After The Vault	 After The Vault

 by Tupper

  

 

 Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Due South, Alliance, and
whoever else legally claims them. No copyright infringement intended. May
not be reproduced without permission, except for personal reading
pleasure. Any and all comments gratefully appreciated. 

 Author's Notes: First posting in a very long time. Hope you like it. 

 Story Notes: Characters: Fraser, Vecchio, Kowalski, Frannie, Welsh and
Thatcher. 
Some swearing

 

 

 Ray Vecchio lifted his soggy, expensive shoes up the stairs, one lousy
step at a time. 

 Every person he passed gave him plenty of space. It wasn't his watery
state that made them move aside, it was the dangerous look on his face. 

 This wasn't fair. None of it was ever fair and very little of it was ever
his fault. Life had a way of working like that when you hung around with a
Canadian named Benton Fraser and you let him haul you into a vault during
a bank robbery, fill it with water and hope for the best. 

 Fraser didn't even have to officially fill in his end of the report.
Vecchio got to do that for him. Fraser started the trouble; Vecchio filled
it out in triplicate. It never seemed to go any other way. Who in the hell
was going to believe this and why the hell did Vecchio have to be the one
to fill the damn report anyway? Hell, he wasn't even considered 'Alive'.
Well, not officially. Sure he was soaking wet but not officially alive and
since dead guys can't fill out reports... 

 "Don't give me that look, Vecchio," Welsh snapped from his door. He'd
heard about the bank robbery and he had enough on his plate than to listen
to his detective complain about water, Mounties and sisters. 

 "Yeah, yeah." Vecchio trudged across the room and stopped in his soggy
tracks. 

 He saw was a blond guy hunched over his desk, talking into his phone and
writing notes on his lined note pad. The guy's hair was up in all
directions, his clothes looked as if they were straight out of the
Goodwill and his arse was firmly entrenched in Vecchio's chair. The guy
didn't care that an angry man was standing in front of him, clearing his
throat. 

 When the subtle approach didn't get the man's attention, Vecchio simply
blurted out, "Who the hell are you?" 

 The man glanced up, hardly bothered by the interruption. He continued his
conversation on the phone. "Yeah, okay. I got that. Whaddya mean they were
fresh eggs? Someone eggs your building, it doesn't matter.... Okay." He
hung up the phone and grumbled, "Freak." 

 "Relative of yours?" Vecchio smiled. 

 The man looked up at the irritant standing in front of him. "You want
something?" 

 "Yeah. What the hell are you doing?" 

 "I work here as of an hour ago so take your butt someplace else. This is
the desk they gave me." 

 "Who told you to sit here?" 

 Stanley Raymond Kowalski shrugged. "I donno. Some guy. I said, 'Where's
Vecchino's desk?'; he pointed this one out and here I am working, unlike
the former Vecchinio who's pushing up pansies, six feet under." 

 "It's daises. Pushing up daisies, you moron," Vecchio barked. And he
reflected, with a slow sense of horror, that he had actually been replaced
during his stay in the vault. 

 "Listen, you guys got an opening thanks to this Vechnico guy and I'm
filling in. That a problem?" 

 Vecchio lowered his head solemnly, glanced twice at his wet shoes and
lied with compassion, "I was his partner." 

 "Oh." Ray Kowalski finally put down his pen and nodded. "Yeah. Sorry
about that. Guess it happens to everyone sooner or later." 

 "Mr. Sensitive. So what happened to your last partner? You charm him to
death?" 

 "No." Kowalski glared into this guy's eyes. "He asked me too many
dumb-ass questions." 

 Vecchio stormed into Welsh's office. "How in the hell could you replace
me while I was out there fighting for the money of the tax payers and
getting my clothes wet and getting stuck in a vault with Fraser - all of
that in two hours. Nobody gets replaced in two hours. How could you do
that to me, sir?" 

 "I didn't, the computer did. Came up that we get priority when we need
new hands. This guy was available and Markham sent him over." 

 "So get rid of him! I'm here. I'm back. I'm alive." 

 Welsh put down his newspaper. "Funny coming from you, Vecchio,
considering that not too long ago - this morning, actually - you promised
me that you could go twenty-four hours without getting into trouble." 

 "Trouble whose fault lies completely with the Mountie, Sir." 

 "That may be so, but you still got your ass tangled up in it. I'm not out
to replace you, it's the damn computer and the people upstairs who keep
trying to be helpful. We're shorthanded enough around here these days so
if the folks upstairs want to give us a little help, I'm not about to send
it back. Now this guy's already started on a case and he's going to finish
it, so until he goes, you play nice. You understand me? You and him are
working together." 

 "That's my case, sir. He answered my phone so that should be my case,
even if it isn't exactly an important use of police time." 

 "Oh, but you weren't at your phone when it rang, so that makes it his
case too." 

 "But sir, I realize we're talking bureaucracy, which is another name for
major league screw-up, but he and I working together is only going to lead
to...." Vecchio glanced upward towards the ceiling of words and tried to
find the best example: "Disaster." 

 "Can't help noticing you're still in my office, Detective." 

 "Sir, isn't there some way to..." 

 "To what? To reassign a guy who's been reassigned twice in the last
month? To pull him off the Canadian Consulate case just because you don't
like the way he looks?" 

 "He answered my phone, that should have been my case. Which, I can't
believe you would assign me to unless that was some kind of punishment.
I'm the one who knows the Canadian; I should have the case." 

 "Make it work." 

 "But.... 

 "Bye-Bye."  

 The next morning, Officer Watson barreled across the room and handed an
emergency message to Ray Vecchio, who was on hold, waiting for his lawyer
to return to the phone. He hated being on hold. Lawyers did this to you
when you were at work, busy and needed to confirm that your status as
'Dead' was no longer current. 

 "What kind of emergency?" 

 "It's about Constable Fraser. He's been arrested." 

 Vecchio wandered down to Holding and found Fraser sitting on a bench,
handcuffed and looking completely unconcerned. 

 "What'd you do, Fraser?" 

 "Nothing, Ray, I promise." 

 "I got five minutes so give me something better than, 'Nothing, Ray.'
They don't put you in cuffs for nothing." 

 "It's a complete misunderstanding. It's hardly worth mentioning." 

 "Mention it." 

 "Well, I was walking over to see you and along the way I witnessed a man
carelessly toss an empty cigarette box to the pavement." 

 "And this alarmed you because...." 

 "The was a garbage can not two meters from where he was standing. There
was no need to discard the garbage on the sidewalk like that." 

 "And you couldn't let this go." 

 "Of course not. It's littering." The stress in his voice might have
suggested that there was something else here besides Fraser's point. 

 Vecchio sighed, "Right," and waved the conversation along so that it
would end sooner. 

 "Well, I pointed out the litter to the man, in case there was some
misunderstanding, and he told me where to go, in no uncertain terms. And
then a second gentleman came up and asked me what the problem was. While I
was explaining myself to the second gentlemen, the Litterer had
disappeared. The second man identified himself as a police detective -
from this precinct, it turns out - and arrested me." 

 "A cop arrested you for annoying a litterbug?" 

 "So it would seem." 

 "And you did nothing else to provoke him." 

 "Not to my knowledge. I know how you frown on Citizen's Arrests, Ray." 

 "Yeah, like the last time when you hauled that Judge in and the cops here
didn't stop laughing at me for a week." 

 "I didn't know she was .... I'm not going over that again," Fraser said
defensively. "It's not my responsibility that your fellow officers have
poor judgment in law enforcement. I'm sorry if this bothers you but I'm
sick and tired of watching people committing the pettiest of crimes and
getting away with it." 

 "I swear, if I get one dumb crack about this from anyone I'll.... Never
mind." 

 Fraser nodded towards the uniformed officer standing next to him. "This
gentleman recognized me as a friend of yours Ray," Fraser concluded
helpfully. "Thank you for your trouble Officer Smith." 

 "Yeah, thanks loads," Ray reiterated. "Who's the arresting officer?" 

 "That gentleman, over there. With the unusual hair." 

 Vecchio looked across the room and wanted to toss his cookies. "Oh,
great." He turned to Smith. "Unlock the cuffs. And you." He stuck his
index finger between Fraser's eyes. "Don't move an inch." 

 "Yes, Ray." 

 Vecchio glided across the room and poked Kowalski in the shoulder. "You
know that you just arrested a cop?" 

 Kowalski merely shrugged. "Doesn't look like a cop." 

 "Read the uniform, moron, it's got 'Cop' written all over it." High talk
from a man who, when he first laid eyes on the red serge, thought he was
looking at a reject from one of those kinky clubs they used to raid on
slow Tuesdays. 

 "You want to know what I was doing over at Vaughan and Kenwood?" Kowalski
inquired tightly. 

 "I got a choice?" 

 "I was waiting for his 'Litterbug' to show up and sell me some drugs. I
was going to bust him and make a deal for a couple of bigger fish that
I've been after for three months before I got transferred over to this
dump. That's been the plan for a week now until Litter Boy here showed up
and scared the crap out of my score. If he's some kind of friend of yours,
you tell him to keep out of my face." 

 Vecchio's face deflated. He slowly turned around. "Benny, you want to get
over here, please," he tensely requested. 

 Fraser thanked the officer who had released him and joined the other two.
"Yes, Ray?" 

 "You didn't tell me you'd interfered in a police investigation," he
hissed. "I'd have thrown you in the slammer too." 

 "Oh, dear. I'm sorry, but I didn't know what the circumstances were." 

 Vecchio pulled Fraser aside and quietly added, "Dammit, Fraser, it's bad
enough you had to pull that in front of a cop and mess up what he was
doing but why the hell did you have to chose that cop." 

 "It wasn't a conscious decision." Fraser clearly didn't understand the
suffering that was going on in front of him. Instead, he chose to extend
his hand to the source of the suffering and officially reintroduce
himself. "I'm Constable Benton Fraser, Detective...." 

 "Kowalski. And don't tell me that 'how you came to Chicago' thing again
or I'll bust your head." 

 Kowalski looked at Vecchio. "This guy for real?" 

 "Yeah, he's for real and he's a good cop from Canada who just happens to
think that a good city is a clean city." 

 Kowalski's stared at Fraser for a moment, and suddenly put two and two
together. "Tell me you don't work in a Canadian Consolvent on King
Street." 

 "Do you mean 'Consulate'? Yes, I work at the Canadian Consulate." 

 Downhearted, Kowalski hung his head. "Oh, great." 

 Vecchio looked back and forth between them. "Why?" 

 "Til I got here I was working on this great drug case. Now, as of
yesterday afternoon, I got the call to work on some dumb Consultation
thingy." 

 "Consulate," Fraser helped. 

 "Do I give a shit." 

 Vecchio interrupted the next word from hitting his Canadian friend in the
morals. "What Consulate thing?" 

 Fraser interrupted back. "That's what I was on my way over to talk to you
about, Ray. I didn't realize Inspector Thatcher had already made an
official plea for assistance." 

 "Who the hell's Inspector Thatcher?" 

 "My new Superior Officer. She's been concerned about several pranks that
have happened at the Consulate." 

 "She? Who's She?" 

 "Inspector Thatcher," Kowalski sighed into the air. "You want to get with
the game here?" 

 "Inspector Thatcher's a She?" 

 Kowalski leered, "Not a bad looking She either, if you get my drift..." 

 "Please," Fraser interrupted curtly. "Do you gentlemen mind?" 

 "Oh, yea, there are Canadians present. Yer both a couple of prizes. Mind
if I excuse myself while I go and write my report on why I didn't get a
bust that looked pretty easy?" 

 "Again, I apologize for the misunderstanding, Detective Kowalski," Fraser
called after him. 

 "Freak," Kowalski spat out over his shoulder.	

 Tuesday morning, Fraser walked into the precinct. He didn't know for sure
but inside he suspected that the other officers - because of what happened
two months ago with Victoria - were watching him and still not trusting
him. He felt out of place when he walked into this station and he hadn't
felt this out of place since he first came to Chicago two years ago. 

 Right now, his attention was drawn to the two desks which had been
slammed together to make one solid partnership. Only the desks fit. The
partners were working on paperwork, occasionally pausing to look up and
glare at the other. 

 "Hello, Ray," Fraser said without thinking though the ramifications of
this particular greeting. 

 "Yeah," and "What," came both replies at the same time. 

 The two Rays scowled across their desks at each other. 

 "I'm Ray," the Vecchio One meticulously pointed out. "I was Ray first." 

 "So?" Kowalski shot back. "I'm Ray too. You got a problem with that?" 

 "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. I was here first." 

 "'Here first' as in you were born first or you just landed your ass in
that chair first?" 

 Fraser felt the rumbles slither across the room. "Uh, gentlemen, perhaps
we can agree on a name for each of you that...." 

 "Not now, Fraser," Vecchio snarled. 

 "Yes, Ray." 

 Kowalski looked back and forth at them and leaned back in his seat. "Hey,
Fraser,' he called out. "You always do what this guy tells you to do? He
bosses you around like you're his man servant or something." 

 "I do not," Vecchio bellowed. 

 "Well, no, Ray, actually you do. I've noticed it myself on occasion." 

 "Shut up, Fraser." 

 "Understood." Fraser placed an envelope on his friend's desk. "Inspector
Thatcher asked me to bring this to you. It contains all of the threatening
notes we've received in the past week." 

 "So this Thatcher chick, she keep you busy doing her shopping?" Kowalski
smirked at the shopping bag in Fraser's hand. 

 "Lay off," Vecchio warned until he also noticed the small bag marked
'Hair Boutique' that Fraser was holding. "Benny?" 

 "Uh, yes, well, the Inspector asked if I wouldn't mind picking up a few
...." 

 Vecchio snatched the bag from his hand. "Herbal Shampoo? Hair Spray?" 

 Fraser grabbed the bag back. "She's new to the city and hasn't had time
to find these supplies for herself." 

 "Tell me she didn't send you for these." 

 "Fine." His face was hot, his cheeks were red. He knew the two men were
staring at him in silent disgust. 

 "I won't tell you then."  

 Fraser walked between the two men as they went through the parking lot.
Suddenly, he heard a quiet explosion of 'Oooos' and 'Ahhhs'. 

 Ray Kowalski, animated and in love, was looking at a 1972 mint condition
Rivera. 

 Ray Vecchio, on the other hand, was migrating towards a classic, black
GTO. 

 "Nice," Raymond Kowalski remarked as he gravitated over to the object
d'art. 

 "Sweet," Ray Vecchio cooed at his own discovery. 

 They drooled over the cars. Then, the real world beckoned and Kowalski
reluctantly left the Riv for his GTO. Vecchio just as reluctantly turned
from the GTO to his own Riv. 

 Each Ray stood at the door of his classic with key in hand. 

 "That's your car?" they bellowed before the obvious sunk in. The hatred
they had felt for the other vanished for three - maybe four - seconds,
replaced by unsullied respect for the other's taste in fine automobiles. 

 Then Vecchio ended the moment by ordering Fraser - and anyone else
listening - to, "Get in." 

 Kowalski stood his ground. "Why can't we take my car?" He wasn't sure why
he automatically reverted to the possessive when he was aching to take a
spin in the Riv. 

 "Cause my car's closer." 

 "Closer to what? The building? It's like three feet closer." 

 "Suit yourself." Vecchio didn't know what over took him. Sheer lust to
spend a moment inside, if not behind the wheel, of the GTO was gnawing at
him. Sheer hatred for the owner of the GTO just seemed to be stronger. 

 "Suit yourself", Kowalski mumbled back and pulled out the keys to his
car. 

 Fraser's stomach was doing one of those turns, the kind when things got
messy and there was no polite way to correct it without irritating the
main players even more. "Gentlemen, there must be a way to work as a team
without you resorting to your separate cars." 

 "Yeah? You let me know when you find it," Vecchio said as he disappeared
into the Riv. When Fraser didn't automatically follow, he stuck his head
over the roof. "You getting in or what?" 

 Fraser stood between the two cars, lost for an answer. Kowalski was
staring at him, daring him to make the 'wrong' choice. Vecchio was
glaring, almost begging him not to do this in front of the enemy.
"Fraser." Vecchio pretended to be interested on the time on his watch.
"This case isn't getting any younger. You getting in or not?" 

 Fraser sucked in a big breath and said, "No." 

 Kowalski smirked in victory. 

 Vecchio's knuckles tightened. 

 Fraser nodded towards the street. "I'm going to take the public transit
until you gentlemen decide on a common mode of transportation."  

 "You really should try it sometime, Ray, it's a very pleasant way to get
to work." 

 "I cannot believe you did this to me, Fraser." 

 "I didn't do anything. If either of us is guilty of something, it's you
for putting me in such an awkward position." 

 "You should have rode with me. I'm your partner. I'm your friend." 

 "He's your partner, Ray. He's the one you've got to try and get along
with. I'm your friend no matter what." 

 They were standing in the lobby of the Canadian Consulate waiting for
Inspector Thatcher to finish a call in her office. 

 "You Canadians got a thing against elevators?" This was the only thing
Kowalski had enough breath to spit out with they reached the third and top
floor of the building. 

 "It's called, 'Being in Shape'," Vecchio smugly informed him. "Try it
sometime." 

 "Up yours." 

 "Yours first." 

 The door to Thatcher's office flew open and the new Inspector of the
Canadian Consulate appeared in the hallway. She had a look on her face
that would have turned jelly on its arse and running the other way. Fraser
faltered on his composure and stepped away from her. "Ma'am, I'd like you
to meet Detective Raymond Vecchio, of the Chicago PD." 

 Inspector Thatcher did a double take at the name "Aren't you dead?" 

 "No, for the millionth time, I'm not dead." 

 "Well, the man who answered your phone said in no uncertain terms that
you were dead." 

 "Well, the man who answered my phone only wishes I was dead." 

 "Ray, please," Fraser politely interrupted. He was standing between the
Inspector and Vecchio and couldn't help notice the subtle glances of
interest that breezed back and forth between them. "Excuse me, Inspector,
I should explain. There was a misunderstanding regarding the status of
Detective Vecchio." 

 "I don't care, as long as we get these annoying notes out of our lives. I
don't like problems when I'm new to a Consulate." Her eyes tore into his
soul. She had only known this Mountie for several days and she hated him
as if she had known him decades. 

 "Yes, Ma'am. Detectives Vecchio and Kowalski are both assigned to the
case and they'll be finding answers very soon." 

 "They'd better," she warned. "I'm not like the former occupant of my
office Inspector Moffatt. I'm here to work and I'm not above cleaning
house. There are plenty of RCMP Constables who would kill for a chance to
replace you in this Consulate." She thrust a pile of papers into his arms
and threw him another nasty glare. "In the meantime, here are the duty
rosters from the last three months. I need them in report format by noon
today." 

 "Who's Moffatt?" Kowalski didn't like being out of the loop. 

 "Inspector Moffatt was," Thatcher explained carefully, "a figurehead who
contributed nothing to the community, nor to the RCMP image. He
represented the RCMP presence as being nothing more than a doormat for the
Americans. Well, I'm here to change that." 

 "I'll bet you are," Vecchio mumbled. 

 She turned on him. "Do you have a problem with that, Detective? I've seen
your name repeatedly in Fraser's personnel file. I'm well aware of your
propensity to involve Constable Fraser in your free-for-alls. Well, those
days are over too. As of now, Constable Fraser can no longer come out to
play!" 

 It was a chilly silence that filled the lobby of the Canadian Consulate. 

 Vecchio and Thatcher stared at each other for an endless moment. Fraser
suddenly wondered if the Inspector had been party to the information about
his last case, several months earlier. Of course she was, he reminded
himself as his stomach tightened. Victoria Metcalfe and everything that
happened was old news to everyone. 

 He stood still and prayed that Vecchio would stop pushing her to what
would inevitably be her final limits. "Why don't you tell Detective
Vecchio about the incidents we've had, Inspector?" he blurted out
helpfully. 

 "We've been receiving phone calls and notes, all on behalf of Inspector
Moffatt, all telling him what they think of him. The egging of the
building happened yesterday when you and Detective Vecchio were out
gallivanting in a bank. One of your many escapades, I presume." 

 "I assure you, Ma'am, the robbery attempt and the fact that we were in
the bank while Ray refused to leave until they had issued him enough of
his money to buy basketball tickets was purely coincidental." 

 "Constable," Inspector Thatcher interrupted sharply. 

 "Yes, Ma'am," Fraser acquiesced. 

 "Please coordinate the details of the investigation with the Chicago PD.
Just don't do it on my time. You have plenty of work that involves your
own country." 

 Fraser said 'Yes, Ma'am once more' and carefully backed away in the
direction of his broom closet. 

 Thatcher waited until Fraser disappeared behind his door before turning
to Vecchio. "I assume you gentlemen have all the information you need." 

 "Yeah, I think we can handle it from here," he snidely assured her. "You
just make sure you do your part and keep us informed of anything unusual
that happens, phone, in person or other wise. You do that and the Chicago
PD will do just fine." 

 "Perhaps I'll believe that when I see it. Good morning." 

 Inspector Thatcher turned sharply and disappeared into her own office. 

 Kowalski dropped into a comfortable armchair. "Sweet girl." 

 "You want to get your ass off the furniture, Kowalski. Who the hell does
she think she is treating people like that. 'I'll believe it when I see
it.' Believe this, Lady." 

 "Geeze, to think I left a hot narcotics case to work on the case for a
bunch of Pissed-off-Canadians. I don't blame the freak who's sending those
letters, I'd send 'em too." 

