Prisoners of Love    This story originally appeared in the DUE SOUTH zine
LAST OF A BREED #1, by Neon Rainbow Press, and is reprinted here with
permission of the editor. 

 Enjoy! 

 ********** 

 Prisoners of Love by Angela Rivieccio 

 

 Fraser put the finishing touches on the report and closed the file. His
duties as Deputy Liaison Officer at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago
certainly were varied, but none were as comforting as his former posting
up in Canada's vast wilderness. It had taken many months for the worst of
his homesickness to fade, and now it plagued him only occasionally,
although with the current heatwave, those occasions were definitely coming
much more frequently. It wasn't so bad here at the Consulate, but the
sweltering heat in his apartment, which lacked air conditioning, had kept
him awake for the past several nights. To make matters worse, the heat was
causing Diefenbaker to become downright surly, the Arctic wolf even more
unaccustomed to the humid climate than he was. 

 The sound of a quick knock on his door brought him out of his reverie,
and he turned to see Inspector Thatcher enter his office. "Constable, do
you have that Peterson report ready?" 

 Fraser got to his feet, stepped around his desk, and handed the file to
her. "Yes, ma'am. I believe you'll find everything in order." 

 "Good. Thank you." She took the file from him and turned to leave. 

 "Uh, ma'am?" 

 Thatcher turned back. "What?" 

 "I was wondering if you had any plans for lunch." 

 Thatcher opened her mouth, then closed it again without speaking. She
glanced at her watch. "Actually, I'll have to work through lunch today,"
she finally replied. 

 "Ah," Fraser said, his voice neutral. "Perhaps I could bring you back
something from Hunan's, then?" 

 "Oh. Yes. All right. Some fried rice and egg drop soup would be fine." 

 Fraser nodded. "Understood." 

 She hesitated only briefly before giving him a shy smile. "Fine. Thank
you." 

 "You're welcome." 

 He watched silently as she turned and left his office. His gaze dropped
to Diefenbaker, whose keen lupine eyes missed nothing, and he flushed
slightly. "I was only being polite," he explained. 

 Dief whined in reply. 

 Fraser shook his head, reaching for his Stetson, and started towards the
door. Opening it, he turned back to his companion. "Well, are you coming?"


 The wolf growled. 

 The Canadian sighed wearily, closing the door behind him. "Ingrate." 

 ***** 

 Fraser waited for the light to turn green before starting across the
street. He was on his way back to the Consulate after spending only half
an hour at the busy Chinese restaurant. He rarely used the entire hour
allotted him for lunch, finding it made no sense to waste what time
remained doing nothing. 

 He stopped so abruptly that the pedestrian behind him barely avoided
bumping into him. Fraser never heard what the irritated man said to him as
he passed by, his gut tightening in warning. 

 Someone was watching him. 

 Intense blue eyes scanned his surroundings, all senses on alert. He saw
no suspicious activity. He recognized no one amidst the sea of people
bustling along the busy city street, who were oblivious to the rest of
humanity, trapped within the limited confines of their own little worlds.
He raised his gaze from ground level to the tall buildings that surrounded
him, but saw no hint of the source of the threat. 

 "Hey, buddy. You wanna get out of the way?" 

 Fraser snapped his head around to see a middle-aged man sitting in a car
less than a foot away from him, the door slightly ajar. He was unable to
open it completely without hitting the Mountie. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry,"
he responded, moving quickly out of the way. 

 He quickly scanned the streets again, but the feeling was gone. He felt
vaguely embarrassed by his apparent over-reaction. I really need to get a
good night's sleep, Fraser thought as he began walking towards the
Consulate once more. 

 ********** 

 Diefenbaker sniffed the ground intently as he moved deeper into the
brush, happy to once again be in his element. Fraser tried to walk him at
least once each day in the park, to remind both himself and the animal of
the environment they had left behind. Normally Dief relished the time,
frolicking among the trees and bushes, a rare thing in an urban area such
as Chicago. But this heatwave was slowing everyone down, including the
wolf. 

 He had worked later than usual, using the paperwork Thatcher had assigned
him as an excuse to remain in the cool building. But when the last staff
member was ready to leave, he could no longer put off the inevitable, and
he and Dief returned home. He made a quick meal of some leftovers, eating
them right out of the refrigerator, before taking their evening sojourn to
the neighborhood park. 

 Fraser wiped the sweat from his brow with his bare forearm. The slight
breeze did nothing to relieve the oppressive heat -- the air was much too
warm. He sighed, knowing that another sleepless night loomed ahead. 

 He had just sat down on an empty bench when, once again, the instinctive
feeling that he was being watched passed through him. Fraser leaped to his
feet, his body tense, his eyes moving over the brush like a predator
searching for prey. 

 "Hello? Is anyone there?" 

 There was no response. 

 By the time Diefenbaker joined him, the sensation was gone, and the wolf
seemed to sense nothing out of the ordinary. It was not inconceivable that
someone else would be in the park this time of night. His was not the
safest of neighborhoods, and it was possible that whoever had been there
simply did not want to be seen. Yet the Mountie wondered at the
coincidence of feeling as though he were being watched twice in the same
day. 

 "Come on, Dief. Let's go." 

 They began walking back to the apartment. 

 ********** 

 Fraser trailed behind Diefenbaker as they walked up the stairs to the
second floor of the police station. When he arrived at his office that
morning, he had placed a call to Staff Sergeant Meers at his former
posting in the Territories, asking him to run a check for any recently
paroled or escaped criminals whom he had assisted in apprehending. Meers
had called back several hours later, reporting that no one who might have
harbored a grudge against the Mountie had recently been released, or had
escaped from prison. 

 The rest of the day had been uneventful -- no sensation of being watched,
no unusual occurrences that would indicate any danger -- and Fraser was
beginning to believe that perhaps the heat and lack of sleep had indeed
caused him to over react. He needed a diversion, and he could think of
none better than the Italian detective who had become his best friend, so
after work, he and the wolf had come directly to the station from the
Consulate. 

 As he walked through the squad room door, he came face to face with
Elaine Besbriss, who was leaving for the night. He stopped in the doorway.
"Good evening, Elaine." 

 She smiled at him. "Fraser. Haven't seen you in a while." 

 "Yes, well, unfortunately none of my recent cases have required me to
involve the Chicago police department," the Canadian replied hastily. 

 "That's too bad." 

 Fraser blinked. "Is Ray here?" 

 Elaine nodded, tilting her head towards the corner of the room where
Vecchio's desk was located, her dark eyes never leaving Fraser's blue
ones. "Still here. Have you had dinner yet?" 

 "Not yet, no." 

 "I was planning to try this new place down the street, and was wondering
if you'd..." 

 They were interrupted by two detectives who were trying to exit the squad
room. Fraser took a deep breath as he stepped back to allow them through.
"Ah, well then I won't keep you. Have a good evening." 

 A smile crept up on the corner of her lips as she watched him join Ray.
"Some men are just hopeless..." Shaking her head, she left the room. 

 Ray motioned him to sit down in the chair opposite the desk as he
listened to someone speaking on the other end of the telephone line.
"...Are you kidding? They don't have a snowball's chance in Hell-- Well,
I've got twenty bucks that says you're wrong. You got it. I'll be around
tomorrow to collect my winnings... Yeah, right. Talk to you later." 

 Ray hung up the phone. "Hey, Benny. You just get off work?" 

 "Yes, Ray." 

 Ray noticed the shadows beneath Fraser's eyes and the drawn look on the
Mountie's face, and frowned. "You look beat. Thatcher been running you
ragged again?" 

 "No, it's the heat. Diefenbaker and I are simply not used to such a warm
climate. I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep this week, and at this
point, I'm lucky that Diefenbaker is still speaking to me." 

 The wolf grunted in reply, and Ray looked down to see that he had planted
himself in the place where the best effect from the squad room's fan could
be felt. 

