Vault, v.2   

Disclaimer: They belong to Alliance, not me.
 Author's Notes: This came from the Serge challenge to rewrite a Season
1/2 episode as though it had happened in Season 3, with Ray Kowalski.
After having seen "Vault" for the first time yesterday, the new scenario
came to me in a flash of insight, and I rushed to write it down before I
lost it. I hope it rings true.
 Spoilers, sort-of, for "Vault" and references to "Mountie on the Bounty"
which, in my little AU, happened before this. 11/12/99 Vault, v. 2
 by Kittie
 http://www.pcshock.com 

Ray was furious. Seething. Pissed, even. He could feel white-hot rage
coursing through his veins, and he wondered if the steam he could see
rising from his body as the water was burned away by the fire inside him
was any more than just his imagination. He paced back and forth, sending
the rising water at his feet sloshing away in angry waves, his teeth and
fists clenched tight. The rage finally consumed him and he spoke. 

"Fuck!" He didn't speak so much as scream. 

Fraser, who had been standing quietly in the corner, jumped slightly, his
eyes widening with what Ray hoped was fear. 

"You... selfish, arrogant Fuck!" 

"I-" Fraser tried to speak but Ray cut him off. 

"Do not talk to me, Fraser, do not say a word!" 

Fraser complied instantly, gulping audibly and clasping his hands behind
his back. "Alright." 

"I cannot believe you did this, Fraser, I cannot believe.... FUCK!" He
realized that his anger was making it nearly impossible to string together
an understandable sentence, and forced himself to breathe. In... out...
in... out.... "FUCK!" Okay, breathing didn't work. 

"Ray," Fraser began timidly, "perhaps if you would tell me what-" 

"You don't know? You don't fucking know what you.... Christ, Fraser, if I
had my gun right now, I would blow your goddamn head off!" 

"You don't mean that-" 

"I mean it, Fraser, don't you fucking tell me what I mean and what I don't
mean! I am so fucking sick-" 

"Really, Ray, is that sort of language nec-" 

"Don't tell me what kind of language I can use, Fraser! You dragged me in
here and you fucking decided to give up both our lives, and for what? My
life is not yours to give, Fraser, and I am fucking tired of you acting
like it is!" 

"I didn't-" 

"You did! You fucking did, Fraser. You made a decision, just like always,
and you didn't even bother to ask me. You didn't trust me enough to make
my own goddamned decision, you didn't think I'd be smart enough to come up
with a plan on my own, so you just went with yours, just like you always
do. 'Ray, my friend, I'm going to risk your life in a wildly bizarre way,'
only you didn't even bother to say it out loud! No, you just did it, and
like always, I'm supposed to take it. 'You know best, Fraser, you're the
Mountie.' Well, guess what, Fraser, you don't always know best, and it's
about time you got a fucking clue!" 

Ray took a deep gasping breath, feeling a dim sense of satisfaction as he
saw the shock and hurt in Fraser's eyes. He stepped up close to the
Mountie, got right up in his face, just as he would with any lowlife
suspect in an interrogation room. "You think you're so perfect, but you're
not! You hold yourself and everybody else up to some impossibly high
standards, and just because you meet them most of the time, you think
you're God. Well, guess what, Fraser, your standards and other people's
standards are not the same thing, and you're only perfect to you. To me,
you're just annoying as hell. I don't need your help to die, Fraser, I can
risk my own life, on my time, on my terms, without your help!" 

He turned away, sloshing back to the other side of the vault and throwing
himself against the wall hard enough to send bolts of pain down his back
and legs. The pain felt good. He relished it. The rage was dying slowly,
allowing him to think. 

They were good and stuck, alright, locked into a bank vault with no way
out since Fraser had oh-so-helpfully disabled the mechanism, left with
only a short amount of time before the whole room filled with water from
the sprinklers and drowned them. Fraser knew he hated water. He'd known
ever since that stupid case with the Whaling Yankee, when he'd admitted he
couldn't swim. He'd thought that Fraser would get the hint after
everything that had happened, but he'd done it again. Just bulldozed over
Ray's objections, his feelings, and done things his way. And once again,
Ray was paying the price. 

