Death by Serge - by Ashinae	  

Rating: G 
Spoilers: nope 
Disclaimer: I don't own the guys, or the station gang, I just like playing
with them. It's a privilege, not a right, and I hope I do better this
time. 
Summary: Ray Kowalski and Fraser save the day, twice, but justice has its
costs. 
Notes: I am so sorry for the *gross* injustice that occurred with my first
solo story, Ghosts of Home. I am a Canadian, and I am horribly embarrassed
and very reluctant to write another story, but here goes. Watch for the
correction here! Jenn, thanks for the plot bunny (well, more than that)
and for your patience in my befuddlement. Oh, also the woman in this story
is most like the character Joan Cusack plays in Corrina, Corrina. Great
stuff there! 

Feedback is absolutely wonderful! Please write at go_bananak@yahoo.com 

[Story beta'd & html'd by Jenn aka Ashinae] 

* * * * * 

GUARDING MUFFY - July, 2000 
by Jo 

"On the ground, now!" Ray Kowalski screamed, pressing his gun to the man's
head harder. The tension was thick, and all waited to see the man's
reaction. Seconds ticked by which seemed like hours, but the man finally
relented and slowly dropped to the ground. 

"Now tell them to let him go," Ray snarled, cocking the gun, "or you'll be
tasting this bullet for breakfast." The man turned to the other three men
that were holding down the Mountie. 

Ray looked at Benton Fraser. Fraser nodded slightly. Ray was about to yell
again, when he was tackled down on his back. There was a struggle for the
gun, but Ray managed to shoot in the direction of the packages of heroin
and blew one open, the contents spilling out and onto the ground. 

That was the distraction Fraser needed. He quickly pulled himself from his
captors' grasps and disarmed them. He then began running for Ray. 

"Ray, stop shooting! Ray!" Fraser yelled. He had smelled the methane fumes
emanating from the many sewage trucks and he knew that any gunfire could
set off a massive explosion, killing them all. 

Ray had lost the gun and it went skidding a few feet ahead of him and the
man as they rolled on the ground, trying to pin each other down. 

Fraser ran, but the other three men caught him and tried to tackle down.
Fraser was ready for them. He delivered a blow to one man's jaw that sent
him staggering backwards and down a nearby stairwell. Another one came at
him, only to be knocked down and pushed into a pile of boxes. The third
man tried running for the gun, but Fraser made it first and pointed it at
him. The man backed down, and Fraser said, polite as always, "Please lie
down on the ground with your hands behind your head." Grudgingly, the man
complied. 

Fraser then turned to the man struggling with Ray. 

"Let him go Mr. Cortalone, it's over," Fraser said. 

"Oh, come now. I know you, Mountie. You can't shoot a gun. What do you
say, you're 'not under jurisdiction'?" The man laughed. 

"That may be true. However, that does not include circumstances such as
these, where self-defense is in order." Fraser glanced at Ray, and the
blond man nodded. 

Cortalone paused. "Really?" 

Fraser stared at him, then glanced downward. "Well, no that's not entirely
correct." He then threw the gun high into the air. As the men were caught
off guard, Ray rolled away from Cortalone and caught the gun. 

"Okay, so let's try this again. Now, on the ground!" Ray snapped, reaching
for his handcuffs. "Fraser?" 

"Certainly, Ray," he returned, and handcuffed Cortalone, then proceeded to
hog-tie the other man with his lanyard. 

*** 

While Ray argued on the phone with Frannie, Fraser walked around, getting
a better look at the trucks. It was true; one more gun shot would have
been the trigger. He then ran back to Ray. 

"Ray," he said quietly, so that the other men wouldn't hear, "do not fire
that gun. There is enough methane gas to blow up this entire block." 

"Gotcha Frase. Don't worry, back up's comin'." 

*** 

Upon returning to the Precinct, both men were greeted with cheers and pats
on the back. Frannie greeted Fraser with open arms, but he quickly dodged
her and followed Ray straight into Welsh's office. 