 Ray grinned. "Well, I've got just the thing to perk you up. Box seat
tickets to tonight's Cubs-Braves game at Wrigley Field. Right behind the
dugout. You game?" 

 The Canadian's eyebrows rose. "I've never seen a professional baseball
game before." 

 "But you do know what baseball is, right?" 

 "Yes, Ray," Fraser replied patiently. "We used to play it during the
summer months in Tuktoyaktuk. As a matter of fact, there was this one
game... It was the bottom of the eighth inning and we were down by two
runs. I had just hit a line drive into center field, when a caribou came
out of nowhere and--" 

 "Tell it to me on the way," Ray interrupted. "We gotta go if we wanna
catch the warm-up." 

 "What about Diefenbaker?" 

 "Just leave that to me." 

 Ray got to his feet, and they began towards the door. 

 "Ray," Fraser began, "have you noticed anything out of the ordinary in
the past few days?" 

 The detective frowned. "Not that I can think of. Why?" 

 Fraser shrugged as he held open the door for his friend. "No reason." 

 ********** 

 Ray parked the Riviera in front of Fraser's apartment building and stared
straight ahead. 

 "Come on, Ray. It wasn't that bad." 

 "Fraser, the Cubs had two hits in the entire game and were shut out four
to nothing. The only thing worse that could have happened was if it had
been a no-hitter." 

 "But Diefenbaker did catch that foul ball," Fraser replied, turning to
look at the wolf in the back seat, who still held the baseball tightly
between his jaws. "And the man sitting next to you was very understanding
when you accidentally spilled your beer all over his shirt." 

 "Understanding, hell. Cost me ten bucks to pay for cleaning it when he'll
probably just hand it over to his wife and let her do it. And on top of
that, I gotta fork over twenty bucks to Freddie for tonight's massacre." 

 Fraser opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, apparently
thinking better of lecturing the cop about illegal betting on sporting
events. He tried again. "Well, Dief and I had a wonderful time. Thank you,
Ray." He opened the door and climbed out, Diefenbaker following. 

 "Night, Benny." 

 "Good night, Ray." 

 Ray watched as the Canadian entered the building, then put the Buick in
gear and drove off. While tonight's game hadn't been the worst he'd ever
witnessed, Ray had been hard pressed to enjoy it. Fraser, on the other
hand, rooted for both teams, unaware of the disgruntled looks he was
drawing from the surrounding Cubs fans, and had enjoyed it immensely. The
corner of Ray's mouth quirked up in a smile. The Mountie always took
everything so seriously, and it had been fun to watch him finally open up
and enjoy himself a little. Most of the time, Fraser spent his leisure
time in that cramped little apartment, reading one obscure book or
another. He definitely needed to get out more. 

 "Oh, damn," Ray swore under his breath when he realized he'd forgotten to
pass on his mother's invitation to dinner tomorrow night. Checking his
mirrors for traffic, he swung the Riviera around in a wide u-turn, and
drove back to the apartment building on West Racine, pulling the car into
the same parking space he had occupied only five minutes before. He
climbed wearily out of the vehicle and went inside. 

 Slightly winded after making the two story climb, Vecchio knocked on the
door to apartment 3J. 

 He received no reply. 

 "Yo, Benny," Ray called out loudly as he knocked again. "Open up." 

 A frown marred his features as the seconds passed and the Canadian failed
to open the door. He reached out to try the doorknob. When it turned
easily beneath his hand, he opened the door and stepped inside. 

 "Fraser?" 

 Fraser sat at the kitchen table, a piece of paper clutched tightly in his
hand. He stared blankly at the wall, all color drained from his face. He
gave no indication that he'd heard Ray's entrance at all. 

 Ray approached him slowly, concern knotting his stomach. "Fraser?" 

 After a long moment, the Mountie finally turned his gaze upwards to meet
his, and Ray saw the normally clear blue eyes were churning with anguish.
"Benny, what's wrong?" 

 Fraser tried to speak, but no sound came out. He dropped his gaze, and
extended the hand that clutched the paper towards him. Ray slipped it from
his grasp, and began to read. 

  Ben,
 I'm sorry.
 I know that mere words can never express
 the regret I feel for all I've put you
 through, but as I watched you lying on that
 train platform, not knowing if you were even
 still alive, I knew I had made the biggest
 mistake of my life. I was too afraid to come
 to you then, afraid to risk being sent back to
 prison. But I only ended up trading one form
 of prison for another.
 I love you, Ben -- more than I've ever
 loved anyone else in my life.
 All I can ask of you now is that you meet
 with me, and let me try to explain. I know
 you can probably never forgive me for
 everything I've done to you, but time is
 running out, and sometimes you just have to
 force yourself to move past the fear.
 Ben, only you have the power to release
 us both from our prisons, before it's too
 late.
 Please...
 Victoria
  

 Ray's gaze moved from the note to his friend, who still sat with his head
bowed, his pain radiating throughout the room. Ray forced himself to
suppress his own rage towards the woman responsible for his nearly killing
his best friend and 

 concentrated on the man before him. Fraser was so completely vulnerable
where Victoria was concerned. They had never really talked about what had
happened after Victoria's devastating visit to Chicago, and it had taken a
while for their friendship to regain its equilibrium. Ray had come to
believe Fraser had finally managed to get his head straight where she was
concerned, but now he wasn't quite so sure. Ray realized he had to tread
carefully. 

 "Don't do it, Benny." 

 Ray pulled up a chair close to Fraser, then sat down beside him, leaning
forward intently. Fraser raised his head and Ray met his eyes straight on.


 "I know how much she means to you, but I also know what she's capable of.
And as much as it hurts to admit it, so do you. If you meet with her,
she'll try and push all your buttons again and do whatever it takes to get
you to go with her." 

 Fraser's voice was not quite steady as he replied, "But what if, this
time, she--" 

 "How many chances are you supposed to give her, Fraser?" Ray's voice
began taking on an angry edge, and he took a deep breath to calm down.
"You gave her more chances than she deserved the last time, and she still
betrayed you." 

 Fraser got to his feet and moved to the window, leaning against the wall
and gazing outside into the darkness. "It was all my fault." 

 Ray remained at the table, giving him the space that he seemed to so
desperately need. "You did what you had to do." 

 "No. I could have been like you -- I could have let her go." 

 It took Ray a moment to realize what Fraser was referring to. ATF agent
Suzanne Chapin. Ray's love for the undercover agent had been so deep that
he had been willing to let her go, even when he thought she was involved
in illegal gun smuggling. 

 "But I was so committed to doing my duty," Fraser continued, his voice
filled with derision. "It was my actions that destroyed her." 

 "No, Fraser," Ray countered, getting up and moving to stand before him,
desperately trying to think of a way to ease his friend's guilt. "You
turned in a criminal who was on the wrong path long before you even met
her. When she came back she could have given up her plans for revenge if
she really loved you. She made her own choices." 

 Fraser raised his head and Ray could see the lighting from the street
reflected in his overly-bright eyes. 

 "I love her, Ray." 

 "I know you do, Benny. But it's an unhealthy love -- a destructive love.
And if you give yourself up to it again, this time you might not survive."


 Fraser took a shaky breath, his gaze sliding again to the street below. 

 "Let her go, Fraser." 

 "I don't know if I can, Ray." 

 "You've got to, Benny. I don't think either one of us can go through that
again." 

 He saw Fraser struggle to compose himself, to bank down emotions he so
rarely let himself feel, and wandered back to the kitchen table. He hoped
his words had been enough to pull his friend back from the precipice
Victoria seemed determine to push him over. If only that bullet had hit
the right target... 

 Ray knew the Mountie had regained his composure when Fraser joined him at
the table, pushing in the chairs. "You gonna be okay?" 

 "I think so, Ray." 

 "You sure?" 

 He nodded. 

 "Okay, then I'm gonna go." 

 Fraser followed him to the door. "Thanks, Ray." 

