Angels Unaware or It's A Wonderful Life, Ray Kowalski    The Due South
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      	  Angels Unaware or It's A Wonderful Life, Ray Kowalski 
 by Etui  

 Disclaimer: Neither Due South nor It's a Wonderful Life belong to me.
Written for love, not money.

 Author's Notes: Thanks to Stormy Stormheller and Val for the betas.

 

 "God, if you exist, please look out for my partner, Ray. He's had a lot
of troubles lately: Stella, Beth Botrelle, and now this episode with
Warfield, for which I know he feels responsible even though he is entirely
blameless in the matter. He did attempt to dissuade me from my course of
action; I was just too stubborn and arrogant to listen. However, I
digress. He is quite downcast tonight, and I would very much appreciate it
if you would keep him safe. Thank you kindly." 

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

 "Hello, Joseph. Is there a problem?" 

 "We've had a request from Benton Fraser to look out for Ray Kowalski
tonight." 

 "Really? He doesn't ask for help very often. Whose turn is it?" 

 "Nathaniel's, sir." 

 "Oh, dear. Well, I suppose we must let him try. Call for him." 

 "You sent for me, sir?" 

 "Yes, Nathaniel. There's a man in trouble tonight that we need you to
help. His name is Ray Kowalski. He's a police officer in Chicago. He's
undercover to help protect the life of a fellow officer, but this has left
him almost entirely isolated: except for his ex-wife, he hasn't been able
to maintain any relationships from his real life, and except for his
partner, he hasn't formed any new ones. This Christmas has been
particularly difficult for him. He feels awful because his partner got
badly beaten on a case he was unable to convince him not to pursue, and
his ex-wife didn't help matters any with her scornful rejection when he
suggested a social engagement. He's lonely and guilt-ridden and thinking
of throwing his life away. His partner is very worried and has asked for
our help." 

 "You may rely on me, sir. May I ask -- if I am successful, will I finally
win my wings? I've waited so long, sir." 

 "Yes, Nathaniel, if you do a good job with Ray Kowalski, you will get
your wings." 

 "Oh, thank you, sir! I must be off, then. No time to lose." 

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

 Ray hovered around the edges of the 2-7 Christmas party, trying to make
it look like he was enjoying himself, but he could feel Fraser watching
and knew that he, at least, wasn't fooled. Sometime during the melee
caused by Turnbull and his ray gun Ray had absconded with Fraser's hat,
and Fraser, with a small frown, had let him have it. Wearing the sacred
Stetson usually made Ray feel better, like he was one of the good guys,
but tonight it was just not working. 

 To his left, Turnbull was chasing Dewey around the squad room with his
ray gun still blazing. Huey and Mort were back in the corner trying to
keep out of their way and pretending not to know them. 

 To his right, Fraser was talking quietly with Thatcher and Welsh. It had
just about broken his heart to hear Fraser talking about forgiveness in
his toast. God, he needed some of that. He sucked. It was all his fault.
Fraser wouldn't be all cuts and bruises and standing like it hurt to move
if Ray had been a better partner and friend. He should've known Fraser
would get himself into trouble and need backup. He should've been there
with him. He wished there was some way he could have a do-over, but there
wasn't. There wasn't anything he could do to make it right. 

 Beyond them, Frannie was lingering under the mistletoe, probably planning
to waylay Fraser as he went by for more eggnog. Well, there was something
he could do about that. Ray strolled over to her. 

 "Hey, Frannie. What did you do with that statue you got? I wanna see it.
That was something else, wasn't it?" Ray steered Frannie towards her desk,
where he could see the David prominently displayed by her computer. 

 "Yeah. That Frase, he's a real medieval male." 

 "Huh?" 

 "You know. A multi-talented guy." 

 "Frannie, I think you mean a Renaissance man." 

 Frannie shrugged. "Medieval, Renaissance, it's all ancient history." 

 Ray couldn't work up the energy to explain it to her, so he just
muttered, "Whatever," and brushed between Frannie and the tree while
reaching out to pick up the statue, causing one of the bells on the tree
to give off a little tinkle. 

 "An angel got his wings!" 

