The Big Brawl     The Big Brawl

 by Kelli J

  

 Author's Website: http://www.sugarfreekelli.com

 Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, I just like to pretend. I'm not
making any money off of this so.yeah. Ok then. 

 Author's Notes: 
This achievement is mine, all mine! But it IS somewhat dedicated to
Sylvia, who keeps bugging me that I'm forgetting Due South for The
Sentinel. (Can I help it if those Sentinel guys are tasty?) 

 Story Notes: This story has been relaxing on my hard drive for many moons
now. As a result, its stress level has gone way down and it seems to look
a little healthier. :)

 

 

 Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was hiding.
Sure, it was undignified, but there was only so much bickering a mountie
could stand before he snapped. Ever since Ray... er...Stanley and himself
had returned to Chicago after catching Muldoon things had been going to
hell in a handcart. He had thought that his life would return to normal,
whatever that was, once Ray Vecchio came back and he had hoped that the
two Rays and himself would all become good friends, but that had CLEARLY
been a miscalculation on his part. They had all continued to work at the
precinct, but the friction between the two Rays had been increasing to the
point that Fraser constantly needed to pry the two apart before someone
got hurt. That had been a miscalculation too, because he was the main
point of argument between the "real" Ray and the "new" Ray, and his
intervention only served to heighten their anger. Yes, Ray Vecchio and
Stanley Raymond Kowalski were two VERY different people and now Fraser was
huddled under his desk at the Consulate praying fervently that whichever
Ray came to pick him up first had mercy on the soul of the other. 

 (Screeeeeeech) Oh God. From his position under his, in Fraser's opinion,
very nice oak desk, he heard what sounded like one newly acquired 1971
green Buick Riviera arriving at an extremely high rate of speed in front
of the Canadian Consulate. (Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech) Oh no. Fraser was
still huddled, but was now also closing his eyes and pretending that he
was on an ice floe. It was not working. He had already heard the familiar
squeal of the tires of a vintage GTO approaching the Consulate, also at a
very high rate of speed. This was not going to be pretty. Fraser groaned,
then, remembering that groaning was just as undignified as hiding under
one's desk, crawled out of his hidey-hole and decided to face the music.
Well, not literally, but still. (clomp, clomp, clomp)
 The sound of one angry Italian clomping up the stairs prompted Fraser to
dart back under his desk like a rabid gopher. Ok, like a rather large
rabid gopher. Ok, ok, like a rather large rabid gopher having a very hard
time squeezing between his chair and his file cabinet. 

 The door to his office opened and Fraser caught a glimpse of fine Italian
footwear. "Yo Benny! You here?" Silence, then, "Damned Canadians, always
have to make friends with weirdos like Kowalski....what kind of name is
that anyway?!" Fraser saw the fine Italian footwear turn to leave, just as
another pair of feet, clad in Nikes stopped at the doorway. 

 This was SO not going to be pretty. 

 "YOU!" "What are YOU doing here Stanley? Looking to pick up "Frazer"?"
Both pairs of shoes stepped closer together. "What if I am?" "Too bad,
loser. Benny's riding with me!" "Is that so? Well then where is he, huh?"
They stepped apart, obviously surveying the room, then finding nothing,
started to speak...uh...fight again. "What did you do with Frazer?! I bet
you killed him, you Italian psychopath!" "I did not! Why would I kill my
best friend?" "Your best friend? Is that why you abandoned him? No way
man! When you left, you left him to ME. I'M his best friend!" 

 Ouch, thought Fraser. This was going to get worse before it got better. 

 "Yeah right STAN! He was only pretending to be your friend, because he's
really MY friend. The Benny I know does NOT make friends with spiky-haired
freaks!" 

 The fight was quickly escalating. It wouldn't be long now before Fraser
had to do something... 

 "Benny. That's real cute Vecchio! Why don't you propose to the guy?!"
"You're just jealous because I've known him longer!" "AM NOT!" "ARE TOO!"
"Why don't you give it up Kowalski? The Mountie is mine. Go find you own!"
"He's NOT YOURS, HE'S MINE!" "You wanna take this outside, tough guy?" The
very expensive oak desk emitted an undignified groan, but neither man
noticed. "Why bother taking it outside? I can take you on right here,
right now!" "FINE!!!" Fraser peered out over the top of the desk, both men
oblivious to his presence. 