 Ray smiled warmly at him. "Anytime, Benny." He opened the door, then
stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot. Ma's making lasagna tomorrow night and she
wanted me to invite you over for dinner." 

 Fraser's smile seemed a bit forced. "I'd love to. Please thank her for
inviting me." 

 "Okay. Uh, meet me at the station after work -- around six." 

 Fraser nodded. "I will. Good night, Ray." 

 "Night, Fraser." 

 ***** 

 Ray pulled into the usual space in front of his home and turned off the
motor. His mind had been so occupied by the sudden turn of events that he
could not actually recall making the trip home from Fraser's apartment.
She's gonna hurt him again. I just know it. There has to be some way to
stop her. 

 But no matter how hard he tried, Ray could not think of any way to do so
without causing Fraser more pain. Maybe if I sleep on it... 

 He climbed out of the Buick and headed for the door, but he already knew
sleep would be the one thing he would not be doing much of that night. 

 ********** 

 The Arctic landscape that was usually so comforting was now cold and
desolate. Fraser scanned the horizon, but the entire world was white,
covered by a sheet of hard, unyielding ice. The sky was a thick, murky
gray, pouring out a heavy snowfall, the sight a fitting backdrop to the
wind's mournful cry. 

 His eyes strained to focus on a figure off in the distance, shrouded by a
veil of snow. Whoever it was was slowly making their way towards him. 

 The sound of a footfall behind him spun him around. 

 "You're a Mountie, son." It was his father. "It's your duty to 

 bring in everyone who breaks the law." 

 "I know that, Dad." 

 "Sometimes love should override the law." 

 Fraser jerked around to find Ray standing behind him. 

 "The law plays no favorites," the dead Mountie countered. 

 "Maybe it should." 

 Fraser's eyes moved once again to the person slowly approaching, his
mouth going dry. 

 "A Consular officer needs to project the right image, Constable,"
Thatcher reminded him, and he turned to face her. 

 "Understood, ma'am." 

 "Duty -- it's what you do," his father reminded him. "It's who you are.
If you can't do your duty, then you shouldn't be wearing the uniform." 

 "What about love?" Ray questioned. "What about your duty to yourself?" 

 "You can't have honor if you fail to do your duty." 

 The figure was almost upon them and Fraser still could not see who it was
through the blinding snow. 

 "You can't have honor without duty--" 

 "You have to project the right image--" 

 "Love has to come first--" 

 Their voices began to overlap, and in the confusion Fraser did not know
whom to address first. 

 "Ben." 

 His blood ran cold as her soft voice reached him, and Fraser turned to
find it had been Victoria making the solitary trek through the snow. Her
face was drawn and tired, her clothing torn and tattered. Long dark hair
moved with each breath of the wind. When her eyes met his, the depth of
her pain nearly drowned him. 

 "Victoria...." 

 "How could you do this to me?" 

 He opened his mouth to speak, but the strength of his conflicting
emotions prevented him. 

 "I thought you loved me." 

 "Turning her in was the right thing to do," the elder Fraser stated,
stepping closer to his son. 

 "You should have let her go," Ray interjected, also moving in closer as
if to prove his point. 

 "Constable, you are not projecting an image proper to the Canadian
Consulate." 

 "All I ever wanted to do was to love you." 

 Their voices grew louder, crushing him beneath their weight. He fell to
his knees in the snow, curling forward instinctually for protection, and
they surrounded him, their words continuing to press down on him, smother
him. 

 His hand brushed up against something and Fraser lifted his head to find
a single rose growing in the snow. He knew what he had to do. He reached
out with a trembling hand and pulled it from the icy ground. He
straightened, and extended the rose to Victoria. 

 "I do love you, Victoria." 

 "Do you?" 

 A drop of blood slipped from the petals, falling to the pure white snow. 

 Fraser stared at the delicate flower as a second drop of blood fell. And
a third. The rose slipped from his fingers to land in the snow, which
began to turn red as the blood continued to flow. 

 Fraser bolted upright in bed with a strangled gasp. The sweat that
drenched his body and the bed beneath him was due to more than just the
late-Spring heat, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to slow down his
pounding heart. When he opened them once more, it was to find Diefenbaker
sitting beside the bed, a concerned look on his face. 

 "It was just a nightmare." 

 Diefenbaker lay down again, but continued to watch him. 

 Fraser got out of bed and walked over to the window without turning on
the light. The sun was only just beginning to rise up over the horizon,
the city landscape still blanketed in darkness. He leaned against the
wall, exhausted before the day even began, and gazed out into the world
beyond. 

 It took a moment for the Canadian to realize his eyes had settled on a
figure in the shadows across the street. When he did, his heart began
pounding anew. Although he couldn't make out the person's features with
his eyes, his soul recognized her instantly. 

 Victoria. 

 He hesitated only a moment before turning abruptly from the window and
hastily throwing on a pair of jeans, then quickly slipped on and laced up
his workboots. He was still shrugging into his shirt as he slammed the
door behind him and raced down the stairs. Throwing open the door to his
building, he ran across the street, eyes only leaving the place he had
last seen her for a second to make sure he was not running into oncoming
traffic. If she ran again, he wanted to be certain he could follow her. 

 But she didn't run this time. 

 Breathing heavily, he stopped before the figure still in the shadows,
part of his mind wondering if he were somehow imagining things. He had to
know... 

 "Victoria?" 

 She stepped out into the dawning light. 

 "Hello, Ben." 

 As the light hit her features, Fraser was taken aback by the changes. Her
long, curly hair had been cut short and was unkempt. New lines had etched
their way into her drawn Grecian features. She was thinner than the last
time he'd seen her, and even in the dim light, he could see how pale she
was. 

 "Victoria--" 

 His concern was readily apparent. "Not yet. There are so many things I
have to tell you, Ben. But not here. Can we go someplace to talk?" 

 

 Can I trust her again? a small voice whispered in the back of his mind.
But the voice was rapidly drowned out by that of his heart. Can I let her
go a third time? 

 He nodded silently. 

 She slipped a trembling hand into his and they started off down the
street in silence. Fraser led her to the park a few blocks away, but by
the time they reached it, Victoria seemed exhausted. They sat down on an
empty bench and Fraser gave her time to recover. 

 After a few minutes she started to speak. "When you turned me in after
that bank job, I hated you. I hated you for betraying me -- for betraying
our love. I never once took the blame for any of it." 

 She stared down at the ground in front of her, head bowed, but Fraser
watched her intently, reading her emotions by concentrating on her voice;
that voice that had mesmerized him so long ago, but was now with only a
fraction of its former strength. 

 "I spent every moment of every day planning my revenge. When I was
released, I knew exactly were you were -- my sister had been keeping tabs
on you. Her death wasn't planned, but I used it for all it was worth. My
own sister." 

 "Victoria--" 

 "No, let me say it," she finally looked up at him. "Please." 

 Fraser nodded. 

 "When I got here, and saw you... You were still the same. So open, so
vulnerable. It should have been so easy to hurt you -- set you up and
leave you hanging. But I never realized how strong our love was until I
saw you again... and we made love. That's when things began falling apart.
It became that much harder to go through with my plans -- I didn't want to
leave you anymore, I wanted you to go with me. But I had to have my
revenge. You ruined my life, and you had to pay for that. 

 "So I started changing my plans, to leave you with no other option but to
come with me, dishonored and disgraced. And it almost worked. But Ray..."
She looked away. 

 "When you fell away from the train, I thought you were dead. And I knew
then how wrong I'd been, what my mistakes had truly cost me. But it was
too late." 

 "Then why come back now, Victoria?" Fraser forced the words past the lump
in his throat. "After all this time." 

 "I thought about coming back sooner," she answered him, once again
meeting his gaze. "When I found out you'd survived, I started making plans
again. I wanted you to be with me so much. But things were different this
time. I was afraid I'd get caught and wind up back in prison... and I was
afraid you'd hate me after what I'd done, and turn me over again yourself.
Then," her voice broke. "Then I got sick." 

