The story is set during the second half of Season 2 of due South. I hope you enjoy it. All reviews welcome, thank you kindly.
Rite of Passage.
CHAPTER 1.
"Welsh wants to see you in his office."
Ray Vecchio stopped dead in his tracks and threw his hands in the air in despair. Today had started so well. He'd been quite happy as he drove towards the Twenty Seventh precinct this morning. The sun was shining. Maria, Tony and the kids were in Florida meaning no early morning wake-up calls and his beloved 1972 Buick Riviera had just had a tune-up and was running like a dream. He'd walked into the squad room with a smile on his face, but now it was all over.
"Good morning, Elaine," he scowled at the Civilian Aid. "And may I just say thanks a whole lot for ruining my day. Remind me to return the favour sometime," he sneered with all the sarcasm he could muster.
"Hey, don't shoot the messenger ," replied Elaine with a shrug and she returned to the report she had been typing for Jack Huey.
Ray sighed. He had a fair idea what this was about. Actually, it could be about one of two things, he realised. His mind raced as he quickly came up with a series of excuses. Ray was confident he could talk his way out of whatever trouble he was in. He'd become particularly good at it since he'd been working with Constable Benton Fraser. The Mountie had a habit of getting them both into the kind of bizarre situations for which an explanation was always demanded by Welsh and Ray had become adept at smoothing things over with his silver tongue and charming smile.
The truth was Lieutenant Welsh was learning that he'd rather not know all the details. As long as they had a perpetrator in the cells and a watertight case , Welsh had realised he was more comfortable being kept in the dark these days when it came to Vecchio and Fraser.
Ray threw his overcoat over the back of his chair, took a deep breath and strode confidently towards the office. He knocked loudly, but didn't wait for a reply before barging in.
"Sir, if this is about my expenses," he began, but Welsh interrupted him.
"I'd shut up if I were you, Vecchio," snapped the Lieutenant. "It's not about your expenses."
Ray let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, right, good...well if it's about the Nailor case, I will rewrite that report this afternoon," he continued. "And Fraser can back me up on the details."
"This has nothing to do with Nailor," replied Welsh. Then his face fell into a frown. "Wait...what was that about your expenses?"
"Oh, nothing, Sir," replied Ray dismissively.
Welsh made a mental note to check expenses claims more closely in the future. For now, though, he had something more important on his mind.
"Just listen for a minute, Detective," ordered the Lieutenant. "Superintendent Fitzgerald is coming here this afternoon."
"The Super?" queried Ray. "Coming here? This afternoon?"
"Is there an echo in here?" asked Welsh folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.
"Not that I'm aware of, sir," replied Ray with a straight face. He paused for a moment. "Oh I get it," he continued eventually. "You want me to tidy my desk. I can do that. Not a problem at all, although they do say that a messy workspace is a sign of intelligence."
"They do?"
"Yes, sir, they do," nodded Ray. "Was there anything else?"
"I admit that tidying your desk would be good," answered Welsh, "but that's not why I called you in here. You see Vecchio, he's coming here this afternoon to see you."
"Me, sir?" exclaimed Ray. Sweat started to form on his brow as panic set in. Ray's mind flew over the events of the past few weeks. The Nailor case had, admittedly, dragged on longer than he would have liked, but it was over know. He and Fraser had busted the guy two days ago and the evidence was all clean. Even Assistant State's Attorney Louise St Laurent had voiced her appreciation for the way they'd closed the case…over dinner at Luigi's, which had been a bonus.
What else? What the hell have I done to attract the attention of the guy in charge of the whole of the Chicago PD…? Oh please god, tell me this is not about Zuko…
Ray was still fighting nightmares after the death of Irene Zuko, but he was finally starting to feel he could move on. Fraser had, thankfully, stopped him doing something stupid that day and Frank Zuko was in jail where he belonged. It was over. Done and dusted. Filed under H for Heartbreak. Why would the Super be poking his nose in now, almost two months later?
"Vecchio!"
Welsh's voice cut into Ray's thoughts.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes, sir," replied Ray, blinking hard to get the image of Irene bleeding to death in his arms out of his mind.
"Don't you want to know why?" asked Welsh getting to his feet and narrowing his eyes with concern.
"Um…" Ray wasn't sure that he did.
"Fitzgerald is coming here, to the Two Seven, because he's apparently of the misguided opinion that you, Detective Vecchio, are one of the best cops in the city," Welsh explained.
