Minor spoilers for Mounty on the Bounty // Minor hint of F/K slash possibilities.

In Due South time - takes place a week or so after MotB . In my own little time line, this story falls between Heat Wave II and Sanctuary. So if you're trying to read them in order ... I already doomed you because I'm not writing 'em in order. Sorry. Clearly I need a Mountie to organize my thoughts and stories ... unfortunately my mental workings tend more along the lines of a certain scruffy blond cop.

Again, they're not mine. Fraser, Kowalski and Francesca belong to Alliance. I've dusted them off (okay, not Fraser - he never needs dusting) and returned them to their owner.

Fraser walked into the 27^th Disrict and looked around happily. Constabulary duties had kept him from the station for the entire week and he had missed it. Clearing up the details that followed events on the Henry Allen had kept both men busy, each at his own office. Except for a talk on the ship, they had not had time to solidify their renewed commitment to a partnership. Finding himself off duty before Ray, the Mountie had quickly changed into civilian clothes and headed straight for the station.

"Hello, Fraser. Anything I can help you with? Anything at all?" Francesca suddenly appeared next to him.

"Ah, no, thank you. I'm waiting for Ray. He asked me to meet him here."

"He oughta be back soon. Can I get you anything while you wait?" she suggested hopefully.

"No. No, thank you. I have everything that I require," he assured her. He went over to his partner's desk and sat down to wait. A short time later, he heard a loud commotion in the hallway, and then Ray burst through the doorway, pushing someone in front of him.

Fraser quickly stood to go and assist his partner. The subject in front of him was soaking wet and cuffed, but appeared otherwise unharmed. Ray on the other hand ...

"Ray, what happened?"

"What happened? You want to know what happened?" the detective was breathing hard.

"Well, yes. I would," Fraser told him. His partner appeared to have been in a fight and was also soaking wet. He had several strange looking cuts and marks on his face and was favoring his left hand, which looked swollen and bruised.

"What happened, is that Mr. Ames here, declined a lawful order to stop and made me go fishing for him in a pond. Sit!" he ordered the prisoner. Ames remained standing. "Sit or I will beat you down with my good hand!" Ray threatened. The prisoner looked into his eyes and wisely decided to take the seat.

"Ray?" Fraser was reaching out to touch one of the odd marks on his partner's jaw.

"Not now. We have places to go, just as soon as Mr. Ames here answers a few questions, which he will, because otherwise he will spend the night talking to me, which he will not enjoy," he said pointedly. He suddenly bent one ear to the ground and began smacking himself on the up side. "Water in my ear," he said to Fraser's questioning look.

"Try jumpin' up and down," Ames suggested.

"Try shuttin' up," Ray ordered. The prisoner shrugged.

"Ray?" Fraser tried again. Ray turned the glare on him. "Perhaps I could assist you in booking the prisoner?" the Mountie opted to suggest. This earned him a grateful look.

"Yeah. That'd be great. Thanks." He pulled off his wet coat and hung it on the back of his chair, shivering slightly. He shook off Fraser's look of concern and handed him the booking form. Fraser expertly threaded it into the typewriter, and waited, hands poised over the keys.

"Name," Kowalski demanded.

"You know my name," the prisoner told him. Ray glared again.

"Edward Thomas Ames," the prisoner told Fraser. They went through the questions on the booking form. In the middle of the questioning, Francesca came over with a cup of coffee, a bag of ice and an ace bandage.

"What's this stuff for?" Ray demanded, confused when she placed them in front of him.

"The ice and bandage are for your hand, bro. The coffee is 'cause you're turning blue."

"Oh. Thanks!" he said brightening. Then he turned back to the prisoner. "Now, let's talk about your brother-in-law," Ray said. Ames paled.

"He's dead," he insisted.

"No, he's not. We thought he was dead. But we were wrong. 'Cause he wasn't in that car when it exploded, was he?" Ames said nothing. "You know the initial charges against you aren't any big deal, but if I add resisting arrest and assaultin' an officer ..."

"I didn't assault you, that was ..."

"You were running from me," Ray cut him off. "If you hadn't run, I would not be injured. Works out the same in front of a jury. You wanna play it that way, that's your choice. Did I mention my wife's a prosecutor?" Fraser opened his mouth to correct Ray's description of his marital status, but prudently closed it after Ray shot him another one of his looks. Ames looked back and forth, considering his options. Finally he sighed and told Ray what he wanted to hear.

