Discovered
Ray ran toward the fallen figure, "Frasier?"
He knelt down to verify that it was indeed his partner lying in the dirty alleyway. The man he frightened off must have been trying to find something worth stealing from the unconscious Mountie because his Sam Browne was unfastened and some of his jacket buttons were undone. Ray reached out a hand and flexed his fingers before placing them on the Mountie's throat. He sighed in relief when he felt the steady pulse of Fraser's blood. He saw then that Fraser was breathing regularly too. Ray checked for visible injuries and found none but his friend's forehead was hot as if fevered. Ray was puzzled, to his knowledge the Mountie had never fainted before.
"Hey, Frasier, wake up."
He shook him gently and Fraser moaned in response. Then he opened his eyes and met Ray's concerned gaze.
"It's okay, buddy, lie still. What happened to you?"
Fraser squeezed his eyes shut as his face contorted in pain, unable to reply he gasped pitifully. Tears rolled from beneath his eyelids. "I'm here, Benny. Everything is gonna be OK. If you can't get up I'll call an ambulance. You'll be OK."
There was no response; Fraser lay still again his whole body radiating heat. Ray scowled; perhaps he had flu. But if Ray couldn't get him off the sidewalk the paramedics would have to.
Ray called for the emergency services and waited feeling helpless. His detective skills were useless in instances like this as there were no clues. No sign of injury, no sign of a crime. Just his best friend lying there making him feel helpless. How long had he been unconscious like this? That morning Fraser had told Ray that he believed everyone was a Saint. Well not one of the saints who had passed him by that evening had bothered to assist him, had they? Why did Benny insist on seeing the good in everyone? There were too many people who were downright self centered and uncaring and that was the most important lesson life taught you. In this city anyway.
Maybe he should try to wake the Mountie again? He took off his coat and made a pillow of it, which he gently pushed beneath his partner's clammy head. His hair was sticky with sweat and he did not respond when Ray called his name again. When you have flu you wake when someone calls your name, don't you? You don't just lie there pale and still. Fraser coughed and Ray was at his side in an instant, he took a hand in both of his trying to pass on some strength. It was all he could think of to do.
Then he heard the siren and the footfalls of the approaching medics as they took over and did their job. He stood back as they attended his friend and answered their questions as best he could.
"Any recent head injuries ?"
"Well yesterday he was knocked out and he fell down an elevator shaft earlier today." That really sounded ludicrous to Ray's ears and he shook his head. The situations Benny got him into! He responded to the paramedic's incredulous expression with, "Well he is a Mountie. "
Was that it? Maybe the blow to his head from Bolt had given him delayed concussion. Was there such a thing? It certainly sounded plausible to Ray. The medics finished measuring Benton's vital signs, set up an IV line and loaded him into a waiting ambulance allowing a grateful Ray to ride with them to the hospital.
Ray stood up expectantly as the doctor from ER approached and shook his hand. "Doctor Clarkson. I believe you came in with the Mountie, Constable Fraser?"
"Yes, I'm detective Vecchio." Ray replied. "How is he?"
The doctor explained that Fraser had elevated vital signs indicating a systemic infection. As yet, they were unable to determine the cause as there were no visible signs of injury. He wondered if Ray knew of any serious injuries Fraser had incurred in the past.
Ray's heart skipped a beat, a look of shame crossed his face and he tried to hide it. He thrust his hands in his pockets and scrutinised the floor tiles.
"Several months ago he spent a few weeks in here after a gunshot wound in his back. The bullet was never removed. T8 vertebrae," This last was barely a whisper but the doctor heard it.
"Ah, I see. Then I shall look for his records. If you wish to see your friend wait until a nurse comes for you."
Ray nodded an automatic response. His mind was whirling with desperate thoughts. Was that it ? He knew his bullet was still in Benny's back. It was a wonder he had been allowed to carry on working. Most American policemen would have been invalided out for that.
Automatically, he followed a nurse to the ward and hesitated before entering the room. He was reluctant to face his friend, was this really his fault? After all this time?
Fraser lay motionless on the bed. Ray's haunted eyes took in the IV drip, the monitor and recalled another time. Apart from an unnatural pallor, the Mountie appeared to be sleeping. Ray stood at the foot of the bed not daring to go any nearer. He was stunned.
Surely, not his bullet, not after all this time. A bullet fired in haste, a bullet fired by mistake, stopped Benton deserting him but took eighteen months to complete its journey.
