regarded her in surprise.

"May I help you, miss?"

"Oh, uh, I'm looking for Fraser. Is he around?"

"No ma'am. Constable Fraser left last night on a two week vacation."

"What?" Francesca shrieked. "He left without telling me, I mean without
telling anyone. Where did he go? You know, in case of an emergency?"

"I don't know, ma'am. Constable Fraser doesn't tell me his plans, but
I'll be happy to help you in anyway that I can," Turnbull smiled in what
he seriously thought was a charming way. "Is that an apple pie?" He
reached out for the tempting dish. Francesca jerked it away and gave him
the patented Vecchio death-look (tm).

"Are you really a mountie?" She said contemptuously, and stormed back to
her car.
Sitting behind the wheel, fuming, she wondered if Thatcher, the Ice
Queen, had also mysteriouly, vanished on _vacation_ .

****

Ray lay on his couch watching tv, stuffing his face with junk food, and
coming to the conclusion that if the others would kill Gilligan they
wold get off that island in no time. This revelation was interupted by
Francesca's sweet voice bellowing, "Open the door, _brother_ dearest. I
need to talk to you."

"I'm not home. At the sound of the beep leave a message and I'll get
back to you later. Beep." Ray said before shoving another twinkie into
his mouth.

"This is important. It's about Fraser."

Grumbling, he bushed the candy wrappers, and cookie crumbs off himself,
and staggered to the door. "What about him?"

"And how are you today, Frannie? My don't you look nice. Would you like
to come in and have a cup of coffee? Where were you raised, in a barn?"
She squeezed past him, and looked around in disapproval at his dishevled
apartment. "Actually, this apartment looks like a barn."

"Oh, you sure got me good. I'm reeling from the force or your razor
sharp wit," Ray said, squashing a roach. "What do you want? Besides
Fraser, that is."

"Fraser is gone. Supposedly on vacation, but what if it's something
else. What if he's in trouble? He could be lying in a ditch somewhere
covered in blood." She grabbed Ray's shirt. "We've got to find him,
Ray."

"Take it easy, Frannie. This is Fraser we're talking about. You could
drop him in the middle of the antartic with nothing but a toothbrush,
and he'd be fine. In fact, that would probably be his idea of the pefect
vacation."

Francesca sniffed loudly and forced tears into her eyes. "No Ray. I know
something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones. We Vecchio's have a sixth
sense about these things. We've got to track him down before it's too
late."

Ray shifted uncertainly. "It was kind of weird of him to take off like
that without letting anyone know. We had plans for today. It's almost
rude of him not to tell me that he was leaving and Fraser is never
rude."

"Never," Francesca agreed wholeheartedly.


Ray picked up his jacket, "What are you waiting for. Fraser could be
lying in a ditch somewhere covered in blood."

Francesca followed him out the door smiling. Whatever unholy plans
Thatcher had for Fraser were about to be ruined.

****
Fraser lay in a ditch, covered in blood. Well, not completely covered,
just his knee. The teenagers who had tried to run him down had sped off
laughing and spewing profanity, while he recovered his senses. Dief
sniffed him to make sure that he was all right and licked his face
encouragingly.

"Do you plan to lay there all day?," the ghost of his father said
irritably. "That's hardly a scratch, son. You're wasting good sunlight.
You'll never get where you're going wallowing around like this."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dad," Fraser answered not opening his eyes.

"You certainly aren't. Why, I remember the time I was mauled by a bear,
got up, walked 40 miles in a blinding snow storm, just to make it to
Buck Frobisher's birthday party."

Fraser regarded the annoying spirit suspiciously and said, "You made
that up."

Fraser, sr. straightened up indignantly, "You wound me son."

"I'd like too."

"Well, pardon me for trying to help you out in your time of need. I
thought that since you were starting out on an adventure that you would
appreciate the wisdom of you father, but I guess I was wrong."