After they took the prisoner down and put him into a cell, Ray leaned against the wall for a moment, closing his eyes. Fraser watched, concerned. Then Ray opened them again, grinning at his partner. "So, ya up for a stakeout?" he asked.

"Ray, you should go to the hospital and have those checked out," the Mountie said motioning at his partner's injuries.

"They're not bad. I'm good to go."

"Your hand may be broken!"

"Nah. Fingers still bend."

"Prove it."

"What, you think I'm lying to ya?" Ray asked, in a confrontational manner. Fraser just raised an eyebrow. "Look, Frase. I really wanna get this guy. I had an airtight case against him last year, but then he was supposedly killed when his car exploded. Only in the last month I've been hearing about all these sightings of a supposedly dead guy. So I figured maybe he was still around. Now I've got another shot at puttin' him away where he belongs. But if I don't follow up on it right now, before he finds out I busted Ames, he'll be gone. He deals drugs to kids, Frase."

"That is serious," the Mountie agreed, "but,..."

"No 'buts,' Frase. I hate drug dealers. They're sneaks. You know? They kill people, but they don't even have the guts to do it face to face. They just send the poison on down the chain. It stinks. To me that's worse than just walkin' up and shootin' someone. At least that's kind of honest."

"Understood," the Mountie agreed. "But you are in no shape to go on a stakeout."

"I'll be fine. Just help me out here. Please?" he looked up at his partner. "This is really important to me." Fraser looked into his friend's eyes, sighed and nodded, recognizing this as the opportunity to make sure their partnership was truly back on firm ground.

"All right. All right."

"Thanks! Let's go."

"First things first," Fraser took his partner by the good arm and led him into the men's room. He took off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Uh, Frase. What're you doing?" Kowalski asked.

"Giving you a dry shirt. It's cold out and you're already shivering."

"Oh."

"What did you think?"

"Uh, nothing. Just didn't ... don't ... never mind," Ray trailed off. Fraser paused for a moment, gazing at his partner, with a quizzical smile on his face, then continued unbuttoning his flannel overshirt, pulling it off and placing it next to his jacket. Then he reached over and, after removing the blond's shoulder holster, began tugging Ray's shirt out of his pants.

"I can do that!" Ray pulled away.

"I don't want you using that hand any more than necessary," Fraser pulled him back. He carefully pulled the shirt off, easing it over the injured hand. He frowned.

"What? I mean, I know I'm built like a chicken, but ..."

"You have a beautiful body Ray, but this bruising," he ran his hand gently over his partner's rib cage. Ray's mouth was wide open as he prepared to leap on the first part of that statement, when Fraser's questing hand hit a particularly sore spot. He gasped and pulled away.

"Sorry," the Mountie apologized.

"S'okay. Gimme the shirt." Ray demanded, backing away. Fraser handed it to him and then helped him into it, buttoning it for him. Ray held up his hand as the Mountie reached to tuck the tails down into his pants. "Out is fine," he assured the Canadian, picking up his shoulder holster.

"As you wish," Fraser said, picking up his coat. "Shall we?"

"Yeah. Okay. Fine." Ray was giving his partner odd, sideways glances.

As they exited the building, Fraser draped his jacket over the blond's shoulder. "You'll need that," Ray told him.

"I'll be fine. I've got longjohns under my thermal shirt."

"Sure ya won't feel a little underdressed?" Ray asked with mild sarcasm.

"I think I will be all right," the Mountie answered seriously. Ray smiled and shook his head.

"Yeah. Ya will. Ya always are," he said fondly. "Let's go catch us a drug dealer."

Ray parked the car. "We'll walk from here," he told the Mountie. Fraser nodded in agreement. He was staring at the marks on Ray's face again. "Do not do that!" Ray ordered him. Fraser raised one eyebrow quizzically, but turned away. They got out of the car. Ray went around into the trunk and pulled out a bag with some gear in it. He winced as he hit his hand against the car. Fraser took the bag from him and closed the trunk without comment. Ray gave him a brief smile of thanks and jerked his head in the direction they were to take. They walked down the street in silence. Ray led the way into an abandoned building. "Okay, according to Ames, he sqats over there," motioning across the street to another abandoned building. "So I figured this place'd give us a pretty good view." He looked at the Mountie questioningly.

