"Hey, Benny. Benny. Benny... hey Benny."
Fraser continued to stand like a statue, and Ray laughed. "See how annoying that is?" He tapped his friend between the eyes. "'Tock.' What are you thinking in there? I always wonder." Fraser continued to look seemingly oblivious to Ray's actions. Ray rolled his eyes. "Hello? Earth to Mounty, are you there?"
A gaggle of girls walked by, giggling. They slowed as they passed the red suited Mounty, seeming to discuss something.
"They're looking at you Fraser..." Ray pointed out the obvious. "What is it with you and the ladies? Is it your cologne? Nah, you smell like soap and carbolic. Come on man, don't you see that? You're a tourist attraction." One of the gigglers paused for a moment, then darted out of her group, offering a camera to Ray with that particular mix of shyness and flirtation known only to teenage girls. Ray smiled. They reminded him of his sister Francesca... though to be fair she should have grown out of her teenage phase by now. On her it wasn't so sweet and innocent seeming.
The girl with the camera blushed and giggled, as her friends huddled together, whispering behind their fingers.
"Do you think you could take a picture of me with your friend," the girl asked, in a broad New York accent, confirming that she and her friends were indeed tourists.
"Why, thank you kindly, I'm glad to help," replied Ray, tongue in cheek.
The girl stood next to Fraser, and got her picture. Retrieving her camera she ran back to her flock of friends, blushing and grinning at her own audacity.
"Enjoy the rest of your trip, ladies," Ray declaimed as they disappeared into the Chicago crowds.
Continued silence from the red suited statue. Ray sighed and looked at his watch. "Ten minutes," he said, and sighed again. "Okay, so I'm an idiot, got here early... I'll just sit over here till hell freezes over or you come off shift, that okay Benny?" Ray paused, allowing a pause in the "conversation", though he knew Fraser wouldn't reply. He shrugged, and opened a newspaper, shaking it out. Something to read on the consulate steps while waiting for that magic moment when Ben decided to stop being a sculpture for the day.
He wondered, for the umpteenth time, "what does he think about, standing there for hours at a time?"
…
The art to standing sentry for hours on end is to not think. Fraser stands sentry, and doesn't move, and doesn't think. He doesn't think, he never thinks, about a little boy standing in a wardrobe, obeying a last command.
The clock struck twelve, and Fraser blinked, coming out of his trance like state. He had obviously been aware of Ray, and the girls, and the four other groups of tourists who had stopped to pose with him, not to mention the toddler who kept poking him to see if he was real. If necessary he could have walked backwards into those memories and retrieved any relevant information. But that wasn't thinking, that was observing. For most of his sentry duty he occupied himself by managing his blood pressure, his heart rate, flexing his muscles in rotation, so as to prevent pins and needles, and stave off any light headedness. It would never do to pass out on duty.
Fraser has never passed out on duty. Again, he doesn't think of the six year old in the closet.
"Good day, Ray. Are you working?"
"Nah, I've got extra hours owing to me. Are you off now?"
Fraser checked his watch, and nodded. It was a reflex action, to check his father's watch. He already knew the time. "It would appear that I am."
"Good, so we can go get something to eat... let's try not to get into anything crazy today, okay? Just... pizza."
"Why would we get into anything crazy?"
"Well, just because that's what you do. You're like a crazy magnet. You can't walk down the road without a piano falling on your head."
"Well, that's not at all accurate, Ray. I've never had a piano fall on my head. Although there was this one time when a piano was being delivered to a school in an Inuit village and somehow it got loose on the ice... it was quite a challenge catching up with it..."
"I don't want to hear about it. They were hiding midget smugglers in the piano to infiltrate the Territories, weren't they?"
"Well, no Ray, that's not what happened at all, although it was a Baby Grand, so I suppose it could have been used for some kind of smuggling, now that I think about it... it would explain why it was so very badly out of tune. Of course, that could have been the cold..."
