This story is set during Season 4 of due South. I hope you enjoy it. All feedback is appreciated.

CHAPTER 1.

"No, Fraser, it is not a good morning!" Ray Kowalski sat at his desk staring at the open file on front of him. The nameplate bearing his undercover name – Detective Ray Vecchio – was half buried under paperwork and the early morning sun was glaring off his computer screen, causing him to squint as he looked up at his best friend, Constable Benton Fraser.

Diefenbaker, Fraser's half-wolf, put his front paws on Ray's desk looking for doughnuts, but he was left disappointed.

Fraser had walked into the squad room at the station and greeted everyone with his usual, cheerful greeting. Ray was rarely cheerful at this hour of the day, but it seemed that something had put him in a particularly bad mood this morning.

"Is something wrong?" asked Fraser with concern.

Ray sighed. "Sorry, buddy," he replied, blowing across the top of his steaming mug of extra strong, extra sweet coffee. "I tried to call ya at the Consulate, but you'd already left. I had a weird chat with Turnbull instead about, er, actually I have no idea what he was talkin' about."

"Ah," said Fraser. He knew Ray often found Constable Turnbull quite irritating and understandably so. The young Mountie frequently stretched Fraser's own patience to the limit. "You know, Ray, perhaps if you spent more time with him you two may learn to get along?" he suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," agreed Ray, much to Fraser's surprise. "Ask him if he wants hang out at my apartment on Saturday night and, er, watch the ball game with us," he continued, the sarcasm more evident in his voice now.

"Really?" Fraser wasn't convinced.

"Fraser, I was kidding," explained Ray, dryly.

"Ah."

"Anyway, I wanted to catch ya before ya left this mornin' to tell ya not to bother coming all the way over here," Ray explained. "I've gotta take a raincheck on our visit to David Treebeck. Something's come up."

"Oh dear," replied Fraser. "Well, the Austin case is all but closed. Treebeck's statement can wait. Is there something else I can help you with today?"

Ray shook his head. "Nope, I've gotta do this on my own. Welsh's orders," he explained. "I'm babysitting."

"Babysitting?" queried Fraser.

"Yeah," confirmed Ray. "All week." He handed a puzzled Fraser the file he'd been looking at. "Her name's Frankie Mallion," explained Ray. "She's a rookie, straight outta the Academy."

Fraser scanned down the file and was impressed with what he saw. "She has some glowing reports here from the tutors," he noted. "All of this suggests she will make a fine addition to the Chicago Police Department."

Ray nodded. "Yeah, a real shining star," he agreed. "Unlike me, I barely scraped through."

Fraser frowned. He'd read Ray's personnel file and he knew that wasn't true. Ray may not have been top of his class, but he had graduated from the Academy with some good grades and very positive comments from some of the tutors. Fraser wished his friend wouldn't be so dismissive of his own abilities.

"Andy Dearman was gonna be her TO, but he's outta action for at least a month since he smashed his leg up," explained Ray.

"Of course," acknowledged Fraser. "He was lucky to survive that incident with the ice cream truck." Everyone at the Two Seven had heard about Officer Dearman's accident. "So you've been assigned as Officer Mallion's temporary Training Officer I take it."

"Yep," nodded Ray. "Lucky her, huh. I mean, what can I teach a rookie? She's gotta learn how to do things by the book, right? I can't even remember what it says in the book!"

"Ray, you're an excellent police officer," began Fraser, reassuringly. "Officer Mallion will gain valuable experience from riding with you for a week."

"That's bull, Fraser," retorted Ray. "This is the dumbest idea Welsh has ever had. Someone else should do this. I'm not a teacher."

Before Fraser had a chance to berate his friend for putting himself down again, the door to Lieutenant Welsh's office opened and Welsh stepped out with a young woman at his side. She was dressed in her brand new uniform with shiny brass buttons and even shinier black shoes. Her shoulder length brown hair was scraped back off her face with a clip and her green eyes shone with enthusiasm.

"She's all yours, Vecchio," said Welsh and went back into his office.

"Greatness," said Ray, forcing a smile onto his face. "Oh, er, Frankie Mallion, this is Fraser." Ray nodded in the direction of his friend.

Frankie drew a sharp breath when she saw Fraser standing in front of her in his red serge, his hat tucked under his arm. "You're the Mountie," she said, immediately kicking herself for stating the obvious. She'd heard so much about him at the Academy, but nothing she'd heard had prepared her for seeing him in the flesh. She stared hard at him, taking in every inch of his magnificence.