 "Yeah, learn to write first. And you wanna shut up about your big shot
cases! I'm getting tired of your little remarks about the great life you
left behind. You don't like it here, you go find someplace else." Kowalski
ignored him. There was a hole in his knees that needed more attention.
Boy, they didn't make denim like they used to. 

 "You listening to me?" 

 Kowalski glanced up. "No. We done here? I'd like to get back to the
station so I can finish this idiot case and get onto something good." 

 "Fine. I'll see you in fifteen, twenty minutes - depending on when you
get there." 

 "You saying my car's slower than yours?" 

 "Nope. Yer car is perfect. The only thing it needs is a driver who can
drive it the way it was meant to be handled." 

 The clang of the gauntlet rang through the building. The echo was
bouncing off the walls, down the stairs and out on the sidewalk.
Everywhere people walked, they felt the wind brush their cheeks. 

 "Excuse me?" 

 Vecchio stretched and ambled towards the door. "Sure." 

 And he strolled out of the building while Kowalski glared at him with two
eyes and gestured with the middle finger.  

 "Hey, Ray, is Fraser here?" 

 Ray Vecchio's sister Frannie had recently started homemade sandwich
business and made a daily point of trying to sell more than food when the
object of her affections was near. 

 "No," Vecchio grumbled from his desk. 

 "Yes, I am," Fraser corrected, before he saw who was looking for him.
"Oh, Francesca. I didn't see you there. Oh, dear." 

 She was holding out a tray of sandwiches chest-high. "Hungry, Frase?" 

 "Um. Well, no, actually, you see it's been medically proven that eating
between the hours of eleven am and noon." 

 Another person brushed past them. He reached out and grabbed the closest
sandwich from the tray without a word to anyone. 

 "Do you mind," she barked after Kowalski. She didn't know him from a hole
in the wall but she knew the cost of bread per sandwich. "That's not free,
you know." 

 Kowalski didn't acknowledge her until he was settled behind his desk. He
began to unwrap the sandwich. "How much?" 

 "Five bucks." 

 He leaned to the right, stuck his hand deep into his pocket and wrestled
a crumpled bill out of the fabric. 

 "Here." He dangled the bill between his fingers. 

 Frannie watched the display with a mixture of annoyance and interest.
"You break both your legs or what?" 

 "Oh." Kowalski slowly got up from the desk. Stuffing half of the sandwich
in his mouth, he walked over to her and deposited the bill into her
outstretched hand. "That do it?" he asked with a full mouth. 

 "Charming." She looked at the crumpled five-dollar bill, then at
Kowalski. Somehow, the two objects seemed compatible. "Next time, just
ask, okay?" 

 "Whatever." He returned to his desk, lifted his long legs onto the desk
and continued to eat his sandwich. There was nothing overtly remarkable
about the way he did this but there was something that kept Frannie's
attention on Kowalski and not the sandwiches. Or Fraser. 

 Kowalski wasn't aware of the fact that he was being watched but Ray
Vecchio was. "Hey, Frannie." Nothing. He tried again. "Hey, Frannie, I'm
hungry. Gimme a pastrami. And I'm not paying if Fraser isn't." 

 The magic words, 'Not Paying' danced their way into her daydream. "Huh?" 

 "Pastrami. And if you're charging Fraser that
Eligible-Good-Looking-Bachelor rate, I want it too." "In your dreams." 

 "Then I'll tell Fraser what you said about him." 

 "Five bucks each of you," she finished quickly. 

 Fraser smiled and extended a fresh, American ten-dollar bill to her.
"This is for both of us," he said. He couldn't help notice Frannie's
reaction to Kowalski and he couldn't help the mixture of jealously and
relief that swirled in his head. 

 "Thanks, Benny," Vecchio called. 

 "My pleasure, Ray." 

 Anything to keep the peace. He was terribly fond of Frannie and Ray but
his stomach went in circles when they fought. He could sense another
argument brewing and he decided to make the best of a good exit. 

 "I'm going to get some coffee. Can I bring anybody some?" 

 The Vecchios declined and Fraser took his leave. 

 He walked into the coffee room, only to be met with another wall of
unpleasantness. The ongoing discussion revolved around the one person who
didn't seem to do anything to generate these types of conversations except
breathe. 

 "...This guy needs a case of Saunders Law." This was Tim Saunders
cackling. The three other men cackled too. "I could take him under my
foot, show him a thing or two." 

 "I know a guy from the 23rd, who knows a guy who saw Kowalski punch
another guy out for looking at him funny." 

 Fraser didn't usually have a lot of time for these three officers. Now,
he couldn't stop himself from jumping in the way of an on-coming insult
for the absent new detective. Fraser knew he was already on thin ice with
the officers from this station. "I'm sure that's just here-say, Wilson." 

 The trio of men turned to see who was speaking. The looks they gave him,
as though he was one to talk, were clear. 

 "Yeah, I heard that," Jones added, being careful to ignore Fraser in full
view. "Kowalski's weird as hell. Talks to his food, that kind of thing.
Gives me the willies." 

 "I'm sure you must be exaggerating," Fraser interrupted again. In his
world, people were not discussed in this manor unless they were here to
defend themselves. Then again, this wasn't Fraser's world. "Everyone has
some peculiarities. That doesn't mean they are automatically predisposed
to being unusual." 

 "This guy's nuts. Doesn't give a damn about anyone else but himself.
Hell, why do you think we got him? No one else would work with him over at
the 18th." 

 "That's cause he hangs out with dirty cops," Tim nodded. 

 "Hangs out with them? More like the opposite. He's snooping around,
trying to dig anyone up who will make him look good. That's why he's here,
I'll bet my job on it." 

 "Nah, that's not it," someone else interjected. "I heard he got his
Lieutenant's wife knocked up." 

 Fraser sighed and rubbed his forehead tensely. "Gentlemen, these are
probably rumours at best. Try not to believe everything you hear. I'm sure
if the man had done everything I've just heard about him now, he would be
long gone from the force." 

 "That's not what I heard," another voice chimed in. "I know a guy, who
knows a guy who says this new guy killed his last partner." 

 Jones laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. "That's bull." 

 "No, really. Kowalski ran him over in a Honda. Back and forth. Just kept
running him over. Then he got out of the car and wandered over to the
Macdonald's for a Big Mac." 

 "I heard it was a Quarter Pounder...." 

 Fraser sighed and left. On his way out he bumped directly into Ray
Kowalski. "Ray... Were you...? Did you overhear..." 

 Kowalski ignored him. He only came into the coffee room to use the
vending machine. Instead, he turned and went down the hallway. 

 "Detective!" Lieutenant Welsh appeared from nowhere and handed Kowalski a
piece of paper. "I got a call from the Phone Company. They got some
records you're going to need - calls made to the Consulate. Hang ups,
mostly. They'll only release the stuff to us in person. Take Fraser or
Vecchio." 

 "I'll go on my own." 

 Welsh wasn't wasting his time. "My men work as a team, Detective. You
take one of them with you: Fraser or Vecchio." 

 Kowalski looked as if he'd just been sent to his room. He snatched the
paper out of Welsh's hand. "Fraser." 

 The two men were silent until they got to the front door of the building.
Kowalski was embarrassed because Fraser heard the conversation about him.
Fraser was biting on the chomp to say something to make it right and Ray
didn't want any favours. He changed the subject far from himself. "So
who's the chick with the sandwiches?" 

 "Oh, that would be Francessca." Fraser paused and added, "Vecchio. She's
Ray's sister - his younger sister." 

 He never found out what he was defending her against because Kowalski
merely shrugged, "Oh" and kept walking. 

 Fraser kept up with his fast pace. "Did... did you happen to hear
anything in there? In the coffee room?" 

 "You mean those toads you call cops?" 

 "I...yes, I suppose I do." 

 "Fuck 'em," was all he said.  

 They drove to the Phone Company in silence. Fraser complimented Ray on
the GTO, but that was it. He didn't have a clue about how to deal with
this guy. 

 When they got to the building, Fraser made the mistake of opening the
door and allowing a stream of lunchtime people to exit the doors before
they could enter. 

 He could hear Ray sigh each time someone else passed them. 

 "Yer pissing me off, Fraser." 

 "Of course." Fraser nudged Ray to the side with one arm and held the door
open for two more men to exit. "It only takes an extra second to be
courteous," he explained to Kowalski. "After you...." 

 "What do you mean? 

 "Well, what I mean is that civility is a quality often overlooked -" 

 "No, not that. When you said, 'Of course.' What did you mean by that?" 

 "Nothing. I simply meant 'of course' I was pissing you off." 

 "Didn't sound like that." 

 Now it was Fraser's turn to sigh. "It never does."  

 They got the information they needed. Three of the seven phone threats
had been made from a phone booth two blocks away from the Consulate. 

 "That could be anyone," Fraser worried aloud. 

 "Nah, that's a busy area. Bet a lot of the shops there have camera
surveillance. I'll see what they got on tape." 

 When they got to the car, Ray unexpectedly announced that he was going to
drop Fraser back at the Consulate. "I got a couple of things to do." 

 "Lieutenant Welsh wants us to work on this as a team." 

 Kowalski absently began gritting his teeth. "So what?" 

 "It's how the Lieutenant runs his squad room" 

 "He might work that way but I don't." He opened the door and slid into
the car. 

 Fraser followed. "Perhaps you could give it a try. It may be another way
of working that is as successful as your method." 

 "You trying to tell me how to do my job? You don't need to lecture me on
what a police officer does, Fraser. I been one for twelve years, I think I
got the hang of it by now." 

 "A very impressive twelve years," Fraser remarked. Kowalski didn't hear
him and it wasn't the time to elaborate. 

 Kowalski started up the car. They drove in silence for seven minutes
until Ray parked in an alley behind a row of restaurants and bars. He shut
down the engine and turned to Fraser. "You stay out of my face. You got
that?" 

 "Do I get to know where you're going?" 

 "No." 

 Fraser's patience was beginning to wear. "What is bothering you about me
accompanying you on a tip regarding a possible threat to my Canadian
Consulate?" 

 "You. Yer bothering me. Why the hell do you have to dress like that?" 

 "Like what?" 

 "Like ... that. That uniform bellhop thing. People stare. I don't like
people staring." 

 "But they're not staring at you, they're starting at me." 

 "No they're not. Once they're done staring at you, they stare at me to
see what kind of freak hangs out with a guy who's dressed like you. You
see how many people were looking' at us? Christ!" 

 "It's my uniform. I find nothing embarrassing about that. It's what I
stand for." Fraser pointed to Ray's chest. "Just as you stand for the
Chicago Bulls." 

 "It's not the same thing." 

 "Yes it is. You represent your team. Just as I represent my....." Fraser
launched into a long explanation about duty and loyalty until he finally
understood the look he was getting from Ray. Fraser quickly ended his
story with, "Anyway," and promptly shut up. 

 Kowalski glanced at his watch. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes. You
stay here." 

 "Detective Kowalski." 

 The next glare silenced him. Fraser stayed where he was until Kowalski
was at the other end of the alley and almost out of sight. He slipped out
of the car and skirted along the side of the buildings. He saw Kowalski's
coat disappear through a back door marked, 'Sparky's'.	

 I have to go to the bathroom and I have a legal right to use any public
facility I choose. 

 Fraser kept telling himself this as he casually walked down the alley and
kept an eye on the door to 'Sparky's'. Ray Kowalski had been in there a
while. Fraser said he wouldn't go in but this was police business and he
had an obligation whether Kowalski wanted him there or not. 

 He went through the back door of Sparky's, bumped into something that
groaned and immediately found himself three feet away from a pool table.
The three men playing at the table stopped and stared at him. "Good
morning, gentlemen. I wonder if you could tell me where the nearest men's
room is." Fraser tried to glance around the rest of the bar to see
Kowalski. He was nowhere in sight. Then the worst dawned on Fraser that
Ray had only used the detour as a means of getting rid of him. 

 One of the pool players - the man whose shot Fraser just ruined, wandered
over to him. "You came in here to go to the can?" 

 "Well, I don't know if I'd put it that way, but, well, yes I suppose I
did." 

 He looked Fraser over up, down, all around. "What in the hell is that
fruity outfit?" 

 "This is my uniform." 

 The men laughed. So did some of the other patrons of the bar. The place
was smoky, smelly and had a crappy version of 'Feelings' playing on the
stereo. A guy with a long mustache leaned over and shoved 

 Fraser against the wall. "No can in here. Take it outside" 

 A hand dropped on the pissed off pool player's shoulder. It belonged to
Ray Kowalski. "You want to be an asshole some other time, Clifford? This
guy's with me." 

 Clifford, obviously still fuming over his parent's decision about his
given name, batted Ray's hand away. "Then you got more problems than I
figured." 

 "You wouldn't know where to start." 

 Kowalski nodded his head in the direction of the back door to Sparky's.
Fraser thanked the other gentlemen for their time and followed Ray out the
door. 

 And that was that. Clifford let them pass without a word. 

 Everything was fine until they were back outside in the alley and the
door banged shut behind them. Kowalski slammed Fraser against the wall.
"What the hell was that?" 

 "I simply had to use the bathroom and that seemed like the most
convenient public facility to use." 

 "You had to go to the ....? Look around you, moron. Ya got plenty of wall
space out here!" 

 "I beg your pardon?" Fraser's voice cracked in horror. 

 This only sent Kowalski closer to the edge. He kept pointing to door of
the bar. "You know what guys like that do to guys like you? You know how
many times that guy has put guys like you in the hospital? Are you
freaking nuts or something? You don't waltz on in a place like that." 

 "I'm sorry, but you didn't return and I remembered what Welsh said about
sticking together." 

 "And you just had to go on in there and almost blow my cover. They don't
know I'm a cop, Fraser." He let go of his grip on Fraser and looked around
to make sure no one was around. "The people in there don't know I'm a cop
except for the guy I talk to and he's got too much money coming his way to
ever blow my cover because he knows I know his stuff is good. So I don't
need you being Dudley Doodle wandering in with that damn hat and dopey
grin trying to save the day or take a leak or anything else. You got that?
That's how I work, and I don't change for any assignment or Lieutenant or
partners or anything. Canadian Mountie. Christ!" 

 "Would you mind not swearing every time you repeat the phrase, 'Canadian
Mountie'? It really doesn't help the situation and I'm getting tired of
hearing your take the Lord's name in vain." 

 Ray leaned forward and grabbed Fraser by the collar. "I don't care about
any name in vain, I just want to do this job without hearing from you
about what I can and can't do every ten seconds, so please shut up!" 

 Fraser moved back and tried not to react. This man was doing the
impossible because this man had him nervous. "This isn't the way
Lieutenant Welsh wants his Detectives to work." 

 "Maybe not, but I don't care." Kowalski released Fraser and fumed towards
the car. Fraser didn't even know if he should follow or wait for Kowalski
to return to run him over. Hell, maybe that explained the last partner,
after all. Thank God there wasn't a McDonalds around.  

 "I just don't understand it, Ray. With the exception of Inspector
Thatcher, I've never had anyone take such an instant dislike to me as Ray
Kowalski has. It's as if no matter how hard I try, I ultimately do the
wrong thing." 

 It was seven-thirty that evening and the squad room was nearly empty. Ray
Vecchio was finishing a report, and then he was going to drive Fraser
home. He had spent the last hour on the phone, almost convinced that his
insurance company knew he was still alive. These days, not being told he
was 'Dead' put Ray Vecchio in a grand mood. 

 "Oh, there's no 'As If' about it, Fraser. You did do the wrong thing. You
busted his drug collar the other day; you followed him to a meet today."
Vecchio pecked at a few more letters on the typewriter and leaned back.
"You know what your problem is? You're the same as cats. They always go
straight for the one poor slob in the room who can't stand them." 

 "You're comparing me to a cat?" 

 "Well, yeah, in a pathetic way." 

 "Thank you, Ray. That really makes my day. At least Ray Kowalski has
spent a minimum amount of time with me to hate me. Inspector Thatcher has
only been in my presence for no more than thirty seconds at a time and she
hates me. I'm not used to this reaction." 

 "People don't always want to be friends with everyone. Or anyone, in
Kowalski's case. Let it go, Benny. He's not your problem. And be honest -
did you follow him into that bar because you thought he was in trouble or
did you really want to see what he was up to? No one believes you really
had to go to the can because I know you've held it for a lot longer than
that. Now me, I'd have followed him in there because I'd have wanted to
know what the hell he was really up to." 

 "I suppose that might have been the case." 

 "Yeah, you suppose. You don't mess with cop-snitch confidentiality. I
thought you learned that one from me a long time ago." 

 "Apparently not." 

 Vecchio shook his head. "You gotta stop trying to make this guy like you.
People are going to make up their minds about you whether you're in the
room serving cookies or not. And I'm not saying this because I hate the
guy, I'm saying it because you're my friend and I know how you work. How
many chances are you going to give this cluck before you get it into your
head that he's not the friends-making type? Stop trying." 

 "I suppose so," Fraser mused doubtfully. 

 Ray Vecchio moved to other urgent matters regarding Kowalski. "You notice
the way my sister's been looking at him? She's trying not to let on she's
looking at him but she's looking at him all the same. Geeze, it was bad
enough when she was trying not to look at you." 

 "I suppose," Fraser repeated, barely listening anymore. 

 Vecchio plugged away at the report while Fraser sat and thought about his
day, his role in this new partnership, his life in general and where
Diefenbaker might be at this moment. 

 Finally, and triumphantly, Vecchio pulled the finished report from the
typewriter. "Done. Lieutenant isn't going to find one spelling error, one
typo, not one thing wrong in here." 

 Fraser glanced at the paper. "You forgot to add your name as the
Arresting Officer." 

 "I did?" Vecchio checked. "Oh." He inserted the paper, added the
all-important information and whirled the paper in the air again. "Now I
got it. I'm going to drop this on Welsh's desk and we're outa here. Sure
you don't want to grab a bite?" 

 "No, thank you. I think an early night will do me good." 

 Vecchio shrugged and walked the report over to the in-basket outside
Welsh's office. When he came back for his coat, Fraser was still sitting
hunched over, thinking about whatever it was guys like Fraser thought
about when they drifted away. 

 "You coming or not?" 

 Fraser looked up. "Hmmm?" 

 "We're out of here. Let's go." Vecchio waited for Fraser to get up.
Breathe. Anything. "He's not your responsibility, Benny. I wasn't going to
mention this since you're down in the dumps about not being able to save
the world, but I did some checking on this guy. Some of those rumours are
right about him hanging out with dirty cops. For all we know, he's one of
them, or just a messed up wannabe. He's got a temper, he's been
investigated for sending home customers in worse shape than they came in
here. He's a loose cannon. When my job came up, his Lieutenant couldn't
get rid of him soon enough. Nobody wants to work with this guy. And he
doesn't want to work with us so I suggest you buy yourself a clue and
leave it alone." 

 "Sure," Fraser repeated. There was a unquestionable anger in Kowalski's
outburst this afternoon, not just the impatience that most people
experience in tight situations. "Did he really...." Fraser couldn't finish
the question he suddenly needed to ask. 

 Vecchio waited. "Did he 'what'?" 

 "Nothing. I'm being stupid about something that's none of my business." 

 "You want to know if it's true about his last partner? That ain't stupid
- everyone wants to know if it's true or not. And if it is true, then it
sure as hell is your business. And mine. Yeah, from what I've heard, he
was the guy responsible for Wilson's death. And if it's true, that
explains why nobody in hell wants to work with him." There was a hint of a
smile on Ray's face. "Didn't think you listened to rumours." 

 "Neither did I." 

 "You believe them?" 

 "No. Never without solid evidence. Word of mouth is only compounded by
the conviction in which the words are spread." 

 "Huh?" 

 "Nothing." 

 Ray suddenly noticed Fraser's clothes. "Why are you wearing the brown
uniform? Don't tell me the Dragon Lady doesn't want you to stay warm." 

 "The who?" 

 " 'Dragon Lady'. It's the nicest name I could come up with for your new
boss. Man, she's a piece of work. Bad enough she tried to tell you what
colour uniform to wear. You set her straight about that?" 

 Fraser looked uneasy. "Well...." 

 "You stood up for yourself, right?" 

 "Yes and no. Yes, I stood up for myself and no, I didn't expect that she
would announce I was fired." 

 "She fired you?" 

 "Yes, but she's rescinded for now. I don't think she's used to
subordinates confronting her so directly." Fraser paused. "You know,
between Inspector Thatcher, Detective Kowalski and my returning to the
station house after being away..." He didn't need to finish the sentence.
The last case they worked on and everything that followed was never
discussed. Instead, it just always hovered dangerously above them. 

 Ray glanced down at the floor for a moment. "You tell me if anyone's
being a bastard, right?" 

 "They've been fine." 

 It was as near as they had come to talking about 'A Few Months Ago.' Even
heading North for a well-intentioned camping trip didn't help. After
getting back to safety, neither had the energy to discuss subject of
Victoria and it was mercifully dropped. 

 Vecchio switched off the light at the desk and headed towards the door.
He waited for Fraser to follow. 

 "So we clear on Kowalski? You deal with me, not him." 

 "I'm not going to pursue the subject any further, if that's what you're
worried about." 

 "Good. Guys like him eat guys like you for lunch and spit you out, just
so that they can eat you for dinner again." 

 Fraser let it the familiar phrase of, 'Guys like you' pass and replied
only, "I know." 

 "I'm glad you're actually going to give up on this guy. I'm impressed, I
didn't know even you have your limits." 

 "Neither did I," Fraser said sadly to himself.  

