HOPE CHEST   Author's disclaimer: Although the story is mine, it is
a work of fiction based on the character of Due South. All Characters
portrayed here belong to Alliance. Please do not print/copy/download or
send any part of this story to anyone else, other than for your personal
enjoyment. Thank you. 

         Well, here is a story that didn't turn out anything like I
thought it would, but Fear *Aradia dared me to write it so I hope you
enjoy my attempt. There are minor spoilers for Call of the Wild, though
the ending of this episode differs in my story. References to Some like it
Red. Overall the story itself takes place ofer the course of Fraser's
knowing both Ray's {Vecchio and Kowalski} so it jumps back and forth a
bit. 

This story is rated PG-for violence and death story. 
        Please contact me at perrymor@home.net 
        Puhleese tell me whatcha' think!!! :). 
  

  

HOPE CHEST 

BY: Amethyst 
  

         Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, son
of Robert and Caroline Fraser. Friend to Detective Raymond Vecchio,
subordinate of Inspector Margaret Thatcher, traitor to his fellow Canadian
officers, sexual torment to Francesca Vecchio, scapegoat to Victoria
Metcaf, and joke to the Americans around him. Here he sat alone in his
sparsely furnished apartment staring at the small square trunk that stood
before him, adorned in layers of wood and hide and delicate hand-knit
embroidery. 
         His Mother's hope chest. It had been found in their old house by
the new owners, who had decided to add on to the small log cabin, in the
bottom of the root cellar. It must have been missed by his Father when
Robert Fraser collected the necessary items needed to move a young Benton
Fraser in with his grandparents after his mother's death. Robert Fraser
had never returned to the home that he had shared with his wife, once she
was gone he never went back except for those few things for Benton. 
         Now, so many long years later, Fraser finally had something of
Caroline's to remember her by, yet now he was afraid. He had grieved for
his mother when she had died, but he had been only six and they had never
let him see his Mother's body. Grandmother Fraser had taken him directly
to her house, never got to see his Mother or his beloved little house
again. Robert Fraser had come finally and collected those things he deemed
pertinent, then sold the cabin, the same cabin that had burned to the
ground before Benton was born, forcing his parents to live in an igloo for
many months where according to his father was where Benton was conceived. 
         So many times growing up, Fraser would start to rush home to tell
his Mother something exciting that had happened to him, then would
reprimand himself for being foolish. His Mother was dead and he must move
on. He had not cried when his Grandmother had taken him with her, they had
told him that, though he did not remember much of that day, an oddity
considering his near perfect recall. He had not cried when Robert Fraser
had told him his Mother would never return to him. He had not cried at the
quiet funeral or for all the years following. He had not cried, but he had
grown angry, very angry. Why had death claimed his beautiful Mother, the
only person Fraser ever believed loved him. Why had they not taken his
Father, a man he barely knew and rarely saw instead? His mother had been
good and kind and never bothered anyone and she died. Fraser went through
various stages of guilt over those years. He had not really wanted Robert
Fraser to die, he loved that man more than anyone, even his  dear beloved
mother, yet Robert never seemed to reciprocate. He felt guilty for having
loved his father more, believed death had taken his mother as punishment,
believed she died for daring to show Fraser she loved him. 
         Then, after years of burying his anger and grief, Fraser had
started to finally know his father a little better, and if he was almost
sure that the years of guilt, from neglecting his son, were building up on
Robert Fraser and causing him to visit Fraser more often. He had made a
special effort to get home for Christmas, or Fraser's birthday, even
though they did not celebrate or speak much, it was a start. Fraser had
quickly joined the RCMP to become a Mountie like his Father, so they would
have something in common. His Grandmother Fraser died shortly after she
confessed to him that she was proud of him. Fraser had written briefly to
his father a few times and Fraser was waiting for an opening to express
his true feelings to the man he so adored, when the news came that Robert
Fraser had been shot, gunned down by his own friend. Once again it seemed
that someone who dared to love him was taken by death's cold hand. 
         Now, here he was, staring at his Mother's trunk, wishing for an
absolution. He still in some ways blamed himself for her death and he was
hesitant to delve into Caroline Fraser's inner most thoughts by seeing the
types of treasures she kept. With a deep breath, an encouraging whine from
Diefenbaker, and a shaky hand, Fraser knelt beside the trunk and slowly
lifted the lid. A light smell of peppermint greeted him and he was
surprised to feel tears spring to his eyes. His Mother always smelled like
peppermint, her one vice was stocks of the favored candy that Robert
Fraser always brought home for her, and she was always sneaking them to
Fraser with a secretive smile, knowing Robert Fraser wouldn't approve.
Robert Fraser, however, was rarely there, but Caroline made extra attempts
to play their secret game in front of her husband whenever possible. After
Caroline died, Fraser couldn't force himself to eat another peppermint, it
was too painful a reminder of what once was. 
         Inside the trunk were various picture books, papers and some
small crafts. Fraser recognized some of them, but not all, for some had
been from Caroline's own childhood. He retrieved a small cigar box, tied
with a pretty red ribbon, his Mother's favorite color, and pulled it out
on to his lap to open it. He suddenly remembered his Mother telling him
that was why she married Robert Fraser, because she had seen him the first
time in that dashing red tunic and decided any man that wore her colors so
proudly would be her husband. It was funny how he hadn't recalled that
particular conversation before, but he had only snatches of memory about
Caroline Fraser. 
          Turning his attention back to the box, he found it held
Christmas, Birthday and an assortment of other holiday's cards, homemade
by Fraser when he was a child. He pulled out a crepe paper Mother's Day
offering, that had a picture of Caroline drawn in shaded charcoal with
rainbows and flowers adorning the background. It was a very good likeness
of his Mother and Fraser realized it was the last card he had given her.
He opened it up and read the small poem he had penned inside in shaky,
grade letters. 
        "I love to hear you laughing 
          I love to see you smile 
          I love it when you hug me 
          And make me feel worth while 
          I love all this about you 
          And so I simply say 
         I'm glad you are my Mother 
         So Happy Mother's Day" 
Fraser had borrowed his Teacher's dictionary to help him find just the
right words for the card and he was surprised when Caroline had cried when
she read it, for he thought that meant she didn't like it. He stayed on
the mantel for three months after, for every one to see when they came to
visit, for Caroline was sure to point it out by saying 
         "Look what my wonderful Benny made me." 
         "Benny?" Fraser raised his head at his name being softly spoken
by his partner and Friend Ray Vecchio. Ray Vecchio had knocked on his
partner's door and entered hen he received no answer, surprised the
usually alert Mountie had not heard him. As always the detective was
impeccable dressed in a dark gray suit, pale shirt and colorful tie 
         "Hello, Ray." Fraser greeted in warm surprise, as Ray coiled
himself into a sitting position beside him and Diefenbaker wandered over
to see what his favorite junk-food supplier had brought for him. Ray
chuckled and petted the wolf affectionately. 
         "Not today, Dief." He explained receiving a protesting whine from
the animal that settled once gain by the window. "Whatch'a got here,
Benny?" 
         "It was my Mother's Hope Chest, Ray." Explained Fraser quietly,
suddenly glad that his friend was here and he didn't have to explore the
contents alone. "It was sent to me yesterday by some people who own our
old cabin, they found it in a root cellar." Ray glanced at the card his
partner     held. 
         "You make that?" Fraser nodded and handed it to the detective,
who examined it carefully. "This is real nice, Benny. You're Mom was
pretty." Fraser nodded. 
         "She was beautiful." He stated quietly as Ray read the card, then
saw the date at the bottom. 
 "You were, what..six when you made this?" he asked and Fraser nodded.
"Jeez, Benny, I couldn't even draw a stick man at that age." Fraser
shrugged and placed the card back in the box. 
         "I've always been able to draw, I get it from Mum." He didn't
mention that that was the last card he had made for Caroline, feeling it
better left alone. "She used to paint and draw with pencils. I always..."
he broke off and noticed Ray watching him thoughtfully. He was talking too
much, better to just get back to the task at hand. He replaced the card
box and pulled out a soft blue, slightly ragged around the edges, blanket.

         "What's that?" asked Ray as Fraser held it up and examined it
carefully. 
         "It was my baby blanket." He remarked surprised. "I used to take
it with me everywhere, until Dad decided it was silly for a grown boy to
be dragging around a blanket, so he threw it out." 
        "How old were you?" 
         "Three, no two I think." Remarked Fraser, caressing the soft
material. Ray snorted. 
         "A grown child!" he retorted. "You were a baby, Benny." Fraser
shrugged, he had stopped trying to explain his Father's actions years ago
and had grown to accept that was just who Robert Fraser was. 
         "Mum must have dug it out of the trash and washed it." He
murmured, more to himself then his partner beside him. That surprised him,
since for the most part Caroline rarely defied Robert Fraser on such
issues, yet she had rescued his beloved blanket and packed it safely
inside her chest, knowing her husband would never dare invade this
particular area of his wife's. He pulled it up to his face and breathed
in, peppermint and baby powder. Ray observed him quietly, not wanting to
intrude on whatever memories his friend might be reliving. 
         "Tell me about her, Benny." Requested Ray quietly, sensing Fraser
needed to talk. At first, Fraser was silent, he just continued to stare at
the cloth in his hands, until finally he spoke. 
         "I killed her." He admitted quietly. Ray stared at him shocked. 
         "What? How can you say that, Benny? Where in the hell do you get
such an idea?" 
         "She died because...." Fraser broke off and averted his eyes.
After a moment he folded the blanket and placed it carefully to the side,
the reached in and retrieved a small bag of pink candy. "Peppermint
Knobs!" he exclaimed delighted. Ray allowed him to change the subject and
stared at the foreign looking candy with pink and white stripes. 
         "What's a Peppermint Knob?" he asked curious. 
         "It's a special mint candy made by Purity." 
         "Okay, what's a Purity?" continued Ray confused and Fraser
chuckled. 
         "Purity is a factory in Newfoundland that makes a variety of
products, candies, biscuits, hard tac, things like that. Mum used to send
for products every few months." 
         "And you can only get these things in New'finland?" asked Ray. 
         "Newfoundland, Ray." Corrected Fraser automatically. "Yes, but I
believe there are some specialty stores in the larger cities that carry
their products as well." Fraser replaced the candy. "Mum used to love
peppermint." He glanced over a few other items, most of which held little
or no meaning for him, or that he had seen before, then he found an small
misshapen carving. He pulled it out and examined it. 
         "What's that?" inquired Ray. 
         "My very first attempt at whittling." Explained Fraser, as Ray
plucked it from his fingers to get a better look. 
         "What's it supposed to be?" 
         "A beaver." Replied Fraser almost proudly and Ray chuckled. 
         "Are you sure?" he teased, looking at the piece from every angle.
"Looks more like a whale crossed with a flagpole." Fraser snatched it from
him. 
         "I was only four, Ray." He insisted indignantly and Ray grinned.
"Mum knew what it was." He examined it more closely and had to agree that
Ray's description was indeed more appropriate. "At least I think she
knew." Ray couldn't help but release the laugh he had been holding. Fraser
fixed him with a scolding stare, but that only made the detective laugh
harder. Fraser shook his head, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch, as
he replaced the carving. 
         "If you're going to be mean to me, Ray, you can leave now." He
commented, half-teasing. Ray sobered, with some difficulty. 
         "I'm sorry, Benny." He offered, still grinning. "I'll be good,
promise." Fraser nodded and returned to his search. There was quite a bit
of leather working, that he remembered his Mother had hand stitched, a few
books, some photos of her as a young girl and of Fraser when he was a
baby. He pulled out a small suede pair of baby boots, he assumed were his
and a matching bonnet. Ray chuckled over those as well, though did admit
the stitch-work on them were wonderful. 
         "Mum had made everything." Informed Fraser putting them back
inside and pulling out a worn leather bound book with his Mother's name. 
         "What's that?" inquired Ray curious, as Fraser slid back the
leather tie and pulling it open. He snapped it shut quickly, surprising
Ray. "What is it?" 
         "It's...Mum's journal." Fraser almost whispered. "I hadn't known
she kept one, I never saw her writing like I did Dad." 
         "Why don' you read it?" suggested Ray, sensing perhaps it would
be good for the Mountie, but Fraser shook his head and placed it back
inside the trunk. "You read your Father's journals." 
         "That's different, Ray." Stated Fraser quietly. Most of the time
he read his Father's journals to help him solve a case, and to get to know
the man he never knew in life. His head shot up in shock, where had that
thought come from? "I..I can't invade Mum's privacy." 
         "Benny." Began Ray gently. "The reason most people write journals
is so they can leave a history if their thoughts and feelings behind,
especially to their loved ones." He watched an array of emotions pass over
his partner's face. "I think you should read it." Fraser shrugged. Maybe
later, not now, for some reason he just couldn't read it now and he
wondered why it was he could never detach himself from his Mother the way
he had everything else. 
 He glanced up at the growing darkness that was settling over the
apartment and pulled the trunk shut 
         "Let's go get something to eat, Ray." He remarked rising from his
position on the floor, working out the cramps in his legs from sitting too
long, as he also helped Vecchio to his feet. He'd had enough memories for
one day. 
         "Sure, Benny." The detective greed easily as Fraser grabbed his
hat and Diefenbaker proceeded him out the door. 