Ray shook his head and laughed. He never quite knew whether Fraser was joking or not when he told these stories. He liked to think that at least some of the time his partner had his tongue planted firmly in his cheek.
"Come on, let's go to that new place, I like the look of the menu."
"You're the expert on Italian cuisine, Ray."
"That I am."
Nice to be an expert on something of course.
Their meal was, of course, interrupted by something crazy. It always was.
…...
"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray."
Ray blinked, and stopped looking at the waitress's legs. "What, Fraser? What?"
"Are you aware that there's a person hiding under our table?"
"Excuse me?"
"There would appear to be a small child hiding between our table and the wall." Fraser was whispering. "He's using our legs for cover."
Ray was about to look under the table when Fraser blocked with his hand. He shook his head, and continued to talk soto voice. "I don't think he wants attention drawn to him."
Now that Fraser had drawn Ray's notice to the small person under the table it was impossible to ignore. How had Ray not noticed that? The waitress's legs had a lot to answer for.
"If the kid doesn't want attention drawn then he shouldn't be creasing up my trousers," Ray hissed.
"I think he's scared of something, Ray."
"Are you sure he's not just playing hide and seek?"
"Almost certain." Fraser paused, and seemed to be listening. "His heart rate is uncharacteristically high for a child his age, and he's breathing rapidly and irregularly. He appears to be frightened, and trying not to cry."
"How long has he been there?"
"About five minutes. He crept here from behind the curtains when that man at the counter came in." Fraser creased his brow thoughtfully. "He seems to be making inquiries as to the location of a child."
"So, what, the kid's hiding from that man?"
"That would appear to be a logical deduction, yes."
A swift moment of nausea resolved into an angry knot in Ray's throat. He darted a glance at the man Fraser had indicated. He was tall, very white, almost translucently so, but with near black hair, wearing jeans, denim shirt, leather jacket. Although Ray didn't know for sure that this person had committed a crime he seemed to feel it in his guts. Broad hands. The knuckles scuffed as though in a fight. Ray's instinct, as a policeman, as the child on the wrong end of a fist, combined. The guy was dirty.
Blinking hard Ray looked away again, out the window. Gently he dropped his hand, and felt for the boy's head. It was curly. He could feel the little body stiffen under his palm. Bending his head to his plate, as though examining his food intently, he whispered through the table, "don't worry kid, we won't let him get you." The promise was out before he could stop it. He realised even as he was saying it that he had no idea who this man was. It could be that he was the kid's father, that at the end of the day the boy would be forced to go back "home". He lifted his hand off the kid's head, before allowing his fingers to clench into a knot. Placing his fist on the table he closed his eyes, and concentrated on breathing. Behind his lids there came the flash of a belt, and he flinched, despite himself. The belt was years ago, but it still bit. He opened his eyes.
"Ray?" Fraser looked concerned. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah... I'm fine."
The guy at the counter finished questioning their waiter. "Hey," he looked across at them, casually. "Have either of you seen a kid come in here?"
"I haven't seen a kid in here," Ray stated, truthfully. "Have you seen a kid in here?"
Fraser, for once, lied creditably. "No, I haven't seen a child in here."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. If you've lost a child you can always make a report to us." Ray pulled out his badge. "We're police officers, always happy to help."
The man looked warily at them. "I thought your friend was a door man, or a valet or something."
"He's a Mounty."
"Ah, okay that's alright then. I'm sure my son just ran ahead to my wife, that's all."
"Fine," Ray continued to play the concerned police man. "But if you have any trouble, just let us know."
The man nodded, and exited sharply.
…...
Dinner had turned to dust for Ray. He and Fraser ate slowly, until they were sure the man wasn't coming back.
"I think it's safe now," Fraser spoke. Finally, Ray allowed himself to look under the table. All he could see was a mop of black curly hair hiding behind knees with arms crossed in front of him, guarding his face.
"You can come out now, kid. He's gone."
The boy peeped over his knees.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
Snuffling, rubbing his eyes, the boy came blinking out from under the table. Ray caught his breath.