 There was another delivery at the Consulate the next morning. It came in
a manila, bubble envelope and said only, "Soon, Moffatt." 

 "Does this Moffatt guy even know what's going on?" Kowalski asked no one
in particular. He, Fraser, a strange man named Turnbull and a sneaky guy
named Ovitz were cloistered in the Inspector's office. 

 "No one seems to know where to contact him," Thatcher said. "Apparently
his promotion has kept him on the move." 

 "Promotion? Yesterday he was the biggest bonehead in the world. How'd he
get a promotion from being an idiot?" 

 Thatcher rolled her eyes. "It is called Official Procedure." She kept her
own recent experiences with Canadian Bureaucracy to herself. 

 Fraser, who had kept his conversation with Kowalski to, 'Good Morning,'
finally spoke. "We haven't been able to get in touch with him to find out
if he knows who might be threatening him. The perpetrator who called last
night said that he would get Moffatt for what he did to him 'in the park.'
We're looking into that." 

 "So who'd the Moffatt Freak piss off in a park?" 

 "Do you mind not lavishing us with your use of the English language,
Kowalski," Thatcher snapped. She didn't mean to be so sharp with the world
but her day was rapidly turning to ratshit in front of her eyes. Fraser
didn't play peacemaker. He was only going to speak when it was absolutely
necessary. 

 "Perhaps Inspector Moffatt was in the car park and took a man's parking
space," Turnbull guessed. The others rolled their eyes but they knew there
could have been an ounce of truth to the suggestion. Moffatt had done
something to someone and now that someone wanted payback. 

 "Whatever it is," Thatcher sighed tiredly. "Please make it go away."  

 Kowalski and Fraser spent the morning going door to door around the
consulate, asking storeowners for copies of surveillance tapes. Some of
the shopkeepers complied, others had to be intimidated by the Kowalski
glare. 

 Fraser stood behind and let the Detective do his thing 

 "Where's Vecchio?" 

 "Pardon?" Fraser wasn't sure he was being spoken to. 

 "Vecchio. Yer buddy." They were crossing the street to speak to the man
in the dirty bookstore. 

 "He's taking care of some personal business." 

 More to the point, Ray Vecchio was down at the bank signing a million
documents that assured the Financial World that neither he nor his money
were in anyway deceased. 

 Neither of them mentioned Kowalski's outburst from the previous day.
Fraser half expected to be asked if he told Welsh about the incident.
Kowalski also didn't make any attempt to be any more approachable. The man
in the dirty bookstore didn't want to part with any videotapes of his
customers. 

 "We don't care about yer customers," Kowalski growled across the counter.
Fraser stood by the door and studied the Consulate across the street. He
didn't know the windows to the lobby were so visible from street level. 

 "We just need to match 'em up with some of the others to see if any
people keep showing up and look suspicious. You gonna comply or do I have
to slap you with a fine or two for something that you probably did and
haven't been caught yet for, if you know what I mean." 

 It was a bluff but the man fell for it. "I can't get any more citations
from you guys. If I give you the tapes, you keep me and my store out of
it." 

 "Done. We'll be back in an hour. Have the tapes ready and I'll make sure
my fellow officers leave you alone." 

 Done. The last of the neighbourhood surveillance tapes was almost theirs.
Fraser followed Kowalski out the door and over to the park next door. 

 "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?" Fraser asked as the
two men sat down on a bench. Kowalski pulled out a notebook from his back
pocket and jotted something illegible on it. "Someone casing the building.
The deliveries don't make sense, they don't seem like one guy's doing
them. Something's queer about 'em, that's all. This 'park' thing that
Moffatt did. You don't know what that means?" 

 "This is the only park I can think of that has anything to do with the
Consulate and Inspector Moffatt wasn't the type of person to spend time
here." 

 The conversation was bracing towards human. The tone was downright civil.
Any minute now, they would be exchanging pleasantries. The wall would come
down, the friendship might begin.... Kowalski's cell phone rang. 

 "Kowalski.... Yeah... Yeah...." A few more exchanges of 'Yeah's and Ray
snapped the phone shut. "I gotta go." 

 "What about the tapes." 

 "You can pick 'em up." 

 Oh God, not a repeat of yesterday. This guy was spending every last ounce
of Fraser's good will. He didn't know if he was up to being run over by
the steam truck with the funny hair. 

 "May I ask where're you are going?" 

 "I got a lead on something." 

 "And you don't intend to tell me what that lead might involve." 

 That killer sigh was heard from again. "I don't like to partner up." 

 "I know, I know. You don't like to work that way. But this is my
Consulate and my former Supervisor who is being threatened and I need to
be apart of this investigation." 

 "I'm not Vecchio." He tucked the phone away and stood up. "You want
answers, you talk to him." 

 "He's not here to talk to." 

 "Then you got a problem."  

 Fraser picked up the last video an hour later. He walked it over to the
precinct in hopes that he would find Kowalski. There was no sign of the
GTO in the precinct parking lot. Instead, he saw Ray Vecchio getting out
of his car. 

 "Everything all right with the bankers?" 

 Vecchio was smiling. It had gone well. "I've been invited to open a new
account, minimum charges and very low interest. And I got a toaster." 

 "Congratulations." 

 Vecchio nodded towards the video in Fraser's hand. "You get your
Blockbuster card renewed?" 

 "Detective Kowalski asked for surveillance tapes from one of the stores
near the Consulate. I haven't had an opportunity to look at it yet." 

 "If it's Kowalski's idea, I wouldn't waste your time finding the rewind
button."  

 In the squad room, Fraser asked Frannie if she had seen Detective
Kowalski yet. Frannie ignored the question and waved a fresh sandwich
under his chin. "Pastrami on Rye, Frase?" 

 "Uh, no, thank you, Francesca. So you haven't seen Ray Kowalski?" 

 "Two Rays in one place. Punishment or what. Yeah, Prince Charming just
bought another sandwich from me a second ago. Actually, you just missed
him. He threw a ten dollar bill in my hand, and chased after some blond
bimbo walking down the hall." 

 "Thank you very much. Which direction?" 

 "Turn left and just look for some blond floozy being harassed by a
something that crawled up from the basement." 

 Fraser wasn't sure what to make of the tone, but to be honest, he really
didn't want to know. Francessca was turning into as much of a puzzle as
everyone else in his life seemed to be. 

 He only made it a few steps down the corridor before he stopped. Ray
Kowalski was talking to a blond woman and there was a smile on his face. A
genuine smile. Fraser didn't think Ray Kowalski could smile to save his
life. 

 The woman was certainly no bimbo, and if she were, she would be the
highest ranking, best paid bimbo to work in the States Attorney's office.
It was Stella Kowalski. 

 Fraser was close enough to hear their conversation and drink from the
water fountain at the same time. 

 "Nah, I'm here for a while. Filling in for .... I'm here for a while." 

 She frowned. "They moved you again." 

 "Hey, I'm a moving around kinda guy, remember? It's good. I'm good.
What've you been up to?" 

 Fraser eased away from the water fountain and slipped casually over to
the bulletin board. He pretended to read something about tires for sale. 

 "Nothing. Work. The usual. I really have to get going." She looked at her
wrist for the time. There was no watch. 

 "You here about a case? Anything... anything I know?" 

 Stella Kowalski was obviously uncomfortable. "It's the Renaldo murder.
I'm sorry, Ray, I've got to go." 

 "Oh yeah. Sure, yeah, me too." He stood back to let her pass. He
obviously wanted to stay with her longer. She obviously wanted the hell
out of here. "Maybe we could get a coffee sometime-" 

 "No, Ray." Two definite words. They shot him to the ground. He shrugged
and tried to act like a good sport about it. "Okay. Whatever. Um - well, I
gotta get movin'. See you around, Stell." 

 "Sure. See you." 

 They moved towards each other for the offertory peck on the cheek. She
backed out and turned. Ray watched her walk away down the hall. He looked
sadly after her long after she had disappeared. Fraser pretended not to
notice. He found something fascinating in his cuff to absorb his
attention. After what seemed like an eternity later, Ray was still
starring down the hall. Fraser turned to look in that direction but there
was nobody there. 

 "Ray?" 

 Nothing. 

 Fraser cleared his throat and politely tried again. "Ray?" 

 He turned his head. "Yeah? What?" 

 "Um... nothing. You seem distracted." 

 "Oh. Sorry. Let's get down to the book store and get that tape." 

 Fraser held up the video. "I've already done that, as you asked." 

 "Yeah? Oh, yeah, right. Let's find someplace to watch it."  

 Kowalski found an empty room and a VCR. Nothing in the surveillance
caught his attention until the end. "Hmmm," he mumbled to himself. 

 Fraser couldn't tell if Ray was paying attention. His mindset still
seemed to be back in the hallway, watching the woman leave his life. 

 Fraser looked at him oddly. " 'Hmmmm', what?" 

 Kowalski hit pause and leaned towards the TV set. "Nothin'. 

 "Well, it must be something because it made you say, 'Hmmm'." 

 "Not now, Fraser, I'm thinking'." 

 Anyone else wouldn't have let that go. But Fraser was a gentleman. 

 Kowalski rubbed his chin and kept staring at a corner of the TV screen.
"There's something about that guy's jacket..." 

 "Which guy?" 

 Kowalski pointed. "Over there. Standing at the corner. He's half turned.
That emblem, it's familiar." He pulled out a pair of horn-rimmed glasses
and put them on. "It's a gang jacket." 

 "You can tell that from the small image?" 

 "I done enough time in the hoods, I think I can spot a gang coat any
where. Funny, he'd be showing up in three of the videos we got." 

 "Ahhh." 

 Kowalski sat back and took the glasses off. "What do you mean by that -
'Ohhhh." 

 "Ahhh. Nothing, I was just thinking that you hadn't mentioned a gang coat
had appeared before." 

 "Well maybe I was keeping it to myself in case it didn't turn out to be
anything." 

 "Yes, but if you had communicated something that crossed your mind I may
have been able to communicate back." 

 "Like this?" 

 "Yes, for example." 

 "Then that's why we're not communicating. Cause if I had to do this every
time - forget it." Ray put back the glasses and peered into the TV again.
"The Sects. That's the jacket." The glasses came off again. "A couple of
them got busted a year ago for messing around with explosives, small
detonators, that kind of thing." Kowalski got up and pushed the eject
button. The tape popped out and he stuffed it in his pocket. "I'm going to
check something out." 

 "In the lower south side?" 

 "None of your business." 

 "How many times do I have to remind you what Lieutenant said." 

 Kowalski didn't want to hear it again. "Don't bother. You show up in that
hood dressed like Mountie Boy and you'll get a crowd. Where the hell's the
Santa Suit, anyway?" 

 "I am not obliged to wear it every day," he informed Ray a little too
defiantly. 

 "Whatever." 

 "I'm coming with you." 

 This time, he gave up a lot sooner and sighed. "Whatever."  

 Kowalski had returned to being the moody bastard he was before he saw the
woman in the precinct. 

 Fraser could have sworn that the smile on Ray's face was genuine; as
genuine as the destroyed look when the woman basically told him to buzz
off. 

 Fraser was only a few months past Victoria. He knew destroyed faces. 

 They stopped at a small park across from an abandoned construction sight.
A few young guys were sitting around, smoking. They all wore some form of
gang colours. Some of the men were white, some Chinese, and some African
American. 

 "I'm still not exactly sure what you're looking for here," Fraser said. 

 "Me neither. Call it a hunch." 

 "You think these gentlemen are responsible for egging the consulate?"
Fraser wasn't buying it for a moment. 

 "I donno. Like I said, it's a hunch. Might be nothing." 

 "Don't you think....?" 

 Kowalski wasn't listening. He got out of the car and strolled over to the
neighbourhood gentlemen. Fraser watched him flash his badge and entertain
the men with his brand of the English language. Some of the guys smirked.
A couple of them glared at him. One guy sat there and stared at the joint
in his hand. Kowalski didn't see him coming. One of the guys had given him
a piece of paper that he casually stuffed into his back pocket. 

 The young man with the tempting joint got up and walked away. The man who
gave Kowalski the paper joined him by the curb. 

 Fraser went over to the two of them. He wanted to have a word with them.
Instead, he never got a chance to get the first syllable out. 

 A car breezed by and sprayed them with bullets. By the time Kowalski
turned around, the two wandering gang members were lying dead on the
ground. Fraser, covered in their blood, was lying a few feet away.  

 Vecchio swung the Riv into the parking space behind the ambulance and
didn't bother shutting down the engine. He found Fraser sitting on the
bumper of the ambulance as a paramedic shot a flashlight into his eyes.
Welsh and Kowalski were standing a few feet away. They spoke in low tones.
Vecchio didn't give the paramedic much more than three seconds to complete
the examination before he pounced. "How's he doing?" 

 The paramedic glanced towards the body bags on the sidewalk. "A lot
better off than those guys. He smacked his head on the pavement but I
don't think we got a concussion. You sure you don't want us to take you to
the hospital, Constable?" 

 Fraser closed his eyes. "No. I'm fine." 

 "You sure, Benny? I can get you there in two minutes flat." If Ray
Vecchio hadn't been a well-connected Detective he would have had speeding
tickets up the arse a long time ago. 

 "It's not serious. I'll be fine." 

 Vecchio crouched down in front of him with a look on his face that went
somewhere between concerned and homicidal. "What happened here?" he asked
even though he knew damn well what happened. The son of a bitch with the
fucked up hair almost got his closest friend killed. 

 "Nothing more than bad timing - well, good timing if you think about it.
You don't need to be concerned." 

 Vecchio wasn't even close to being unconcerned. "You stay here, you got
that? You don't move." 

 He stormed over to the cause of everything that was wrong and evil in
this world and shoved Kowalski against the car. When Kowalski didn't seem
to react from the first push, he shoved him again.. "What the hell did you
do to him?" 

 Kowalski stumbled and nearly lost his footing. He could have lost his
temper but something miraculous kept it at the door, and merely barking to
be let out. "I didn't do anything." 

 "The guy doesn't even carry a gun! You don't put unarmed people in those
kind of situations, you dumb ass." 

 Welsh stepped in between the two men. "He's not hurt, Vecchio. You want
to keep that in mind, please? This isn't Kowalski's fault. He didn't know
this was going to happen any more than Fraser did." 

 Vecchio's hating eyes were glued to Kowalski, who actually seemed to be
startled by the attack. "You let anything happen to the Mountie or anyone
else in that squad room we work in and you are finished." 

 "That some kind of threat, Butt Breath?" 

 "You want to find out right now?" 

 Welsh eased himself between the two men and hoped he wouldn't have to
kill one of them. He knew Vecchio's devotion to Fraser; he wasn't sure
about Kowalski's devotion to anything other than the job. This was one of
the facts he was warned about when he heard Kowalski was coming to the
27th. "You guys go at this some other time. Vecchio, I want you to get
every statement within ten blocks of here. Kowalski, you get Fraser out of
here." 

 Vecchio didn't move. He stared at Kowalski and told Welsh, "I'll take
Fraser. Kowalski can deal with the statements." 

 Welsh had that look on his face. "I want you on site. You gonna argue
with me about this?" 

 "No, Sir." 

 Kowalski tried next. "I can get the notes, Sir. Let Vecchio take him." 

 Welsh started to count to ten, only made it to three and roared, "You get
Fraser out of here. Now." 

 And that was that.  

 "What the hell is this?" Ray Kowalski asked as he walked into the world
behind the door marked 3J. 

 "My apartment," Fraser slowly sat down on the side of the bed. He didn't
like showing his weariness but it was a little late for the Tough Canadian
act. He still wasn't sure what happened before, except that one minute he
was walking over to ask one of the gang members a question and the next
minute he was flat on his back, staring up at Kowalski's frightened face. 

 Right now, Ray Kowalski was temporarily preoccupied with the primitive
state of the apartment to notice the distant state of its occupant. A
Hudson's Bay blanket was neatly folded on the side of the single bed.
There was little furniture except for a few chairs. The only items to
distinguish the owner of this place from a termite were a few family
photos on a small table off the kitchen. 

 "This is a joke, right?" Ray hadn't expected anything but genuine,
wall-to-wall Ikea, highlighted by spotless melamine and ruthlessly shiny
walls. 

 "No," Fraser sighed. 

 Ray slowly finished his inspection and wandered over to Fraser without a
clue about how to deal with the situation. He didn't know why Welsh made
him look after the Canadian, and he was ready to kill all three of them
because of it. Kowalski didn't do well with people. They didn't do well
with him. Christ. Fraser was sitting on his bed, hunched over and staring
at his feet. 

 "You all right?" Kowalski finally asked. "Hey - Fraser." 

 He looked up. "Sorry - what?" 

 "Nothin'. Your uniform's covered in blood. You look like you just met
Rambo or something. You got a shower in here?" Fraser didn't answer and
the Little General in Kowalski took over. "Come on, get cleaned up. You'll
feel better." 

 "I feel fine now." 

 "Yeah, that's why you look like a big-ass Mac truck just missed you.
Look, I know that was pretty freaky what happened back there but maybe
once you're changed and feeling a little better. Hey! Shit!" Something
white and massive flew through the open window in the kitchen. Kowalski
jumped back against the nearest wall and fumbled for his gun. "What the
f-" 

 "Diefenbaker, sit," Fraser ordered quietly. 

 The wolf sniffed Kowalski's knees and wandered over to his owner. He sat
by Fraser and kept his eyes on the guy who was glued to the wall. 

 "Geeze, you have a wolf on top of everything else that's weird aboutcha?"
Ray gasped. 

 "Diefenbaker, this is Ray Kowalski." 

 The wolf growled at Ray in a low, dangerous tone. 

 "He's perfectly harmless, Ray. Well, unless your hand happens to be in
your pocket, reaching for your weapon, that is." 

 Ray looked down and slowly pulled his right hand from his coat. "Oh.
Yeah. Sorry 'bout that." 

 The growling stopped. 

 Fraser stood up. "He's part wolf. I'm going to change." He crossed the
room towards the closet. 

 Ray and Diefenbaker stared at each other for an endless moment. 

 "Why is he looking at me like that?" Ray finally called out. 

 "Why are you looking at him like that?" 

 "Cause I never seen a wolf in an apartment maybe!" 

 "He's never seen you either." 

 Ray delicately tiptoed away. Out of immediate danger, he went to the
refrigerator. "You want something to eat? You should have something to
eat." Then he opened the door. "Or not." There wasn't much in the fridge
that looked edible. Ray's refrigerator wasn't much better but at least he
kept up the pretense of eating well. 

 Fraser appeared holding the bloodied jacket on one arm. "Do you know this
is the most I've heard you speak at one time since we've met?" 

 "Yeah, well, don't go getting used to it or anything." Kowalski reached
for an orange that was resting on the counter. He sat down at the wobbly
kitchen table and began to peal the orange. 

 Fraser sat down and watched the peeling process with interest. Kowalski
had the rind in one piece by the time it was off the orange. "Was that
States Attorney Kowalski I saw you talking with?" he casually asked. 

 The peeling stopped. "Why?" 

 "No reason. It just occurred to me that you share the same last names.
Are you related by chance?" 

 "Related? Stella 'n me? Not quite. She's my.... We were married for a
while. I was... She's my ex-wife." 

 "Ah," Fraser understated. Ex-wife. For some reason, he never saw that one
coming. Kowalski divorced - maybe; Kowalski ever married - no. 

 "What 'Ah.' She's my Ex. No big deal. Sometimes we run into each other. I
haven't seen her since we signed the papers. Today was the first time I
seen her since the ... We made things officially over a couple of months
ago. Off and on. Now officially off." 

 "Oh. I was just curious." 

 "Yeah, well, don't go blabbing it to anyone. My life is my business." 

 "I get that impression." 

 Kowalski ripped the orange apart and put half in front of Fraser. "So how
long you lived in this place? Don't they pay you any money for being a
Canadian over here?" 

 "The Canadian Government pays very well, thank you." 

 "Don't you have a stereo? TV? Nothing?" 

 "And I don't spend much time here, so I don't need as much as you'd
think." 

 "You got an old corsage in your fridge. You use that much?" 

 "Well, that was for an evening with a young lady and I didn't know what
colour her dress would be so I bought several." 

 Kowalski stuffed the rest of the orange into his mouth. "Yer nuts, you
know that?" 

 "Yes, I've been told. I don't suppose you'd tell me what was on that
piece of paper one of the men gave you just before the shooting began?" 

 Kowalski's face crinkled. "What paper?" 

 "A small piece of paper. I saw him hand it to you. You stuffed it into
your back pocket." 

 Again the face registered nothing for a second. "Hold on...." Ray reached
back and dug a crumbled paper out of his jeans. "Almost forgot about
this." It was a matchbook cover and on the other side was a phone number.
"One of the guys gave me the number of someone to call when I asked about
their business. Told him I had a partner I wanted to do away with." He
watched Fraser for any signs of a smile. "Okay, so it turns out I could
have come closer than I thought. Listen, you get cleaned up, then we'll
figure out what we got here." 

 "Does Lieutenant Welsh know about this?." 

 Kowalski's eyes darkened. "We can't tell him, not til we check it out. I
know you're a bit rattled and all, but we can't say anything to any one,
at least not now." 

 "But what if we're suppressing important evidence? I'm not sure I'm
comfortable with this. Two men were killed today." 

 "I know it doesn't feel right to you but I got this hunch that says we
lay low with this. We started out on some clown sending threats to your
old boss to what happened today. I don't know if it's a coincidence or not
but something's queer about all this." 

