sacrafice     
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. 

This is just a dream I had, not much to it, but kinda sad so don't hurt
me, please. PG-13/Death Story/H/C/Angst 
  
  

By Amethyst 
Contact me at  perrymor@home.com 
   

SACRIFICE 

 
 

        Ray screamed out a warning, just as the boards gave out beneath
Fraser and a mountain of wood and earth reigned down on the Canadian. Ray
stood and finally managed to cap the man firing at them directly in the
chest as the duck boys quickly took care of the others. He scrambled to
the shaft Fraser had disappeared into and tossed his gun aside as he
frantically started digging, the duck boys and Welsh joining him a moment
later. Welsh called for something to move the dirt quicker, as Thomas and
Jack joined in Ray's digging. 
         "Fraser!" Ray screamed panicked, ignoring the pain in his hands
the sharp rocks buried in the earth were causing as they sliced his
fingers and palms. "Fraser speak to me! Hang on we're comin!" Someone
brought shovels and Welsh and Jack started to use them as Thomas and Ray
continued with their hands. After many long minutes, Welsh exchanged a
glance with the duck boys; Fraser would run out of air before they even
got near him with this much dirt. 
         "Ray." Jack tried. "Ray he...it's no use we can't...." Ray glared
at him furiously and continued digging, but the more dirt he pulled out
the more fell in, so he grabbed the shovel from Jack and threw the dirt
off frenzied. 
         "He's got excess lung capacity!" Ray stated quickly, never
looking up from his job, despite the blood that was running down his arms
from his injured hands. "He'll make it we just gotta keep diggin'!" He
glanced up at them pleading. "Please, Trust me I know dis-we just gotta
keep diggin' and he'll be okay." 
Welsh continued to dig as two more shovels were found and he and the duck
boys continued to help. Halfway down Ray tossed the shovels aside, not
wanting to hurt Fraser in case they were close, with the ragged metal, as
all four men proceeded to dig with their hands. 
        "Just hold yer breath, Frase." Ray whispered. "Christ just hold
yer breath we're almost dere." The other men exchanged another sad
look-they had been at it for almost twenty minutes, no one could hold
their breath that long, not even Fraser. 
         Suddenly something soft and tan came into view and Ray pulled
Fraser's Stetson from the dirt. He didn't allow himself the time to ponder
over it as he tossed it carefully toward Jack then continued digging. They
were close, they had to be. There couldn't have been this much dirt that
had fallen on Fraser, it was impossible.  A few minutes later, a part of a
pale face came into view and Ray cried out in relief as they frantically
brushed the dirt away from the Mountie and proceeded to pull him out of
the damned grave. They laid him on his back as Jack checked for a pulse.
He glanced at Welsh and shook his head, but Ray wasn't paying attention,
he was gently shaking Fraser, trying to get him to wake up. 
        "Com'ahn Fraser!" he was urging. "Wake up, let's see dem big blue
eyes." Silence. Welsh placed a comforting hand on the detective's shoulder
but Ray shook it off angrily. "He ain't dead." Then to Fraser he yelled.
"Yer not dead now wake up! Com'ahn Fraser yer freakin' me out here, wake
up! Open yer eyes ya freak or I swear I'll have'ta pop ya!" There was
still no movement from the Mountie. 
        "Ray..." began Tom. 
        "Shut up!" Ray screamed at him, trying to remember how to do CPR.
Pinch the nose breath into the mouth, okay, he could do this. He tilted
Fraser's head back and gently pried his lips apart, then settled his mouth
over them, breathing in his own oxygen. Two quick breaths, then press just
under the ribs. He continued this procedure, at one point murmuring
against the Mounties's mouth. "I'm buddy breathin' fer ya Fraser. Com'ahn,
com'ahn back." An ambulance arrived and two men pulled out a stretcher and
hurried over. Ray didn't stop what he was doing, even when the paramedics
tried to tell Ray it was no use. 
        "Ray he's gone." Thomas stated quietly, pain etched his own voice.
"Fraser's gone Ray, let it go." Ray shook his head. 
        "He's not dead, damnit!" Ray denied hotly, shaking Fraser again.
"Com'ahn Fraser, show-em. Wake up and show em yer not dead." He started
brushing off the dirt clinging to the red serge of Fraser's uniform,
surprised that it had stayed on the usually impeccably clean Mountie. "Ya
got some dirt on ya dere, Frase- we'll have ta get yer uniform cleaned."
He pulled the slumbering Canadian into his arms and began to rock him
gently. "Please Fraser-ya gotta wake up-Frannie'll kill me if ya don't.
Thatcher will fry my ass-please dear God let him wake up." His voice
lowered painfully. "Don't be dead Fraser. Please don't be dead buddy-yer
my best friend, I love ya." Tears were in the eyes of all the men as they
listened to Ray's pleas and watched the detective cradle the Mountie
gently in his arms. 
        Ray pressed his own face against Fraser's as it began to rain.
"Let it be me. Please take me instead God, I know I ain't as good as
Fraser, but please don't take him-it ain't his time, he's got so much left
ta do, so many people who care about him- me I wouldn't be missed. Please
God." Ray glanced down at a flash of metal next to them and carefully
maneuvered his hand down to reach for his gun, to bring it close to him,
yet unsure what to do with it, when suddenly a lightening bolt darted from
the sky and hit the pair. The blast sent the five standing men backwards
off their feet with it's force of contact and engulfed Ray and Fraser in a
frenetic display of energy. 