 Fraser's guilt nearly overwhelmed him. How can I possibly make up to her
all the pain I've caused her? 

 "Victoria, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I chose my duty over our love. With that
one decision I destroyed a soul so beautiful, a soul I had come to love so
deeply... I've regretted that decision since the moment I made it." 

 Victoria reached up and placed her fingertips gently on his lips,
quieting him, then slipped her hand down into his. "No, Ben. I've thought
about things a lot lately, and you did the right thing twelve years ago by
turning me in. It was the only thing you could do." 

 Years of anguish hoarsened his voice. "I could have let you go." 

 "If you had, you would have betrayed everything that makes you the
special person you are," she replied gently. "You would have lost
everything -- your career, your honor, your self-respect. You would have
come to hate me for making you forsake your duty, just as I thought I
hated you for forsaking our love." 

 "I never meant to do that," he whispered, acknowledging the truth in her
words. 

 "I know." 

 They sat quietly for a while, needing some time to recover from the
emotional upheaval. Fraser didn't want to admit, even to himself, how
deeply her actions last year had hurt him, but her explanation did allow
him to understand why she had done it. The guilt had weighed heavily on
him, and he blamed himself for her acts of revenge. Her forgiveness might
not totally erase the regret he would hold in his heart for the rest of
his life, but it made it a bit more bearable. But while he was grateful
for the opportunity to clear things up between them, their future was far
from certain. 

 "Victoria, there are still outstanding warrants for your arrest," Fraser
said softly, the situation nearly unbearable. Had she come back to him
only for him to lose her once more? 

 "I know," she replied, giving his hand a small squeeze. "But this time I
won't ask you to let me go, Ben. You see, that decision has already been
taken out of your hands." 

 He looked at her blankly for a moment, then read the truth in her eyes. 

 "Ben, I have AIDS..." 

 ********** 

 Ray sat at his desk, sipping his lukewarm coffee, only halfheartedly
working on the open file before him. He hadn't gotten much sleep last
night, and what little sleep he did get had 

 been plagued by disturbing images he could no longer remember. He was
worried about the Mountie. He didn't know if he'd managed to get through
to his friend last night, feeling inadequate when it came to discussing
such deep emotions. But even if Fraser decides not to meet with her, that
probably won't stop Victoria from going through with whatever scheme she's
cooked up this time. 

 The sudden ringing of his telephone jarred his already frayed nerves, and
he snatched it up before it could ring a second time. 

 "What?" 

 "Detective Vecchio, this is Inspector Thatcher at the Canadian Consulate.
Have you spoken to Constable Fraser today?" 

 Ray frowned, a sinking feeling in his gut. "No, why?" 

 "He hasn't shown up for work today, and I was wondering if perhaps you
knew what the problem was?" 

 No, but I can make a pretty good guess. "Uh, he wasn't feeling well last
night," Ray replied quickly, going with the first lie that popped into his
mind. "We went to the Cubs game and he ate a hot dog that didn't agree
with him." 

 "Well, you think he could have called in to let me know that," Thatcher
said reproachfully. 

 "I'm sure he meant to call you," Ray protested mildly, not wanting to
overplay his part. "He probably just wasn't up to making the trip out to
the nearest payphone." 

 "How anyone can live in this day and age without a phone is beyond me,"
she mumbled quietly, then cleared her throat. "All right, today is Friday,
and he is off for the weekend, so I'll let it slide this time. But be sure
to tell him that I expect him to contact me Monday morning if he's still
under the weather, is that understood?" 

 "Uh, sure thing, Inspector." 

 Thatcher hung up without saying good-bye. 

 Ray slammed the phone back into its cradle. "Damn it!" 

 He jumped to his feet and left the squad room. 

 ***** 

 The drive to Fraser's apartment was made in record time, and he didn't
even feel the two-flight climb this time as he rushed up the stairs and
banged loudly on the door. "Fraser, you in there?" 

 Ray thought back to the last time he had received a call from the
Consulate when Fraser had failed to show up for work. He'd found it
amusing, and a bit scandalous, considering the Mountie's uptight
personality, that it had been because he'd spent the night with a woman
that work had slipped Fraser's mind. But the amusement had quickly
disappeared when they became trapped in the web Victoria had been weaving.


 He wondered what her plan was this time? 

 He reached out to check the doorknob, and opened the door when he found
it unlocked. Why did Fraser bother putting locks on his door when he never
used them? 

 Diefenbaker greeted him at the door with an anxious whine. Ray glanced
around the small apartment, finding no signs of struggle. The unmade bed
indicated Fraser had left in quite a hurry. He turned back to the wolf,
who was following him closely. 

 "What is it, Dief? Benny forget to take you for a walk this morning?" 

 The wolf barked. 

 Ray continued to look around, but nothing appeared to be missing that
would indicate the Canadian was not planning on coming back. Finding
Diefenbaker still in the apartment made it almost a certainty that Fraser
intended to return. 

 Finally, he took pity on the animal. "Okay, boy. I'll take you for a
walk. Then we can both wait for Fraser to come back." 

 He let the wolf exit the apartment, then shut the door behind them. 

 ********** 

 Fraser was startled to find Ray sitting at his kitchen table when he
entered his apartment. His already knotted stomach tightened even more
when he took a good look at the expression on the Italian's face. He
knows. 

 "Ray, what are you doing here?" he asked anyway, closing the door behind
him, but not moving away from it. 

 "Thatcher called me a couple of hours ago," Ray replied, his voice
carefully neutral. "Said you didn't show up to work this morning." 

 "What did you tell her?" 

 "That you ate a bad hot dog at the game last night, and weren't feeling
well." Ray got to his feet. "But we both know that wasn't the real reason,
don't we?" 

 Fraser dropped his gaze. 

 "You've seen her, haven't you?" 

 The Mountie remained silent. 

 Ray took the non-reply as a 'yes.' "And?" 

 Fraser raised his head, meeting Ray's stormy green eyes. Victoria's words
came back to him. "Promise me, Ben -- don't tell anyone." Firming his
resolve, Fraser moved to the closet and pulled out his rucksack. 

 "I don't believe you?!" Ray was incredulous. "After everything she did
last time, how can you go with her now?" 

 "I won't be gone long," Fraser said softly, rolling two pairs of jeans
and slipping them inside the knapsack. 

 "Fraser, why are you throwing away your career on this woman? She's a
murderer and a thief!" 

 "And she's sorry." 

 "Oh, well, that makes everything okay, then!" came the American's
sarcastic reply. "If you go with her, and you get caught, your life is
over, you know that." 

 Fraser paused in his packing a few shirts into the rucksack, glancing up.
"I know." 

 Ray moved suddenly, coming up and gripping him by the wrist and
preventing him from stuffing another shirt into the knapsack. His voice
was ice as he said, "You know, you're really something. You told me not
too long ago that a cop who doesn't think is dangerous. It's fine for you
to go around trampling through other people's lives, forcing them to
conform to your high-and-mighty sense of morals, just as long as you don't
have to follow them yourself, right?" 

 "Ray--" Ray's grip on his wrist tightened, and Fraser fell silent. 

 "I've gone through hell for you -- putting up with your all stupid
idiosyncrasies, all the favors you ask me, and putting my life on hold for
all the strange cases you get me involved in. I've lied for you, blown up
my car for you, and mortgaged my house for you - - my home, which I almost
lost when you tried to run off with her last time. But this is where I
draw the line. You wanna be with Victoria? Fine. But if you do, don't
expect me to come and bail you out of whatever it is she's getting you
involved in this time." 

 Ray released Fraser's arm and moved towards the door. 

 "Ray, wait," Fraser called out. "Please, let me try and explain--" 

 Ray turned abruptly. "No, Fraser, I don't wanna hear it. You've made your
choice." 

 And with that he left, the door slamming shut in finality. 

