She Ain't Worth It
Ray was in real pain. He reached down and felt for the wound, which was difficult to find as the front of his suit was slick with blood and his fingers kept slipping. The wound seemed incredibly large to him, and yet he knew in reality that it was only small. The knife had been small, so therefore the wound was small.... He closed his eyes and tried to work out that if the knife was small, and the wound was small... how come the pain was so large?
He gave up trying to work it out and slumped back to lay upon the cold, hard floor. He was in an alleyway in a warehouse section of the town, virtually derelict. It was dirty and was ruining his new Armani suit... he hated it when he ruined his new suits within days of purchasing them. He blinked rapidly a couple of times; he was starting to drift and he knew that it was not a good sign.
He'd tried to move when he'd first been wounded, to get back to his car and call in via his radio, but every attempt to move had sent him spinning back into the blackness. Like he figured, the knife might have been small but the wound was big.
Why the hell had he agreed to meet Clayton Fryer out here in this disused section of town...? He should have been suspicious, but no, he was in a hurry to pick Benny up from work, and Clayton had insisted that it was something big and wouldn't take up much of his time. It was virtually on the way, only a detour of five minutes or so; he could meet with the snitch and be back to pick Benny up before the Mountie got off duty.
That was how it was supposed to work... only it didn't. Once he'd arrived at the warehouse, Clayton was nowhere to be seen. He'd wandered a bit, getting away from the car in his search for the snitch, then he'd heard a noise and turned down this alleyway between two large, imposing warehouses. Once he was far enough down, the attackers had struck. It had been swift and Ray was not expecting it.
He'd caught the flash of light on metal, but the knife had been buried deep within his middle before he could react fast enough. The pain had pole-axed him, taking his breath and strength at the same time. He had gripped weakly at one of his attackers and slid down the other's body with a hissing gasp, to lay curled upon the dirty ground.
The man had laughed; it was not a pleasant sound to Ray's ears. A hard kick had followed and that had sent him spinning into unconsciousness, to awake a while later, bleeding all over the floor. He'd managed, after several attempts, to get his handkerchief wedged over the wound, held loosely in place by his belt, but it kept slipping and wasn't really doing any good.
He'd also tried to use his phone to summon help, but his attackers had seen to that as well: the small mobile was now just a pile of crushed circuits and plastic, laying at his side. Ray knew that whoever had attacked him had meant for him to die - slowly. The derelict, deserted location, the destroyed phone and the injury that he had sustained were all geared towards leaving him laying there in the filth to bleed to death. Tilting his head, he looked up at the sky; he tried to see how long he'd been laying there and if darkness was approaching. Slowly, agonisingly, he pulled his arm up to glance blearily at his watch. It too had been broken, smashed beyond repair - whether in the short fight or deliberately by the attackers, Ray could not say... all he did know was that he was suddenly more upset by the destruction of his watch than he was by his own injury. Benny had given him that watch for his last birthday, and now it was broken - just like him - and fairly soon, he was sure, he would be as dead.
***
Constable Benton Fraser waited patiently for an hour after his shift for his friend to arrive. Ray was rarely late, and if he knew that he was going to be, then he usually contacted the consulate to let him know.
With a sense of growing unease, Benny re-entered the consulate and headed towards the phone, intent on contacting the precinct to see what had delayed Ray.
It had been a bone-weary day and Elaine was just leaving for home when the phone on her desk began to ring. She looked at her bag, just ready to sling over her shoulder, then at her coat, back to the phone and then the door. Finally, with a loud sigh of frustration, she snatched up the offending receiver. "Yes," she snapped. Her frown of annoyance turned to a smile of pleasure as she continued, "Oh... it's you, Benny."
She listened for a few moments, glancing over at Detective Ray Vecchio's desk as she did so, then she answered, "No... no, he left about an hour and half ago... was on his way to meet you," she offered for good measure. "He's not there yet?" she repeated, "but he should have been there ages ago." Then her face cleared and she interrupted the man on the end of the line. "Wait a minute... he got a call, just as he was leaving...." She shut her eyes as she tried to remember the half-heard conversation that she had listened to as she passed Ray's desk earlier. "It was from a snitch.... Yes... an informer - Clayton... I think."
"Clayton Fryer?" Benny asked, his memory supplying a mental picture of the snitch in question. Fraser had never really liked the man; he seemed too shifty and too willing to change sides for the cost of a dollar.
"Yeah, had information on a big job... wanted to meet Ray right away..."
"Any idea where, Elaine?" Fraser asked, his concern growing.
"No..." she began, the frown reappearing. "Ray took the message and then headed out the door... but he obviously didn't think that it would take long, otherwise he would have given you a call," she added.
"He's not arrived yet," Benny stated again, not liking the thoughts that were starting to form in his mind.
"Maybe it took longer than he thought," Elaine offered, not sure what advice to give the Mountie about his friend's delay.
"He has his mobile," Benny stated. "I'm sure he would have given me a call if he was going to be late."
Elaine pulled a face which Benny could not see. While she adored Fraser and everything that he did, she did find his ability to worry about Ray disturbing. Before Benny had arrived in Chicago, nobody had really worried about Vecchio - once, she remembered, nearly a day had passed before anyone at the precinct had realised that he was not at his desk. On that occasion, a family crisis had been the reason... and yet, since Benny had befriended the Chicago cop, nearly everyone knew where Ray was - if only to tell the Mountie when he called. This time Elaine shrugged and offered weakly, "I'm sorry, Benny, I didn't hear where the meet was going to be, and Ray didn't say."
Benny began to chew upon his bottom lip as he worked through his problem. After a few moments' silence, Elaine offered, "Do you want to me let Captain Welch know that Ray's missing?"
This got Benny's attention, as he remembered the last time he had done that and Welch had put out an APB on Ray, only to have the man picked up by brother police officers doing something that he shouldn't have been. Ray was still annoyed that he had been caught sloping off work. "No," Benny snapped, then apologised for his harsh words by saying in a kind tone, "I don't think that will be necessary for now, Elaine... I'll contact the captain if Ray doesn't turn up."
"Okay, but don't leave it too long," Elaine advised softly. "You know the kind of trouble Ray's likely to get himself into."
"Yes... yes, I do...." Then, shaking off the mental image that conjured up, he continued, "Thank you kindly, Elaine." Before she could replace the phone, he asked, "Do you know where I might be able to find this Clayton Fryer?"
Elaine pulled the phone back to her ear just in time to hear the last words; she frowned a little as she tried to recall some of the addresses that Ray had given her for his little rat-faced snitch. "You could try the Sham Jam," she offered, recalling that name the last time Ray had had to meet the man.
"Sham Jam?" Benny ventured, his tone uncertain.
"Yeah," Elaine ploughed on. "It a jazz joint over on 6th and Main... you can't miss it."
Benny looked at the phone and wondered if Elaine was having him on, then decided that - with Ray missing - she wouldn't. So he thanked her kindly again and gently replaced the receiver.
***
Ray came awake with a jerk and groaned at the tearing pain this action caused. He was aware that he had only been unconscious for a short while. Yet, he also knew that with each passing moment he grew weaker and that, maybe, the next time he slipped into unconsciousness he might not awake.
As he lay there, he thought back over the last weeks, trying desperately to figure out who had attacked him and why - who would want him dead? With a sigh of frustration he realised that there could be quite a number of people on that list, but why attack now? What was so important that he should die now? At the moment he wasn't working on any particular cases, nor was he due to appear in court in connection with any... so why? And, if this was a revenge attack, why hadn't the person who was paying for it been on the scene to see his demise? Most of the people he knew who wanted him dead would have insisted on being there and using the knife themselves, of that he was certain.