Ray's mouth fell open in shock. "He is?" he said when he finally found his voice. "Well, I mean, he'd be right, of course," he added as a sense of pride overtook all other thoughts and he broke into a huge grin.
"Hmmm," replied Welsh sounding entirely unconvinced. "That may be your opinion, Detective, I couldn't possibly comment. However, Fitzgerald has a particular mission in mind and he feels you'd be perfect for the job. I've just got off the phone to his assistant at Head Office. As you're probably aware, the Superintendent has three kids, grown up kids now, of course. His eldest son, Colin, is currently the youngest ever cop to be heading up a Special Ops Task Force and his daughter, Rebecca, is the highest ranking female officer in the Hostage Negotiation Team."
"That's fascinating, sir," replied Ray, not even bothering to disguise the sarcasm in his voice. "So what's my mission?"
"Fitzgerald has another son," Welsh explained. "Ryan. He starts at the Academy in four months. Fitzgerald wants him to get some field experience first, though, so he wants his son to ride with one of the city's top officers for a few days and for reasons known only to himself he's chosen you."
Ray needed a moment to take in all this information. "He wants his kid to ride with me?" he asked. He was suddenly deflated. He'd expected Welsh to tell him he'd been recruited for a high level security mission, not a baby sitting assignment. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "You'll have to tell him I can't do it."
"Vecchio, this is the Superintendent," Welsh replied. "He tells us what we can, or can't do, not the other way around. Fitzgerald has read your file. He's seen your arrest record, read all your reports and he wants you. End of story."
"But, sir, he's got it all wrong," insisted Ray, desperately trying to see a way out. "We all know that my arrest record was appalling until Fraser showed up."
Welsh raised his eyebrows. "Are you telling me you're not pulling your weight around here, Detective?" he asked. "Are you suggesting that promotion I gave you two months ago was a mistake?"
"Er…" Ray panicked. "Er…" He suddenly realised what he'd said and he needed to back-pedal fast. "Not at all, sir," he said, laughing a deep, over the top, belly laugh. "What I…what I meant was, er…was that it has been useful to have Fraser around to help, not having a permanent partner and all. I mean, obviously I'm the one doing all police work, but it's handy to have a wing man whenever there's any rummaging in dumpsters, or leaping off tall buildings to be done."
"I see," nodded Welsh. He had conflicting feelings for the Mountie. It was true that Vecchio's arrest record had improved exponentially since Constable Benton Fraser had arrived in Chicago, but it was also true that Welsh always found himself having to explain away the crazy behaviour and bizarre methods he employed to various departments and senior officials. It seemed that Superintendent Fitzgerald, however, was only interested in the end results. The thought of the son of the most senior officer in Chicago spending any time working with Vecchio and Fraser terrified Welsh, but he'd had no choice but to agree to the request.
"So I expect to see you back here at one thirty, Vecchio," he said, reluctantly. "And bring the Mountie. Fitzgerald wants to meet him."
"Yes, sir," nodded Ray.
"Vecchio, don't screw this up," added Welsh. "You're carrying the reputation of the entire precinct on your shoulders. Understood?"
"Of course, sir," said Ray, seriously. "You know you can rely on me."
Welsh watched him walk out of the office. He sighed deeply. "Don't let me down," he muttered under his breath.
Ray went back to his desk and sat down. "This is the last thing I need," he said to no one in particular.
"You in some kind of trouble?" asked Elaine, turning around to face him.
"No, of course not!" exclaimed Ray. "As it happens I've been given a huge responsibility. Of course I can deal with it, no problem. A little more notice might have been nice, that's all," he added with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"What kind of responsibility?" asked Jack Huey, walking over to join them. "You on the next doughnut run?" He chuckled at his own joke.
"Very funny, Jack," retorted Ray. "If you must know, I'll be nurturing the next generation for a few days." He went on to quickly explain the situation to his colleagues.
"Fitzgerald must really want to put his kid off joining the Academy," sniggered Jack and he walked back to his desk.
"No, actually he wants his son to learn from one of the best. Me," Ray called after him proudly. "You ask Welsh."
"You should go buy diapers," added Elaine with a giggle. "Maybe a colouring book to keep him occupied?"
"The kid's twenty years old!" exclaimed Ray. "This is a big deal for us, OK? So quit fooling around and tidy this place up." He got to his feet and clapped his hands authoritatively. "Come on, people, let's make a good impression!" he yelled.