        Welsh was the first to awake, as he painfully struggled into an
upright position and glanced around. The other men were all spread eagle
in the dirt, still unconscious, and Welsh was trying desperately to figure
out what had happened and why he felt like he had just been hit by an
oncoming freight train. 
He shook his head as Jack and the others started to come too, then he
suddenly remembered what happened and scrambled back up to the shaft where
Fraser had fallen. He stopped suddenly, still on his hands and knees, as
he stared at the Canadian, who had indeed awakened and was now holding the
still body of Stanley Raymond Kowalski. Welsh met the tearful blue eyes as
Fraser noticed him, then shook his head, his lower lip trembling. He only
said one word. 
        "Why?" It was an agonizing, sigh of disbelief and Welsh felt fresh
tears spring to his eyes, as he moved closer. Fraser waved him back with
one hand and Welsh noticed the spark that seemed to fly around his
fingertips at the sudden movement. Welsh shook his head in awe and
realized the two men were still charged from the current that had hit
them, if that was even possible, however with what Welsh had seen just
moments before, he might believe anything was possible. 
        Both he and Kowalski were blackened and their hair was buzzed
almost straight up as though someone had been pulling on it to long.
Fraser's boots were smoldering, Ray's leather jacket had partially melted
onto the detective's inside shirt and that too was smoldering. If it
hadn't been so tragic, the scene would be amusing-like something you'd see
out of a movie. 
        Welsh spied the gun, still in Ray's hand and knew it needed to be
moved before-God forbid-lightening decided to strike again. He found some
heavy rubber gloves that a worker had left laying around and pulled them
over his large hands. He approached the pair carefully and reached for the
handle of the weapon. Fraser had to pry Ray's fingers off, before Welsh
could get it away from them. Carefully he helped Fraser lift Ray onto the
stretcher and wrap him in the white sheet offered, and then they carried
the detective to the Ambulance. 
        He rode with Fraser to the hospital, where they pronounced Ray
dead and Fraser was admitted for treatment of his shock and burns. Welsh
had tried to explain what had happened, but he couldn't-nor could the
others. Perhaps it was Welsh's belief; perhaps because he had no other
reason for it-but what they had all witnessed was a sacrifice. Ray had
pleaded with God to take his life for Fraser's and it seemed God deemed it
fit to take the detective up on his offer. It could have been a
coincidence he supposed, but either way it wasn't right. He couldn't have
chosen between them, he liked them both enormously, but Ray had made the
choice, his last choice so that Fraser would live. 
        The Lieutenant glanced in the small window of Fraser's room door,
the Mountie was having his hands and parts of his face tended to by the
nurses and doctors, but he was staring off into space. Welsh wondered if
he would survive the death of his partner, given the circumstances He
wondered if Fraser was aware of the sacrifice that Ray had made for him.
Suddenly Fraser's head turned and he locked gazes with Welsh, the pain and
guilt that Welsh saw in the blue depths told him that Fraser did know what
Ray had done and that was probably even worse than the actually loss of
his friend. His mind replayed the events 