 Fraser stood staring at the door, knowing that his life was once again
slipping out of his control, but powerless to do anything about it. Fraser
felt torn, forced to choose between his best friend and the woman he
loved. He could only hope that Ray would eventually be able to forgive
him. 

 He finished packing, took one final glance around the apartment, then
made eye contact with the wolf. "Dief, there's something we need to
discuss..." 

 When they left the apartment ten minutes later, Fraser wondered briefly
if they would ever make it back here again. 

 ********** 

 Fraser climbed the stairs in the seedy hotel where Victoria had taken a
room, Diefenbaker following closely behind him. Noise from the other rooms
filtered through the walls, but he did his best to ignore it. When he
reached her room, he knocked on the door to announce himself. A full
minute elapsed before it was opened. 

 Diefenbaker began growling almost immediately, baring his teeth, and
Victoria took an unconscious step backward in fear. 

 "Diefenbaker," Fraser warned, glancing down at him. "Remember what we
discussed." 

 The wolf stopped growling, but did not look any less menacing. Fraser
sighed and entered the room and Diefenbaker grudgingly followed. 

 "Why did you bring him here?" Victoria asked nervously. The last time she
had been in the same room with Diefenbaker, she had shot him. From the
animal's reaction to seeing her again, she knew the incident had not been
forgotten. 

 Fraser put his rucksack down next to the door. "I had no place else to
leave him. Besides, we had a very long discussion, and we've come to an
understanding. Haven't we, Diefenbaker?" 

 Dief looked up at him, then crossed to the far side of the room and lay
down. 

 He glanced from the wolf back to Victoria, then shrugged. "Well,
admittedly he's not too happy about the situation, but he at least has
agreed not to cause trouble." 

 Victoria swayed slightly and Fraser moved to her side, helping her back
to the room's only bed. Their brief conversation had depleted her waning
strength and she was asleep in seconds. 

 Fraser took the opportunity to unpack and survey his new surroundings.
The room was bare, with only the bed, a chair, and small dresser. Atop the
dresser was a small electric burner, a dish, glass, and one set of eating
utensils. The room had a small bathroom, with only a sink and commode.
While the conditions of the room were not filthy, they were far from
sanitary. It pained him to see her living under such conditions. Now he
began to understand why people visiting his own apartment for the first
time always remarked, "You live like this?" 

 He looked at Victoria in a deep sleep on the bed, her features washed-out
and drawn, then moved to the window. The room had a wonderful view of the
trash-strewned alley, yet Fraser never saw it. His thoughts had turned
inward to the world of the mind, and there he saw the healthy, vibrant
woman who had captured his heart. 

 ********** 

 When Ray arrived home from work that evening, Francesca was waiting for
him at the door, dressed in another one of her mini- dresses that left
little to the imagination, her hair nicely upswept. 

 She glanced around him, expecting to see Fraser bringing up the rear, and
frowned when she realized her brother was alone. "Where's Benton?" 

 "He's not coming," Ray said shortly, moving past her and into the living
room. 

 She followed him. "Why not? You said he was coming to dinner 

 tonight. Did you do something to make him change his mind?" 

 "No, Frannie. He changed his mind all by himself," Ray replied, his voice
tinged with annoyance. "If I were you I'd forget about him. He's got other
things on his mind." 

 "Other things," Francesca questioned, confusion and anger vying for
control. "What other things? Ray, what are you talking about?" 

 "Just drop it, Frannie, okay? I don't want to talk about it." 

 Mrs. Vecchio came into the room. "Oh, good. You're home. Where's Fraser?"


 Ray's temper snapped. "Look, he's not coming, all right?! Just lay off." 

 He turned abruptly and stomped up the stairs, leaving two very bewildered
Vecchio women behind. 

 Once alone in his room, he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm
down. His mother and sister hadn't deserved to bear the brunt of his
anger. The anger was merely the defense mechanism he employed to cover up
the sense of betrayal he felt. The last time Fraser had abandoned
everything he'd worked so hard for it had been a decision made impulsively
-- in the heat of the moment. A person could be forgiven for acting
irrationally under extreme circumstances. 

 Ray moved over to the window, watching as the El made it's way along the
elevated tracks. But this time... Fraser had the opportunity to think
things out this time, and had decided to leave anyway. 

 His decision hurt Ray. Deeply. 

 He had told Fraser once that he was worried Victoria would come between
their friendship. It was something neither of them would ever have thought
possible. 

 It might have taken an extra year, but it looked as if Ray's warning was
finally coming true. 

 ********** 

 Inspector Margaret Thatcher entered her office and closed the door. She
had come into the Consulate early this Monday morning to put the finishing
touches on a report she had to present later on that morning. Therefore,
she was a bit startled to find Constable Fraser seated in one of the
chairs before her desk. 

 "Constable, you are in my office without permission... again." 

 Fraser got up from the chair and turned to face her. "Yes, Inspector, I
realize that, and I do apologize for the intrusion, however I needed to
speak with you privately--" 

 "You're also out of uniform," she cut him off impatiently, noticing how
his jeans seemed to fit well in all the right places. Clearing her throat,
she moved around him to stand on the other side of the room, placing the
desk between them. "What is it you needed to discuss with me so urgently
that it couldn't wait until normal working hours?" 

 "Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid I will be unable to report for duty this week, as
was previously scheduled." 

 She frowned. "Why not?" 

 Fraser hesitated a moment before replying, "I'd rather not say, ma'am." 

 Thatcher shook her head in disbelief. "You'd rather not say? Well, I'm
sorry, Constable. If you won't give me a valid reason for needing leave, I
can't grant it to you. Dismissed." 

 She sat down and opened the report, stopping when she realized he was not
leaving. She sighed. "I'm still waiting to hear a reason, Fraser." 

 Fraser remained silent. 

 She finally looked up at him, noticing the tired look on his face.
Vecchio said he was sick on Friday. Maybe something is seriously wrong.
"Fraser, are you all right?" 

 He eased his rigid stance slightly. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you kindly for
asking. Inspector, I understand this is very short notice, but if it were
not a matter of some urgency, I would not be making the request." 

 "How much time will you need?" 

 Again, he hesitated. "Perhaps a week, ma'am." 

 She debated with herself silently for a few moments. When she had first
accepted this position, the many off-the-record comments she'd heard about
Fraser put her off, not to mention the fact that he was essentially in
exile here in Chicago for turning in corrupt RCMP officials -- something
guaranteed to hinder any further advancement in his career. But after
having worked with him for several months, she now knew he was a
dedicated, if somewhat unorthodox, officer who truly believed that he
could make a positive difference in the lives of those around him. His
methods might leave something to be desired, but his heart was always in
the right place. 

 "Permission granted." 

 His face remained carefully neutral, but she could see the smile in his
eyes. "Understood. Thank you, ma'am." 

 "Dismissed." 

 She watched him as he left her office, then with a smile and a shake of
her head, she returned to work. 

 ********** 

 Fraser brought a cup of steaming tea to Victoria, who was sitting in the
chair by the window, watching life go on around her. 

 "Here, try to drink this." 

 She took the mug with trembling hands and brought it to her lips, taking
a tentative sip. She made a face, handing it back to him. "I can't." 

 "Victoria, you haven't eaten or drank anything all day. You have to keep
up your strength." 

 "What does it matter?" She saw the hurt expression in his eyes and was
immediately repentant. "I'm sorry, Ben. I don't want to leave you, but I'm
just so tired..." 

 He picked her up and carried her to the bed, wrapping her warmly beneath
the covers. But before he could sit down beside her, she said, "Ben, can
you go to the closet and get the brown knapsack on the top shelf?" 

 Fraser complied, bringing it to her without opening it. 

 "No, it's for you." 

 He opened it to find several small bundles of cash. He met her gaze.
"From the bank robbery?" 