A few people glanced up from their desks, but no one made any move towards tidying up.
"Jesus!" he exclaimed. "What does a Detective First Grade need to do to earn some respect around here?" He sat down again and picked up the telephone. He just hoped Fraser wasn't on sentry duty today.
xXxXxXx
"Fraser!"
Less than a second after Inspector Thatcher's voice had broken the silence of the Consulate he was in her office standing to attention.
"Sir?" he enquired when she said nothing to acknowledge his presence.
"Ah, there you are," she said eventually. She thrust a piece of paper across her desk. "Read that," she ordered.
Fraser gingerly stepped forward and picked up the piece of paper. He assumed he was in some kind of trouble with the Inspector again. Their professional relationship was becoming terribly confusing to him, even more so after the incident with Lyndon Buxley and the eggs. He had definitely felt something that day when they'd been locked in the incubation room together and he was fairly certain that she'd felt it too, but he could neither explain what it was he'd felt, nor decide if it was a good or a bad feeling. Feelings confused Fraser at the best of times.
Fraser scanned down the words on the paper. "It appears to be an invoice," he said, confused.
"I know that, Fraser," snapped the Inspector. "I want you to read the small print."
"Ah," replied Fraser. "Um…Payment shall be due by the buyer to the seller within thirty days of the date of this invoice," he began. "Failure to do so will result in an additional charge of…"
"Alright, alright, that's enough," Thatcher interrupted him.
Fraser replaced the paper on her desk and looked at her with speculation. "Is there a problem with payment of this invoice?" he asked.
"No, nothing like that," she replied.
"I see."
There was a long, silent pause during which time Thatcher shuffled through some other papers on her desk.
"Excuse me, sir," Fraser began, gingerly. "But was there anything else?" He had been in the middle of writing a report and he wanted to complete it before lunchtime so he could spend the afternoon helping Ray with his reports.
"If you must know, I've lost my glasses," replied Thatcher.
"Oh dear," replied Fraser.
There was a time when the Inspector denied the fact that she needed glasses, but she had quickly realised that it was impossible to keep such facts from her observant subordinate. "Of course I only need them occasionally," she said quickly. "But it is very frustrating."
"Do you remember when you had them last?" asked Fraser.
"If I remembered that they wouldn't be lost!" snapped Thatcher impatiently. She got up from her desk and crossed to the window. "But I'm sure they must be here at the Consulate somewhere."
"Of course, I'm sorry," replied Fraser, sheepishly. He was only trying to be helpful, but yet again the Inspector had found cause to criticise. "I will endeavour to locate them for you," he added. He stood rooted to the spot waiting for an acknowledgement from the Inspector, but she was just gazing out onto the street below.
The truth was the missing glasses had just been an excuse for Thatcher to call him into her office. Of course she wanted them found too, but she rarely wore them anyway so it wasn't urgent. However, seeing Fraser was urgent. Well, perhaps not so much urgent as necessary. Thatcher needed to see him. Why she wasn't sure, but the thought had come from deep within her and she hadn't been able to shake it. She needed to see him, to talk to him, to do something that would clear the fog in her mind that appeared whenever she thought about him.
Benton Fraser irritated her to the point of distraction. He was the single most annoying officer she'd ever had under her command and yet she couldn't bear the thought of not having him around. She had hoped to make sense of it this morning, just by calling him in to read some small print. Now he was here, though, she did not know what to say to him,
"May I be dismissed?" Fraser asked hopefully, but before the Inspector could reply the telephone on her desk began to ring.
Thatcher spun round just as Fraser moved to answer it.
"Leave it," she ordered and he stepped back again. "Turnbull can get it."
"Sir, may I remind you that Constable Turnbull is outside on sentry duty," said Fraser.
"Oh." She couldn't let it ring, it might be important. She stared at Fraser. "Well, answer it then!" she snapped, immediately kicking herself for her abrupt manner.
Why can't I just talk to him normally…? Why is it so hard for me to have a conversation with him…?
Fraser picked up the receiver and reeled off the official greeting in dual languages. He was a little surprised to hear Ray's voice on the other end. Immediately he realised from the tone of his friend's voice that it was an urgent matter. "Yes…yes…I see," he said as he listened to Ray's explanation of his impending mission. "Right…well, um, I'm not sure if I'll be available this afternoon," he said, with a sideways glance at Thatcher.