"Very pleased to meet you," smiled Fraser.

"Oh, er, er…" Frankie stammered. This wasn't like her at all; she couldn't understand what had just happened. She gave her head a tiny shake, hoping she would come to her senses and it seemed to do the trick. "Hi," she said, eventually, her voice sounding less high pitched now, much to her relief. "I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous today."

"It's quite understandable," replied Fraser, the warmth in his voice putting Frankie even more at ease now. "I remember my first day on the job," continued Fraser. "We'd had a report of…"

"OK, let's go," Ray interrupted his friend before this turned into a long and boring story involving snowmobiles, polar bears, or Fraser dangling over a cliff.

"Of course, my apologies," acknowledged Fraser. "Please don't let me delay you."

"I'm sorry I'm stealing your partner this week," said Frankie, sheepishly.

"It's alright," Fraser reassured her. "I have plenty of Consular work to keep me busy.

Frankie hesitated as she watched Ray walking towards the door, throwing his gun holster around his shoulders as he walked. She checked her own weapon was still strapped to her side, glanced at the badge she proudly wore on her chest and started to follow him.

"See ya later, buddy," Ray called out as he left the squad room waving a hand in the air and Fraser waved back.

Frankie stopped and turned back to Fraser. She hadn't expected to feel this scared. This was all she'd ever wanted and now the time was finally here she was terrified. Her mind went blank; for a moment she couldn't remember anything she'd learnt at the Academy at all. Part of her wanted to run and hide, but as the adrenaline started to pump around her body, everything came flooding back and she realised this was the proudest moment of her life. "I guess this is it," she said, grinning at Fraser with anticipation. "Day one."

Fraser nodded. "Good luck," he said and she ran out of the door after Ray.

XxXxXx

Fraser spent an hour at the station tidying Ray's desk. He only found one piece of important uncatalogued evidence hidden under a pile of pizza menus this time which was an improvement on the last time he'd done this task, so he headed back to the Consulate with a feeling of satisfaction at a job well done.

Turnbull opened the heavy wooden door of the Canadian Consulate building just as Fraser and Dief were walking up the path. "Did you speak with Detective Vecchio?" asked Turnbull, anxiously. "He telephoned here soon after you'd left. To be honest with you, Sir, I'm not sure what he wanted."

Fraser rolled his eyes. Why Ray and Turnbull had so much trouble communicating with each other he would never know.

"It's alright, Constable," Fraser reassured him. "I spoke with him at the station."

Turnbull was relieved. "If it's alright with you, Sir, I'll head over to the Italian Consulate now. As you are aware, Inspector Thatcher has requested that I liaise with the Italian Ambassador regarding the trade exchange." Turnbull stood tall and proud as he spoke; it was rare for the Inspector to trust him with such important matters. "I'll be taking the car," he added.

Fraser had been pleased to hear that Turnbull had been given this responsibility. He was fully aware that Inspector Thatcher had a rather delicate personal history with the Ambassador and therefore wanted to avoid him at all costs, otherwise she would probably have dealt with the trade negotiations herself, but the young Mountie didn't need to know that. Consequently, the Inspector had got herself onto an international committee discussing the streamlining of visa processing which was taking up a lot of her time at the moment.

"And how is your Italian coming along?" asked Fraser. Turnbull had been trying to learn the language with varying degrees of success.

"Not as well as I'd hoped," admitted Turnbull, looking at the floor with embarrassment. He usually had a flair for languages, but this one was proving a problem. "But I'll persevere."

Fraser nodded. "Arrivederci, Constable," he said.

"Arrivederci," replied Turnbull and he left.

Fraser looked at Dief. "Oh well," he said. "I hope you have enough to keep you occupied today, I have things that need my attention."

Dief growled.

"I wouldn't exactly use the word boring," Fraser scolded him. "The work we do here at the Canadian Consulate, while maybe not as exciting as liaising with the Chicago PD, is nonetheless just as important."

Dief barked.

"Alright, alright…mundane, perhaps," conceded Fraser and walked into his office.

A couple of hours and several hundred signed forms later, Fraser was about to find Diefenbaker some lunch, when he heard the front door crash open.

"Fraser! Fraser!"

It was Ray's voice.

Fraser leapt to his feet and ran out into the hallway with Dief at his heels. He was shocked when he saw Ray and Frankie standing there. Frankie had one arm draped around Ray's shoulder and blood was running down the side of her face from a nasty gash on her temple.

She was having trouble supporting her own weight and Fraser raced forward to assist. "Help me lay her on the couch," he instructed as they walked into the reception room and Ray swung her legs around as Fraser propped her head up with a cushion. "What happened?" he asked urgently.