The doctor entered with a paper bundle. He put them down after a brief consultation then began to examine the scar between the Mountie's shoulders. Ray had not seen it before and was curious, craning his neck to get a better look. It looked sore, and large too. Deforming the perfection of Fraser's otherwise flawless back.
Unbidden, unwelcome memories assaulted him. Another night, a cool night, a station platform and a realisation. He was crouched by a body, his hand resting on leather jacketed chest covering a heart that was gradually pulsing less vibrantly. Feeling the heat seep out by degrees. Fighting tears, meeting unfocussed blue eyes and hearing whispered words, understanding few of them.
Benny- what have I done? Benny, don't die, don't let me kill you. Hold on, for God's sake. He'd lowered his gun, the instrument of his guilt. He had pointed that gun at Victoria, he had released the safety, aimed, squeezed the trigger. He'd missed her; the bullet had rushed uncaring across the platform and embedded itself into his partner's back. It had pulled him from the train and out of his lover's arms. Blood in increasing circles on the concrete. Benny's blood.
He shook his head, no. Welsh, Huey, Louis, stunned, speechless, stopped in their tracks. They'd looked at him, accusation in their stares. Horrified.
Surely, the Mountie was indestructible. Surely the Mountie was incorruptible?
Their faith shattered, they 'd stared in silence, the death of hope.
Louis had the presence of mind of all of them to call for an ambulance.
"Officer down!"
After all that had happened, he was still one of them, a cop.
He'd felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, imparting moral support. Unspoken words from Welsh: You were doing your duty.
Duty is a poor excuse for shooting your friend. Naive, innocent, vulnerable Fraser; he needed protecting, not shooting. The ambulance had taken too long that time.
Time had stretched out like it was elastic. Time in which to watch Benny's vitality ooze out of Ray's bullet hole. Ray had gently covered his friend with his coat when he realised he was shaking with tremors. But never did he falter in his recitation of that poem, "Windhover."
Ray had found it much later; powerful words. Words that can keep a man this side of death stop a man crossing over the line of life. He couldn't make sense of its beauty but it had obviously meant a lot to Frasier. Hell, it had saved his life.
He had stayed there, frozen, feeling the snow fall around them both, his hand on his friend's heart willing it to beat. His eyes locked with watery blue ones that contained no accusation, until the paramedics pulled him away.
At the hospital that time he did not know if Benny would pull through. He'd lived through uncertainty. He'd gone through raging powerful emotions; remorse, regret, sorrow, guilt. What would life be like without Benny? How would he ever recover from causing the death of his best friend?
And now, here they were again, those emotions that wrung him out and froze his heart in his chest. That tight feeling across his collar bone, the gnawing in his stomach. Sure, since Benny had entered the 27th stationhouse looking for Detective Armani, those feelings had become familiar to him. It was all part and parcel of "bonding" with the Mountie. He was drawn to danger. A babe magnet and a danger magnet. Ray smiled at the whimsical thought. But he had survived after scaring Ray many times. He would survive now. He had to. He realised he had been angry with him recently, but that did not mean he'd welcome his death.
Memories again of the ICU and sleeping on hard hospital chairs because he did not want Fraser to die alone. Not that the Mountie would ever have known, he was hardly ever awake for the first week after the accident. Huh, accident. Nice word, Ray. He'd never known that Ray was there, or what Ray was going through. His face had looked so relaxed and peaceful then before consciousness had brought back the memories. It had taken weeks to recuperate, to put the memories of Victoria to the back of his mind, to heal the scars both physical and mental.
Time was a funny thing.
Turn the clock back, why couldn't he? Go back to the station, not pull the trigger. But then Benny would have been gone, gone away with her.
Another scenario. Get to the station before Frasier and shoot Victoria. Yes, in a perfect world; that would have worked. Poor Benny, a round peg in a square hole. Trusting people so much that even when faced with all that evidence he did not stop loving her. But he had given so much to Ray, shown him a better way, given him optimism. Turned some of his cynicism into faith; faith in human nature. All Benny ever wanted was to make the world a better place. There weren't enough Benny's. I need him here where he can work his magic, make us all better people.
Ray gripped the metal end of the bed, looked up from his feet to the body on the bed, registered the faint regular breathing of the friend he had shot and waited for the memories to stop.