The boy's face was swollen and purpling. A black eye, split lip, cut to the cheek. Someone had used this kid as a punch bag.
"Did he do this to you?"
The boy shook his head, proving as he did so that he was a poor liar. The fright in his eyes, and the way he kept glancing at the door told a completely different story.
"So why were you running from him?"
The boy began to step back. Too aggressive, Ray thought, angry at himself. He should know better, he of all people should know better than to push.
"Hey, never mind. Look, we got plenty of pizza left. How about you help us finish it?"
The boy stood and thought. "Are you really police officers?"
"Well, yes we are. I'm a policeman from right here in Chicago, and my friend here is a Mounty from Canada."
"What's Canada?"
"It's a place where they don't tell lies, everyone is very polite, and they all help old ladies cross the road."
"My friend Ray is exaggerating the qualities of Canada," Fraser interrupted.
"But not this particular Canadian. He is very good at helping old ladies cross the roads."
The boy looked at Fraser solemnly.
"What's a Mounty?"
"Well," Fraser replied, "it's just like a regular police man, but we get to ride horses."
"Do you have a horse here?" the boy asked, suddenly interested.
"No, but I have a wolf at home," Fraser smiled. "If you don't help us finish the pizza, then I'll have to bring it back and feed it to him, and well, let's just say cheese doesn't agree with him."
"Can I really eat it?"
"Course you can," Ray pulled a triangle of pizza from the plate and handed it to the boy, who looked at it as though he'd never seen food before.
"Thank you," he said, then started, urgently, to eat.
…...
Back at the station house the boy looked forlorn, legs swinging off an adult sized chair. Fraser was introducing him to his lupine companion, explaining how they met.
"Do you call him "Dief" because he's deaf? That's what my Granny says, 'are you deef?' When I don't do something she asks I mean."
"What's your Granny's name?"
"Granny," the boy replied, as though the answer were self evident.
"Of course," Fraser replied. "Silly me. So, what's your name?"
"Colum."
"Colum? That's a nice name. Unusual."
"So's Deefybaker."
"Agreed. Do you have a second name?"
The boy looked at him, and chewed his swollen lip. "Ow," he said. "I don't know."
"Okay, Colum, that's fine. Now, we're just going to see the police doctor about those bruises, and then... well, we'll figure out a nice safe place you can stay tonight."
"Will the doctor make me better?"
"I should think that she can help."
The boy went shy, and looked at his feet. "Can I stay with you and Ray and Deefybaker?"
"Well, Ray and I don't live together..."
The boy pondered.
"I hope you don't mind, I amn't being rude, but can I stay with Ray?"
Internally Fraser breathed a sigh of relief. He'd do anything to help the boy, but his apartment wasn't exactly designed with kids in mind. Ray's Mom would definitely enjoy coddling a little boy, and the food situation was bound to be much better. Fraser had his skill set, but cooking wasn't among them. Admittedly he was a better cook than his grandmother, but then who wasn't?
"That's fine, Colum. Dief and I can visit."
The boy brightened. "Thank you."
…...
"So, who is he?" Welsh seemed resigned rather than adversarial, for once.
"I'm afraid we don't know," Ray answered. "Nothing's come up on missing persons yet."
"Actually, we do have a few leads," Fraser countered. "I believe the boy is probably of Irish extraction, based on his name, and the fact that his grandmother speaks a Northern Irish dialect."
"Where do you get that from?" Ray should know better than to query his friend's deductions, but sometimes they still surprised him. "You've never met the woman."
"According to Colum his grandmother says 'deef' instead of 'deaf.'"
"Is that it?" said Welsh, "she could be German or Dutch..."
"Granted. However, his accent, though Americanised, has a few anomalies. For example, he pronounces 't' sounds in the middle of a word as 't' rather than 'd'."
"How else would you pronounce 't'?" Welsh was beginning to sound annoyed.