 Victoria nodded. "I want you to give it back for me. I couldn't spend any
of it. There's also a note inside, telling them that you and Ray really
didn't do all those things last year. I know you must have already been
cleared, but it was something I had to do. Do you understand?" 

 He put the bag down and joined her on the bed, settling down beside her.
"I understand." 

 They sat quietly for several minutes, then Victoria looked up at him.
"Ben, about that promise you made -- not telling anyone about me?" 

 "Yes?" 

 "I want you to break it after I'm gone. You'll need someone to talk to
about... everything. Don't keep it all bottled up inside. Okay?" 

 Fraser nodded silently. 

 "And when you talk to Ray, tell him I'm sorry." 

 "I will." 

 She settled against his chest. "Good. Now, tell me more about your time
here in the big city?" 

 If fate was preventing them from sharing their future together, Fraser
was more than willing to share with her his past. It was also a pleasant
way to pass what little time they had left. The corner of his mouth
quirked upwards involuntarily. 

 "Well, one time, when Ray took me shopping in a large supermarket, I
discovered that horsemeat was being sold as beef..." 

 ********** 

 Ray deposited his coins in the vending machine and waited a few moments
for his cup of coffee. The thick sludge that he found in the cup turned
his stomach and he spilled some out into the trash, then watered it down
until it was more palatable. 

 Elaine was waiting for him at his desk when he returned. "Here's the
information from Motor Vehicles that you wanted." 

 Ray took the file from her, opening it up and scanning its contents. 

 "How's Fraser? I haven't seen him around here in a few days." 

 Neither have I, thought Ray with a pang of sadness. Annoyed by his own
reaction, his words were a bit sharper than he intended as he replied,
"How should I know? I'm not his baby-sitter." 

 Elaine's eyebrows rose, taken aback by the detective's response. 

 Detective Huey, sitting at his desk, overheard Vecchio's comment. "Oooh,
trouble in paradise?" 

 Ray glared daggers at him. "Knock it off, Jack." 

 "What happened?" the black man continued as he got up and joined them,
"the Mountie dump you for a girlfriend or something?" 

 Ray straightened in his chair, his mouth suddenly dry, as Huey
unknowingly hitting the nail directly on the head. 

 Huey snorted, not noticing the Italian's reaction. "What am I saying.
Fraser wouldn't know what to do with a woman if--" 

 "What's going on here?" Lieutenant Welsh inquired as he joined the small
group. 

 "Vecchio had a fight with the M--" 

 "My mother, sir," Ray said, cutting him off. "You know how mothers are --
nag, nag, nag." 

 Welsh's beady eyes didn't miss much. "Well, if you're done wasting the
taxpayer's money, Huey, I'd like to see you in my office." 

 "Yes, sir," the detective replied as they began across the room. 

 Elaine waited until they had entered the office before turning back to
Ray once more. "Ray?" 

 "What?" Ray's voice was full of annoyance. 

 "Are you okay?" 

 Ray bit back his sarcastic reply. She was serious in her concern for him,
and it served to cool his anger somewhat. He gave her a small smile before
answering. "I've been better." 

 She returned the smile. "Well, you take care of yourself. It's not just
Fraser I care about." 

 Ray watched her in silence as she went back to her desk. 

 ********** 

 Fraser sat on the bed beside Victoria, his legs stretched out in front of
him, as he read to her from one of the books he'd brought with him.
Victoria lay propped up on pillows so she could breathe easier, and
despite the warm temperature in the room, she was chilled beneath two
blankets. She was completely bedridden now, and both knew time was growing
short. 

 "Ben," she said quietly, halting his words mid-sentence. "There's
something I need to tell you." 

 Fraser closed the book, placing it on his lap. "What is it?" 

 "Before I tell you, promise me you won't hate me," her voice took on an
anxious tone. "I only did what I thought was best." 

 Fraser turned his body sideways, so he could face her. "Victoria, calm
down. You need to stay calm." 

 "Promise me, Ben." 

 "I promise," Fraser replied, trying to ignore his growing apprehension.
"You can tell me anything." 

 "It was three months after... my time in Chicago. I wasn't feeling well,
so I went to see a doctor. He was the one who told me I had AIDS. It's a
standard test they run on... On a woman who thinks she is pregnant." 

 Fraser froze, color draining from his face. Three months? his stunned
mind whispered. Does that mean... 

 "The child was yours, Ben," she supplied as if she had read his mind.
"You are the only man I've been with since I was released from prison." 

 Fraser sat in stunned silence as she related her story. 

 "The doctor gave me the bad news, and few options. He told me I wasn't
just HIV+, but that I was already in the advanced stages of AIDS. I had a
particularly aggressive strain of the virus, and probably only had about a
year to live. I didn't believe him -- I hadn't been sick at all. He told
me that didn't mean my T-Cell count couldn't have deteriorated to such a
low point anyway." 

 Fraser heart ached, his emotions in turmoil, as his thoughts collided
with one another with dizzying speed. But then one word finally caught his
attention, and he focused on it. "Was?" 

 "The doctor told me that the stress of pregnancy would be too much for
me, and that it would be unlikely that I would survive to deliver. But I
didn't care. The baby was the only part of you I had left, Ben, and I
wanted it to survive. 

 "I started getting really sick, but I couldn't risk going to see a
specialist. I rode it out as best I could, but... The doctor wanted me to
get an abortion. He said the baby had a 30% chance of having AIDS, too, or
could get it during delivery. But I couldn't do it. It had hurt so much to
lose you. If I couldn't be alive to give our child a happy life, I knew
you would. You'd make a wonderful father. But it just wasn't meant to be. 

 "Our son was six months old when I lost him." 

 Fraser felt as if he'd been pole-axed, his heart so heavy he thought it
would burst. A son? Victoria was crying now, and he pushed his own
reaction to the back of his mind as he held onto her, rocking her gently. 

 "I wanted to tell you before -- when we first talked -- but I was afraid.
Afraid if you knew, you'd hate me, and never want to see me again. I
couldn't take that chance, Ben. There was so little time left!" 

 "You tried your best, Victoria," he said quietly, stroking her hair with
his fingertips. "There was nothing more you could have done." 

 "You don't hate me?" she asked, her voice hopeful. 

 "No, Victoria. I don't hate you. I could never hate you." 

 "I'm so sorry, Ben..." she whispered, holding on to him a bit tighter. 

 A single tear slipped down his cheek. "So, am I, Victoria... So am I." 

 ********** 

 Fraser was roused from a fitful sleep by the harsh sound of Victoria's
labored breathing. He sat up, then helped her to a sitting position,
leaning her against his chest. Her skin was cool and dry to the touch. But
the upraised position did not ease her difficulty. 

 "Ben," she gasped, her voice barely recognizable. 

 "Shhhhh, Victoria," he cautioned, his stomach knotting. 

 "I want... outside..." 

 Fraser wondered if she was completely conscious. "But--" 

 She tried to turn her head to face him, but lacked the strength to move
more than a fraction of an inch. "Please... I want... see the sun... one
last time." 

 Fraser propped some pillows behind her, then slipped from the bed to put
on some clothes. He then wrapped a blanket around her and lifted her from
the bed. He carried her up to the roof of the building, settling down in
the corner where the view was to the east. Her breathing was becoming even
more labored. 

 He held her tightly, knowing that she would soon be lost to him forever.
He gently turned her head so she could see him. 

 Forcing back tears, he whispered to her, "I love you, Victoria." Leaning
forward, he kissed her tenderly on the lips. 

 A single tear slid down her cheek. "Love... you." 

 It was all she could manage to say in words, but her eyes told him so
much more. 

 After a few moments, he turned her head again so she could see the sun
rising up between the buildings. He rested his cheek against the top of
her head. 

 The silence of the new dawning day was broken only by the sound of
Fraser's quiet voice. 

