Back To Back To The Basics

a.k.a. Let's Try This Again

by Jackie

pixie7@gte.net

Lynda sat at her desk, reading a travel brochure about Greece. It had been a week since her involvement with Steins and Cunningham. She still remembered what she had said about needing a vacation. So, the first chance she got upon getting back to Chicago, Lynda contacted a local, reputable travel agency, who sent her a package full of vacation hot-spots. Hawaii, Florida, France, Greece, Australia . . . they were all nice places. Lynda remembered traveling to them when her mother was still alive, but they just didn't sound like the right places she wanted to go, not for what she wanted to do, anyway. 'Someplace quiet, with no distractions'. That was what she wanted. A quite, relaxing, tranquil place. But where?

Suddenly, she remembered what Fraser had said when she asked him where he thought

she would enjoy a vacation. The Yukon. 'It's perfectly quiet, tranquil,' he had said. She had never been that far north into Canada. When she had traveled with her mom, they stuck toward the southern part of the country. Mostly because there wasn't much need for computer systems in the Northwest Territories. Toronto, yes, Ottawa, yes, Montreal, yes . . . Moose Jaw, no, Inuvik, no, Tuktoyaktuk, no. Still, she was intrigued and decided to question Fraser more.

She looked up and saw Fraser near Ray's desk, but he wasn't talking to Ray. He was peeing at a light bulb that was flickering. Even after four months of being around Fraser, Lynda could still never fully understand the Mountie's way of thinking, but she was learning. She considered herself very open-minded, unlike her father at times, and was always willing to learn new things. Needless to say, she had learned - and still was learning - a lot from Fraser.

Smiling, she walked up to Fraser. "Hey, Fraser, can I talk to you?"

Fraser looked at her. "Of course, Lynda. What's on your mind?"

Lynda glanced down at Ray, who was immersed in a case file. "Somewhere else, maybe a

little more private?"

"Sure." Lynda followed Fraser as he walked down one of the Precinct's narrow hallways.

They stopped in from of the supply closet. Fraser opened the door. "Ladies first."

"The closet?" Lynda stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Quite serious," Fraser answered. "It's very private."

Lynda rolled her eyes and stepped in. Fraser followed, then shut the door, flooding the small closet into total darkness. "Fraser, do you remember a week ago when you said the Yukon would be a good place for me to take a vacation?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, you piqued my curiosity. Why do you think I would enjoy a vacation in the

Yukon?"

"You said you wanted a place with no distractions," Fraser answered. "The vast

wilderness, where you only have yourself for company, the quiet stillness of the snow-covered landscape, really being able to be free and not feel crowded."

Lynda couldn't see him, but she could swear she heard wistfulness in Fraser's

voice. "It sounds wonderful."

"It is. My father owned a cabin in the middle of nowhere, where there was no

form of communication, and he had to do everything himself: get wood, hunt game, etc."

"Does this cabin still exist?"

"No," Fraser answered quietly. "It was burned down awhile back." He chuckled

softly. "Ray and I even attempted one time to go north and rebuild it, but we weren't able to."

"What happened?"

"To put it simply, our plane was highjacked by an escaped prisoner posing as a

pilot, he caused the plane to crash, I became blind and loss the use of my legs, and Ray had to lead us to a river so we could get home, all while the 'pilot' was tracking us. We never decided to go back. I think Ray had enough of camping from that experience to last him a lifetime."

Lynda sat for a few moments, thinking. "You know what?" she asked. "I think

I've finally decided where I'm going to go."

"Where?"

"Up to your father's cabin."

"Lynda, it's not there," Fraser replied gently.

"We could rebuild it."

"The two of us?"

"Well, yeah, and Dad and Ray, too. I'm sure we could all use some time off, and

besides, it'll be a good way for us to do something together." Lynda laughed wryly. "To tell you the truth, I really don't remember when we got together and nothing bad happened."

"Point taken." Fraser thought about that. "Could you handle it?"

"I could learn."

"There is no electricity, no computers, no running water, no -"

"Fraser, look, I may have lived the high life most of my life, but I have been

camping before. When I was nine Mom, Charles, and I hiked three miles to a clearing in a forest about twenty miles north of here - with everything we needed on our backs - and braved Mother Nature for one week. I learned how to use Morris Code with a flashlight, how to fish, how to pitch a tent, First Aid, and other survival skills. I think I could manage."

Fraser was impressed. "Well, I guess there's only one thing to do."

"What's that?"

"Convince Ray and your father to join us."

Together, they left the closet and went back to Ray's desk. Ray was still sitting,

but Stanley was now with him. They were discussing boxing.

"Hey, guys," Lynda interrupted. "Fraser and I have a proposition to make.

We're going to go north and rebuild Fraser's father's cabin, and we want you both to come with us."

"No thank you, Lynda," Ray shook his head. "I am *not* going to take the

chance of being in a plane crash with you again, Benny."

"Ray, the odds of that happening again are very slim."

"I'm still not going."

"Ray, you owe me, remember?" Lynda smirked. "You said you would make it up

to me for shooting my ear, no matter what."

"You did promise," Stanley teased his partner. "What, you gonna go back on

your word?"

Ray glared at Stanley. He looked at Lynda, then sighed. He was an honorable

person, someone who always kept his promises. "Fine, I'll go. But if anything even remotely happens that endangers me, I'm going to take my gun out and shoot myself."

"Thanks, Ray," Lynda smiled before kissing him on the cheek. "Now, Dad -"

"I don't think so," Stanley interrupted his daughter. "Every time I leave the city, I

get this rash. Really horrible."

"Yeah right," Lynda rolled her eyes.

"Besides, I don't like camping. In fact, I hate it."

"Aw, Dad, come on. We all need a vacation."

"Yeah, well, I don't consider dogsleding, chopping down trees, building a lousy

cabin, and spending all your time in snow and sub-freezing temperatures to be a vacation."

Lynda looked hurt. This was the first time her father flat-out refused to do

something with her. He always tried to spend as much time with her as possible, trying to catch up on the nineteen years he missed seeing her grow up. She smiled slyly. "But just think. We'll get to spend a lot of time together."