"Well, well, the heroes!" Welsh exclaimed sarcastically. The men's smiles
dropped. They looked at each other. This was *not* going to be pretty. 

"Are you going to explain yourselves?" Welsh asked, and not waiting for
them to respond, he added, "You know, about not calling in for back up the
*minute* you saw suspicious activities going on?" 

"I, uh, I can field that one, Sir," Ray said. "You see, the car was parked
way down the street there, and--" 

"And you decided that it would be better to waltz in there without going
back to the car first." Welsh was now tapping his pen on his desk. Fraser
glanced at Ray again, then decided to speak. 

"We were walking at my insistence, Leftenant. We had come across a
warehouse at which I had noticed a particularly strong methane odour, and
I suggested that we investigate." 

"Investigate methane gas?" Welsh asked, sighing. 

"*Strong* methane, Sir." 

Welsh shook his head. "Next time call for back up, Vecchio, or I'll have
your badge." 

"Yeah--yes, Sir." Ray nodded. 

"Dismissed. Oh, and fellas," Welsh added, smiling warmly as they opened
the door, "good job on baggin' Cortalone. Biggest heroin dealer around. I
see bright futures for you guys." 

The two men left the office smiling a little more, but their smiles
broadened considerably when faced with Detectives Huey and Dewey. 

"Yeah, well, uh good job, guys," Huey coughed out. 

Dewey nodded offhandedly. "Yeah, sure, way to go." 

Even Fraser had to suppress a chuckle at the seething jealousy apparent in
the men. 

"Yeah, well, all in a day's work, right Frase?" Ray nodded to him,
smiling. 

"Oh--of course, Ray." 

*** 

"You and me, Frase, we got that connection goin', y'know?" Ray said, as he
drove towards the Consulate. 

"Connection, Ray?" Fraser asked. 

"Yeah, like subconsciously, like on another level. We handled them
perfectly, y'know, 'cause we knew what each other was thinkin'. We had the
same frame of mind, and were both right on the task. Connected." Ray took
one hand off the wheel, much to Fraser's discomfort, and reached in the
back seat to get something from his coat. 

"I-I can get your coat for you, Ray," Fraser offered quickly. 

"Nah, I got it," he replied, and proceeded to unwrap a chocolate bar with
his hand and teeth. "Y'see, Frase, we're kinda like this candy bar, here.
Caramel and chocolate and nugget all workin' together to make a
masterpiece." 

"I see. Ray--" 

"God, Frase, don't ya feel great! I feel like going to the shooting range
for a bit, you know, practise the old arm on some targets, how 'bout you?"


"Ah, no, thank you. Firing weapons at paper is not exactly my idea of a
fun activity, Ray." Fraser answered, shaking his head slightly. 

"Canadians," Ray sighed. 

"Americans," Fraser countered, and was received with a very unbecoming
snort from his partner. Fraser paled as he watched Ray grip the wheel with
only his knees, licking off the remnants of chocolate that had melted on
his fingers. He then grabbed a tissue to complete the task of cleaning his
hands. "Ray," Fraser began mildly, "would you mind watching the road a bit
more carefully? Please?" 

Ray ignored the comment, but screeched to a halt after almost hitting a
lady who had run into the middle of the street, waving her arms at them. 

"Please help me, he's getting away with her!" the woman screamed, pointing
at a dark green car as it turned the corner. Ray and Fraser got out and
Fraser looked at the tail lights of the escaping car, wishing he hadn't
left Dief with Turnbull in the Consulate that morning, and started off in
the direction of the vehicle. 

Ray shook his head, watching the Mountie run off. "Who's taking who,
ma'am?" he asked. 

"That man in the car, he's taking my baby, my beautiful Muffy!" she
wailed. "He's kidnapping her! Ohh!" she cried out again. 

"Don't worry," Ray called out as he started up the car again, "we'll find
your daughter. We'll get her back!" He drove off in the direction of the
Mountie and the escaping car. 

"Daughter?" the woman asked out loud, frowning. 

*** 

"Fraser, get in!" Ray called, and the Mountie complied. 