 I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
   dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn falcon, in his riding
   Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
 High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
 In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
   As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
   Rebuffed big wind. My heart in hiding
 Stirred for a bird,--the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
 

 Brute beauty and valor and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
   Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
 Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
 

 No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion
   Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
 Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
 

 He recited the poem over and over -- long after Victoria was no longer
able to hear it. 

 ********** 

 Ray paused in his task of filling out yet another form in the long line
of endless bureaucratic paperwork. He had just wrapped up another dull
case that had taken more of his time than he could afford, and he was
bored. The entire week seemed to drag, with little excitement to break up
the monotony. Ray knew the reason why. 

 He missed Fraser. 

 The Mountie's presence always seemed to put an odd slant on his cases,
turning normally routine arrests into major feats of crimesolving. With
Fraser around, you never knew what would happen during the course of an
investigation. 

 Ray straightened when he saw the object of his contemplations enter the
squad room. Fraser walked directly to Lt. Welsh's office, his eyes not
straying from his destination. He was not in uniform, but dressed in jeans
and a shirt, and his normally well- groomed hair was in slight disarray.
He carried a small knapsack in his right hand. Ray's curiosity got the
better of him. I wonder what's going on? 

 Fraser knocked on the office door, entering a moment later. 

 Ray watched them through the blinds for several moments. Fraser stood at
attention before Welsh's desk as he spoke to the Lieutenant. Finally Ray
forced his eyes back down to the file on his desk. I'm no longer talking
to him, so why should I care why he's doing here? 

 But a few minutes later, his eyes strayed back to the office window of
their own volition. 

 ***** 

 Harding Welsh stared up at the Mountie standing at attention before him,
digesting the story he had just been told. At one point Welsh might have
questioned the Canadian's penchant for getting himself into the most
unusual situations, but after having known him for two years, he now
simply considered it par for the course. Truth be told, Welsh had gotten
used to the Canadian officer complicating his life -- showing up in his
precinct at odd hours with even odder crime fighting methods that often
left him wondering, if Fraser was a typical officer, how the RCMP managed
to function at all. But however unorthodox his methods, the Mountie often
apprehended the criminals he was after. 

 But this was one time he wished his life wasn't quite so complicated. He
wondered if, right now, Fraser felt the same way. 

 Welsh opened the knapsack and inspected the contents. "And this is the
rest of the money from that Alaskan bank job?" 

 "Yes, sir," Fraser replied, his voice cool and detached. "It was Miss
Metcalf's request to make restitution before... before her death." 

 "Where is the body now?" 

 "At the hotel, sir. Diefenbaker is guarding the room to insure the
integrity of the crime scene while I notified the authorities and turned
myself over to you for harboring a fugitive." 

 "One thing at a time, Constable," Welsh replied as he picked up the phone
and punched in a number. "Yes, I'd like a forensic team and medical
examiner sent to 12131 West Becker Street, room 4e. I'll meet them there."
He hung up and climbed to his feet, locking the money in his desk drawer.
"Come with me." 

 Fraser opened the door for him and followed towards the exit. 

 ***** 

 At his desk, Ray watched the two men leave. 

 ***** 

 Diefenbaker moved from his position in front of the door when he saw
Fraser and Lieutenant Welsh approaching. Fraser allowed the American to
enter first, then followed, standing just inside the doorway as not to
impede the man's investigation. 

 Welsh moved immediately to the body on the bed, which was covered with
the white bed sheet. Casting a quick glance at Fraser he pulled the sheet
back to reveal the face. She looked very different from her mug shot, but
there was no doubt that it was Victoria Metcalf. 

 The medical examiner arrived, the forensic team trailing behind her, and
Welsh was relieved to see Esther Pearson had been assigned this case. 

 "What have we got?" she asked, wondering why the police lieutenant was
personally in charge of the case. 

 "Fugitive wanted for murder and conspiracy, believed to have died from
AIDS. I'll need an immediate autopsy to confirm cause of death." 

 She nodded, sensing there was more going on here than she knew about.
"All right. Barring complications, I'll have a report for you by the end
of the day." 

 He stepped back to allow her to get to work, and moved back to the
doorway to address one of his men. "Officer Weston, I want you to make a
clean sweep of the place. Constable Fraser, would you please identify for
us your own personal possessions?" 

 "Yes, sir," Fraser replied. "I brought with me two pairs of jeans, three
shirts, the two books over on the floor beside the bed, and Diefenbaker's
water bowl and food." 

 "You got that?" 

 The officer nodded. 

 "Weston, I'll want your report A.S.A.P." 

 

 "Yes, sir." 

 "I think that's all we're needed for here. Constable, if you'll return
with me to the station." 

 Fraser nodded. "Come on, Diefenbaker." 

 The three of them left the others to their work. 

 ********** 

 Fraser glanced at his watch again. It was only 3 PM, yet the day felt as
if it had dragged on for a lifetime. Welsh had asked him to wait in the
interrogation room while the investigation continued. 

 That was over four hours ago. 

 Elaine had brought in a small paper bowl filled with water for the wolf,
and a pitcher and glass for himself, earlier that morning. The expression
on her face was one of concern, but she refrained from asking any
questions, and for that Fraser was grateful. The truth would come out soon
enough, and when it did, Fraser knew that life as he knew it would be
over. He would be dishonorably discharged from the RCMP almost
immediately, that much he knew, and he would most likely have to serve
some time in prison. 

 Assuming he survived that, he would probably return home to the Yukon. To
do what, however, he had no idea. 

 Fraser wondered why he had yet to be formally charged. He would have
thought State's Attorney St. Laurent would have been chomping at the bit
to throw the book at him. Her dislike of him had been instantaneous when
she had first tried to have him arrested during Victoria's brief stay in
Chicago last year, but since she had started seeing Ray occasionally
during non-working hours, she had mellowed towards him somewhat. 

 The door to the interrogation room opened and Lt. Welsh entered, closing
the door behind him. Fraser rose, standing at attention, meeting the man's
gaze straight on. 

 "Constable, this department has concluded its investigation, and has
determined that Victoria Metcalf died of natural causes, as a result of
Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. Restitution has been made to the
First National Bank of Alaska, and no evidence of further criminal
activity was found. The case has been officially closed. You are free to
go." 

 "But, sir," Fraser began, confusion strong on his features. "What about
my failure to turn Miss Metcalf immediately over to the authorities?" 

 "Constable, you are an officer of the law, are you not?" 

 "Yes, sir, but not in this--" 

 Welsh cut him off. "And did this woman place herself under your
protective custody when she arrived here in Chicago?" 

 Fraser remained silent. 

 "I have informed the State's Attorneys Office that you were acting on
behalf of the Chicago Police Department, and this office, in taking
custody of a prisoner who was too ill to be moved. You performed your duty
well under extreme circumstances, and reported the incident as soon as was
possible. Therefore, you are free to go." 

 Fraser stood still, stunned at the sudden turn of events. He had known
from the beginning what his decision would cost him, and was unable to
believe that the Lieutenant would go so far as to perpetrate a deceit on
his behalf. It was more than an act of standing behind one of his men, if
Fraser could even be considered as such -- the man was risking his own
career. 

 "Thank you, sir," Fraser said quietly, gratitude showing in his eyes. 

 Welsh nodded, then turned and left the room, leaving the door open behind
him. 

 Fraser, at somewhat of a loss, glanced down at Diefenbaker, who was
watching him intently. "We're free to go," he said quietly, still not
quite able to believe it. But there was no joy in his heart for the
reprieve, only sadness at the reminder of why he had needed it in the
first place. 

 There was one more duty left to perform. "Come on, Diefenbaker." 

 ********** 

 Ray sat watching the television, drinking a beer straight from the bottle
and wondering when the thunderstorm raging outside was going to knock out
the electricity. It was well after midnight and he was exhausted, but
sleep was proving illusive. 