"I agree."

"Good. So we'll set up in here." Ray led them into a large and filthy room, with a good view of their target building. He turned to look at Fraser and grinned. The Mountie was standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, ramrod stiff. It was almost as though he felt that perfect posture would repel the dust and grime that surrounded him. Come to think of it, maybe that was how he did it. It was as good as any other reason that Kowalski could think of to explain how the Mountie always stayed so clean. He smiled to himself. Maybe dirt molecules just couldn't stick to a Canadian ... some chemistry thing. Fraser took a breath and moved across the room, placing the duffel bag on the floor, by the front window.

"Will this be a good location for your gear?"

"Perfect. There's coffee and some sandwiches in there, too." Ray was pacing around the room, a bundle of nervous energy.

"Ray, perhaps you should conserve your energy? This could be a long and cold night."

"Nah. I'm good. I got a chance to nail Baskin tonight. I'm great." He looked at Fraser. "How 'bout we spell each other at the window every hour or so, just to stay fresh." Fraser nodded. "Great. I'll take first duty." Ray moved over to the duffel and awkwardly unzipped it. Fraser moved in and helped him.

They took turns watching throughout the evening. Fortunately the street lamps were mostly working, providing enough light to clearly see the building after the sun went down. Fraser poured them both coffee and unwrapped the sandwiches at about 11pm.

"Are you certain he'll come in this way?" Fraser while they were eating.

"Yeah. Only other way in is over a seven foot wall. No ladders on the outside." Ray was at the window watching. Seated in the darkness, Fraser could barely make out his features. The room was growing colder and he was concerned for his partner's well being. But, Ray seemed to be doing just fine. He was in his work mode; fully focused on catching the perpetrator. Fraser smiled. Ray Kowalski was so changeable in his moods and there were so many of them. Spending any amount of time with him could be very dizzying , but Fraser wouldn't have traded a moment of that time, no matter how aggravating his friend could be. He knew others around him could be extremely frustrated by the blond's rapid fire shifts in temperament and attitude; the Mountie saw it as part of his peculiar, but undeniable charm. Ray stiffened. Fraser waited. "I think that's him." Ray whispered. Fraser moved over next to his partner and looked out across the street. Two people were walking toward the building, carrying paper bags.

"Drugs?" Fraser queried.

"Or Chinese ..." Ray was bringing up the binoculars to bear on the couple. "Yeah. That's him. Don't recognize the girl."

"How would you like to proceed?"

"Let 'em go inside. Give 'em a couple minutes to relax. Then bust in on 'em."

"Shouldn't we call for back-up?"

"Oh yeah." Ray was already reaching for his cell phone. He winked at Fraser as he pressed the auto-dial. "Gotta be prudent, right?" He arranged with the dispatcher to have marked units respond to the rear of the building and wait for his signal on the designated channel. "I want 'em Code 2. Ya got that? Anyone comes in Code 3, it'll spook him and I'll lose him." He broke the connection and turned to the Mountie. "Pitter patter, let's get at 'er," he said grinning. He reached into the duffel and pulled out a radio and ear plug. Turning the switch to the appropriate tactical channel, he turned the radio on and listened to the plug. Satisfied, he slipped the radio into his back pocket and tried to run the plug up under his shirt to his ear. It was a little too awkward one handed, however. Fraser saw his difficulty and stepped in to help him. Checking his gun, Ray quickly snapped his head to the side and back and then headed for the door. Fraser followed him.