As he lay there, his mind kept tracking around and around, until at last he let out a anguished groan of pure frustration.
"That's your problem," a voice stated from behind him with cold disdain.
Twisting his neck at the noise, he let out a hiss of pain that turned into a groan of annoyance as his dead father stepped into his line of vision.
"Go to hell, dad," Ray gasped, slumping back on the ground. 'Great,' he thought, 'just what I want when I'm dying.'
His father, meanwhile, just smiled coolly at his words and offered about an icy glare, "Already there, son... already there."
Ray licked at his lips and said with feeling, "Well, it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."
The ghost looked down at his son, then moving over he leant against the wall so that he was in Ray's direct line of vision. "I told you that being a cop was a sap's game," he began. "I always knew you'd end up bleeding your guts all over the floor."
"Go away," Ray repeated with feeling, not capable of handling the words he knew his father would toss at him.
"Who did you upset?" his dad suddenly asked, and the question threw Ray for a moment. "What poor schmuck did you railroad into the joint this time?" his father continued.
"What?" he gasped, not really following his father's question.
"Who did you persecute, annoy... bug... to get a knife in the gut?" The ghost repeated the question slower, as if talking to an idiot.
"I don't know who attacked me," Ray offered, tilting his head slightly so that he didn't have to look at his father.
"I bet that Mountie's got something to do with it," his father stated firmly, as if all his suspicions about the man had been confirmed along with the attack.
Ray fought down the growing bitter anger and replied sharply, "Benny had nothing to do with this..." then added for good measure, "he wasn't even here."
"See," shot back his father. "I told you he couldn't be trusted to watch your back."
Ray opened his eyes and glared indignantly at the older man before snarling, "You never said that... you never gave a damn about me, or gave me any advice that I could use without having to be hosed down afterwards." It was the longest sentence that he'd spoken since his injury, and it left him feeling light-headed.
"No?" the ghost asked in the tone he used when he was purposely doubting what Ray was telling him. Ray had nicknamed it his 'I don't believe a word Ray says' tone, and Ray hated it.
"Look, if I'm going to die," Ray stated matter-of-factly, "I would much rather do it on my own, if you don't mind."
"I always suspected that you were a coward," his father said, his voice dripping with disgust. "I just never realised how low a coward you really were."
"What?" Ray asked in surprise, before gasping out, "Where the hell did that come from? You used to tell me that I was too low a life-form to know about honour, so how the hell could I know about being a coward?" Even as he spoke, Ray wondered why he was bothering to argue with the ghost who stood before him. The man had given him nothing but pain in life, and it now looked as if he was going to continue until his death
"You..." the ghost said, pushing off the wall and coming to crouch down beside his injured son. "You're a Vecchio, for Christ's sake... act like one."
"What are you talking about?" Ray finally had to ask, as he was totally lost by his father's attitude.
"Someone stuck a knife in your gut and all you can do is lay there and accept it."
Ray closed his eyes and considered counting to ten in the vain hope that his father might just disappear, but when he opened them again he was still there, looking even angrier. "What would you like me to do... jump up and chase after them?"
"No, but you could try to figure out who did this to you."
"And then what...?" Ray asked in growing frustration. "Leave a name written in blood beside my body?"
His father gave him a funny look before he stated firmly, "It's going to rain before morning."
Ray blinked a couple of times before he smiled weakly and answered, "With my luck, that figures."
"So," the ghost stated firmly, his voice tight with anger, "whoever did this is going to get away with it."
"Looks like," Ray shot back in a tired tone, closing his eyes and once more shutting out the man he had grown to hate. The pain was starting to call upon his attention again.
Silence followed and, after a while, Ray thought that his father had left him, until a quiet voice whispered in his ear, as if tempting a child with candy, "They might go after your Mountie friend."
Ray snapped open his eyes and looked deep into his father's lined face. There was a smile lingering about the thin lips, and Vecchio knew that his father actually relished the thought. "Damn you," Ray hissed. "Damn you to hell," knowing that what his father had said could very well be true - and, while he was prepared to meet his maker, he would not accept Benny's death so easily.
"You already did," his father retorted just before he disappeared.
***
Benton Fraser was growing more and more concerned with each passing moment. After his conversation with Elaine he'd made his way over to the Slam Jam Jazz club in the hopes of finding Clayton Fryer. The pretty barmaid had informed him that Clayton had been thrown out the night before and was not expected back. She had taken pity upon his dismayed expression and told him that he could try another bar further up the road.
He had arrived at the bar just in time to see the man he was seeking slip out of the front door and stagger along the pavement. It was obvious that he was the worse for wear, although whether from drink or drugs, the Mountie was not able to say. Moving with surprising speed, Benny managed to catch up with Clayton just as they were passing a dark-walled alley. With ease, the Mountie caught and dragged the other man into the darkness, where he pushed him up against the wall, giving him no opportunity to either fight or escape.
Upon closer inspection, Fraser saw that Clayton was not in any condition to either fight or flee. He was as high as a kite, the smile that was plastered across his face gave evidence that he was not even aware that he'd been kidnapped into the dark alley or that he was even being threatened.
"Where's Detective Vecchio?" Benny demanded, giving the man a slight shake to get his attention.
"Is that a real wolf?" Clayton asked, looking blearily beyond the red-clothed man who held him up against the wall.
Fraser shot a quick look at Diefenbaker who just tilted his head, as if understanding the question but choosing not to dignify it with an answer.
"Yes," Benny said before demanding again, "Now, where is Detective Vecchio?"
"Vecchio.... Do I... know you?" Clayton asked, now turning his fading attention upon the man who held him.
"Not exactly... but I'm a friend of Detective Vecchio. Now... answer the question." As he asked, Fraser shook the man he held, starting to loose his temper. He now knew for certain that something very serious had happened to his friend, and this junky that he now held had the answer to his whereabouts.
"I don't know," Clayton mumbled, eyes now fixed firmly back upon the wolf.
"Listen to me, Mr Fryer - if anything... anything has happened to Detective Vecchio, I will personally see to it that you suffer the consequences." Seeing that Clayton's glance was still upon the wolf, he also added, "And so will he." As if understanding his friend's words, Diefenbaker snarled, showing an impressive row of teeth.
Clayton Fryer was a coward. He lived among the lower life-forms that crawled about the sewers of Chicago. He was a survivor, and that ability now came to the fore as he looked into the eyes of the man who now held him. This man meant business, and Clayton knew from past experience that men who meant business usually hurt him.
"I swear... I didn't know... they were going to hurt him," he began to babble, the words tumbling over themselves in his hurry to get them out.
"Who...? Who was going to hurt him?" Fraser demanded, fear clutching at his stomach. When the man didn't answer straight away, he gave him another forceful shake and Diefenbaker growled for effect. It worked, because Clayton paled and began to gibber again.
"I don't know who they were, man... they paid me in trade.... All I know was that... I had to contact Vecchio... at the station... ask him to meet me... at the warehouse."
"What warehouse?"
Reality suddenly struck Clayton and he knew that if he spoke now, then the men who had attacked Vecchio would come after him. As if sensing this, Benny leant forward and spoke very clearly and precisely as he said, "Don't worry about them... worry about me." The look deep within his eyes convinced the rat-faced snitch that Fraser was the more immediate danger.