         "Benny! Benny where are you?" Benton Fraser crouched behind the
snow fort he had been building as the woman continued to call to him. She
was getting closer to his location and though his tiny hands were freezing
even with his thick leather mitts, he remained silent and still. Just a
little closer, he thought, a few more steps. He heard the soft crunch of 
mucklucks against the snow and jumped out at his prey screaming. Caroline
Fraser caught him up in her arms and fell back into the snow laughing. 
         "I won!" crowed Benton as he straddled his Mother's thin frame.
"You didn't find me before I found you!" Caroline grabbed him and pulled
him down, managing to tickle his tiny squirming body, despite the heavy
winter clothes that shielded him from the harsh cold around them. He
giggled hysterically and pleaded for her to stop, so she rose and pulled
him with her. She shaped a snowball in her small, delicate palm and threw
it at him, he reciprocated in kind, chasing her back to the log cabin that
held the warmth and comfort of home. 
         Inside the Tack room, they quickly discarded their outer clothing
and footwear and entered the inner sanctuary of the cabin. Benton could
smell roasting chicken and vegetables simmering on the wood stove in the
corner of the room, as he hurried to his small room and reached under his
single bed. He pulled out his small leather bookbag, that had been given
to him for Christmas, for he was in grade one now, and he need to have
something suitable to carry his books. Although the tiny schoolhouse only
held a handful of children, he was enjoying it, despite the fact that he
was the only Caucasian attending. A few of the children teased him for his
thick black hair, deep blue eyes and pale complexion, but he ignored them.
He received his looks from his parents and to him they were the two most
beautiful people in the world. 
         Quickly he pulled out the crepe paper creation his teacher had
helped him to construct, folded it gently up under his sweater, and then
headed back into the main room of the cabin. His Mother was stirring the
vegetables as he shyly made his way toward her, inhaling the scent of the
food and the lingering scent of peppermint. He tugged on her shirttail and
waited for her to look down at him, before presenting her with the card.
She read it and he watched tears stream down her beautiful, pale face. He
started shaking, thinking he had done something wrong, but then his Mother
was crushing him to her, thanking him over and over for the gift and
whispering how much she loved her darling Benny. 
         A feeling of pride and contentment flowed over him as his Mother
placed the card in a special place of honor atop the mantel, next to his
parent's wedding picture and his grandparent's photo. He watched her place
a small handmade doily under it, giving it an even more treasured quality.
She grabbed him up and hugged him again, holding him high so he could get
a better view of the card. He smiled at her, as she reached into her
pocket and retrieved two peppermint knobs, one for her and one for him. 

         Fraser awoke in a cold sweat, dawn was barely starting to filter
through the small windows of his apartment, as Diefenbaker awoke to glance
up at his master. Fraser was breathing as though he had been running a
marathon and he was shaking. The dream hadn't been a bad one, it was
actually one of his favorite memories, but he had not dreamed of his
mother since he was barely a teenager and that alone seemed to scare him.
He rose from his bed and walked over to pull the window farther open. 
         The cold hit him instantly, the evening air seemed to have a
cleaner scent then it did during the day in Chicago. 
         "Early bird gets the worm, Son." Greeted Robert Fraser from
behind him, and this time Fraser didn't even flinch at his Father's
unannounced visit. 
         "Morning Dad." He returned quietly, folding his arms across his
chest and leaning against the wall of the wall, as he stared out at dawn
coming over the city. "How are you?" 
         "Well, I'm dead, son." Returned Robert. "Other than that do you
mean? Fraser sighed and shook his head as his Father continued. "How are
you?" Fraser didn't answer him and he walked around to gaze over his son's
sullen face. "What's the matter now, for heaven's sake?" 
         "Nothing." Replied Fraser, glancing at him. 
         "Well, there must be something wrong, or you wouldn't be
pouting." 
         "I'm not pouting, Dad." Protested Fraser wearily. "I don't pout."

         "Looks like you're pouting." Observed Robert. 
         "Well, I'm not." 
         "Feeling sorry for yourself then." Reiterated his Father. 
         "No, Dad." 
         "Then what the hell is the matter?" 
         "I told you, nothing." 
         "Fine then," huffed Robert. "Don't tell me." Fraser remained
silent. "Well?" 
         "Well what, Dad?" 
         "What's wrong?" 
         "You just told me not to tell you." 
         "For Christ's sake, Ben, don't throw my own words up at a time
like this." Scolded his Father. "Now tell me what's wrong." 
         "Why did you sell our cabin, Dad?" Fraser asked suddenly,
watching the surprised look that registered on Robert Fraser Sr.'s face. 
         "Where the devil did that come from?" he demanded confused. 
         "Answer the question, Dad." 
          "You had to go live with your grandparents when your Mother
died." Explained Robert, a slight tone of indignation rose in him and
Fraser suspected he was trying to justify his actions.     "There was no
one else to look after you and I had to work. It was easier to just sell
the house, since neither of us would be there anyway." 
         "But you never went back." Reminded Fraser. "After.....when you
went to get our things, you never went back again. Why?" Robert Fraser
stared at him, a touch of sadness in his eyes, and a feeling of uneasiness
settled around his features. 
         "After your Mother died I..I couldn't go back, Ben." He admitted.
"Caroline was in every piece of that damned house and I couldn't bare to
return to it without her." Fraser was surprised by his father's admitted
weakness, and his face must have shown it, for his face grew angry. "For
God's sake, Son. I wasn't that much of a monster, was I? I loved your
mother, she was my life, of course it was hard to loose her." 
         "If she meant so much, why didn't you stick around more often?"
demanded Fraser angrily. "Why didn't you show her you loved her, why
didn't you show me." 
         "Your mother knew I loved her." Insisted Robert irritated. "And
you should have known as well, I'm your Father after all. I shouldn't have
had to show you." 
         "Yes, we knew." Admitted Fraser reluctantly. "But would it have
hurt you to show us a little kindness, a little affection, just so we
could be sure?" 
         "You're talking nonsense, Son." Dismissed Robert. "Besides,
what's done is done and there is nothing more can be said." 
         "Yes, you're absolutely right, Dad." Agreed Fraser grimly. When
he heard no response he glanced up and found his Father had disappeared
again. "Coward." He muttered, leaning down to ruffle Diefenbaker ears,
lovingly, the wolf having come to sit beside him. 
  

           "Hey, Benny!" called Ray as the Mountie entered the precinct.
"I was just going to come and pick you up." Fraser allowed his friend a
small smile, as he held his Stetson firmly between his fingers, his brown
jacket serge blending in more appropriately than his bright red uniform. 
         "Inspector Thatcher released me early and I thought I would save
you the trip, Ray." He explained calmly. "I was wondering if you would
care to get something to eat." 
         "Sure thing, Benny." Agreed Ray, grabbing his navy suit jacket
from the back of his chair. "But it will have to be a to-go meal because
we've got a case." 
         "Excellent, Ray." Commented Fraser as they headed downstairs.
"What is it?" Ray waited until they were outside and next to the Rivera
before speaking again. 
         "A homicide over by the docks." Informed Vecchio as they climbed
inside the vehicle. "Hey, where's Dief?" 
         "He's at the vet, Ray." Replied Fraser exasperated. "I had the
devils time getting him there this morning, I'd like to pick him up if you
don't mind." 
         "No problem, Benny. Is he alright?" 
         "Yes, just a yearly check up and shots, though I am quite sure he
will be pleading for sympathy once we do pick him up, so don't let him
sway you, Ray. It's all an act I assure you." Ray chuckled, knowing the
wolf's flare for dramatics when it might get him some extra sweets out of
pity. 
         They arrived at the docks a short time later, there was already a
forensics team and photographer going over the scene. Fraser instructed
Diefenbaker to stay in the car, which he was happy to do as it added to
his plea for sympathy, and followed Ray over toward the sheet-covered
body. A young officer met up with them. 
         "What's the scoop?" demanded Vecchio, glancing around at the
scene. 
         "Young black woman, mid twenties, strangled and stripped naked,
then dumped here. So far doesn't look like there is any evidence
connecting the possible killer; nothing under the nails or hair, no
identifying marks and doesn't look like he did anything else but strangle
her. Coroner will be able to tell us more." Ray nodded and he and Fraser
moved closer to the body. Fraser glanced at the officer next to it. 
         "May I?" he inquired and the man nodded, so Fraser pulled back
the sheet and glanced over the woman's features. There was a thin line
around her neck, perhaps the weapon had been a tight cord or wire, their
were specific looking marks all along the base line, small round indents
that looked vaguely familiar but he couldn't place them as yet. The
woman's face seemed to have been frozen in an expression of shock, rather
than fear. Fraser burrowed a thin white rubber glove from the forensics
person beside him and touched it to the woman's face, her cheeks, her lips
and her eyelids, then examined the fingers of the gloves thoughtfully.
"Hmmm." 
         "What is it, Benny?" asked Ray, leaning over to get a better
look. Fraser shook his head and pulled off the glove, then pulled the
sheet back over her face. 
         "It's probably nothing, Ray." He deterred as he straightened and
turned to the young officer who had first met them. "When was she found?" 
         "Early this morning." He told them. "A dock worker found her." 
        "Estimated time of death?" he asked the woman Paleontologist. 
         "I would say around midnight last night, but I'd have to do an
autopsy to be sure." Fraser nodded as Ray finished up with some other
questions. He asked them to keep him informed and headed back to the car.
Once back inside the vehicle he turned to Fraser. 
         "Wanna tell me what you found out?" he asked quietly. 
         "As I said, it's probably nothing, Ray." 
         "Fraser." 
         "Well, I noticed that her make-up was relatively fresh, Ray." 
         "What?" exclaimed Ray. "That was the big hmm thing, the chick did
a good job on her makeup?" 
         "You don't understand, Ray." Sighed Fraser calmly. "It wasn't
that she wore it well it was fresh. You see most makeup's seem to wear off
during the course of an evening, especially foundations, lipsticks and
shadows,  and it takes time for the make-up itself to soak into the skin
where it won't just rub off, but rather dissolves into the skin beneath
it. The victim's make up came off on my glove, indicating that it was
still freshly applied and had not yet had the chance to settle into her
skin." 
         "And why is a woman who was supposedly killed last night, dumped
here, then found this morning, doin' with fresh makeup on? It should have
worn off or down or whatever." 
         "Exactly, Ray." Confirmed Fraser as they drove away from the
docks. "So, wether the estimated time of death is wrong, the time she was
found is wrong, or the killer did return to reapply the woman's makeup." 
         "But why would he do that?" 
         "That's a very good question Ray, but I don't know. It isn't very
logical, the chances of being discovered were too high, and the woman was
dead, so what would be the purpose of making her face look better?" Fraser
paused a moment. "I also noticed the marks around her neck and they looked
like a type of bead, perhaps a woman's necklace." 
         "So you think our killer's a woman?" 
         "Or a man dressed as a woman." Suggested Fraser. "As soon as we
can get the woman's identified we should perhaps check out the place she
works, he friends and so forth." Ray nodded, that was standard procedure
in any investigation. 

