Disclaimer: I'm just playing in Alliance's sandbox for a little while. I promise to put all the toys back when I'm done. This contains some mild language, so head's up.
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Famous Last Stands
"No, no, no…" Ray Vecchio muttered through clenched teeth as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him in hot pursuit of his partner, himself doing his level best to gain ground on a suspect who clearly had no intention of getting caught. Why is this my life?, he thought for what felt like the millionth time as he forced himself to keep pace with the relentless Mountie in front of him. Their day hadn't started – or should he say continued? – in the greatest of fashion; then again, considering the trouble they usually got themselves into, it was par for the course. Given that, Ray had hoped that that would be the extent of the excitement he'd have to endure for the day. But no, he thought with exasperation as he jumped over an overturned garbage can, hot on his friend's heels; Benny just had to spot the perp they were pursuing from the corner of his eye, a perp, it must be said, who was on the wanted list of another precinct altogether and already on the verge of getting caught in their dragnet. Which, of course, made no difference whatsoever to his partner; there was a criminal on the loose, they were in the immediate vicinity, ergo, they had to catch him. Simple.
Simple – right. On Fraser's planet, maybe, Ray thought, annoyed, as he started feeling his breath straining and his legs burning with the full-tilt run. Heaven knew his endurance had grown considerably since meeting Benny, but it still didn't make him a racehorse. Add to that the fact that he was running solely on a hastily downed coffee and bagel and a three-hour snooze… Let's hope the scumbag got so traumatized by Sergeant Preston of the Yukon as a kid that he feels the overwhelming need to surrender and saves us the trouble – yeah, as if… "Oh, for God's sake," Ray grumbled as he saw the long, narrow flight of stairs snaking up the half-abandoned building filing past them. Of course he's gonna go up those, dammit. Sure enough, the clatter of running sneakers soon bounced off the brick walls, closely followed by the sure-footed gait of RCMP-issue shoes.
Benny was nearly two-thirds of the way up when the perp disappeared into the building, the Mountie maintaining his relentless pace. Just as Ray was beginning to consider slowing down, a stream of muffled obscenities reached their ears, closely followed by the thunder of a shot. Whoa! That was no pea shooter, that's for sure, Ray reflected as thoughts of rest were quickly replaced by concern for his weaponless friend, and annoyance at him for not slowing down one bit despite what they had just heard. The annoyance was buried just as quickly by fresh worry as the heavy thump of sneakers coming in their direction grew louder and louder, meaning the perp was coming back out -- also meaning that Benny would end up right in the sights of that gun.
Finding one last burst of speed within him, Ray pushed hard against the steps until he was close enough to Benny to touch him. Stretching forward for all he was worth, he tripped his friend, sending him sprawling though the open door even as the second shot sounded. With one final push of his burning legs, Ray burst through the door, drawing his gun as he stepped in front of Benny, who was already scrabbling to his feet.
Before he could take aim, Ray felt like a great fist had landed in the middle of his chest, throwing him smack into the recovering Mountie and down to the dusty floor. As consciousness fled, Ray waited for the impact of his body against the floorboards, but it never came. He just kept right on falling, and falling...
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Constable Benton Fraser was, at first, puzzled. He did not consider himself perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. But he did have enough faith in his own abilities to know that he did not trip over his own feet. That simply did not happen. So for him to be able to chase a criminal with relative ease over a veritable obstacle course only to trip over a doorjamb was simply ludicrous. Not to mention dangerous, as their prey turned out to be armed, a fact that had not been readily apparent when he and Ray – well, he – had started giving chase.