 Okay, that was nuts, even by Frannie standards. Ray looked at her
blankly, trying to work out what she was talking about. 

 "You know, Ray. 'Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.'
Didn't you ever see It's a Wonderful Life?" 

 "There's no such thing as angels," Ray scoffed. 

 "Of course there are! Everybody has a guardian angel looking out for
them." 

 "No way. If anybody deserves a guardian angel, it's Fraser, but if he had
one he wouldn't be looking like that, would he?" Ray jerked his head in
Fraser's direction 

 Even Frannie couldn't miss Ray's bitterness. "Ray, it wasn't your fault.
And anyway, he's okay. Maybe his guardian angel made sure he's okay." 

 "If you believe that, I've got a bridge to sell you. We're screwing up
all on our own here and doing a swell job. I've got to be good at
something, don't I? I'm a great screw-up. Just ask Stell. Or Fraser." Ray
couldn't bear it anymore. "I'm taking off. Tell Ma merry Christmas for me,
Frannie." Ray leaned over to give Frannie a kiss on the cheek before
heading over to his desk to grab his coat. 

 Curled up under Ray's desk with Ante, Dief gave a little whine when he
saw Ray putting his coat on. Ray knelt down to give Dief a pat and receive
a lick on the cheek in return. "Hey, Dief. Merry Christmas, buddy. You
look after Fraser. You do it better than me." Dief woofed more
emphatically, but Ray didn't speak wolf like Fraser did, so he just got up
and left. 

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

 Ray ran down the stairs and out the front door of the station. He didn't
even glance at the GTO in the parking lot, just kept walking, trying to
put some distance between himself and his latest failure. The wind blew
fingers of ice down his back and he hunched his shoulders, trying to get
his collar up around his ears to shelter them. The Stetson was really
impractical from a keeping-Ray's-ears-from-turning-into-ice-cubes point of
view, although it wasn't bad at keeping the blowing snow out of his eyes. 

 Oh, shit. He'd left wearing Fraser's hat. Well, he wasn't going back.
Fraser'd just have to deal. 

 Ray couldn't remember ever having had a more miserable Christmas. His
folks had gone back to Arizona to see the grandkids, Stella had blown him
off in front of the whole squad room, and Fraser -- well he couldn't
imagine Fraser ever wanting to spend any time with him after this, let
alone Christmas. He was on his own. Again. God, he hated being alone. It
sucked big giant rocks. Christmas was for families. And really, Fraser was
the closest thing to family that Ray had, and he'd ruined it. 

 Ray tried to derail that train of thought before it got going. He'd been
down that track so often he had his own station. Not only was he a total
screw-up who allowed his partner to get beat within an inch of his life
because he didn't back him up, he was also a total chicken-shit who didn't
have the balls to tell said partner how he really felt about him. Proud of
him didn't begin to cover it. Crazy in love with him was much more like
it, but he couldn't say that. Couldn't bear it if Fraser didn't feel the
same way; couldn't risk Fraser-the-innocent turning tail and running like
a caribou all the way back to Canada. He didn't know who he'd be if he
wasn't Fraser's partner and friend. So instead of betting it all on the
big one, he made half-hearted efforts to date Stella and got humiliated
for it. 

 Ray walked on, his thoughts going round in circles, until he found
himself at the edge of the lake they call Michigan. (Where did Fraser get
that stupid name anyway?) There he stood and stared out over the water,
with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up around his ears,
brooding on all his shortcomings. Stella was well rid of him; she
obviously agreed with that assessment. And Fraser -- well, Fraser would be
well rid of him too. He should have another partner. Someone who'd watch
his back and not let him get the crap beat out of him. 

 "They'd both be better off without me," Ray muttered. 

 "Don't say that." 

 Ray jerked around, startled at the voice behind him. There hadn't been
anybody else in the park on the way in. Even lost in his thoughts, he
never lost sight of his surroundings. A young man stood there, however.
His clothes didn't look quite right, but it wasn't anything Ray could put
his finger on, and he didn't look threatening, so Ray just shrugged and
turned away again. 

 "Why not? It's true. In fact, I wish I'd never even been born. Then she'd
have found a better husband, and him a better partner, to start with." 