Stanley looked up from a case file. He knew Lynda got him with that remark. If

he said no, then he'd come across as someone who didn't want to spend time with his daughter. That's not someone he wanted to be. He sighed, knowing he was defeated. "Fine, I'll go."

Lynda smiled. "Thanks, guys. This really means a lot to me."

"It better," Ray muttered under his breath.

Lynda ignored that comment. "Fraser and I will work out the details, then let you

know about everything in two days." She and Fraser left the Detectives and went to Lynda's desk.

"She's good," Ray commented to Stanley.

"What do you mean?" Stanley asked.

"She was able to back us both into a corner. She knew what to say to make us

come: me with my promise, and you with being her father."

"She is amazing," Stanley agreed.

"How is it that you two are so much alike and yet you've only known each other for four months?" Ray asked.

"DNA?" Stanley suggested.

Both partners smiled and chuckled before Ray returned to his case. Stanley left

to get some filing done.

"Okay, guys, it's finished." Lynda came into the Squad Room two days later. She was carrying a stack of papers. Dief was trotting beside her.

"What's that?" Stanley asked.

"Well, I just finalized our trip to the Yukon. We'll be leaving in about a week.

Oh, here's a list of everything you'll need to get. I was just at the Consulate with Fraser getting the necessary details worked out." She handed a piece of paper to her father.

Stanley eyed the paper with much suspicion. "Are you sure we'll need all this? I

mean, there's no food on here."

"We're going to be hunting and fishing, Dad. Besides, Fraser's taking care of

the food items we can't get by hunting. And remember, you are responsible for your own personal items, okay?"

"Does Welsh know about this?"

"Yeah, I talked to him. He seemed pleased that we're going to get away from

the city, although he sounded too eager to get rid of us. Even Thatcher seemed like she wanted Fraser as far away from her as possible. She was not in a good mood this morning, but once she found out what was going on, she granted Fraser a two-week, paid vacation."

"Two weeks?!"

"Yeah, it's going to take two weeks to get up there and build the cabin, even with

the four of us."

"You sure you want to go through with this, Lynda? I mean, you can always

change your mind."

Lynda smiled sweetly. "You're not going to weasel out of it that easily, Dad."

She kissed him on his cheek. "I gotta find Ray. Catch you later. Come on, Dief." She left her father with Dief and went to locate Ray.

Stanley glanced at his list. "Heavy coat, heavy-duty gloves, boots, long

underwear, three pairs of socks, two long-sleeved shirts, sunglasses . . . sunglasses?" He raised his eyebrows. "Rucksack, bedroll, pocketknife, double-bladed ax . . ." He read the rest of the list, then shook his head. Lynda, his daughter, his own flesh and blood, was starting to act like Fraser. Please, he thought, anything but that.

Lynda settled in her seat to prepare for the four hour flight to Whitehorse. She was dressed comfortably in a pair of jeans with the cuffs rolled up, a black and purple plaid, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of tan hiking boots over two layers of cotton socks. Her hair was pulled away from her face into a tight French braid. Even though it was a little balmy right now with the thermal underwear she wore under her clothes, she knew once they were in Whitehorse she'd be nice and warm. Her bedroll and rucksack - with all her provisions for the next two weeks - and winter coat and gloves were behind her, along with a guitar case. As she settled in her seat, she glanced at her friends and father.

Fraser was dressed like her, except he wore a red and black shirt, and brown

boots. Stetson was resting comfortably in his lap as he buckled up. He glanced at her, then smiled. Stanley was dressed in jeans, boots and a navy T-shirt with two jackets - a light grey one and a heavy tan one - thrown over that. He was busy trying to stuff his rucksack and bedroll under his seat.

Ray was buckled in his seat, listening to his Walkman. He was dressed pretty

much like Stanley, except he had a letterman jacket instead of two different jackets. He closed his eyes and settled into his seat.

Diefenbaker was sitting in the seat in from of Lynda, his head resting on the

back of the seat. He looked at Lynda and gave a pathetic whine. Lynda smiled and handed him a graham cracker she got out from her rucksack. Dief chomped it down happily, then licked his doggie lips.

"Everyone settled in?" the pilot asked from the cockpit.

Stanley quickly took his seat in front of Fraser and buckled himself in. "Yeah,

we're all ready."

The plane's engines started, and soon they were in the air heading north. Lynda

leaned again the back of her chair and stared at the window, watching the trees get smaller as the plane climbed higher. So pretty, she thought. After about ten minutes, Lynda got John Grisham's 'The Client' out of her rucksack and began to read. By the time the plane touched down in Whitehorse, Lynda was already through.

Lynda's horse stopped in front of a large cabin, an RCMP detachment. Fraser, Ray, and Stanley pulled up beside her in a dogsled. While Lynda got off her horse, Fraser secured the sled, and unhitched Dief and the other dogs from their harnesses. Ray and Stanley got up and stretched. Lynda looked around.

The landscape was breathtaking. Two feet of snow, a beautiful sun in the bluest

sky that Lynda had ever seen. The only thing bluer that she had seen was Fraser's eyes. She sighed happily as she pulled her heavy coat tighter around her.

After Fraser was finished he and everyone else went up to the front door of the

cabin. Fraser knocked three times on the door. After a few moments, the door opened. Lynda couldn't believe who was standing in front of her in red serge.

"It's Leslie Nielsen!" she cried.

"Where?" Leslie Nielsen looked around.

Fraser and Ray chuckled. "Lynda, that's not Leslie Nielsen," Ray said. "That's

Buck Frobisher."

"Hello, Benton," Buck shook Fraser's hand firmly and gave a warm smile. "It's

good to see you."

"Good to see you, too, Buck," Fraser replied.

"Please come in," Buck ushered the group inside the warm cabin. Buck nodded

at Ray. "Ah, Detective Vecchio, good to see you again." Ray smiled. Buck patted Dief. "Diefenbaker." Dief woofed 'hello'.

"Buck, this is Detective Stanley Kowalski," Fraser introduced the other Detective.

"And his daughter, Lynda."