Ray ran toward the fallen figure, "Frasier?"
He knelt down to verify that it was indeed his partner lying in the dirty alleyway. The man he frightened off must have been trying to find something worth stealing from the unconscious Mountie because his Sam Browne was unfastened and some of his jacket buttons were undone. Ray reached out a hand and flexed his fingers before placing them on the Mountie's throat. He sighed in relief when he felt the steady pulse of Fraser's blood. He saw then that Fraser was breathing regularly too. Ray checked for visible injuries and found none but his friend's forehead was hot as if fevered. Ray was puzzled, to his knowledge the Mountie had never fainted before.
"Hey, Frasier, wake up."
He shook him gently and Fraser moaned in response. Then he opened his eyes and met Ray's concerned gaze.
"It's okay, buddy, lie still. What happened to you?"
Fraser squeezed his eyes shut as his face contorted in pain, unable to reply he gasped pitifully. Tears rolled from beneath his eyelids. "I'm here, Benny. Everything is gonna be OK. If you can't get up I'll call an ambulance. You'll be OK."
There was no response; Fraser lay still again his whole body radiating heat. Ray scowled; perhaps he had flu. But if Ray couldn't get him off the sidewalk the paramedics would have to.
Ray called for the emergency services and waited feeling helpless. His detective skills were useless in instances like this as there were no clues. No sign of injury, no sign of a crime. Just his best friend lying there making him feel helpless. How long had he been unconscious like this? That morning Fraser had told Ray that he believed everyone was a Saint. Well not one of the saints who had passed him by that evening had bothered to assist him, had they? Why did Benny insist on seeing the good in everyone? There were too many people who were downright self centered and uncaring and that was the most important lesson life taught you. In this city anyway.
Maybe he should try to wake the Mountie again? He took off his coat and made a pillow of it, which he gently pushed beneath his partner's clammy head. His hair was sticky with sweat and he did not respond when Ray called his name again. When you have flu you wake when someone calls your name, don't you? You don't just lie there pale and still. Fraser coughed and Ray was at his side in an instant, he took a hand in both of his trying to pass on some strength. It was all he could think of to do.
Then he heard the siren and the footfalls of the approaching medics as they took over and did their job. He stood back as they attended his friend and answered their questions as best he could.
"Any recent head injuries ?"
"Well yesterday he was knocked out and he fell down an elevator shaft earlier today." That really sounded ludicrous to Ray's ears and he shook his head. The situations Benny got him into! He responded to the paramedic's incredulous expression with, "Well he is a Mountie. "
Was that it? Maybe the blow to his head from Bolt had given him delayed concussion. Was there such a thing? It certainly sounded plausible to Ray. The medics finished measuring Benton's vital signs, set up an IV line and loaded him into a waiting ambulance allowing a grateful Ray to ride with them to the hospital.
Ray stood up expectantly as the doctor from ER approached and shook his hand. "Doctor Clarkson. I believe you came in with the Mountie, Constable Fraser?"
"Yes, I'm detective Vecchio." Ray replied. "How is he?"
The doctor explained that Fraser had elevated vital signs indicating a systemic infection. As yet, they were unable to determine the cause as there were no visible signs of injury. He wondered if Ray knew of any serious injuries Fraser had incurred in the past.
Ray's heart skipped a beat, a look of shame crossed his face and he tried to hide it. He thrust his hands in his pockets and scrutinised the floor tiles.
"Several months ago he spent a few weeks in here after a gunshot wound in his back. The bullet was never removed. T8 vertebrae," This last was barely a whisper but the doctor heard it.
"Ah, I see. Then I shall look for his records. If you wish to see your friend wait until a nurse comes for you."
Ray nodded an automatic response. His mind was whirling with desperate thoughts. Was that it ? He knew his bullet was still in Benny's back. It was a wonder he had been allowed to carry on working. Most American policemen would have been invalided out for that.
Automatically, he followed a nurse to the ward and hesitated before entering the room. He was reluctant to face his friend, was this really his fault? After all this time?
Fraser lay motionless on the bed. Ray's haunted eyes took in the IV drip, the monitor and recalled another time. Apart from an unnatural pallor, the Mountie appeared to be sleeping. Ray stood at the foot of the bed not daring to go any nearer. He was stunned.
Surely, not his bullet, not after all this time. A bullet fired in haste, a bullet fired by mistake, stopped Benton deserting him but took eighteen months to complete its journey.
