Josh sat on his couch in a suburb of Chicago watching the news, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He'd put in a twelve hour day framing houses that he could never dream of buying for himself. He built half million dollar homes lining cul de sacs that all looked alike and had two car garages fifteen feet from the front door. Every day he and his crew leveled more farmland for the cookie cutter boxes. Where there had once been pasture land for horses, cattle, and family owned farms he laid out square streets and septic systems. Still, it was honest work and kept the bills paid through the winter, the two most important things to Josh Whitehead.

BANG! BANG! BANG! "Police, open up." An angry voice at the door made Josh spill beer all down his t-shirt. Cursing, he answered the door in his barefeet and jogging pants.

"What is it? I ain't done nothin'" Josh stared face to face with a slight built detective with a gun and a badge to support his pissed off expression.

"We are looking for Derek Thompson, we know he works for your construction company, Mr. Whitehead." A tall, oddly uniformed man answered.

"I'm Detective Vecchio, this is Constable Fraser. Now tell us where he is." The balding detective ordered.

"I don't know where Derek is, probably at home, drunk." Josh stood his ground.

"Nah, we know he ain't there. See, we know you bailed him out of jail this afternoon. Tell us where he is or I start calling the IRS, Immigration, the whole alphabet soup on you, Pal." Ray stood with his hands on his hips, his badge hanging from his belt.

"I don't know where Derek is, dude, I dropped him off at his apartment building and went back to work. I got two dozen guys that can back me up on this." Josh threw his hands up.

"Does Derek Thompson have any friends he may be staying with, any place he frequents?" Ben asked, fishing for information while Ray intimidated the guy.

"Yeah, he likes a bar over on the rough side of town, the Silver Spike. If he's not at home he's usually there, drinking." Josh crossed his arms over his chest. His skin was the color of a paper grocery bag from years of being out in the sun all day.

"Come on, Ray." Fraser saw the truth in the man's face. "Thank you kindly, Sir." The mountie pulled on Ray's arm to get him to leave the apartment.

"You may want to put on your bullet proof vest, Detective, Derek Thompson ain't going back to prison alive." Josh warned him.

The Silver Spike was a run down bar on the ege of the city. There were women in their forties hanging unsuccessfully onto their twenties. Harley-Davidson motorcycles were parked out front of the small dive. It wasn't a place for Lexus sedans or BMW's. If someone with that kind of money showed up it was usually because they were looking for a night out on the wild side. Ray pulled his Buick Riviera into a convienience store a block a way.

"What's this guy look like again?" Ray asked as he checked his weapon.

"I'll know him when I see him, Ray, don't worry." Ben's jaw clenched as he thought of putting Derek Thompson in prison.

"You ready for this, cowboy?" The detective stopped beneath the neon lights advertising several kinds of beer.

"As ready as I will ever be." Ben took a deep breath before Ray opened the door. Walking into a bar, kinda like a bad joke, the odd pair looked around the smoky space for Derek Thompson. They spotted him at the end of the bar, a mug and several shot glasses on the bar before him.

"Derek Thompson, you're under arrest." Ray's voice cut through the recorded music and hum of voices. The construction worker panicked. He slid down off the bar stool and took off behind the bar toward the fire exit. To look at the dump one wouldn't have thought it but when he hit the door the fire alarm blared. It was so loud it was like sitting inside a police siren while it was on.

"Stop! Police!" Ray took out after the man. "Follow me, Benny." Ben split out the front door and went around the building. He was standing in the alley behind the bar, waiting. A single flood light illuminated the narrow alley. Derek turned when he saw the mountie. Ray skidded to a stop. Derek Thompson was trapped between a Chicago detective and a Canadian mountie. He saw no hope of escape. Derek reached behind him as he faced Ray.

"Ray, he has a weapon." Ben shouted. The detective pulled his service revolver.

"I ain't going back to prison." His voice came out gruffly. Ray held his handgun at the ready as Derek brandished his.

"Put down the weapon and let's talk about it, Derek." Ben began. Ray wondered why the mountie bothered. It would be doing the world and Mary a favor if he committed suicide-by-cop.

"Like I said, I ain't going to prison again." His eyes spoke of the fear that his voice wouldn't.

"I can't promise that you won't, Derek, but this doesn't have to end with you dead." Ben stepped a bit closer. Derek pointed the gun at him. If he pulled the trigger there was no way that he could miss the mountie.

"You aren't taking me anywhere, neither of you." Derek stepped to the side of the alley.

"How will your child grow up without a father, Derek?" Ben changed the subject.

"I don't have any kids, what are you talking about?" He stared at the mountie like he'd grown a third head.

"Mary won't tell you, but she's in her first trimester, she's expecting your child." Ben saw the indecision pass over the man's face. Then he saw his face harden.

"The dam thing ain't mine. She's been screwing around. There ain't no telling whose it is." Derek charged, his handgun pointed toward Benton.

"One more step and I put a bullet in you." Ray warned. The beefy construction worker turned the gun on the detective. Ray saw the muzzle staring back at him. He felt his finger itching to pull the trigger of his service revolver.

"If Mary were cheating on you, would she have signed in to visit you every visitor's day for the last ten years? Would she have worked so hard trying to make your apartment a home?" Ben stepped closer, drawing Derek's attention away from Ray.

"What in the hell would you know?" Derek shook the gun in the mountie's face. With a snarl, the beefy construction worker lunged at Ben. One shot rang out. At over seven hundred feet per second, the bullet from Ray's gun hit Derek faster than the human eye could detect. Derek crumpled at Ben's feet. He lay screaming, clutching his right arm. Ray and Ben looked at each other.

"I'll call dispatch." Ben volunteered. Seeing Derek rolling on the pavement was just a little too satisfying for the mountie's tastes.

Frannie met Benton outside the hospital. She'd kept a tab on Mary's condition through a friend of a friend working at the hospital. The damage done was extensive but the doctors expected her to pull through.

"They told her that her jaw would be wired shut for six weeks. Ah, can you imagine, nothing but liquids for that long. I'd go on a diet like that but it would definitely require having my jaw wired shut. I'd finally get down to a size four again. I wonder if Ma would put her lasagna in a blender." Frannie talked faster than the mountie could process it all. The mountie held a single, yellow rose.

"She's been waiting for you, Constable Fraser." a kind face nurse beckoned him into Mary's, her room.

Mary's face brightened when she saw Fraser. She wiggled her fingers at him to come in. Frannie followed him in, a big smile on her face. It was a very quiet conversation. Mary, between hand gestures and writing on a note pad, told Fraser how much she appreciated him for saving her-again. Her eyes danced when he handed her the yellow rose. It was a long conversation. Mary was definitely in favor of dumping Derek and pressing charges. She had a long to-do list: press attempted murder charges, get divorced, see a prenatal doctor, find a job, get an apartment. All of them were life changing steps.

"I will help you with anything you need, Mary." Ben offered as her sapphire eyes began drooping after a two hour visit.

"We should go." Frannie took Ben's arm and let him escort her out of the room.

"You made a big difference in Mary's life, Fraser. She's going to be alright because of you." Frannie laid her head on his shoulder for a moment, looking up into his eyes.

"It's the least I could do." He studied the horizon out ahead of him like he hadn't seen it in a while.

"You really put your neck out for her, Fraser. It wasn't the 'least' you could do." The optimistic Vecchio sister explained. He gave her a conciliatory smile and a nod.

"You are such a softie, Benton Fraser." Frannie wagged a well manicured finger at him. They both smiled.

"Mary will be fine. She's outside Derek's power now and under her own." The mountie adjusted his Stetson and walked Frannie out into the afternoon.

The End

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