"Ah, thank you Ray. That struggle this morning has left me a bit winded,
I'm afraid," Fraser said as he took off his Stetson and wiped his forehead
on his sleeve. 

"The guy's kidnapped her daughter, Muffy. God, Frase, what's with parents
these days? I mean, come on, Muffy? That's gotta be the worst name for a
girl I've ever heard!" 

They rounded a few more corners, searching for the elusive automobile, and
finally found it, a few cars ahead, in a traffic jam. Both men nodded and
got out of the car, Ray's gun out and ready. 

"Fraser, should I call for back up?" Ray asked. They both looked at each
other. This morning should have taught them a lesson, but Ray shook his
head. 

"Nah, it's only the one guy, right?" 

"It appears so, Ray." 

"Then, let's just..." 

"Well, he could have some accomplices in the back seat that we are not
aware of." 

"Yeah, yer probably right." Ray went back into the car, speaking on the
radio. 

"All right," Fraser said, when Ray was finished and they inched forward to
come up on either side of the trunk of the car. "Ready? One, two--" 

"Three!" Ray shouted and opened the driver-side door, pulling out the boy
and throwing him against the side of the car. "Hands up! Hands up!" he
shouted. 

"Ray, I... have her." Fraser said slowly. "Please, take her now." 

"What?" Ray asked, not taking his eyes off the boy, aged probably around
sixteen. 

"Please, Ray, she won't stop licking me." Fraser mumbled. 

Ray turned to stare incredulously at Fraser, as he kept a kitten at arms
length, wiping his face with his right shoulder. "Oh, Ray, Dief will never
forgive me from having this smell on me." 

It was at that moment when sirens were heard, and the two men had received
their back up. 

"Oh, damn," Ray muttered. 

*** 

"Well, Ms. Meridan, we are happy to be of assistance to you," Fraser
smiled, after she had invited them in and they had sat down on a
plastic-covered sofa in the living room. 

The kid was a next door neighbour to the woman and had apparently gotten
sick of the cat outside crying and whining all night. He had apologised to
the woman and Ms. Meridan promised to keep the windows closed so that the
kitten couldn't get out at night. 

Fraser and Ray attempted to make the least noise possible as they were
seated. Fraser sat on the edge of the cushion, and Ray attempted to sit
back, only to come to the conclusion that Fraser's position was more
quiet. 

"Well, thank you ever so much for saving my baby Muffy!" Ms. Meridan
cried, then stopped suddenly. "Mr. Vecchio, did you think that Muffy was
my daughter?" 

Ray closed his eyes tightly, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
"Yes'um." 

"Weell, then, that's right hilarious!" She laughed, then got up, "Would
you two like to try some of my lemonade?" Not waiting for an answer, she
went away and came back with two tall glasses of yellow liquid. Fraser
smiled and took the glass from her hand, bringing it to his lips. He had
one swallow, then almost coughed it up, cringing at the sour taste that
would surely burn his tongue off. He gasped. 

"Q-quite a... strong mix... *What* is in it?" he asked, eyes watering. 

"Oh, lemons, and water," she replied, handing the other glass to Ray. He
smiled but put it down right away, too afraid to try it. The woman looked
at Fraser again, a large smile plastered on her face. 

"So, you're Canadian, right? Gee, that must be different. What state did
you grow up in up there?" Ms. Meridan inquired. 

"Well, yes it is different, and I'm afraid Canada is made up of provinces.
Provinces and territories." Fraser spoke with more force, seemingly coming
out of nowhere. "Why, yes, in fact, ten provinces and three territories.
Would you like me to name them? Too late. We have New Brunswick, Prince
Edward Island, Newfoundland, Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, Saskatchewan,
Alberta, and British Columbia. But wait, those are just the *provinces*!
We also have the Yukon and the Northwest Territories, my homeland, and
Nunavut, recently formed in the last decade!" 

Fraser stopped speaking. He looked at Ray, who was more than a little
wide-eyed. 

"Fraser, was there something else in that lemonade?" he asked, then looked
over at Ms. Meridan, who was staring at Fraser. Her eyelashes fluttered
for a moment, then she frowned. 