"It's a pleasure to meet both of you," Buck smiled warmly. "Fraser's told me so

much about you two when we talked a couple of days ago."

"Good things I hope," Lynda smiled.

"All good things."

Stanley's stomach growled. "Hey, I don't mean to sound rude, but I'm a little

hungry. Got anything to eat?"

"Actually, yes." Buck went over to the stove and pulled a pan off. "Anyone up

for a little moose hock, rolled in wild boar's tongue and covered in Gorgonzola cheese?" He poked at a burnt concoction in the pan. Everyone turned green, even Fraser.

"Uh, that's okay," Stanley said while trying not to sound to disgusted. "To tell

you the truth, I'm really not that hungry."

"Oh well, more for me," Buck put the pan back on the stove. "So, you four are

going up north to rebuild the cabin, huh?"

"Reluctantly," Ray murmured.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck."

"So, what are the sleeping arrangements?" Stanley asked.

"Fairly rudimentary," Buck answered. "One bed in the back. It'll be a little

cramped, but I think we can manage squeezing five people into it. Unless of course, you prefer the floor."

"How about we fight for it?" Lynda suggested, a sly grin spreading across her

face. "Hand to hand combat?"

"No thank you, Lynda," Stanley shook his head. He knew too well that his daughter

could kick his butt all over the world. He'd rather sleep on the floor than to face that kind of humiliation.

"Same here," Ray agreed.

"I'll sleep on the floor anyway," Fraser spoke up.

"Buck?" Lynda smiled sweetly at the older Mountie.

"I would just let her have the bed," Stanley cautioned Buck. "She's a second-

degree black belt, Buck. She even flipped Fraser one time."

"When?" Ray asked, intrigued.

"I'll tell you later, Ray."

"I'm kidding," Lynda chuckled. "I'll pass up the bed, and sleep on the floor." She

went over to a window facing north. "Hey, could I go exploring for awhile? I'll stay close to the cabin."

"Sure," Fraser answered. "Just be careful. And take Dief with you. He's pretty

familiar with the area."

"And don't be gone too long," Stanley replied.

Lynda smiled. Despite the fact that she was sometimes treated like a little kid by

everyone, even Fraser, she knew that it was because they didn't want anything to happen to her. She and Dief left the cabin, leaving Ray, Stanley, Fraser and Buck alone in the cabin.

Stanley looked outside the window. Thirty minutes had passed since Lynda and Dief had passed. "Where could they be?"

"I'm sure they're fine," Fraser said. He was playing Solitaire at a small wooden

table. Ray was sitting in a chair, warming his hands by the stove. Buck was reading Hamlet.

Stanley went to the front door and opened it. "Lynda!" he shouted into the vast

wilderness. Nothing. "Lynda!" POW! A snowball smacked him square in the face.

"Bull's-eye!" Lynda shouted gleefully.

Stanley brushed the snow from his face, then looked in the direction from where

the snowball came. POW! Another one in the face. Stanley ducked quickly back inside and slammed the door shut. "We're being attacked!"

Quickly, Buck dropped his reading and went to the back part of the cabin. He

came out a few minutes carry a rifle. "All right, where are they?"

"Huh?" Stanley asked.

"The men who attacked you."

"Lynda attacked me. With a snowball." He eyed Buck's rifle. "Listen, I don't

know much about Canadian laws, but where I come from, we don't shoot people who throw snowballs at you. At least, not without going to jail."

Buck looked at his Stanley, then at his rifle. He sheepishly hid it behind his back. "No, of course not. I was merely -"

"Okay, listen up in there!" Lynda shouted from inside. "I'm calling you guys out

for a snowball fight!"

"Lynda, grow up!" Stanley sounded annoyed.

"Yeah, we're tired!" Ray shouted.

"Yeah right!" Lynda retorted. "You guys are chicken! You know I'll win! I'm

going to enjoy telling this story to everyone at Division when we get back. How my father and friends were too scared to have a snowball fight with me! You guys are going to be the laughing stock of the Precinct!"

"Okay, that does it," Ray got up quickly from his chair. "She can force me to

come to the armpit of the frozen north, but she is not going to go around telling everyone I'm scared to have a snowball fight with her." He grabbed his coat and gloves and put them on. "Stanley?"

Stanley had already slipped his coat and gloves on. "I'm ready. Come on,

Fraser."

"Why me?"

"Because it'll be three against one, then."

"Not very fair, is it?"

"Fraser, this is war," Ray said exasperated. "All's fair in war. Besides, it's time

to get even for making us come up here."

"Ray, you didn't have to come."

"Yes I did, Benny. I made that stupid promise to her. Now, come on, get suited

up."

Fraser eyed his two friends, then put on his winter gear. The threesome opened

the front door, only to receive a barrage of snowballs. They quickly separated, each taking cover behind a different object: Fraser, the dogsled, Ray, a pine tree, and Stanley, the side of the cabin. They each gathered snow into a ball and prepared to throw.

Suddenly, Dief ran up to Ray, tackling him to the ground. "Hey, that's not fair,

Lynda!" he shouted. "You can't have a wolf on your team!"

"Hey, this is war!" Lynda shouted from her hiding place, a clump of tall bushes

about twenty feet away from the cabin. "Anything goes!"

Ray stood up just as Lynda began shrieking. Fraser and Stanley had managed

to sneak behind Lynda and were bombarding her with snowballs. Ray quickly joined in. Luckily, Dief ran up and tackled the three men, sending them face-down into the snow.

Dief trotted over to Lynda as she sat up and began laughing. "Thanks, Dief." She gave him a kiss on his nose. He licked her. She turned to her friends and father. "Truce?"

"Truce," Stanley sat up and brushed the snow from his face and clothes.

"Truce," Ray and Fraser agreed.

"Did you guys have fun?" Lynda said as she brushed snow from her hair.

"It was enjoyable," Fraser smiled.

"Felt like I was eight," Ray said. He breathed in the fresh air. "Man, now I think I

know why you wanted to come up here."

"Yeah, that was really cool," Stanley agreed. "And besides, it's not like anyone's

going to find out."