The doctor entered with a paper bundle. He put them down after a brief consultation then began to examine the scar between the Mountie's shoulders. Ray had not seen it before and was curious, craning his neck to get a better look. It looked sore, and large too. Deforming the perfection of Fraser's otherwise flawless back.
Unbidden, unwelcome memories assaulted him. Another night, a cool night, a station platform and a realisation. He was crouched by a body, his hand resting on leather jacketed chest covering a heart that was gradually pulsing less vibrantly. Feeling the heat seep out by degrees. Fighting tears, meeting unfocussed blue eyes and hearing whispered words, understanding few of them.
Benny- what have I done? Benny, don't die, don't let me kill you. Hold on, for God's sake. He'd lowered his gun, the instrument of his guilt. He had pointed that gun at Victoria, he had released the safety, aimed, squeezed the trigger. He'd missed her; the bullet had rushed uncaring across the platform and embedded itself into his partner's back. It had pulled him from the train and out of his lover's arms. Blood in increasing circles on the concrete. Benny's blood.
He shook his head, no. Welsh, Huey, Louis, stunned, speechless, stopped in their tracks. They'd looked at him, accusation in their stares. Horrified.
Surely, the Mountie was indestructible. Surely the Mountie was incorruptible?
Their faith shattered, they 'd stared in silence, the death of hope.
Louis had the presence of mind of all of them to call for an ambulance.
"Officer down!"
After all that had happened, he was still one of them, a cop.
He'd felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, imparting moral support. Unspoken words from Welsh: You were doing your duty.
Duty is a poor excuse for shooting your friend. Naive, innocent, vulnerable Fraser; he needed protecting, not shooting. The ambulance had taken too long that time.
Time had stretched out like it was elastic. Time in which to watch Benny's vitality ooze out of Ray's bullet hole. Ray had gently covered his friend with his coat when he realised he was shaking with tremors. But never did he falter in his recitation of that poem, "Windhover."
Ray had found it much later; powerful words. Words that can keep a man this side of death stop a man crossing over the line of life. He couldn't make sense of its beauty but it had obviously meant a lot to Frasier. Hell, it had saved his life.
He had stayed there, frozen, feeling the snow fall around them both, his hand on his friend's heart willing it to beat. His eyes locked with watery blue ones that contained no accusation, until the paramedics pulled him away.
At the hospital that time he did not know if Benny would pull through. He'd lived through uncertainty. He'd gone through raging powerful emotions; remorse, regret, sorrow, guilt. What would life be like without Benny? How would he ever recover from causing the death of his best friend?
And now, here they were again, those emotions that wrung him out and froze his heart in his chest. That tight feeling across his collar bone, the gnawing in his stomach. Sure, since Benny had entered the 27th stationhouse looking for Detective Armani, those feelings had become familiar to him. It was all part and parcel of "bonding" with the Mountie. He was drawn to danger. A babe magnet and a danger magnet. Ray smiled at the whimsical thought. But he had survived after scaring Ray many times. He would survive now. He had to. He realised he had been angry with him recently, but that did not mean he'd welcome his death.
Memories again of the ICU and sleeping on hard hospital chairs because he did not want Fraser to die alone. Not that the Mountie would ever have known, he was hardly ever awake for the first week after the accident. Huh, accident. Nice word, Ray. He'd never known that Ray was there, or what Ray was going through. His face had looked so relaxed and peaceful then before consciousness had brought back the memories. It had taken weeks to recuperate, to put the memories of Victoria to the back of his mind, to heal the scars both physical and mental.
Time was a funny thing.
Turn the clock back, why couldn't he? Go back to the station, not pull the trigger. But then Benny would have been gone, gone away with her.
Another scenario. Get to the station before Frasier and shoot Victoria. Yes, in a perfect world; that would have worked. Poor Benny, a round peg in a square hole. Trusting people so much that even when faced with all that evidence he did not stop loving her. But he had given so much to Ray, shown him a better way, given him optimism. Turned some of his cynicism into faith; faith in human nature. All Benny ever wanted was to make the world a better place. There weren't enough Benny's. I need him here where he can work his magic, make us all better people.
Ray gripped the metal end of the bed, looked up from his feet to the body on the bed, registered the faint regular breathing of the friend he had shot and waited for the memories to stop.