They crossed the street quickly, taking up positions on either side of the front door. Ray nodded to Fraser, who reached over and pushed the door open. They waited a moment, then Ray slipped inside, gun out and at the ready. They found themselves in a dark hallway. Listening, they could make out the sounds of people laughing somewhere ahead of them. Ray held up two fingers. Fraser cocked his head, listening and then held up three fingers. Ray's eyes widened, but he nodded. They proceeded carefully down the hallway, skirting the debris on the floor. Fraser suddenly put his hand up, stopping Ray. He pointed down. The blond saw the wire, attached to a bench with tin cans on it. A crude, but effective, alarm system. He nodded and smiled. They stepped over it and continued, reaching the end of the hall. Taking a deep breath, Ray pointed to the far side of the door. Fraser nodded and quietly moved to take up his position. Ray took the other side, gun out, safety off. They listened carefully. The people inside were laughing and talking. Two males and one female, from the voices. The Chicago detective looked at the door. From the outside it looked pretty flimsy. He listened to the radio. Units had taken up their position to the rear and around the block , ready to move in at his signal. Ray looked at Fraser, raising his eyebrows. Fraser nodded. Ray moved to the front of the door and with one swift move, kicked it.

Pandemonium reigned inside the room for the next few minutes. The woman was screaming and holding her hands up to her face. Fraser and Ray immediately moved to restrain the two men, the Chicago detective immediately going after his target - Kelly Baskin. "For a dead man, you look pretty good," he said jovially, belying the grim look of determination on his face. Baskin reached under his coat. "Go ahead," Kowalski said. "Give me an excuse." The look on his face and the readiness of his gun convinced Baskin that maybe this was not his best move.

"I was declared dead. You can't arrest me."

"Well, ya know, I'm gonna make an exception here," Ray said, pushing Baskin against the wall and taking out his cuffs. Ignoring the pain in his hand, the blond quickly cuffed his prisoner. "Keep your face to the wall an' I won't have to put any holes in you." He did a quick pat down, gingerly removing Baskin's gun and a knife with his injured hand.

Fraser had subdued the other male, a teenager, who was busy crying on the floor. Ray kept half an eye on Baskin and turned to the female. She was still screaming and backing up out of the room.

"Stop right there," Ray ordered. She looked at him and dove into another room. They could hear the window opening. Ray shook his head and pulled the radio out of his back pocket. "Ya got one comin' out the back. White female, approximately 24 years of age, red hair, wearing a light colored sweater and jeans," he advised the waiting units. He turned back to Baskin. "And I need a unit inside to help me with two prisoners," he said grinning cockily. Baskin just glared at him. "Oh, I been waitin' for this," Ray said gleefully. "This is beyond greatness. I have this nice airtight case, just been sittin' around waiting for a perp - and look what I found! The perp."

"I want a lawyer," Baskin said.

"Gee, I dunno if the court provides lawyers to dead people." Ray was enjoying himself. Fraser was searching the room and uncovered a large plastic bag filled with a white powder, along with supplies to cut the drug and bag it for sale on the street. Ray flashed him a brilliant grin, as he turned Baskin over to the uniforms that had just appeared in the doorway.

His mood remained high all the way to the jail and even through the filing of the necessary paperwork. He and Fraser left the lock up around 3am, finally. Walking into the parking lot, Ray was still hyped by his arrest. "Thanks, Frase. That was great. I really wanted to nail that guy. Couldn't've done it without ya."

"It was my pleasure, Ray." Fraser felt a tremendous satisfaction. He had helped his partner and friend. The only thing that could improve this was ... he looked over at the blond. "Ray, I wish you would let me take a look at your wounds."

"They're fine, Frase, just leave it." The tone was warning, but the Mountie chose to ignore it.

"They just look ..." he trailed off, recognizing a certain dangerous glint in his partner's eyes. Sighing the Mountie let it end there, for the moment. Satisfied, Ray started the car and pulled out onto the street.

"Any big plans for the weekend?" he asked, expansively.

"No, Ray," Fraser admitted.

"Maybe we can catch a movie or something tomorrow? Grab dinner?"

"I'd enjoy that," Fraser said smiling. They had stopped at a red light. Fraser leaned over to look more closely at the strange marks on his friend's face.

"What're you looking at?" the blond demanded.

"You."

"Well, cut it out. Keep yer eye on the road."

"I'm not driving," Fraser pointed out in his most reasonable tone.

"Keep your eye on the road, or I'll run a red light," Kowalski threatened.

"Ray, be reasonable. I am simply..."

"I mean it! Keep your eye on the road, or I will run a red light.!"

"Very well," Fraser said, reluctantly facing forward. Ray watched him out of the corner of his eye.

"You're lookin'!" Ray said suddenly, catching the Mountie giving him a sideways glance. "That's one red light runnin' coming up."