 The young man appeared thoughtful. Then he directed a question into thin
air. "What do you think, Joseph? It's an old strategy, but it might be
effective." 

 Okay, Ray was definitely starting to get uncomfortable. He moved to the
side to try and get a clear path around the young man back to a more
populated area. It was Christmas. He didn't want to have to arrest the guy
for harassing a cop. 

 "Okay, done," said the young man, and disappeared. 

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

 Ray looked around frantically, trying to figure out where the man had
gone. There weren't a lot of choices, and all of them came up blank. He
wiped the snow out of his eyes and looked around again, then stopped dead,
realizing that snow in his eyes meant that he wasn't wearing Fraser's hat
anymore. His hand flew to his head and came away empty. Ray promptly
forgot about the man and started looking for the hat. Fraser would kill
him if he'd lost the hat. Could this day get any worse? 

 A thorough search of the area didn't turn up the Stetson, so Ray decided
to retrace his steps. Maybe he'd find it on the way back to the station.
He carefully watched the sidewalk and scanned from side to side as he
walked, but didn't see it anywhere. He was in b-i-i-i-i-g trouble. 

 As Ray got to the station, Huey was coming out the door with someone he
didn't recognize. "Hey, Huey, is Fraser still in there?" 

 "Who's Fraser? Do I know you?" Huey asked. 

 "Don't do that, do not do that. I am so not in the mood for games, Jack.
This isn't The One Liner. I am not Dewey. Seriously, is Fraser still
here?" 

 "How do you know my name? Okay, you're not Dewey. Who is Dewey? Who are
you? Maybe you'd better show me some ID." 

 Ray was getting seriously annoyed. "Like Dewey's not your partner, Jack.
And will this do?" As he spoke, he threw open his jacket to display the
badge attached to his quilted vest. 

 "This is my partner, Louis Gardino. What am I looking at?" 

 "Whaddya mean, what? The badge, doofus." And Ray looked down to where the
badge should be and saw it wasn't there. He slapped a hand to his chest
and patted all up and down that side, hoping the badge was caught in his
clothes. His heart sank when he realized that the holster that should have
been underneath it wasn't there either. 

 "Oh my God! I must have been mugged. They got my badge and gun." 

 "So you're a cop?" 

 "Of course I'm a cop, Huey! I'm Ray Vecchio. I work here." 

 Huey looked startled at the name. "I don't know who you are, guy, but you
aren't Ray Vecchio. Ray Vecchio went to jail over a year ago for stealing
drugs from the evidence lockup." He reached out a hand and took Ray's arm.
"I think you'd better come with me." 

 Ray jerked his arm out of Huey's grip and backed away slowly. Something
weird was going on, and no way was he going into that station. "Har de ha
ha. Good one, Jack. You got me. Merry Christmas." And Ray turned and
hurried away from the door and over to the corner of the lot where he had
parked the GTO. He'd go home, have a drink (or two or three), get some
rest. Everything would look better in the morning. 

 But when he got to the place where he'd parked the car, he found a red
Volvo in the spot the GTO usually occupied. Ray turned around to scan the
lot. Maybe he'd parked somewhere different today and just forgotten. No,
no GTO. Could it have been stolen too? Nothing made any sense. No gun, no
badge, no hat, no car. He was seriously weirded out now. Had he been in an
accident and lost his memory? What was happening? 

 "No accident, Ray. You got your wish." 

 Ray spun back around to face the Volvo and found the young man from the
park leaning against the hood. Grabbing a fistful of the man's coat, he
got right up in his face. "Who are you? What's happening to me? Where's my
car?" 

 The man shrugged, and Ray's hand fell away from him. "My name is
Nathaniel. I'm your guardian angel. You have no car. No gun, no badge.
You've been given a great boon. You've never been born." 

 "What is this? Is this some practical joke? Is everybody in on it?" 

 "It's not a joke, Ray. You've never been born. You are being allowed to
see what the world would be like if you had never lived." 

 "Okay. This is nuts. You are not an angel. If you're an angel, where are
your wings, huh?" 

 "I haven't earned my wings yet. I'm hoping you will help me get them."
Nathaniel gave Ray a small nod. 