Then, he had been surprised – first at finding himself headed for the floor a second time in less than a minute, then by the slightly ridiculous thought that Ray was actually much heavier than his slender frame would indicate. Rising to his elbow just in time to see the tail end of the shooter's sneaker-clad foot, Fraser remained still to see if he would decide to come back this way to hide, having heard the wail of approaching sirens filling the air. Apparently, the officers who, unbeknownst to the Mountie, had already been on the trail of the man had called for backup. Which meant that Fraser could concentrate on waking Ray up. And likely winding him up for a major tongue-lashing at my expense, Fraser thought with a slight wince as he moved up to his knees and proceeded to gently bring his friend back to his senses. The uneasiness Benny had felt at the thought of the rant he knew Ray had in store for him deepened into something far more unsettling as no amount of shaking or cajoling seemed to have any effect. Going against all his first aid instincts, he turned his friend on his back, fervently hoping he wasn't hurting him worse – then froze in complete shock at the sight of the blackened, nearly shredded front of Ray's coat, smelling strongly of burnt fibers and cordite. "Dear Lord in Heaven, no," Benny gasped out even as his trembling fingers frantically worked at the buttons holding the coat closed, hurrying to get to the wounded flesh underneath the fabric. Pulling the garment open with more force than necessary, he froze again at what he saw, before nearly fainting with relief: Ray was wearing a bulletproof vest – the one he had been wearing since the previous night, when their "day" had started. Things had gotten so busy that there hadn't been time for him to take it off. And thank goodness for that, Benny thought with gratitude, his heart still thumping wildly in his chest, but for a different reason altogether.
Somewhat calmer now, he reached for the straps on either side of his friend's waist to undo them and give Ray some breathing room. He paused halfway through as he heard voices, then steps moving quickly up the stairs. Biting his lower lip, Benny glanced briefly at Ray's gun, lying on the floor close to his friend, trying to decide whether or not he should pick it up. Duty to the law dictated that he do no such thing; duty to his friend dictated that he protect him from any more harm, regardless of consequences. That particular duty was winning out when he heard the steps slow down and a voice saying, "Chigago PD – don't shoot!" The owner of the voice shortly followed, his dark head peering cautiously around the door. When he saw there was no danger, he came all the way in and knelt near Benny. "Joe Malone, Twenty-Third."
"Benton Fraser, RCMP," Benny replied with a brief glance at the man as he started again on the straps.
Malone grunted. "You're the Mountie who works with the Twenty-Seventh?"
Benny smiled slightly at that; word had gotten around. "Yes."
Another grunt. "This would be Vecchio, then." Fraser nodded. "Sorry about that; seems our informant was a bit off the mark. We were this close to nailing our man when he slipped right by us. We did get him, by the way, thanks to you two. In fact, he's the one who told us where you were." Malone glanced down worriedly at Vecchio. "Is he okay?"
"I should think so, but he won't be in a good mood for a few days," Fraser replied as he pushed the front of the vest over Ray's head. "Could you give me a hand with this, please?" With Malone's help, Benny was able to remove the vest completely. "Thank you kindly," he said as he lowered Ray back to the floor with the greatest of care. With one hand resting feather-light on his friend's chest, Benny moved the other one to Ray's face, knowing the touch, if nothing else, would reassure Ray even if he wasn't conscious enough to realize it was there.
Benny's eyes widened and he felt the color drain out of him as his hand encountered cold, clammy and oh-so-pale flesh. In a flash, the hand moved down to the side of the neck, where the fingers sought a pulse, only to find none. Swallowing hard, Benny moved the back of his hand under Ray's nose, hoping against hope for a faint puff of air against his skin. Nothing. Closing his eyes and taking one deep, calming breath, Benny shook his hand and willed it to still. Easy, easy. You won't be any help to him if you crumble now. Wiping his now-sweaty palm against his pant leg, he reached out once more for the pulse point, focusing all his attention on his fingertips, on the lookout for the faintest bump against their surface. Still nothing. An instant cold sweat covered him from head to toe, nearly freezing him out. Fortunately for both him and Ray, however, his training was too well-engrained to allow any such thing. Without a word, he took off his Stetson and his coat, then, under Malone's bewildered gaze, began the process of reviving his friend.
"Shit!" Malone swore as he ran to the door. "Officer down!! Get an ambulance over here!" he shouted down to the other officers, before coming back by Ray's side even as the call for help was being passed on outside. "What can I do?"
Fraser remained silent for a beat as he concentrated on his count, then said tersely, "Breathe for him."
Malone simply nodded and focused his attention on the Mountie's hands in order to get the rhythm. When the hands stilled, he bent down and blew air into Ray's mouth. Once he was done, the hands, under the grim blue gaze of the Mountie, took up their rhythm once more…