"Maybe, maybe not." Stanley and Ray gave Lynda a look. "Just kidding."

The foursome stood up and headed back to the cabin, where Fraser helped Buck prepare

dinner for everyone.

Night had long since fallen in the Yukon. Lynda sat alone on the ground outside the cabin and just gazed at the stars. With the only light coming from the cabin, she was able to more stars than she ever thought possible. The entire sky was filled with thousands of twinkling diamonds. She picked up a small, leather-bound book, pen, and small flashlight. She turned on the flashlight, opened the book, and began writing in it:

Day 1. Dad, Fraser, Ray, Dief, and I have settled in at Buck

Frobisher's cabin. We'll be spending the night here, then heading

out tomorrow. We should reach the cabin by midday if everything

goes according.

The Canadian wilderness is so beautiful. No pollution, no

signs of civilization for miles. The snow-covered landscape and ice-

blue skies are just breathtaking. Makes me kind of wonder why Fraser

decided to leave . . . not that I'm not grateful that he came to Chicago,

but it would be kind of nice if Chicago was in the Yukon.

Dad and Ray are enjoying themselves a lot more than I thought.

Today, the four of us, and Dief, got into a huge snowball fight. The guys

acted like little children. It was good to see them loosen up.

Buck is really a nice person. A little on the strange side, but okay.

I swear he looks so much like Leslie Nielsen it's scary.

Lynda looked up from her journal to see Fraser about twenty yards from her. His back was to her and he was gazing up at the sky. Lynda wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Fraser talking to someone. Strange thing about it was that he was alone. Lynda shook her head and went back to writing.

Fraser never felt more at home than where he was right now. He gazed up at

the stars, remembering the snowball fight from earlier that day. He smiled, knowing the last time he had had a snowball fight with anyone was when he was in grade school. He knew that he would never do that if he was in Chicago. He just . . . well, he felt as if he still didn't belong in the city. It had been three years, yet he still felt alienated from everyone. He enjoyed the company of his friends, and wouldn't think of leaving them, but he still felt separated from them in a certain way. But up here, he knew he could just let loose and be himself, and not have to worry about being professional at all times.

"Hello, son," Bob Fraser materialized next to Fraser.

"Hello, Dad."

"It's good to be home, isn't it?"

"It sure is. I had almost forgotten how many stars were in the sky."

"Did you ever think about coming back permanently?"

"Dad, I can't leave Chicago."

"Why not? You live in your office, get pushed around by your superior - who, by

the way, would make a great mother, don't you think?"

"You're never going to stop with wanting grandchildren, are you?"

"Not until you have them, son." Fraser sighed. "All I'm saying is that you belong

up here, where you can go for ten miles or more without seeing a blessed soul."

"I belong in Chicago. Everyone who I hold dear is down there: Ray, Stanley,

Lynda -"

"Speaking of which, do you really think the Yanks are going to be reliable enough to

rebuild my cabin with you?"

"Yes, I do. Especially Lynda. She's shown quite a knack for being up here. And stuff

she doesn't know, she's eager to learn."

"She reminds me of your mother." Bob sighed. "You know, son, if she were older, then

I'd say she'd make a perfect -"

"Dad, don't even, okay? She's Stanley's daughter. If he knew we were talking about

Lynda in this way, he'd kill us."

"Can't kill someone who's already dead. Besides, he can't even see me. Or hear me, for

that matter."

"But I can," Buck spoke up suddenly. He came trudging up to Bob and Fraser.

"Hello, Bob. How are you?"

"Still dead. And yourself?"

"Never better. I guess you know Benton is taking his friends up to rebuild the

cabin."

"Oh yes. In fact we were just talking about the Yank's daughter. She's

something, isn't she?"

"Quite a remarkable young woman. Seems to appreciate Canada more than

Ray and Stanley."

Fraser cleared his throat. "Now, Buck, I wouldn't exactly -"

"Hey, guys, look!" Lynda came running up to them, pointing to the sky.

Everyone looked skyward to see the aurora borealis fill the sky. Flashes of pinks, purples,

and greens dotted around the stars, looking like a fireworks display. "That is so beautiful," Lynda whispered in awe. "I gotta get Dad and Ray. They'll want to see this." Lynda ran back to the cabin.

"Son?"

"What, Dad?"

"Have you ever thought about teaching her?"

"Who?"

"The Yank's daughter."

"Teach her what?"

"Everything you were taught. Since it seems as though you're not going to give

me any grandchildren, pass on everything you know to her. It'll sort of be like having a granddaughter."

"She would make a good student," Buck agreed. "She's eager to learn and very

open-minded."

"I wouldn't ask you to do this with any other person," Bob replied. "She's a very

capable young woman."

"I can ask her," Fraser replied. And think about it myself, he thought. It was

hard to picture himself as a teacher. Still, he had secretly wanted to pass on his skills to someone, give someone else the opportunities that Quinn gave him when he was a child.

"Ask me what?" Lynda approached the Mounties with Ray and Stanley with her.

"Whoa, this is so cool," Stanley stared wide-eyed at the sky's display.

"I'll say," Ray agreed.

"Ask me what?" Lynda repeated her question.

Fraser cleared his throat. "Lynda, how would you feel if I teach you everything I

was taught?"

"What do you mean 'teach me'?"

"Exactly that. I pass all my skills as a Mountie on to you."

"Oh, no, Benny, please," Ray spoke up quickly. "One of you is bad enough."

"Yeah, and she's my daughter," Stanley retorted. "If she's going to be like

anyone, it's going to be me."

"Don't you think I'm already like you?" Lynda asked smiling. She turned to

Fraser. "It's a thoughtful gesture, Fraser, but why me?"

Fraser cleared his throat. It was time to come clean. "Lynda, when I was younger, I was taught everything I know - tracking and other wilderness skills - by a man named Tom Quinn."

"Wasn't he the one who came down a few months back because he was

protesting that hydro-whatever dam?" Stanley asked.

"Yes, Stanley," Fraser answered. "Anyway, Lynda, Quinn was a major influence

in my life. When he came down to Chicago, it brought back all these past memories. I realized then that what he taught me needed to be passed on. I needed to teach someone what Quinn taught me."

