It's Not a Rollercoaster
but we can still blame it on Canada
A Due South fanfiction
by
CanonAntithesis
Summary: It's REALLY cold in Chicago.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. This fanfiction is based upon the Alliance Communications television series Due South. All characters and situations other than my own are the sole property of Atlantis Alliance.
Chapter 1
A blast of arctic air and snow blew open the door to the 27th Precinct as Constable Benton Fraser helped an elderly woman into the lobby. After Diefenbaker glided through the door, Fraser immediately shut it after struggling against the strong winter wind.
"Right this way, ma'am," he said to the old woman as he ushered her up to the desk sergeant. "This officer should be able to aid you."
"Thank you so much, young man. I don't know what I would have done without you," the elderly woman gushed to the tall Mountie.
"My pleasure, ma'am," the young Canadian replied.
Fraser reached up, by force of habit, for the brim of his Stetson in order to properly tip it to the woman, only to realize that he wasn't wearing it. On this, the coldest day in Chicago history, he was wearing his muskrat fur hat for the second time since coming to Chicago.
The first time he wore it was on the day he met his current supervisor, Inspector Thatcher. In fact, it was at her less than gentle insistence that he do so. Now, however, it was justified.
With real temperatures hovering at twenty-seven degrees below zero and wind chills of negative forty, Fraser felt it was justified. Still… he did miss his Stetson.
As he walked away, he heard the old woman inquire about the status of her Harley which had been demolished by a City of Chicago snowplough.
Upon entering the squad room, Fraser walked immediately to Ray's desk while Diefenbaker made his usual rounds collecting treats from various dependable humans around the large room. Ray wasn't there, so Fraser removed his James Bay storm coat and draped it carefully on the back of the chair. He removed his cap and carefully placed it on his lap and settled down to wait for his friend. They had arranged to meet here, but the rough weather was probably holding him up.
Raised voices from a few desks away quickly caught Fraser's attention.
"Did you actually graduate from high school? Because I find it hard to believe, man." Detective Jack Huey was obviously frustrated with his partner, Thomas Dewey.
Dewey sat slouched down in his office chair with his legs sticking straight out, the high polish of his Italian loafers tapping excitedly on the old, worn floor. Despite the cold weather, he was wearing a forest green dress shirt and tie with a coordinating brown suit jacket to match those expensive shoes.
"I'm just saying," started Dewey, "that I'm pretty sure that's the name of that new rollercoaster at Six Flags. You know, the one where you're tilted face-down for the whole ride."
Huey, who was leaning on the edge of his desk, looked like he was ready to throttle Dewey until he spotted Fraser across the room and called for him to join them.
"Fraser! You've heard of the polar vortex, right?"
"Yes, I have. Why do you ask?" Fraser asked as he arrived at Dewey's desk.
"Because this idiot," Huey explained while throwing a thumb towards his partner to specify to which idiot he was referring, "thinks it's an amusement park ride and I say it's responsible for this crappy weather."
"If I may," Fraser started as he picked up a piece of paper and a pencil from Huey's desk. "I'll explain." He drew a rough sketch of the Northern Hemisphere and added a line starting in Northern Asia and sweeping down to Chicago before heading back north towards Canada's east coast.
"Looks like a giant smiley face," commented Dewey.
"Shush and listen. Maybe you'll learn something," returned Huey.
"A polar vortex is a persistent, large-scale cyclone located near either of the Earth's poles. The polar vortices are located in the middle and upper troposphere and the stratosphere. They surround the polar highs and lie in the wake of the polar front. These cold-core low-pressure areas strengthen in the winter and weaken in the summer due to their reliance upon the temperature differential between the equator and the poles." He continued to add arrows and swirls to the drawing to help the officers understand his explanation. "They usually span less than 620 miles in which the air circulates in a counter-clockwise fashion. As with other cyclones, their rotation is caused by the Coriolis effect. The Arctic vortex in the Northern Hemisphere has two centers, one near Baffin Island, also known as Qikiqtaaluk in Inuktitut, and the other over northeast Siberia."
Fraser paused to glance up at the two detectives. Their eyes were completely glazed over in confusion or lack of interest… or both.
Dewey shook himself out of his stupor and gently elbowed his partner to get his attention. "Hey, when this winter's over, how 'bout we take a Saturday and go to Six Flags?"
Huey nodded slowly, "Sounds like a good plan, man."