The Inspector sighed in resignation and waved her hand. "Just go," she mouthed.
Fraser hesitated and clasped his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. "But…but your glasses, sir," he said.
"I'll pull Turnbull off sentry duty and he can find them for me," she replied with another sigh.
"Thank you kindly, sir," replied Fraser with a nod of appreciation.
Thatcher returned to staring out of the window as Fraser quickly told a relieved Ray that he would meet him at the station in an half an hour. She realised that whatever it was she thought she was going to say to Fraser was probably best left unsaid anyway. For now, at least.
xXxXxXx
"Is my tie straight?"
"To the naked eye, yes." Fraser watched in mild amusement as Ray picked tiny bits of lint from the arm of his Armani suit.
"Hair?" Ray asked, holding his head up high.
"Perfectly coiffed," replied Fraser.
Ray held out his hands. "Look, Benny, I'm shaking," he admitted.
"Ray, your appearance is perfectly respectable," said Fraser with a frown. "You have no need to be nervous."
"No, no need at all…" nodded Ray. "Only my entire career!"
"Superintendent Fitzgerald has asked you to give his son a taste of police work," replied Fraser. "You simply have to go about your daily activities. You have nothing to be worried about. The Superintendent has every confidence in you."
Ray nodded and a smile returned to his face. "Yeah, he does, doesn't he," he agreed. As nervous as Ray was about meeting the Superintendent, he was deeply honoured that he had been chosen for this task. He had endured some gentle ribbing from Huey and the other detectives, but he knew it was only because they were jealous.
Elaine appeared from Welsh's office carrying any empty tray. "They're ready for you," she said. "He seems really nice," she added with a smile. "He thanked me for the coffee."
Ray nodded, took a deep breath and glanced at Fraser. "No Inuit stories," he said and, ignoring Fraser's puzzled look, he strode into the office.
"Hello, sir," said Ray, extending his arm for a handshake. "May I say what an honour it is to meet you."
Superintendent Fitzgerald was a tall, square jawed man with close cut hair and a tidy moustache. Ray was taken aback at how imposing his presence was. Of course Ray had seen him at various official events over the years, but this was the first time he'd been this close and he'd certainly never spoken to him before.
"Detective Vecchio," beamed Fitzgerald, shaking Ray firmly by the hand. Then he noticed Fraser standing behind Ray and he offered his hand to the Mountie. "And you must be Constable Fraser," he said.
Fraser nodded. "I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance," he said.
"OK, enough of the formality," chortled Fitzgerald. "We're all in this together, we're all cops just doing our jobs."
"Absolutely," nodded Ray with a grin, allowing himself to relax a little.
This guy doesn't seem so bad after all…
"This is my son, Ryan," continued Fitzgerald. "Come on, son," he urged. "Don't hide in the shadows."
Ray hadn't even noticed the tall, skinny young man standing in the corner.
"Hi there, Ryan," grinned Ray. "So I hear you're gonna be spending a few days with me."
"So my dad tells me," replied Ryan with a shrug as he stepped forward. He looked much younger than his twenty years. He had an unkempt mop of blonde curls which seemed at odds with his smart shirt and trousers.
More handshaking ensued and Fitzgerald spoke to Fraser about his work as a liaison officer. "You're an asset to this Department," he concluded. "If only all of my officers were as dedicated to the search for justice as you and Vecchio."
"Ah, well, it comes from here," replied Ray, thumping his chest with his fist. "From the heart, I mean," he added in case it needed clarifying. "It's an honour to serve. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than wearing this badge and being out there making the streets safer for the citizens of this fine city. Don't I always say that, sir?" he looked to Welsh for affirmation.
Welsh almost choked on his coffee. "Um…um…all the time, Vecchio," replied Welsh when he'd recovered his composure.
"That's wonderful to hear," smiled Fitzgerald, taking Ray at his word.
"So when do we get going?" asked Ryan. "I've been waiting for this my whole life! Let's go bust some bad guys!"
"Ryan, you know this experience isn't about busting bad guys," his father frowned at him. "I want you to learn about day-to-day police work."
"Can't wait," replied Ryan, dryly.
"Well, I'll leave you to it," said Fitzgerald, ignoring his son's less than enthusiastic response. "Thanks again, Lieutenant, for agreeing to this. Take good care of my boy, Detective," he added and with a final round of handshaking he left the office.
