A/N: May not be the greatest, just decided to write out of nowhere and this is what came to me. I'm sorry if parts seem a little bit rushed, but I had some trouble getting from one part to another. On a better note (never sure if it's really a good thing or not for ya) I left you with a cliffie.
Chapter Seven: Two Kinds of Duty
"Lieutenant Welsh? Sir?" Maggie asked through the phone she had on loan from one of Welsh's detectives, "Ray had left his apartment with an unknown male. He called me and asked me not to follow, but it feels..."
"Hinky?" He finished for her and upon her silence, he clarified, "It doesn't feel right."
"Yes sir," she told him, sounding uneasy. "I'm following them now, not closely however. I'm afraid that whoever this man is, could injure Ray if he knew I was following them."
"That could very well be," Welsh commented quietly, "Where are you now and what direction are you going?"
"That last street sign I saw said Rollins Avenue," she told him after a moment of thinking, "And I believe I'm driving 13 degrees due east southeast. Heading towards an industrial part of the city as far as I can tell."
"What is it with you mounties? Do you have some kind of sixth sense for direction?" Welsh asked incredulously.
"Well sir, some of us may. I don't know... I just use my compass," she continued driving, striving not to lose the truck Ray had been unceremoniously shoved into. "Sir, will you and Inspector Thatcher be accompanying me?"
"Yes Constable, just follow them for now. Don't leave your vehicle until we meet up with you," Welsh ordered quickly, already signaling to Elaine, who'd only just been notified of Fraser's state of being, to call the Inspector. "Is that clear Constable?"
"Perfectly clear Sir," she answered promptly, moving in and out of traffic, "Goodbye Sir."
"Goodbye Constable and be careful," he told her before hanging up.
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"Get out," Casey hissed, grabbing him roughly by his collar, "Come on, ya wanna see your friend doncha?" He jabbed his gun into Ray's back, forcing him forward into the dingy and mostly vacant apartment building.
"I'm movin', I'm movin'," Ray muttered, hands up slightly in acquiescence. He stumbled into the apartment and his eyes immediately found his friend, "Fraser! Buddy you okay?"
Fraser seemed to think about it for a moment and upon deciding that being alive was okay enough for him, he nodded silently.
"Man Frase, you don't look okay," Ray told him, still being held onto tightly by the collar with that damn gun pressed behind his ear. He took a moment to take in his friend's appearance. 'He looks like shit' was his first thought. One side of his head was plastered with still drying blood, a dark bruise forming on his face in the shape of a handprint and one shoulder looked significantly larger than the other.
"He's fine," Casey hissed pushing him forward, looking disgusted at having to even touch him, "No thanks to you." He jerked his head towards Ray's belt, "Put your handcuffs to use over by your buddy Detective. Go on, don't be shy."
If looks could kill, their trouble would be over and Casey would have just died on the spot with the glare Ray shot at him. Still, Ray complied reluctantly, handcuffing himself beside Fraser, "Glad yer... ya know, alive."
'Me too,' Fraser thought to himself, although he was not quite sure how long he was going to stay that way.
"Alright Vecchio, where the hell is he?" Casey hissed, crouching down in front of him, "Tell me where he is and I'll let the both of you go right now. Does that sound like a deal?"
"Somehow I really don't believe ya'd hold up to yer end," Ray muttered wryly, earning himself a solid fist to the face, "Oh ya, now I'm just gonna spill my guts..."
"I don't like your attitude," Casey hissed at him angrily.
"What am I, you're son or something?" Ray shook his head as he spat it out and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Fraser wince inwardly. He looked back over at Casey, who's face was quickly growing red with anger. "Hey look, whatever I said that upse-" He was cut off when all the breath was sucked out of his lungs.
"My boys," Casey snapped, dealing another blow, "are dead because of you."
"Look I don't know what yer talking about," Ray insisted when he regained his breath slowly, "I really don't."
"Maybe if I hurt your mountie friend you'd be a little more willing to talk? What do you think mountie?" Casey ripped off the tape from Fraser's mouth.
"Don't tell him Ray," Fraser got out quickly, "Don't tell him. He's going to kill us either way."
"Shut up," Casey snapped, before addressing Ray, "He is right you know." He was smiling now, "but whether it's quick or drawn out, is up to you Vecchio."
"I. Don't. Know," Ray said slowly, trying to drive that fact into the man's skull, "How many times do I have to say it?"
"Alright, what should I shoot first?" Casey asked, pointing the gun at Fraser, "Shoulder?" He pressed the barrel against Fraser's injured shoulder, watching Ray wince at his friend's attempt to hide the pain of the action, "Kneecap?" He moved the gun down to his knee, "Temple?" He put the barrel to his temple, screwing it sideways so it twisted up the skin a little, "Hurry up Vecchio, I don't have all day."
"Alright, alright," Ray placated, "I'll tell ya, but ya have to promise to let him go. You can kill me or whatever, I don't care. Ya just gotta let him go."
"Ray," Fraser interjected but Ray ignored him.
"Do we have a deal Mr. Scumbag?" Ray asked Casey, still glaring angrily.
"Ray," Fraser tried to interject again, but to no avail. Neither of them were listening to him.
"How's the Yank supposed to tell him something he doesn't know?" His father asked him, looking on curiously.
"What did I say about calling me 'the Yank'?" Ray muttered to Fraser's father, "Is it that hard to learn my name. Ray, come on, say it with me now... Raaaay."