         They discovered the woman's name was Teresa Lawson, a young
medical student from the local college, she lived alone and seemed to have
no family to speak of. She worked at a 911 operator in the evenings and
went to school during the day, but there was no one who could tell Ray
much about her. She had been quiet and did her job, was always on time and
never complained or lost her cool during a call. 
         Fraser suggested they retrieve some of her last calls, made the
nights before she was murdered, then took them to the station so he and
Ray could listen to them. They were standard calls, a few panicked people
calling in about their son choking or that their friend had been shot.
Teresa talked them through the situation, the model of calm and control. 
         "She's good." Remarked Ray, switching off the last tape. "She
knew her job well, but there doesn't seem to be anything here that would
indicate she was being threatened or even that she ticked someone off; if
anything she saved lives and the callers seemed quite grateful." 
         "I agree, Ray." Fraser concurred. "Perhaps her killer didn't know
her through work." 
         "Let's try the school again." Suggested Ray, placing the tapes
back in their box, so he could return them later. They opened the door to
the interview room and headed for Ray's desk, surprised to find Francesca
waiting for them. Ray gave her a look that stormed of aggravation. "What
are you doin' here, Frannie?" 
         "I came to speak with Fraser." She explained, tossing her brother
a look of disdain, then smiling brightly at the Mountie. 
         "How may I help you, Francesca?" he offered politely, as she
wound her arm through his. 
         "This is kinda private, Frase." She shot her brother another
indignant look. 
         "Talk to him here or not at all." Instructed Ray firmly, as he
put the tapes on his desk and reached across to answer his phone that was
now ringing. Francesca glared at him and started to pull Fraser further
away, only to have her brother catch her by the collar of her blouse and
pull her back. "I said here, Frannie." He reminded, then spoke to the
caller. Francesca shook his hand off of her and Fraser felt sorry for her,
s he gently unfolded their arms and put some distance between them. 
         "It's alright, Ray." He assured calmly, knowing that his partner
was simply trying to protect him from his sister's advances. He guided
Francesca a short distance away, but where Ray could still see them so his
Partner wouldn't get upset.  Francesca smiled gratefully at him. 
         "Thanks Frase." She offered, reaching up to straighten her
already snug blouse. "He's so suspicious, what's he think I'm going to do
to you anyway?" Fraser bit his lip. 
         "I'm sure I don't know, Francesca." He lied. "How can I help
you?" Her face became animated with secrecy. 
 "Well, I just wanted to ask you to dinner tonight." He glanced back at
her brother who was still speaking on the phone. "Tony, Marie and the kids
are going to visit Tont's folks, but ma will be there and I'm cooking your
favorite guspatcho" She turned her attention back to Fraser. " 
        "Thank you kindly, Francesca." offered Fraser politely,. "But I am
afraid Ray and I will be working on a case tonight." 
        "You can't take a couple of hours off to eat?" she pouted and
Fraser had to steel himself from dropping a kiss on her lips, she looked
absolutely adorable when she did that, he wondered if she knew. 
        "May we do it another time?" he asked gently and she sighed,
shooting Ray a look that could kill. 
        "My brother's a slave driver." she muttered peturbed, then she
suddenly reached up and kissed Fraser quickly on the cheek. "Later then,
Frase." she promised watching the Mountie blush and lower his eyes as Ray
approached them. 
         "Let's go, Benny." He encouraged, "They found another body." He
glanced at his sister suspiciously. "You go home." Francesca stuck her
tongue out at him and Fraser hid his smile. 
        "Francesca." He offered politely, before donning his hat and
following Ray out. 

         There were now two women dead, with the exact same MO, only this
woman was Caucasian and a freshman in college. Also a medical student at
the same university, which tied them together, both studying paleontology,
so that is where they decide to concentrate their search for a killer.
They questioned students that were in the same classes, professors that
the two women shared and reviewed their personal effects. One stumbling
block they continued to encounter was a Doctor Warwick that taught one of
their classes, this gentleman refused to say much to them, insisting he
was too busy and had papers to grade. 
         Getting no where, they decided that they needed someone inside
the college, but it had to be someone who could grasp the heavy medical
terminology easily and appear as ambitious and intelligent as the two
victims had, which seemed to be their mutual qualities. Both A students,
they were increasingly praised for their hard work by everyone, except Dr.
Warwick. Fraser opted to dawn a dress and wig once more, for both his 
incredible intelligence and recall and, according to Elaine,  he looked
good in a dress. 
          They arranged for fake school records to be entered for Fraser's
file, and of course the dean was aware of the undercover Canadian. In the
classes, Fraser was infallible in his answers, especially in Warwick's
class, which proved to annoy the professor. Ever polite and sweet natured,
Fraser found the other students flock to him, which seemed only to
increase Warwick's irritation.  Fraser made sure to request extra credit
assignments from him, and made a point of voicing his opinions and
ambition whenever he knew the professor was near. 
         Finally, after only three days at the college, Fraser met Ray and
discussed what he had learned. He sensed that Warwick was ready to make
his move and he and Ray devised a plan that would send the man over the
edge. At eleven the following evening, Fraser left the library, where he
was supposedly studying for an upcoming exam, he had suspected he was
being watched from the moment he had left the library, but decided to play
it out, knowing he was wired and that Ray was near by. His heals sounded
loud on the hard concrete steps, as he descended from the large stone
library. He heard someone behind him, their pace quickening to catch up.
When he sensed them directly behind him he suddenly turned and stared at
the startled face of a young man from his class. 
         "Andrew?' he questioned surprised, recognizing him as a student
from Fraser's class as well as someone they had questioned in their
earlier investigation. Fraser wondered if the bright youth recognized him.
"What are you doing following me?" The young man blushed and grinned
sheepishly. 
         "I didn't mean to scare you, Miss. Fraser." He offered quickly.
"I was, well, I just wanted to ..well to ask if you might maybe consider
having coffee with me or something sometime." Ray Vecchio was laughing his
ass off in his car, as he listened to the young man hitting on his
partner. 
         "Aren't I a little old for you, Andrew?" Fraser suggested gently,
hearing his partner's laughter in his hidden earpiece. 
         "Nah, you're cool." Assured Andrew still grinning. "I mean I
think it's great that an older lady like you came back to finish school.
I..I think you're real pretty, Miss. Fraser and real smart too.." Fraser
smiled sympathetically. 
         "I'm afraid I am already involved with someone." He remarked. "A
much, much older man and his name is Ray." That shut Vecchio up, he
noticed. "But I'm sure you'll find a nice girl your own age very soon,
Andrew." He smiled secretly. "In fact, I believe Mary Johnson finds you
quite attractive." 
        "Really?" the youth asked brightening an Fraser nodded in
confirmation. "Gee, Mary is pretty cool. Umm, but maybe we could still get
together, y'know as friends or something?" 
         "That would be very nice, Andrew." Replied Fraser, knowing he
would probably never see the boy again after tonight. "But I'm afraid my
Ray is the jealous type and wouldn't like me around any other men, he's
very possessive, you see." Andrew nodded. 
         "Well, I can understand that, Miss. Fraser." He accepted. "I
would be to." 
         "Thank you, Andrew, now if you will excuse me I really must go."
The boy nodded and jogged back in the other direction. Ray waited until
Fraser had started walking again, before he spoke into the mike. 
         "Yer gonna pay for that one, Benny." He chuckled. "Yer gonna burn
in hell fer leading that poor kid on." 
         "Jealous are you, Ray?' asked Fraser and heard Vecchio's gasp at
his audacity. 
         "That ain't funny, Benny." He hissed, he should know better than
to get into a battle of wits with the Canadian. 
         "Hmmm." Was all Fraser said as he moved further into the darkened
parking lot, where Ray's car was parked. His ears picked up another set of
footsteps behind him. "I think the eagle has landed, Ray." 
         "On my way, Benny." Assured Ray, dropping the small radio in his
pocket and grabbing his gun from its place on the seat. He quietly got out
of the car, and headed up toward where he knew Fraser would be, though he
couldn't yet see the Mountie and saw a shadow. He could no longer hear the
Canadian in his ear piece and he broke into a run, panic setting in as he
called out to his partner name into the mike that connected them. The
scene he came upon both frightened and angered him. Another woman, tall
with long dark hair, stood over Fraser, who had been driven to his knees
from the sudden lack of oxygen his attacker was driving from him with a
long string of beads that wrapped around the Mounties's throat. Ray
leveled his gun at the perpetrator. 
         "Freeze! Chicago PD!" The woman immediately released Fraser and
darted away. Ray ran over to his fallen comrade, who was gasping in the
precious air that had been denied him. 
         "Go, Ray." He managed to croak. "I'll be okay." Ray took off
after the suspect, back toward the library, then saw a shadow duck down
the alley, so he turned left and continued the pursuit. The suspect tried
to open the back door of the library and Fraser stepped out of it. 
        The woman turned to run back the other way, But Ray had already
taken aim as Fraser stepped up behind. Seeing that there was no
alternative route of escape, she listened when Ray ordered her to get on
her knees and put her hands above her head. Once Ray had cuffed her, Ray
pulled off the suspect's wig and was surprised to find young Andrew,
instead of the older Dr. Warwick. 
         "Andrew?" he asked shocked, as the young man shook his head
miserably. 
         "Why didn't you let me kill her?" he moaned dejectedly. "She'll
take it away from me, just like the others. It's not fair! It's not fair!"

         "Take what from you?" Ray asked confused, as he pulled the man to
his feet. 
         "His career I suspect." Remarked Fraser, removing his own wig and
wiping off some of the make up he wore with his handkerchief, causing
Andrew to stare at him with disdain. 
         "You set me up!" he screamed. "You're not a woman!" 
         "Hate to break it to you pal," remarked Ray as they headed back
to Ray's vehicle. "But neither are you." 
         They headed back to the station and booked the disturbed young
man. Fraser had changed back into his normal off duty clothes, as he did
not have his uniform at the station. Elaine took him inside the kitchen
and helped him remove his makeup with a jar of cold cream she had brought.
She smiled up at him as she wiped his face clean. 
        "May I ask you a question, Fraser?" she inquired. 
        "Certainly, Elaine." replied Fraser as he rinsed his face with
water from the sink, running it lightly ovver his haaier to reduce the
stifness the wig had caused. 
        "You don't...um..enjoy this sort of thing do you?" 
        "What sort of thing, Elaine?" 
        "You know, dressing up in woman's clothes." Fraser smiled and
shook his head. 
        "I wouldn't say I enjoy it, Elaine." he admitted combing his hair
back and pulling on his blue flannel shirt over his white tee. "But there
is a certain appreciation for experiencing life as a woman, regardless of
the time spent or the reason for doing it." 
        "You respect women a lot, do't you, Benton?" she observed softly. 
        "They deserve to be respected." he concluded, buttoning his shirt
and tucking the tail ends inside the waist band of his jeans, without
undoing the keans themselves, since Elaine was still preasant. 
        "Has there ever been a woman you loved and respected more than
anything?" she asked almost hopefully and Fraser nodded as they moved out
into the main squadroom. 
        "Of course." he replied. 
        "Who was that?" 
        "My Mother." Elaine lowered her eyes, she couldn't condem him for
that. 
        "Anyone else?" she pressed quietly as they approached the
inteerview rom that Ray was using with Andrew. 
        "Yes." agreed Fraser as he put his hand on the doorknob, only to
have Elaine place her hand over his to stop him from going in just yet. 
        "Anyone I know?" she insuinuated and Fraser lowered his eye as he
once again felt the heat in his cheeks. 
        "Yes, Elaine." he admitted quietly. "You know her quite well."
Elaine felt her heart almost burst from her chest. Was he saying what she
thought he was saying? Before she could question hi further, however, the
door opened and Ray stood there staring at them. 
        "Comin' Benny?" Fraser nodded and quickly steped inside. 
        "Certainly, Ray." he agreed. Ray closed the door, aftr a quick nod
to Elaine and continued grilling their suspect. Although Andrew as much as
confessed, they wanted to get some more information out of him before he
lawyered. They learned that Andrew despised all women doctors, simply
because he felt as they were being in a minority, they would be chosen
over him because he was a man. His mother had also been a doctor and he
had grown up pretty much in his father's care, a man who liked to molest
his three sons and dress them in woman's clothes. He knew only the
brightest and most determined women made it as Doctors, and so it was his
up to him to take them out of the running. He dressed as a woman when he
killed them because he felt it would be more terrifying for them to have
one of their own attack. 
         "Sick bastard." Muttered Ray as they left Andrew to the care of
the state's attorney, who had joined them. "One thing bothers me though,
why did he bother with the makeup on the dead women?" 
         "Quite simple, Ray." Replied Fraser as they collected their
belongings from Vecchio's desk and Vecchio sighed. What was simple for
Fraser was mind boggling to everyone else. They collected their things and
headed out of the station as Fraser continued.  "It was his final revenge
to paint them up like that to prove they were women, to make sure they
were killed because they were female. The same reason he used a beaded
necklace, because it was using something of theirs against them." Ray
shook his head, as they climbed into the Rivera. 
        "Like I said, sick bastard." He remarked grimly. "How come he
managed to get over you though, Benny?" 
         "I had heard the footsteps, Ray." He explained. "And I informed
you our prey might be near, but when I turned I saw Warwick heading toward
his car. I was, well surprised, but before I could say anything to you,
Andrew had jumped me from behind." 
         "So I saved yer butt, then, hey Benny?" 
         "Yes, Ray." Replied Fraser entirely too easily for Ray's liking.
"And I am grateful." 
         "But..." continued Ray warily. knowing something else was coming.