He sighed and closed his eyes against the headache that had formed behind
his eyes for glaring so hard and so long. Fraser was silent on the other
side of the vault, so all Ray could hear was the harsh sound of his own
breathing and the steady fall of water-on-water. That, and the faint
drilling sounds from outside the vault. It was possible they could get out
alive, Fraser had assured him cheerfully. According to his calculations.
"Calculations," Ray muttered aloud, keeping his eyes closed. 

The day had started out so normally. He'd gone to work, gotten a bit of
paperwork done, picked Fraser up at the consulate for lunch, accidentally
brought down a drug and prostitution ring when Fraser had stumbled into a
deal-in-progress, and after work, a simple trip to the bank. All-in-all, a
pretty average day. Or it would have been if the bank hadn't been held up
by robbers as they started to leave, and if Fraser hadn't dragged them
into this stupid vault and proceeded to basically sentence them both to
death. 

Ray sighed and felt his body relax slightly. He really wasn't being fair.
It wasn't Fraser's fault the bank had gotten knocked over. It wasn't his
fault one of the robbers was someone he'd had a hand in arresting before.
It wasn't his fault she'd opened fire on them. Fraser had saved their
lives by dragging them into the vault. At least her bullets couldn't
penetrate the 8-foot steel door. Ray frowned. That couldn't be right.
Maybe Fraser had said 8 inches. Yeah, 8-inch steel door. That was more
like it. 

He opened his eyes at a squint, checking to see if the headache was still
there. It wasn't, so he opened his eyes all the way. The water was up to
his knees, but he'd known that before he'd looked. The Mountie was still
in the same spot, his face pale, eyes downcast. Ray felt a pang of guilt.
He'd definitely been too hard on him. 

"Hey, Fraze?" he called quietly, taking a step toward his gloomy friend.
"Listen, I'm sorry I yelled at ya. I didn't mean it, ya know. I was just
blowin' off steam." 

Fraser didn't answer. 

"Fraze?" he took another step closer. "Aw, yer not mad at me, are ya?
Look, I know I said some rotten things-" 

"No, Ray, you were absolutely right." Fraser's voice was low, and Ray
could barely hear him over the running water. "I am a selfish, arrogant...
person." 

"I'm pretty sure the word I used was-" 

"I am well aware of what word you used, Ray," Fraser snapped. 

Ray almost smiled at that. "Oh." Almost. 

Fraser took a deep, shuddering breath. "So when we are freed from our
prison, we will go our separate ways. You will not be forced to work with
me anymore." 

Ray laughed nervously. "Oh, come on, Benton Buddy, you didn't take me
seriously, didya? I told ya, it didn't mean anything, I was just mad. We
can still be partners." 

"No, you were right." Fraser couldn't meet his eyes. "I have endangered
you too many times. Discounted your thoughts and feelings. I understand
your unwillingness to... settle for-" 

"Settle for what, the best friend I ever had? Sure you get the hell on my
nerves sometimes, Fraze, but that's normal." Fraser shook his head and Ray
felt a flash of panic. "You know what 'friends' means, Fraser? 'Friends'
means that when somebody does something that pisses you off, you forgive
'em because you love 'em anyway. That's what 'friends' means." 

Fraser finally looked up and into his eyes. "You... you love me, Ray?" 

"Well... yeah, sure. We're friends, right? Partners?" 

Fraser stared at him, long and hard. Ray started to fidget. "Frase, you
know, one of the other things you do that really weirds me out but I let
it go because we're friends and all is when you stare at me like that." 