 Ray couldn't begin to get his head around that, so he kept talking like
Nathaniel hadn't spoken. "And I'm alive. Huey could see me, touch me. I
can touch you." Ray put his hands on the car on either side of the "angel"
and leaned in menacingly. "I don't know who you are, but you can tell
everybody from me that I don't appreciate the joke." He backed off
abruptly. "I'm going home. If I don't have a car, I'll walk. Fraser does
it all the time. How hard can it be?" 

 And Ray turned his back on Nathaniel and walked away. 

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

 Ninety-seven blocks later, Ray had an answer to that question. He was
cold, hungry, and very, very tired. He couldn't wait to get inside and
have a drink -- although coffee was sounding even better than whiskey at
the moment. Approaching his front door, he dug into his pocket for his
keys...and was almost unsurprised to find them missing. Whoever had gotten
his gun and his badge had obviously gotten his keys as well. That would
also explain the car being gone. 

 Ray leaned on the bell to the super's apartment and waited for Mrs.
Allenby to come and let him in. 

 "May I help you?" 

 "Hi, Mrs. A. I've lost my keys. Can you let me into my apartment?" 

 "I'm sorry. Do I know you? Which apartment is it?" 

 "C'mon, Mrs. A. Have a heart. It's freezing out here. Lemme in. It's
309." 

 "309 is rented by a blind woman. That's obviously not you. I don't know
what you're trying to pull, young man, but if you don't leave immediately
I'm going to call the police." Mrs. Allenby slammed the door closed,
almost in his face. 

 Ray would have punched the wall in frustration if his hands hadn't
already been numb from the cold. Instead, he tucked them under his arms
and turned around, trying to figure out what he should do next. He could
go back to the station. Maybe not everyone was in on it, and he could get
some help. Or he could try his folks -- no, they'd gone to Arizona. Okay,
scratch the folks. There was Stella, but she'd been pretty emphatic about
not getting together tonight, so that might leave him open to a harassment
charge. That left Fraser. Surely he wouldn't be in on this. It didn't
strike him as the kind of joke Fraser would pull. And he wouldn't be so
mad about the hat that he'd refuse to help Ray. 

 Having a plan made him feel a lot better, and Ray started on the long
walk to the Consulate with a lighter heart. Fraser would help. Fraser
always helped, even when he didn't actually have a clue what to do. 

 He hadn't even gone a block when he saw a blond woman coming toward him
with a seeing-eye dog. Maybe this was the woman Mrs. A. said had his
apartment. Ray looked a little more closely, wondering if he'd seen her
around, and then stopped dead in shock. 

 "Oh my God! Stella!" 

 The woman stopped and turned towards his voice. "Yes? Who is it?" 

 "Stella, it's me, Ray." When she made no response he added urgently, "Ray
Kowalski." 

 "I don't think --" 

 "We went to school together," Ray said awkwardly. Unbelievable as it had
sounded, maybe what Nathaniel had told him was the truth. Stella was fine
a few hours ago at the station. No way could she have been blinded and be
walking around in that short a time. Ray searched his memory for something
that would place him for her, reassure her. "Um, Mr. Johnson's English
class? We spent half the year reading Kerouac and Ginsberg instead of
Hawthorne and Poe." 

 Stella laughed. "I loved On the Road. That was one of my favourite books
in school." 

 "I remember. I still haven't finished it," Ray confided. "How...?" Ray
waved a hand weakly towards the dog, but then realized she couldn't see
it. "I mean, what happened?" 

 "Do you mean my sight? I'm a lawyer. About a year ago, the abusive
husband of a client I was representing in a bitter divorce case bombed a
restaurant I was in. I was blinded in the blast." 

 "Oh, Stella. I'm so sorry." Ray reached out and took her free hand in
both of his. "Did they get the guy who did it?" 

 Stella pulled her hand away from his and stepped back warily, putting the
dog between herself and Ray. "Yes. But not before he also tracked down and
killed his wife." 

 "I'm glad. Well, I'm not glad about what happened to you, but I'm glad
they got the guy." 

 "Look, I have to be going. It was nice talking to you -- Ray, was it? You
know, I don't remember a Ray in any of my classes." 