 Fraser hated this kind of situation because there was always too much at
stake and the loser usually lost it all. He could tell Kowalski was
waiting hard to hear that Fraser might actually trust him. Maybe this was
what was at stake. "You're certain it's a strong hunch?" 

 "Yeah. Really strong." 

 "Then, I'll be quiet. But if we get nowhere, we go to the Lieutenant." 

 "You got it. Go get cleaned up, we'll grab a couple of burgers and figure
this out some more." 

 "I don't like holding back information." 

 "It'll be good, Fraser. If the address is nothing, or something even, we
tell Welsh. Just lets check it out first. Okay? Okay. It's settled then.
Go change, you look like shit." 

 "I'll be a few minutes then. The bathtub is down the hall." 

 "Who the hell has a bathtub down the hall?" 

 "I do." 

 "Freak." 

 "Understood."	

 The door to the apartment burst open five minutes later. It wasn't Fraser
returning from the shower, it was an angry Ray Vecchio. 

 "Where is he?" was the only thing he wanted to know. 

 Kowalski was at the window, trying to find anything of a decent view. In
this neighbourhood, he realized, there was never going to be such a thing.
He turned around and said plainly, "Taking a shower." 

 "Then while he's outa here, you want to tell me what the hell's going on
and why I shouldn't brain you right here. You could have got him killed." 

 "No, the guys with the guns could have done that." 

 Vecchio took a step closer. "There are a few rules here you better get
straight. You may not care about getting your partners killed but stay the
hell away from mine. We both know what I'm talking about. You being at the
27th was a mistake from the get go." 

 "Your folks send you to Bozo School on a scholarship, Vecchio, or didja
just get good grades all on yer own? We were looking though some security
videos and something made me want to check out Walter Street. It was a
hunch. I don't know what the hell else was going on there." 

 "A hunch? You almost get him killed cause of some stupid hunch? What, are
you nuts or something? Ever heard of solid evidence?" 

 Kowalski was almost at the end of his rope with this clown. "You really
think you're King Shit, don't you? Yer not, Vecchio. You're this tiny
little ball of dirt that doesn't really amount to shit." 

 Vecchio coolly stared him down. He had the kind patience this guy in
front of him only dreamt of. "You can go now, Kowalski. Fraser's not
interested in following through with this with you. As soon as this case
is done, then you're on you way and he and I don't have to see you again."


 The insides were tightening again. Kowalski tried to remember the
counting trick. His self-control had improved a lot since the last time.
Vecchio was smugly staring at him. Kowalski wanted to beat the shit out of
him; he wanted to throw him out the window and watch him hit the pavement.


 "Yeah, I'm out of here, all right." It was a no brainier. "The hell with
both of you." 

 And he left.  

 Fraser returned with a towel around his waist and his hat on his head. He
looked for Kowalski but found Vecchio pouring food into Diefenbaker's
bowl. 

 "Where's Ray? I mean, the other ... oh, never mind." 

 Vecchio topped up the bowel and stood up. "You ought to think about
feeding this wolf, Fraser." 

 "Yes, I'll try. What are you doing here?" 

 "Checking up on you. How're you doing?" 

 "Where did Ray Kowalski go?" 

 "He left. Don't look at me like that, he's still got his front teeth. You
didn't answer my question. You feeling okay from the blast?" 

 Fraser stood there and tried not to shiver. It didn't work. "Yes." 

 Vecchio eased up. "Benny, go change. We'll talk when you're looking
better. You want me to order a pizza or something?" 

 "No, thank you." Fraser turned towards his closet but stopped midway.
"Did Ray say anything to you about the case?" 

 "What, like he's sorry for being assigned to it when it should have been
mine?" 

 The question alone, clumsy as it was, should have piqued Ray's curiosity.
Fraser didn't pursue it because he realized he got off lucky. He changed
into street clothes and returned to the kitchen. 

 "Where did Detective Kowalski go, Ray?" 

 Vecchio was at the table, finishing the piece of orange that Kowalski
left behind. "How the hell should I know? Far enough I hope. He's dead
weight, Fraser. I thought we both agreed you'd back off and let this one
sink back down to the bottom of the ocean." 

 "You're being more vitriolic than usual about him. Is it everything in
general or something in specific that makes you dislike him so much?" 

 "You mean besides for almost getting you killed out there? I got no time
to waste on him, Benny, cause at the end of this case he'll slither on to
some other unsuspecting precinct." There was silence from Fraser , and Ray
admitted what was hard to remember, let alone say. "Okay, you want the
truth? Fine. I'm at my desk this afternoon and I get a call from Huey
telling me, 'Hey, Fraser's been involved in a shooting on Waker Street'.
You know the first thing that came into my head? What else was I supposed
to think, Fraser? It wasn't even a couple of months ago." 

 Fraser didn't need an explanation. "I'm sorry. I didn't think ... I ...
sorry." 

 "S'okay. And I'm allowed not to like people, you know. It's in my
constitutional rights as a cop or something like that. I'll keep a lid on
it for your sake, but I'm not going out of my way to play nice with him. I
don't like him." 

 "No one's asking you to. Well, I suppose I'm asking you to - but if not
ripping his character to shreds every other minute is the best you can do,
I'll accept that." 

 "Fine." 

 "Good." 

 "Lovely. We done with this conversation, Benny - I'd like to get back to
normal conversation. You sure you don't want me to order a pizza or
something?" 

 "No thank you. To be honest, I'm feeling exhausted from the day and could
use a good night's rest." 

 Vecchio was looking at him carefully. "You're okay, right?" 

 "Just very tired. I'll see you in the morning, Ray. I'm fine." 

 "If you say so." 

 "Well, yes, I just did." 

 Vecchio rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're fine. See you tomorrow, Benny." 

 Fraser closed the door behind him. A voice from the window remarked,
"You're the popular boy tonight. Why'd you lie to the Yank?" 

 His father was sitting on the windowsill, dressed in a parka, and holding
a fishing rod. He dangled the rod back and forth out the window. 

 "Which Yank?" Fraser asked dimly. "And I didn't lie to either of them." 

 "Oh, then you're feeling fine, I assume." 

 "It's a sore shoulder that doesn't mean anything other than I fell on it
today when almost shot by a bullet at close range. Do you mind telling me
what you're doing?" 

 "Fishing." 

 "Are you fishing for anything in particular or just for something to do?"


 "A little of both." Bob Fraser rested the pole against the wall and swung
his legs onto the living room floor. "You know, I highly suspect those two
fellows would function a lot better without you in the picture." 

 "Fine. I'll bite. Why do you think that they would function a lot better
without me in the picture?" 

 'Because they're both too busy trying to be the better officer in front
of you. And even though they wouldn't admit it, they are a lot more alike
than they think." 

 "Uh-huh." 

 "Oh, nod all you want, Benton, I know what I'm talking about.
Competition. It's the lifeblood of any group of like-minded people. You
ought to know, you're competitive yourself. You don't show it as outwardly
as those two yanks, but you've got a good streak of it. Truth be told, I
may have a dab of it in my blood as well. I remember one time a cadet
named Lewis Layton once tried to take on every one of us in a boxing match
during a snowstorm. Damned fool didn't even use gloves. Know what he used?
Mittens. Bright, orange wool mittens. And the next thing you know...." 

 Fraser was going to have to lay down if his father was going to drone on
like this. He closed his eyes and continued to listen while Fraser Senior
told him about whatever it was until he woke to an angry thumping at the
door. It was after midnight. When he opened the door, he saw Vecchio in
the hallway looking tired, and in a terrible mood. 

 Fraser stared at him for a moment. "Didn't you just leave?" 

 Vecchio barely had the energy or patience but he managed to sigh anyway.
"That was three hours ago, Benny. Get dressed, we gotta go to Chicago
General." 

 "We do?" Fraser wondered how Ray knew that his head and shoulder were
hurting more now than when they hit the pavement. That was the kind of
friend this man was. Ray Vecchio didn't have to even ask; he only had to
sense that Fraser was.... 

 "That idiot Kowalski. I just got a call from Welsh that there was a fire
on Browning and guess-who was staking the place out at the time. He got
caught in the basement area and got a shitload of smoke down his gullet.
Ambulance took him to the General and Welsh wants us to check on him. Is
he Kowalski's secret uncle or something? Anyway, get dressed and let's get
this over with."  

 Fraser and Ray Vecchio arrived at the Emergency Room in record time - in
order to get himself back to his bed in record time, Vecchio repeated. 

 The man behind the admin desk had to look up and down the list of
admissions twice before he finally found the name, 'Kowalski'. "Oh, him.
Yeah ... show's here he's...gone." 

 "Gone?" Fraser echoed politely. 

 Vecchio stepped in. "Gone as in gone to the other side or gone as in...."


 "As in signed himself out." The young man sighed. He wasn't up for any
debates on semantics this evening. He had already dealt with five drunks,
one lost nun and he didn't want to go any rounds with sarcastic policemen.


 "Signed himself out? When the hell did this happen?" 

 "Ray, please," Fraser intervened. "Perhaps I should handle this." 

 The young man solved the dilemma by pointing to a nurse and an orderly
who were talking down the hall. "Perhaps you should see those two. Bernie
signed him out." 

 "Thank you kindly," Fraser rhymed out and dragged Vecchio by the sleeve.
"Let's go." 

 "Twenty minutes, ago, Fraser, I was in my bed and sound asleep," Vecchio
growled. 

 "Yes, I know, you've mentioned it several times now. Excuse me,
Ma'am...." Fraser spoke to an older woman who had a clipboard in her hand.
"The gentleman at the desk suggested I speak to you about a fellow police
officer who was brought in not long ago." 

 "Tall, skinny guy with funny hair?" 

 "Bingo," Vecchio confirmed, feeling smugly supported by this voice of
reason. 

 "Yes, Ma'am. Detective Raymond Kowalski." 

 "Signed himself out." 

 "I see. And when did he sign himself out?" 

 "Not too long ago. He never stays. He's got to come here because that's
police procedure, but once he's signed the form, we can't keep him." 

 Ray Vecchio gave up the smirk he was holding back on and coughed up a
load of disgust instead. "That is so typical. Not only does that moron go
on a stakeout without telling either of his partners... I'm done with this
guy, Fraser. I'm done with his crap." 

 "Ray, please." 

 "I'm not working with him anymore. That's it. Big Shot Cop. Too tough to
stay in a hospital, not afraid of anything. I really, really hate guys
like that. I'll meet you at the car, Fraser. If you're not back in five,
I'm going home." 

 "Yes, Ray." Fraser patiently waited for his friend to storm down the
hall. Once Vecchio was safely out of earshot, Fraser continued his
conversation with the Nurse. "May I ask why he never stays for treatment?
I'm working with him for the first time and he's a difficult person to
read." 

 "I'll say. Guy's one contradiction after the other. I'm surprised he's
working with anyone. From everything I've heard he's a good cop, he just
doesn't play well with others. Kinda cute though." 

 "He doesn't like hospitals," the quiet nurse offered up. The others
turned to look at her for more details and she became uncomfortable. "I
asked him once. Remember when he came in with the collarbone injury?
Anyway, that's why he never stays." 

 "That's not much of a reason," the first nurse decided. "I don't like the
dentist but I still go." "No, it's more than that. I think ... I think
he's afraid of hospitals. Like a phobia with heights or something." 

 "Hmmm. The number of times he's been here you'd think he'd want to change
professions, then." 

 "He's a police officer," Fraser informed her. "He does what he has to, to
do his job." 

 "Kinda brave if you ask me," the quiet nurse said. From the look of the
other nurse, the fact was clear that no one asked her. Fraser appreciated
the candid observation, rare as it was about Stanley Raymond Kowalski.	

 Ray Kowalski ignored the irritating, crisp and continuous knocking on the
door for as long as he could. He slowly made his way to the peephole and
sighed at whom he saw. He needed this like he needed a boot to the head. 

 "It's Constable Benton Fraser," the familiar voice broadcast. 

 "Yeah, I figured that. You want to keep your voice down so the entire
floor doesn't have to know you're here." He reluctantly flipped the lock
and opened the door. "Whaddya want?" 

 Fraser slipped past him before Ray could close the door on his face. "I
heard about the fire." 

 Ray Kowalski shook his aching head and followed his guest into the living
room. "Mr. Mountie's going to give me shit for this? Great, like this
couldn't wait til tomorrow!" 

 "No, that's not why I'm here." 

 "You got a lot of nerve, you know that? I gave the fire report to the guy
from the 23rd. Welsh can get it to you tomorrow." He dropped on to the
couch without much hope that this conversation was going to end in the
near future. 

 "I'm not here about the fire report." 

 "Yeah, right. I'm not apologizing for not telling you I was over at
Browning Street. Working with you two isn't my thing and I told you that a
million times." 

 "Well, perhaps I'm a little concerned that in an investigation such as
this, you acted independently - and recklessly, if I might add." 

 "You guys just can't let this team-work crap go, can you? What - you all
go to the same summer camp or something? I'm off duty, Fraser, I don't
have to listen to any of your crap. This is my time and my place so you
can bring on all your complaints tomorrow at work, where I'll be paid to
ignore you and Vecchio." 

 "That's not why I'm here either." 

 "Bullshit," he growled. He wanted this guy the hell out of here pronto. 

 "I'm simply here to see if you are all right. They told me at the
hospital that you had checked yourself out. Are you feeling all right? Is
there anything you need?" 

 Ray lifted his head from the peace of his hands. "Excuse me?" 

 Fraser was also confused. "I said, 'I came over to see if you needed
anything'." 

 "Huh?" 

 "It's actually rather simple if you think about this clearly, Ray." 

 Kowalski was baffled. "Let me get this straight. You came all the way
over here cause you ... wanted ... to ... know how I was?" 

 "Yes." Fraser paused and tilted his head. "You seem to have a little
difficulty understanding this concept." 

 "That's 'cause nobody around here does that kind of thing." 

 "Well, maybe if they did, you'd all be a lot better off. Your voice
sounds raspy. Did you inhale a lot of smoke?" 

 "Enough to get me hauled down to Emergency. Throat's sore but they said
that'll pass in a day or two." He looked at Fraser oddly. "Is that the
kind of thing you came over to find out?" 

 "Yes, pretty much. If you're up to it, I'd also like to know what you
were doing at the address those men gave you and why you chose not to let
Detective Vecchio or me know what you were doing and if you found anything
out before the fire began." 

 "I found out that whoever's pissed off at you for whatever reason is
still pissed off at you. I heard one of the guys from this afternoon say
that before he torched the place. That's what I found out. Big deal. Did
you tell Vecchio about the address we got?" It was a loaded question from
all directions. 

 Fraser quietly observed the 'we'. "No, not yet. We'll tell him tomorrow.
I respect your hunches but I also respect his participation." 

 Ray Kowalski shrugged his shoulders and wandered into the kitchen.
"Whatever." 

 Fraser could hear the sound of running water. "When I returned from my
shower, you were gone but Detective Vecchio was there. Why didn't you stay
too?" 

 "Don't know if you noticed or not but he's not my favourite person and
I'm not his. Besides, he'll finish this case up with you. You don't need
me." 

 "I think we do. I wish you and Ray wouldn't be so hostile towards each
other. You both have a lot in common." 

 Ray appeared with a glass of water in his hand. "I ain't going to be
around long enough to make friends, Fraser. That's how it works, or
haven't you figured that out yet either. You Canadians miss the obvious
sometimes, don'tcha." 

 Fraser shook his head. "Yes, perhaps we do. I had thought that, possibly,
you and I had become friends. Or, at the very least, not enemies. I
suppose I was wrong." 

 "Yep." 

 "And you assume that because I have Ray Vecchio for a friend, I don't
need any more." 

 "If he's the only friend you got, then you're in deep doodoo. They all
like you up there in Mountie land?" 

 "Every last one of us." 

 Ray stared at him for a moment, then realized the Mountie was probably
joking. "... And you came over here. To make sure I wasn't dead?" 

 "Yes." 

 "That's the kind of thing they do up there in Canada?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Then yer all freaks." 

 "I understand what it's like to be judged by people who think they know
who you are because of what you wear, or what they have only heard about
you." 

 "Whatever you say." 

 Fraser didn't go any further. Ray Vecchio's warnings of stepping too far
into someone else's life suddenly crept back into his head. This time they
made sense. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'll let you get back to
sleep." 

 Fraser headed towards the door. His shoulder was aching and he wanted to
get an ice pack on it before the pain got unbearable again. The man behind
him probably had a collection of various sized ice packs and remedies that
would keep any fearless cop away from hospitals. 

 Kowalski quietly said, "You get used to stuff following you around
whether half of it's true or not." 

 Fraser stopped at the door and turned around. "That doesn't mean it has
to stick with you; or have any more validation than any other idol
gossip." 

 "You heard about that Lieutenant's wife, over at the Thirty-Third?" 

 "Well, yes. Something about her being with child." 

 "That's a nice way of putting it. There was a wife. Nothing more. She
kept making moves on me. She'd go after anything in pants, try to get you
out of 'em, if you know what I mean." 

 "Uh, yes, I believe I do know what you mean." Memories of the Used-Car
Sales-Woman from Hell still lingered in his mind like a bad clich. A few
other memories joined in. "You know, someone at the precinct once began
romantic rumours about herself and me. It spread like wildfire. Oh dear,
the looks I got from people, especially the women. Some of them glared at
me, others..." He tugged at his collar. "Well, it wasn't a very
comfortable experience." 

 "Chicks spreading cool rumours about you isn't quite the same as being
known as some homicidal freak, Fraser." Despite this truth, Ray couldn't
help wondering which one of the Fraser's smitten women was responsible for
this rumour. 

 Fraser slowly sat down on the couch across from Ray. He wasn't told to go
to hell so he stayed where he was. "No, I suppose not." 

 Kowalski's voice was fading again and it was hurting his throat to talk
but this didn't seem to matter anymore. "No matter what, stuff still
follows you. That's mostly why I keep moving and don't make a fuss when
I'm transferred. People aren't going to like me, so they aren't going to
try. And on top of that, I'm not used to being partnered up with anyone
for more than an hour, let alone two guys, one of which hates my guts like
nobody's hated me in a long time. And that's saying a lot." 

 "You haven't put in much of an effort either." 

 "I'm not good with people," Ray quietly cleared his throat and managed to
add, "They make me uncomfortable so I act like I do. I'm just .... I'm not
good with 'em." 

 "I understand that." 

 "What the hell do you know about being uncomfortable? You're 'Mr. People'
out there." The spite in his voice was rich. 

 "I know more than you think. I'm far more comfortable on my own than in
most social situations. I simply deal with it differently than you. I live
as I live because I prefer solitude to company. My wolf is the same way." 

 "Yer wolf. Right." Ray tried to piece this new information into his
existing vision of this Mountie, and it actually began to take shape.
"Lone wolf. Yer both a couple of lone wolfs." 

 "I'd say we weren't the only ones." 

 "You know, sometimes it might be nice to walk into a room and not think
the whole world's staring' at me. Even by the freaks who don't know me
from a hole in the wall. Christ, listen to me. All that smoke musta hit my
brain on the way in. You tell anyone we had this conversation, you're
history." 

 "Understood." Fraser got to his feet again. " I'll leave you to your
rest. I hope you'll give some thought to taking a sick day today and
letting your throat heal." 

 "You could do the same thing. You been holding that shoulder like it's
gonna fall off. You want some ice?" 

 "No, it's fine - well, it's a little sore. I think a good night's rest is
what's called for. I'm sorry to have woken you." He got up and again,
headed in the direction of the door. And, again, he stopped and hesitated.
"On the other hand, I'm glad we've been able to talk. I honestly do know
what it's like to feel like an outsider, especially in the 27th Precinct.
More so these days. There was an incident, a murder case that I involved
Detective Vecchio in a few months ago. It got ugly. I put him in a very
bad place. Several, come to think of it. Every time I've walked in there
since, I can't help feeling that they are looking at me and judging me all
over again. So, I actually do know a little bit about how it has been for
you the past couple of days." 

 "You don't look like you want to tell me what the case was." 

 "No. Not really." 

 "I won't ask. I learned to keep out of other cops' business a long time
ago." 

 "Thank you. I appreciate that." 

 Ray nodded. Without knowing it, he was smiling. "Okay." 

 "Okay. We'll pick up the case tomorrow then. Or today. Or whenever
tomorrow becomes today. Oh dear, I don't even know what time it is." 

 "It's tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by." 

 "It's what partners do."  

 "Hey, Kowalski, there's a couple of hit men waiting downstairs for you.
Something about wanting you to go out and play. Said not to bring your
gun, they'd look after you." 

 Tim from Narcotics thought his joke was very funny. Ray Vecchio, fresh
for another day of hatred for Kowalski, just smiled politely at his desk
and resumed his work. 

 "Up yours," Kowalski grumbled without looking up from his paperwork. 

 "No, I think that's what they'd like to do." Tim laughed again and nudged
Vecchio in the shoulder. "You got my sympathies, Ray. He gets in your way,
you send him over to Narcotics. We'll set him straight on how we like our
cops to be. You know; not assholes - that kind of thing." 

 "Yeah, I'll keep it in mind," Vecchio's smile faded. He didn't like this
guy, and he wasn't all that comfortable siding with him, even where the
subject of Hating Kowalski was concerned. He kept plucking away at the
typewriter and waited for Tim to wander away. 

 "Nice friends," Kowalski mumbled. 

 "At least I got some." 

 This wasn't worth defending because Ray knew that, among everything else
people suspected about him, having acquaintances wasn't on the list. 