        Fraser's hand shook as he gently closed Ray's eyes for the last
time; his body shook with grief as he tried to will the detective, his
friend and partner, to return with him to the land of the living. He
barely remembered falling into the shaft, could hear Ray's cry but was
unable to answer. Darkness had claimed him quickly and he may have hit his
head. Then his Father was there, as always and he was looking at Ray and
the others digging through the rubble and dirt for him. 
        "The yank won't give up, son." Robert Fraser insisted sadly. "It's
a shame really, I was just staring to like him." Fraser has turned to him
questioning. 
        "Do you mean....Dad, am I dead?" Robert Fraser shook his head. 
        "Not yet, Son." He assured. "You're sort of in that in between
place I told you about before." Fraser nodded and returned his attention
to his partners and the others who were attempting his rescue. Ray, he
noticed, was frantic and his hands were bleeding badly. He wanted to step
forward and tell him to stop before he injured himself further, but his
feet were rooted to his spot beside his Father. When they finally pulled
Fraser's body out, it felt quite odd to be staring at himself, as Ray
worked on him. The others tried to tell ray to give up-but his partner had
refused. 
        Then the tears had started and the pleas for Fraser to wake up.
Fraser wanted badly to return to his friend, but he could do nothing but
watch, as lightning flashed over head. He heard Ray's plea to God, heard
what he was willing to do and he did step forward then, suddenly able to
move, as he watched his partner reach for the gun at the same time the
lightening seemed to be coming toward them in slow motion. Fraser's
ghostly hand touched the barrel at the same time as Ray's and then there
was blinding light. Fraser awoke to find himself back in his body, his
Father gone; his partner dead and Welsh close to tears. All he could ask
was why? Why had Ray done this? 

        Fraser didn't know how he would survive the sacrifice Ray had made
for him. It was Fraser's own fault for running headlong into trouble that
had gotten them cornered behind the dozer. Then trying to make amends,
Fraser attempted to get to the gun man on his own, not seeing the sign
that spoke of danger, until after he had fallen into the shaft. Then,
because of his stupidity, his partner's life had been taken. He shook his
head as a tear squeezed out from his eye, he couldn't deal with it,
couldn't accept that Ray was gone, had given his life for him. He stared
bleakly out at the drizzling rain; the lightening still streaked across
the sky as he allowed his tears to flow at random. 
  

        Fraser sat at his desk staring down at a report he had finished
hours ago but had been unable to put away. It had been two weeks since his
partner's death, Fraser had been released just a few days after it
happened, and now he was at his desk, doing his work once more, as though
nothing had occurred. His duty. Damn him and his duty! It was that duty
what got Ray killed. He threw his pen down and steepled his fingers,
resting his forehead against them. He hadn't slept in days, hardly
remembered the last time he ate and he simply couldn't function the way he
used to. He didn't want it anymore, he felt none of his prior ambition to
help people and bring about justice, and without Ray there was no justice.