         "Well, if you hadn't been so unprofessional my attention would
have never been drawn away from my objective." 
         "What?!" exclaimed Ray in disbelief. "What do you mean
unprofessional? I was no such thing!" 
         "Well, you were laughing at my predicament with Andrew, Ray."
reminded Fraser calmly. "And if you had been a gentleman you would have
treated me with more respect." 
        "Ah, com'on Benny!" laughed Ray. "Why do I gotta be a gentleman to
you, you ain't a real woman." 
         "That's entirely besides the point, Ray." Insisted Fraser. "If it
had been Elaine, or one of the other women officers, you would have been
more protective of my position; if he had been hitting on one of them you
would not have been laughing." 
         "Benny, you were a guy dressed like a girl being hit on by
another guy!" stated Ray. "Hell, you're a babe magnet no matter what you
wear I think that's hilarious." 
         "That's very rude, Ray." 
         "You're so sensitive." Ray knew that Fraser was teasing him, they
had played this game before. He started the engine and pulled away from
the curb. 
  

         He was cold and hungry and was waiting for something, or someone,
to come and get him. His gaze traveled through the small crack in the
heavy barn door that allowed him to peer through the window of a nearby
house. He saw a woman and the shadow of a man, the woman had her back to
him and he couldn't see her face, the man's features were shadowed by the
kerosene lamp that sit behind him. For some reason the woman was
important, he didn't understand why, but Fraser wanted to run to her, to
call out to her, to warn her, but he was afraid and so he remained hidden
in the loft of the old barn, silent and still. He heard a loud noise that
thundered in his ears and saw the woman drop. 
         Fraser awoke once again shaking. He glanced at his watch and
sighed in frustration, he had only been asleep for about twenty minutes,
despite how long the dream seemed. Already his conscious thoughts seemed
to be scattering the details and soon e could only remember how it had
scared him. He adjusted his position by turning on his side and closed his
eyes again, he had to get some sleep. After many long minutes, after
trying various methods to slow his breathing and fall back to sleep, he
threw the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Diefenbaker whined at him, wondering why his own sleep was being
disturbed, then rose to circle his spot at the foot of the bed a few
times, before settling back into the exact same position and falling back
to sleep. 
         Fraser rose from the bed and walked to the sink to splash his
warm face with cool water, the winter air from outside drifted in through
the partially opened window and helped cool the rest of him. He closed his
eyes for a moment, he was so tired. He hadn't been able to get a full
night sleep in almost three weeks and it was starting to take its toll on
his body. He had become sluggish and unable to concentrate on the simplest
things. At least it had finally started to turn cool the past couple of
weeks that helped clear his mind much better than when he was battling the
humid heat of Chicago in the summer. 
         He became aware of a particular scent and glanced toward his
Mother's hope chest, peppermint again. He was smelling it a lot more often
these days and he didn't understand if it was because of the memories the
trunk had released inside of him or if it was his imagined wishful
thinking to have his mother nearby. He approached the chest and settled
beside it, popping the lock and puling up the lid. He ran his hands over
the few items he had already examined, then his hand rested on Caroline's
journal. Ray had said he should read it and Fraser didn't understand why
he was so afraid to do so. Again the soft sweet smell of her favorite
candy assailed his senses, of course Fraser attributed it to the contents
of the trunk. Finally, with a trembling hand and a shaky breath he pulled
the leather book out, released the strap and opened it to the first entry,
which was dated March 23 1966. 
         'Bob has been gone almost two months now and I can't help feeling
something is wrong. I have seen evidence of someone outside the cabin at
least twice in the last week and I am worried that we may be in danger.
God I hate it when Bob is gone so long, but at least I have my darling
Benny with me, he is my joy and comfort. He is getting so very big and his
artistic skills are simply amazing. I showed one of his drawings to Bob
the last time he was home and he simply gushed about the wonderful job his
son had done. I told him he needed to tell Benny that, to give him some
praise, but Bob refused as always. Men don't talk about that sort of thing
Caroline, he would say and I would have to repress the urge to hit him.
Benny isn't a man yet, he's a boy who needs his father's love, but I can't
seem to get that through to Bob. As much as I love him, I sometimes wonder
if I had married Buck instead if he might not have made a better Father to
our son, but then, I may not have had Benny without Bob. He has so much of
his Father in him that it scares me. I see him trying to control his
emotions, watch him steel himself against his Father's neglect and
rebuttals or emotional outburst, when I really want him to just scream and
cry and throw tantrums, like babies do. Benny idolizes Bob, I see it in
his eyes and I can't help admit I am jealous. I lavish him with love, and
occasionally I can wrestle a smile or a hug from him. Bob ignores him and
he adores the man.' 
         Fraser closed the book, an odd numbness overtaking him. He had
known his Mother had not always been happy with his Father, she was not
the type to hide her emotions when hurt or angry, but he never knew she
was jealous of what he felt for his Father. He loved his Mother just as
much, didn't he? The fact that he now questioned this rocked him. Had he
preferred his Father to his Mother as a child, despite their differences
in their treatment of him? 
         He was startled as a knock sounded at his door and he glanced up
and saw the early morning's sunshine that now flooded his apartment. It
was morning and he wasn't even dressed. He rose quickly and pulled on his
jeans at least, over his boxers, then went to open the door and allow his
partner inside. Ray smiled at him. 
         "Mornin' Benny." He greeted but his smile faded as he observed
the haggard look on Fraser's face. "You like hell." He commented
concerned, as he stepped inside the small-impoverished apartment and
absently gave Diefenbaker, who finally hopped off the bed to greet him, a
quick ruffle behind the ears. 
         "I haven't been sleeping well, Ray." Fraser admitted quietly, as
he put the kettle on to boil. "Give me just a moment and I'll be ready." 
         "What's wrong, Fraser? Something on your mind?" Fraser shrugged
and walked over to his closet to remove his brown tunic as Ray pulled down
the only two cups from the cupboard and placed a tea bag in each. Fraser
hadn't even inquired if Vecchio wanted tea, a surprising breech of edict
for the usually impeccably mannered Canadian, which only proved that
something was terribly wrong. 
         "I don't know, Ray." Fraser sighed, leaning against the closet
wearily, Ray had never seen his partner so tired. 
         "When was the last time you slept, Benny?" Ray asked him
concerned. 
         "I've been getting couple of hours here and there, but nothing
solid for a couple of weeks now." Stated Fraser as the kettle whistled and
Ray poured the steaming liquid into the cups, while Fraser pulled on his
uniform.  Ray fixed their tea, knowing how Fraser preferred his, then
adding five sugars and a generous helping of milk to his own cup; the
herbal tea not a general favorite of his but he would share a cup with
Fraser occasionally. Ray settled at the table  and waited for Fraser to
sit opposite him and waited for the Mountie to continue, which he did a
moment later. "Every time I try to sleep, the moment I doze off I'm
besotted by these terrible dreams Ray though I can never remember what
they are, and when I wake up I had actually only been asleep a few minutes
each time." 
         "What do you think might be causing them?" asked Ray, taking a
sip of his tea and making a face, it tasted like very sweet hay stalks. 
         "I've thought about that." Admitted Fraser sipping his own tea,
with obviously more enjoyment. "I have had dreams before of course,
nightmares even." Especially after loosing his Father and when Victoria
left and his partner had shot him in the back. "But I could always
remember them and could attribute them to something, but these dreams
are..." he paused searching for the right word and Ray thought he saw a
trace of fear flash across the usually passive face of his friend. "These
are very different, Ray. I can't ever remember them, but I wake up and I
feel...terrified for an instant and then it's gone." 
         "You need to get some sleep, Benny." Ray stated. "Maybe if you
could stay asleep longer then you would remember what the dreams are." 
         "But I can't stay asleep, Ray." Insisted Fraser. "I have tried
every possible method I know to induce a longer sleep, but it's the same
each time, asleep for just a few minutes and each time I have those dreams
that I can't remember." 
         "What about sleeping pills?" suggested Ray quietly. "I know you
don't like the idea of chemical...." 
         "No, Ray." Refused Fraser, who didn't even like to take aspirin
for a headache. "My body isn't used to those type of stimulants and it may
have an adverse effect." He remembered his time in the hospital after he'd
been shot in the back, they had given him a standard painkiller, but it
had left him feeling dopes up and blurry eyed for days afterwards. 
         "I've got a friend you could talk to." Offered Ray. "She...she
helped me with...after my divorce." 
        "A psychiatrist Ray?' 
         "Yah, but if that freaks you out I understand, I mean I didn't
want to go to her either at first, but she was pretty good." 
         "That would be fine, Ray." Agreed Fraser almost relieved. "Could
you make me an appointment with her?" Ray smiled, glad for once that he
was able to help his partner, instead of Fraser helping him out, which was
usually the case. 
         "Sure, Benny." He assured. "I'll call her right now." He pulled
out his cell phone. 
         "You don't have to do it today, Ray." Protested Fraser, sounding
suddenly hesitant. 
         "The sooner the better, Fraser." Ray reminded and dialed the
number. He spoke to her only briefly, Fraser could tell they shared a kind
of camaraderie, then Ray hung up." She had two cancellations today and she
can see you in thirty minutes." 
         "So soon?' asked Fraser, rising to his feet suddenly. "But I have
to go to work and..." 
         "Call the dragon lady and tell her you have an appointment." 
         "Ray, I can't!" exclaimed Fraser aghast. Without the proper
notice and channels, to just take the time off? He'd had to do that I a
few times in the past and Inspector Thatcher had been less than thrilled.
He'd already used some of his vacation time to work on the undercover case
at the college, he didn't think Thatcher would approve more time off so
soon." Ray shook his head as he rose and offered the phone to Fraser. 
         "You've got sick time, I'm sure" Ray insisted, knowing the
Mountie was never sick.      "Take a sick day." 
         "I..I don't think Inspector Thatcher..." began Fraser, but Ray
cut him off. 
         "Look, Fraser. You need sleep and in order to get that you have
to figure out what is wrong. To do that you need to talk to Betty, now
call Thatcher and take a sick day or I'll call and tell her myself."
Fraser gazed at his partner thoughtfully, knowing his friend. Ray rarely
got fired up about something, but when he did he remained stubborn until
he got his way, though usually Fraser could cajole him, even manipulate
him into changing his perspective most of the time, he knew his partner
well enough to know Ray would not be turned on this issue. He reached for
the phone. 

