The Hand Of Fate	

My disclaimer: The characterizations of Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio,
Diefenbaker, and the rest of the dueSouth gang belong entirely to the
minds that created them. Enjoy!  THE HAND OF FATE 

By Patti Cherry
 Due South Fiction 

The sun was shining brightly over the city of Chicago early Monday
morning. The snow removal crews continued to work at a frantic pace. Snow
plows and front loaders were out in force, clearing the streets and
municipal parking lots, followed by the salt and sand trucks. The air was
filled with the sounds of these vehicles hard at work trying to bring a
semblance of normalcy back to the city. Shovels scraped against sidewalks
as people attempted to dig their way out from under the twenty plus inches
of snow that had fallen over the weekend. Children joyfully played on the
mountainous piles of packed snow created by the trucks, impervious to the
cold and the frustration of the adults wielding the shovels. The prayers
of the city's children had been answered: school had been canceled.  

The glare of the sun shining off the snow and ice was blinding, making it
difficult for motorists and pedestrians alike. Dark sunglasses were in
vogue, along with woolen scarves, knit hats and earmuffs. The wind had
died down considerably, easing the chill of the Canadian cold front.
Still, the temperature wasn't expected to reach more than the low twenty's
for the day's high.  

Detective Ray Vecchio cautiously maneuvered his way through the streets,
cursing under his breath at the salty, sandy mess. He'd just taken the Riv
through the car wash on Friday, getting the works. Wash, wax, towel dry,
and a good vacuuming; especially the back seat where Dief usually rode.
God knows what had been growing back there. The wolf never listened. No
matter how many times he had been told not to eat in the car, he still
managed to sneak in treats. Ray made a decision to start frisking him
before allowing him in the Riv from now on. It was bad enough with all the
wolf hair, but junk food leftovers were just too much.	

Constable Benton Fraser and his wolf, Diefenbaker, were waiting patiently
out front the apartment building as Ray pulled along the snow bank that
now served as the curb. Fraser stepped easily over the three foot barrier,
let Dief in, then climbed in himself.  

"He better not have breakfast with him." Ray nodded his head in Dief's
direction.  

"Good morning, Ray. We already had breakfast."	

"I'm going to start checking him for contraband munchies starting today.
You hear that, Dief? No more Cheese Curls. If I wanted orange seats, I'd
buy seat covers." Diefenbaker yawned loudly and turned to look out the
window, totally ignoring Ray's outburst. "I don't know why I bother.
Neither one of you listen to me." Ray put the Riv in gear and pulled away
from the curb.	

"Is there a problem Ray?"  

"No problem, Fraser. I like having ants in my car. The more the merrier." 


"I wasn't aware of the ants, Ray. When did this happen?"  

"How long have we known each other?"  

"Well it's going on.."	

"Forget it. Just forget it. Okay?"  

Fraser watched his friend as they made their way to the bank uptown. Ray
seemed a bit upset this morning. Things probably didn't go well with Ms.
Bennet on Saturday; either that, or the Bulls lost the game again. Ray
tended to take the basketball games personally, as if their wins or losses
reflected directly on him. Once, after a particularly emotional loss,
Fraser had made a comment about it only being a game and not to take it
too personal. It had been a good thing that Ray hadn't been wearing his
weapon at the time. As it was, he hadn't spoken to Benton for three days. 


"The cable went out right before the game."  

"I'm sorry that happened, Ray. Did you listen to the radio?"  

"Of course I listened to the radio! They kept interrupting the broadcast
with updates on the storm. Like people can't see that it's snowing
outside. Morons."  

"They're called public service announcements."	

"I know what they're called."  

"I never meant to suggest otherwise, Ray. I'm sorry if I've upset you."  

"I'm not upset."  

"Understood."  

The two men drove in silence for several blocks. The date with Marissa
Bennet had not gone well. All she had done from the moment Ray picked her
up was whine and complain about the storm and his driving. There were
still fingerprints embedded in the dash from her clutching at it, and a
prominent footprint in the carpet caused by her imaginary brake pedal.
They hadn't even made it to his house when the argument broke out. Cracks
about his driving he could take; but when it came to the Riv or the Bulls,
that was another story. It ended with him taking her right back to her
place and Marissa slamming the door in his face. Oh well, it was better to
find these things out now rather than later.  

"I guess some things just aren't meant to be. Must have been Fate. Better
luck next time. Right?"  