"Vecchio has a lead to follow up this afternoon," Welsh explained to Ryan. "Your father's right, there's a mundane side to this job." He was still not completely sold on the idea of this, but although it hadn't been a direct order, there was no way Welsh could refuse a request from the Superintendent. His first impression of Ryan had only served to concern him even more.
"Oh, sure, I know that," nodded Ryan, nonchalantly. "I was just kidding. I live in a cop family, I know what's it's like."
"Good," said Ray, as they all headed for the door. "Then you also know that the junior officer buys the doughnuts."
Ryan scowled behind his back and followed them both out into the squad room.
"In the RCMP, certainly in the more northerly outposts, it is customary for a new recruit to be given gifts on his, or her first day as good luck tokens," Fraser explained as they walked down the stairs. "For example, I was presented with a walrus carved from driftwood and a pendant made from caribou antler."
"Oh, geez, now I feel left out," replied Ray, sarcastically. "No one ever gave me a pendant made from dead animal parts."
"If you like I could…" began Fraser, earnestly, but Ray stopped on the stairs and spun round to interrupt his friend.
"No," he said, forcefully. "I'll live without, if it's all the same to you."
Fraser shrugged and they continued to walk to the car. Diefenbaker came running over to join them. Fraser made a mental note to ask the wolf where he had been all morning, but now was not the time.
"Is that a wolf?" exclaimed Ryan, freezing in his tracks as the animal bounded over.
"This is Diefenbaker," Fraser explained. "He won't harm you."
"Unless he wants to," noted Ray.
Ryan looked uneasily at Dief, but his concern was forgotten when he saw Ray's car. "Wow, nice wheels," he said admiringly.
Ray rolled his eyes. "This is not just my wheels," he replied. "She is a work of art. A thing of beauty and I don't want her blown up again, so just keep your hands to yourself, capiche?"
"Blown up?" queried Ryan with concern as Ray held his seat back for the young man to get into the back seat of the car as Fraser did the same on the other side for Dief.
"Never mind," replied Ray, dismissively. He dropped the seat back into position and was about to get in himself, when Fraser spoke across the roof of the car.
"May I just say, Ray, I was…well, I was moved by what you said back there in the Lieutenant's office," said the Mountie.
Ray looked at him with a puzzled expression. "What exactly did I say?" he asked suspiciously.
"About the sense of honour you have in carrying your shield," Fraser explained. "I have a similar feeling about this uniform." He smiled proudly. "It was good to hear you say it, that's all." Fraser blinked to clear the tears of pride which had formed in his eyes.
"Ha!" laughed Ray, throwing his head back. "Sorry to break your heart, Benny, but that was just for the Super's benefit."
Fraser's face fell. "You mean…you mean you're not proud to be an officer of the law?" he asked.
Ray laughed, about to return another snarky remark, but then a recent memory flashed into his head and the laughter faded. The last time he'd worn his own uniform had been at Louis Gardino's funeral. Had he felt proud to be wearing it that day? Under the circumstances pride had been the last thing on his mind. Did he feel proud to be able to rid the city of lowlifes like Frankie Zuko? Of course he did. Despite what happened to Irene, he could still be a cop. He could still make a difference and now maybe part of him was doing it for her.
"Course I am, Benny," he replied quietly.
Fraser understood. He always did. He nodded thoughtfully and they got into the car.
They had barely driven out of the car park when Ryan leaned across and tapped Ray on the shoulder. "OK, you can pull over here," he said.
Ray glanced at Fraser who appeared to be as puzzled as he was. Fraser turned in his seat to face Ryan. "Our scheduled meeting is twenty two blocks from here," he began. "Now as much as I'd be happy to walk the distance, it would be rather time consuming. Even at an average walking speed of five kilometres per hour it would take…"
"Just stop the car," snapped Ryan.
Fraser turned back to Ray and shrugged.
"This had better be good," grumbled Ray as he pulled the Riv into a space outside an office block. He switched off the engine and he and Fraser turned to face Ryan. They were completely taken aback by what they saw.
Ryan was holding out a bundle of folded dollar bills. "Here's two hundred bucks," he said. "I figured this would be enough. So now you can let me out of the car. I'll go and hang out at the mall with a buddy of mine, maybe catch a movie, while you guys go do whatever it was you were gonna do today and my Dad doesn't need to be any the wiser. Deal?"