 "For what it's worth, he's not my friend. He thinks he's Hall Monitor of
the 27th. The only thing we have in common is our mutual feelings towards
you." 

 "You probably wouldn't have the balls to say that to him." 

 "You questioning my balls, Kowalski? That kind of crap is going to get
your ass kicked one too many times." 

 "You're so full of shit." 

 People were turning to see what the sharp whispering between enemies was
about - and would it turn into something good. In a moment it did. 

 Nobody could quite make out just what it was that Vecchio said to
Kowalski but it must have been a doozy. Kowalski leaned across his desk,
pulled his arm back and smashed his fist into Vecchio's face. Vecchio fell
back and landed in his chair, which then rolled against the wall with a
grand thud. Ray's jaw was sore but his ego was far worse off. He leapt out
of the seat and reached across the desk for 

 Kowalski's collar. "You little shit, you're going to pay for that," 

 "You and what little piss-ant army?" 

 "This one, asshole." Vecchio reached forward, grabbed Kowalski by the
shoulders and with a precision he had mastered as a teenager, gave him a
violent shove against the bookshelf. 

 Kowalski bounced from the wall to the floor. Books landed on top of him
and several light fixtures landed where the shelf once stood. Ray Kowalski
got to his feet. When he felt someone's arm grabbing his, Kowalski swung
around and gave Constable Fraser a shove of his own. Fraser landed
shoulder first into the wall. 

 This brought the discussion between Kowalski and Vecchio to a sudden
stop. 

 "Geeze, Fraser, you don't sneak up on a guy like that," Kowalski spat
out, by way of an apology for shoving Fraser in the same shoulder he
landed on the day before. 

 Vecchio hopped over the desk and elbowed Kowalski out of the way. "You
okay, Fraser?" 

 Fraser had a rarely seen look on his face called, 'pain'. "Yup," he
gasped calmly. 

 "You sure?" 

 "Uh huh." 

 "You don't look fine." 

 "Okay." 

 Vecchio waited this one out. He knew Fraser's monosyllabic answers. 

 "Sorry, Fraser," Kowalski offered guiltily. 

 Fraser nodded at the apology. 

 To make matters worse, Vecchio noticed the acrimony between Kowalski and
Fraser had diminished. 'The hell with both of you,' had been Kowalski's
final parting words the day before. Vecchio kind of hoped he meant it for
Fraser too but it wasn't showing any signs of that now. Something was
going on. Kowalski was actually acting unhostile towards the Mountie. In
fact, the two of them were standing in front of Vecchio, trying not to be
obvious about the glances they were throwing each other. Vecchio couldn't
even ignore them properly, they were doing it so badly. "You two bozo's
want to tell me what's going on here, please." 

 Fraser was looking apprehensive which, knowing Fraser as well as Vecchio
did, could mean bloody well anything from 'my lanyard is missing' to 'I
drove your car into the lake they call Michigan." 

 Kowalski wasn't much better. He just glanced down at his shoes as if he
were trying to count how many there were. This act, in Vecchio's view,
wasn't a sure thing because he still doubted if Kowalski could count that
high. 

 "Did you tell him?" Kowalski asked Fraser. 

 "No." Fraser cracked and turned to Vecchio. "Well, Ray, there are a few
matters about this case which Detective Kowalski and myself haven't been
very forthcoming with you about and it seems that now is as good a time as
any, perhaps to share some of those details with you. Ray, perhaps you
could elaborate." 

 Kowalski took the cue. "A couple of their guys kept showing up in
surveillance tapes in the stores across from the consulate. I told the
guys I was looking for someone who knew how to off someone for me. They
bought it. Just before the shooting, one of the guys gave me an address
for the Browning Street house. Turns out the Browning house is where some
guys were making some kinda explosives. I went over, caught some of the
action when someone clubbed me from behind. I didn't tell Welsh. That's
it." 

 "You didn't tell me about being hit," Fraser blurted out, slightly
offended by the omission. 

 "You didn't ask." Kowalski waited for other disapproving 'why didn't you
tell me this' rebuttal that would be shooting out of Vecchio's mouth in
five, four, three, two... 

 "Nice going, Bonehead. You really got a knack for sharing the load, ya
know that? I'm telling Welsh now." 

 "Actually," Fraser began hesitantly. "The point may be moot from my end.
The other reason I'm here is to inform you both that this case is no
longer on your books. The Inspector has decided that the staff should be
trained on new computer technology and security details." 

 "What kind of training," Vecchio sighed. 

 "I'd rather not say. It's confidential and I don't think the Inspector
would be pleased if I..." 

 "What kind of training, Fraser." This time there was no question mark
attached. 

 "Well... Procedures. Detective skills." His voice left the entire
subjecting hanging, almost twisting in the wind. 

 Again, Vecchio knew the signs too well. "You're hiding something. Why is
she sending you off to learn police skills if you're just a deputy guard
clerk who writes out party invitations.." 

 "Because...." Fraser sighed and spilled the rest. "Inspector Thatcher has
decided to cancel her request for assistance on the Consulate disturber.
She wants it handled internally. Towards that end, she wants me trained on
the newest techniques in police procedure." 

 "You - mean..." Vecchio said this slowly, both out of extreme sarcasm and
disbelief. "She - wants - you ... to use your policing skills for your job
as an RCMP police officer?" 

 "Yes. She would like to add policing to the list of other administrative
duties at the consulate." 

 "Damn, if that wasn't so foresighted of her, I'd give her credit for
having a brain." Kowalski was grasping for straws. "So she's replacing us
with you?" 

 "You might put it that way." 

 Vecchio shuttered. "I can't figure out if I'm insulted or impressed. You
get to be a cop instead of a running boy. Humph. Maybe she's not the
Dragon lady after all. Or someone spiked her tea with something good. You
put anything in her tea, Fraser?" 

 Fraser shrugged with equal confusion. "It certainly wasn't on the duty
roster that Inspector Moffatt would have allowed." 

 This initiative aside, the same word floated through the Detectives'
minds at the same time: Shit. Without Fraser there was no buffer. With no
buffer, there was only the other guy. 

 "Seems dumb to me," Vecchio causally remarked. "She can send you on
training any time. Why can't you just finish the case with us? 

 "I'm sorry," Fraser sighed. "Inspector Thatcher has already made up her
mind. I am en route to Toronto for upgrading skills tomorrow morning. 

 Shit, indeed.	

 "Good news - you're getting a new partner." 

 These words hit Kowalski straight in the face when he went into Welsh's
office to ask about medical forms. 

 "Excuse me?" was his baffled reply. 

 Welsh shifted a few papers on his desk and wished to hell that he hadn't
blurted the announcement out as quickly as he just did. "Sorry. Got a
request from someone to switch with someone else. That left you the odd
guy out and since you're the newest one here...." 

 "Vecchio." 

 "I didn't say anything." 

 "You don't have to." Kowalski waited this one out until he was sure he
wasn't going to yell his face off into Welsh's desk blotter. "Whatever.
Just let me know." 

 "Kowalski, don't take this personally," Welsh called after him. 

 "How the hell am I supposed to take it?" Kowalski growled as he kicked a
metal wastebasket across the floor and into the water cooler. 

 The clang of the bucket sang into every ear on the floor. The people
looked up from what they were doing to see what the noise was about. When
they saw Kowalski's face, they knew.  

 "I cannot believe you did that." 

 "Well, I did." Ray Vecchio knew damn well what was coming and he was
sorry he'd even mentioned the transfer. But he did and that was that. 

 Fraser had heard about the request through Francessca, who heard it in
the ladies room from the woman who owned the wastebasket that took the
flight over the hardwood. 

 "You haven't even given him a fair chance, let alone any chance at all." 

 "Yes, I have. My instinct tells me to dump this guy, so that's what I'm
doing. You don't trust your partner, you might as well put a bullet in
your head yourself." 

 "Instinct?" Fraser spat this out with disgust. "Did any of that
'instinct' come from what you've heard from the other officers? From the
various bits of gossip that have made it into every ear since Detective
Kowalski joined the station?" 

 "You saying I can't make up my mind for myself?" 

 "Perhaps not in this case." His voice was smugger than usual, more
confident. 

 "Don't go there, Fraser." 

 "I'm not going anywhere, I'm simply suggesting that you let your heart -
of which I know full well you have - guide you in this specific
situation." 

 Vecchio leaned across his desk and hissed, "And what the hell do you know
about instinct? A couple of months ago, it had you flat on your back in
the hospital with a bullet in you. You see that one coming? No, you didn't
because you were too busy being a nice guy, thinking with your heart - not
to mention something else - to figure out what was going on in front of
you. And what happens? You almost get killed cause you weren't thinking
like a cop. So forgive me if I have a little trouble borrowing your good
judgment when it comes to trusting someone else who you figure isn't going
to skin your ass the minute your head is turned." 

 So there it was. Fraser had been dreading - if not all out avoiding -
this moment since he woke up in the hospital and saw Ray Vecchio sitting
in the corner of the room, his arms folded, his eyes closed. 

 Vecchio fidgeted with some pens on the desk and finally said only, "The
hell with this." He left the room while the other people pretended to get
back to their conversations, paperwork, anything else that would cover
their tracks. Fraser just sat there stunned that he had made Ray Vecchio
explode the way he did. They never talked about the shooting, or Victoria
or anything else from those days. They didn't discuss Victoria and they
never went near the subject. That was the silent, unwavering rule. Fraser
was never sure which one of them wrote the decree but he knew they were
both too frightened of the subject to break it. 

 Now, Vecchio had just torched it with a firebomb.  

 "Why are you friends with this bozo?" 

 Fraser hadn't spoken to a soul since he walked away from Ray Vecchio's
empty desk and left the precinct. He knew that every single eye was on his
back as he left. He didn't have the nerve to see their eyes for himself. 

 The first person to speak to him was Kowalski, who bumped into him on the
front steps of the building. Kowalski had other things on his mind than
why Fraser the Zombie wasn't looking where he was going, and he decided to
accompany Fraser for a walk. 

 Fraser didn't tell Kowalski that Ray Vecchio had just zapped him with the
one subject they never, ever talked about; that Ray Vecchio had just
spewed heart felt venom at him and probably didn't want to see Fraser
again until hell froze over. And that Fraser suddenly felt depressed.
Instead, he merely offered, "Ray has some things on his mind these days
and perhaps he is taking some of it out on you." 

 As opposed to me, the guy he should be taking it out on. 

 "Then tell him to get over it. You know, that's gonna end up on my
record, my newest partner requesting a new partner a week after we partner
up." 

 "I'm sure the Lieutenant won't let that happen. And I'm positive that Ray
will come to his senses. I'm afraid that your arrival has coincided with
other things that have happened. And as to why I'm friends with him, Ray
Vecchio has a lot of positive qualities. He's a fine police officer, an
extraordinary friend; he has a sense of loyalty that knows no limits. And,
I suppose, in answer to the question of why you are aren't friends with
him, I could add that I didn't replace him when he was listed as deceased,
nor did I arrest his friend for littering." 

 "That's the dumbest thing I heard all year." 

 "Hold on a moment, Ray." Fraser was peering down an alleyway. Fraser
began squinting, as if that was going to make the image at the end of the
alley any clearer. "I think that man just littered." He started off in the
direction of the offender. 

 "Ah, f' crissakes." Ray had rolled his eyes so many times in the last
week, it was a wonder they stayed in their sockets. 

 "I'll be back in a second." 

 Ray's insides tightened with rage and his jaw was clenched. "Don't -
Fraser - cut it out. Shit! This is so embarrassing." 

 "Yes it is. To all of us," Fraser called back over his shoulder. He was
in a mood to tidy up the world and he didn't seem to care that Ray
Kowalski was dying with shame. 

 Fraser strolled over to two men and picked up a chocolate bar wrapper.
"Excuse me, Sir, but I think this belongs to you." He held the wrapper
out. 

 The guy in front of him looked at Fraser, then Kowalski, and then back at
his friend. "So?" 

 Kowalski nudged Fraser in the back. "Let's go, you're being an idiot." 

 "I saw this fall from your hand, I can only assume it was accidental." 

 "Sure, whatever you say, buddy." 

 This guy wasn't out for a fight, Kowalski could see that. But he wasn't
going to tempt fate. Ray wrapped his hand around Fraser's wrist and gave
it a sharp tug. "Let's go, Fraser." 

 "In a moment." Fraser turned back to the gentlemen. "So you didn't
accidentally drop this litter." 

 "I don't know who you are but you're getting on my nerves." 

 "Oh, shit." Kowalski saw something more disturbing than garbage could
ever be. Across the street, watching and smirking were Jones and Smith
from Narcotics. Ray snatched the chocolate wrapper out of Fraser's hand
and stuffed it into his pocket. "That's it. End of story." 

 "Do you mind?" Fraser politely asked. 

 Kowalski was already heading back to the sidewalk. 

 Fraser wasn't sure whether to commend him for the neatness or ask him to
return the litter. Instead, he wasn't left with many opportunities other
than to thank the men for their time and follow his partner. "I was in the
middle of a conversation," he announced once he'd caught up to Kowalski. 

 "You got this real annoying thing going with garbage," Ray told him
flatly. 

 "I have a concern when citizens ignore simple courtesy and toss their
trash away as if it doesn't hurt the environment in which we live." 

 Fraser followed and waited for the argument to begin. He didn't know it
had already ended.  

 "When do you go on that course thingy?" 

 These were Kowalski's first words since the aborted litterbug
apprehension. He noticed that Fraser had become suddenly silent. Come to
think of it, he would later recall, Fraser had been unusually quiet since
he first bumped into him. 

 Now they were walking towards the downtown. Kowalski apparently didn't
have any place he wanted to be either so they settled on a coffee shop. 

 "You not supposed to be at work?" Kowalski asked sliding into a booth. 

 "I've decided to take several hours as personal time." 

 "And this is how you use it?" He glanced at the menu and the gravy stains
made him think about french fries. He had been trying to cut down on the
old grease for a few weeks now. 

 "I could ask you the same thing." 

 "Fed up with Vecchio. You?" 

 "Fed up with many things in general. They don't include Detective
Vecchio, in case you were going to ask." 

 "Crossed my mind." 

 A waitress silently deposited two glasses of water in front of them. She
asked what they would have and the words, "Coffee" and "Tea" came out at
the same time. She smiled politely for someone as fed up as these guys
were and wandered away. 

 Fraser took a sip of water. It was warm. "I'm scheduled to leave tomorrow
morning." Kowalski noticed something off about Fraser but he couldn't put
his finger on it. "What's wrong? You look funny." 

 Fraser sighed. "I don't suppose you know the feeling of creating
something terrible, so beyond what you think you can repair and the worst
part about it is that you hurt someone else, not yourself?" 

 Kowalski shook his head. "Nah." 

 "Oh." 

 "I'm kidding, Fraser. What'd you do that was revolting that it's got you
ditching work like a normal human being?" 

 "Nothing." 

 "Nothing?" 

 "Nothing. Nothing I want to talk about..." 

 You could talk to me if it would help, was what Ray actually wanted to
offer, but only his typical 'Whatever,' came out instead. 

 The waitress stopped and deposited a tea in front of Fraser and a coffee
in front of Ray. 

 "What's the deal with Vecchio's sister?" Kowalski wanted to know as he
dumped sugar into his cup. 

 Fraser was staring out the window. 

 "Hey, Brain!" Ray waved his hand in front of Fraser's face until he got
his attention. "What's the deal with Vecchio's sister? She keeps looking
at me funny." 

 "She looks at everyone that way." Fraser clearly wasn't in the mood to
explain Francessca Vecchio to newcomers. 

 "She got a boyfriend or something?" 

 "No." Two teenagers were about to jaywalk across the busy street and
Fraser sighed because there wasn't a thing he could do about it. 

 "Yeah, figures. She'd probably talk him to death or something. Her
brother probably screens 'em all out for her; lets the ones he likes
live." 

 Fraser still wasn't listening. Too many people who passed the window
looked like Ray Vecchio and they all made Fraser's depression swell. 

 "Look, I don't know what's bugging you but it can't be that bad, right?
Hey, look at this. I dropped my napkin on the floor and I'm not going to
pick it up. Oh, geeze, I hope no one saw me drop it on the floor. I don't
think I'm going to pick it up." 

 Fraser smiled slightly and appreciated Kowalski's efforts. It didn't
occur to him at that moment that he had just been the recipient of a
friendly gesture by the 'Detective from Hell'. 

 "So, Vecchio's sister. She ever go out with cops or anything?"  

 At three o'clock in the morning Ray Vecchio heard knocking on his front
door. He looked out his bedroom window and saw a black GTO parked next to
the Riv. This wasn't happening, he tried to convince himself. 

 "Do you know what Fraser was doing the twelfth of last March?" Kowalski
blurted out as soon as the front door opened. 

 "No. Do you know what I was doing two minutes ago? Sleeping." 

 "I need to know what the hell Fraser was doing a month ago last Tuesday
and where he was." 

 "Like I keep tabs on him. You got a lot of nerve coming to my house in
the middle of the night asking me questions that nobody on the face of the
earth is idiotic enough to have the answer for."  

 "Wake up Frannie, I need to see your diary." 

 Frannie opened her eyes and saw her brother hovering above her. Standing
behind her brother was Stanley Raymond Kowalski. She scrambled to grab
every inch of linen to cover herself. "What is he doing here? What are you
both doing here? I'm going to kill you, Ray, I swear." 

 "Relax, will you? No one wants to see you in your nightie. I need to know
what Fraser was doing on February 16th this year." 

 "What the hell are you talking about? And what's he doing?" 

 Kowalski was smirking at the odd assortment of photographs stuck in the
frame of her mirror. He suddenly knew who Fraser's rumormonger was. 

 "Ignore him, will ya? This is important. Fraser might be in trouble." 

 Frannie ordered them to leave her room, got dressed and brought the
treasured book downstairs. 

 "You can't look, I'll find what you need' she ordered. 

 "Yeah, fine whatever." 

 Both Ray's sat on either side of her on the couch. She tossed enough
dirty looks at each to make then inch away. "What day was it?" 

 "Fifteenth," her brother signed impatiently. 

 "Sixteenth," Kowalski sighed louder. "Geeze, it's bad enough yer sister's
got the hots for this guy, but now we gotta wade through her diary? This
is rich." 

 "I don't have the hots for him, or anyone," she reprimanded. "That's a
crude term. Fraser and I merely have ... feelings for each other." 

 "Feelings," Ray Vecchio chucked to Kowalski behind her back. "That's not
what Fraser calls 'em when my sister sends him running the other way at
the sound of her voice." 

 "You want this information or not?" Frannie held the book over her
brother's head and threatened to smash the metal corners into his eye
socket. 

 "Yeah, yeah. Sixteenth." 

 She found the entry and hesitated. "... Fraser doesn't find out I've got
this, right?" 

 "On my word as your brother." 

 "What about him?" 

 "On my word as someone who doesn't give a damn about yer imaginary love
life. So what happened on the sixteenth?" 

 "Well..." Frannie did a fast read as the memories of the day filtered
back. "Oh, yeah..... I remember that too..." 

 "You want to read aloud here, please," her brother demanded. 

 She slammed the diary shut. "No. It's private. But you're in luck because
I happened to write about that day. Fraser was on duty at that parade and
picnic in Riverside Park. I went to find him because he said he might have
lunch with me. When I got to the consulate, Turnbull said that Fraser had
to go to the picnic at the last minute because that Moffatt bonehead had
to go to the dentist." 

 "Ha," Kowalski smirked, at the similar definition. 

 Francessca tried to ignore him but there was something about him that was
hard to ignore. "If you don't mind." 

 "Me? Never. Go on." 

 "When I found Fraser at the park, he was at some RCMP booth, posing for
pictures. I think that Moffatt guy chickened out. Fraser didn't look like
he was having a good time. There were a lot of punks around. And little
old ladies kept wanting to pat his ... Anyway, Fraser even had Mofatt's
name tag on, so I know he wasn't just making an excuse to ditch me." 

 "Fraser? Never," Ray Vecchio added. "Sorry, Frannie." He turned to
Kowalski. "This doing you any good here?" 

 "Yeah. I don't think it's Moffatt this nutcase is after. I think it's
Fraser. 

 "That's a nice theory out of thin air. You want to do better?" 

 The old tension was returning and Kowalski's guard rose. "Yeah, you wanna
hear it?" 

 Francesca yawned. "God, you both sound like such idiots when you get all
Tough Guy. Just tell him your theory, Kowalski and ignore his Big Shot
tone of voice, cause that's the only way you're going to learn to get
along with him. Trust me." 

 He couldn't take his eyes off her. Suddenly, he'd trust her to the moon
and back. "Yeah - okay. Well, at that house before it got torched, I heard
one of the guys says that it was a month yesterday since that Mountie
Moffatt Moron got his brother in trouble. That's why I wanted to know what
Fraser was Moffatt doing on the 16th." 

 Vecchio was still staring at him, waiting for more. He reminded Kowalski
of a fifth grade math teacher who wasn't satisfied with a shrug for an
answer. 

 "And then this afternoon Fraser goes after another litterbug, and I'm
thinking, 'Hell, I'd want to kick his ass too'. And then I'm thinking what
I heard someone else say about one guy in a red suit looking like any
other guy in a red suit. And it hit me that whoever's doing this doesn't
want Moffatt, they want Fraser, they just don't know they got the wrong
guy." 

 "Another hunch?" was Vecchio's only response. 