Fraser sat up, wincing. He examined his knee, carefully pulling back the
ripped denim from the injury. "I'm not on an adventure. I had the urge
to get away from it all. I don't even know where I'm going."

"That doesn't look to bad. I've certainly seen worse."

Fraser dug into his backpack for antiseptic to clean the wound. "Dad,
have you ever reached the point where nothing makes any sense anymore?
You don't know why you're where you are, or what you're going supposed
to do next?"

"Nonsense. You go where you're sent.You have duties to perform. That's
you're purpose."

Fraser grimaced. "You're not being much help, Dad."

The older mountie smiled. "Every man must find his own path."

****
He was a damn good looking man, Matilda thought as she eyed her
passenger hungrily. She had picked him up a few miles back. His knee was
banged up pretty bad where some teenagers had tried to run over him.
Damn teenagers. He didn't have much to say, this one. A brief
explanation of his situation and a thank you kindly were all he'd had to
say since she'd pulled her 18-wheeler up beside him. That was okay;
talking wasn't what she had in mind. It got mighty lonely haulng produce
across these United States.

Her thoughts were interupted by the slight growl of the dog (wolf?) that
had firmly planted himself between the two of them in the truck's cab.
"Nice dog," Matilda said nervously.

"Behave yourself," Fraser scolded. "You'll have to excuse him, ma'am.
Diefenbaker's had a very trying day."

Matilda leered sympathetically at him. "Oh, that's okay. I know how
dog's can be protective of their masters. I used to have a dog myself,
before I accidentily backed the rig over him in Kansas City a couple of
years ago. He was a fine mutt; good company." She gazed into the
slightly horrified sky blue eyes of her passenger and decided it was
time to get down to business. "There's a rest stop just up ahead. I
figure we can pull over for a bit and relax."

"Of course. I imagine it's quite tiring driving all day." Fraser
answered understandingly.

Matilda parked the big rig in the deserted rest stop. "Why don't you
let Rover out to answer nature's call while we're here." She suggested,
anxious to get the hostile animal out of her way.

"An excellent idea," Fraser agreed, opening the passenger side door.
"Out you go Diefenbaker." Dief looked at Matilda and whined. Fraser
frowned at the recalcitrant wolf and said,
"What's the matter with you?" Dief again looked at the trucker, whined
and nudged Fraser. "That's it," Fraser was exasperated by now, "Go on!
I won't have you complaining later that you have to go." He gave Dief a
push to emphasis his words. The wolf regarded his friend, and blowing is
breath out in disgust, left Fraser to meet his fate.

"Well now," Matilda said, turning sideways to get a better view of
Fraser. "We're alone."

"Ah, yes."

"You're a fine looking man. I bet you hear that alot." Her eyes roamed
his body, stopping to rest just below his belt buckle.

Fraser gulped nervously, and cursed himself for not listening to Dief's
instincts "Oh dear."

"You're in trouble now, son," Fraser, Sr. poked his head in through the
window. "She's got 30 pounds on you and you've lost blood. I say go for
your knife before it's too late."

"Don't be ridiculous!," Fraser whispered to the ghost.

"What did you say?" Matilda said, her eyes still glued to Fraser's
nether regions.

"Um, I think I should go find Dief. He's unfamiliar with this area. He
might get lost, or hurt. ." His voice trailed off as he made a desperate
grab for the door handle.

Matilda shoved him back against the seat, "Forget about the mutt, we
got more important things to think about." She seized his flannel shirt
and yanked it open, sending buttons flying everywhere.

"Wait, wait! I'm not that kind of man,' he pleaded holding his hand in
front of his face to fend off her kisses.

Matilda stopped her attack. "What do you mean you're not that kind of a
man? Are you gay or something?"

"That's a rather personal question to ask someone you've just met, don't
you think?" Fraser answered, starting to get annoyed.

"You're gay all right. I should have guessed; you're too pretty to be
straight. Well, haul your butt out. I've got a schedule to keep." She
reached across him and opened the door.

