Chicago General Hospital ….
Meg sat in the rigid, plastic chair by the bed. The room lights had been dimmed to a single light over the hospital bed. The sound of nurses and equipment filtered through the closed door. A harsh, disinfectant smell permeated the room. The scent Meg couldn't get out of her sinuses was Fraser's. She still heard his voice shouting for her to get down.
"If I hadn't insisted on going with him, he wouldn't be lying there." She let out a shuddering sigh. She hadn't cried yet. It still didn't seem real that Fraser had been shot in the back, again.
"You can't leave me, Fraser, you can't give up. You've never called me by my first name." Meg wiped her eyes, thinking how silly that sounded. She just wanted to hear him say something, anything. It wouldn't have mattered if it were one of his flimsy, implausible excuses.
"I know I told you to forget our contact, I ordered you to. I was, I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have given you an order I couldn't follow myself." She looked at his peaceful face, an oxygen tube hooked on each ear, other monitor wires running from beneath his hospital gown. Meg took his hand between both of hers. It felt cold as she fit her palm against his.
"Turnbull is taking care of your wolf. The poor thing won't eat. He said it's whining for you." Meg tried to focus on other things. Welsh had called as had Frannie and Mrs. Kowalski. Everyone was worried about Fraser.
Meg could still feel the weight of him on top of her as he tackled her to the ground, both of them landing hard. Fraser had smacked his head against the concrete sidewalk, pinning her down. He'd seen the reflection off of a gun barrel and turned to shield her. Meg would feel responsible forever. She'd never had a subordinate officer put themselves on the line for her before.
"I didn't expect to see you here." The blond Ray staggered into the dark room. When he stepped into the dim light Meg saw fresh bruises beginning on his face and a hollowness in his eyes she hadn't noticed before.
"Are you alright, Detective?" She quickly laid Fraser's hand down and stood up.
"Yeah, I'm just greatness." He shrugged, his light eyes steady on his friend's still form. Part of Meg feared Ray at that moment. She knew he could be impulsive and unpredictable, always threatening to kick someone in the head. His whipcord lean body and boxer's hands could do damage if he had a mind to.
"How's Fraser?" Ray asked, his voice low as he stared. He reached up to run a hand over his jaw. Meg saw drying blood still oozing from cuts on his knuckles.
"He's in stable condition, the bullet broke a rib but didn't hit his lung. The doctor is more worried about the head wound right now." Meg informed him. "You're bleeding, let me see your hands." She reached out to offer help, hands open.
"Ah, it's nothin'." He waved her off, his hand slapping the slack material of his trench coat. Looking at him more closely, Meg saw a small cut above his left brow and one on his cheek.
"Come on, Detective, Fraser's alright for the moment, let me tend to you." Meg reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder but thought better of it.
"Yeah, okay." Ray shuffled toward the bathroom of Fraser's private room. His eyes still scared Meg. They seemed so chillingly hollow. She wondered who he'd fought with.
Meg turned on the cold water and put Ray's hands beneath the stream while she found a wash cloth and bandaging material. The harsh light overhead really brought out the bruises on his face and the dampness on Meg's cheeks.
"May I ask what happened?" Meg asked nonchalantly, dabbing lightly at the oozing scrapes on Ray's hands. She saw blood on the toes of his heavy biker boots.
"I caught the SOB." He stated flatly, staring at something only he could see in the mirror.
"Did the suspect resist arrest?" The Inspector ventured a quick look up at him. Ray rolled his shoulders, jaw clenched as he waited for her to finish.
"Somethin' like that, least that's what the report'll say when Welsh sees it." A menacing smile pulled at his lean face. If his hands and face were any indication, he'd beaten the suspect to a pulp.
"Oh." Meg said, paying closer attention to her work. She didn't have anything to say for or against it. She didn't know if she could have stopped herself from doing the same thing.
Footsteps outside the bathroom broke the silence between Meg and Ray. A slim, sour faced nurse stepped inside the room. A stethoscope hung around her neck.
"It's after visiting hours, you shouldn't be here." She popped her fist on her hip and glared at them.
"Yeah, whatever, go pull the thermometer outta yer ass." Ray stepped toward her. Aghast, the nurse took a step backward.
"Well, I never! I'm going to call security." she marched back into the hallway.