 "Yeah, you can call it that. And now, it makes sense with your sister's
diary thing there. A month ago. Something happened a month ago, Fraser was
out in public, in a park a month ago. And he's an irritating guy in a red
suit who looks like any other irritating guy in a red suit who's name tag
reads Moffatt." 

 "And Fraser thinks this is another brilliant move from you? That
figures." 

 "No, Moron, Fraser hasn't heard it cause I can't find him anywhere to
ask. You getting this yet?"  

 They arrived at the Consulate at 3:35AM at the same time Inspector
Thatcher pulled up in a taxi. She was tired, she was only minutes past
waking up and she was angry. 

 "This couldn't have waited until morning?" 

 "I coulda called the Fire Department to bust down the door instead of
waking you up," Vecchio assured her with a smile. 

 "And that door is the only reason I'm here so you had better be quick
about what it is you're hoping to find. And it had damn well better have
something to do with Constable Fraser because if I find out that you're
only trying to find something stupid like a library book you forgot-" She
paused and looked both men over. "Well, that was if you read books..." 

 "Hahaha. Just let us in." 

 She fumbled with the keys and couldn't help herself from wondering just
how terrible she actually looked at three-thirty in the morning. And
worse, did either of these detectives notice. She didn't have much to
worry about the hair-challenged, but in front of the other one, the
Italian, she actually hoped she didn't look too terrible. What the hell
was it about particularly obnoxious men that made her think that way. 

 "Okay, Hunch Guy, where is he?" Vecchio's voice was on the attack but
inside he was fighting a growing panic. They had driven to Fraser's
apartment so Vecchio could check out the place for himself. There was an
airline ticket on the kitchen counter, under the teapot. Fraser's uniform
was pressed and ready for the morning. Diefenbaker was gone and his bowl
was full. Something wasn't right. 

 Now, the three of them were standing in the dark lobby of the Canadian
Consulate. Fraser's office was open but there was no one inside. Ray
Vecchio did a check of the other offices and no Mounties were hiding in
there either. 

 Kowalski shook his head. "I didn't say I know where he is. I'm not a ESP
guy, ya know. Something's just not right. When does he usually go home?" 

 Thatcher answered impatiently, "When his work is done. He works late. He
worked late last night. And he got a phone call. Well, I got the call, but
it was for him. I transferred it to his office and I heard him leave
shortly after. The man who called thought I was Inspector Moffatt, the one
with the dog. When I tried to explain that was neither Moffatt nor
myself." Her face froze. "Oh my God." 

 Vecchio reached for his cell phone. "I'm calling this in." 

 "I thought it was just someone with the wrong ... He seemed as if..." 

 "Save it!" Vecchio waited impatiently for someone to answer. He got a
reply and spat out the details of the search. He covered the cell for a
moment. "How many uniforms does he own?" 

 "Just the one as far as I know." 

 Vecchio returned to the phone. "Not in the uniform - probably wearing his
leather jacket, usual clothes. 

 The wolf may be with him. Yeah - We'll start here." 

 Thatcher stood there looking somewhere between terribly ashamed and
furious. She felt like a failure in front of this guy. 

 "I'm sorry," she began hesitantly because she wasn't used to issuing
apologies. 

 "I told you to call us if anything out of the ordinary happened, like
phone calls asking for the wrong guy." 

 "I'm sorry, but I wasn't thinking." 

 "No, probably congratulating yourself on how you solved your Fraser
problem." 

 "What does that mean?" 

 "Just thinking how nice it was of you to offer to get Fraser some more
training." 

 "I have no problem arranging for Fraser's upgrading skills." 

 "So he can help out the CPD? No one has more skills than Fraser, lady.
What's up?" 

 "Nothing is up. It is merely up to the Superior Officer to see that every
one of their officers are offered every chance to become better police
officers and further their careers." 

 "Oh, you're much smarter than I gave you credit for. Fraser gets
upgraded, promoted and shipped out of your hair. Very nice. Very you. I
wondered what was behind that little offer." 

 Inspector Thatcher wasn't enjoying the game any more. "I'll leave that
for you to worry about. My business is my business and doesn't concern you
or anyone else. Except my officers." 

 "Oh, that's rich." 

 "Hey, Vecchio," Kowalski said quietly from behind. "Let it go." 

 "I said I was sorry and I'm not about to stand here listening to you rub
it in. You sound off as much as you like, I'm going to look for Fraser." 

 "You look in here. You go through every room in this place. I'll do the
basement, Kowalski, you take outside." 

 Ray Kowalski nodded and headed back down the staircase. 

 Vecchio was left with Thatcher. "Now." 

 She left in a literal huff. Pity she wasn't such a pain in the ass,
Vecchio vaguely recalled later.  

 Vecchio flew down the stairs when he got the call. When he ran to the
back of the consulate, he ran smack into Kowalski. "Where is he?" 

 "Round by the fire escape. I can't tell if he's hurt or not. He's just
lying there. Told me to get you." 

 There was a shaken look on the face of Kowalski's face that told Vecchio
what Kowalski didn't understand. "Is he moving?" Vecchio asked. 

 "He won't let me touch him. I don't want to freak out in front of him but
something's not right." 

 "Shit. Okay, let's go." 

 When Vecchio got to Fraser, he crouched down next to him and quietly
asked, "Is it the bullet?" 

 Fraser nodded and continued to stare straight ahead. It was easier that
way. There was a fresh cut on his forehead where the boot kicked him but
this was the least of his worries. 

 "Okay, that's good. No one's gonna move you. Kowalski's called for the
ambulance and we're just going to wait til it gets here." 

 Still not understanding what any of this meant, or why in the hell
Vecchio was taking this so calmly, 

 Kowalski got back to basics and blurted out, "Where's that wolf-dog
thing?" 

 "Went after the man," Fraser whispered. 

 "Great. How many?" 

 "Just one. He had a gang jacket." 

 "One of the Specs. Bet I know which guy it was, too - Vecchio, what the
hell are you doing?" 

 The unthinkable was about to happen. 

 Vecchio tossed his car keys in the air and watched them land in Ray
Kowalski's reflectively outstretched hand. "Gonna be a sweet guy and let
you take my car to find Dief. Bring it to the hospital when you got him,
okay? And not a scratch." 

 "Huh?" 

 Vecchio smiled. "Hey, Benny, you want to see something cool? Kowalski's
jaw just hit the ground. Meet us at Memorial Hospital, Kowalski, I'll fill
you in then. Benny, I'm just going to read him the riot act on driving my
car for a second, then I'm right back here." 

 Another nod. 

 Vecchio stood up and nudged Kowalski out of earshot. "He'll be okay. Go
find Dief." 

 "Jesus, he looks terrible. You want to tell me what the hell bullet yer
talking about?" 

 "He got shot a couple of months ago in the back. Bullet was too close to
the spine so they had to leave it in. Find the wolf. Fraser's going to be
fine." He gave Kowalski a soft nudge towards the road. "Go, will ya? He'll
be okay."  

 Diefenbaker was bleeding from the left paw where the knife sliced past
the fur. The man who did the slicing was standing in a corner of a
backyard, not sure if the dog was going to strike back before he could
make it over the fence. 

 An unsure voice yelled from nowhere, "Stay - Don't move - Heel." Kowalski
wasn't well versed in working with Man's best friend. Instead, he took his
usual, more self-assured route and warned the guy with the knife to hit
the ground before Kowalski kicked his foot through the man's left ear. The
man dropped the knife and then dropped to his knees. Kowalski stepped over
the wolf and wrung the man's arm behind his back so fast he could hear the
bones crack. "You are so under arrest it's not funny." 

 "Fucking wolf almost killed me." 

 "Fucking wolf shoulda killed you!" He snapped the cuffs shut and pulled
the guy to his feet. "That blood on his foot better be yours, Asswipe.
Dief, let's go." 

 Diefenbaker limped and the blood on his paw wasn't from the guy in the
jacket. He followed the Fraser's Other Human and kept his eyes dead cold
on the man with the weapon. There was a steady growl from the time he
followed them from the alley to the minute they reached Fraser's Other
Human's car. 

 Kowalski opened the back door and slammed the handcuffed guy inside. He
opened the driver's door and motioned for the wolf to get into the front
seat. He looked the animal in the eye and enunciated clearly, "Watch him."


 "I could have that animal put down or something," the terrified guy
warned from the back seat. 

 "Yeah, he's thinking the same thing about you." Kowalski flipped on the
overhead light and took a look at Diefenbaker's bloodied paw. " Y'eow.
Guess we'd better make a pitstop first." 

 The pit stop was an Animal Emergency Vet that Kowalski remembered taking
his Superintendent and her cat to one night. The cat was coughing up more
than fur balls and Kowalski, responding to the midnight knock on his door
like a zombie, was heading for the Vet with a crying cat and her consoling
owner in the back seat. 

 He locked the perp in the car and hustled Diefenbaker into the Vet. "He's
a police dog, so nothing bad happens to him," was his parting advice to
the on-staff Vets.  

 When Kowalski had safely seen Diefenbaker to the vet, he took the perp
down to the station and shoved the guy into the chair with enough force to
break it. 

 "You want to tell me hell's your beef with Fraser?" 

 Instead of an answer, the young gang member, who was somewhere between
twenty and twenty-five years old, grumbled something about 'fucking off,
Pig'. 

 Unfortunately, Kowalski's patience was long gone. He slammed the man's
face down on the desk. "You got a death wish, Snotbreath?" Ray had been
able to keep his temper controlled so far. He didn't lose it in the alley
because Diefenbaker looked shaken enough. He kept it at the Animal
Hospital because the staff didn't need an aggressive cop on top of the
other animals they had on their hands. He lost it standing over this
asshole because this guy wasn't telling him anything good like why he'd
tried to kill about the only thing close to a friend that Kowalski had
known in a while. 

 The man blurted out, "Because he messed with my brother and got him sent
back to juvey." 

 "What the hell does that mean?" Kowalski demanded, surprised by the
bluntness of the confession. He tugged at the man's collar and sat him up
properly in the chair. 

 "It means he got my brother in trouble by causing a scene at that damn
parade picnic thing cause my brother dropped some garbage or something
stupid and got mad and a couple of cops came around, butted in and carted
my brother away." 

 "Oh, that's nice. Your brother opens his big mouth and it's the Mountie's
fault?" 

 "He shoulda left my brother alone. Not his fault the cops found drugs in
is coat. I'll bet that damn Mountie put it there." 

 Kowalski had to laugh - either that, or kill the guy. "Yer such an egg
head. You beat the Mountie up cause you think he got your brother sent to
juvy? Ten to one he was heading that way anyway, you little-" 

 "Friend of yours, Kowalski?" Tim Saunders asked as he walked past the
desk. 

 "Bite me." 

 Tim stopped for a moment as if he were considering the offer. Then he
continued walking because he couldn't stand the sight of Kowalski.  

 Vecchio picked the change from the coffee machine dispenser and pocketed
the coins in his pocket. The coffee tasted like crap, hospital coffee
usually did, and he wondered why he even bothered. He shouldn't have
yelled at Fraser earlier that day. He shouldn't have taken so long to find
him, or let Kowalski be the one to figure the mystery out. There were a
lot of 'shouldn't's running through his mind but only the big one kept
creeping back from 3 months of silence. 

 "Detective Vecchio," a quiet voice called from behind. A nurse almost
startled him enough to spill the coffee but he wasn't that lucky. "There's
someone who needs to talk to you." 

 "About Fraser?" This was one of the moments he was dreading, just like he
dreaded a million others like it several months ago. 

 "I don't think so. It's another police officer. Detective Kowalskni. I
think he's had a bit of an accident." 

 The heart stopped again. "Not the Riv." Ray's head dove into his hands. 

 "Um, well, no, he just accidentally walked into one of the orderly's
cart. He said he was looking for you." 

 "I don't want to leave Fraser here til I hear from the doctors." 

 Fraser was, at that moment, in one of the beds in ICU. They had admitted
him immediately and began tests on his spine to see what damage the bullet
had done. Added to that were the injuries from the attack to his head. 

 "Well, he did seem to think it was important that I get you." 

 Vecchio sighed and placed the coffee on the table by the window. This
better be good, he thought to himself. 

 He followed the nurse down four different looking hallways and finally
saw Kowalski sitting on a chair in the emergency waiting room. There was
broken glass was everywhere and two orderlies were sweeping it into a bin.
An intern was bandaging up Kowalski's hand. 

 "What the hell happened to you and where's my car?" 

 "In the parking lot. It's fine." 

 Vecchio nodded towards the hand. "What'd you do?" 

 "Ran into that." Kowalski indicated a cart lying on its side. "Wasn't
looking where I was going. Ouch. Shit - that hurt." 

 The intern finished tying up his hand. "Still think you need stitches,
sir, but there you go." 

 "I don't need stitches," Kowalski grumbled. He was looking dangerously
pale, though, and prayed he wasn't going to pass out from the smell of
iodine. 

 Vecchio dropped into the chair next to him. "No, you need a crash helmet.
Where's Dief?" 

 "The Vet's. The guy cut him in the leg - paw - foot, whatever ya call it.
He'll be okay. That wolf had him cornered and ready to read his rights by
the time I got there. All I had to do was cuff him. Turns out the guy has
this brother and Fraser nailed this brother for littering and he's had it
out for him ever since. Where's Fraser?" 

 "Up in ICU. They still don't know if there's any damage yet." 

 Kowalski noticed how distracted Vecchio looked sitting there. He seemed
to have aged twenty years in twenty minutes. "Damage... as in ..." For
some reason, Kowalski was waiting for the worst. Force of habit, he
guessed. He was beginning to think he had made a mistake not hating this
Mountie for longer than he had. 

 Vecchio didn't seem any keener to hear the words either. "To his back -
spine, I guess. They want to make sure he can still move okay." 

 "Like walk?" 

 "Something like that." This was harder than he thought. Vecchio cleared
his throat and returned to safer ground of things he knew about. "He's got
some broken ribs, though. A concussion. He said the guy's boot got him in
the head. Why don't you wait with us upstairs? Fraser'd like to see you,
make sure you're not dead from dog breath or something." 

 "Nah, that's okay, I got a few more things to tie up. Tell him I'll take
care of the wolf." He dug into his left pocket and produced a set of keys.
"Sweet set of wheels." Kowalski started to get up when a nasty back spasm
froze him in mid-movement. He delicately eased himself back into the chair
and hoped Vecchio hadn't noticed. 

 Vecchio was straining his neck to see if he could spot the car in the
lot. "Yeah, I'm gonna be checking my baby to make sure she's in one piece.
Listen, I gotta get back to Fraser. I'll call Welsh first thing, let him
know what's going on." Vecchio politely waited for Kowalski to get up and
leave first. It wasn't happening. "You sure you're okay? You look a little
funny." 

 That was mostly because every breath he took was like another fiery stab
to his stomach and back. 

 Kowalski couldn't tell if all of his ribs were broken, but he had a
suspicion at least a few of them were. That's what happens when steeltoe'd
boots made contact with them. 

 "That cart just took it out of me, that's all." The cart banged into his
stomach when Ray turned a corner. His ribs, which were broken by that
time, took the brunt of the cart during which his hand slammed against a
glass vial. 

 "Yeah, those speeding hospital cars will do that to you. How fast was
this one going? Five miles? Six?" 

 "Hahaha. Go back to Fraser. I'll check in with you tomorrow." 

 Vecchio remained standing and waited for Kowalski to stand up and leave.
That wasn't happening. "You waiting for something?" Vecchio finally asked
because he was beginning to feel like an idiot for standing there. 

 "Just being polite." Kowalski nodded his head towards the admitting desk.
"I'm gonna sit here for a couple of minutes. One of those nurses was
smiling at me before. I'm just going to see if she comes back. And I don't
need you hanging around, so if you don't mind." 

 This made Vecchio laugh. "Scared I'll make a better impression than you?
You're smarter than you look." 

 Smirking because he loved having the last accurate word, Vecchio turned
and left. He stepped over pieces of broken glass, shook his head in
disgust that his partner was responsible and smiled at a pretty nurse, all
at the same time. It was a Vecchio moment. 

 Kowalski waited until Vecchio was safely out of sight. He tried to get to
his feet and this time he made it despite the throbbing pain in his left
leg. He shouldn't have told Vecchio how easy the arrest was. He could have
blamed his damaged ribs the perp. Now he was going to have to cover up
again and a hospital wasn't the place to do it. 

 Kowalski slowly limped out of the building and hailed a taxi.	

 Ray Kowalski paid the cabby and struggled to get out of the cab in front
of the Vecchio house. It was almost five in the morning and the street was
silent and dark. 

 As he jammed the key into the GTO door, he didn't hear the delicate steps
of a woman in her best slippers come up from behind. 

 "Did you find him?" her whisper belted out like a mine explosion. 

 Ray jumped - literally - and swung around against the door. "Jesus,
Frannie, don't do that." 

 "Do what? I just want to know if Fraser's okay." 

 "Yeah, yeah, he's fine," Ray snapped as scores of pain shot through his
back and into his ribs. "Shit!" 

 "Where is he, then? 

 "At the hospital." 

 "Hospital? Why is he there?" 

 Ray sighed, paused and got to the chore of explaining the last several
hours of Fraser's life. He could tell that there was something more to the
story when Frannie's face darkened at the information of the stray bullet.


 She carefully weighed her next question. "How's Ray?" 

 Better 'n me, Kowalski wanted to toss back. "He's being a mother hen," he
replied, confused by the query. "He's waiting for information on Fraser." 

 "Okay." She seemed partially mollified by Kowalski's answers until she
saw a couple of fresh bruises on his arm. "So what's wrong with you then?"


 "I'm just wiped, Frannie. It's been a long night, what with looking for
Fraser, finding that creep, taking the wolf to the vet, checking on Fraser
and answering your questions. Now on top of that, I gotta go pick up the
wolf and take him back to my place." 

 Frannie couldn't tell if there was anything behind this rather long
explanation. For someone who had barely spoken four words to her the since
they had met, this guy was being unusually verbose. And yet she still felt
compelled to quell him with a rather stubborn, "Fraser usually leaves him
with us if he has to go somewhere." 

 "Yeah, well, this time he's staying with me." 

 "Do you know anything about looking after him?" 

 Ray's patience was wearing down. "He's a wolf, how much different can
that be from a dog? Jeeze, you're annoying for five o'clock in the
morning." 

 "He's half dog and I think you should bring him to our house." 

 "I'm not bringing him here, I can take care of him just fine. Besides, I
told Fraser I'd look after him." 

 "Fraser would want him here." 

 "No, you just want Fraser here. There's a difference." 

 That one hit below the belt and they both knew it. Frannie threw him one
of those 'You're Lucky I'm Letting You Live' glares and tucked her coat
tighter around her shoulders. 

 "Good night," was all she said and she walked back towards the house. 

 "Frannie," he called after her, but she ignored him. Ray stood there
feeling like a giant, colossal bastard and wondered how in the hell he was
going to set this one right. The front door to the house closed, Frannie
disappeared and that was that. 

 The Bastard got into the car and reached for the aspirin bottle inside
the glove compartment. He flicked on the overhead to make sure he was
grabbing the right bottle and popped two pills. On top of everything else
that he had gone through during the last hour, now he was going to take
care of a wolf when he barely knew how to look after his turtle.  

 "You heard the good news, Detective?" 

 Lieutenant Welsh's satisfied voice reached Kowalski's ears as he passed
the Lieutenant's door. Ray stopped, turned and leaned into the office. He
was feeling better this morning but not by much. He had spent most of the
evening awake, on the couch trying to sleep against the pain of some
broken ribs. All in all, he figured he got about three minutes of sleep
total. 

 "Something on Fraser?" he asked, carefully stepping into the office. 

 Welsh was sitting behind his desk. Ray Vecchio was standing at the other
side of the door. He only nodded towards Kowalski as if the last
twenty-four hours of genuine partnership had been a vague memory. 

 "Looks like Fraser's going to be okay. Tests came back that the bullet
didn't do any damage," Welsh was interested in whether Kowalski's reaction
would be indifference or politeness. He didn't expect relief. 

 "So he can still walk and all that?" 

 "And all that. Vecchio says he's in some pain but no permanent damage." 

 "That's great. Really great." 

 "Your perp looks good for a couple of other assaults we've been working
on, too. Good work, Detective. Your first week here has exceeded my
initial expectations." 

 "Huh?" Kowalski wasn't used to compliments, especially in the same room
as the man who usually dished out the insults. 

 Instead, Vecchio was restless and tense. He caught Welsh's eye. "Okay if
I take off for a bit, Sir?" 

 "Go ahead. Keep me posted on Fraser." 

 Vecchio passed Kowalski without a word. 

 "The wolf going to be okay?" Welsh asked when they were alone. 

 "He's got a cut paw but he's okay. What's with Vecchio? Thought he'd be
glad Fraser's okay." 

 "He's got some things on his mind. Is there any chance in hell that you
two might be able to work together, seeing how you both pulled off this
Mountie Maleficent problem?" Kowalski shrugged. "Donno. I don't care.
Partners 'n me don't usually work anyway." 

 "Ah, yes, the Lone Wolf scenario. I heard about that." 

 Kowalski wondered what else Welsh had heard about. 

 "For what it's worth," Welsh continued, "Vecchio was clear about the fact
that it was you who saved Fraser and got this guy put away. He said you
called it from the start. So, partners or not, that case is on your record
and you're welcome to stay with us on a permanent basis." 

 "Vecchio can't stand me," Kowalski reminded him. 

 "Vecchio's running this place now?" 