Before Constable Fraser could continue with his lecture, Ray came into the squad room, followed closely by a brightly colored Francesca Vecchio. Ray's youngest sister wore a hot pink North Face ski coat and matching hot pink Doc Martin boots. The rest of her wardrobe was obscured due to the piercingly intense pink coat.
"Hiya, Frase. Sorry I'm late. Frannie insisted on coming with me and then, wasn't ready when it was time to leave." He glared at his sister before he added, "Typical."
"Well… in this kind of cold, I'm not taking a chance on getting stuck on some L for hours on end. Oh, good morning, Benton." Francesca's tone had immediately changed from scathing to sultry when she saw the handsome constable.
Just then, Ray spotted Lt Welsh motioning for him to come to his office.
"I'll be right back," he announced, but was pretty sure no one heard him.
Francesca sauntered up to Fraser as her voice dropped conspiratorially, "My, but you do look fine this frigid morning." She placed her palm flat against his wool covered chest and slowly moved it around in circles. "I just love the feel of … red. Makes me want to crawl up inside it with you."
Fraser nervously backed up a half step until he hit the edge of Ray's desk. He placed his hand over hers in an effort to remove it from his chest, but Francesca managed to twist things around and ended up holding his hand in hers in a surprisingly strong grip. She closed what little distance there was between them and, since he was pinned against the desk, there was no retreat.
Francesca's lips were mere inches from Fraser's as she stood on her tiptoes to bring herself face to face with him.
"You know, Benton, I heard an interesting story of survival recently."
Fraser swallowed slowly as he felt her breath on his face. He tried to speak to tell her to stop, but he couldn't get the words out.
She leaned her lower body into his and wiggled as she whispered slowly and seductively, "It seems there was a man and a woman and they were trapped together in the frigid cold with no way to keep warm. No heat, no blankets…" she leaned over to the shell of his ear and whispered, "... nothing. And do you know how they stayed alive, Benton? Can you guess?"
Fraser's eyes were wide with what looked like fright, but he finally found his voice as he replied weakly, "N-n-no. I have no idea."
She brought her mouth back to his as she finished her tale.
"They made love," she whispered against his lips. "They made love and the heat they produced during their lovemaking kept them alive."
Francesca tried to suck his bottom lip into her mouth, but Fraser, using all of his willpower, gently pushed her away a foot or so.
He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Although that is an interesting story, I'm not sure it would actually be of benefit in a survival situation."
Francesca's glossy lips poked out in a childish pout as she put her hands on her hips, readying herself for battle. However, before she could launch the first salvo, Ray reappeared with Lt Welsh.
"Ah, Miss Vecchio. I believe we have an appointment," announced the lieutenant.
"Lieutenant Welsh!" the flamboyant Italian gushed, "How wonderful to see you again! How's the wife, sir?"
"Well," he started slowly, "since the divorce, she's been doing fine, just fine."
Francesca whipped her head around and glared at Ray. Ray, in his stead, simply shrugged his shoulders and ignored her. He guessed that would be the last time she asked his advice on how to impress the boss.
"So you're here to talk about the civilian aid position…" Welsh said as he escorted Francesca into his office.
"Frase? You ever wonder that maybe there's no God?"
"Why do you ask, Ray?"
"Because if there is a God, Frannie will not get that job."
Turning to Fraser, Vecchio became more serious. "We've got a call down at the Port Authority. Time to suit back up," Ray added as he started pulling on the winter gear he had just taken off.
He stopped short when he saw Fraser's winter hat perched upon the mountie's head. The hat was black wool with brown fur ear and forehead flaps, which were flipped up.
"My God, Benny, what the hell died on top of your head?"
"It's the official cold weather headgear of the RCMP, Ray." Benton grimaced before saying his next sentence, realizing the hazing it would insight from Ray. "It's made of muskrat fur."
"Muskat? That's disgusting. Aren't they like skunks or something?"
"They're actually closer to lemmings."
"But they stink, right? Like skunk."
"I believe they do have a slight musk, hence the name."
Ray leaned slightly toward Fraser before asking, "So, does it smell?" Then he noticed that Fraser's winter parka had a fur-lined hood. He couldn't resist commenting. "The hood's fur too? Holy Toledo, how many muskrats died to keep you warm?"
"This," he fingered the parka's hood, "is made from coyote fur, Ray."
"You Canadians are a brutal people, you know that?"
At the same time Ray placed his own winter hat on his head, a hat colloquially referred to an Elmer Fudd hat, complete with red plaid ear flaps and oversized bill.