"Now you're being ridiculous," Fraser said.

"So?" Apparently the blond didn't see this as a drawback. Fraser looked at him again. Ray was grinning back at him. "That's two! Two red lights I have to run now," he said laughing. Fraser continued to look at his partner, fighting to keep a grin off his face at the nonsense of the situation. "Three!" Ray crowed.

"No," Fraser objected. "Two. It's still the same look."

"My game. My rules," Kowalski pointed out. Fraser couldn't stand it any more. He reached out and touched his partner's cheek. Ray jerked back as if stung. "Do not do that, Frase. Do not touch my cheek!"

"Ray, were you attacked by a duck?" Fraser blurted out. Ray closed his eyes briefly and then opened them to concentrate on the road. "I know it sounds silly here in Chicago," Fraser continued, "But those markings ... well it's just that they remind me of the marks June had on her face, after she hid by the lake during a game of hide-and-go-seek. It was nesting season, you see and ..."

"Gooses ... geese," Ray suddenly said, still looking straight ahead.

"Ahh." Fraser fell silent. Then, emboldened, he pressed further. "Your hand. I mean, granted I only had a brief glance at it, but the shape of the indentation, well, it suggested an equine of some type. From the size, perhaps ... a pony?"

"Shetland," Ray said in a low voice. He had stopped the car and was leaning forward, his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes were closed. Fraser looked at him, concerned.

"Ray?"

"What?"

"About the bruise on your ribcage?"

"Goat. Happy? The bite on my leg is a llama. Anything else?"

"Llama?" in an incredulous voice.

"Llama."

"I thought you were injured apprehending a suspect."

"I was." Ray picked up his head and, turning, looked at Fraser. There was an odd glint in his eyes. "Just ..." he shook his head, "... he ran through a petting zoo." Fraser looked at him, fighting to keep his expression under control.

"Petting zoo?" he managed.

"Petting zoo," Ray repeated. They continued staring at each other. Ray's lip twitched. Fraser's jaw muscle quivered. They both burst out laughing at the same time. They laughed until tears ran down their faces.

"If you repeat a word of this to anyone, I will have ta kill you," Ray finally told him, still giggling.

"Who'd believe me? Well, besides Francesca ... and the Lieutenant ... and ..." he broke off catching Ray's expression. "I wouldn't tell," he told his partner. "You know I wouldn't."

"Yeah. I do." Ray smiled.

"So, Ray, my friend. Since I now know the nature of your injuries, would it hurt to let me take care of them?"

"I'm fine. Really."

"Hoof and mouth disease can be very nasty, Ray," the Mountie stated in a serious voice. "You were stepped on by a pony."

"You're kidding, right? I mean you have to be kidding." Ray's look was less certain than his tone. Fraser just looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

"People can get hoof and mouth disease?"

"I think you should let me take a look at your injuries, Ray. Geese aren't particularly sanitary. And I don't even want to think about the diseases that goats and ..." he had to take a breath to keep from laughing "Llamas carry." Ray looked at him narrowly. Fraser, however, refused to crack. Finally, the blond shrugged his shoulders.

"Only 'cause it'll make you happy."

"Thank you, kindly," the Mountie said settling back into his seat. "I think I have sufficient first aid supplies at the Consulate."

"Oh, I'll bet ya do. Probably got a whole operating room there." Ray shook his head and started driving again.

At the consulate, Fraser led Ray into his office and told him to sit on the cot. When he came back, Ray was leaning back and Dief was sitting next to him, head on the blond's lap.

"Yer wolf's feeling neglected," he informed the Mountie.

"Well, it's his own fault. I invited him to accompany me this evening, but he didn't want to go out in the cold. You're a disgrace to your breed." He directed that last at the wolf. Dief ignored him, turning so Ray could scratch under his other ear. Fraser just shook his head, muttering "pay and pay" under his breath. Kowalski grinned.

Fraser ran his fingers over Ray's face, determining that most of the marks were bruises. He washed off the few that were actual cuts, pleased to find that they were minor.

"Give me your hand," he said, sitting next to the blond. Ray complied. The Mountie unwrapped the make-shift bandage Kowalski had put on. The hand was swollen and bruised, with a nasty looking cut in the palm, but as Ray had assured him earlier, he could move all his fingers, albeit painfully. Fraser carefully cleaned the cut, applied something to prevent infection and re-bandaged it. Ray just sat quietly and watched, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the ointment.