"If you say so, Ray."  

As the Riv continued on its way, the sudden thud of a snowball hitting the
driver's window caused Ray to jump visibly and hit the brakes. He turned
to look through the disintegrating blob of snow and saw several older kids
take off down the street, laughing and gesturing to one another as they
went. "Damn kids." In his peripheral vision, Ray could see Fraser bent at
the waist, hands on the floor. "You okay Fraser?" The Mountie sat upright,
bringing with him a paperback book. He turned the book around and peered
at the cover. "Yes, Ray."  

Depicted on the front was an artist's rendition of a brawny, tanned, man
with flowing blonde hair. He was naked to the waist. On his lower body he
appeared to be wearing leather riding breeches with black boots. At his
waist he sported a sheathed hunting knife and a beautiful, red- haired,
buxom woman. She knelt at his feet; one hand resting on his upper thigh,
the other on his abdomen, fingers splayed. The ties on the front of her
white blouse were undone, the short puffed sleeves had slid halfway down
her arms exposing a wide expanse of cleavage. In the foreground grazed a
magnificent white horse, reins hanging; and in the background, a small
body of water shimmered. In the middle of the pond two swans appeared to
glide across the surface. The title of the book was "The Swan's Song."	

"Hmmm." Fraser frowned slightly as he studied the book cover. The man in
the picture seemed vaguely familiar. For some reason, he was reminded of
butter. He shook his head, trying to place the memory of the man.  

"Put the book back where you found it."  

Fraser glanced over at Ray, a questioning look on his face.  

"Put it back, Benny."  

"Will do." Fraser bent over and placed the book on the floor, shoving it
back underneath the seat. He then straightened up and turned back towards
his friend.  

"It's Frannie's. She must have left it in the car last week."  

Fraser nodded his head in agreement with Ray's statement.  

"She reads that kind of junk all the time."  

"All right."  

"It's got nothing to do with me."  

"I believe you Ray."  

"Good."  

Ray breathed a sigh of relief. Although the book really did belong to his
sister, he had begun to read it one day while waiting for his Ma and
Frannie. They had run into the Smart Shop grocery store to "pick up a few
things." The few things had turned into seven bags full of groceries. To
pass the time, Ray had picked up the book Francesca had left on the seat
and started to read, finishing several chapters by the time his family
returned to the car. He had shoved it under the seat and forgotten about
it. As innocent as his actions had been, this wasn't something he wanted
anyone to know. Not even Fraser.  

The business area of the city was bustling with people hurrying to work.
Most of them were running late due to the conditions left behind by the
storm. Traffic was moving slowly; the honking of horns and the occasional
angry shout of an impatient motorist added to the cacophony in the
streets. Ray pulled into the parking lot of the First National Bank of
Chicago and claimed the first available space. The lot was surprisingly
clear of ice and snow. The private contractor hired by the bank officials
had done an excellent job.  

As the two men entered the lobby, Fraser pulled a bank book from an inner
pocket of his topcoat. "Let me see that." Ray held out his hand and nodded
his head at the book. The Mountie handed over the passbook and watched as
his partner flipped it open to the first page. It was a trust account,
listing Diefenbaker as the owner of the savings account and Benton Fraser
as the trustee. Ray flipped through several pages, a look of astonishment
appearing on his face. He emitted a low whistle, then handed the book back
to Fraser.  

"You weren't kidding when you said Dief had more money than you. What's a
wolf going to do with all that cash?"  

"It's an investment for his future."  

"What's he planning to invest in? The Nestle Corporation?"  

"Well, no, Ray. I thought it wise to put aside some funds in case anything
should ever happen to me. This way, Diefenbaker will have the means to
return home, if he so chooses."  

"And then some."  

"Also, he makes regular charitable donations."	

"Charitable donations? No, don't tell me. Let me guess. The Ronald
McDonald Foundation?"  

"No, Ray. The local chapter of the Association for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Animals."  

"May I help you over here, please?" Fraser stepped up to the teller's
window and presented the passbook. "Good morning Constable. How are you
today?" The young woman proceeded to process the transaction, quickly and
efficiently. "Fine. Thank you kindly, Ms. Keaton. And yourself?"  

In less than five minutes, the transaction was complete and the two of
them headed back to the Riv. Ray was still contemplating Dief's wealth,
while Fraser tried once more to place the man on the cover of Francesca's
romance novel. It troubled him immensely that he couldn't recall where he
had seen the face.  