"And you want me to be that someone?" Lynda asked.

"Yes," Fraser nodded. "You are an exceptional young woman, Lynda. You have

a lot of potential."

"Will I have to lick mud?" Lynda wrinkled her nose.

"Only if you want to."

Lynda thought for a few moments. "I'm going to have to think about it."

"Understood."

Not another word was said as everyone stayed outside for another hour until the Northern Lights slowly faded from sight. Then, they all went back to the cabin and got ready for bed.

"Would you get you elbow out of my eye, Ray?" Stanley asked loudly.

"Hey, if it bothers you so much, Stanley, then get off and walk," Ray retorted.

Lynda glanced wryly at Fraser from atop her horse. Fraser returned a wry smile.

This had been going on for the past three hours. The arguing, the complaining . . . it was ready to drive her crazy.

"Are we almost there?" Ray asked in a slightly wining voice.

"We should be there soon, Ray," Fraser said calmly.

"It's cold," Stanley grumbled as he pulled his jacket closer around him,

effectively hitting Ray in the arm in the process.

"Hey, watch it, Kowalski!" Ray shouted.

"Sorry," Stanley answered sarcastically.

"Guy, come on," Lynda answered. "I don't know why one of you didn't get a

horse back at Frobisher's cabin. He was more than willing to lend one out for the trip."

"I don't ride horses," Ray answered. "I only know how to ride in a dogsled,

unlike certain other people who shall remain nameless." He shot a murderous glance behind him at Stanley. He and Stanley were cramped in the dogsled as Fraser guided the team at a slow pace. Lynda was trotting her horse beside the team.

Stanley glared at his partner. "Hey, Ray, anytime you want to fight, just -"

"Look," Lynda said, highly irritated, "both of you knock it off. We're supposed to

be enjoying ourselves, but all you two have done for the past three hours is gripe and complain. You both decided to ride in the dogsled, and so decided to live with the cramped conditions."

"But Lynda -"

"Don't 'but Lynda' me, Dad. If I hear one more word that even suggests that you

or Ray is complaining or griping, I will personally get off this horse, drop-kick both of you, hog-tie you, and drag you the rest of the way behind my horse. Understand?" Both men quickly shut their mouths. Lynda sighed. "Honestly, two grown officers of the law - one of them being my own father - are arguing like a bunch of babies."

The foursome rounded a group of pine trees and came to a halt. About two hundred yards in front of them was the remnants of Bob Fraser's cabin, laying in burnt ruins. Everyone was unusually silent as they slowly approached it. Lynda dismounted her horse and went up to what remained of the cabin's exterior while the three men were busy with the dogsled.

Lynda carefully walked among the ash-covered walls and floor. She poked and

prodded at the scattered debris and found a burnt leather book. She opened it. Some of the pages were burnt completely off, but there was one page that was burnt only around the edges.

Lynda delicately held the book as she began to read what was on it. It was hard to read some of the words, since most of the ink had faded, but she could make out the date April 23, 1957, and the names 'Caroline' and 'Buck'. As she took a deep breath in, Lynda swore she could smell the faint odor of gas. She knitted her eyebrows as she went to join everyone.

"Hey, Fraser," Lynda called out. "Look what I found." She handed him the book,

with the page she had been reading opened.

Fraser took the book, and began reading. He smiled suddenly. "I was

wondering where this had been."

"What is it, Fraser?" Stanley asked.

"One of my father's journals. Apparently it had been lost before I came to

Chicago." He turned to Lynda. "Thank you, Lynda."

"No problem," Lynda smiled back. "But who's Caroline?"

"My mother. She died when I was six."

"Is that what that April 23, 1957, is?" Lynda asked cautiously. "Is that when she

died?"

"No, April 23, 1957, was the day my father won her over. They were eventually

married."

"Oh, that is *so* romantic," Lynda gushed. Ray and Stanley rolled their eyes and

looked at each other with a look that clearly said 'women'. "Do you remember her?"

"Bits and pieces, but that's all." Fraser closed the book and turned back to

attend to the dogsled.

Lynda eyed her father and Ray, who merely shrugged their shoulders. Lynda shook her head, then helped unload some things. "Hey, Fraser, uh, I don't know if this is important, but I smelled gasoline in the cabin."

"You could smell that stuff?" Ray asked incredulously. "It's been over two years

since Victoria burned down the cabin."

"Ray, the air up this far north can get pretty stagnant," Fraser explained. "Smells

can linger for years and still be like new."

"Victoria burned down the cabin?" Lynda asked. "The same Victoria who framed

you and Ray?"

"Yes, Lynda." Fraser never looked up from his work.

Lynda opened her mouth to ask another question, but Ray grabbed her and

pulled her aside. "Lynda, I think it would be a good idea if we don't discuss Victoria any longer," Ray whispered gently. "She really put us both through hell, especially Benny."

"Sorry," Lynda whispered. "I'm just a little curious."

"Yeah, well, I don't think Benny's ready to discuss it yet. So, let's not try to talk

about her, okay? If I sound like I'm being mean, I don't mean to."

"I know you're not, Ray. Sorry for asking."

Ray smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. "Aw, it's okay. You didn't

know. Now, you wanna go back and help, or what?"

Lynda smiled as she and Ray went back to help Stanley and Fraser unpack the

dogsled and make camp.

" . . . and Lo-o-o-o-o-o-ou Sckagnatti vowed that he would never eat another princess for as long as he lived," Fraser said dramatically as the campfire flames cast eerie shadows across his face. Night had fallen, and the humans were gathered around the large fire in front of the cabin. The sled dogs were fast asleep five yards away under a huge pine tree. "Unless, of course she was covered in choke cherries and sprinkled with -"

"Okay, Fraser, I think we've heard enough," Stanley interrupted. He was sitting

on his bedroll, his coat wrapped tightly around him.

"But I'm not done, Stanley."

"Oh, yes you are," Ray said quickly. "You are finished, Fraser." He blew on his

hands and held them in front of the fire, trying to warm them.