"Warehouse on Crandom and 119th," Clayton spluttered and, before he had finished speaking, the Mountie had released him and was heading out of the alley with speed. The snitch watched him go with a sense of growing horror: once Vecchio was discovered dead, then his life would not be worth a dime. With this thought in mind, he slipped out of the alley and headed towards the nearest bus station.
***
Ray was desperately trying to make his way back to his car. Somehow he had to get to the radio and warn Benny of the danger of attack. He was no longer thinking of his own existence, but whoever had wanted him dead would more than likely want his partner on his many cases dead as well. With this knowledge came the certainty that his continued association with Fraser was going to put the other man's life at risk, and if he ever got out of the alley alive he was determined to change that particular facet of his life - no matter how much it hurt Fraser, he had to protect the other man.
Reaching out, he attempted to pull himself up again; it was a fatal mistake as, with a gasp of agony, he crumpled to the ground to lay as still as a puppet that had had its strings cut.
***
Fraser stepped out of the taxi and held the door open for Diefenbaker. As he bent to close the door, he leant in and asked the driver, "Will you remain here and wait for me?"
The man looked over at him and nodded once, then returned his gaze to the deserted road. Fraser took him at his word and smiled before he slammed the door closed and began to walk away. He'd not gone more than ten steps before the car behind him revved its engine and sped down the road away from him, to disappear around a corner.
He watched it go with only a slight knot of concern; his main attention was on finding Ray. To that end, he continued his path and, turning a corner, he spied the green Riviera and broke into a trot. Upon reaching the car, he leant down to look in the window and could see that no damage had been done to the vehicle; this gave him a slight hope.
Spinning about again, he pointed down the road and instructed Diefenbaker in a firm tone, "Dief, find Ray... find Ray."
The wolf gave him a lopsided smile, before he sniffed at the car and began to trot off along the road. Fraser gave the car one last look before he sped off after the agile lupine. About fifty yards up the street, Diefenbaker turned into an alleyway and began to bark loudly. Fraser knew that it was his warning bark and broke into a run.
As he stumbled into the alleyway, Benny came to a dead stop, all breath leaving his body. He suddenly found it very hard to breathe. There, a short distance away, lay Ray. He was face-down in the dirt and looked, to all intents and purposes, dead. Diefenbaker raised a paw and pulled it across the back of the sprawled man, whining as he did so. This action spurred Fraser into life and he dropped by his friend's side.
With fingers that shook, he reached towards Ray's neck, hoping to find a pulse. He was terrified by the amount of blood that seemed to surround his friend. He could see a trail of it reaching back into the darkened part of the alley.
He sat back, relieved, as a weak, feeble pulse answered his questing fingers. "Ray..." he said under his breath as he bent and slowly, carefully, turned his friend over. "What have you got yourself into now?" He was unable to hide the anguish from his tone.
As he spoke, he examined the wound: it was in the stomach, which accounted for all the blood that he could see. Benny wondered how Ray could still be breathing after such blood loss, then pushing that thought aside he set about making the makeshift dressing over the wound more secure. Once that was done he leapt up and, telling Diefenbaker firmly to stay with their friend, he raced back to the car and, without a thought for the consequences, he smashed the driver's window to get to the radio. Once his message had been sent and a confirmation received, he ran back to Ray's side and remained there until the ambulance and police arrived.
As Ray was loaded into the back of the ambulance, Captain Welch appeared. He did not look happy - in fact, he looked very harassed as he ordered Fraser to accompany Vecchio to the hospital. Fraser nodded in agreement, as he had been intending to do that anyway.
Just before he stepped into the van, Fraser turned back and offered, "It might be worth your while picking up an informant of Ray's called Clayton Fryer... he was the one who made the arrangement for Ray to meet him here." With that, he smiled weakly at the other man and entered the ambulance, carefully stepping over Diefenbaker who had already sneaked aboard.
***
The night proved to be terribly long, as both Fraser and Ray's family waited for word of his survival. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, a very harassed-looking doctor walked in and, giving Mrs Vecchio's hand a reassuring squeeze, he informed the family, "Hello, I'm Dr Carter." He gave them an encouraging smile and offered the news that they had been waiting to hear: "Detective Vecchio will be fine... he lost a lot of blood and will have to take it easy for the next month or so, but the extent of the damage was very local, and luckily nothing vital was punctured."
"How long before we can see him?" Fraser asked, stepping forward and accepting the doctor's hand in a warm shake. Although he considered the man to look far too young for the position that he held, he was grateful for the assistance that he had given his friend.
"Er, well... he's in recovery at the moment and I'm not going to allow visitors until at least tomorrow..." Looking at his watch, he quickly corrected, "Until this evening."
"But my Raymondo is going to be all right?" Mrs Vecchio demanded, not willing to accept the man's words until she saw her son for herself.
Dr Carter, realising this, nodded and capitulated by saying warmly, "Okay." He held Mrs Vecchio's hand again as he offered, "Once he's settled, I'll get one of the nurses to show you in and you can see him - but only for a moment.... With his blood loss, sleep is the best cure at the moment."
"We promise not to disturb him," Fraser offered with sincerity.
With that, Dr Carter gave a final nod of agreement and left the family alone to rejoice in the knowledge that, once more, Ray Vecchio had cheated death.
***
Three days later and Ray was determined to leave the hospital. He'd recovered well from the knifing and, while Dr Carter had said he should take it easy and needed more bed-rest, he seemed to be obsessed with the desire to be free of the hospital... until, in desperation, he signed himself out against his doctor's wishes.
Fraser had tried to argue with him, but Ray was beyond hearing. Finally he had turned upon Benny and informed him that, if he wasn't going to help him, then could he just shut up and get out?
The words had shocked Fraser, causing a hurt deep inside as a crack appeared in his heart. To him this was the way that every single past friendship had gone. With silent accusation, he had taken the pyjama top from the shaking fingers and neatly folded it up, placing it within the bag that had been brought for that purpose.
"Are you going home?" he asked, after the silence grew uncomfortably long. Since Ray's injury, there had been quite a few of those between the friends, and each one caused Fraser to become more and more concerned for his friend.
"Yes," Ray shot back, leaning against the bed while he gathered his energy. An arm slipped across his middle as his stitches protested their rough treatment. He could feel the sweat upon his brow and knew that he really was not fit enough to leave the hospital, but he also knew that the intended killers were still out there and, if Benny was the next victim, then he needed to capture them before they could act.
"You really should be resting," Dr Carter said from the doorway.
Ray looked up and squinted in pain, before answering roughly, "I've signed the papers so I'm no longer your problem."
"No," the doctor answered mildly with a smile. "But I put a lot of time and effort into those stitches, and I would hate to see it all go to waste."
Ray paused and gave the man a hard look as he replied, "Once I get them pulled, I'll have them sent back to you."
The doctor snorted at these words and turned to leave. Pausing upon the threshold, he looked back over his shoulder and offered with a slight grin, "Don't bother, Detective. I get the feeling that I'll be seeing them again fairly soon, anyway."
Ray opened his mouth to give back a smart reply, but seeing that the man had gone he snapped it shut and began to mutter under his breath. Everybody from Welch to his mother had been on his case about leaving the hospital. Welch had even assigned a couple of policemen to guard his room, until he'd caused a stink, insisting that the knifing had been a failed mugging, and that was all. While Welch didn't like it, he'd been forced to remove the officers due to the lack of evidence and available funds, and Ray's insistence that it was a chance knifing.