"Don't ask," spat Ray, angrily. "We were two blocks away; I thought I'd bring her straight here."

Fraser was shocked by the animosity in Ray's voice, but for now his priority was Frankie. "Frankie, can you hear me?" he asked, anxiously checking her for signs of concussion. Fortunately he found nothing to be concerned about.

"I'm fine," replied Frankie, although she sounded anything but fine.

Ray grabbed the first aid kit from the shelf and handed it to Fraser who quickly unpacked some cotton and gauze and starting cleaning the blood from her head wound.

"Looks like you had a run in with a wall," stated Fraser as he examined the injury. "Standard Class A engineering bricks, unless I'm very much mistaken."

"What the hell were you thinking?" yelled Ray, suddenly.

"Ray!" Fraser scolded. Frankie was badly hurt; surely this could wait?

Ray let out a growl of frustration and turned away, running his fingers roughly through his spiky hair. "OK," he said, his voice a little calmer now. "I'm gonna wait in your office, Fraser. Just, er, just fix her up," and he stormed out of the room.

Fraser turned back to Frankie whose bottom lip was quivering as she tried not to break down. She seemed like a different person to the enthusiastic, confident young rookie he'd met just a few hours earlier.

"It's alright," he said gently. "Ray will calm down. We'll talk about whatever happened later."

"Detective Vecchio has every right to be mad at me," replied Frankie. "I screwed up. Big time." She couldn't hold back her tears any longer.

"Here," said Fraser, handing her a handkerchief so that she could dry her eyes. He couldn't imagine what Frankie could possibly have done to make Ray so angry with her. He continued cleaning and bandaging her head. It was a nasty cut, but not one that warranted stitches, fortunately.

Frankie lay still and let Fraser tend to her. She didn't even flinch when he washed out the wound with antiseptic. He warned her that it might sting and he was right, but she felt she deserved the pain. She'd let herself down, she'd let her parents down, her new TO and every one of her tutors at the Academy too, all within her first few hours as a police officer. That's how she felt, anyway.

"There, all done," said Fraser, finally. "How do you feel?"

Frankie shrugged.

"Physically," Fraser clarified.

"Headache," she replied.

That was hardly surprising, thought Fraser. "If it gets worse, let me know," he said and she nodded.

Fraser took a deep breath and glanced towards the door. He wanted to find out what had happened, but considering the mood Ray was in he wanted Frankie's side of the story first.

Fortunately it seemed she could read his face; not everyone could do that. "I saw…" she began, "at least, I thought I saw someone. Detective Vecchio was getting coffee; I didn't think I had time to wait so I went in on my own."

"Who did you see?" asked Fraser.

"John Harrison Merrick," replied Frankie. "He's on the FBI Most Wanted list."

Fraser nodded. "Indeed he is," he agreed. "He's wanted for a string of violent murders across twenty three states."

"It wasn't him," stated Frankie. "At least, I'm pretty sure now that it wasn't him. I studied the list; I figured it was important that I was familiar with it. I guess the names and faces got stuck in my head."

"That's very conscientious," noted Fraser. "Are you sure it wasn't him?"

Frankie shrugged. "I was waiting in the car," she explained, "and I saw this guy. He was acting suspiciously so I observed him for a few minutes. I thought he was going to steal a purse; he was hanging around outside a street café."

Fraser smiled. Not many rookies would have been so observant. "What did you do?" he prompted.

"I got out of the car," she continued. "I looked around, but I couldn't see Detective Vecchio. I thought if I waited too long it would be too late so I crossed the street. I figured that if the guy saw a cop he'd change his mind about stealing the purse. Most purse snatchers are opportunist criminals."

"That's true," agreed Fraser, admiring her knowledge.

"I called out to him and he turned around and that's when I saw his face," explained Frankie. "He looked directly at me and I recognised him instantly. I mean, he has like a goatee now, but I was sure it was him. I think he knew I'd made him and he ran, so I ran after him."

Fraser nodded slowly. He could see why Ray was so displeased. Frankie was a rookie cop on her first day, but she'd gone after a man who she believed was a highly dangerous criminal on her own without backup. Her instincts were second to none, but they had overtaken all of her training.

"I assume you caught up with him," asked Fraser.

Frankie nodded. "He stumbled over some trash and the next thing I knew I was standing over him with my gun in my hand," she said. "I don't really remember anything else. It's a bit of a blur. I just remember being slumped against the wall and Detective Vecchio's voice calling my name."