         "It's nice to meet you Constable Fraser." Greeted the tiny, slim
brunette that stood and extended her hand as Ray and Fraser entered the
comfortably spacious office. Fraser determined that she couldn't be more
than five foot, which made himself and Ray practically towered over her,
but she had a kind face that seemed only enhanced by the dark round
glasses she wore. Fraser shook her hand politely, noticing how her tiny
palm was practically swallowed up by his larger one. "Ray has told me a
lot about you, he thinks the world of you I'm afraid." The idea that Ray
spoke so highly of him to someone whom Ray obviously considered a close
friend both embarrassed and touched Fraser. 
         "It's a pleasure to meet you Miss. Chandler." He offered quietly,
wishing suddenly that he had hadn't changed, as Ray had suggested, into
his street clothes for the meeting, he felt less vulnerable in his
uniform. 
         "Call me Betty." She encouraged as Ray smiled and offered her an
affectionate greeting kiss. "Hi, Ray." 
         "Hey, Betty." He smiled. "Be gentle with him, it's his first
time." Fraser blushed at his partner's teasing, but Betty only laughed.
"I'll wait outside." 
         "No!" refused Fraser suddenly and Ray paused at the door to look
back surprised. Fraser blushed again and lowered his eyes to the Stetson
that was gripped firmly between his nervous fingers. "I..I'd like you to
stay, please Ray." Ray witnessed the vulnerable and surprising fear in his
friend's eyes, then he turned to Betty and received her approval. 
         "Sure, Benny." He agreed, easily as he closed the door and walked
over to stand next to Fraser. Fraser glanced at the  tasteful, floral
three piece chair and love seat in the center of the room by the large
window, which offered a spectacular view, the small desk and computer over
in one corner, another sitting area, with high back leather chairs and
matching chaise, closer to that and the bright, airy wallpaper done in
gold's and blues that adorned the walls. It didn't look like a Doctor's
office, he thought absently. 
         "Which area would you prefer, Benton?" Betty was asking him and
he focused his attention on her. "Is it alright if I call you that?" He
nodded, then realized she was speaking of the two sitting areas. "That one
over there is my somber, no nonsense forum." She indicated the one closest
to the desk. "This one is the cheerful one, more popular by far, but some
people just can't get into the spirit of seeing a shrink unless they're
surrounded by leather and foreboding lighting." Fraser smiled, he liked
this woman, and he could see why Ray recommended her. 
        "Here is fine." He replied moving toward the first set, waiting
until she had settled opposite him in the deep easy chair to take his
place on the loveseat. Ray sat next to him, but far enough away that he
wouldn't seem as much a part of the session. 
         "Now," began Betty seriously. "Ray tells me you've been having
terrible dreams that are keeping you awake, Benton." 
         "I don't know if they are really terrible or not, I've no idea
what they are, really." Admitted Fraser reluctantly. 
         "Well, is it your goal to simply remember the dreams, or to just
get some sleep?" 
 she asked. "Because if sleep is all you need I can offer you medication
or enter a post hypnotic suggestion that will help keep you asleep." 
         "Fraser doesn't touch any kind of drugs, Betty.' offered Ray
quietly and she nodded. 
         "Alright then,' she accepted easily. 'Would you like to try
hypnosis then, perhaps while you are under you can remember the dreams
themselves." 
         "I'm only asleep for a few minutes," stated Fraser. "But the
dreams seem longer, though I can't remember them. I believe if I could
just remember the dreams I could analyze them." Betty nodded and
instructed him to get comfortable, noticing his rigid posture. 
         "I'm quite comfortable, thank you kindly." Assured Fraser and
Betty exchanged a questioning look with Ray, whose own look told her to
let it go; he rarely saw the Mountie in anything but a rigid posture. 
         "Okay." She allowed. "I'm going to put you to sleep, Benton, but
since we don't know what these dreams are yet, if they become too
frightening for you I want you to say the word..." she thought for a
moment. "Horse." She watched a small smile pull at the corners of the
Canadian's mouth and he nodded, as she turned to Ray. "Now you have to
remain absolutely silent, Ray. We can't interfere in anyway with what we
might see," The detective nodded and she started speaking quietly to
Fraser, her tone mellowing, his eyes growing heavy as she wound for him
the spell that would put him to sleep. His head dipped and his eyes closed
as his breathing slowed. Betty had Ray help her to lay the Canadian back
on the sofa, pulling his legs up so he could stretch out, he had not
moved, but already Ray could see the tell tale sign of rem-sleep darting
across his eyelids. 
  

         The shadowed man strolled from the house, a long, thick looking
instrument in his hand, a bag over the opposite shoulder. He was whistling
a tune Fraser didn't recognize, as he slipped on the runners of his sled
and he and his dogs headed across the blinding snow, leaving a powdered
flurry behind them. 
         Fraser finally climbed down from his hiding place and ran toward
the house. When he got inside he hurried across toward the window that had
been his view port. He saw her body laying there, saw the dark liquid that
was slowly crawling across the floor beside her, her face was turned away
from him, as she was laying on her side. His head tilted curiously,
wondering why she would sleep on the floor so early in the day, when there
was a perfectly good bed just a few feet away from her. The air was
scented with a sweet smell, one that was both familiar and unrecognizable
to him. Another smell soon prevailed over the first, a distasteful putrid
smell and as he felt a wetness between his legs; he  realized he had wet
himself. He approached the woman, coming to kneel beside her, unaware of
the dark red liquid that spoiled his jeans as he sit beside her. 
         A shadow approached him and he didn't have time to react as
something was coiled around his throat. He gasped, fighting for breath,
but his assailant just puled harder and he heard a hysterical laugh
echoing through the cabin and he realized it was his voice. Ray! Ray help
me! He detected the scent of Channel and his head was tilting further back
the tighter there cord gripped around his neck and he saw the flash of
dark hair, rose lips and dangling gold earrings. Victoria! Ray! Help me!
She's come back Ray, don't let her take me. 
        Somewhere, in the recess of his mind he remembered a word, a word
that would put an end to the nightmare, a word that would end his
suffering and stop his screaming. He spoke the word and a moment later he
found himself staring up at two very concerned faces. 
         "R..Ray?' he asked, his eyes weren't properly focused but he
suspected that his partner was one of the people that hovered over him, 
         "I'm here, Benny." Ray Vecchio assured gently, though even in his
dazed state Fraser could hear the distress in the Italian's voice. Fraser
started to sit up, with Ray's help, as he realized he was lying down, and
his hand rose to brush across his cheek, noticing that his face was quite
wet. Betty waited until he was fully alert, then asked him about the dream
and he told her what he remembered, which was really only scattered images
now. 
         "There was a man and I was hiding from him I think. It was at the
cabin in Fort Nelson." He took a deep breath, willing himself to remember.
"There was...I think there was a woman on the floor. She was lying on her
side, away from me and I..I think she was dead." He glanced at Ray, who
was watching him intently. Dear Ray, his friend, who looked so worried
about him, who probably suspected what Fraser did; that he was losing his
mind. "I was being strangled by Victoria and calling for you, Ray." Ray
nodded, he had heard his partner's terrified screams and Betty had not
allowed him to wake the Canadian, to rescue his friend from the nightmare.
So he was forced to watch helplessly as Fraser gasped for breath and cried
out for him, watched the horror that passed over his face and the manic
laughter that had tore from his throat, unable to do anything to help.
When Fraser had finally said the word 'horse' he had been so relieved he'd
felt his entire body deflate from the tension it had been straining
against, as Betty pulled him out of the hypnotic sleep quickly. 
         "Was it maybe an old case, Benny?" suggested Ray, the idea that
Fraser had seen a woman murdered and not remembered it was strange indeed.

         "I..I don't think so, Ray." He denied. "My memories as an officer
are all very clear." 
         "Tell me what you think it was, Benton." Requested Betty. 
         "I..I don't know." Admitted Fraser frustrated. 
         "Well, you did have a close call with strangulation just a few
weeks ago, Fraser." Reminded Ray suddenly. "With Andrew Keller and he had
dressed like a woman so maybe that's why your assailant in the dream was a
woman." 
         "But why Victoria, Ray?" inquired Fraser confused and Ray shot
him an exasperated look. 
         "Do you really have to ask?" he replied, remembering what the
woman had put his partner through. Fraser shook his head. 
         "I haven't dreamed of her in months." Stated Fraser, his voice
sounding calmer and more it's usual passive tone, the more he talked, and
Ray suspected the Mountie was subconsciously shutting down and putting up
the barriers that so often seemed to protect him form emotional harm.
"Perhaps it is as you said and it's just remnants of that case." 
         "Benny I didn't mean to just forget about it." Insisted Ray
restrained. "That's just one possibility. We have to figure this out." It
was a lost cause, Fraser had already dismissed the event and was standing,
ready to go. Ray and Betty rose with him. 
         "Thank you kindly for your assistance." He offered the
Psychiatrist. "I believe now that I understand the dreams they won't
bother me as much." 
         "As Ray said, Benton." Began Betty, seeing the worried look on
Vecchio's face. "That is only one possibility. I think we need to explore
this more and.." Ray was shocked when Fraser, his impeccably polite
partner, actually interrupted the woman. 
         "If I have any further problems I will contact you." He assured
offering his hand. Betty exchanged a quick glance with the detective than
shook Fraser's hand resigned. 
         "I'll meet you outside in a minute, Fraser." Informed Ray
quietly. "I need to talk to Betty real quick." Fraser nodded calmly. 
         "Certainly, Ray." He agreed amiably as he placed his Stetson on
his head and offered a sincere farewell to the Doctor. Once the door was
closed, Betty immediately placed a soothing hand on Ray's arm, sensing the
sometimes volatile Italian was ready to explode. 
         "He's lying!" he finally exclaimed throwing his hands out
expressively. "He's not telling us everything, he can't be. I can't
believe he's having nightmares over this last case, we've been through
much worse cases and he has never had nightmares about them." 
         "How do you know that for sure, Ray?" inquired Betty gently.
"Would he have told you if he had?" Ray paused and lowered his head
defeated. The truth was Fraser rarely told him when something bothered
him, unless Ray literally dragged it out of him, and that hurt. He was
Benny's friend, probably the closest person to the Mountie, yet Fraser
still held so much back from him. 
         "I don't." he admitted quietly, his sudden anger deflating like a
slow leaking balloon, his posture relaxed and his flashing eyes calmed. He
ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I don't know, Betty. Sometimes he
scares me. He keeps so much to himself, maybe it's all staring to
backfire, maybe he's ready to break." 
        "Do you think that's what's happening?" she asked and he glared at
her. 
        "Don't use the psyche routine on me, Betts," he warned. "If I knew
what was going on I wouldn't have brought him here." 
         "Maybe he just needs a rest, a vacation." She suggested. 
         "Ha!" barked Ray wryly. "You'd have a better chance of getting'
Nixon re-elected to the presidency." Betty smiled, Ray always became
sarcastic when he felt out of control or couldn't understand a situation. 
         "Well, " she sighed. "Just keep n eye on him and if you feel he
is getting worse, bring him back." Ray nodded and gave her  quick hug. 
         "Thanks, Betty." He replied. "I'll call you later." She nodded
and watched him leave. He was certainly a  complex character, that Ray
Vecchio, she had thought so the very first time he had stormed into her
office and thrown his file down on her desk, grumbling about his
supervisor thinking he was a nut she needed to crack simply because he was
a little testy after his divorce. Testy wasn't the word for it, Vecchio
had become almost suicidal, taking risks that should never have been taken
in the line of duty, throwing himself into his work and growling at, if
not physically attacking, his co-workers and collars at a furious rate. He
had of course calmed down, once she assured him that she wasn't going to
lock him in a rubber room or ask him how he felt about the world's
problems in general. When he had partnered with Fraser, at first Ray had
informed her he was a do-gooder super-hero Canadian that had mush for
brains, but as their relationship grew, so did her respect for the
Mountie, threw Ray's disruptions of him. She knew the detective loved and
respected his partner, and she hoped that would be enough to get Fraser
through whatever was bothering him now. 