"So how much did Mrs. Peterson hit you up for?"  

"It's Peterman, and she was willing to forego the compensation. However, I
insisted. Diefenbaker needs to learn that crime doesn't pay."  

"Not with you in charge of the money, it doesn't. So, how much?"  

"Seventy-five dollars and sixty cents."  

"He ate seventy-five dollars worth of bagels?"	

"No. But he did have to pay for all the damages. Not just the ones he ate.
Mrs. Peterman had to dispose of thirty dozen bagels because of his
criminal actions."  

"Get in the car."  

As the Riv headed up the street towards the Canadian Consulate, Ray's
cellphone rang. He answered with a gruff, "Yeah! What do you want?" For
several seconds the detective was quiet, concentrating his efforts on
steering the car around one of the city's snowplows. "Sure. I'll be
there." With a disgusted outlet of breath, Ray turned off the phone and
looked over at Fraser.	

"Got any special plans for tonight?"  

"Not that I'm aware."  

"Well you do now. I've been assigned to a stake-out over on Rollins
Avenue. They got a suspect under surveillance for purported credit card
fraud. The regular team got a touch of food poisoning from some tuna
sandwiches. I've got to cover second shift. You interested?"  

"Of course, Ray."  

"I'll pick you up at 3:30."  

"Okay."  

"And Benny? You're going to have to lose the suit. We don't want to
attract attention."  

"Understood."  

As the Riv pulled away from the curb, Fraser entered the building that
housed the Canadian Consulate and proceeded to his office. Constable
Turnbull was engaged in a telephone conversation at the reception desk,
which brought a wave of relief to Benton. He nodded a good morning to the
man as he passed. Once safely ensconced within his work space, he removed
his outer coat, hanging it carefully on a coat hook. Next came the Stetson
which he placed on a shelf in the closet. His desk was stacked with
reports and files that Inspector Thatcher had heaped on him before leaving
for Ottawa. She was attending a training seminar that would deal with
sensitivity in the workplace and she had not been very pleased with the
assignment. Her orders to him had been brief. Get the work done, or else.
It mattered little to the Inspector that the work consisted of several
weeks worth of various Consulate supply orders, all of which needed to be
inventoried by hand. She was expected to return on the following Monday,
which gave him exactly one week to complete the task.  

Benton randomly chose a folder from one of the piles and glanced inside.
He lowered his head for an instant, contemplating his fate, then headed
for the restroom supply closet. He would spend the next few hours checking
rolls of toilet paper and various other bathroom toiletries against supply
sheets and entering the figures onto the inventory ledger. Turnbull was
now in the process of typing up his report on his recent telephone
conversation when Ben approached the desk.  

"If you should need me, I'll be in the bathroom."  

"Would you like me to hold your calls while you're...indisposed, Sir?"	

"I won't be indisposed, Turnbull. I'll just be in the bathroom."  

"I see. And if you should get visitors, shall I have them wait in your
office, Sir?"  

"Yes. That would be fine."  

"And while these visitors are waiting, shall I offer refreshments?"  

"I don't think that will be necessary."  

"But if they should ask?"  

"Then by all means, offer refreshments."  

"And, how long shall I tell them you'll be, Sir?"  

"A few minutes. I'll expect you to inform me of any calls or visitors
immediately. I'll just be taking inventory, Turnbull."	

"I understand, Sir." Turnbull gave Fraser a wink, then resumed typing his
report. Fraser walked away from the desk, shaking his head with
perplexity. Turnbull was an efficient officer, but Benton found him to be
a bit odd.  

The rest of the day was quiet. He received no calls or visitors, much to
his relief. At three fifteen, Fraser emerged from the restroom, his chore
completed. Constable Turnbull rushed past him, nearly knocking him over in
his haste, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Fraser thought about
inquiring as to why Turnbull hadn't used the other restroom, then wisely
decided to leave it alone. When Turnbull exited a few minutes later,
Fraser informed him that he would be gone for the remainder of the day and
bade him a good evening. As he approached the front door, he realized that
Diefenbaker was missing. He strode back to his office once more and
searched the room. The wolf was no where to be found. "This is not a good
time Diefenbaker. Ray will be here in ten minutes."  

Turnbull stuck his head inside the room. "If you're looking for
Diefenbaker, he went home several hours ago."  

"He went home?"  