Fraser finally smiled. "I'm sorry, Ray. I won't stare at you anymore."
Then his smile faded and his gaze dropped once again to the floor. "And I
shall attempt to refrain from doing things without your consent. You are a
capable officer and a good man. I trust in you to do the right thing." 

"Really?" Ray felt a grin widen his face. "You trust me?" 

"With my life, Ray." 

Impulsively, Ray leapt forward to grab Fraser in a bear hug, but forgot
about the water that had risen to his waist, and plunged underneath it
with a splash. Luckily, he was already soaking wet, so it didn't matter in
the slightest. ~*~ 

Ray reached for the box of tissues on his desk and barely lifted the thin
paper to his face before he let out a thunderous sneeze. "Bless you,"
chorused most of the people in the bullpen, and he glared around at their
laughing faces. 

"I ab so glad you fide by paid abusig," he snapped, annoyed that he
couldn't even sound threatening with his nose stuffed up so badly. Maybe
he should try to talk without using the letters "n" and "m." 

The would-be-bank robbers had blown the door just in time, and he and
Fraser had ridden a tidal wave out of the vault, knocking three of the
four robbers to the floor immediately. They had hit the wall hard and been
knocked unconscious before they'd even known what was happening. As for
the fourth, the woman who had shot Fraser in the hat so long ago, she had
attempted to run but was apprehended by Dief just in front of the bank.
Despite the job well done, Ray and Fraser had been the butt of a lot of
teasing by the other members of the Chicago police department, due to the
unorthodox method of the collar. 

Ray smiled a bit, thinking of Fraser. The two of them had sat down to have
a long talk the night after the robbery. Fraser had still been upset over
the things Ray had said in the vault, so Ray ordered the Mountie to "hit
him back." Fraser had been predictably confused by the request, since Ray
had not physically hit him, but once he understood that Ray meant it
symbolically, he had reluctantly obliged. Ray felt a renewed pang of guilt
as he recalled Fraser's admission. "I find it hard to speak of... personal
matters, Ray. Those times when I attempt to express myself with the
legends told by the Inuit peoples, I am opening myself to you in the only
way I know how. It... it hurts when you cut me off." Ray had promised to
remember that, and was still waiting for an opportunity in which to prove
his determination to his friend. It had only been a few days since their
adventure, and apparently, nothing had come up which required an Inuit
story. 

"Hey, Ray," Detective Jack Huey stopped next to his desk and dropped an
envelope in front of him. "This came for you. Looks like Fraser's
handwriting." 

Puzzled, Ray picked up the envelope. Sure enough, his name was written on
the front in Fraser's precise handwriting. "Okay, thadks." He waited until
Huey had gone before opening the note. 

Inside the envelope was a single folded piece of paper. 

What is a Friend? What is a friend? I will tell you. It is a person with
whom you dare to be yourself. 

Your soul can be naked with him. He seems to ask of you to put on nothing,
only to be what you are. He does not want you to be better or worse. 

When you are with him, you feel as a prisoner feels who has been declared
innocent. 

You do not have to be on your guard. You can say what you think, so long
as it is genuinely you. He understands those contradictions in your nature
that lead others to misjudge you. 

With him you breathe freely. 

You can avow your little vanities and envies and hates and vicious sparks,
your meanness and absurdities and, in opening them up to him, they are
lost, dissolved on the white ocean of his loyalty. 

He understands. You do not have to be careful. You can abuse him, neglect
him, tolerate him. Best of all, you can keep still with him. It makes no
matter. He likes you--He is like fire that purges to the bone. He
understands. He understands. 

You can weep with him, sin with him, laugh with him, pray with him.
Through it all--and underneath--he sees, knows, and loves you. 

A friend? What is a friend? Just one, I repeat, with whom you dare to be
yourself. 

--Raymond Beran 

Ray smiled, feeling tears come to his eyes as he read Fraser's handwritten
words. 

Thank you, Ray, for being my friend.
 Sincerely,
 Benton Fraser
 Royal Canadian Mounted Police End