         "Hey Benny!" called Ray Vecchio, hopping out of his prized 197i
Buick Riviera, his third in the time he had known the Mountie, and leaned
against it as Fraser stared straight ahead. He glanced at his watch.
"Five, four, three..." the city clock chimed on the hour and Fraser came
out of his revere. 
         "Hello, Ray." He greeted warmly, as Vecchio shook his wrist,
damned watch was still running fast. 
         "Let's go," he insisted rounding to the driver's side again as
Fraser opened the passenger side door and pulled back the set for
Diefenbaker to slip in the back. "I gotta pick up the wine fer Ma's
party." Fraser nodded and settled into his seat, placing his Stetson on
the dash in front of him. 
         "Do we have time to stop at my apartment, Ray?" he asked
politely, as Vecchio pulled out into traffic. 
         "Sure, Benny." The Italian agreed amiably, as Fraser watched the
speedometer needle climb well beyond the legal limit. "You wanna change?" 
         "Yes, Please." Replied Fraser, gripping the seat slightly as
Vecchio swerved into the other lane without signaling. "I also need to
pick up your Mother's gift." Ray nodded. 
         "I just hope Frannie keeps her out long enough fer us to get
everything set up." He sighed. "She has a hard time rememebrin'
instructions." 
         "I'm sure Francesca will do fine, Ray." Countered Fraser, always
willing to jump to the defense of the sometimes addle brained woman that
was his best friend's sister; Ray was always too hard on her. "After all,
I am sure she wants this surprise party for your mother to go well and she
has the cover of taking Mrs. Vecchio out for Mother's Day because you told
her you had to work." 
         "Yah, yah." Agreed Ray reluctantly, as he sped up to get under a
yellow light before it turned red. "I just don't want this to get screwed
up fer, Ma, y'know?" Fraser nodded, he knew Ray and the other members of
his family had been working hard to make this surprise dinner for their
mother a success. 
         "I know, Ray." He acknowledged gently and Ray smiled at him. He
cared deeply for Mrs. Vecchio, who treated him like a long lost son, and
he wanted everything to go well too. 
         At Fraser's apartment, Ray waited patiently as Fraser quickly
changed out of his red serge uniform and into his best pair of jeans and a
dress shirt. Ray had told them it would be casual, but he still wanted to
look nice.  The Canadian did look better than he had  few days before,
though occasionally he could still see signs of exhaustion or worry in the
Mounties's face. Fraser was pulling on his boots when Ray asked. 
         "So, anymore dreams, Benny?" Fraser glanced at him surprised and
Ray caught just a hint of guilt in the deep blue eyes before Fraser
lowered them to finish tying his boots. 
         "I've been fine, Ray." He replied and ray knew he was lying, not
a direct lie of course, more of an evasion. 
         "That's good." Offered ray, allowing the half-truth to slide.
"Bring some extra clothes though, Ma want's you to spend the weekend with
us." That was a lie as well, although the large Italian woman would no
doubt be thrilled to have Fraser stay for a visit, she hadn't actually
requested he stay over, that was Ray's idea so he could see if his partner
was sleeping better. 
         "Of course Ray." Fraser greed, throwing few necessities into a
small knapsack. "That was very nice of your Mother to offer." Ray reminded
himself to explain to his Mother later, he was just glad he'd convinced
Fraser to stay, although his partner had not yet refused Mrs. Vecchio
anything. 
         "You never did tell me why you think you killed yer mother,
Benny." Fraser paused, his fingers still holding the  neatly folded shirt
he had been stuffing into the bag, as he raised his head and stared at his
friend surprised. 
         "Where did that come from?" he asked puzzled. Ray shrugged. 
         "I've been thinkin' about it today, guess cause it's Mother's Day
tomorrow." Fraser nodded and fastened the knapsack. "Are ya gonna answer
me, Benny?" 
         "I prefer not to, Ray." He replied quietly, standing and
retrieving his leather jacket. Ray wandered over to glance at the pictures
on Fraser's small bureau. He picked up the one of Robert and Caroline
Fraser. 
         "I think you should, anyway, Benny." He commented calmly. "I need
to understand why you feel that way." Fraser caressed his right eyebrow,
staring at him for a moment, then took the picture from him and placed it
back on the bureau. 
         "It's...difficult to explain, Ray." He muttered. "I...another
time, okay. Today is special, let's not spoil it with my problems." Ray
watched him for a long time and Fraser suspected the detective was going
to argue, but then he shrugged and moved toward the door. 
         "Have it yer way, Benny." He allowed as Fraser and Dief followed
him out. 
  

         "He's too old to be dragging this around any longer, Caroline."
Insisted Robert Fraser, shaking the small blue blanket in his fist, he
still wore his Mountie uniform, for he had only arrived home less than an
hour ago and had found his son, Benton sitting on the floor holding his
treasured blanket, as he always did. Benton rose and launched himself
toward his father, glad to see him home, only to have Robert Fraser
snatched the blanket from him and insist he go to his room. Benton bit
back his tears and ran for the small section of the cabin that held his
small cot, bureau and a few toys and drawings. 
         "He's just a baby, Bob." Pleaded Caroline. "He'll grow out of it
eventually, but right now it's his and he treasures it." 
         "No son of mine is going to grow up a wimp, Caroline." Determined
Robert. "He's too old for such childishness. If he wants to lug something
around, teach him to fetch wood for the fire or muck out the stables, for
God's sake." 
         "He's just three years old!" admonished Caroline, knowing her
small boy couldn't possibly complete such a chore at such a tender age. 
         "I've said all I'm going to say on the matter, Caroline." Stated
Robert firmly as Benton heard the metallic click of the waist bin and he
knew his Father had thrown his dear blanket away. He crawled onto his bed
and cried, his pillow muffling his sobs. 
         A short time later, after he had cried himself to sleep, he awoke
to the feel of a warm body pressed against his and the smell of
peppermint. He opened his eyes and stared at the pretty face of his mother
laying beside him, her long thick lashes spread out across her pale cheeks
and her slim chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of sleep. He
wrapped his tiny arm around her and snuggled into her chest. I love you,
mum, he told her silently, and knowing she would hear his thoughts, for
she always did. A small smile formed across her beautiful lips and her arm
came up behind him to pull him closer. 

         Fraser awoke once again to darkness. He was an adult again, back
in Chicago at Ray's house, and he felt like crying. The precious feel of
his Mother's arms around him lingered, but was quickly fading away as he
became fully awake. He sat up in his bed and wrapped his own arms around
him, wishing he could get the feeling back, as the warmth and the love
that he was craving, that she had always allowed him, was becoming a
distant memory once more. 
         He glanced through the small window of the guestroom for a long
moment, then slipped off his bed, mindful not to awaken the wolf that
slept at the foot of it, and pulled on his jeans and shirt. He folded his
mother's diary; he had been reading it before he had fallen asleep and was
perhps the cause for his dream; and placed it carefully on the table
beside the bed. It was still dark and he knew the rest of the Vecchio's
would not be up yet, as he silently made his way downstairs to the
kitchen. He put the kettle on and dropped into the kitchen chair, resting
his head in his hands. The dreams of his mother were becoming more
frequent and he sensed the discovery of her hope chest had triggered them.

         "Benton?" inquired the soft voice of Mrs. Vecchio. Fraser bolted
from his chair in surprise. 
        "I..I'm sorry.' He offered. "Did I wake you?" She shook hr head
and smiled, gesturing him to take his seat as she walked over to the
refrigerator. 
         "I could not sleep." She told him, removing a small bottle of
juice and retrieving a glass from the cupboard. "I am still so excited
from the party you all gave me." Fraser smiled, she had been very
surprised when she and Francesca had arrived home to find the place
decorated and a special dinner waiting for her in tribute to Mother's Day,
and her surprise grew when Ray presented her with tickets for a Cruise to
the Bahamas, that the family had chipped in for. 
         "I am glad you enjoyed it." Remarked Fraser as the kettle whistle
and he poured himself a cup of tea, after offering her one. She shook her
head and sipped her juice, waiting to speak until he had settled across
from her at the table. 
         "You seem very sad, Benton." She observed, reaching her hand
across to cover his. Fraser lowered his eyes and gently pulled his hand
away to wrap around the warm cup. "Would you like to talk about it?" Now
he knew where Ray got his curiosity, he thought. 
         "No thank you kindly," he declined. "But I am fine." Ma Vecchio
watched him quietly for a moment, as though watching for special
indicators that might give her some insight into his mind. 
         "Benton." She began gently and he dutifully raised his eyes to
hers. "You have such a big heart and you are so kind to others, yet I see
you care for so many people you do not know and not for those around you."
Fraser' raised an eyebrow puzzled. 
         "I do care for..." he began but she gently cut him off. 
         "You hold your feelings back, Benton." She stated. "You do not
let people get close to you, except for my Ray, and even he feels he does
not know you well as he would like. My Francesca cares for you more than I
think she needs to..." Fraser blushed and averted his eyes again. "But you
are her choice then I will abide by that. However I do not think you feel
the same for her, do you Benton?" 
         "I...I care about her, Ma." He managed. "I..I just...she is Ray's
sister and I...." 
        "You are afraid Raimundo will be angry if you are having feelings
for Francesca?" she inquired knowingly and Fraser nodded. "He is her
brother, Benton and is protective of her, but you are your own man and
Francesca her own woman. Do not let my stubborn son come between that."
Fraser shook his head. 
         "It isn't....I can't...." he sighed, wishing he could just say
what he was feeling like a normal person.  "I don't want her hurt." 
         "You will not hurt her, Benton." Insisted Mrs. Vecchio. "I know
this, you are a gentle man, not like the one she married." 
         "I..I don't mean..." explained Fraser. "I would never physically
hurt Francesca, I just....I can't have...." How could he say it? How did
you tell someone that you were cursed and death followed all whom loved
you or you loved. "I'm not...the guy for her." 
         "How do you know this?" asked Mrs. Vecchio. Because Ray said so,
Fraser replied silently, remembering the scene between his partner and
Francesca after Ray had thought she had slept with Fraser. He shook his
head and sipped his tea, he didn't want to get into this heavy a
discussion, but he couldn't be impolite to Mrs. Vecchio. 
         "I don't have much...luck with women." He finally said. "And I
don't want that to overshadow Francesca." 
         "Perhaps your luck with change with my daughter?" 
         "No. I don't think it will, Ma." He replied quietly. 
        "Rainmundo is worried for you, Caro." she told him. "He says you
are not sleeping well." 
        "I have been having some disturbing dreams, that's all." Fraser
deflected. "I'm better now." 
        "And what is this I hear of you killing your Mama?" she asked
quietly and Fraser's eye shot upwrd. His partner had a big mouth.  Mrs.
Vecchio seemed ato know what he was thinking because she quickly said. "Do
not be ngry with him, he is worried about you." Fraser lowered his eyes
from hers. "Tell me why you think this, Benton." 
        "I..I couldn't protect her." he whispered, staring down at his
tea, his knuckes turning white from the grip he had on the ceramic cup.
"She loved me and so they took her from me and I couldn't stop it." 
        "Who took her from you, Benton?" pressed Mrs. Vecchio gently.
"Only God descides who lives and dies, Caro. He made his decision because
it was best, not to punish you." 
        "I know that." agreed Fraser simply. "I just...I feel like I was
responsible. It seems everyone I...I get involved with dies." 
        He heard her rise and looked up, ready to stand politely, but as
he did he was pulled into her embrace, her large arms encircling him and
pressing him to her bosom. 
        "Not all, who love you, Benton." she whispered softly. "Rainmundo
and the others, and I are still here and we love you and will not leave
you. You are one of us now and you must allow us to show you this that we
offer and accept it as truth without fear. I will not press, but you are
like my own son and I would hope you could talk to me when you have
troubles, yes?" Fraser let his guard down and allowed himself to return
her embrace. 
         "I would like that." He whispered, enjoying the secure feel of
her arms around him. 
         "You need a Mama, Benton." She insisted. "And though I am not
your real Mother, I would be honored to be considered as her stand in."
She smiled up at him, still holding on to his shoulders as though sensing
he was ready to bolt. "I will have you fed so you do not grow skinny, I
will treasure your time with me and my family, I will give you hugs and
kisses whenever you need them and I will listen to your dreams and your
fears and all of your hopes. For you I will do this because I love you and
you love Raimundo, so for him you will let me do this, yes?" Fraser stared
down at her, his eyes moist, the lump in his throat preventing him from
speaking. "And I know this, Benton." She continued. "I know that your
Mother loved you and wanted these things for you and wished you to be
happy. She would not want you to hide your feelings or to shy away from
the people who love you. You get your big heart from her, I think, and
such a heart should not allow itself to go unused. Do you understand my
dear?" 
          Fraser tried to swallow and managed to nod, sensing that had her
arms not been gripping him so tightly, he may no longer be standing
upright. No one had ever spoken to him so directly, with so much love and
acceptance, not since....He felt a tear slide down his cheek and was
shocked that he was crying. What was wrong with him. He was a Mountie.
Mounties don't cry, yet this wonderful caring woman had managed to pull
his grief from him by just a few simple words. 
         "I...I miss her." He whispered and felt her arms engulfing him
once more, as his shoulder shook from the painful sobs that now racked his
body. "I..I want my Mum back." He never got to say goodbye, never even got
to see her one last time, never got to hear her sweet voice sing him to
sleep again, never got to make her another card. Mrs. Vecchio held him
tightly, allowing his grief to finally be released, as she whispered
soothingly to him and caressed his hair. 
         "It's alright. Let it out my darling. Grieve for your Mama, it is
right." Fraser did not know how she had guessed that he had never received
closure over his Mother's death, but the fact that she had made his crying
worse and he clung too her, half ashamed for his shocking behavior, half
relieved to finally let go. 
         After a long while, Fraser had calmed somewhat and Mrs. Vecchio
led him back upstairs. She convinced him to lay back down as she puled the
heavy quilt over him and touched his tear stained cheeks. She bent forward
and lightly kissed both sides of his face and offered him a gentle smile. 
         "Thank you." He whispered, feeling foolish, but unable to regret
his loss of control. 
         "You will sleep now." She insisted softly. "In a few hours the
sun will be up and everything will look much better in the light of day.
If you want to talk some more, I will be here for you, my Benton." Fraser
nodded and thanked her again. "I love you caro, you sleep now." Fraser
allowed his eyes to drift shut with a shaky breath. He was asleep almost
instantly, but Mrs. Vecchio remained at his side for a long time after,
humming a quiet lullaby. When she finally rose to leave, Fraser wore a
small smile in his sleep and she instructed the wolf to take watch over
him. 
  