Fraser, to his credit, did not reply to Ray's needling.
Instead, he said slowly under his breath, "It's wabbit season, and I'm hunting wabbits."
Ray's eyes narrowed and he asked suspiciously, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, Ray."
"Oh, it's something alright."
"You are mistaken. Shouldn't we be leaving now?"
"Yeah, yeah, you're right, but I'm gonna figure that one out."
As they neared the door, they passed by Huey and Dewey, leaning over a map of Six Flags as they continued their argument about the Polar Vortex.
Dewey looked up when he saw Ray and asked, "Hey, Ray? You even hear of the Polar Vortex?"
"Sure, it's that all-wooden coaster at Cedar Point. I rode it last year with my nephew. Don't ever get on a rollercoaster with a kid who just ate a pound of cotton candy." He said, sagely, "Trust me on this one."
Huey and Dewey looked at each other in surprise and simultaneously exclaimed, "Cedar Point!"
"That's why we couldn't find it. I think I got a map in my filing cabinet," said Dewey as he started searching through his old pre-World War II metal cabinet.
"What was that all about?", Ray asked as they walked out the door and headed for the stairs.
"Well, you see, the polar vortex…"
oOo
As they exited the front door of the precinct, back into the frigid cold, Vecchio summarized the last three minutes of their conversation.
"So it's not a rollercoaster, but we can still blame it on Canada, right?"
Fraser nodded in agreement, "In a manner of speaking, yes."
oOo
After nearly five minutes of listening to Ray first praise and then curse his '71 Buick Riviera, that fine example of classic American automotive supremacy, it finally turned over and the ancient engine started. The blowing snow and buffeting winds made the trip very slow. Thankfully, there weren't many other cars on the street.
As they neared the shore near the Port Authority, they saw a small crowd standing out on the frozen lake. Normally, Lake Michigan would exude an eerie calm on a day this cold. It was surreal - no sound of waves lapping against the barrier, no seagulls loudly searching for their dinner, no shrill steam whistles from a myriad of commercial vessels on the water. In fact, because of the freeze-over, the lake didn't look like a lake at all. It looked like a flat, wintery plain. Today, however, the pair were immediately drawn to the sound of a chainsaw revving in the air.
"This must be the place," commented Ray as he slid the Riv into park, but didn't turn off the ignition. "I'm not taking any chances this time," he said, explaining why he was leaving the car running.
As they approached the crowd, Ray pointed to a man dressed in a heavy parka with a winter cap that looked eerily similar to Fraser's.
"Hey, look, Benny. Maybe your hat and his are related."
"I believe he may be the one who called us."
"Oh, yeah?"
Vecchio took a moment to survey the crowd. There was one man with a chainsaw busily cutting through the ice; there was another man with large ice tongs; there were approximately fifteen people, mostly men shivering in the cold with large towels wrapped around their bodies and bare feet on the frozen lake; there were supporting family members of the shivery people, holding extra blankets and cameras; there was a camera crew from the local ABC affiliate; and finally, there was the man in question. He didn't seem to fit in with the rest of people. And he didn't look at all happy to be there. Even the shivering people seemed excited by the event, whatever it was.
"You might have something there, Benny. Let's go talk to him."
The man with Fraser's hat on his head did not notice the pair approach as he was so completely engrossed in watching the others. The chainsaw wielding man cut loose a section of ice and his assistant quickly plunged the ice tongs into the sides of the large ice block and hauled it out of the water to join three other similar blocks.
"Those people are complete idiots," the man commented to no one in particular.
"I'm with you on that one, buddy," commented Ray.
The man turned in surprise to see Fraser and Vecchio standing next to him.
"Pardon our lack of manners," Fraser said as he brought his hand to the fur brim of his muskrat hat, "I'm Constable Benton Fraser of the RCMP and this is Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chi…"
"You're the police!" the man interrupted excitedly. "What took you so long? They're almost ready to go."
"Go where?" asked Vecchio.
The man pointed frantically at the shivering group of barefooted people huddled together near the rapidly expanding hole.
"Those idiots are members of the Polar Bear Club and they're about to take a Polar Plunge."
"But isn't that what they do? Plunge into cold water, I mean."
"Yes, yes, of course. But this year because of the polar vortex, we've canceled the plunge. They are doing this completely on their own," the man seemed to become more and more agitated as he spoke.
"Excuse me, Mr. …?" Ray prompted the man for his name.