Lynda sat next to her father, her legs tucked under her, her head resting on her

knees. Dief was curled in a ball next to her. She smiled. "That was an . . . interesting ghost story, Fraser." Wasn't really scary, but it was interesting. "Now, it's my turn to do something traditional." With that said, she got up from her spot and went over to her things where she retrieved her guitar case. She opened it, grabbed her guitar and went back over to her spot. "Ever since I learned how to play, this has always been one of my favorite things to do around a campfire." She strummed the keys, making sure they were correctly tuned.

"You never told us you played the guitar, Lynda," Fraser said.

"Yeah, I thought you just played the piano," Stanley replied.

"She told me," Ray said. "When we first met, she told me she played two instruments."

"So, what else should we know about you?" Stanley asked wryly.

Lynda smiled. "Might want to take some notes. I'm a pretty complex person, and trying to put nineteen years of that into a simple discussion won't be easy, but I'll try." She took a deep breath. "Okay, I know ten languages, including sign language."

"Which other nine?" Fraser asked.

"Spanish, French, Russian, German, Japanese, Chinese, Hebrew, Greek, and Italian. I can

speak all of them fluently."

"Hey, any kind of girl who can speak my native tongue is definitely my kind of girl," Ray smiled.

Lynda chuckled. "Thank, Ray. Let's see . . . I like Gummie bears, the Sun-

Ripened Raspberries scent from Bath and Body Works, music, writing, reading, computers, my '57 Chevy, long walks along the beach, sunsets, art, bubble baths, wide open spaces, time to myself, horseback riding, and triple chocolate ice cream." Dief gave a low whine. Lynda laughed as she scratched him behind his ears. "And wolves. I don't like people who stereotype others, swearing, drinking, smoking, drugs, heavy -metal, snakes, or bugs."

"That was bad," Stanley shook his head.

"What?"

"That 'swearing, drinking, smoking, drugs'," Stanley replied. "'Heavy metal,

snakes, or bugs'. Sounded like Dr. Seuss."

"I don't think Dr. Seuss wrote anything into his stories dealing with smoking or

drugs, Stanley," Fraser said.

"Fraser, I know he didn't. I was just saying that -" Stanley sighed and ran a hand

through his hair. "Forget it."

"Forget what?"

"What I said."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'll kick your head in."

"Well, as long as you give a good reason," Fraser smiled.

Ray and Lynda eyed each other before Lynda smiled. "Well, anyway, that about

covers me."

"So, what are you going to play?" Ray asked.

"Well . . . just listen, okay?" Lynda softly plucked the strings as she began her

song:

She sat all alone on a bus out of Beaumont

The courage of just eighteen years

A penny and quarter taped to a letter

And mamma's goodbye in her ears

She watched as her high school faded behind her

And the house with the white picket fence

Then she read the note that her mamma had wrote

Wrapped up with 26 cents

When you get lonely, call me, anytime at all

And I'll be there with you, always, anywhere at all

There's nothing I got that I would give

And money is never enough

Here's a penny for you thoughts,

A quarter for the call,

And all of your mamma's love

A penny and quarter buys a whole lot of nothing

Taped to and old wrinkled note

When she didn't have much she had all mamma's love

Inside that old envelope

When you get lonely, call me, anytime at all

And I'll be there with you, always, anywhere at all

There's nothing I got that I would give

And money is never enough

Here's a penny for you thoughts,

A quarter for the call,

And all of your mamma's love

It's been years since mamma's been gone

But when she holds a coin she feels her love just as strong

When you get lonely, call me, anytime at all

And I'll be there with you, always, anywhere at all

There's nothing I got that I would give

And money is never enough

Here's a penny for you thoughts,

A quarter for the call,

And all of your mamma's love

Here's a penny for your thoughts,

A quarter for the call,

And all of your mamma's love

"That was really pretty," Ray smiled when Lynda finished. "You got a really nice voice."

Lynda lay her guitar beside her. "Thanks, Ray. You ought to hear me with the

rest of my band. "

"Did you write that song?" Stanley asked.

"I wish I had," Lynda chuckled. "No, it was written by the Wilkinsons. It's pretty

popular. It's called '26 Cents'."

"How's *your* song writing coming along?" Fraser asked.

"Haven't really been able to do much with it," Lynda admitted. "I mean, with

everything I do at Division, plus trying to have some time to myself, *plus* getting ready for the Academy . . . well, I've been pretty busy."

"That's right," Stanley nodded his head. "You're starting the Academy in - what,

two weeks?"

"Three weeks," Lynda answered. "The Monday after we get back to Chicago."

"You think you can handle it?" Ray asked.

"Yeah, but I may need a little help from you guys. I want to be the best I can be,

especially with handling a gun. I know nothing about guns."

"Sure, we'll help," Stanley said. "The key is to not get nervous. Most people

tense up when they first start shooting - hell, I did it when I was training - but tensing isn't good. Just gotta relax, take a deep breath, and squeeze the trigger."

"That's right," Ray agreed. "And since you're going to be new, you're gonna

want to aim slightly lower than where you're actually aiming. When you pull the trigger, the gun will jump up a few millimeters and strike where you want it to."

"That's absolutely correct, Ray," Fraser replied, slightly surprised. "Where did

you learn that?"

"Aw, come on, Benny, you're not the only one who learns by experience." Fraser raised his eyebrows slightly at Ray. "Actually my instructor told me that when I was in the Academy."

"Ah."

"What 'ah'?"

"Nothing, Ray."

"Does he do that 'ah' thing a lot?" Lynda asked.

"Constantly," Ray frowned at the Mountie. "And it gets really annoying."

"Sorry, Ray."

"Look, why don't we sing some more songs?" Lynda suggested meekly. Ray

looked liked he was ready to strangle Fraser. She grabbed her guitar. "Why not sing a song that's very appropriate right now?'

"And what song would that be?" Stanley asked.

Lynda belted out in tune as she strummed her guitar. "Ah, for just one time I

would take the Northwest Passage, To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea; Tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage, And make a Northwest Passage to the sea."

Fraser smiled. "Where did you learn that?" he asked.