"Oops! I must have forgotten that spoonful of sugar! I'm not so sure if
it's necessary for you two, but any other neighbours will surely want
some. Let me just get some water for you," she said, pointing at Fraser. 

"Oh well, actually, we must be off, right Ray?" Fraser almost pleaded. 

"Oh, uh, yes!" Ray called out into the direction of the kitchen. Then he
spoke to Fraser quietly. "What *was* that, Fraser?" 

"I... I'm not sure," he admitted, frowning. "But strangely, it felt
justified. I think... I also want to say that polar bears can be found in
Northern Canada. Strange." Fraser was lost in thought, when Ray poked him.


"That cat's lookin' at me weird, Fraser." 

"Ray, it's a kitten. I am almost positive no harm will come to you." 

"I dunno, Frase. It's tail is puffin' up." Ray then yelped as the cat
jumped up in his lap, and swiped at his face. 

"Get'er off me. Off!" Ray yelled, and Fraser carefully picked the kitten
up in his one hand and plopped it on the floor. It instantly started
purring and rubbing up against Fraser's boot. Fraser sighed. "There's
going to be a lot of trouble when I return to the Consulate," he
commented, eyeing the kitten. "You realize you're putting me in a lot of
danger, don't you? Cats," he muttered, "selfish creatures. Always
expecting to get what they want, and..." he paused, leaning down to stroke
its fur, "usually receiving it." 

"Yah, well, let's go before Ms. Meridan makes us drink that stuff!" Ray
exclaimed, rubbing his scratched cheek and heading for the door. "Wait,
didn't she say earlier that we'd get a *reward*?" he asked, grinning
slyly. 

"Ray, it should be enough to see that justice was served. No reward is
necessary in exchange for bringing hope in the eyes of the people we serve
under the law." 

"Fraser. We just made complete and utter asses of ourselves in front of
the back up teams," Ray said in an amazingly patient voice. "When we go
back to the Precinct to make our *official* report their all gonna laugh
in our faces. Harder, even, because we just bagged us some big time heroin
people, and now a boy cat-napping a kitten!" Ray breathed in deeply. "I,
for one, would like to get *something* out of this. I don't have to share
it with you, if that's your preference." He smirked at Fraser, then called
out to the woman. "So, we're off!" 

Ms. Meridan emerged from the kitchen. "Well okay, if you must be off,
here's your reward." Smiling again, she handed Ray a round tin. "I made a
batch of cookies today. Well, *several,* really, so please take them with
you. And thank you once more on the terrific job you did saving my
kitten." 

Ray stared silently at the tin. 

Tipping his Stetson, Fraser slowly led Ray off the porch. "Well, thank you
kindly ma'am, good day." 

Once in the car, Ray came out of his daze and drove off, seeing the woman
from the rearview mirror, waving madly with one hand, the kitten in the
other. 

"Fraser." 

"Yes, Ray." 

"Crack open that tin and get me a cookie, will ya?" 

Fraser gave him a half-compassionate pat on the back. "Of course, Ray." 

*** 

Upon returning to the Precinct once more, the two men were welcomed with
cheers and congratulations. This time, however, the faces were whimsical
and sarcasm was dripping from the walls as they walked towards Welsh's
office. 

"Well, well," Welsh said, after hearing the mumble of a report on their
newly solved case. "I'm proud of you two. Good work. Cat-napping is a
*very* serious offence. But what I am most proud of is your attention to
orders. You sent for back up. Good work, men. You'd better get back out
there, I believe there is some elderly lady needing your assistance to
help her across the street. Dismissed!" 

"You know, Ray, that was not something to joke about," Fraser told his red
faced partner as they walked from the office. "People do not respect the
elderly as well as they used to. Perhaps he is right, perhaps--" 

"Oh, Fraser give it up!" Ray cried, then was stopped in his tracks by Huey
and Dewey. 

"Well, absolutely fantastic work there, guys!" Huey shouted, shaking both
of their hands. 