"I assume so. He indicated a need to go out, but once we were outside, he
took off running in the direction of your apartment. I couldn't abandon my
post to follow him, you understand."  

"Why didn't you inform me?"  

"Your orders were specific, Sir. I was to inform you only if you received
a call or visitors."  

Fraser forced a tight smile. "Goodnight, Turnbull."  

"Goodnight, Sir."  

Five minutes later the Riv pulled up and Fraser climbed inside.  

"Where's Dief?"  

"Apparently he decided to take most of the day off. Turnbull said he went
home several hours ago."  

"Great. He better be there. We don't have the time to go wolf hunting. You
barely have time to change."  

"I'm sure he'll be there." Ray drove as fast as the road conditions
allowed and five minutes later they arrived at Fraser's apartment
building. They raced up the stairs and burst through the door to the
apartment. "Dief? Diefenbaker?" Ray and Fraser searched the room quickly,
yet thoroughly. The wolf wasn't home and there was no sign that he had
been. "Hurry up and get changed. We'll look for him on the way."  

"I don't understand where he could have gone. Turnbull said he was heading
for home. That was several hours ago."	

"Maybe he has a girlfriend."  

"Maggie wouldn't be out at this time of the day."  

"Maybe he's got another girlfriend."  

"Ray, Diefenbaker may be a thief, but he's not an adulterer."  

"He's not married, Fraser."  

"Maybe not in the conventional sense of the word Ray, but he and Maggie
have a strong relationship. No, I don't think he's out with another
female." Fraser grabbed his Stetson and the two of them stepped into the
hall.  

"Ray? Ray Vecchio? Is that you? It *IS*you." Jo Spenser threw her arms
around Ray's neck and hugged him tight. Ray peeked over her shoulder at
Fraser and made a face indicating he had no idea what was going on. She
suddenly let go and pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him back
slightly and smiling brilliantly into his face.  

"Oh my God. Joey? Little Joey Spenser? I can't believe it. The last time I
saw you, you were just a little kid in pigtails. Let me look at you." Ray
placed his hands on her upper arms and let his gaze travel over her. He
couldn't believe that this beautiful woman standing before him was the
same little girl who used to have a crush on him. "My God, you're
beautiful."  

"You should have said 'yes'." The detective started laughing as he
recalled the incident she was referring to. Joey had been around twelve,
although being so petite she appeared much younger. She had taken to
hanging around the Vecchio house, spending dinner with the family quite
often. Francesca had treated her like a younger sister, using her to
experiment with make-up and clothes. Ray never took much notice to his
sisters and their friends, except when they got in his way or bothered
him. He had just joined the police academy and was preoccupied with his
studies. One night after dinner, as he sat on the front porch, she joined
him. At first he tried to ignore her, but the kid had been determined to
get his attention. She began asking questions about police procedure. Her
inquiries were well defined and thought provoking. Ray found himself
answering the questions and telling stories about life at the academy.	

During a lull in the conversation, she had startled him by asking if he
would marry her. His first impulse had been to laugh at the incongruity of
her question, but as he looked into her eyes, he could tell that she was
quite serious with her proposal. Not wanting to hurt the girl's feelings,
he told her that he was too old for her and that by the time she grew up
to be a woman, she wouldn't want him anyway. He tried to be gentle and
sensitive, not wanting to tell her the truth. That he was involved with
someone and thought he was in love. Ray remembered how steady her gaze had
been when she told him that someday he would be sorry he didn't say yes.
Although her voice shook with emotion, not a tear fell from her eyes. She
had gotten up and went back inside. They never spoke about what had
transpired on the porch. In fact, they never really spoke to each other
again.	

"You're right. I should have." Ray smiled softly at the now grown-up
little girl he once knew.  

"Ah-hem. I take it you know each other?" Ben had been closely observing
the interaction between his best friend and his...neighbor. It was obvious
they knew one another. He wondered just how well and under what
circumstances. He felt a sudden pang of anxiety as he noticed how Ray
still held her arms and that Jo hadn't moved her hands off of his chest.
They were staring into each other's eyes and smiling brightly. Ben could
feel his blood rushing through his veins and hear the pounding of his
heart. Time seemed to stand still as the picture of Ray and Jo burned
itself in his mind. A chasm opened up deep within him and the pain he had
thought gone, returned with a vengeance. They let go of each other
simultaneously and looked his way. Fraser tried to keep his emotions in
check, barely containing himself.  