Greatly relieved, Fraser scrambled down out of the truck as quickly as
possible with his injured knee. As Matilda drove off, Dief padded up
and sat down beside the mountie. "You don't have to look so smug. It's
unbecoming." Fraser said irritably.

"You dodged a bullet there, son. Quck thinking telling her you were
gay."

Fraser rubbed his face tiredly. "I didn't tell her I was gay. She just
assumed I was."

"But you didn't set her straight, so it's the same thing."

"Why are we having this conversation? We're standing here in the middle
of Ohio, surrounded by murderous, sex crazed Americans,"

Fraser Sr. looked at his son sadly. "I was just trying to make small
talk. There's no need to get all riled up."

****
Ray Kowalski was basking in the glow of a mile-high plate of spaghetti.
Mrs. Vecchio was hovering over him clucking like a mother hen. "You're
so thin, Stanley. You should find some nice girl to take care of you and
settle down. Don't you agree Francesca?" Mrs Vecchio glared at her
daughter pointedly.

"Yeah, sure. Come on Ray, we're wasting time. we should be out looking
for Fraser." Francesca said. She regretted making Ray bring her home so
she could change clothes.

"Fraser, Fraser, Fraser, that's all you talk about!
This boy doesn't leave until he's had a decent meal. What do people
think when they see him? I'll tell you what they think; that his mama
doesn't know how to take care of him, that's what they think. Have some
garlic bread, Stanley."

"Thanks, Mrs Vecchio,"

"Call me Mama."

"Mama," Ray chewed happily, not a care in the world.

Francesca took deep calming breaths and said, "It doesn't matter what
peope think, Ma. This is not your son."

Mrs Vecchio pinched his cheek, and anwered with a smile. "Who knows what
the future will bring, eh Francesca?"

"I'm in hell!" Francesca moaned.

Ray stopped mid-chew. "Don't swear at the table. Show some respect for
Mama."


Mrs. Vecchio threw her arms around him and said,"You're such a good
boy."

****
Fraser's knee ached unbearably. He had spent the last few hours
trudging miserably along the highway, politely refusing the offers of
rides from passing motorists. It would be dark soon.
He knew he would have to stop and make camp. Usually the prospect of a
night spent under the stars would have been appealing, but now he only
felt cold, lonely, and wretched.
Too much time in the city, he told himself firmly.


A car slowed down and stopped beside him. The window rolled down and a
dark haired man regarded him questioningly. "Do you need a lift?" he
asked in a pleasant british accent.

Fraser hesitated, but it was the accent that convinced him. With a few
notable exceptions, he had always found the british to be quite
civilized. "Yes, thank you kindly." he answered limping to the car.

Dief jumped in before him, and sniffed the driver. Satisfied that he
wasn't a mass murderer, or sex fiend, he barked his approval to Fraser.

"Is this a wolf?" the driver asked.

"Yes he is."

"Ah." He held out his hand. "Benjamin Adams."

Fraser took it in a firm handshake. "Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP."

"RCMP? Aren't you a bit lost?"

Fraser answered grimly, "I'm beginning to think so."

****
Fraser stared out the window at the darkening sky. An overwhelming
sense of depression had settled on him, and he couldn't see a way past
it. He hadn't said much to Adams, the friendly brit who had give him a
ride. Normally, Fraser could talk for hours on any subject, a trait that
annoyed both Rays no end, but not tonight.

Adams regarded the mountie out of the corner of his eye. "Come on, tell
me what her name is," he said smiling slightly.

"I beg your pardon?" Fraser answered, confused.

"I've seen that expression before; you've got a broken heart. "

"I'm afraid you're mistaken. "

"So your not going to tell me her name. Okay, but it might help to talk
about it," Adams persisted.

Fraser grimaced. All he wanted to do was get to the next town, rent a
room, and take a nice hot bath. This whole adventure was not working
out at all. And now, this stranger was insisting on prying into his
personal business. It was almost enough to make Fraser say something
rude.