 A suit coat flew past his head, followed by Kowalski's jacket. Fraser
regained his vision just in time to see Stan throw the first punch. "Way
to go Stanley! Why don't you try aiming for ME now?" Ray taunted. Now,
somewhere in his very logical mind, Fraser knew that fighting in his
office was NOT GOOD and that his two friends fighting over him was NOT
GOOD either, but another more primal part of himself found this to be
quite invigorating. In fact, he wished Diefenbaker were here to see it.
And really, it was kind of sweet how they fought over him... Fraser
watched, entranced, as the two men danced around each other, all anger and
empty threats. Just as Fraser was about to yell for more action, Ray made
his move. "That's it Kowalski! I've had enough of your prancing!" Ray
launched himself at Stan with all the fury of a flying squirrel, well,
maybe a rabid flying squirrel but at any rate, it was enough to knock the
guy down, and several antique lamps as well. (SMASH) (punch) (Smack)
"Stupid, (Smack) Kowalski! (Whap) Idiot(smack) punk ass (whap) name!
(Grrrrrrrrrr)" Fraser's eyes widened as he saw his very best friend beat
the crap out of his other friend with a lampshade. Then, pure bloodlust
taking over, Fraser leapt over the desk and yelled "Go Ray! Kick his ass!
Come on Stan! Be a man! GO GO GO GO!" Ray stopped hitting Stanley, and he,
in turn, paused in taking his beating to stare, wide eyed at Fraser.
"Uh............." Not quite knowing the proper etiquette for situations
such as this, Fraser did the only thing to pop into his mind. He stated,
quite clearly, "Whoever's alive by the time you're done gets to be my best
friend and stay in Chicago, the loser gets Turnbull for a best friend and
has to leave the city." Both Rays, quite disturbed at the possibility of
having Renfield Turnbull as a best friend, happily continued to kick each
others asses. Now this was getting interesting! 

 Thatcher, up until hearing a large crash, had been blissfully unaware of
the deathmatch currently being held in her subordinate's office. She had
asked Turnbull if he'd dropped ANOTHER tea tray (his 5th that week alone);
he played dumb (as usual) so she had decided that the sound warranted
further investigation. Upon arriving at Fraser's door, she took a deep
breath and steadied herself. She never knew what she might find; after
all, he associated with AMERICANS. She very hesitantly opened the door to
find Ray Kowalski and Ray Vecchio strangling each other with her BRAND NEW
drapes! With Constable Fraser enjoying every minute! This was the very
last straw; she was a MOUNTIE, DAMMIT! She screamed in absolute fury, "NOT
THE DRAPES! I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL!" Then, not caring
what or who the fight was about, leapt between the two Rays with every
intention of committing a double homicide. From that point on, Fraser kind
of lost track of the fight. The bodies of the two men blurred together
with one body of red serge...They rolled on the floor picking up weapons
on their way out the door...A stapler here, a light bulb there, with a
golden piece of drapery thrown in for good measure. Now, thought Fraser,
THIS IS ENTERTAINMENT! No wonder Americans paid to watch this kind of
thing on TV! 

 Fraser tracked them as they proceeded to fight each other out the door
and down the stairs when..."Ouch you spiky haired bastard! You stapled
me!" "My eye! My eye!" "I will KILL YOU Vecchio!" Fraser watched in horror
and awe, as one might watch a car accident, as the trio effectively
tripped each other up and tumbled down the stairs. (Thump thump.....thump
thump.......etc.) Fraser raced down the stairs, not so much to check on
his friends' health, but to check to see who won the fight. He stopped at
the base of the stairs and surveyed the scene. Ouch. Stan had a staple
through his eyebrow, Ray appeared to have been strangled with the fabric,
and Thatcher had little bits of glass and staples littered in her hair.
Hmmmmmm..... 

 Tentatively Fraser asked.... "Whichever one of you is still alive, would
you kindly raise your hand?" Ray lifted his head up (Fraser took that as a
hand-raise), Stan feebly lifted his hand, and Thatcher...well... She gave
him the finger. (He took that as a hand-raise too.) 

 "Well, since all of you are alive...Well...I suppose you can ALL be my
best friends!" Fraser smiled pleasantly and waited for a reaction. Stan
moaned, picked himself off of the floor and yelled "Screw you Frazer! I'm
goin' with Turnbull to find the hand of Franklin!" He headed for
Turnbull's office, then turned around said "What the hell am I sayin'?
Screw all of you! I'm goin to Florida with Stella!" He slammed the door on
his way out. 

 Ok... This was NOT going as planned.... 

 Thatcher took the opportunity to peel herself off of the floor and moan,
"I HATE Americans." She then dusted herself off and declared, "Au Revoir,
Suckers! I'm going to start my own international smuggling ring! HA!" She
stepped toe to toe with Fraser, gave him an icy glare, then punched him in
the eye. Fraser fell with a satisfying thud. She stalked off muttering
something about know-it-all Americans and their American-loving Mounties.
Fraser opened his one good eye and glanced at Ray who was lying next to
him, still recovering. Ray. His very best friend in the whole world. It
almost gave him the warm fuzzies. He smiled at the ceiling and spoke. "So
I guess it's just you and me again, huh Ray?" 

 "Yeah, Benny, I suppose it is." And with that warm fuzzy vow of
friendship, Detective Raymond Vecchio of the Chicago P.D. contemplated the
best method of killing oneself with a stapler. 

End