  

         "How's this, Frase?" Franchesca asked, reaching across the
archway, from her position on the tall stepladder, to pin the twisted
crepe paper to the wall above. Fraser turned from where he was setting out
the party things on the table. As he looked upward, his gaze traveled over
her slender calves and muscled thighs, that her incredibly high riding
mini skirt allowed, to the tender pale flesh of her abdomen that, exposed
by the blue half shirt she wore, that almost appeared a couple of sized
too small, especially with it stretched across her breasts and inching
higher due to her position.  E tore his gaze away from her quickly and
finally rested his eyes on the decoration. 
          "That looks fine, Francesca." He returned politely watched her
secure it. She put her heeled foot down to the next step and slipped,
Fraser barely caught her. "Are you alright?" Her arms wrapped around his
neck automatically. 
         "I am now." She purred against him and Fraser became distinctly
aware of the soft warm flesh that his hands were now pressed against. He
quickly set her on her feet and cleared his throat, nervously. Francesca
leaned against him. 
         "I think I twisted my ankle." She stated and Fraser caught her
small grimace of pain and instantly felt guilty for his thoughtlessness.
He lifted her again and walked across the hall to settle her on the sofa.
He knelt to examine her ankle, and sure enough it was starting to swell. 
         "I'm going to have to remove your sandal." He told her and she
nodded. He carefully un-straped the shoe and ran his fingers once more
over her ankle. "It looks like a sprain, you may have to go to the
hospital, Francesca." 
         "I can't!" she insisted, "What about the party?" 
          "I am sure they will understand..." he began. 
         "No, I won't ruin the party, Ma wanted it to be good for Ray."
They had found out Stanley's actual birth date from Welsh and the
Vecchio's had decided to throw the blond detective, that was impersonating
their son who was undercover in the mob, a private surprise party. So far,
Kowalski had only celebrated the real ray Vecchio's birthday, and then he
seemed hesitant to do so, so Fraser and the Vecchio's decided this would
cheer him up. 
         "You will only injure it more if you keep using it, Francesca."
Fraser told her. 
          "I'll stay off my feet and promise to go to the doctor tomorrow,
okay." She offered. Fraser looked like he was about to argue. "Please,
Frase?" 
         "As you wish." He conceded reluctantly, knowing how stubborn the
woman could be at times so it would be useless to argue. He let her to
remain sitting and finished up the decorations as Tony and Maria argued
about something in the other room. He moved to the kitchen to retrieve one
of the party platters from the refrigerator. The tray caught on a bottle
of  pitcher of red juice, made up for the kids, and fell from the rack and
spilled out onto the floor. Fraser quickly set the tray on the counter and
pulled a roll of paper towels from the cupboard. He bent to wipe the spill
and his hand froze as he was thrown back to another time. 

         "You must be more careful, Benton!" Caroline Fraser scolded,
staring down at the small puddle of soup that had spilled over the
hardwood floor from where Ben had accidentally knocked his bowl over. "Get
some towels and clean it up, hurry." Ben slipped from the hardback wooden
chair at the small kitchen table and retrieved a handful of towels. He
hurried back and knelt to wipe up the mess, only to have his Mother grab
him up a moment later. 
         "I'm not finished." He protested, knowing the soup might stain
the wood if he didn't get it up quickly, but his Mother was pushing him
over to the closet, a fearful but determined look in her eye. 
         "Stay in there." She ordered, closing the door tightly and
speaking threw the wood from the other side. "Don't come out until I tell
you." Ben trembled, his Mother was frightened and he wanted to know why.
He heard a loud thumping sound and cracked the closet door just enough
that he could see. At first he could only hear the thudding noise, then a
low vicious growl echoed through the cabin and Ben shivered. He knew that
sound, that was a bear growl and he feared for his Mother, while wondering
how a bear had gotten into their cabin. Then he realized he must have left
the back door open, when his Mother had called him in for lunch. He knew
he was never to do that, there were to many wild animals around their
area, yet he had forgotten to close it and now there was a bear in their
cabin, with his Mother. 
         The fear that his Mother could be hurt was too much for him and
he stepped out of the closet to go in search of her. He found hr near the
front door, backing up from the advancing beast and he quickly grabbed up
his food bowl and threw it at the animal, competing for it's attention an
trying to draw it away from his precious Mother. 
         "Don't move, Benny!" Caroline warned horrified as she watched the
bear advance on her small child. She knew if the boy showed his fear and
turned to run the animal would attack instantly. "Back away slowly, don't
turn your back from him." Ben listened to his Mother and stepped back,
inch by inch, until the bear decided he was no threat and returned it's
attention to the woman, who was sliding across the wall in an attempt to
reach the rifle that hung over the fireplace. The bear growled menacingly
and charged her as she reached above hr for the weapon and she screamed as
it's paw slapped violently against her arm, throwing her to the floor. 
         "MUM!" Ben screamed in terror, afraid the animal would now eat
his disabled mother. The beast turned and he was suddenly face to face
with the largest black bear he had ever seen. It reared up on it's hind
legs and released an ear shattering roar, his powerful jaws working
ferociously as he considered the small boy for his next meal. Ben started
backing away from it again as it advanced toward him, his fear getting the
better of him as he darted between the small crevice of the refrigerator
and the countertop. The area was small but deep and the bear couldn't fit
inside, but he was trying to reach the boy with it's powerful claws, which
came just centimeters from Ben's quivering body each time. Ben screamed,
as one claw managed to tear through his sweater and scratch the soft flesh
of his belly, then there was a loud explosion in his ears and his senses
were assailed by the heavy smells of gun powder and burnt fur. The bear
roared and dropped, revealing a shaking Caroline Fraser lowering the rifle
she held to the floor.Ben squirmed from his hiding place and ran to her,
throwing his arms around her neck as she dropped to the floor. He was
surprised when she landed three hard slaps against his bottom and shook
him, before pulling him into her arms again. 
         "I told you to stay put!" she cried, her fear and anxiety finally
released into tears of relief. "Don't you ever disobey me again or I'll
beat you within an inch of your life, understand?" Ben wiped at the tears
on his face and hugged his Mother hard. 
         "Understood." He whimpered, uncaring that she had punished him,
just happy that she was safe. 

         "Fraser?" inquired Maria from the doorway of the kitchen.
Fraser's eyes shot upwards as he came back to reality and Maria noticed
the spill on the floor. "Do you need some help?" Fraser glanced down and
quickly cleaned up the mess. 
         "I've got it.' He assured, standing to drop the soiled towels in
the trash. 
         "Ray and Ma are on their way, they should be here in a few
minutes." She informed taking the tray of meats and cheeses from the
counter and going out. Fraser rinsed his hands, Ma had convinced Kowalski
to take her shopping and he was sure the detective suspected nothing about
his party. He would be surprised when they all jumped out at him upon
arrival. Quickly Fraser followed Marie out to prepare. 
  

         "Your Mother was a pretty woman, Benton." Taunted Muldoon, as
Fraser and Thatcher watched him cautiously from their mobile position on
the Ferris wheel. "But when I shot her, she dropped, like a big ol' sack
a' potatoes." Fraser steeled himself against the fury that mounted inside
him. He had a job to do, innocent lives were at stake. But soon, soon he
would apprehend Muldoon. Soon he would make him pay. He wasn't really
listening to the rest of what the man was saying, but a moment later
Muldoon attached the dangerous gas to the Ferris wheel and it was up to
him and Inspector Thatcher to diffuse it. 
         Muldoon had gotten of and was running across the ground bellow,
when Fraser had the chance to look for him. He saw the man had a gun
pointed at him, yet when he heard the shot fires he felt nothing; that's
when he saw Ray Vecchio go down. He had taken the bullet for him. He
stared at him shocked, then felt his head drop down, fear that he had lost
his friend rendering him immobile, guilt kept him silent. 

        He saw her body laying there, saw the dark liquid that was slowly
crawling across the floor beside her, her face was turned away from him,
as she was laying on her side. He should have stayed where he was, she
would be angry that he had disobeyed her again. His head tilted curiously,
wondering why she would sleep on the floor so early in the day, when there
was a perfectly good bed just a few feet away from her. The air was
scented with a sweet smell, one that was both familiar and unrecognizable
to him. Another smell soon prevailed over the first, a distasteful putrid
smell and as he felt a wetness between his legs; he realized he had wet
himself. He approached the woman, coming to kneel beside her, unaware of
the dark red liquid that spoiled his jeans as he sit beside her. 
         He shook her gently, trying to wake her, but she remained
sleeping, so he decided he would lay with her. He stretched out against
her, throwing his small arm across her waist and started humming a lullaby
the lady had taught him. He rocked her gently as he started to sing the
words, until the movement pulled her closer against him and the force of
her larger body was propelled on to her back, with his tiny arm and leg
pinned under her. He stared down at the her face and screamed and screamed
and couldn't stop screaming, while he struggled to get out from under her.

         "Mum!" Fraser cried bolting upright on the bedroll beside
Thatcher, the warm glow of the lantern kept the small tent both warm and
well lit, the afterglow of the lovemaking still evident on her pale skin. 
His cry hadn't awoke her and he found himself staring down at her
longingly. He shouldn't have done it, but how could he regret it? Margaret
could not live in his world and she wouldn't ask him to live in hers. It
was a mutual decision, something they both longed for, and something he
was sure he would treasure for a long time to come. He had finally gained
her acceptance, her love, and they were parting. Would he never hold a
life time relationship with someone he loved? Would they forever be ripped
from him, either from death or some other circumstance? 
         He gently moved away, careful not to wake her and quickly
dressed. He needed some air, his dream still painfully evident in his
mind. He quietly blew out her lantern, to prevent a possibly fire hazard,
and slipped from the tent, securing it tightly once outside to prevent the
cold from reaching her. He wandered away from the campsite, his eyes
adjusting to the darkness easily, his body used to the frigid temperature.

         Tomorrow they would find Muldoon, he was sure of it. The man who
had drove his Father to attempted murder. The man who killed his beloved
Mother and claimed she dropped from the gunshot like a sack of potatoes.
Fraser had seen that murder, but had apparently blocked the memory from
his mind. He had never been able to remember that day, or the days
following clearly, but now they memories flooded back with agonizingly
accuracy. 
         His Mother had told him to go to the barn and to stay there until
someone came for him. He hadn't understood what was wrong, or whom it was
that had driven up to their cabin on a snowmobile. They so rarely had
visitors he was curious, but his Mother insisted he go and so he had,
pulling on his boots and coat his Mother practically threw at him as she
rushed him to the back door. When he had seen his Mother's body drop to
the floor, he waited until her assailant had left and then hurried inside,
despite his Mother's orders to wait for someone to retrieve him. Somehow,
he knew she would not be coming for him and it was this knowledge that
made him go to her. He had found her lying in a pool of her own blood and
she was cold, so he lay next to her to warm her, but then her body had
rolled and he saw the vacant look in her beautiful eyes and he screamed
for the loss of his Mother. He had pulled himself out from under her and
ran back to the barn, where he eventually slept on and off for the next
three days until his Father had found him.  He had always believed it was
his Grandmother, Martha, who had taken him away, but it was Bob Fraser who
found his six year old son, half frozen, starved and in shock in the loft
of the barn. His Father who had gathered him into his arms, murmuring such
tender words of endearments that it hardly seemed to be Robert Fraser at
all. He told his son to fight, told him he couldn't loose him to and
carried him the twenty-three kilometers to Martha and George's mobile
shelter. Cried as Martha opened the door to her cabin and welcomed the
frozen pair inside, then kissed his son goodbye as he went after his
wife's killer, vowing to avenge the death of the woman he loved and the
man who took Benton's Mother away from him. 
          The man who had shot Ray Vecchio and had tried to kill Fraser
and Ray Kowalski. The man who thought he was above the law, above morals,
above everything decent. There was one thing he was not above, and that
was Fraser's wrath. Although his sense of duty and moral code would no
doubt prevent him from actually killing the man, it did not mean he didn't
want to and he understood the rage that had driven his own Father to
attempt it. He was a Mountie. He would capture Muldoon, regardless of what
it might personally cost him. He owed it to Ray, to his Father and mostly
to his dear Mother, who he realized meant everything to him, who Muldoon
had shot down in cold blood. The injustice of it seared through Fraser,
the fact that his Father had never told him the truth increased his anger.