"High school," Lynda explained. "In my world history class, we studied famous

explorers. I was assigned to do Sir John Franklin, so after an extensive research of everything I could find on him, I found this song. It's called 'The Northwest Passage'. I sang it in front of the class, then was asked to perform it at a school fundraiser."

"Listen, I'm sure it's a nice song," Stanley said, "but if we're going to sing, why

not sing something we all know?"

"Hey, Benny, you remember what song we sang when we were trekking through

the forest that one time?"

"Which one, Ray?"

"Uh . . . 'California Dreamin'." Ray turned to Lynda. "Can you play that?"

"Sure, Ray." Lynda cleared her throat. "All the leaves are brown!"

"The leaves are brown!" the men echoed.

"And the sky is grey!"

"The sky is grey!"

The foursome sang the rest of the song, with just the guitar and Diefenbaker to

back them up. After they finished, they sang some more. Fraser even taught them all the words to 'Ride Forever'. By the time they went to sleep, they all had smiles on their faces.

Ray felt this warm wetness on his face. He woke up to find Dief licking his face. "Dief, cut that out!" He bolted upwards, shoving the wolf away and wiping drool off his cheeks. "Eeeyuck! Dief, I can't believe you'd do that to me!"

"Hey, some of us are trying to sleep," Stanley grumbled from under the covers of

his bed roll.

"Yeah, well, I had a wolf licking my - hey, where are they?"

"Where are who?"

"Fraser and Lynda. They're not here."

Stanley sat up, yawned and rubbed his eyes, then looked to where Fraser and

Lynda were sleeping. Sure enough, both the Mountie and Lynda were not in their bed rolls. Stanley wriggled out of his bed roll and stood up. "Lynda!" he shouted. His voice echoed over the snow-covered landscape.

"Fraser!" Ray followed suit.

"Yes, Ray?"

Both Detectives turned to see Fraser and Lynda emerge over a nearby hill,

carrying a handful of fish in their hands.

"Where the hell were you?" Stanley demanded as he frowned at his daughter.

"I decided to let Fraser teach me, so he was giving me my first lesson," Lynda

answered as she held up ten fish. "Ice fishing. It's really fun." Fraser went over to the still burning campfire and began preparing the fish for cooking. Lynda smiled wryly. "Well, at least *I* had fun. I'm not sure about Fraser."

"Why not?" Ray asked. "What he do, fall in the hole or something?"

"No, I out-fished him," Lynda answered.

"You out-fished Fraser?" Stanley asked incredulously. "By how much?"

"Now, Stanley," Fraser spoke up, "it really doesn't matter how many fish we each

caught."

"I beat him by five fish," Lynda replied quickly.

"It was just lucky," Fraser murmured under his breath.

"What was that, Fraser?" Ray asked teasingly.

"You know, if Lynda's going to keep outdoing Fraser in everything he teaches

her," Stanley smiled, "it could get interesting."

"Guy, leave him alone, okay?" Lynda smiled as she went over and helped Fraser

de-scale and cook the chinook salmon.

"So, what're we going to do today?" Ray mumbled around a mouthful of fish.

Everyone had taken a fish and was eating it. Lynda was feeding Dief his fish in small pieces.

"We're going to assess how much damage was actually done to the cabin,"

Fraser answered. "Then, we can start finding the right trees to start building."

"And I get my second lesson, too," Lynda added.

"Which is . . . ?" Stanley asked.

"Semaphore," Fraser and Lynda answered at the same time.

Ray and Stanley just glanced at each other. They weren't sure what to say to

that. The Detectives sighed, knowing better, and just continued eating.

" . . . and by the size and indentation of the print," Fraser pointed out carefully

the print in the snow, "we can tell this footprint was made by -"

"Diefenbaker," Lynda finished.

Fraser looked up, startled. "Uh . . . that's quite correct, Lynda." He pointed to

the shoe print beside Dief's paw prints. "And this print was made by -"

"Dad."

Fraser stared at her, puzzled. "How did you know that?"

Lynda knelt down beside him in the snow. "Because, my dear Constable, I have

lived with that wolf for four months. Remember when you guys came to my apartment about three weeks ago with your muddy feet after tracking that suspect through the park? Remember when you forgot to grab Dief, and he walked all over my white carpet with his muddy paws?" Fraser nodded. "Well, I happen to have a photographic memory, Fraser, and I memorized his prints. That way in case I ever saw his prints again, he couldn't deny anything."

"And your father's?"

"Lucky guess?" Lynda suggested. "I just assumed that since those are Dief's

tracks, and Dad went with him, then they're probably Dad's."

Fraser couldn't help but smile. Teaching Lynda would be easier than he

thought. She already knows so much, he said to himself. "Okay," he said as he stood up. "I think it's time to give you your semaphore lesson. Do you know anything about semaphore?"

"A little. All I know is that it can be used when no other form of communication

can be used, like if you're stranded and a plane needs to land. You can guide them using semaphore and tell them where the safest place to land would be."

"You're absolutely right, Lynda. I remember when I had to use it a little over a

year ago. Ray and I were going to testify against one Randal Bolt, who -"

"Took over a train full of the Musical Ride from Canada with the help of terrorists

posing as a camera crew," Lynda finished. She smiled brightly. "I like to keep in touch with current events." Suddenly, her eyes brightened. "Omigosh, that's right. You were on that train . . . and so was Ray."

"Very perceptive, Lynda. Yes, we were both on that train. Anyway, Ray and I

were to testify against Bolt in the Justice Building."

"And he took the courtroom hostage, with you two strapped together to a bomb."

"Correct. After we escaped, I had to communicate with Inspector Thatcher, who

was outside the building. The only way to communicate with her was by using semaphore."

"Cool. So, is it pretty easy to learn?"

"I would think so, especially for you, Lynda." Lynda blushed slightly. "The key is

to correctly position your arms and hands. Let me show you the alphabet." Fraser went through the entire alphabet using semaphore. Lynda watched closely,

remembering where each arm was positioned. "Would you like to try?" Fraser asked after he was done.