"I'm sorry. My name is Thomas Rainer and I'm the Lakeview Polar Bear Club's attorney."
"Polar bears need attorneys?"
"Of course, no member is allowed to participate in any club activities without signing a legal waiver. The consequences would be disastrous."
"And I assume that these people have not signed the waiver?" Frasier asked as he glanced at the group of people. They were starting to cheer-on the chainsaw operators. The sounds of "Go! Go! Go!" reverberated across the lake.
"That's right. They must sign the waiver and release before each and every plunge and since this year's plunge was canceled, they weren't allowed to sign the waiver. Therefore, they shouldn't be plunging."
"Okay, so what do you expect us to do?" Ray asked in frustration. He just wanted to speed this thing along and get back to the station was getting cold.
"Stop them! March out there and send them on their way." Mr. Rainer punctuated his remark by jabbing a mitten covered hand in the direction of the crowd.
Ray shook his head from side to side in resignation. For a native-born Chicagoan, he hated the cold and really wished this dispute could be settled inside a warm coffee shop.
"Look, Mr. Rainer, you're right that those people are idiots." Vecchio paused for dramatic effect as he reached into the inner linings of his coat and produced a piece of paper. "However, these particular idiots have a permit issued by the City of Chicago, so we can't stop them."
The irate lawyer stamped his foot on the ice in frustration. However, before he could continue with his tirade, screams erupted from the makeshift swimming hole. The two policemen reacted immediately and ran toward the hole, only to realize that these were screams of … freezing your gonads off and needing to scream about it, not screams of a police nature.
The unauthorized Polar Bears splashed around in the water for approximately ten seconds before the most weak-hearted among them began to get out and head immediately towards their warm vehicles. Fraser and Vecchio stood with the distressed lawyer and watched the spectacle. Mr. Rainer, realizing that he couldn't do anything else, decided to enjoy the event by joining the policemen in making fun of the swimmers. Cold water did humorous things to the male body, especially when that body was clad in only a Speedo. Of course, cold water also did wonderful things to the female body as all three men could agree.
There were only about three people left in the water went a scream with a decidedly different pitch pierced the air. The two policemen, working under the assumption of 'fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me', did not react as quickly as before.
However, Vecchio quickly realized that something serious was happening, based on the number of gasps and murmurs and the crowd which now completely surrounded the hole. With his badge held up in front of him like a lantern on a dark night, the detective pushed his way through the throng of onlookers until he and Fraser could clearly see the water.
There, in the frigidly cold waters of the makeshift swimming hole, floated the blue and bloated body of a completely naked woman. She was floating face-down in the water with tendrils of long blonde hair billowing out around her head.
Ray called back to the lawyer, "Wow, that'll keep'em outta the water. Right, Rainer?"
He turned to look for the distraught lawyer, only to see him lying flat on his back on the snow covered lake. He had fainted.
Fraser drew Vecchio's attention back to the matter at hand when he leaned toward his friend and whispered, "Look at her ankle, Ray."
"I never pictured you as a leg man, Frase."
"The rope, Ray. The body was held under the water," Fraser explained as he pointed to the bright yellow nylon rope tied around the woman's ankle.
"Until that rope was cut, right? You mean somebody anchored that body down under the water, which was also under eighteen inches of ice, by the way, directly under where these idiots decide to cut a hole in the lake and go for a dip? Isn't that sort of far fetched, even for one of our cases?"
"Perhaps, but that's not all, Ray," Fraser continued, "I think we need to inform Inspector Thatcher of this death."
"Why's that?"
"She may very well have been a Canadian citizen," Fraser commented as he stood staring at the body floating gently in the icy water. Her long blonde hair already starting to form ice crystals.
Ray looked down at the dead woman and added his speculation.
"Or… she might just be a really big hockey fan."
The two men looked at each other and then simultaneously turned back to the body. The sound of police cars could be heard in the distance. One of the witnesses must have called the police. However, the detective and the mountie didn't acknowledge them as they continued to stare down at the woman's lower back. She had a large tramp stamp of a Canadian maple leaf.
* TBC *
Author's Notes
This is my first Due South story and it's not finished yet, but I wanted to get it up before the spring thaw. I'm a big fan of Fraser/Thatcher and she'll be showing up in chapter 2.
Oh, RCMP does use a lot of animal fur in their uniforms. All that muskat and coyote stuff is absolutely true. I did a bit of research.
Hope the few Due South fans out there enjoy this. If you did, please take the time to let me know.
11/11