This story is set towards the end of Season 3/4. I hope you all enjoy it.

CHAPTER 1

"Fraser, it's just one doughnut. It's not gonna do him any harm," Ray threw his hands in the air in despair as he walked out of the Twenty Seventh into the bright morning sunshine. He'd been arguing with Fraser since they left the squad room. "Besides, he did good this mornin'. We'd never have caught Sanders without him so he deserves a reward."

"Ray, you know perfectly well that Diefenbaker isn't as active as he used to be," replied Fraser, frowning. "Deep fried snacks are inappropriate."

Dief yapped and ran ahead of them across the car park.

"Don't you take that tone with me," Fraser scolded the wolf. "It's too late now anyway because you've already eaten it. I'm simply trying to look after you."

Dief stopped and turned, yawning as he did so.

"See?" continued Fraser. "Do you see what I mean? It's only eleven in the morning and already you're tired. Your diet is appalling and your exercise regime beggars belief."

Ray watched this exchange with amusement as he followed them towards his car. All he'd done was throw Diefenbaker a stale doughnut that had been on his desk since yesterday and now the poor animal was on the receiving end of one of Fraser's full-on lectures. He felt kinda sorry for the furball.

Dief barked twice and sat down.

"Oh well if that's your attitude then you can stay here," snapped Fraser. "Ray doesn't need your assistance in obtaining Mrs Dior's statement anyway." He walked briskly towards the gate, leaving a stubborn wolf to mutter a sarcastic lupine retort under his breath.

"Er, Fraser," said Ray, glancing at Dief. "Fraser…er…"

"Don't be concerned, Ray," replied Fraser without slowing his pace, "he's sulking."

"No, Fraser, it's just…er, ya forgot somethin'," called Ray, watching in mild amusement as his partner strode out of the gate.

Fraser stopped dead in his tracks and spun around. It wasn't like him to forget anything, perhaps he was unwell, he thought to himself, suddenly concerned. Maybe he had been a little harsh on Diefenbaker? He raised his eyebrows questioningly at Ray for an explanation.

"The car, Fraser!" exclaimed Ray.

Fraser closed his eyes and slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.

Ray chuckled. "Are ya feelin' OK there, buddy?" he asked as Fraser headed back to the car, carefully avoiding eye contact with a rather smug looking Diefenbaker.

"I don't know," replied Fraser, honestly. "Perhaps I should report for a medical?"

Ray opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak they were both distracted by a young man, aged no more than eighteen, who rode a bicycle at high speed through the gate. He skidded his bike to a halt and leapt off.

Immediately, Ray drew his gun. "Hey, you're trespassin' on Police property!" he yelled.

The young man threw his hands in the air, his eyes wide with fear.

"Lower your weapon, Ray," urged Fraser, "he's no threat," and he walked slowly across the car park towards their visitor. "Can we help you, son?" he asked.

"You're…you're cops, right?" asked the young man, gingerly lowering his hands and keeping one eye on Ray who had re-holstered his gun and joined his partner.

Fraser nodded in confirmation. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Jermaine," came the reply. "You should come quick, man. I…I think I just saw a kid getting shot."

Fraser nodded and made a move to follow him, but Ray grabbed his sleeve. "Woah there, buddy," he said. "Are ya really gonna fall for that?"

"Are you suggesting that this young gentleman is not telling the truth?" Fraser asked, his brow furrowing into a frown. Maybe I am out of sorts today? I really should see a doctor, he thought.

"C'mon! Please!" urged Jermaine. "It's just around the block. There were two guys in an alley, one had a gun and I think the other kid had a knife."

Fraser glanced quickly back at Ray and then ran over to Jermaine. Every feeling he had was telling him that this young man was telling the truth and if there was a chance to save a life, or maybe two, then he couldn't give in to any doubts. He picked up the bicycle from where it had clattered to the ground. "Show me," he insisted.