 "Well, you know," Ray stammered, "I wasn't very memorable, I guess." And
as she started to walk away, he said, "Merry Christmas, Stella." 

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

 Ray stood and watched until Stella turned into her apartment. His head
was spinning from the implications of what seemed to be happening. What
did it all mean? Was it possible that something good had actually come
from his practically stalking Stella? Deep in thought, he turned and
started walking again. 

 A few blocks on, a piece of newspaper blew by and plastered itself
against his legs. Without thinking, he stooped down to pick it up. 

 "Noooooo!" he shouted, as he read the headline "COP KILLER EXECUTED"
prominently displayed over a photo of Beth Botrelle. "I wasn't there to
screw up the investigation, so she should never even have been arrested!" 

 "No, you weren't there, Ray," Nathaniel said from his position in a
nearby doorway. "But the officer responding to the call didn't even touch
that bloody suicide note, and Bedford and Franklin still conspired to have
her arrested and convicted of the killing to advance their own careers."
He shook his head sadly. "And you weren't there to look into it again
eight years later and clear her before she was executed." 

 Ray's mind seemed to shift into overdrive. Fraser, what about Fraser? He
risked his life in wildly bizarre ways every week, it seemed. What had
happened to him? Ray turned to Nathaniel to demand some answers, but
Nathaniel had disappeared again. Ray took off running towards the
Consulate. 

 He didn't stop until he got there, a stitch in his side and breathing
heavily. The building was dark. No Turnbull on guard duty, and no lights
on in Fraser's office. Ray bent over, hands on his knees, and took great
heaving breaths until his heart rate slowed a bit, then he bounded up the
stairs and pounded on the door. He waited impatiently for long minutes and
was about to leave again, thinking the place was empty, when an unfamiliar
Mountie finally opened the door, spilling light across the doorstep. 

 "The Consulate is closed for the holidays," he said. "Are you a Canadian
citizen? Is there an emergency?" 

 "Fraser," Ray gasped out. "Is Constable Fraser here? Benton Fraser?" 

 The Mountie looked at him strangely. "Are you a friend of his?" 

 "Yes," Ray said. "You bet." 

 "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, then, but Constable Fraser was
killed in the line of duty over a year ago. He was shot by an arsonist
with the rather unlikely name of Greta Gar-- Sir, are you all right?" 

 Ray's knees were threatening to buckle, but he managed to put some starch
back into them. "I'm OK. It's just a shock, you know." Ray wrapped his
arms around himself and held on. "Thank you for telling me," he mumbled
and turned to go. He could feel the Mountie watching him until he got to
the Consulate gates, and then the door was closed again, shutting out the
light. 

 As soon as he was out of sight around the corner, Ray leaned into the
wall with his hands pressed flat and thumped his forehead between them. He
felt a sob building in his chest. He turned then and let his knees give
out, sliding down the wall until he was sitting in the snow with his arms
wrapped around his legs and his forehead resting on his knee. Fraser was
dead. Fraser was dead -- not because of something Ray had done and screwed
up, but because of something he didn't do, like what almost happened with
Warfield. Fraser was dead, and Ray had never told him that he loved him.
He'd never have the chance now to find out if Fraser could ever love him
back. 

 Well, screw that. Ray lifted his head and sat up straighter; he was never
one to give up on something he wanted. He got Stella, his Gold Coast girl,
even if he couldn't keep her in the end. And he was a cop, a good one, in
spite of his father's bitter objections. He wasn't giving up on Fraser
without even trying! 

 Ray scrambled to his feet. "Nathaniel! You have to send me back." He
brushed the snow off quickly, then put his hands on his hips and started
shouting. "I want my life back. Gimme back my life!" Ray turned in a
circle, looking for the angel to pop up behind him like he had before, but
he didn't appear. "I want to live," he said, almost to himself. 

 As he made one last turn, his back to the streetlights, Ray saw his
shadow stretch out in front of him along the sidewalk, long and skinny,
made longer and skinnier by the crown of his hat -- Ray let out a whoop!
for joy, and his hands flew to his head to confirm that Fraser's hat was
back. Holding on tight to the hat with his left hand, he slapped his right
hand over his heart, feeling both the rough edges of his badge and the
holster underneath it, and then down over his jeans' pocket, searching for
his keys. He was alive! 