"Know each other? We almost got married." Ray looked at Jo and grinned.  

"We didn't almost get married."  

"You were engaged to be married?" Ray had never mentioned an engagement;
then again, he hadn't told him about Angie, either. As the significance of
this statement penetrated his consciousness, Fraser began to ponder the
consequences of the situation.	

"No. I asked Ray to marry me and he turned me down flat. He tried to tell
me it was the age difference, but I knew better. You had a girlfriend."  

"You knew?" Ray was surprised that Jo had known about Angie.  

"Of course I knew. Frannie told me."  

"She never could keep her yap shut."  

"You were sweet though, Ray. Trying so hard not to hurt my feelings."  

"I was afraid you'd start crying and then Ma would have killed me."  

"I never cry. This is so incredible! Do you two work together?" Jo
directed her attention first to Ray, then Fraser. When his blue eyes met
hers, an alarm went off in her mind. Something was terribly wrong.  

Over the weekend they had spent a great deal of time together; unpacking
the rest of her belongings, setting up the computer and stereo equipment,
arranging her library of VHS tapes. He had a talent for organization that
she admired. While they worked, he had entertained her with Inuit stories
and reminiscence of his childhood and early days on the Force. As he
talked, she had stared into those blue eyes and had been fascinated by
their depth. She had felt on the verge of infinity, as though she had
known this man forever. A certain familiarity existed between them,
bringing ease and comfort. Now, there was a starkness evident on his face.
Even more upsetting to Jo, a darkness had settled behind his eyes. She
reached out and touched his arm. "Are you all right?"  

"I'm fine." Fraser mentally composed himself and forced a grin.  

"He's just worried about Dief. He's missing."  

"Dief! I'd forgotten in all the excitement. That's what I meant to tell
you. He's with me." Relief washed over her as she realized the reason for
his discontent.  

"What do you know, Fraser. I was right about the girlfriend."  

"He came to the door around lunch time, so I let him in." Jo turned and
opened the door to her apartment. Diefenbaker strolled nonchalantly into
the hall and took up a position next to the woman.  

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience." Fraser locked gazes with the
wolf. "We'll discuss this matter later." He was a bit disturbed by
Diefenbaker's flagrant desertion earlier. "Thank you kindly for taking
care of him."  

"You don't have to thank me, Fraser. He's welcome anytime. So are you."  

"Oh man, we're late. Welsh will have my head. It was really great seeing
you again Jo. How about the three of us get together? Dinner?"	

"Dinner sounds good." Jo smiled at Ray's invitation.  

"How's tomorrow, around seven?"  

"That's fine."	

"And you, Fraser?" Ray turned in the Mountie's direction and waited for an
answer.  

Fraser had been contemplating the predicament he now faced upon the
discovery of Ray and Jo's past relationship. He had made a solemn vow
never to allow a woman to disrupt his friendship with Ray again. He meant
to keep that promise, no matter the cost to himself.  

"Yes, Ray?" Benton had lost track of the conversation.	

"Okay, it's a date. Pick you up at seven."  

"I'll be ready." Jo waved a good-bye and returned to her apartment.  

"Let's go, Fraser."  

As the two men descended the stairs, Fraser's thoughts were preoccupied by
the injustice of Fate. It appeared he was destined to a life of solitude.
The notion of spending a lifetime of loneliness was oppressive; especially
after experiencing the intimate bond he'd felt with Jo this past weekend.
He barely heard Ray as they made their way to the car.	

"What a coincidence, huh? Your woman turns out to be practically my first
wife. It's almost like Deja Vu."  

"No, Ray, actually this is the first time a situation of this nature and
magnitude reared its ugly head in our direction. However, I assure you I
will comport myself with the utmost decorum in deference to our
circumstances"	

"I've no idea what the hell you're babbling about." They reached the car
and climbed inside, Diefenbaker immediately stretching out across the back
seat. He'd spent the afternoon following the woman around her apartment as
she made minor adjustments to the furnishings. She'd hung some pictures,
unpacked clothes, and did some work at the computer, all the while singing
along with the music she had put on. Dief was exhausted.  

"It must be Fate. Don't you think?" Fraser nodded his head in affirmation
as Ray pulled the Riv away from the curb and headed towards Rollins
Street.  

"Yes, Ray. It must be."  

  

The saga continues..............Dream A Little Dream
 Comments, suggestions, etc., more than welcome. Please let me know your
opinion.
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