Jermaine nodded and gratefully jumped back onto his bike, setting off at speed with Fraser sprinting behind him.

Ray hesitated for a split second, before letting out a loud growl of frustration. "Jeez, Fraser!" he yelled, although by now his buddy was well out of earshot, even for that Super Mountie hearing of his. Ray shook his head and started to run after them. "If this is some kinda trap…" He decided not to dwell on that thought.

Diefenbaker had been watching with interest. He hadn't heard every word, but he'd picked up enough. As much as the prospect of lazing here in the sun for a few hours was appealing, he knew that his human associates were probably running into trouble…again…and no doubt they'd be calling on him to get them out of it, as usual. Dief sprang to his feet and raced after them.

XxxX

Dief caught up with Fraser moments before Ray did. Jermaine was standing next to his bike, holding it upright by clutching the crossbar, while looking around nervously.

"Was this the place?" asked Ray, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Fraser made a mental note to invite his friend along on his next early morning training run.

Jermaine nodded. "They were in this alley," he replied, "I guess we're too late."

Fraser glanced at Ray and then turned to Jermaine. "Stay here, son," he said and cautiously took a few steps down the alley.

Ray looked ahead, but saw nothing except an overflowing yellow dumpster. He sprung forward a few steps to catch up with his buddy. "You see anythin'?" he asked.

"Not at this juncture," replied the Mountie in a low voice. He was well aware that Ray's suggestion that this could be a trap was all too real.

Ray nodded silently and drew his gun. Without either of them needing to say another word they took up a back to back position and walked further into the alley, looking all around as they did so. Ray didn't like the look of the two small first floor windows that overlooked the dark space. He was glad that Fraser had his back, as always, but right now he wished his buddy had his back covered with a gun in his hand.

Diefenbaker was keeping close to Fraser's heels; even the wolf could sense the possibility of danger. They headed for the dumpster. The smell of rotting vegetable peelings and old takeaway cartons was interfering with his senses, but as they got closer he was suddenly aware of a smell he recognised. He barked quietly to alert Fraser and picked up his pace.

"Oh dear," replied Fraser, following his wolf.

"What?" half whispered Ray, but he didn't need to wait for an answer as by now they were close enough to see the body of a young man and the pool of blood that had formed at his side. Ray muttered an expletive under his breath.

A crude attempt had been made to hide the body under the dumpster, but it was clear that whoever had done the hiding had been in a hurry as an arm and leg were clearly visible without needing to move the heavy plastic unit.

Fraser crouched beside the body and checked for a pulse, even though he knew he wouldn't find one. The body was still warm, but there were no signs of life, just as he expected. Fraser glanced up at Ray and shook his head.

"I'll call it in," said Ray and took his phone from his pocket.

"What did you find?" asked Jermaine who had started walking to join them.

Fraser got to his feet and held his hand out in a 'stop' gesture. "You don't need to see this," he said solemnly. "I'm afraid we have discovered the victim of an apparent homicide."

"I told you!" exclaimed Jermaine.

"Hey, Fraser, look at this," called Ray. He'd walked back towards the main road in an attempt to find a better signal for his phone and he'd spotted something on the ground. "Is this more blood?"

Fraser walked over to him and got down on one knee. He dipped a finger into the substance Ray was pointing to. "Hmmm..." he said, rubbing his finger and thumb together.

"Don't ya dare put that in your mouth," warned Ray, forcing down the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him.

"No need," replied Fraser. "Tactile analysis was all that was required in this instance. You were perfectly correct; this is blood, although it's not fresh. I estimate this has been here for between two and four hours."

XxXxXxX

"OK kid, from the beginning again," Ray sighed and stood up from the chair. Jermaine's eyes followed him as he paced up and down. "You were just ridin' past the alley…" Ray prompted.

"Yeah," replied Jermaine, frustration starting to show in his voice. "I already told you guys all this, why are ya treatin' me like a criminal? I was just tryin' to help, man!"