Taking a deep calmng breath, Fraser responded, "There is no name to
tell. I don't have a girlfriend. I don't know anyone that I want to have
as a girlfriend. There isn't anyone even interested in being my
girlfriend. Well, there's Francesca, but she's the sister of my best
friend, so that's not even remotely possible. There's Inspecter
Thatcher. She's my superior officer, which would make anything of a
romantic nature completely improper. I don't see much of Elaine since
she graduated from the academy. I imagine she's met some nice young man
on the force and forgotten all about me.." he trailed off, distracted
by Adams laughter.

"What you basically are saying is that you are surrounded by women who
are attracted to you, but you've found reasons not to pursue any of
them?"

"That's not at all what I'm saying."

"Ahh," Adams said in sudden realization. "What you're saying is that you
don't lke women."

"No!" Fraser protested hastily. "and I do wish people would quit
suggesting that. I do like women very much. I find them rather
frightening, but that's beside the point. Anyway, this has nothing to
do with why I'm out roaming the countryside, being run over by juvenile
delinquits and fondled by over-sexed truck drivers." That remark caused
Adams eyebrows to shoot up . Fraser held up his hands to forstall any
questions. "That's a long story, that I'd rather not get into right
now."

****
"Buy a vowel, you idiot," Ray shouted at the television set.

Francesca sighed in dispair. Any hopes of tracking down Fraser tonight
had been dashed
by her mother's decision to adopt Kowalski into the family. Of course,
Frannie knew that she was only doing it because she missed her own Ray
so much, but still it was irritating.

Kowalski really was pathetic, she decided, watching the two of them on
the couch, debating puzzle-solving tactics. He was skinnier than Kate
Moss, and he looked like he had slept in those clothes. And his hair! If
she didn't know better, she could have sworn that someone had attacked
it with a weed-wacker. Worst of all , was the way he ate up the
attention that his pretend mother was lavishing on him. He was like one
of the stray dogs that Ray was always bringing home when they were kids.

A commercial came on, and Mrs Vecchio excused herself to make fresh
coffee. As she started to leave, she turned to her daughter and said,
"Francesca, why don't you sit by Stanley and keep him company."

Ray patted the couch invitingly, and she snarled, "Drop dead!"

"Francesca!" her mother exclaimed in shock, "That's no way to treat a
guest. I thought I taught you better than that."

"Yeah, Francesca," Ray said so smugly that she wanted to belt him.

Mrs Vecchio pointed to the spot beside Ray on the couch and gave
Francesca an end-of-discussion look. Groaning, she sat down beside him,
making sure there was no actual physical contact.

"See this isn't too bad, now is it?" Ray smiled sweetly.

"You are fungus.'

"Maybe so, but at least I'm here, not off traipsing across the state
with nothing but a compass and some dried lichen."

She sneered at him. "You're only here for a free meal, and a little
motherly affection."

"So what? That's still more than you've ever got out of Fraser."

Francesca said nothing, knowing that he was right. The mountie had not
only never shown the slightest inteest in her, but he seemed to actively
seek to put as much distance between them as humanly possible. Even in
Canada, that couldn't be a sign of romantic interest.

"Hey Ma, hurry back. The bonus round is about to start," Ray called.

****
It was midnight, and Fraser was sitting at a booth valiantly attempting
to eat the blue plate special at Joe's Diner. He was the only customer
at the greasy establishment. The fry cook leaned against the counter,
listening to golden oldies, while a bored waitress flipped through a
copy of vogue. Fraser had parted company with Adams earlier, and now all
he wanted was to finish eating and then rent a room at the Motel 6 next
door. The way his luck had gone lately, he should have known that wasn't
going to happen.

Two armed men wearing stockings over their heards burst in. "Everybody
stay where you are. This is a stick-up!" one of them yelled.

The bored waitress looked up from her magazine in disbelief and said,
"You've got to be kidding."

"Shut up and open the cash register!" the smaller of the two demanded,
waving his gun around wildly.