        He rose and opened his door to allow the wolf outside the office.
Turnbull and Inspector Thatcher had long since gone home, which left only
him and Diefenbaker. He closed the door and went to his closet, half
expecting his Father's cabin to still be there, but he had not seen or
heard from Robert Fraser since the incident. He pulled down his gun from
the top shelf and the small box of bullets that he had brought with it
from Canada so long ago. He sat on his cot and slowly loaded the gun, one
my one, bullet by bullet. 
        "No Ben." A voice whispered around him and he turned startled,
expecting to see his Father but finding no one. With a shrug he resumed
what he was doing. "Don't do it Fraser." The voice warned again and this
time Fraser could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he
stood. 
        "Who's there?" 
        "Stay Ben." The voice whispered and Fraser backed nervously toward
his door, his weapon raised. Where the hell was it coming from? 
        "Who are you? Where are you?" he demanded, refusing to show fear.
It was storming outside, reminding Fraser of the night not long ago and as
a lightening bolt streaked past the window and lit up the room he made out
a form sitting on his cot; it was Ray Kowalski. "Ray!" he breathed, having
to grab his desk to keep from going to his knees. The detective finally
raised his eyes to Fraser's a deep saddened gaze that Fraser immediately
responded to. 
        "Don't do it, buddy." Ray whispered shaking his head. "Don't give
up yet. It ain't yer time." 
        "Ray, I...I can't...it should have been me that died, not you."
Fraser insisted hoarsely, the fact that he was standing there conversing
with his dead friend no more extraordinary than talking with Robert
Fraser. If Ray could come around when he needed him as his father did then
perhaps... 
        "No, Ben." Ray refused with another shake of his head. "Did is a
one time visit buddy." Fraser slumped dejectedly. "I came ta ask ya not ta
finish what yer startin' Fraser. Please don't do it, ya got so much left
ta do here yet." 
        "What of you, Ray!" Fraser demanded angrily. "You have just as
much to do and you...it isn't fair, Ray it isn't right! You have parents,
a wife, and people who care about you...Why Ray? Why did you do it?" 
        "My folks will be fine, Fraser." Ray assured. "And Stella ain't my
wife anymore. All I really had was you buddy, and I couldn't loose that."
Ray offered him a small ghostly smile. "It was my choice ta go, I made it
free and clear. I...I want ya to go on livin' Frase, ya got a lotta work
ta do." 
        "Not without you, Ray." Fraser refused brushing away a tear
angrily. "I can't do it without you. I love you." 
        "I love ya too, buddy." Ray returned. "But things will get better,
ya just gotta hang on dere a little while yet. Good things are comin' fer
ya and I really want ya to wait and see it through. Promise me Ben,
promise me ya'll stick it out." 
        "I can't Ray." 
        "You have to. A lot of people are countin' on ya, buddy-ya can't
let' em down." Ray rose and walked to the window. "I gotta go now, Fraser.
Promise me, Ben, say you'll try a least." Fraser nodded and blinked his
eyes to slow the flood of tears. When he opened then again Ray was gone
and he started to shake. 
        "Oh, Ray." He sobbed falling to his knees, the gun dropping to the
floor as he hid his anguished face in his hands. "Don't leave me, Ray.
Please don't leave me alone-I can't stand to be alone again." Ray's final
words echoing in his head.  I love ya Buddy. Promise me Ben. 