Fraser shot his injured friend another sidelong glance, which Ray pointedly ignored as he struggled to put his coat on. Dropping the bag he held, Benny rushed to help the other man - only to have Ray push his assistance aside with a snarled, "Give me a break here... I can put my own coat on, all right?"
Fraser backed off and stood to one side, allowing the other man access to the wheelchair that had been brought in earlier. Ray looked at it and considered ignoring the rule, but he knew from experience that if he wanted to get by the nurses' desk, then he would need to be in that chair. With a sigh of frustration, he slipped into the uncomfortable seat and raised an eyebrow at Fraser, who took the handles and carefully steered him from the room.
The ride home was conducted in a strained silence. Fraser was driving Ray's beloved car and, every time they hit a bump or had a near miss, he winced, half-expecting Ray to demand that he take over the driving, which he was not in a position to do. While the injury was healing well, Ray still found it difficult to sit upright and, while walking was possible, it was a slow procedure with Ray bent over to take the pressure off his damaged stomach muscles.
As they pulled up outside Ray's house, the Vecchio clan was waiting and soon swarmed out upon the street to help its wounded member into the house. Mrs Vecchio held back as Francesca escorted Ray up the few steps to the front door. By the time he'd reached the top step, he was leaning heavily on her - a fact that was not lost on the elder female, who looked towards Fraser for support. He could only shrug; he had no idea what was driving Ray to take such risks with his life.
Upon entering the house they found a very pale Ray arguing with his sister, who was trying to persuade him to go into the living room where the settee had been prepared for him. He was weakly shaking her hand off his arm and demanding that he be allowed to go to his own room.
Mrs Vecchio intervened before the fight could turn violent and, stepping between her two children, she asked if Ray felt that he could make it up the stairs. Ray thinned his lips in annoyance and insisted that he was quite capable of walking up the stairs. His mother moved aside and motioned for him to proceed.
Slowly, agonisingly, Ray began to climb the steps. Each lift of his foot was accompanied by a hiss of breath and each step gained was a victory against insurmountable odds, until about halfway up he faltered and slipped dizzily against the wall, all colour leeching from his face.
It was the sign that Fraser had been waiting for and, tossing his hat to one side, he raced up the steps and caught Ray carefully under the arms just as he was about to faint. The extra support was all that Vecchio needed to give him access to his surplus energy, and between the two of them he was able to make it up the rest of the stairs.
By the time they entered his bedroom, Ray was nearly unconscious and it was only Benny's constant support that allowed his wobbly legs to make it to the bed, where he sank down upon the mattress with relief.
Mrs Vecchio bustled in after them and, within minutes, she had her son undressed and under the covers, where he proceeded to instantly fall into a deep, exhausted sleep.
As she backed from the room, Mrs Vecchio turned and motioned for Fraser to follow her. Once outside the room, she reached out and gripped his arm with surprising strength as she said, "My Raymondo is worried... very worried." Fraser frowned; that was not the impression he'd got. Seeing the look, she continued, holding up her hand, "I know Ray... he is not silly.... He knows that he needs rest if he is to get better, but this time... this time he's pushing himself... why?"
"I'm afraid I don't know, Mrs Vecchio," Fraser answered honestly. While he had his suspicions, he was not about to voice them to Ray's mother. "But," he continued, wanting to voice his other concerns to the woman he had come to trust as if she was his own mother, "he's been... very... negative towards me since the stabbing." It hurt him to have to admit it, but he needed someone to talk to. "I don't think that he could confide in me at the moment."
She raised an eyebrow and stated firmly, "He always reacts like that when he is hurt... always pushes the people he cares about away. But you will need to watch my son, Benny - there is something going on in his head..." she tapped her own forehead as she spoke, "and it will lead him into more trouble... I can sense it."
"Of course I will watch..." he began, but she interrupted him roughly.
"He will not let you know what he's doing... he never does, not when it's this important..." She paused and, looking down the hallway, making sure they were alone, she continued in a quieter tone, "His father... he would always shame the boy, torment him, call him names..." She paused again as she remembered. "Such wicked names," she said with shame. "He would go like this then... push his friends away, drive himself too hard, always when he thought that he had something to prove..." she paused for effect, "or protect." Giving Fraser another hard look to make sure that he understood, she turned and walked away from him.
Fraser stood dead still, digesting the words that she had spoken. While he could see that Ray might feel the need to protect him, he was not sure that he fully understood the rest of the conversation. Why would Ray turn away from their friendship, and how was that protecting him? And Ray's father had been dead a long time... hadn't he?
"Not long enough, if you want my opinion," came a voice from behind him. Spinning about, Benny saw his own father standing in the shadow. Fraser noted with slight surprise that the ghost was back in his Mountie uniform. Seeing the look his son gave him, he did a slow turn.
Moving to stand nearer to his dead father, Fraser asked, "What is that supposed to mean?"
His father pulled a face and wiped at his nose in disgust. "Met the guy... nasty piece of work."
Fraser was stunned. "You've met Ray's father?"
"Yes." He leant forward and confided, "You've got to believe them when they say that they are all-forgiving, to let a guy like that in..." He stopped, as if he was about to reveal something important. Pushing whatever it was aside, he continued, "Just thought I'd pop in and see how he was doing." As he spoke, he pointed towards Ray's bedroom door.
"He's doing better," Fraser answered automatically, his mind still shocked by the knowledge that his father might know Ray's. He opened his mouth to ask his father a question, but stopped when he realised that he was now alone. Giving the corner where his father had stood another long look, he shook his head and made his way back into Ray's room. He had taken a few days off work to watch over Ray... even if he didn't think he needed protection, Fraser was not so sure - especially after Captain Welch had informed him that morning that Clayton Fryer had been found down near the bus depot with his throat cut.
***
Ray awoke slowly. It had taken him several attempts to be able to open his eyes and focus on his surroundings. He tilted his head and noted with some annoyance that Fraser was sitting dozing by his bed. Over the three days in hospital, he had done everything possible to push the other man away from his side - and yet the more he pushed, the harder the other man seemed determined to remain there.
Licking at dry lips, he rested his head back upon the pillow and re-thought his strategy. While one part of him wanted to keep his friend close, he also knew that whoever had failed to kill him would try again - and if Benny was also a target, then having them together only increased the risk to Fraser. Also, if they thought that Fraser was no longer important to Ray, they might not consider him a target.
"Do you want a drink?" Fraser asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.
"No," Ray refused with bad temper.
"How about some painkillers? Dr Carter gave me a prescription that we've had filled." As he spoke, he reached over and picked up the bottle.
Ray repressed a sigh and retorted, "Look, I don't want a drink, nor painkillers... all I want is some peace and quiet and, with you here, I'm not getting any."
"Would you like me to leave?" Benny asked in a quiet tone, not wanting to hear the reply he knew he would get. When the answer came back, he closed his eyes before he stood up and moved towards the door, unaware of the slump in his shoulders as he opened and closed it.
Vecchio was very aware of the other's hesitation and hated snapping at him. Seeing Benny go was exactly what he wanted, then seeing the stooped shoulders as he left Ray felt even more like a heel and wanted only to call him back and apologise. He opened his mouth to do so, but was interrupted by a flaring of pain from his middle and, by the time it had abated enough for him to take in his surroundings, it was too late... far too late.