Exhausted though he was, Fraser knew it was his duty to intervene.
Besides, he could smell the clearsil on the would-be robbers. The two
not professionals.

Diefenbaker looked up at him, awaiting instructions. "Stay put," he told
the wolf. Rising form the booth, he stepped forward and cleared his
throat. Instantly, the robbers turned and aimed their weapons at him.
"Pardon me," he began. "But I don't think you've thought this through
very well."

"Who the hell are you?" the little one yelled.

"I'm sorry. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Constable
Benton Fraser, RCMP. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers
of my father, and for reasons that don't need to be explained at this
juncture, I remained attached as a liason to the Canadian Consulate."

"He's a cop, Bobby!" the larger one said with fright.

"Shut up! I told you not use my name, you idiot!"

The waitress peered at them thoughtfully. Her eyes widened with
recognition. "Bobby Taggart, is that you? And Skip Hartley! Have you two
gone crazy? Well, I know one thing; I'm gonna be giving you mothers a
call in the morning!"

"Oh man! Now we're really gonna get it!," Skip wailed.

Fraser eased forward, his hands held up in front of him. "This has gone
far enough, boys. Give me the guns, and everything will be all right."

Bobby levelled the gun at Fraser. "Stop where you are cop. I'm not
going to reform school over this."

"What are we going to do?" Skip asked

"There's only thing we can do. They recognized us, so we'll have to get
rid of them."

****

It was midnight at the Vecchio household, and everyone was asleep,
except for Francesca and Ray Kowalski who were in Ray Vecchio's bedroom
pawing through his things.

"Found it!" Frannie cried in delight, and plopped down on the bed.

Instantly Ray dropped the copy of Motorweek that he had been reading,
and joined her. "What?" he asked, leaning in very close for a better
view.

"It's Ray's photo album. I found it a few months ago when I was cleaning
the room." She chose to ignore Kowalski's snort of disbelief. Instead,
she opened the album to reveal page after page of pictures of Fraser by
himself, and with Ray.

Kowalski took the album from her, and flipped through it. "Don't you
think that this is a bit odd?" he asked.

"What do you mean odd?"

"I mean odd that your brother has an entire book dedicated to pictures
of Fraser. Here he is in his red mountie suit, in jeans, oh look, this
is one of him in longjohns. I wonder when that was taken?"

Francesca slammed the book, and glared at Kowalski. "They're best
friends. It's only natural that Ray would have photographs of Fraser."

Kowalski snickered. "I had a best friend once. I had like one picture of
him and me at a cubs game, not a whole album of them, and definetly none
of him in his underwear. C'mon Frannie, you know what the rumours are
at the station."

She shook her head in vigours denial. "No. Fraser would never do that."

"And Ray?"

"Oh yeah, he wouldn't do it either." She gave Kowalski a threatening
look, daring him to disagree with her.

He held up his hand in submission and said, "Okay, okay. You've known
Ray all his life and Fraser for years. I've only known Fraser for a few
months, and I've never even met Ray, so if you say nothing is going on,
then nothing is going on."

"_Nothing_ is going on." she said firmly.

"You're right. It's just that I've been wondering about Fraser because
of some of things he's said and done," Ray looked at the ceiling
innocently.

"What things?" Francesca asked warily.

"Just little things. And the fact that he kissed me."

"WHAT?!" Francesca screeched in horror.

"It was when we were on that freighter, you know that case with the
pirates and the gold.
Well, the freighter was sinking and we were trying to find our way out.
We had to swim through part of the freighter that was underwater, and
there was a point when I wasn't able to hold my breath any longer, and
Fraser blew into my mouth. He called it buddy-breathing. I suppose it's
another one of his weird mountie things."

Francesca sighed in relief. "It wasn't a kiss then. He was saving your
life."

Ray shrugged. "I guess so. He was just blowing air into my lungs.
'Course, I can't figure out why he had to stick his tongue in my mouth
to do that, but then what do I know?"