 Ray raced for the curb and flagged down a passing taxi to take him back
to the 2-7. He had to find Fraser. 

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

 Ray had the money ready when the cab pulled up in front of the station,
and he took the stairs to the squad room two at a time. The scene he burst
in on wasn't all that different from the one he'd left. He couldn't have
been gone very long. Good. 

 Ray walked right over to Fraser and, aiming a general, "Excuse us," at
the group he was talking to, took his arm and started dragging him away
from the party. 

 Fraser didn't resist, but, being Fraser, just had to ask questions. "Ray,
what's the matter? Where are we going? Are you all right?" 

 "I need to talk to you," Ray said and kept on going until the men's room
door shut behind them. Ray pushed Fraser back until he was standing
against the door, then released his arm so he could go and open each of
the stall doors to be sure they were alone. Then he turned to face Fraser.


 "Okay, here's the deal," Ray said. He took a deep breath and let it out.
He'd practiced this in his head on the way back in the cab, but it was
scary as hell to actually say it. "I love you." 

 "And I, you, Ray," Fraser replied calmly. 

 "No, no, you don't get it. I really love you, not, you know, brotherly
love, more like lover-ly love." 

 Fraser smiled then, a real smile that made his eyes light up. "And I,
you, Ray," he repeated. 

 "You do?" Ray blurted out. 

 "Yes. I do," Fraser replied, and it sounded like a vow to Ray, who
crossed the room in three strides and threw his arms around Fraser,
clinging to him like Fraser was saving him from drowning again. Fraser's
arms came up to hold him, and Ray buried his nose in Fraser's collar,
breathing in the smell of neat's-foot oil, damp wool, and Fraser. The hat,
which Ray had totally forgotten about, was knocked back and almost off by
the impact with Fraser's ear, but Fraser caught it deftly and placed it on
the edge of the sink beside him, keeping a firm grip on Ray as he did so. 

 "I don't know how you can love a screw-up like me," Ray mumbled without
lifting his head from Fraser's shoulder. "I let you get almost beat to
death. You could've died." 

 "Ray, it wasn't your fault." Fraser brought his left hand up to thread
his fingers through Ray's hair, while his right was making comforting
sweeps up and down Ray's back. "You did what you thought was right. You
explained your reasons, and they were good ones. I was just too obstinate
and single-minded to listen." 

 "You got that right," Ray said under his breath. 

 "And you've saved my life more times than I can count," Fraser added,
"starting with the day we met. You're like my guardian angel. How could I
not love you? You're the best friend I ever had." 

 Ray pushed back a little then, so he could look Fraser in the eye. 

 "Same here, buddy." He brought his hand up to cup Fraser's cheek and
brushed his thumb over the worst of the cuts near Fraser's mouth. Then he
leaned in a little, and Fraser leaned in a little, and they were kissing.
And that was good, that was better than good, that was greatness to the
tenth power. 

 Ooh, boy. The men's room at the station was not the place to be doing
this. Ray broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead against Fraser's. 

 "Let's go home." 

 "Yes, Ray. Home." Fraser picked up his hat and, smiling broadly again,
set it back on Ray's head, then opened the door and gestured for Ray to
precede him. 

 They returned to the squad room, and while Fraser went to collect Dief
and his coat and sword from Ray's desk, Ray waited by the Christmas tree.
He looked around; nobody was watching him, so he very deliberately reached
out and rang one of the bells. "Thanks, Nathaniel. Merry Christmas." 

 "What's that, Ray?" Fraser asked from behind him. 

 "Pitter patter, Fraser. Let's get at 'er. We got some serious celebrating
to do." 

 "Yes, we do." They fell into step, walking down the hall, shoulder to
shoulder as usual. 

 "Hey, Frase, have you ever seen It's A Wonderful Life?" 

 "Certainly, Ray. It's a classic. Why do you ask?" 

 As they started down the stairs, Ray slung his arm around Fraser's
shoulder and said, "Have I got a story for you..."  
  

End Angels Unaware or It's A Wonderful Life, Ray Kowalski by Etui 

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