***
Ray awoke early the next morning and, pushing back the covers, he very carefully slipped from his bed, hissing as he strained his injured muscles. With slow steps he made his way to the bathroom. Upon returning, he stopped and looked at Fraser, who was standing by his open doorway.
"Need any help?" Benny asked, motioning back towards the bed.
Ray gave him a hard look before he shook his head and answered, "No..." Then he added for good measure, "I feel a lot better this morning, so why don't you return to the Consulate... you must have duties there that need your attention more than I do."
Benny considered his friend's appearance and fought back the urge to inform him that nothing was more important to him than their friendship, and he wanted to shake the other man until he told him why he was so intent in pushing the Canadian away. Instead he just shook his own head and replied, "No... there is nothing there that I need to do."
Ray wanted to open his mouth and yell at the other man, wanted desperately to use the words that his father had tossed at him, that had so effectively hurt him in his youth, and he wanted to alienate his friend to such an extent that he would leave and never come back. He managed to open his mouth, but the words - while forming in his mind - never reached it. Standing there, stooped over, he was looking at a shadow of his friend. The man looked as if he hadn't slept a wink in the last few days; his hair was untidy, his eyes were suspiciously red and the pain was so evident in them, and while Ray wanted to hurt him, he found that he was not his father's son. Instead he said, "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Benny... I've been such a bastard to you, and you don't deserve that."
Fraser straightened, an intent expression covering his face. Those were the first honest words that Ray had spoken since the stabbing. "Why?" he asked, needing to discover why his friend had been pushing him away for the past week, but it was like a shutter had fallen across Ray's features as he frowned and, withdrawing, moved forward and stepped past the Mountie to enter the bedroom, firmly closing the door behind him. It was as if he had never spoken the words of apology.
Fraser stood for many minutes, half-leaning against the door, battling with whether to force his way in or not. In the end he slowly turned and walked away, descending the stairs with a heavy tread.
Ray, meanwhile, was leaning upon the other side of the door, shaking. How could he have been so stupid as to let Benny see that he didn't mean the words he spoke? How could he have been so weak? With a heavy heart, he heard the slow retreat and closed his eyes against the growing pain.
"You always were weak," a voice informed him from across the room. With a start, Ray looked up and saw his father sitting upon the end of his bed. He fought to keep the twisted expression from his face. He wanted to hurt the man who sat before him, and yet he knew that this creature was only a figment of his tormented mind.
"Get lost," he snapped with more feeling that he actually had for the man.
"They will try again, you know," the other man continued as if Ray had not spoken. Looking pointedly about the room, he finished, "And you brought it home to my house, with my wife and daughters in the adjoining rooms."
"No-one is going to hurt anyone."
"Right - and you're going to see to that," came back the sarcastic reply. "The great big man of the house."
"Yeah, that's right," Ray shot back with determination. As he spoke, he slowly moved and began to gather up some clothes. He paused as he looked at his suits, knowing from experience how painful the waist band would be about his middle. With reluctance he moved towards his sweat pants.
By the time he was dressed, he was sweating profusely and wishing that he could just crawl back into the inviting bed, but he knew that if he was going to find the people who had attacked him, then he had to be seen on the streets.
He sat on the bed for a few minutes, gathering his strength and breath, then standing he slowly made his way over to the set of drawers that stood in one corner. Carefully he removed the gun he always kept hidden there for emergencies, then turning, he headed towards the door and opened it a crack, peering out. The way was clear. Moving cautiously towards the top of the stairs, he paused as he heard voices coming from the back of the house.
Slowly he edged down the seemingly incredibly long staircase, leaning against the wall for support. By the time he'd reached the bottom, he was having to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from whimpering at the pain that radiated from his stomach wound.
The voices suddenly rose as his mother and Francesca erupted into a noisy disagreement, which covered his movement towards the door. He winced as he opened it and waited to see if anyone had heard the creaking as the old wood protested the movement. The voices from the kitchen didn't hesitate as they continued to batter at each other, neither listening to the other as they tried to get their point across.
He stood upon the porch and swallowed hard. He had not really expected to get any further than out of the house, and now that he was standing in the weak sunlight, he wasn't sure where he wanted to go. His car was parked in its usual position and he ventured towards it. The steps of the porch suddenly slipping beneath his feet as the world tilted, he clung to the wooden support and waited for the landscape to right itself.
Gathering himself, he paused for a further few minutes and then walked carefully towards the car, holding his hurting wound. As he reached the car, he slowly opened the door, noting with annoyance that it had not been locked. Slipping into the seat, he hissed as his muscles protested. Fumbling under the seat, he grabbed the spare set of keys that he kept hidden there, then taking another moment to gather himself, he slipped the key into the ignition and started the engine, blinking sweat from his eyes as he did so.
He was glad that whoever had parked the car had done so with the hood pointed out into the road, as he would never have been able to twist about to reverse. In one smooth motion, he was heading out of the drive and along the road. He was free.
***
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Fraser suddenly tilted his head and listened to a noise from outside. It sounded remarkably like Ray's car. He glanced at Diefenbaker, but the wolf had sunk down, exhausted, and fallen into a light doze after the huge breakfast that Mrs Vecchio had given him.
Rising, Benny moved towards the front of the house and, opening the street door, he saw that Ray's car was, indeed, missing. The sight was like a kick to the gut, and he stood frozen for several seconds just staring at the empty spot, before reality took over and he spun about, taking the stairs three at a time. He burst into Ray's room and stood glaring at the empty bed and the roughly discarded pyjamas. Moving to the bed, he picked them up and stood staring dumbly at the blood stain that was intensely red upon the pale-coloured material.
He heard a noise behind him and, spinning about, saw Mrs Vecchio standing in the doorway, her expression one of fear as she shook her head, as if in denial of what the empty bedroom was telling her. "No... no," she kept repeating. "Not my Ray," she said as she crossed herself. "They will kill my boy, Fraser... they will kill him." Then turning accusing eyes upon the Mountie, she stated firmly, "You promised to watch him... you promised."
Fraser opened his mouth, but no words came out. How could he deny that he had failed? "I will find him," he promised the woman, as he moved towards her.
Just as he came even with her, she reached out and touched his arm, saying, "Be careful, Benny... be careful, and bring my Raymondo home to me."
Fraser nodded sharply and then was rushing down the stairs, calling for Diefenbaker as he flowed out the front door, hat held tightly in his hands. He had no idea where to start looking, but he knew that he had to start somewhere - and the bar where he'd seen Clayton Fryer come out of seemed the best place to begin.
***
Ray made it to the other side of town without incident and slowly began to cruise along the main street, looking for his usual contacts or a realisable snitch that he could apply pressure to.
The street seemed particularly empty, and Ray began to wonder if it was a conspiracy against him. He was just about to turn into a side alley when he spied a familiar figure. Moving slowly, and with great care, he reversed the car and slowly drove up behind the unsuspecting drug addict as he slouched along the road.
"Hey, Jules," Ray called, pulling the car into the kerb and leaning nonchalantly out of his open window. The effort nearly cost him his sanity, but he kept the smile fixed upon his face as he eyed the other man. "You're looking a little tense there, Jules."
Jules looked up as his name was called and, seeing who had addressed him, he began to back away, waving his hands out in front of him as he stuttered, "Me... no man, no problem, just taking some air."
Ray watched him back away slightly before he confided in a deadly tone, "If you make me come after you, Jules, you'll be taking the air in more than the holes on your face... man."