"No one's callin' ya a criminal," replied Ray, "but we've got a dead guy in the morgue so we need to know how he got there and you're our only lead."

In the next room, Fraser was watching through the two way mirror. The door opened and Jack Huey walked in. "Francesca's looking for you," he said and Fraser nodded an acknowledgement. Huey turned to leave, but his attention was drawn to the events in the interview room. He stopped and listened for a minute. Then he sighed and shook his head.

"Is something wrong, Detective?" Fraser asked.

"You've got nothing on this kid have you," replied Huey, "but he's a black kid, so Ray figures he's gotta be involved somehow, right?"

"What?" Fraser was momentarily confused, until he realised what Huey was insinuating. "No!" he exclaimed, "no, not at all. Ray doesn't hold any xenophobic prejudices, surely you know that?" He couldn't quite believe that Huey would think Ray was in any way racist.

Huey waved his hand dismissively and walked out, leaving a slightly stunned Fraser watching the door close behind him. No sooner as it had shut than it was open again and Huey was back in the room. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I didn't mean that."

Fraser nodded and Huey turned to leave again. "Detective Huey," Fraser called after him and Huey turned his head. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

Huey grinned. "Sure," he lied, angry at himself for letting Fraser see into his head that way. "And Fraser," he added, "how many times have I told you, call me Jack, or just Huey."

"Right you are," replied Fraser. "Please inform Francesca that I'll be with her in a moment."

Huey nodded and left. Fraser made a mental note to keep an eye on him as he was concerned that something was troubling the Detective. He'd known Jack Huey since he'd arrived in Chicago and whilst they hadn't always seen eye to eye, particularly in the early days, Fraser had grown to consider him a friend and a trusted colleague. Fraser turned his attentions back to Ray and Jermaine.

"I wish I'd just kept on goin'," sighed Jermaine, "I gotta go pick up my Grandpop's meds. People kill each other every day in this city so why the hell did I get involved?"

Ray wasn't sure who he was directing that question to. Either way he figured that the kid was probably telling the truth though and he really was just an innocent passer by. "OK, OK, wait here and I'll get someone to take your official statement," he said, "then you'll be free to go."

Ray left the interview room and found Fraser waiting outside.

"Hey buddy," he said, "I guess ya heard all of that."

"Most of it," replied Fraser. "Are you satisfied, now, of Jermaine's veracity?"

"If that means do I still think he's lyin' then no, I think he's clean," replied Ray. "He's just gotta sign on the dotted line and then he can, er, go home."

Ray went to organise the paperwork and Fraser went to find Francesca Vecchio.

"Hi Frase,"Francesca smiled as he approached her desk, "you're looking…" She sighed and took a moment to compose herself, suddenly overwhelmed by the sight of the handsome Mountie, "…you're looking good today." She breathed slowly, feeling her body temperature rising.

"Um, thank you kindly, Francesca," replied Fraser, blushing hard. "Um, er…" he cleared his throat and ran his forefinger around the starched collar of his red tunic, "er, Detective Huey said you wanted me…er…" Fraser felt his throat tighten at the Freudian slip. "He said you wanted to see me."

"Oh, oh yes," Francesca forced herself to break eye contact with him and tried to return to her professional persona. "Here," she said, passing him a piece of paper, "I got an ID on your John Doe."

"Ah, excellent work," said Fraser and Francesca beamed at him. Fraser scanned down the information he'd been presented with. "Desmond Jackson…my goodness, he has rather a chequered past," he observed.

"Yep, they knew him pretty well over at the Twenty Third," agreed Francesca, "that holding cell must've felt like his second home. I called one of my brother's old buddies; he works with youth gangs over at the Two Three. He's going to call back and speak to Ray later 'coz he's got quite a lot of info on our guy. It seems Jackson was good friends with a few real lowlifes on that side of town."

"Thank you again, Francesca," nodded Fraser.

"Any time," she smiled.