Casey tapped the gun against Fraser's head, beckoning their attention again, "Okay, you're both insane... I get that. Now just tell me where he is. Tell me where he is and I'll let him," he tapped the gun against Fraser's head again, "go."
"Alright Mr. Scumbag," Ray shrugged for a moment, "Hell. He died two years ago."
"You're lying to me," He hissed, his finger tightening around the trigger, and he repeated himself, "You're lying to me."
"Why the hell would I lie?" Ray protested, although, in truth he was lying, "You've got the motive and opportunity to kill my best friend. You really think I'm gonna lie to you?"
"Best friend Ray? I wasn't aware," Fraser said despite himself.
"Not like it matters now Frase," Ray reminded him with a shake of his head, "Guy's gonna kill us if ya haven't forgetten."
Casey moved away from them, grabbing a red jerry can and pouring the liquid inside it out over the floor. When it was empty, he moved onto the next until three of them were emptied around the apartment. What seemed off, was the fact none of the gasoline was poured anywhere near them, always several feet away. He grabbed the last one, making sure to dump it directly over his captive's heads. "You've got one last chance Vecchio."
"When I meet him, I'm going to kill him," Ray muttered to himself as gasoline dripped off his flattened hair and onto his face.
"Ray," Fraser tried to stop him from continuing, "Ray stop."
"What? It's his fault isn't it?" Ray snapped, "I never should have took this job. I wouldn't be in this mess and neither would you probably. Ya'd still be in Canada somewhere, living it up in the ice and snow."
"Ray," he lowered his voice, "Ray, you've got to stop. You'll put him in danger."
"Like he hasn't already done that to us Fraser?! I mean we're about to be burnt freakin' alive!" Ray shook his head and feel silent, teeth clenched together in anger. He had, at the moment, no love for Fraser's old partner.
"What are you talking about?" Casey asked, flicking the lighter threateningly, "What?"
"Nothing, we're insane, remember?" He muttered to Fraser's satisfaction. "Just forget it. You're little friend guy or whatever you wanted to find is dead, you're going to kill us, end of story."
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"Maggie, you've got to go in there." Fraser Sr told his daughter after appearing in her rental car, "There's not much time."
"I was given strict orders to wait for my superiors Dad," Maggie reminded him quietly, keeping a firm eye on the apartment building, "Inspector Thatcher and Lieutenant Welsh should be here any moment. I'm not armed, I can't just waltz in there."
"He's going to kill them Maggie," Fraser Sr insisted, "There's two kinds of duty. There's duty Maggie, and then there's duty."
"What are you going on about now?" She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
"There's duty to your job, and there's duty to your family," he advised quietly, "Don't wait until you're dead like I did, to realize which one is more important." He looked down in what looked like shame.
"Alright Dad," she climbed out of the car, making sure to tuck her standard issue gun into her holster.
"I thought you said you weren't armed?" He asked and she shrugged.
"It's not loaded, but they don't need to know that," she managed a smile and jogged into the building. She could hear yelling, but finding out behind which door it was coming from was the difficult part. She listened intently for a moment, determining it was coming from the third door on the left. As she approached it, it opened, the man who'd taken Ray slipping out.
He recognized her immediately, and aimed his gun, "You're too late Maggie."
Her own gun was in her hand, pointed firmly in his direction, "What are you talking about?"
"It's going to take only about three more minutes for the fire to reach them. I wanted to give them some time to think about it," He told her, finger tight on the trigger, "Think you can save them? Vecchio doesn't deserve to be saved."
He pushed passed her, as she went for the door. The doorknob wouldn't budge, the man she'd let go had locked it. Lifting her leg without a moment's hesitation she kicked it open, "Ben? Ray?"
"Maggie, get out of here!" Ray yelled at her from behind a wall of fire, "Just go."
"Gotta do my duty Ray," she called back to him. In the fire, she could see her father's proud face. She looked around for a moment, a blanket catching her eye. Grabbing it, she dashed into the bathroom, the only room not blocked by flames and ran it under the shower, her fully clothed self included. When she rushed back out into the living room area, she noticed the fire had moved closer to Ray and Benton.
Wrapping the sodden cloth around her, she ran through the fire, "We've got to go."
"Keys." Ray commented and she knelt down and struggled to release the handcuffs holding him. She uncuffed Fraser as Ray was scrambling to his feet, "Alright... there's no way Fraser and me are getting through there."
"I don't think I'm going anywhere easily," Fraser murmured as his sister helped him to his feet, hissing a little as she jostled his shoulder accidentally.
"There's always the fire escape," she jerked her head over to the window.
"So aptly named," Ray muttered, already trying to force the window open, "It's been painted over, it won't budge. Who paints over the window leading to the fire escape? Oh yeah, kidnappers who want you to burn to death."
"My knife Ray," she passed it to him and he ran the blade along the chipped paint and struggled with the window again.
"The fire's getting awfully close," Fraser found it pertinent to remind them, wincing as the heat of the room steadily increased. He glanced back, and looked back at Ray, "Quite close."
"You'll need this more than me," Maggie muttered, grabbing the wet blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders gently, "Hopefully it'll hold off the flames a little longer." It might, she knew, but only by a few precious seconds.
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Chapter Eight -Failure to Cooperate - Thatcher and Welsh show up at the apartment building... finally. Will they find any bodies inside? Oh yes and IAB is still being an ass.
Ah yes, please review! Makes me happy ya know.