The lanky man stopped and shot a quick look up and down the street; it was surprisingly empty, and he knew that he would get no support from the few people that were about. Slowly he halted his retreat and, after a few more seconds, began to pad towards the car, defeat showing in every step he took.
"That's better, Jules," Ray encouraged, waiting until the other man had reached the car window before he asked, "Heard there was a hit out on me?"
"Heard it got you," snarled back Jules with some fire, before he wilted under the glare this earned him.
"As you can see," Ray emphasised, sneering for effort, "it wasn't successful."
"I've got places to be, man," Jules suddenly stated, starting to fidget as he looked up and down the street, his addiction starting to get the better of him.
Ray gave him a hard look as he took in the other's appearance; he looked like hell, eyes red-rimmed, he was shaking badly, unable to stop the tremors that filtered through his body. Jules was on his way to a fix and would do anything to get away. Just what Ray needed - information was a commodity that the other man was willing to trade for his freedom.
"Jules," Vecchio began, looking genuinely sorrowful as he informed the other man, "I've been having a bit of a slow day, so I'm gonna have to run you in." Ray made the motion of attempting to open his door - gritting his teeth against the swelling agony, then he paused dramatically as he caught sight of the other man's horrified expression. "That is... unless... you... can give me someone else to go after," he advised with a confident smile.
Jules licked at well-bitten lips and, bringing his hand up, he wiped noisily at his nose, ignoring Ray's grimace as he did so. "I got no info. Man, you know me..." Seeing that his plea of innocence wasn't having any effect on the cop before him, he added, "Heard about a bank job, real big... over on...."
Ray counted to five, then butted in, "Not what I'm after, Jules." He stopped to give the man another hard look; he could see that Jules knew what he wanted, but was bravely fighting the urge to tell. Growing tired of the game, Ray suddenly threw up his hands and stated, more anger entering his voice due to the pain his action had caused, "Right... then it's the lockup for you, and..." he paused for effect as he added, "it's going to take me days to get the paperwork sorted." As he spoke, he again reached for his door handle but Jules was there before him, placing his hand over the handle as if to prevent the other man from leaving his car. There was stark terror in his face; he needed his fix and Ray would, he knew, follow through his threat out of sheer spite.
"What you need, man..." he gasped, his tone now eager to please. "What you need... I got," he repeated again, this time his tone one of total capitulation.
Ray relaxed slightly back in his seat and then wished that he hadn't as pain welled again, and he had to bite his lip to stop any sound alerting Jules as to his real condition.
"You know what I want, Jules," he gasped. "They tried to take me out... and I want them..."
Jules was torn between two evils; he'd heard about what had happened to Clayton Fryer, but then again, if he didn't tell he would never make it to his contact - and that might mean that he would miss his fix. Licking at suddenly dry lips, he hesitantly informed the seated man, "Heard it was a contract, man... big bucks... out of town... up north..." He paused, looking up and down the road.
"Who took it up?" Ray asked, determined to get all the facts he needed from the lanky man, even if it meant him climbing out of his car and beating the truth out of the guy.
Jules had given up all pretence of withholding information as he offered, "Heard that there's been a couple of heavies filling in time at the Sham Jam, got tight with Fryer a few days before his throat was slit."
"Who paid it, Jules?" Ray demanded, blinking back the darkness that was edging into his vision, not willing to waste any more time with the man.
The drug addict resisted as long as his habit would allow before he blurted out, "No... name, only know it's a woman... long dark hair... stunning... like I said, big bucks... take you out... real slow, and then damage the Mountie."
Ray was stunned, his breath catching at the knowledge that it was a woman who had paid for him to die so slowly, and on top of that shock came the knowledge that there was really only one woman who matched that description and who would want him dead that badly.
"Damage the Mountie..." he repeated, his own voice barely above a whisper as he concentrated on the other's words.
"Mark his face, mark it bad... not a life contract... just a damage one."
"That bitch," Ray suddenly snarled as an image came to his mind. "That bitch... bitch, I'll wring her neck if it's the last thing I do," Vecchio vowed before he spared a glance at Jules, who had begun backing away from the car in shock at Ray's outburst. Then, seeing that Ray was too caught up with his rage, he turned and fled down the street. Ray watched him but made no move to follow, he had what he needed and he would use that information.
He sat forward to start the engine, then slumped back in his seat as the world swirled about him. He blinked, and realised that he must have passed out for a few seconds as his vision slowly came back into focus. With a shiver of fear, he knew that he had been pushing his body far too hard, and he had to finish it quickly before his strength totally failed him.
With shaking fingers, he started the car and carefully pulled away from the kerb. As he drove, he considered the information that he'd been given: Jules would not lie, his fix was too damned important to him. Also, the method of the attack now made sense - his injury had been made in such a way as to cause a slow, laborious death, and Benny was to be disfigured. It was so obvious that he wondered how he had ever thought that it was his contact with Fraser that might endanger the Mountie's life, and not the other way round. For some reason, the knowledge that this was one of Victoria's games made him feel a lot better. That kind of revenge he could handle... correction, they could both handle it together.
A thought caught at him and he felt a sudden swelling of fear. Picking up his radio, he turned it on and patched through a call to Elaine at the precinct. She was surprised to hear from him, but listened to what he had to say before she informed him that it was not her job to contact his home. He patiently explained that he was after Benny. At that magic word, her entire attitude changed and she stated that, of course, she would call Benny and let him know where he was headed. When he mentioned the Sham Jam she paused, then added in a concerned tone that Fraser had paid the club a visit the day Ray had gone missing. With a sinking feeling, Ray knew with certainty that Fraser would not be at his home but making his way to the Sham Jam, in the hope that Ray would visit it as the last place where Clayton Fryer had been seen alive.
Within minutes Elaine was back on the radio, informing Ray that Benny had left his house over an hour ago, and that Mrs Vecchio was very worried for her son, and what the hell was going on? He cut her off before she could continue her tirade and concentrated on getting to the Sham Jam Club as quickly as possible, not sure what was causing him the most pain; his rough treatment of his own injuries, or the ones he was imagining Benny receiving even as he drove.
***
Benton paused just outside the doors of the Sham Jam club and looked up and down the street. He'd been directed there after visiting the bar where he'd last seen Clayton stagger from. The beat of music could be felt even outside the heavy doors. Standing up straighter and pulling his tunic down, he gave Diefenbaker a hard look to go along with his, "Stay here." Then, pulling open the door, he entered the darkness that lay before him.
The air was thick with smoke and noise. The band was belting out a swinging blues song that picked up tempo as the singer pleaded her innocence towards her imaginary boyfriend, who was just about to leave her.
Fraser had removed his hat before he'd entered, and now he tucked it under his arm as he made his way to the bar. It was early yet, and the crowd had still to find its way to the club.
"Why, hi there, precious," a friendly voice greeted him. "Did you find your friend the other night?" the pretty barmaid enquired as she sauntered up to him, her body swaying in time to the music.
Fraser realised that she couldn't remember who he'd been looking for, just that he had been looking. "Yes, thank you kindly," he advised her, as she proceeded to flop down in front of him, leaning over the bar, her low-cut top causing him to hurriedly look away before he asked, "I'm now looking for another friend."
"Red sure does suit you, honey," she advised, as she tried to remove her chewing gum without showing the handsome man what she was actually doing. With a sure hand, she snatched it out as he looked away and pressed it firmly to the underneath of the bar. Then, licking her lips in anticipation, she continued, "What does your friend look like, baby?" she finally asked when her comment about his uniform didn't get a reply.