         He glanced down and realized he was shaking, but he couldn't
stop. He wanted his Father to be alive again. He wanted Ray Vecchio and
Ray Kowalski as his friends and his partners. He wanted Margaret to stay
with him and be happy. He wanted to tell Francesca how he felt about her.
He wanted to be like everyone else, and not stand out so badly. He wanted
Muldoon, more than anything he wanted to feel his hands around the man's
throat and squeeze the life from him, until it brought his Mother back to
him. His body was so tight from his uncontrolled tremors, his breathing
came in gasps as though he could no longer get enough air and his blood
pounded in his ears. He could no longer hold it back. He released an
anguished scream across the quiet night sky, a scream that vibrated in his
ears and caused the sled dogs to howl. A scream that shook the people in
the camp awake in their tents, and a scream that sent a shiver through
Holloway Muldoon, who was camped many miles away. 
  
  

         Fraser stared at the now prone body of Muldoon, shocked that his
Father had been able to cause a physical blow to his live nemesis. Robert
Fraser raised his bruised hand to examine it. 
         "I don't know why anyone does that." He commented. "Lord it
hurts." Fraser had the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips, but as
he looked down at his Father's hand and then gazed over the rest of his
Father's form he frowned. Robert noticed his Son's sudden appraisal.
"What?" 
         "You're fading." Fraser finally remarked quietly, his expression
for once showed all to well his concern. 
         "I've solved my last case." Robert explained simply, unable to
look directly into his son's saddening eyes. "I caught my last man.
There's no reason to hang around." Fraser's lower lip quivered slightly,
as he continued to stare forlornly at his father, his eyes glistening with
unshed tears. I don't want you to go! He wanted to scream. How can you
leave me now? All the times I was aggravated and didn't want you around
and now that I need you most you're leaving? 
         "It's just I..ah..thought you were permanent." He managed,
uncaring of the telltale tremor in his voice. 
         "Oh, son," sighed Robert Fraser. "Nothing's permanent." Fraser
nodded, his lips trying to form a smile for his Father's sake, but the
effort he was exuding to keep from crying made his lips stiff and
unyielding. Robert Fraser looked then, straight into his Son's shimmering
blue eyes, and seemed on the verge of saying something, when a soft glow
seemed to illuminate the darkened corner of the mine shaft. He glanced
over and almost wept himself. 
         "Caroline." He said in disbelief, as Fraser turned to look at the
shining angel, dressed in traditional leather and fur native gear, walked
toward them. 
         "Mum." He almost whispered, his threat of control slipping enough
too make his voice crack under the strain. She paused before him, reached
up and pushed a stray lock of his hair away from his face, staring at him
lovingly. He wanted to throw his arms around her, to hold her and never
let her go, to tell all the things he longed to say, yet his voice had
left him and fear that movement on his part would cause her to disappear
kept him still. She smiled and turned to her husband, who also seemed at a
loss for words. Fraser watched them walk toward the light Caroline had
entered from, she turned back slightly to give him a long, loving look,
then continued on with her husband, both his parents disappearing softly
into whatever new life they had earned, as darkness sheltered the
mineshaft once more. Fraser lifted a shaky hand to touch the spot his
Mother's fingers had caressed and he finally allowed his tears to fall, as
he whispered goodbye. 

    Fraser swept away the snow from the small round picture and traced his
Mother's face with his fingers. He did miss her, he missed  his Dad too,
but knowing they were finally together hlped eliviate his sense of loss.
There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he longed to say and
never would be able to. He smiled slightly and for a moment he thought he
smelled peppermint again, as he reached inside his jacket and removed her
diary, with the last card he had made her tucked inside. He made a place
for it beside the tall headstone, it was wrapped in plastic to prevent the
moisture from getting inside. 
        "Happy Mother's Day, Mum." he whispered kising the hedstone
gently. He rose and glanced back at his partner Ray Kowaski, who waited
patiently a few feet away by the sled. They were returning to Chicago in a
few days and there was still much Fraser had to do, now that he had the
strength to really start living. 
  

          Benton Fraser opened the last sealed box and pulled out a large
blue, fur lined parka that he recognized as the one he had worn while
tracking Muldoon in Canada. He tossed it toward the small chaise, then
glanced back as a long white envelope slipped from the pocket and floated
to the floor. He bent and picked up the letter, curious. His name was
etched across it in a bold masculine handwriting. The letter Buck
Frobisher had given him, the morning they set out from camp to capture
Muldoon, he hadn't the time to read it then and Sgt. Frobisher told him he
could wait and save it for later, so he hadn't deemed it important. He'd
forgotten all about it. He broke the seal and pulled out the few pages
inside, the very first line capturing his attention and sending a flood of
emotions through him. 
 'Dear Son, 
        I have asked Buck to lend me his hands at this time, so I could
write this letter to you, to say the things I couldn't say when I was
alive or even in death. Tomorrow we go after Muldoon and I probably won't
be thinking clearly enough to warn you against the rage that I know you
are holding inside. Don't let it destroy your principles, or interfere
with your duty, like I did. I let my anger consume me and I wanted Muldoon
dead for what he had done to your mother, even tried to kill him myself
thought I had succeeded. I suspect my guilt over what I tried to do is
part of what has held me to you all this time and I believe a resolution
to my plight may be near, in which case I may not get to stay with you,
Son. 
 I am sorry I never had the courage to tell you what happened to your
Mother, but I think I was scared you would blame me for not protecting
her, and I couldn't bare it if you had looked at me with such
disappointment and anger. It was the coward's way out, I know, but it
seems that was my only way out, when it came to emotions and the like. I
blame myself for not being there, Benton, for not showing her the love she
deserved while she was alive, and I suspect you hold yourself responsible
as well for her death. You were a child, Son. There was nothing you could
have done to save her, but I know your habit of taking on everyone else's
burden and letting guilt eat at your insides. Forgive yourself Ben; don't
carry it around like I did, even beyond the grave. Let it go. 
 I am aware that I was a disappointment to you and your Mother, that I
wasn't there emotionally for either of you, not as I should have been, but
in my day men simply didn't express themselves that way, it wasn't done. I
took my duty as a Mountie and to my family seriously, Ben, you have to
believe that, but I didn't know how to change the man I was. And you were
so damned smart, Son, much more than your old man ever was and so curious
about everything and you had your Mother's heart, so you craved affection
so much that you sometimes scared me. You were walking at eight months,
forming complete sentences in a year and your Mother taught you to read
and write at only three. You were amazing. Perhaps that was one reason I
stayed away so much, I didn't know how to react to you, or perhaps I was
afraid you would model yourself after me as you grew up and I didn't want
that. I didn't want to steel your fire, Ben, to make you into an emotional
cripple like me, but my plan backfired and you became more like me than
was conformable. 
 Then, when you joined the RCMP, I was so proud of you, for following in
the footsteps of your father, yet at the same time I wanted to shake some
sense into you. You could be so much more, a famous scientist or
professor, but you had chosen your path and it was a noble one indeed. At
first I worried about you, sensing your heart would get in the way of your
duty, for you always had an abundance of affection for people, whether you
knew them or not. But you proved me wrong, Son, and I am glad. You
surpassed my expectations and finally got out from under my shadow. 
 When my own colleagues, people I had worked for years, practically threw
you out for turning in Gerard, I was furious. But then you met the yank
and I think he was good for you, you had needed a friend. I was glad you
had found him and that he made you happy. If I tormented you about
grandkids, it was only because I wanted you to find someone to love, like
I loved your Mother. You always had so much love to give, Ben; you need
someone to shower that gift with. As I said, you have your Mother's heart.
When she looked at you it was sometimes blinding to watch her, she loved
you that mush, Son. You were our pride, you were her treasure. 
 Well, it is almost dawn and you will be getting up soon. I have to let
Buck get things started. Don't fear love, Son. Despite the drawbacks that
sometimes happen, it is the most precious thing there is. Be strong Ben,
and let someone one into your heart. Your mother would have wanted you to
be happy and loved. 
I love you, Son. 
Dad' 

         Fraser swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly placed the
letter back inside the envelope. He walked over to his small desk and
pulled out the cigar box that held his Mother's cards, and placed the
envelope inside, as someone suddenly cried out for him. He dropped the box
back inside the drawer of the desk and hurried out, finding a very
pregnant Francesca waddling toward him. 
         "Is it the baby?' he asked her concerned and she nodded
frantically, as her brother Ray hurried in from another room. 
         "What's wrong Frannie?' he demanded worried after hearing his
sister's cry. 
         "Can you get your car ready, Ray?" requested Fraser as he helped
Francesca on with her coat and Ray's wife Stella approached from the small
kitchen. 
         "What's going on?" she asked as Ray grabbed his coat and hurried
outside the house. 
         "The b...b...baby's c..coming!" squealed her sister-in-law and
Stella's eyes grew. 
         "Want me to get your bag?" she offered quickly, but Fraser had
already collected the small suitcase from his study, they had put it there
because it was closest to the door. Ray ran back inside and informed them
the car was running, as Francesca glanced over her shoulder at Stella. 
         "Can you watch Caroline?' she pleaded as another contraction hit
and her face screwed up in pain. Stella nodded, more than willing to stay
with the small two year old who was currently taking a nap, with her own
year old, Benton Ray, Fraser's God-son. 
         "We'll bring her by later." She assured as Fraser guided his wife
to the door and down over the stone steps. Ray had opened the door of
Stella's Forester and Fraser got her settled in the seat, carefully
strapping her in. He slid into the back seat as Stella called Diefenbaker
back, for the wold was running down the stairs after them. Fraser
instructed him to stay and Ray pulled away from the small two story he and
Francesca now owned.  The house had needed a lot of work when the
originally bought it, but between Fraser and Ray they had made wonderful
improvements over it. It was within walking distance of the Vecchio's new
home, so Francesca could visit her family often and vice a versa. 
        Ray and Stella lived further inside the city, but they visited
often, and Stanley Kowalski had moved to a small town in the Yukon, after
marrying Fraser's sister Maggie. They had two children and Ray was working
as a special Investigator with the RCMP, as a type of Liaisons officer
with the United States. Maggie still worked as a Mountie, and Stanley
chose to spend the time at home with his two kids, when not on assignment
so Maggie could work. Fraser smiled, for his new brother-in-law was very
adamant as his roll of Father, bed time stories every night, dance lessons
during the evening, snowball fights every day, the children were spoiled
with affection. 
          Fraser had accepted Inspector Thatcher's vacant position at the
Consulate, upon his return to Chicago, and the generous salary he now
received was enough that Fraser had managed to build them a small summer
house where his Father's cabin had once stood. Now he and Francesca would
be able to visit a few times a year, and Fraser felt he had the best of
both worlds. He still got to go home and would be able to show his
children their heritage, while still maintaining a life in Chicago
surrounded by the people he loved most.  Francesca was happier than he had
ever seen her and he was grateful she had been patient with him all this
time, until he finally worked up the courage to express his true feelings
toward her, which he did shortly after their return from capturing
Muldoon. Ray Vecchio had been surprisingly accepting when Fraser informed
him of his feelings toward his sister, though Fraser suspected Ma Vecchio
had had a long talk with him that made him reevaluate his reaction. 
         At the hospital, Francesca was rushed into the birthing room, as
Fraser scrubbed and they tied a gown around him. at exactly 3:15 that
morning, Robert Stanley and Raymond Lewis were born. Fraser pulled out his
worn blue baby blanket and wrapped Robert Jr. inside it, after the nurses
cleaned the children and presented them to their parents. Francesca
offered her husband a dazzling smile, despite her exhaustion and
discomfort, as she held little Ray and Fraser gently rocked Robert Jr. He
returned her smile and leaned over to gently kiss his wife, whispering how
much he loved her, then straightened as the slight scent of peppermint
invaded his senses. Robert and Caroline watched over their son and
grandchildren and smiled at each other, the circle was complete. 
  
  

The End?