"Okay, we done?" he asked when the Mountie had finished.

"No. I believe I still have several members of the animal kingdom to deal with." Ray giggled suddenly.

"It was kind of funny," he admitted.

"Except that you were hurt."

"Not bad though. S'okay. Gettin' Baskin was worth it." Fraser just shook his head and removed Ray's ... his ... shirt. Ray watched him quietly, suddenly remembering Fraser's earlier comment about his body. He opened his mouth to ask ... then shut it.

"Did I hurt you?" Fraser asked, concerned.

"No. I was gonna say something. Forgot." Ray couldn't decide. Had the Mountie meant what he said? About his body being beautiful? Was he just being nice? Nah, Fraser never lied. So then, did it mean ...? He looked at his friend; watching him closely as the Mountie examined his side. Fraser looked up and caught his glance.

"Yes?"

"Nothin'." Ray shook his head. Fraser opened his mouth, then shut it. It was enough he had been allowed to take care of Ray. He didn't want to push his luck.

"You need to remove your pants ... the llama bite."

"More foot and mouth problems?"

"Hoof and mouth," the Mountie corrected. Ray just gave him a 'whatever' look. "Well, they are related to the equine family," Fraser began.

"Don't gimme the lecture, Frase." Ray stood and reached down to his belt. He stopped, looking uncertain for a moment. Then he turned around and pulled his pants down, making sure his underwear stayed up. "Bite's on the back," he said by way of explanation.

"Understood." The bite was quite obvious and looked very painful. "Did you annoy the llama?"

"Oh, that's a fact," Ray said remembering. Fraser cleaned it up as gently as he could, trying to concentrate on the wound, not on the feelings that Ray, standing before him, practically naked and completely trusting, was engendering. He wasn't entirely certain what he was feeling. But he quite sure it was dangerous. He'd meant what he'd said earlier to Ray. It had slipped out, without him thinking. Completely unlike himself. But that's what Ray Kowalski did to him sometimes. Threw him off. Got under his skin. And the man did have a beautiful body. Lean, muscular ... Fraser closed his eyes briefly, trying to bring his mind back to the work at hand.

"Ow!"

"Sorry." Fraser gently put some of the ointment on the bite and then wrapped a bandage around his partner's calf. "There," he said.

"Good. Thanks." Ray quickly pulled his pants back up, wincing as the denim scraped over the bandage.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?" Kowalski was buckling his belt.

"It's very late. And you are injured. You would be welcome to stay."

"Thanks, Frase. But I sleep better at home," Ray said, thinking to himself that he definitely would not sleep well here, between the memories of that comment and the comfortable feel of the Mountie's hands on him. Nope. That would not be a good thing at all. "But we're still on for a movie tomorrow, right?" he suddenly asked anxiously.

"Yes. Yes, we are," Fraser said smiling, partly relieved by Ray's refusal, partly disappointed. Having no clear idea what he wanted or why he wanted it.

"So. Guess, I'll be goin'. I'll see ya tomorrow, then." Ray was trying to button the shirt back up. Fraser stepped over and helped him; then went to the closet, which thankfully appeared unoccupied for the moment, and pulled out a jacket. "It's cold."

"I'm good."

"Take it."

"Okay." Ray smiled. Fraser helped him put on the jacket and zipped it up. Ray let him. They just stood like that, facing each other, close, breathing quietly, neither man moving, neither man meeting the other's eyes. It was only seconds, but it felt like an hour.

"Well, I gotta be goin'" Ray finally said, breaking the silence.

"Right you are. I'll walk you to the door."

"Okay. And Frase?"

"Yes?" Instantly.

"Thanks. I mean it."

"You're welcome Ray." He escorted his partner to the door.

"How about 5? PM, that is. Tomorrow?"

"I'll be ready." Fraser assured him.

"Great. See ya then," Ray said going out the door. Fraser closed it behind him. Unawares, both men leaned against the door momentarily, one on each side, both caught up by confused feelings, but equally glad of one thing. They were still partners. That thought brought each man peace and kept him company through the night.

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