Francesca's mouth worked, but no sounds came out. Her whole world
cumbled around her. Fraser had kissed Kowalski. He had spent every
spare moment of his time with her brother. Fraser was gay and everybody
had figured it out but her. She was drawn back to reality by the sound
of Kowalski's laughter.

"You should see your face," he managed to get out. " I was making it up!
Not about the buddy-breathing, just the tongue part."

It took a moment for her to comprehend what he was saying. Her face
flushed bright red, and through gritted teeth, she said, "You son of a
bitch."

"Take it easy, Frannie. I was only joking." Ray said apologetically.

She shoved him off the bed. "That's not funny. Get out! " As Kowalski
headed for the door, she threw the photo album at him. It struck him
right between the shoulder blades with a satisfying smack.

"Hey," he yelped angrily, and turned around to face her. "You know what
Francesca, I don't know whether Fraser is gay or not. He's too wierd to
figure out. He could be gay, straight, bi or a virgin for all I know. In
fact, I think I'll go with virgin. I'm sure it's written somewhere in
the mountie code about waiting until he's married to have sex. But
there's one thing that I do know; whatever Fraser is, he's not
interested in you."

"Get out," Frannie whispered, her fists clenched. He left, slamming the
door behind him. She listened to the sound of him stomping down the
stairs and out the front door. She walked over to where the photo album
lay on the floor. She opened it to a picture of of Fraser and Ray
standing in front of Wrigley Field. Both were smiling, and Ray had his
arm around Fraser's shoulder. Fraser looked happier than she had seem
him look in months; ever since Ray left to go undercover.

"I won't believe it. I won't," she said unconvincingly.

*****

The problem was that Fraser didn't really believe two teenage boys
would be capable of murdering three people in cold blood, just to
prevent being identified. If either of the Rays who had become
inextricably tangled up in his life, had been there, they would have
pointed out that it's a sad world we live in, and that there are people
who would kill you in a heartbeat for change to ride the bus.
Unfortunately, one Ray was under deep cover with the mob in Vegas, and
the other was sitting on the curb in front of the Vecchio house feeling
like a Grade A, number one jerk. So that left Fraser alone to handle the
problem by himself.

Bobby pointed the gun at the waitress's chest.
"Congratulations, you get to be first," he said.

"Wait," Fraser pleaded. "You don't want to do this."

"Actually, I do," Bobby answered. "I've always want to know what it
would feel like to kill someone, and now I guess I'll find out."

Fraser began to move forward, very slowly. "Listen son, think about what
you're doing. You still have a chance to get out of this. If you pull
that trigger, you're life is over."

Bobby hesitated. "You sound like my dad." The gun lowered slightly. "I
hate my dad." He swung the gun up, and fired.

A blinding hot pain pierced Fraser's right side. Somwhere in Vegas, a
certain mobster awoke from his restless sleep overcome be an
unexplainable sense of panic. On a curb in Chicago, a lonely cop felt a
cold chill run down his spine.

"Shit, Bobby! You shot him!" Skip dropped his gun and ran out the
front door.

"Come back here you coward!," Bobby yelled after his friend. He looked
at Fraser nervously.
"Shouldn't you be dead?"

"I'm happy to say, I don't think you hit any vital organs. I am,
however, losing a lot of blood." Wincing, Fraser applied pressure to the
wound to stop the flow of blood. His vision was beginning to blur and he
knew that he was in danger of losing conciousness.
Diefenbaker's growling brought him back to reality.

"I'll kill that dog! I swear I will!" Bobby screamed.

"Yes, I expect you would. Stay Dief," Fraser ordered. In the back of his
mind voices whispered,"Take him down, Benny. Take him down before he
takes you down." "Make your move, Fraser. Break the little punk's neck."
Seeming to originate from somewhere outside of his body, a tidal wave
of anger washed over him. With a roar of fury, and using the last of his
strength, Fraser hurled himself at the boy.