"Sure." Lynda stood tall and closed her eyes. She pictured the twenty-six letters,

and each of their positions. She took a deep breath, then attempted to semaphore each letter. When she was done, she cautiously opened her eyes and looked at Fraser.

"Excellent," he smiled proudly, clapping his gloved hands. "You just spelled the

entire alphabet, Lynda. Fantastic." Lynda beamed. "Now, try spelling your name." Lynda semaphored her name. "Good. Now, your father's." Lynda obeyed. "Great. Now, let's try something harder. Spell out this sentence: 'Maintain the Right'."

"The motto of the R.C.M.P.," Lynda replied before semaphoring it.

"Bravo, Lynda. I think you're definitely ready for a trial test."

"And what kind of test would that be?" Stanley spoke up as he and Dief

appeared from a grove of pine trees.

"I think Lynda's ready to communicate from a farther distance," Fraser said.

"You see that hill over there?" He pointed to a hill about a hundred yards from where they were. Lynda nodded. "Go up there. I'll stay here, and we can relay messages back and forth."

"Okay," Lynda nodded before running off. Dief was with her.

"Hey, wait up!" Stanley ran after his daughter.

"Hey, Benny," Ray smiled as he trudged through the snow up to his friend.

"What's going on?"

"Lynda's going to take her first test," Fraser explained.

"Think she can do it?"

"Definitely, Ray. She already knows how to do semaphore. The entire

alphabet."

"How'd she learn it so fast?"

"She has a photographic memory. She only needed one try and she

semaphored her name, Stanley's and the motto of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." He turned to see Lynda on the top of the hill. He signaled her if she was ready. She signaled back she was. Fraser began by asking her if she was enjoying herself.

Up on the hill, Lynda semaphored back.

"What'd she say?" Ray asked.

"'Definitely', Fraser answered. Lynda semaphored another question, which

Fraser replied promptly.

"What'd you ask?" Stanley asked Lynda.

"I wanted to know if he ever regretted coming to Chicago," Lynda replied.

"And?"

"No, he never regretted it once," Lynda smiled. "He said there was too much in

Chicago he wanted to be with, especially the three of us."

Fraser and Lynda kept semaphoring questions and answers back and forth.

Stanley was getting slightly impatient. "Okay, I want to try," he said after ten minutes.

"Try what?" Lynda asked.

"That semaphore thing."

"But Dad-"

"I can handle it, Lynda." Stanley stood up tall. "Here it goes." He started

flapping his arms, trying to send a message. After a few moments he stopped, then looked at Lynda. She gave him the strangest look, then burst out laughing. Stanley scowled. "What?"

"You just semaphored Fraser that he smelt like a pig," Lynda giggled. She sent

a message to Fraser, who replied back. "Okay, got that cleared up."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I told Fraser 'ignore previous message: sender is idiot'."

"Lynda," Stanley warned.

"Just kidding. Good grief." Lynda smiled. "I just told him to ignore it." She and

her father ventured down the hill to where Ray and Fraser were. Dief trotted close behind them.

"That was pretty cool, Lynda," Ray smiled.

"Thanks, Ray."

"Now, your father on the other hand -"

"Watch it, Vecchio."

"Well, I don't think we need to worry about any more lessons today," Fraser jumped in

quickly. "Let's say we start building the cabin. It's almost -" a quick glance at the sky and Fraser was able to get the time "- one thirty. Now, we've already gotten the cabin cleared and cleaned up, so let's go find some trees to chop. After we get our axes from camp, of course."

"Of course," Lynda replied. "Back to cabin, men! Mush!"

Lynda trudged forward with Dief beside her as the older gentlemen walked behind her.

For the next two weeks Lynda, Fraser, Ray, and Stanley worked on the cabin. Together, they chopped down the trees, got them ready for stacking, and built the cabin from the foundation up. The only time they stopped was to sleep, eat, or- in the case of Fraser - give Lynda her daily lessons.

It was the last day at the cabin. Fraser had just finished nailing in the last nail

on the roof. Then he stood next to his three friends as they stood in front of the finished cabin, admiring their work. So hard had they worked on it, that the re-built cabin looked like it hadn't even been burnt down in the first place.

"Not bad," Ray said. "Not bad at all."

"We are good," Stanley smiled.

"Yes, we are," Lynda yawned.

Fraser just stood, not saying a word, and smiled.

Bob Fraser appeared next to his son. "Not bad, son. You and the Yanks did an exceptional job on my cabin."

"Thanks."

"For what, Fraser?" Lynda asked.

Fraser sighed. "For helping me."

Lynda smiled. "No problem."

"Yeah, Benny, no sweat. Glad to help."

"Yeah, but I'll be glad to get back to Chicago," Stanley raised his eyebrows. "I

haven't taken a bath since we got here."

"None of us have, Dad. But we have learned something. If we can stay this

close to each other after not having baths for almost two weeks, then we can definitely go through anything together."

"Yeah, all for one and one for all," Stanley smiled.

Fraser looked up at the sky. "Well, it's almost four o'clock. If we hurry and get

packed up, we can make Buck Frobisher's cabin before nightfall."

And they did. Buck greeted the four humans and wolf, offering them a hot meal

of something other than moose hock. They all ate their fill, then went to sleep. The next day, they set off for Whitehorse, where they boarded the plane that would take them to Toronto. As they settled in, Lynda smiled, then sighed loudly.

"You okay, Lynda?"

"Yeah, Dad. I feel really relaxed." She stretched. "*That* was a vacation."

"I'm really glad you enjoyed yourself," Fraser leaned back in his seat.

"How could I have not enjoyed myself? I had my father, and my two best friends

with me." Dief whined. "Okay, okay, *three* best friends. And I learned so many new things." Lynda leaned back in her seat. True, her muscles ached and she smelt like she had been in a sewer, but she had actually done something she wanted to, when she wanted to.

Her other trips, the ones with her mother, had been for the company. They had

done things together, but for the most part, Lynda was left to herself on those trips. With Fraser, Ray, and her father, they let her be a part of everything. They treated her like she was an adult, especially Fraser. She knew she would never forget that. Lynda sighed one last time before the plane lifted off, and they were going due south.

THE END