"You know you should have alerted Detective Vecchio before pursuing the man," Fraser pointed out.

"I know," replied Frankie with a sigh, "but it all happened so quickly. I made a stupid, rookie mistake." She hung her head and sniffed.

"Well, you are a rookie," Fraser pointed out with half a smile. "The important thing is that you know what you did wrong. Stay here and rest; I'll go and speak to Ray."

"He's not going to want to work with me anymore is he," sighed Frankie. "He's going to report me to Lieutenant Welsh and then I'll probably lose my badge," she added. "It's what I deserve."

Fraser shook his head. "Ray's bark is far worse than his bite, you know," he said. "Just give me a little while."

Frankie lay on the couch trying to ignore the pounding in her head. She and Ray had been getting on quite well for most of the morning. She admired his honesty; it was refreshing after some of the sanctimonious types she'd encountered at the Academy. Now she'd screwed everything up, he was never going to respect her and why should he? She began to wonder why she'd ever thought she could be a cop in the first place.

Fraser found Ray in his office, lying on the camp bed the Mountie slept on while he was living there.

"Is she OK?" asked Ray.

"Yes," replied Fraser. "What about you?" he added, gingerly.

Ray sighed deeply. "I'm sorry I yelled at her," he said. "But she scared the hell outta me."

Fraser nodded. "She told me what happened."

Ray swung his legs over the side and sat up. "Maybe you could fill me in?" he asked. "All I know is, er, is I went to use the can in the coffee house and when I came out there was all this screamin' and shouting outside. Some lady said a cop had gone chasing after some guy with a gun."

"She initially thought the man in question was a potential purse snatcher, although she now believes he may have been John Harrison Merrick," explained Fraser. "He's on the FBI Most Wanted list," he added when he was met with a blank look from Ray.

"Oh," said Ray, desperately trying to recall the name. "Well I don't care if she thought he was Elvis, she could have gotten herself killed, Fraser. On her first day. That would just be greatness, wouldn't it? I'm responsible for a rookie for one morning and I get her killed."

Fraser suddenly realised exactly what had got Ray so worked up. He was blaming himself for what had happened. Fraser perched on the edge of his desk. "You know, Ray, Frankie is taking full responsibility for her actions," he said.

"Is that what I would have said to her folks?" asked Ray, sarcastically. "Y'know, when I went knocking on their door to tell 'em their daughter was dead," he continued, spreading his hands out in front of him - palms upwards - for emphasis. "Sorry for your loss, Mr and Mrs Mallion, but it was her own stupid fault. D'ya think that would have been OK, Fraser?"

Fraser paused. "Ray, she knows what she did was wrong," he said. "But she had her reasons and they were good reasons. Her instincts are impeccable. I would have thought you of all people could acknowledge that."

"It's her first day," repeated Ray, slowly, as if Fraser hadn't fully understood. He closed his eyes. "OK, I'd better go talk to her," he said and stood up slowly; it felt as though every bone in his body ached.

"I'll make some tea," said Fraser. "Ray," he added, "this wasn't your fault."

Fraser walked back along the hall a few minutes later carrying three mugs of tea. As he approached the reception room he was relieved to hear the sound of laughter. He paused outside the door and listened.

"OK, so next time ya wanna play Robocop, what are ya gonna do?" asked Ray.

"Come and find you first," replied Frankie.

"Right," said Ray, with a smile. "For this week and this week only, you have me as a partner and that means I'm not gonna let you outta my sight. Got it?"

"Got it," agreed Frankie.

"I'm responsible for you out there," continued Ray. "If anything had happened to you while you were on my watch…" he trailed off. He knew Frankie understood.

"I'm sorry I put you in that position, Sir," she replied, hanging her head. Then she looked up at him and a tiny smirk danced at her lips. "But I'm not coming with you to the bathroom," she added.

"Deal," agreed Ray with a grin. "And quit calling me 'Sir', OK? I go by Ray."

Frankie nodded and smiled.

Then Ray became serious again. "Look, ya never know what you're walking into. You've gotta trust your partner; your partner has your back and you have his, all the time. That's how it works; like me and Fraser. Even if that guy was just a, er, a purse snatcher he could have had a gun. Cop Rule 101 – never go it alone."

"I'm know, I know," said Frankie, still angry at herself. "I just didn't want him to get away."

"Sometimes they get away," replied Ray, solemnly. "Cop Rule 102 – you can't stop all the bad guys all the time. It sucks, but that's how it is. Best you can do is to try to get through the day alive."