Fraser had been scanning the smoke-filled room, looking for any sign of Ray. Her question threw him for a moment, before he minutely described his partner. She frowned prettily, before she pouted and confided, "You know, you waste far too much time looking for other people, when I'm right here." She finished with a bright smile; that was one of her best come-on lines to date, she thought.
Benny opened his mouth and then paused, not sure how to answer the question. He was saved from further embarrassment as she was called away to the other end of the bar. She strutted away, calling, "Give me a break, Jack, the bar's open until four - you'll get your drink before then."
Fraser felt someone slip into the seat beside him and, turning slightly, he saw a heavily-built man with a scar just above his lips. The man looked like he could use a good bath, but Benny was too polite to comment on that fact.
"You're looking for that Italian cop?" the man observed, the injury to his lip giving him a slight slur to his words.
"You've seen Detective Vecchio?" Fraser asked, focusing his full attention upon the man.
"Might have," came back the cagey reply, as the man shot a nervous look about the room.
"If you know where he is, I would be most grateful if you could tell me," Benny said, smiling encouragingly at the man who sat before him.
The scar twitched, then a sneer filtered across his face as he added, "You lost him, maybe?"
Fraser opened his mouth to answer, then slowly closed it again. Every instinct was warning him against trusting this man, but he seemed to have knowledge of Ray's whereabouts - and, if that was the case, then he would have to force those feelings aside. "If you know where Detective Vecchio is, I will be willing to make it worth your while." He offered the bribe with surprising ease, as he had never offered a payment for information before, usually leaving that aspect of their investigations to his friend, but he'd seen Ray do it and knew that it usually worked faster than his having to persuade the information out of the man.
"It'll cost you fifty," the stranger demanded, and waited until the bill was slipped across. "He was here, throwing his weight about," the man kept his words vague, "but he's gone now."
"Do you know where he went?" Fraser asked, unable to keep the eagerness from his tone.
The man shot a meaningful look towards the back of the bar, then let his eyes slip back as he offered, "Was real eager to find someone." He paused for effect before continuing, "I guess he found him... or them... I saw him slip out back, about ten minutes ago."
"Out the back?" Fraser asked, a frown crossing his handsome face.
"Was walking real funny... looked like he was in some pain," added the scar-faced man, a slight smile twitching at his features as he spoke. "Was walking hunched over."
"Thank you," Benny offered, his tone filled with concern for his friend's welfare. At least his hunch had proved right and he'd found Ray. With a nod towards his new friend, he turned and began to make his way determinedly towards the back of the bar, heading towards the rest rooms and the only other exit out of the bar besides the front door.
Once he'd passed from sight, scar-face stood up and folded the fifty neatly and slipped it into his pocket; easiest hundred dollars he'd earned that day, what with the fifty the two men had given him to direct the Mountie out back and the money that Fraser had given him... and he'd only had to say what he'd been told. With another smile, he tapped loudly upon the bar to attract the barmaid's attention.
As he sipped his drink, he noted another man enter the bar. His eyes widened as he recognised the man from the Mountie's description. Swallowing down his drink fast, he beat a hasty retreat from the club.
Ray moved cautiously up towards the end of the bar and leant gratefully against the wooden surface as the barmaid sauntered up. She pulled a face as she witnessed his pale features, mistaking him for a heavy drinker in need of a swallow, and asked, "What'll you have?"
Ray opened his mouth and considered wisecracking her, but then remembered the reason why he was here. Sighing as deeply as his injury would allow, he snapped, "I'm looking for the Mountie."
"The cute guy in the red suit?" she questioned, retrieving the chewing gum and flicking it back into her mouth. "He was here... just now," she offered, then added with a wistful smile, "Just saw him go out back.... to the john, I think..."
Ray straightened up, his attention now fully upon the young woman. It was highly unlikely that Benny would use the toilet in this club; he was far too fastidious for that. "Is there a back door to this place?" he asked urgently, unable to hide the trepidation in his tone.
The barmaid blinked at him for a second then, realising that something was wrong, answered hurriedly, "Yeah, but there's no way out to the alley." Thinking that maybe the Mountie wasn't really a Mountie after all, she advised, "It's blocked in... there's just a small yard."
"Call the police," he ordered, gritting his teeth against the pain as he pushed himself away from the bar and headed in the direction that she had pointed.
"The police?" the barmaid retorted in shock, but Ray was beyond her hearing as he made his way as swiftly as he could toward the back of the bar.
As he made his way down the darkened corridor, he heard the sounds of a vicious fight coming from behind a door at the end of the hallway and, without a thought for his own safety, he burst out into the small courtyard. There were two men attacking Fraser; Ray could tell right away that they were used to fighting together, as they moved in tandem, one feinting to the right and leaving Benny open for an attack from the left as he twisted to defend himself.
Ray saw the flash of a blade as he yelled out to attract the attack away from Benny and threw himself into the fight. As he did so, he realised that he could hear Diefenbaker barking madly over the high wall that separated the courtyard from the alleyway behind, and knew that the wolf must be trying desperately to get to his master.
His rebel cry alerted both men to his presence, but only one spun to meet his attack. Using his full body weight Ray slammed into the man, causing him to tumble backwards. How Vecchio kept his balance he would never know, as darkness swirled about him. Pushing that aside, he grabbed up an empty crate and swung it down upon the prone man, who flung up his arms and tossed it aside with ease as he sprung to his feet, his face red with rage. Ray suddenly knew that he was in serious trouble, as his legs suddenly gave out under him and he fell to one knee.
"Ray..." He heard his name called as if from a distance, and saw Benny turn in his direction. As if in terrifying slow motion, Ray saw the other knife-wielding attacker grab this opportunity and begin to slice the blade in the direction of Benny's exposed face. With no sure knowledge of how he'd retrieved it, Ray fired his gun. The noise vibrated about the small yard, the action preventing the other brute from continuing his attack on Vecchio, as he saw his partner flung back against some crates, his chest blown wide by the shot. With a cry of strangled rage, he turned back upon Ray... but never made it to the fallen man as he was caught from behind and dealt a vicious blow to the back of the neck, just as a deranged-looking wolf sped into the yard from the bar and clamped itself to his raised arm. He cried out in alarm and fell to the ground under the wolf's attack.
"Hold him, Dief," Fraser ordered as he rushed to Ray's side. The man had collapsed as he fired the gun and now lay deathly still upon the ground. So still that Benny knew a moment's fear as he frantically felt for a pulse. With relief, he sat back upon his haunches and looked over at the dead man. It had been a close call; he'd seen the knife heading towards his face mere seconds before Ray had fired.
Fraser looked up as the yard suddenly became very crowded with police officers, as they spilled from the door that led to the bar. He was lucky, because they recognised both him and Ray, and soon they were loading Ray into the back of an ambulance and once more Fraser and Diefenbaker were heading towards another long vigil in another hospital waiting room.
***
As it turned out, it wasn't another waiting room but the same one, and the same young doctor appeared at the doorway a short while later.
"Dr Carter," Fraser said, moving to stand in front of the man as soon as he entered. The man in question smiled warmly at the Mountie and looked expectantly about for the rest of the Vecchio family. Not seeing any sign of them, he raised an eyebrow in question. "They are caught in traffic," Benny hastened to explain. "They will be here shortly."