They crashed on a table and rolled onto the floor. Fraser pinned Bobby
to the floor, and wrapped his hands around his neck. "You little
bastard. All I wanted to do was get away from everyone for a few days,
and think about what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. That's
all. Why is that so much to ask?"

"Urggh!" Bobby sputtered.

"Hey Mountie, ease up! You''re choking him, the waitress said.

Fraser looked at his hands and at the boy's face, which was turning
blue. "Oh dear!" he said then collapsed on top of him.

*****

It was 4 a.m., and Ray Kowalski was lying in bed unable to sleep. It
had been hours since he had got the sick feeling that something had
happened to Fraser. Ray was not especially psychic; in fact, he tended
to mock such things, so he he had tried to shake off the feeling as just
nerves.

The phone rang, and he grabbed it quickly. "Fraser?"

'Why yes, Ray. How did you know it was me?" Fraser's voice sounded
disturbingly weak.

"Who else would call me at 4 o'clock in the morning?" Ray lied. "You
don't sound too good. is something wrong?"

"No, no. I'm fine. Well actually, I have been shot, but it's nothing to
worry about."

"What?! What happend? Where are you?" Ray shrieked, throwing the covers
off, and reaching for his pants.

"There's no need to get upset, Ray. I was shot while attempting to stop
a robbery. The bullet passed through me, doing only minor damage.
I should be released from hospital in a few days. I was wondering if you
could keep Diefenbaker until then. It seems the hospital has a policy
against allowing wolves in patients rooms. Rather silly if you ask me."

"Okay, I'll be right over," Ray said and slammed the phone down. A few
seconds later it rang again. Sheepishly, he picked it up. "Uh, hi
Fraser. What hospital are you in?"

****
Guilt over the way he had tormented Francesca earlier, had made Ray
swing by the Vecchio home and tell her what had happened As he had
expected, she insisted on going with him, which had meant several hours
in a car with a semi-hysterical Frannie. By the time they reached their
destination, it was all he could do to keep from throwing himself on the
first nurse he saw and begging for tranqulizers.

Frannie charged the front desk. "Where is he? The Mountie, Benton
Fraser? He was shot," she demanded.

The nurse looked at her stonily and said, "I'm afraid it's not visiting
hours. You'll have to come back later."

Ray flashed his badge. "Look Nurse Ratchet, we need to see him now. Oh
yeah, where's his wolf?"

"In the room with him. We weren't able to. . . persuade it to leave his
side. He's in room 316."

Frannie ran off in search of Fraser's room with Ray desperately trying
to keep up. "Wait up, Frannie. Damn, how can you move so fast in those
heels?"

She skidded to a halt in front of room 316. Breathing hard, Ray caught
up to her. Carefully, she pushed open the door. Fraser lay on the bed
his eyes closed, looking pale and helpless. Diefenbaker stood guard at
the foot of the bed.

As Ray and Frannie entered the room, Dief whimpered and gave them an
accusing glare.
"Yeah, I know," Ray said. "We should have been there to protect him."

Fraser opened his eyes and smiled. "Ray and Francesca. It's very nice of
you to come."

Surprisingly composed, Frannie walked over to him and took his hand in
hers. "Are you all right Fraser? We've been worried sick."

"I'm sorry to have worried you. It was my own fault, of course. I
underestimated how violent the would-be robber was. I should have known
better," Fraser said guiltily.

"Uh, Fraser, you were the one shot," Ray reminded him.

"None of that matter now," Frannie interjected. "The only thing that you
need to worry about it getting better. Is there anything I can get for
you? Magazines, toothbrush, Inuit medicine man?"

"Well, I could do with a cup of hot tea, but I don't think the nurses
would approve."

"No problem. I'll run down to the cafeteria and get you some," she said
squeezing his hand.

"I wouldn't want to break any rules, " Fraser began.

"Don't worry. I'll talk to the nurses. I'm very good with people," she
gave Ray a quelling look before leaving.