"Yeah, *way* *to* *go*!" Dewey exclaimed, accentuating each word he spoke
with a little punch on Fraser and Ray's shoulders. "Next time my mother
needs help out of the bathtub, I'll be sure to call you!" 

Ray sighed. "Hardy ha ha, guys. Laugh it up. At least we're doin' some
work!" Ray then led Fraser out of the Precinct and they were driving again
in the direction of the Consulate, taking a different route, and polishing
off the rest of the cookies. Three batches of chocolate chip cookies.
Fraser thought he could possibly die, but the cookies did indeed seem
oddly comforting. 

*** 

Upon returning to the Precinct once more, the two men were welcomed with
cheers and congratulations. This time, however, the faces were whimsical
and sarcasm was dripping from the walls as they walked towards Welsh's
office. 

"Well, well," Welsh said, after hearing the mumble of a report on their
newly solved case. "I'm proud of you two. Good work. Cat-napping is a
*very* serious offence. But what I am most proud of is your attention to
orders. You sent for back up. Good work, men. You'd better get back out
there, I believe there is some elderly lady needing your assistance to
help her across the street. Dismissed!" 

"You know, Ray, that was not something to joke about," Fraser told his red
faced partner as they walked from the office. "People do not respect the
elderly as well as they used to. Perhaps he is right, perhaps--" 

"Oh, Fraser give it up!" Ray cried, then was stopped in his tracks by Huey
and Dewey. 

"Well, absolutely fantastic work there, guys!" Huey shouted, shaking both
of their hands. 

"Yeah, *way* *to* *go*!" Dewey exclaimed, accentuating each word he spoke
with a little punch on Fraser and Ray's shoulders. "Next time my mother
needs help out of the bathtub, I'll be sure to call you!" 

Ray sighed. "Hardy ha ha, guys. Laugh it up. At least we're doin' some
work!" Ray then led Fraser out of the Precinct and they were driving again
in the direction of the Consulate, taking a different route, and polishing
off the rest of the cookies. Three batches of chocolate chip cookies.
Fraser thought he could possibly die, but the cookies did indeed seem
oddly comforting. 

*** 

Fraser walked into the Consulate with Ray following behind. Dief came
running up to them but halted, sniffing the air. He growled, then came
closer and smelled Fraser's boot. 

"Now, Dief, it's not what you think--" Fraser began, but was interrupted
by a grunt, as Dief turned and stalked towards Fraser's office door. Dief
pushed himself in, and then after a few minutes, the door slammed and all
was silent. 

Fraser hung his head. "I'm going to pay for that one tonight," he
commented. Ray could only agree, though he smiled. 

They both groaned, then rubbed their stomachs, letting out slow breaths. 

Then they both winced as they heard Inspector Thatcher's voice. 

"Well, Constable, Detective. I just got off the phone from Leftenant
Welsh. It seems that you two are the talk of the Precinct today." Thatcher
was smiling too sweetly, and Turnbull was covering his mouth, whimpering
in his attempt not to laugh out loud. 

"Yes, well," Fraser mumbled, tugging at an earlobe and looking downwards. 

"I'm sure in your report you won't be leaving any assorted details out of
your *intriguing* morning, hmm?" she asked, cocking her head slightly.
"Good, I look forward to reading it. Turnbull, if you would be so kind as
to follow me," she ordered and the two returned to her office. 

Even with the large door closed, Fraser could still hear the uproarious
laughter coming from within. He shook his head, his face matching his
tunic. 

"Oh dear," was all he could mutter, and then looked at Ray, ashamed. 

"Hey, Frase. You know what we need at a time like this?" 

"Yes, I believe I do." 

"Firing range it is then?" Ray asked, as they walked from the Consulate
towards the car once more. 

"Firing range it is. Oh, and, Ray?" 

"Yeah Frase?" 

"Can we get ice cream afterwards?" 

"We can do that, Frase. Definitely." 

"Thanks, Ray." 

The batches of ingested cookies were instantly forgotten, as the two
heroes of the day drove off, into the setting sun, to relax with some
gunfire, and ice cream. 

THE END