"Well," Dr Carter began, with a shrug of his shoulders, "it's a bit of a wasted journey, I'm afraid." Then, seeing the look of total distress this caused, he hurried on, "I'm sorry... I never meant...." Dr Carter stopped, realising that he was making matters worse so he just took a breath and hurried on, "Detective Vecchio is going to be under for the rest of the day and won't be up to receiving visitors until tomorrow."
"How is he, Doctor?" Fraser demanded, unable to hide his worry.
Carter took pity upon the man and advised with a gentle smile, "Well, he totally ruined my stitching and lost all the blood that we pumped into him, but the good news is that he should recover, if he takes it easy and does as I tell him this time."
"Oh, he will, Dr Carter..." Fraser promised, his tone indicating that it would ill-betide the injured man to cross him upon this particular matter, as he continued firmly, "he will do exactly as you tell him."
"Well," Carter ploughed on bravely, "like I said, he's out for the night, but if you'd like to just stop by to reassure yourself..." He let his invitation hang, surprised when Fraser didn't leap at the opportunity but instead chewed at his bottom lip; suddenly the Mountie was unsure of his right to visit his friend - Ray's attitude towards him of late had been cold, to say the least.
"Although I have to inform you," Dr Carter advised as he looked at the other man, wondering what it was that was giving him pause, "he won't know that you're there."
Fraser slowly nodded, a smile forming about his lips. "Thank you kindly," he agreed as he followed the man from the waiting room.
***
Ray was in pain. He reached down and felt for the wound, which was difficult to find as his stomach was swathed in what felt like miles of bandages. He swallowed hard and coughed as his parched throat protested the action. A rustling noise attracted his attention, but he didn't have the energy to open his eyes. A straw was held to his lips and a gentle voice commanded him to drink. He did as he was told, relishing the smooth liquid as it slipped down his sore throat.
Slowly he blinked open his eyes and saw Fraser standing above him, holding the cup with the straw, careful to allow him to drink without moving his head. He stared at the unmarked face and felt the threat of tears suddenly overcome him. With an effort he pushed the straw away with his tongue, and watched as Benny stepped back and replaced the cup on the side.
"How long?" Ray gasped, surprised at how weak his voice sounded. His body also felt as if he'd been asleep for a week, and he was surprised by the amount of wires and fluid there was dripping into his body.
"Two days," Benny supplied, then continued, "They decided to knock you out while the worst of the wound healed." He stopped, then added in an unforgiving tone, "Dr Carter is of the opinion that you're not a very good patient."
"Mom?" Ray asked, tilting his head and not seeing his mother in her usual place, beside his bed, when he was sick and in hospital.
"Francesca persuaded her to go home and get some sleep... she's been here for the last two days." He stopped, then added, "I promised to remain with you until she returned."
"Okay," Ray agreed mildly, slipping his head back upon the pillow and letting the weakness filter through his body. He felt as if someone had dropped a ten-ton truck upon his stomach and allowed it to park there for a fortnight.
"Is it?" Benny asked in sudden concern, leaning forward in his chair. "Is it really okay... I mean, between us?" he asked when he saw the confused look that Ray threw his way.
The confusion cleared and Ray looked slightly abashed as he stuttered, "I'm sorry about that, Benny." He paused, not sure if any words he used would be strong enough to bind his friend back to his side. "Look, I wasn't thinking straight... all right?" he confessed. Then, seeing that further explanation was needed, he offered, "I just had this crazy idea that I was endangering your life..." He paused, knowing that he wasn't making a very good job of his explanation. "What I mean is... that by associating with me, you would be caught in any crossfire that was aimed at me..." He opened his mouth again to continue his explanation, wanting desperately to get the words right, but knowing that he was failing miserably. How could he ever explain his father's visits, or the words that he had thrown at him?
A hand reached over and gently covered his own as Benny confided with bitterness, "And yet it was my association with you that nearly got you killed, Ray."
"No... don't say that..." Ray started up, but had to stop as the world pitched towards blackness with surprising speed. When it had settled again, he found that Fraser was standing over him, his face nearly as pale as Ray's.
"Ray..." Fraser demanded in an anguished tone, "don't move, you really tore up your wound." Then, standing back slightly, he ordered firmly, "You're to remain still and in that bed for at least another day, as per Dr Carter's orders, or he's putting you back under."
"It was Victoria, you know," Ray offered instead, ignoring the other's words. The hand resting reassuringly upon his shoulder trembled. "She sent them, Benny... she sent them to kill me and scar you." He spoke the words quickly, as if to say them that way would not make them sound so bad, and yet he knew that he could not leave this laying between them unsaid... no matter how much it hurt them both.
"Yes..." Fraser began, then - stopping to gather his courage - he continued, "I know, the man who attacked us... he confessed as much - even told Captain Welch where she was staying." He paused, then ploughed on, "But by the time the local police got there... she was... gone."
"Bitch," Ray snarled with some feeling, as he closed his eyes and let the growing despair sweep over him. She was still out there, and he knew that she would try again. He could feel it in his bones.
"I'm sorry, Ray," Fraser hesitantly said, slipping back into his chair, looking to all intents and purposes like a puppet that had been abandoned by his puppeteer. "So very sorry."
"You're sorry?" Vecchio repeated, opening his eyes wide as he looked at the dejected figure. "Why?" he asked in genuine surprise.
"She hired those men, Ray, hired them to kill you.... No, not just kill you, but to make sure that you bled to death slowly." He stopped, unable to continue as the image of his friend surrounded in his own blood came vividly to his mind, and he fought to keep the bile that rose in this throat at bay. He had come so close to losing his friend... his only friend.
"So?" Ray questioned, not sure where the conversation was going, but knowing that he was not going to like it.
"You tried to push me away because you thought that you were endangering me, Ray," Fraser explained in a defeated tone, unwilling to meet his friend's haunted look as he demanded, "Do you expect me to do any less?"
It wasn't really a question, but Ray treated it as if it were. "No, Benny, I don't... but I tried to protect you by shutting you out. I thought that it would work, but," he answered honestly, "all I succeeded in doing was hurting us both." He paused, unable to explain the welling pain that was seeping into his chest and causing more suffering than any knife wound ever could. "I was listening to my father's voice, Benny; I could hear him as clear as day as he told me what he thought I should do and why." He stopped, gathering his strength, as he confided, "And do you know the one thing that this whole episode has taught me?" He waited for Benny to shake his head, indicating that he didn't know, before he finished, "And that is not to give in... I knew what I was doing when I hurt you..." He paused and swallowed, closing his eyes against the pain he could see so clearly in Fraser's eyes. "I was letting him win... even from the grave... I was letting him win." He stopped and took a shallow breath as he steadied his emotions and, opening his eyes, he met Fraser's gaze full-on as he insisted, "Don't let Victoria win, Benny... my father isn't worth it, and she certainly isn't worth it." He couldn't deny his pleading tone; the matter was too important to hide from the emotions that he was feeling at the loss of this particular friendship. He'd been a fool to ever believe that he could just walk away from his Canadian counterpart.
Fraser looked at his wounded friend and saw the certain knowledge that their friendship had caused that injury, saw the pain radiating within the eyes that were now turned upon him. He knew the reason behind Ray's attempt to shut him out, could well understand why Vecchio had felt the need, and then he remembered only too clearly the pain his friend's actions had caused, the well of loneliness that had greeted him when he saw life without his best friend. Feeling his jaw tighten against the torment of his sorrow at that near loss, he forced a smile to his stiff lips and, nodding, he agreed firmly, "You're right, Ray... she isn't worth it."
THE END
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