        Fraser laid the fresh flowers on Ray Kowalski's grave, arranging
them just so against the gray marble headstone and ran his fingers slowly
over the letters that spelled out Stanley Raymond Kowalski: A fine
officer, a loving son and a loyal friend. May he rest with the angels. 
Fraser fully believed Ray was with the angels, or whatever people chose to
call them, adding his magnificent energy and light to the heavens above.
He spent long nights staring up at those star-lit heavens, every now and
then he would see a shooting star and think of his friend; a bundle of
fierce energy that would never truly be dimmed. 
         Even now, almost two years later he still missed him deeply, but
he had promised to try and cope and Ray had been correct that there were
things left for the Canadian to do in this world. Ray Vecchio returned
home, not quite a month after Kowalski's death and had partnered up with
the Mountie again; igniting Fraser's passion for crime fighting once more,
which he had thought lost after that terrible night when he lost his
partner and best friend. Inspector Thatcher had accepted a transfer to the
Far East working in criminal intelligence and Fraser took over her
position; giving him the options of many trips home to Canada whenever he
desired them. 
        Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski moved back to Arizona to be with family
almost immediately. Fraser had tried to be supportive of them, but they
were too far involved in their own grief to respond; though they never
said they blamed him. Stella Kowalski died tragically when her car stalled
on the railroad tracks and she was hit by an oncoming train, just six
months later, most ruled it an accident, but Fraser suspected it was
suicide. The woman had seemed to be devastated by her ex-husband's death
and could not be consoled. It was rumored that she had started drinking
heavily and refused Fraser's attempts to contact her. He knew Stan would
want him to watch out for her, but in the end it seemed Stella was
determined to let her grief consume her. The only consolation was that she
and Stan might finally be together now. 
        "Benton?" a quiet feminine voice said softly behind him and he
straightened to turn toward the woman that had become so very important to
him. "Are you all right?" He nodded. 
        "I just miss him." he sighed as Elaine stepped up and put her free
arm around him, the other holding the eighteen month old boy that held
Fraser's dark blue eyes and thick black hair. 
        "So do I.," she admitted softly as she glanced down at the grave
of their friend. "He'll always be with us, though." Fraser nodded and
pulled his son into his arms to take the pressure off his Mother's bulging
belly and no doubt aching back. Elaine ran a hand over her stomach and
gasped. 
        "What is it, love?" he asked concerned. 
        "I think it's time, sweetheart." She commented as another
contraction hit her. She took a few deep breaths as Fraser started to
steer her away and toward the car. She shook her head firmly. "I...I want
to say good bye to him, Ben." Fraser nodded quietly. "Take Stanley Ray to
the car, I'll be there in a minute." Elaine watched her husband and son
head for the GTO, given to them by the Kowalski's because they said Stan
would have wanted it that way, then turned back to the grave. "Thank you
for saving him for me, Ray." She smiled as the breeze picked up a little
and seemed to caress her face with the softest sensation of a kiss, then
smiled at Fraser who was beside her once again. 
        "Come along, Elaine." He encouraged and she chuckled, letting him
lead her toward the car, where the son sat waiting. Another contraction
hit her halfway there and Fraser waited until she could move again. 
        "Gonna be a kicker like his uncle Stan." She teased and Fraser
smiled. 
        "Then he should make a wonderful police officer." He replied as he
helped her into the passenger seat then headed around to the driver's
side. He happened to glance up, sensing he was being watched, and tried to
hide his shock at what he saw; Ray Kowalski, perched atop his own
headstone, as he pulled out one of the flowers Fraser had left from their
cone, a long stemmed rose. He looked up, caught Fraser's eye and winked,
and then he hopped down as Stella joined him smiling. He propped the
flower in his teeth and took his wife into his arms, waltzing her around
the graveyard to the beat of their hearts. 
        "Ben?" Elaine questioned, breathing rather heavily. "Are..are you
coming?" Fraser didn't want to glance away, didn't want to loose sight of
his friend. The barest whisper of his friend's voice sounded around him.
Pitter patter, Buddy. Fraser blinked back his tears and when his vision
cleared they were gone. 
        "Thank you kindly, Ray." He whispered with a sad, knowing smile,
then slid behind the wheel. Elaine reached across and placed her hand on
his arm. 
        "Are you okay?" she asked and he nodded, giving her one of his
best smiled. 
        "I am wonderful." He assured leaning across to kiss her. "I love
you." 
        "I love you too." She sighed. "Now get me to the hospital before
we have this critter here in the car!" Fraser laughed, imagining the rage
of one Stanley Kowalski, if they dared mess up his upholstery. 
        "Understood." He complied and pulled away from the cemetery. 
  

The End. 

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