 Kowalski exhaled with disbelief and shook his head. "Go figure." Welsh
didn't seem to see a mystery behind the offer. "Somebody actually wants
you to work for them and not transfer you away to someone else. Yeah, go
figure. Let me know what you decide by the end of the day and I'll put in
the paperwork. What happened to your hand? Perp didn't do that, did he?" 

 Welsh was looking at his the bandage on his hand. There was blood from
last night showing through. Ray forgot to change the dressing. 

 "Banged into a cart." 

 "I see. That explains why you're walking like you got eggs in your
pocket." 

 Kowalski couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He didn't think his
discomfort was that noticeable. He pretended to go with the 'joking'
option and smiled back. "You know those hospital carts, Sir."  

 "Here." Frannie stuck a freshly made deluxe roast beef sandwich into her
brother's hand. 

 "What's this?" 

 "Duh, a boat. It's your lunch." 

 "You're giving me the 'Good Looking Batchelor Special'? Since when?" 

 "I never said anything about 'Good Looking', just 'Batchelor'. You'll
call when you talk to Fraser, right? Tell him we all say 'hi', or
something like that. And tell me when I can go visit." 

 "It won't work. They aren't going to let you give him sponge baths." 

 She ignored the remark because Ray Kowalski was walking slowly out of
Welsh's office. She and her brother were a safe distance away but she kept
her voice low. "Have you notice something funny about Kowalski?" 

 "You want to be more specific here, Frannie?" 

 "He's walking funny. And don't tell me it was a hospital cart because I
don't think hospital carts move that fast. He had some real bruises on his
arm last night. And he was sore. And he was popping some aspirin." 

 "So the guy's accident prone. That's the least of his problems." Although
Ray found this amusing, the look on his sister's face wasn't the same joy.
"Okay, I'll deal with it." 

 "Do it now." He knew what his sister's over protective voice meant. 

 "I'm going to see Fraser first, then I'll see what's up with Kowalski." 

 "He's going to be okay? Fraser, I mean." 

 "I think he's more scared than anything else. I'll let you know, Frannie,
it's hard to say right now. They want to make sure there's no infection
from the bullet, then they'll know more." 

 After Fraser had been admitted, Ray filled out the initial paperwork in
the waiting room. He wrote in whatever information he had, and when it
came to the box, 'Next of Kin', he hesitated for ten, maybe twenty seconds
before writing his own name. He hesitated because he didn't know if Fraser
would approve. Two months ago, before everything happened, this would have
been a no-brainer. There was Ray, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, using
his lap as a desk and wondering if his best friend even wanted that title
anymore. 

 "It's not your fault," Frannie was quietly telling him. "Not then, and
not now." 

 Ray didn't know where his sister got this gift of occasionally tapping
into the source of his hell. He smiled because even though he appreciated
this sentiment he knew he wouldn't believe it for himself for a long time.


 "Thanks," he said because he didn't want to let her know how much he
wanted to believe this. Ray looked past her head and saw his new partner
slowing easing himself into his chair. Vecchio called across the room,
"Hey, Kowalski." 

 Ray glanced up cautiously. He wasn't buying the friendly voice. "What." 

 "I'm going to see Fraser. Want a ride?" 

 "Uh, no, that's okay. I was going to go over later." Later this week,
maybe. 

 "I'll letcha drive the Riv." 

 "No, that's okay." This was new. Maybe Vecchio had heard about his
permanent position and he was nicing his way back into the books. 

 Frannie nudged her brother's shoulder. "Ask him." 

 "Knock it off, will ya!" 

 Kowalski saw them looking over at him without wanting to be caught.
"What?" he finally yelled back across the room impatiently. 

 "Marcus Welby here thinks there's something wrong with you." 

 "That supposed to be a joke?" 

 "No. You okay? You're not doing this big-brave act where the perp
actually laid a finger on you and you don't want to admit it, are you?" 

 "No, I'm just a little stiff. Had a wolf sleeping at the end of the bed.
See how great you'd feel." 

 Vecchio sighed and called back, "Frannie says you were like this last
night." 

 "Then yer sister oughta get her eyes checked." 

 Vecchio glanced down at his sister. "Okay, I'm about ten seconds from
clocking this guy. He says he's fine. Did you know that a couple of nights
ago he had another run-in that landed him in the hospital, and by the time
Fraser and I got there, the Hot Shot had gone home. If he's too macho to
yell, "Uncle" once in a while, that's his problem. I'm going to see
Fraser."  

 "You think you could start being interested in my sister now? I don't
like the looks she and Kowalski are giving each other." 

 Fraser was in bed, waiting for a near empty IV bag to be refilled. It
seemed like each time he needed someone to do something quickly, it took
forever. Watched doorways didn't produce nurses, he found out. They
produced friends he didn't know how to deal with, but not, it seemed,
nurses with IV refills. Ray had been here for thirty minutes so far. His
main contribution to the conversation dealt with the morning's events at
the station and who was still pissing him off the most. As usual, the
conversation didn't stray too far from Raymond Kowalski. Mostly, Vecchio
was struggling with small talk because he couldn't stand the silence in
the room for which he felt wholly responsible. 

 "I'm sure it isn't that bad," Fraser said helpfully. He wanted to sound
interested but he was fighting a headache and he was exhausted. He didn't
tell Ray - he wouldn't have done that to him - but Fraser dearly wanted to
be alone. 

 "Where the hell is the nurse! I buzz one more time, my thumb's gonna fall
off." 

 "It's okay, Ray. Someone will be by shortly." 

 "That's not good enough and don't play Mr. Nice Guy. You got a fever -
that means business or doesn't that count for anything around here." 

 "What kind of looks?" Fraser asked quietly. 

 "Huh?" 

 "Your sister and Ray Kowalski. What kind of looks?" 

 "Not ones I like, that's what kind. Couldn't he go find someone his own
brain size? I heard someone said he was actually married once. Can't
imagine the poor girl who ended up with him. He probably got her knocked
up in Grade Ten and she's been working in the dairy section of the Food
King ever since." Fraser sighed. "His Ex-wife is Assistant States Attorney
Stella Kowalski, Ray," he informed him before the images got worse. 

 "You're kidding." Vecchio's eyes slowly widened. "No way. He's her Ex? He
landed her? Geeze, never in a million years would I have put those two
together. She's hot. She's got style. He's... a mess. Are you sure you're
talking about the right guy?" 

 "They were married for quite a while, from what I could gather. Childhood
sweethearts." 

 "That's incredible." Vecchio's lips spread. "Maybe I oughta ask her out.
Might keep Kowalski away from my sister." 

 "Ray, that's stupid and childish and you know it." 

 "Great, he's got you calling me stupid now?" 

 "No, I'm calling your suggestion stupid. The 'childish' part is still up
for grabs. I can't believe you would use one human being to get even with
another for doing nothing to you at all except express an interest in your
sister." 

 "My little sister," he corrected. "My little, younger sister who, until
Captain Slob showed up, only lived to follow you around." 

 "She could do worse, you know." 

 "No, she couldn't." 

 That settled the small talk until Fraser couldn't stand the utter
stillness in the room. "You don't need to stay, you know." 

 "This isn't negotiable, Fraser. You got a fever - I'm staying. Geeze, I
sound like Frannie. You should have heard her this morning. 'Kowalski has
a hangnail, go make sure he's not dying.' " 

 "You ought to give her more credit." 

 "One person at a time, Benny, that's all I got patience for this year.
Where the hell is that nurse." His voice was beginning to rise. 

 "She'll be along, you don't have to panic." 

 Fraser didn't think he could take on more of Vecchio's anxiety, and lying
there like a trapped duck in an oil slick began to raise his own anxiety. 

 "What the hell are you doing," Vecchio asked in an alarmed voice that
actually alarmed Fraser. "Nothing. I'm trying to sit up." 

 "Well, don't. You're not supposed to move. Christ, Fraser, knock it off.
They told you not to move." "... I need ... to get more comfortable. 

 "You're not supposed to be comfortable." Vecchio leaned over and
carefully pushed Fraser's shoulder down against the mattress. 

 "I want to get up. I'm fine." 

 "No, you're not." 

 The nurse appeared at the door with the IV bottle hanging from her hand.
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Detective." 

 "Excuse me?" Ray's voice rose three more octaves. 

 "Yes, you're going to have to leave." 

 "Please," Fraser sighed. He didn't necessarily want Ray to hear the plea
but it came out loud and strong. 

 Vecchio just looked at him for a moment. A long moment. On top of
everything else he was now being kicked out. "Fine. You want me to go,
I'll go." 

 "I didn't say I wanted you to go. I just meant that... I'm just feeling a
little ... cloustrophic. Stop worrying." 

 "Stop worrying? That's rich. You want to get up and walk around to be
more comfortable, then you just go ahead and I'll stop worrying." 

 The nurse interrupted impatiently. "Your sister is looking for you. It's
something to do with Detective Kowalski." 

 "Christ, now what? He bump into another cart?" 

 "A moving truck, from the looks of him." 

 There was a delicate sigh from Ray Vecchio, the kind that meant that
someone under pressure just sank a few more inches below the surface. 

 "Go find out what happened to him," Fraser told him quietly. 

 "I'm going, I'm going. What the hell, I'd rather talk to him instead of
you anyway. Never thought you'd hear me say that, did you." 

 "I'm sorry I'm being difficult," Fraser offered quietly. "Please go check
on Ray."  

 Again, Vecchio played follower to the Pied Piper Nurse, this time to the
emergency room. He passed a line of curtains and beds until he saw the
unmistakable shoes of his sister under the last curtain. 

 "Here he is," the nurse announced with little enthusiasm and disappeared.


 Ray Kowalski was lying on the gurney, looking like hell. His ribs were
bandaged and his left arm was twisted awkwardly. His left thigh was
wrapped in a tensor bandage and rested on a pillow. There was an oxygen
mask covering his mouth and when he breathed, it was in short, painful
breaths. 

 Vecchio shook his head. "What the hell'd you do now, Kowalski?" 

 He didn't mean for this to come out so insensitively but he couldn't
believe his day had come to this point. Dealing with a hospitalized Fraser
was bad enough. Dealing with Kowalski was going to increase his sense of
frustration to new levels. 

 Frannie got up from the chair next to the bed and pulled her brother out
of earshot. "Welsh had Dewey and me bring him in once he found out Ray was
this bad. Ray won't say what happened. He just keeps grumbling that it's
none of my business. Dewey found him at the bottom of the staircase. Ray
said he slipped but nobody believes him. I told you something was wrong
with him." 

 "And I've been telling everyone that from the get-go." 

 "This isn't funny. He's really hurt. He's got bruises on his front and
back, he was breathing all weirdly because he's got a couple of broken
ribs that may have punctured a long, he's got a charley horse, and some
other stuff. Ray isn't speaking and the only thing we know is this didn't
happen today. He was limping last night when he went from the taxi to his
car. I was so worried about Fraser I didn't really pay that much
attention." 

 Vecchio delicately led her towards the exit sign before the guilt drifted
too far in Kowalski's favour. "I'll look after it, Frannie. I need you to
go check on Fraser. Room 411. Keep him company til I get back." 

 He usually did cartwheels to keep his sister away from his friend when
Fraser wasn't in any condition to do it for himself. Now, he was about to
send the hunter to the sitting duck. 

 Frannie's eyes lit up. "Really?" 

 "Really. I don't want him left alone up there." 

 She reached for her make-up bag inside her purse but caught herself
abruptly. "If you put it that way. Well, perhaps I'll see you up there.
Take your time." 

 "That's cruel," Ray Kowalski whispered though the mask when Frannie had
left. They were the first words he had spoken since being dragged down
here, admitted and left here to die. 

 "He's got it coming. What happened to you and don't tell me some story,
okay? I've had enough bullshit for one day." 

 "Fell down some stairs." 

 "Yeah, me too. Try again." 

 Kowalski clumsily lifted the mask onto his forehead. "It doesn't matter.
I'm getting out of here as soon as they turn their heads. It wasn't my
idea to come here anyway. Welsh made me." 

 "Yeah, he always makes his people take the afternoons off to hang around
here without a good reason." Ray pulled an old metal chair towards the
side of the gurney and sat down. "Look, I'm not sure what the big secret
here is, but I'm really not out to get you. Fact is, I'm kind of amazed
that you didn't get Fraser or anyone else killed over the last week, and
that you saved his life last night. I don't plan to use anything you tell
me to have you kicked out of the 27th, if that's what you're worried
about." 

 ".... fell." 

 Vecchio leaned over and pulled the mask back over Ray's face. "Keep this
on, will ya. They wouldn't give you oxygen if they didn't think you need
it." 

 "I don't." But he kept the mask on anyway. Vecchio probably thought he
had the oxygen because of the injuries. The moment Kowalski was wheeled
into this room, an unexpected bout of panic swept over him and he had
trouble catching his breath. The nurse asked if he would like some oxygen
and he couldn't say 'Yes' fast enough. Thank God Frannie was waiting in
the hall when this happened. 

 "How's Fraser?" 

 He asked me to leave. Ray couldn't get over how much that one hurt. "He's
getting cranky, why do you think I sent my sister up there?" 

 "Is that how you pay back people you're pissed off at?" 

 "Don't change the subject. Even Frannie noticed you were hurt last night
and she's not exactly known for her medical observations." It disturbed
him that Frannie had noticed this about someone her brother didn't want
her noticing. It was good he sent her Fraser's way. Fraser in distress
would be just the thing to keep her mind where it belonged. "So what
happened between leaving Fraser at the consulate and getting back to your
car in the middle of the night. You said the perp didn't lay a finger on
you." 

 "He didn't." 

 "Then who did?" 

 "Nobody. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Today, I felt
worse and slipped down the stairs on my way out of the building. That's
it." 

 "I don't care about the staircase. I want to know about last night." 

 "Nothing to tell." 

 "Fine, I'll just ask around the station, find out who was on duty and ask
what they saw. I'm a Detective, remember? Everybody in that place knows
something and it'll take me about five, maybe ten minutes to put it
together." 

 "And when you find out, then what?" This question wasn't a dare. Ray
Kowalski, damaged as he was, wanted to know what Vecchio intended to do
about it. 

 Vecchio pretended not to notice the bluntness of the question. "Depends.
What do you want me to do about it?" 

 "Let it go." 

 "Should I?" 

 "Yer the detective, you figure it out." 

 Vecchio laughed but it was an uneasy laugh. "You must have really done
something embarrassing, Kowalski." 

 It wasn't easy to sigh at the moment, let alone talk, but Ray Kowalski
managed both at the same time. 

 "All I'm saying is that if you figure it out, you don't do anything. You
let it drop. Same as I would if it was you." 

 Vecchio didn't answer this. He let it pass the way he was learning to let
everything pass these days. Funny how much easier it got with every
occasion. "When are they going to let you out of here?" 

 "Depends on the x-rays I guess. Probably today." 

 "Okay. Listen, you got anyone to stay with you for a day or so?" Please
say yes, please say yes. 

 "I'll be fine." 

 Ray Vecchio desperately wanted to take that as a, 'Yes'. His conscience
didn't. "If you don't, you can stay at my place." 

 "Said I'm fine." 

 "Then I'll drive you home and make sure." 

 The edgy reply wasn't lost on Kowalski who shot back, "What - not going
to sick your sister on me?" 

 "You two keep your distance." 

 "She doesn't like me much anyway." 

 Ray looked at Kowalski square on and warned soberly, "You better keep it
that way."  

 "What if you're right?" 

 "And what if I'm wrong? That's a serious accusation, Francessca." 

 "What's a serious accusation?" 

 Ray Vecchio had wandered back into the room looking entirely defeated by
his visit with Kowalski. Now his sister was sitting on the side of
Fraser's bed and the Mountie didn't seem to be minding. Of course, he had
a fever and probably didn't know the danger he was in... 

 "Nothing," Fraser said rather sullenly. He still didn't know how to deal
with Ray when this kind of tension was hovering in the air. 

 Frannie didn't bother to wait for permission. "Fraser heard something the
other day and I think it makes sense with what happened to Ray." 

 "One of you want to share it with me or is this just how you want to
drive me out of my tree?" 

 "Fraser remembered Tim saying something about taking the law into Tim
Saunders way or something like that a couple of days ago." 

 This got Vecchio's attention. "That true, Benny? What kind of thing?" 

 "He was boasting about this and that and the subject of teaching certain
... well, it was considered a 4 letter word people lessons. I honestly
don't think it was serious. I don't know the man but I can't believe that
kind of school yard bullying would take place in a Chicago Police
Station." 

 "I can," Francessa sighed. She hated most of the testosterone cases in
there anyway. The sandwich business was the only reason she hung around.
That and the fact that she knew she had a captive customer in Fraser and
got to see him every day. 

 "Ray, you aren't going to do anything stupid," Fraser checked. 

 "I'm just going to check this out. It's probably nothing but if I can't
find a better excuse for Kowalski's injuries, I'll see what I can find.
And I'm not going to do anything stupid. I really wish you'd stop using
that word, Fraser, it gets on my nerves. 

 "I'm not saying you're stupid." 

 "Yeah? Well, that's what it sounds like every time it floats outa your
mouth." 

 "Oh. Dear. I'm sorry. I didn't think." 

 "There's a newsflash." 

 Frannie watched this unexpected volley and knew where it was going. She
grabbed her brother's arm and delicately pulled him back towards the
doorway. "Retract the claws, Ray. He's not feeling well." 

 Vecchio shook his head and tried not to scream. "He's not feeling well.
Lot of that going around." 

 "Take it easy, okay? How's Ray?" 

 "Don't know yet. Can you stay with Fraser for a bit longer?" 

 "Sure, I can stay. He doesn't mean it when he sounds like he's bring
condensing, you know." 

 "You mean condescending? Sometimes I wonder if he knows anything under
that IQ Red Jacket." 

 "Not now, Ray. Go get some air. Ma needs her groceries for the week, go
get them for her. Do something that doesn't have to do with work for a
while. These guys'll be fine. Geesh, I forgot how uptight you can get." 

 He knew she was right - she usually was when it comes to his darker
moods. But for the life of him, he couldn't seem to pull himself out of
this one.  

 Vecchio drove directly to the station. When he arrived, he didn't
discretely ask for information about the previous evening. He didn't give
a medical update to Welsh because he knew Welsh would to want to know what
the hell happened to Kowalski. 

 Vecchio asked one or two people if they had seen Tim Saunders around. One
person thought he might have been in Holding. This was good enough. 

 Tim was returning from Holding and, oddly enough, he was alone. Usually
there were a few of Saunders well chosen friends by his side. Saunders
didn't like to travel light. Now, that had just become a major mistake. 

 "Saunders, can I see you a sec." Vecchio had all the best smiles and now
he was using his finest to get the fishie to jump into the net. It was a
conspiratorial smile, the kind that said 'Good Going' without ever
admitting to thinking such a thing. 

 Saunders fell for it. He shrugged his shoulders, poked his head into an
empty investigation, and held the door open for Vecchio. 

 They were alone in the room. "This about Kowalski?" Saunders smirked.
"Thought you'd like that. You should have seen him right after." 

 Vecchio did see him after and he wasn't smart enough to remember that
people like Saunders hit low so that nothing ever showed. So instead, Ray
only saw a clumsy guy in the waiting room who didn't seem in any hurry to
move around any more than he had to. 

 "Hate those kind of cops," Saunders continued with a grin that said how
much he loved cops like those because they gave him something to hate. 

 Vecchio ignored the comment and drove his fist deep into Saunder's
stomach. Saunders dropped to the floor like a surprised sandbag. 

 Ray pointed a finger at him and warned, "Stay away from my partner." And
he calmly wandered out of the room.  

 The few days that followed were quiet for the players involved. Kowalski
was ordered to go on sick leave until he could walk without as much pain,
and that was fine with him. He stayed home for two days and didn't call
anyone, mostly because there was nobody to call and, usually, he liked it
that way. 

 Ray Vecchio answered, 'Flu bug' whenever anyone asked about the absent
Kowalski and he spoke as little as possible to anyone else, Welsh
included. His visits to Fraser were short and polite. Did he feel better,
was there anything he needed. Fraser didn't follow up about Tim Saunders,
even though Frannie had remarked that the usually confident Saunders was
moody and on his own. Vecchio didn't offer up that he punched the crap out
of the guy with one good shot. Fraser was recovering, there was no
permanent damage and until he was released from the hospital, it didn't
seem like there was anything else to talk about except for the weather. 

 And nobody spoke about the obvious absence of Inspector Margaret Thatcher
from Fraser's life. What they didn't know was that she had gone to visit
Fraser when she was sure there was no other visitors. She only went once,
that was enough. She apologized for making her mistake of not calling
Vecchio the minute she received the wrong number phone call. Since
Fraser's accident, she had made the report and her mistake and wanted to
know if Ottawa wished to reprimand her. 

 Fraser hadn't asked her if she had heard about Victoria Metcalfe and the
mess that resulted from her. He didn't have a clue what she did and didn't
know about him because she never confronted him about the mystery bullet
that was still causing trouble. Then it occurred to him that nobody was
confronting anybody about a lot of things these days and wasn't that
turning a lot of situations into worse situations. 

 Thatcher was ready to hate him, she still almost did. That changed when
she appeared in his hospital room the day after he was admitted. He was
groggy, he was aching, he was startled, and he still managed to sit up and
try to remove his hat, before realizing he didn't have it on.. She had
made solid plans to dislike this man from the start and that plan was
moving along nicely. That was until he absently tried to remove his hat.
He was a gentleman and probably a good man and she didn't have any
contingencies in her plan for those little developments.  