"Well, an American, or come to that a Canadian, tends to say a word like 'better' so that it sounds like 'bedder', particularly in this neighbourhood. Colum pronounces it more like an English speaking European. 'Be ter.'" Fraser looked thoughful. "Also, he pronounces his 'rs' hard when compared to American, or come to that English norms, clearly defining them at the end of a word. And rather than saying 'aren't I', he says 'amn't I', which is an archaism that has survived in some Irish dialects. So I would assume that he's been raised in a family with some Irish influence."
"Okay, so we've got a boy who grew up in America with an Irish grandma." Welsh shrugged. "It's a help, I suppose." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and stretched. "Okay then, keep broadening the search. Somebody somewhere must be missing this kid."
As the door to the Lieutenant's office shut behind them Ray glared at his partner. "You know, you could have shared all that with me before we went in. How come I always look the idiot?"
Fraser blinked, startled. "You don't look like an idiot Ray... admittedly the shirt is a little colourful, but I think you pull it off."
Ray sighed and went to his desk. There was a child protection order he needed to get hold of if he was to bring Colum home safely that night. "Better get cracking Fraser. Oh... and you and Dief are invited for dinner tonight. Mom's really excited about having a little kid in the house again, and wants to thank you for your do goodedness in rescuing waifs and strays."
"As I recall you did a lot of the rescuing yourself, and you saw off the man he was hiding from with your energetic display of your police badge."
"Yeah, and you lied to his face, Benny." Ray laughed, then quoted..."'I haven't seen a child in here...'"
"Oh my, I did lie, didn't I?"
"Like a pro..." Ray clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm proud of you Benny boy. So, see you and Deef around six?"
"Will do." Fraser cleared his throat nervously. "Will Franny be there?"
"Oh, word's got around," Ray laughed. "She wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Oh dear..."
...
As it transpired Fran wasn't as ferociously flirtatious as usual. The Vecchio women were instantly enamoured of Colum, and made a big fuss of him. Fraser watched, with a slight frown on his face, as the boy earnestly embraced everyone in sight. Of course, the Vecchio's were delighted by how friendly the lad was. Fraser however knew from long police experience that children who are overly affectionate with strangers have often been starved of affection. A child could go two ways, either fixing themselves upon any sympathetic adult, or closing themselves off entirely. It was obvious which way this child had turned. An attachment disorder he thought, the boy has been traumatised.
By whom, he wondered. The pale man in the restaurant seemed the most obvious culprit, but there must have been others. This wasn't a reaction to short term stress and loneliness. This boy's hunger for love was bone deep.
Fraser watched the boy, an answering ache in his heart, somewhere in the dark. A sliver, a tiny tiny shard of ice, deep down, and hard, and cold.
For a second his eyes drifted shut. Little Benny … standing guard with the night pressing his skin. The moment passed, and, as always, Benton didn't remember that he had remembered.
...
That night Ray woke, to discover that there was a monster in the room. For a brief and terrified heart beat he thought he heard his father's feet stumbling drunkenly towards him, and he braced himself for the beat down. His arm was thrown over his head and he was flat against the wall before he realised that the monster was dead. The old man might haunt him, but a ghost couldn't touch him. He was safe.
He lay silently, wondering what it was that had awakened him. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he realised that there was a shadow at the end of his bed. Cautiously he sat up, reaching slowly to the drawer where he kept his gun.
Then he realised. The shadow at the bottom of the bed resolved itself into the figure of a small boy, curled up, with his fingers in his mouth. His breath was snuffly, the swelling in his face making him snore a little.
Ray lay back down, and stared up into the darkness, listening to the boy breath. He remembered breathing through cracked ribs, every breath pain. He was the 'clumsy' boy... football injury, basket ball... he was a running joke at school. He remembered his nose clogged up with blood, and breathing through his mouth. Kids actually believed him when he said he'd walked into a tree.
The boy slept curled up like Diefenbaker on the end of his bed. Ray stared at the night and did not sleep.
...