"You do that." Ray growled.
"She's only doing her job, Detective." Meg admonished softly but with a raised brow.
"And I done mine tonight, I got the SOB who shot Fraser." Ray stepped away from Meg and into the hospital room. The nurse had left the front door open. He shoved it closed.
Meg took a fresh wash cloth and began tending the cut on Ray's brow. He hissed and cursed under his breath but she didn't quit. She cleaned and bandaged the cut quickly. The faint scent of alcohol drifted off him.
"Why were they shooting at you and Fraser tonight?" Meg spoke softly, nothing like her usual, brisk tone.
"I don't wanna talk about it." Ray shrugged and stepped through the bathroom door.
"I want to see the shooter brought to justice as much as you do, Detective." Meg stepped back, laying the wash cloth on the sink. She had no jurisdiction to compel him to answer her question. The lady Mountie hoped he saw her as an ally when it came to Fraser. She felt guilty for insisting to go, to prevent an incident. Instead, she'd put Fraser in the path of a bullet.
"Me and Fraser, we been investigatin' a city alderman for buyin' votes, nothin' special, but this guy, he's got connections we didn't know about." Ray answered.
"Mafia connections?" Meg surmised.
"Yeah, Devil's Band, they sent a heavy hitter from home sweet home." Ray chewed on his bottom lip, both hands on his snake hips.
"Oh dear." Meg had heard about the raucous biker gang. They smuggled drugs and contraband across the US/Canadian border worth tens of millions of dollars every month. They'd expanded as far south as Mexico.
"Our alderman's got a piece of the action at the port." The Detective ran his hand through his already wild, blond hair. He cursed the alderman under his breath, calling him everything short of a jersey milk cow.
"If the gunman is a Canadian I can bring my government into this case." Meg offered, her mind already compiling a list of people to call the next morning.
"I dunno what he is exactly, Huey and the Lieutenant pulled me off 'im, sent me home." Ray shrugged. All he knew for certain was frustration, bone weariness and the urge to find a liquor store and drink it all. "If Fraser were okay he'd take one look at the guy and tell us the guy's favorite number 'er somethin'."
"Yes, he has an uncanny knack for that sort of thing." Meg agreed. The Mountie knew the difference between expensive and cheap wine from a single sniff, or when Turnbull had switched furniture polish brands.
The hospital room door flew open. A heavyset guard filled the door way, the sour faced nurse behind him.
"It's after visiting hours, you'll have to leave." The guard rested the heel of his hand on a billy club hanging from his belt. Ray swept back his trench coat, displaying his service revolver.
"We were just on our way out." Meg stepped between them. "Fraser is in good hands, Detective." She turned toward the unpredictable officer, her voice firm.
"He'd better be." Ray stepped forward, letting his trench coat fall back into place. Meg collected her own coat and caught up to Ray. Together they walked to the parking garage.
"Need a ride?" Ray asked casually as they exited the elevator.
"Yes, thank you, my car is still at the consulate." Meg answered, pulling her purse closer to her side in the dark, cement garage.
Ray unlocked the passenger side door of his beloved GTO silently. Meg let herself in and closed the door carefully. Ray slid in a moment later. He shoved the key into the ignition then sat back, his head resting on his chest. They sat in dark silence. This would have been a time for Ray to talk to Fraser, to sort his thoughts out. Something about his friend helped him think clearer. Once upon a time, his ex-wife had helped him do the same thing.
A minute later, Ray snapped his head up, eyes wide open. He started the classic muscle car and backed out of the parking spot. The engine purred like a lion, full of power and pleasure. Meg gripped the underside of the seat as they swung around corners and zipped down the ramps. She didn't dare say a word, remembering the darkness she'd seen in the detective's eyes.
At the consulate, Ray pulled along side the walk way, heedless of the fire zone. Meg opened her door and stepped out. She wanted to say something to Ray, but what?
"Let me know if the hospital calls, okay?" Ray spoke first, staring up at her through the open door.
"Yes. Will you do the same?" She asked, leaning down to see him better.
"Yeah, sure. G'night." The Detective bid her, waiting for the car door to close. Meg obliged. She stood on the sidewalk and watched the gleaming, black car disappear around the corner. Fraser had a core of nurses and doctors to take care of him, but who did Ray have? Meg couldn't help but wonder.