 It was day three and Fraser was going to be released from the hospital.
Ray Vecchio was the obvious choice to drive him home. Separately, each man
called Ray Kowalski to see if he wanted to come along, test out his sea
legs, keep them company in case one or the other panicked at the thought
of more polite conversation or direct verbal assaults. 

 Ray Kowalski said yes. He didn't know why he said yes, he just went
against type and decided it was as good way as any to get out of the
apartment and revisit the world. Besides that, he hoped he might run into
Frannie Vecchio. That was a long shot but these days Ray didn't have
anything better to bet on. He usually hated being away from work. He
worked overtime, he worked weekends, and he worked whenever he could
because being home was a painful, extended exercise in mental hell.
Saturdays were tolerable because you did what you were supposed to; stores
were open and you did what you had to. Sundays were just plain torture
because they lasted forever. Ray never had anything to do, nothing he
wanted to do and nobody to do it with. He didn't think that bothered him
but sometimes it did. He was a loner - that was by DNA and hard work.
Sometimes it didn't seem like such a good idea. Sometimes he would plan
things to do. A car show, a jog down by the lake. The better the idea, the
firmer the commitment in his head. By the time Sunday morning came, rain
or shine, he always found a way to avoid the trip. Sleeping was an easier
alternative. 

 But now, this time he was hurt and exhausted by something that not only
dented his physical being but also crept in and did something to his
emotions. He hadn't felt this alone since Stella told him she wanted a
divorce. She moved out the next Sunday. For whatever reason, the last few
days of Ray's life felt like that particular Sunday, the day that never
ended. This time something he couldn't quite identify what exactly had
been taken away. He just knew that something in his life had shifted, and
as with Stella's departure, he was going to have to work around that
shift. 

 Francessca had actually visited him once to bring some reports from work
that needed his signature. At first, Kowalski wondered if this was some
secret ploy to visit him and piss off her brother. Then the absurd thought
entered his mind that she might have used the ploy to visit him because
she wanted to, whether she pissed off her brother or not. Then his own
sense of reality hit home and he decided the overdue arrest reports really
did need his signature. 

 When Vecchio called and asked him to help "drag Fraser home," he said
'yes' because he didn't have a good reason not to. When Fraser called, a
few hours later, to suggest that Ray Kowalski join Vecchio in taking him
home, he said 'yes' because he had the unusual suspicion that he was
needed. 

 Right now, he and Fraser - who was sitting in a wheelchair - were waiting
for Vecchio to arrive. Vecchio was being late these days so it didn't seem
to matter that these two guys were kept waiting. 

 Ray, still unable to walk without a cane, eased himself down on the side
of the bed and began pressing the up and down button. The bed slowly rose
and fell, according to its latest orders. "This argument you got going
with Vecchio," he began tentatively "- it have anything to do with me?" 

 Fraser was trying not to look concerned about hurting anyone's feelings
but it wasn't working. "Not really. Well, it started out with you but it
goes deeper than that - other things that haven't been dealt with. Things
I had happily deluded myself into thinking were fine simply because they
never got discussed." 

 "That what you were talking about the other night?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Oh." Something cleaner along the lines of, 'That's okay. You guys are
pretty tight so whatever it is must be pretty big. You can tell me if you
think it'll help'' floated though his mind. Unfortunately, another
installation of the weary, 'Whatever' came out instead. 

 "It's nothing personal, Ray and I appreciate your good intentions but I
can't even bring myself to go over it in my head, let alone hear myself
saying it aloud to someone else. It's that difficult." 

 "Don't worry about it." 

 Fraser looked at him carefully. "You sure?" 

 This caught Ray by surprise. People didn't usually check with his
feelings once they'd inadvertently dented them. He was kind of touched.
"S'okay." 

 "I don't think I've thanked you for being so diligent in finding me the
other night. If you hadn't followed your instincts and pursued the case, I
might not be here. What made you realize the man was after me, not
Inspector Moffatt?" 

 "Just a couple of things not adding up. Frannie Vecchio remembered a
couple of things about that day in the park." 

 "Francessca?" 

 "Well, yeah, she's got a good memory." Not to mention a diary full of
more details than you could ever handle knowing about. Ray enjoyed the
look on her face when she realized she'd been busted in front of the new
guy. Priceless. If they ever became friends, he would spring this on her
during especially weak moments. That was a big 'If Ever', though. Ray
never kidded himself about those. 

 "Francessca?" Fraser repeated incredulously, this time to himself. 

 "Well - yeah. It could happen." Ray figured there were twelve volumes in
there probably. Maybe fifteen. 

 "I suppose so." Fraser watched Ray press the up and down button for a few
moments. The head of the bed continued to glide up and down. Ray seemed
oblivious to the fact that he was cause of the motion. "Was it Detective
Saunders who assaulted you?" 

 The bed stopped in mid air. Ray took his finger off the button and
glanced uncomfortably at Fraser. 

 "Why?" 

 "Mild speculation. It just makes sense. You were fine at the consulate
when you found me. When Ray Vecchio met you in the hospital that night, he
mentioned how out of sorts you seemed." 

 Three nights ago, Kowalski returned to the 27th with Fraser's assailant.
He booked him and headed down the hall towards the coffee room. Tim, his
partner Jim and a few other followers nudged Ray into one of the
lesser-used interrogation room. Someone - Ray never saw whom - thumped him
hard across the back and sent him sprawling to the floor. At that point, a
one of the Tim's boys began kicking him in the ribs, another in the back
and one in the thigh. When Tim wasn't welcoming Ray to his little
initiation to the 27th, he was reminding his crew not to leave any marks
on Ray's face or anyplace visible. Tim knew his stuff. 

 "Does Vecchio know it was Saunders?" 

 Obviously Kowalski hadn't been briefed on Ray Vecchio's latest attempt at
justice. Word spread pretty fast around the station that Tim Saunders had
been worked over and Ray Vecchio was the last guy to see him upright. By
the time the news hit Welsh's desk, the story was that Ray Vecchio had
tossed Saunders headfirst down the garbage shoot. Twice. 

 "He made a remark that I found unsuitable," Vecchio explained smoothly to
Welsh when he was called in. "I kind of had to let him have it. So I gave
him a single punch to the stomach in Investigation Room Eight at
approximately Five-forty five PM. Would he like to press charges, Sir?" 

 Welsh had merely stared at him, trying to gage the accuracy of the
bullshit that was just spilled over his desk and replied that that, no,
there would be no further activity. He merely wanted to get the story
straight. 

 Then, Vecchio thanked him for his time and left the office. Not another
word was said about Tim Saunders. 

 "Yes," Fraser replied, "He knows. Despite your feelings towards each
other, please don't confuse Ray Vecchio with Tim Saunders. They are two
completely different men even if they have given the common appearance of
... well, disliking you." 

 There was no response. Kowalski still wasn't convinced of the distinction
between the two hates. 

 "I know this is none of my business but why don't you file a complaint
against Saunders? What he did has cost you time away from your job, a
great deal of pain. More time in a hospital that you probably were
comfortable with." 

 "Nobody'd believe me. Saunders is the kind of shit who's been getting
away with that crap for a long time." 

 "Perhaps now's the time to put a stop to that." Ray lowered his head and
looked sideways at Fraser. 

 Fraser knew that look after only a week of knowing this man. There were
several avenues attached to it that meant getting himself into trouble. He
had come to far in knowing this man to risk more roadblocks. "I'll leave
it to you to decide." 

 "Good." 

 They heard a heavy set of feet approaching from the hallway. Fraser was
particularly good at identifying the owners of certain footsteps.
Kowalski's feet shuffled with a hint of a thud on the left foot. Frannie
wore heals that moved faster than a gazelle. Ray Vecchio's had the heavy
determined thud. 

 They waited for this particular set of feet to stop at the door. The
footsteps continued and both men seemed to ease. 

 "You know," Fraser began once he was sure they were still alone, "If it
makes you feel any better, I've also been prejudged by someone who didn't
have all the facts." 

 "The Ice Queen." 

 "Well, yes. But that's not a very kind name, Ray." 

 "It fits. Why's she hate you?" 

 "It seems she had carefully read my file before coming to Chicago and she
had been less than impressed with certain details of my work with
Detective Vecchio. She hasn't said as much but I suspect much of her
dislike also stems from a case I was involved with. The one I don't want
to talk about. I didn't exactly emerge from that situation as an officer
Inspector Thatcher would want on her team." 

 "This case involve you and some chick from Canada?" 

 Fraser nodded. 

 "I heard something about that. I didn't hear it all. Vecchio stormed in
and told them to shut up. You fall hard for this chick?" 

 The thud heard round the world. Fraser couldn't even look this man in the
eye. He just nodded. 

 "So that musta been pretty rough." 

 "Yes," Fraser replied with unusual frankness. His eyes were still focused
on the side of the wheelchair. 

 "Very." 

 "And Vecchio almost took the fall with you. I kinda heard something about
that too. He looks after you, doesn't he?" 

 "Yes, he does." 

 And suddenly a lot of the animosity didn't subside - it began to make
sense. "That rumour about the guy - one of my old partners. It wasn't like
they said. That story - shit, that's gone through so many pairs of pants I
don't even know what's the right one. We were on a chase. He hopped out of
the car to follow on foot - guy he was chasing kicked him back towards the
car. There was no way I could stop in time. I flew into some fast food
place there and yelled for someone to call 911. By the time I got back, he
was gone. That was five years ago and that's all people think of when they
hear my name." 

 "Did you ever think that the rumours continue because you let them
continue. Your silence lets them. You don't stand up for yourself." Oddly
enough, the words of Ray Vecchio came tripping back to his tongue. 

 "You have to stand up for yourself or else those rumours, those stories,
those attitudes will follow you everywhere." 

 "I told you, people are going to believe what they want to believe. End
of story." 

 Fraser sighed tensely. Obviously this subject had been on his mind.
"Because you don't make the effort to set them straight, or let them know
that those who continue to tell these libelous things are accountable to
you." 

 Ray hadn't been accused of this since Stella made her feelings known
years before the divorce. She was fight and fire. Ray didn't like to waste
his breath. Now he wasn't so sure. 

 "What about Lieutenant Welsh's offer to make you a permanent member of
the department," Fraser was asking. " Is that a possibility?" 

 Kowalski shrugged that same deceptive shrug. "Might be okay to hang
around the same place for a while." 

 "As well it might be okay to have you hang around for a while." 

 "Whatever." 

 "Understood."	

 They drove in near silence. Vecchio talked about the weather, Kowalski
made a few select remarks about the Riv and Fraser mused about the
weather. 

 "Still can't believe you live here," Kowalski said as he followed Fraser
and Vecchio into 3J. 

 Vecchio dropped Fraser's overnight bag on the kitchen counter and looked
around. "Guess my sister still has the wolf. Poor dog." 

 Maybe she'll bring him by, Kowalski wanted to suggest but he didn't think
it would come out right and Vecchio would see right through him. "Yeah,
poor dog," he muttered instead and wished he were the poor dog. 

 Fraser was standing awkwardly in his living room. It reminded Vecchio of
the last time he brought his friend home from the hospital. He had spent
two hours cleaning it up, getting rid of the signs that anything had gone
wrong. He did his best to return the apartment it to how it had been
before she dropped the bombs into their lives. Then he went to get Fraser
from the hospital. He had left Fraser here, made small talk and left.
Neither of them had talked about what had happened. Both of them took the
silence to mean it was over. Both of them were wrong. 

 Now there was a third party present, sitting at the kitchen table looking
as awkward as any third person who didn't know why the hell he was there. 

 Kowalski said, "I gotta go to the can." His voice, or the announcement,
seemed to take the other two by surprise. It was more like panic. 

 "It's all the way down the hall," Vecchio carefully pointed out. He
suddenly needed to talk Kowalski out of leaving him alone with Fraser. 

 "I can find it." 

 Fraser and Vecchio watched the third man get to his feet and delicately
hobble out of the apartment. When the door closed they knew they were
alone and silence wasn't on the menu. 

 "He's walking better" Vecchio remarked blandly. 

 "Yes, he is." 

 Vecchio watched Fraser carefully sit down on the side of the bed and
wince. "What's wrong?" 

 "Nothing. I just sat down the wrong way." 

 "Well, don't sit like that if it hurts." 

 "I'm not sitting like anything. It's a little pain. I'll have to get use
to it." 

 "What, until it goes away? I think you just found out old bullet wounds
don't go away, they hide out in your damn back until it's time to pop up
again." 

 Fraser didn't look at him. He kept his eyes fixed to the floor in front
of him. 

 Ray's bullying voice broke his concentration. "You do that a lot you
know. You let stuff just sit there and hope it goes away." 

 "I'm sorry." 

 "About what! You even know what to be sorry about? You know what - just
forget it. I'm not doing this, not now, not with him about to waltz back
in here." 

 "Do what?" It was a simple, quiet question that Fraser asked to his shoe.
He couldn't get over how hard it was to look this man in the eye. 

 "Let you have it for all this crap that I'm pissed off at you for, that
you probably don't even know I'm pissed off at! You pull all that crap - I
coulda lost my house, my family, my job - I almost get you killed. All of
that because you weren't thinking like a cop." 

 Fraser didn't say anything because there wasn't anything to say. Every
word that tumbled out of Ray's mouth was more truthful than the last. 

 "I went through all that with you, I stayed cool though I was freaking
inside all that time when they were getting all that evidence she left
behind. I never let on to you but I was pissing my pants inside because I
knew we didn't stand a chance with what she had done. And even if you
hadn't been set up and the whole thing was your idea, I still stayed
there. You fell for her, you made me shoot her and you were going to leave
with her. I know you told me that up front but it still makes me mad that
you coulda fallen for this, that you could be so weak. Do you know what
that would have done to me if you'd made it? I'd have lost the house, my
family would have suffered, most likely my job, not to mention my mental
health. And I know why you did it, cause she played you great and you were
desperate enough to fall along, just when she needed you to but ... you
still risked just about everything I had and I'm so angry off at you about
that - and now, that old bullet pops back and it brings all that stuff
back. Just when I thought I was past it, all neat and tidy like." 

 "I wish you could have told me this sooner." 

 "When was I was going to bring it up? When you were lying there in the
hospital - shot, not sure which way was up, thinking your world was over?
It's kinda in the same league as never hitting your sister, Fraser, you
don't do it. But then you clamed up and got on with it so I did too. Then
all of this happens and I'm so full of something I can't stand it." 

 Kowalski was at the door. He didn't like witnessing the unraveling of Ray
Vecchio, it was too intrusive. Vecchio saw Kowalski by the door and
snapped, "You getting all of this, Kowalski? This is what you get yourself
into when you .... Never mind. This is done." 

 Ray didn't answer; he just glanced awkwardly back and forth between the
two men and returned to the table. It was much safer across the room. He
was glad he took the break and now is sorry he didn't keep walking. These
two friends at odds were presenting one of the most unnerving moments he
had known in a long time. 

 Vecchio nodded tiredly. "I'm not saying I'm still mad - I mean I am, but
not like I was then. Mostly for keeping it in like this. Look, I'm gonna
go. I said all I wanted to. Anything else will just mess this up more." 

 "I don't think you've messed anything up." Fraser quietly told him. 

 "Don't be so sure. When you get back to work, I don't want this hanging
over us. This is done. It's been said, and now it's done." 

 "I understand." 

 Vecchio had forgotten the ghost sitting quietly at the table until he saw
him. He was frustrated that here was still one more thing to deal with.
"As for you." 

 "As for Me' what?" This is why Ray Kowalski didn't like to make friends;
they came back at him with opening statements that made him accountable to
people, and he wasn't comfortable enough with people for this kind of
arrangement. Other people's rules and conditions never fit. 

 Vecchio continued his journey. "For what it's worth, I got no problem
with you being assigned to the 27th or working with you. But if that's
happening, we gotta do a couple of things. A week ago it might have been
different but this is now. I'm filing a complaint, with or without your
signature. I heard about Saunders and his crew pulling this kind of thing
before, but this is the first time I've seen it up close. Nobody's done
anything before but we're going to." 

 Kowalski shook his head. "I'll look after him when I get back to work." 

 "Too late, it's been taken care of. Next step is doing it officially." 

 "What do you mean, 'it's been taken care of'?" 

 Vecchio kept his cool. "I just said it, didn't I?" 

 "What - You?" 

 "Don't keel over in shock, Kowalski. I don't like having my partners,
dolts though they can be, done over. I'm talking about telling Welsh and
making it official." 

 "I told you I wanted to let it go." 

 "Not if you're staying. If you're staying, you clean up those stories
that have been flying around since you showed up. You set people straight
on what's true and what's not and then you start fresh. That's what you're
gonna do. I can't work it any other way. This job's got too much riding on
it to be worrying about where you're at." 

 "You don't have to worry about where I'm at," Kowalski growled back.
"That's my problem." 

 "Not if we're working together." 

 Fraser sighed tensely from the other side of the room. "Perhaps now would
be a good time to clear up some of the misconceptions that seem to be
running amok." 

 "Yeah, good idea. I'll start." Vecchio nodded and turned to Ray Kowalski.
"You responsible for your last partner buying it?" 

 It wasn't the time to be referring to dangerous moments one put their
partner through, Fraser thought. 

 Kowalski stared Vecchio in the eye and calmly answered, "No." 

 "You on the take?" 

 "No." 

 "You ever worked in Narc against cops?" 

 "No." 

 "Dirty?" 

 Kowalski just glared at him. "Geeze, now people are saying I smell?" 

 "Not that kind of dirty, Kowalski. Cop dirty." 

 His eyes widened. "People are saying I'm a dirty cop? Oh, shit, I told
ya, people are going to think what they want. I hadn't even heard the one
about being 'Dirty'." 

 "This may be news to you but that doesn't happen if you put them
straight. People ain't exactly psychic, if you haven't noticed. And if you
have people in your corner, it makes it easier for us to tell them to shut
up, if we know what it is we're telling them to shut up about." 

 There was dead silence. 

 Ray Kowalski looked doubtfully between the two men. "What, like... you
two telling people to shut up?" 

 "Yeah, like us two. I'm not having people spread crap about my partner if
it's not true. Makes me look bad. I got enough going against me these
days." 

 "I don't need people speaking for me." Then Kowalski shifted
uncomfortably in the chair and quietly admitted, "I'm not used to people
taking up for me." 

 "Well, get used to it and drop this Lone Wolf crap. No more doing things
on your own. You got a lead, you tell your partner." 

 And that was the end of the sermon. Vecchio had said all he had wanted
to, and more. Where the more came from - or the guts to spill them - was a
mystery to him but that was beside the point. These two men in front of
him now knew where he stood and that was the first bit of control in this
whole mess that was actually in his hands again.  

 "Why were you so quick to hate Fraser?" 

 Vecchio was driving Kowalski home. It was his suggestion and Kowalski was
taking his favours where he could get them these days. 

 "I mean besides messing up your drug deal," Vecchio clarified. "And every
other annoying thing he's done. He was pretty stand-up with you when no
one else was." 

 "I've done a lot of undercover and the nice guys were usually the first
to try and screw you over." 

 "And now?" 

 "Now? I donno, it's hard to explain. It's like he's this weird kinda
thing or something. Everyone either wants to get in your face or they
don't want anything to do with you. He's kinda.... neither. But he gives a
shit, you know? I don't know. He's a freak." 

 "Yeah, but he's a good freak." 

 "What the hell is it with this littering thing he does? 

 Vecchio shrugged. "He only usually does it when he's feeling off about
something. Guess I should have paid more attention. It hasn't been easy
for him, being back here after everything that happened with that woman.
His whole world got flipped upside down. Suppose picking up other people's
litter is his way of keeping control over the simple things." 

 "And that's normal for him?" 

 "Pretty much."  

 "I got 52 arrests last month." 

 "I got thirty-five." 

 "Convictions?" 

 "More than you'll know." 

 "Come on, big shot, gimme some numbers here..." 

 They had been back at work for a week now. The past case had been closed,
the acrimony gently swept away. Fraser found it a relief every time he was
with the two men because they weren't at each other's throats. They were
not making him the middleman. 

 Fraser stood between the two desks and interrupted the conviction count.
"Why don't you just admit what you want? Just say, 'Ray, I'd like to drive
your car'." 

 They looked at him as if he was a psycho idiot. 

 "Well, you do don't you?" 

 They continued the stare-a-thon at him. 

 Fraser turned to Vecchio first. "Did you not say to me two days ago that
you'd give your-" 

 "Fraser!" 

 "...arm for a chance to drive that car?" 

 "You're a dead man, Fraser, you're really dead." 

 "And you." He turned to Kowalski, who quickly stopped smirking. "Did you
not say to Francesca - who wasted no time in telling me - that you would
indeed 'Kiss Vecchio's-" 

 "You really wanna die here, Fraser?" Kowalski spat out 

 "...ahem... 'ass' for a spin in the Riv." 

 They both glared at him. They both wanted him silenced. 

 He glanced back and forth. "Well? Would it not seem like the generous
thing to do to let the other have a spin in your car? I sense that you
would each drive the vehicles as if they were your own babies, so I doubt
very much that safety is the issue here. Would either of you say 'no' if
the other offered you the keys for a quick trip around the block?" 

 "No," both men mumbled to the floor at the same time. They realized
they'd basically been busted. 

 "Well then?" 

 "Gimme the keys to your car, Kowalski, I wanna run him over." 

 "You'd probably miss him. I'll do it." 

 And so it began. 

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End After The Vault by Tupper: lionelzowner@sympatico.ca

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