 During the course of the day's work he'd driven past Fraser's apartment
building, and had been tempted to stop and see if the Mountie was home.
But he had forced himself to drive on. Ever since he'd seen Fraser at the
station yesterday morning, the Canadian had been on his mind. He'd tried
to bring it up to the lieutenant, but Welsh was being unusually
close-mouthed about the incident. Something had obviously gone on between
the two men. Maybe I was wrong to leave Benny to handle this all by
himself, Ray wondered. But then his Italian temper kicked in. I tried to
warn him -- Victoria's just no good for him. But did he listen to me?
Hell, no! 

 But did you listen to him about Frankie when Irene came back to town? his
conscience prodded gently, and Ray's heart saddened once again at the loss
of the woman he loved. 

 "Maybe this love thing isn't all it's cracked up to be," he murmured into
his beer bottle, taking another swig. 

 The quiet knock on his door barely registered beneath the sound of the
heavy downpour outside. Ray put the bottle down and went to open it,
taking his gun with him. Who the hell could it be at this time of night?
Ray opened the door. 

 It was Fraser. 

 "What do you want?" Ray asked, anger once again rising. 

 "Ray, can I talk to you?" 

 "What for? Shouldn't you be home with Victoria right now?" He was being
mean and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. 

 The sky lit up suddenly, and Ray got his first good look at Fraser. The
Canadian was soaking wet, clothes clinging to him. Dark shadows beneath
eyes set in a face pale and gaunt spoke of exhaustion. But it was the
haunted look in those normally clear blue eyes that gave Ray pause. He'd
seen that look before, facing back at him in his own bathroom mirror. 

 "She's dead, Ray." 

 The words were barely audible beneath the heavy rain. 

 Oh no... Ray thought, his earlier anger forgotten in the face of his
friend's pain. He glanced back over his shoulder and thought of inviting
Fraser inside, but knowing his family's habit for midnight snacks, decided
that they needed someplace with a bit more privacy. 

 Leaving his gun behind, he said, "Come on." 

 He dashed for the Riviera, scrambling inside the car and slamming the
door. Fraser followed a bit more slowly. Once inside, they sat in silence
for a time, Ray giving his friend the time he needed to collect his
thoughts. 

 "I saw her that morning. She was across the street, watching my
apartment. We went to the park and talked. She really was sorry for what
she did, Ray. She came back now because she... She found out she was
dying, and didn't want to die alone." 

 The pain in his voice was heartrending and Ray was starting to feel
ashamed that he had let his temper keep him from standing by his friend. 

 "I wanted to tell you, Ray. You were so angry with me. I didn't want to
lose your friendship, but she asked me not to tell anyone, and I'd given
her my word. I owed her that much. 

 "She was so sick. In two days she was completely bedridden. She couldn't
keep anything down. I think... I think she only stayed alive as long as
she did because I was there with her. She died just after dawn on
Wednesday. Her burial was this morning. I made the arrangements -- she
didn't have any family left." 

 "I'm sorry, Benny." Ray hesitated a moment before asking, "How did she
die?" 

 "She had AIDS, Ray." 

 Ray wondered how she had managed to contract the disease while in prison
for all those years. But even if she'd merely been HIV+ while in prison,
after she was released... Ray's stomach turned over. She and Benny... Oh
my God! 

 Fraser continued. "She didn't know she had it. She only found out by
accident." 

 "Fraser," Ray asked, his voice shaking. "When she was here last year,
when you were together, did you...?" 

 Fraser's tear-filled blue eyes met his. "She was pregnant, Ray. With our
son." 

 Ray's pounding heart skipped a beat. "Oh my God..." 

 "She wanted to bring the baby to full term," Fraser explained wearily,
the fact that he might now have the fatal disease not even registering,
"but the pregnancy only made her sicker. She miscarried in her sixth
month." 

 Tears fell unnoticed down his cheeks. 

 Ray felt like he was going to be sick. He doesn't even seem to realize
that she could have given him AIDS. The thought of Fraser dying a slow,
agonizing death brought tears to Ray's eyes as well. He closed them
tightly. Dear God, please don't let him have AIDS, he prayed harder than
he'd ever prayed in his life. Please don't take him from the world too
soon. 

 "I could have taught him so many things. Given him so much more than I
had as a child. But I never had the chance. Now they're both gone... and
I'm all alone again..." 

 One crisis at a time, Ray thought as he opened his eyes. God, please
don't let me screw this up. Pushing his own feelings aside, he reached out
and placed his hand on Fraser's arm. 

 "Fraser." 

 Fraser stared blankly ahead, lost in his own private hell. 

 "Benny," Ray said again, this time giving him a small shake. Fraser
turned automatically, slowly bringing him into focus. "The love you shared
with Victoria was something very special. You both knew it the minute you
laid eyes on each other. Did anything that happened last year make you
love her any less?" 

 "No," Fraser replied, his voice shaky. 

 "Life handed you both some pretty nasty blows, but still your love
survived. I really think that it's strong enough to survive death, too. As
long as you hold your love for her in your heart, you'll never really lose
her." 

 Fraser was listening to him now, coming back from the dark place that had
taken hold of his heart. 

 "Your love created a life -- a spirit unique unto itself. If that child
had one tenth of your spirit, then he too, survives. Maybe not here,"
Ray's hand left the Canadian's arm and swung outward, indicated the world
beyond the automobile, "but in that special place where there is no pain,
no hurt, and no fear of death. I have a feeling you'll see both of them
again, Fraser. They'll be waiting for you." 

 Fraser nodded, wiping the tears away with his arm. 

 Ray sighed inwardly. One crisis averted. 

 They sat silently, each needing some time to recover. Finally, Fraser's
husky voice broke the silence. "Thanks, Ray." 

 "Anytime," Ray replied. "Just one more thing -- you're not alone, Fraser.
I'm still here, and I don't plan on going anywhere for a long time to
come. I'm sorry I acted like such a jerk before. I should have been there
for you." 

 Fraser turned to face him. "You were there for me when it mattered, Ray.
You always are." 

 Ray nodded, a sad smile on his lips. 

 ********** 

 Ray tapped out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel, glancing at his
watch for what must have been the hundredth time that hour. Fraser was in
the doctor's office inside, getting the results of his AIDS test. It had
been a long ten days since Fraser had blood taken for the test, with both
of them trying to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Even
Thatcher had remarked to him one afternoon when he'd picked up Fraser
after his shift, that the Constable didn't quite seem like himself lately.
Ray hadn't told her anything specific, but he did try his best to ease her
concern. 

 The door opened and Fraser got in the passenger seat. Ray waited until
he'd closed the door. "Well?" 

 "It was negative." 

 "Oh, thank God," breathed Ray in relief. 

 "The doctor suggested I take another test in six months, but he thought
it would be highly unlikely that I would have contracted the disease if I
hadn't already tested positive a full year after the encounter." 

 "Yeah, well I hope next time you'll think before you act." 

 "It wasn't exactly something I was planning on, Ray," Fraser replied, a
tinge of defensiveness in his voice. 

 "That's no excuse, Fraser. Too many people have lived to regret thinking
like that." 

 Fraser's eyes dropped to the floorboard. 

 "Hey, I'm sorry, Benny. I shouldn't have said that." 

 "No, Ray, you're right. The thought never occurred to either of us. I'm
afraid I wasn't thinking very clearly at the time." 

 "Yeah, well, welcome to the human race, Benny." Ray took his eyes off his
friend and surveyed the street before refocusing on him. 

 "I'm hungry. You wanna go grab a bite to eat?" 

 Fraser gave him an encouraging smile, recognizing the obvious
diversionary tactic. "I'd like that." 

 "Good. Then let's go." 

 Ray started the engine, and pulled the car away from the curb. 

 The End 

 

 "The Windhover" by Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1877. 

 

 ----- 

 Copyright 1996 by Angela Rivieccio Not intended to infringe on any
copyright holder of DUE SOUTH -- past, present or future. Do not reproduce
for anything other than personal reading pleasure without express written
consent of the author. Comments welcome at p003136b@pb.seflin.org. 

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