After she had left, Ray pulled up a chair alongside Fraser's bed and sat
down. "Well?" he said.

"Well what, Ray?" Fraser said evasively.

"Well what the hell were you thinking going off like that? You can't
just wander off. This isn't Canada. People don't have to be nice to each
other here. You could have been killed."

"I'm truly sorry Ray," Fraser said shamefaced.
"I didn't mean to cause any. . ."

"Stop apologizing," Ray interupted. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But you said. . ."

"Forget what I said! Why would you listen to what I say; what do I
know?" Ray threw up his hands in exasperation. "Listen Fraser, all I
want to know is, what made you go off like that?"

Fraser hesitated, then reached under his pillow and removed a postcard.
He handed it to Ray.
On the front was a picture of several half-naked showgirls. After
waiting several minutes, Fraser said, "The other side Ray."

"Oh yeah," Ray grinned and flipped the card over.

It read: "Hey Benny. I wanted to let you know that everything's fine
with me. Hope to come home soon.
RIV
PS Met a girl. It could be the real thing."

"It's from Vecchio, Right?" Ray questioned and Fraser nodded. "What's
the problem? He sounds okay."

"It's the part about meeting the girl," Fraser said quietly.

"Oh, uh, okay, so you're upset that Vecchio's met a girl. Well, uh,
there's nothing wrong with that . I mean, you know, uh, it's the '90's
and everything," Ray stammered, while saying a silent prayer of
gratitude that Frannie wasn't in the room.

Fraser shot him a confused look, then understanding lit his face and he
groaned in dismay. "Not you too! I'm not interested in Ray in a.. in a.
." he trailed off.

"Okay, okay Fraser. If you can't say it, I guess you can't do it. So if
you're not jealous over this girl, what's the problem then?"

Fraser sighed, "I'm all alone. My parents are gone, my best friend is
undercover in another city, and he's found someone he might marry, and
the city smells."

"It what?"

"It smells Ray. Garbage, pollution, people. I miss the smell of pine,
and snow," Fraser said wistfully.

"We have plenty of snow," Ray answered defensively.

"It's brown Ray. Snow isn't supposed to be brown. I only wanted to get
away for a few days and think about what I'm going to do with my life.
Then, of course, this happend."

They were silent for a few moments. Finally Ray asked, "What are you
going to do with your life?"

"I don't know."

"Are you going back to Canada?"

"I don't know, perhaps. I have to wait for Ray to get back from his
mission first. I couldn't do anything to put him at risk."

Kowalski stared at his feet, unwillng to look at Fraser. "I guess I
understand. A guy gets homesick; he should go home."

"That does seem reasonable . You would, of course, always be welcome to
visit me."

Ray laughed, "Oh yeah, I can see me mushing through the snow with my
faithful team of huskies."

Fraser looked at him thoughtfully. "Who knows Ray; you might like it.
Many people from the city have found themselves captivated by the
primitive beauty of the wild."

"Get serious Fraser. I'm not the woodsy type.
Anyway, we don't have to worry about it now. It'll probably be months
before Vecchio gets back. Hey, maybe you'll meet a girl of your own, and
decided to stay."

"Perhaps," Fraser agreed without much enthusiasm.

Francesca bounced in and handed Fraser a paper cup. "Here you go. I
didn't know what you wanted in it, so I brought everything. Sugar,
cream, lemon, honey. Just name it."

"Nothing, thank you," he took a sip. "Ah, that hits the spot. I feel
much better already."

Frannie reached over and fluffed his pillow. "I'm going to take such
good care of you Fraser. I don't plan to leave your side until you are
100% again."

"Please Francesca, don't put yourself out," he said dismayed.

"Oh, I don't mind. I want to take care of you," she purred.

"Hey Fraser, this could be the real thing," Ray snickered.

"Shut up, Ray," Fraser warned.

"Frannie how do you feel about dogsleds and outdoor plumbing?"

"RAY!!"

The End

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