Chapter 11

Christmas dinner went very smoothly. Fraser had constructed a long dining table out of...well, Ray wasn't sure what it was made of actually, but it was sturdy and functional and big enough for everyone to sit around. Barbara Kowalski produced a huge feast and everyone overate. "More pumpkin pie anyone?" asked Barbara, just as Ray was starting to fall asleep at the table.

"Jeez Mum, how many of those did ya make?" asked Ray, rubbing his stomach gently to try to relieve some of the discomfort.

"Three," replied Barbara. "Well you young men need feeding up, you're far too skinny, especially you Stanley."

"Leave the boy alone," Damien chided his wife, "he needs to be lean to chase all those criminals. The last thing this city needs is a plus size cop." He looked down at his own belly dejectedly. He'd actually lost a few pounds since his diagnosis, partly because he was on a strict diet now as certain foods could aggravate his condition, but also partly because of the worry. He'd not had much of an appetite at all.

Ray grinned. "Ya keep goin' like that Dad and I'll have ya out on the streets chasin' the scumbags for me."

Damien laughed. He was so proud of his son, he was so proud of his chosen career, but after everything that had happened between them he wasn't sure how he could ever express that. He didn't recognise the man he used to be at all now. He had no idea why he'd objected so strongly to Raymond becoming a Police officer all those years ago, but something had clicked in his mind and he'd been too stubborn ever since to admit that he was wrong, either to himself or to his son. He needed to correct that as soon as possible, he had to tell Raymond how he felt. He hoped that he already knew, he felt sure that Raymond understood, somehow, on some level, but that was no excuse. He had to put his feelings into words and talk to Raymond, really talk to him, before it was too late. The last couple of weeks had made Damien more painfully aware of his own mortality than he'd ever been and he also realised that his son risked his own life every day to protect the citizens of Chicago. God forbid anything were to happen to Raymond, Damien thought, he would never forgive himself if he hadn't told his son how sorry he was for all those lost years.

Fraser had noticed Damien had become lost in his thoughts. He glanced at Barbara who'd noticed it too. "Well if everyone's finished eating, I'll start clearing away," said Barbara, "Stanley, why don't you see what's on TV? I think they're showing Miracle on 34th Street again, that's such a wonderful movie isn't it Damien." Damien hated that movie, but he wasn't going to tell his wife that, he knew it was one of her favourites, so he just smiled and nodded.

"Let me help you Barbara," offered Mel, "that was the most delicious ham I've ever had. What did you put in the glaze?"

"Ah well that's my little secret," smiled Barbara.

"Allow me to assist you as well," offered Fraser, surveying the remains of the meal and the state of Ray's tiny kitchen area. Barbara nodded appreciatively.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to empty my bladder," Turnbull announced and headed for the bathroom while Ray and his Dad settled themselves on the sofa, pushing a sleepy Diefenbaker onto the floor to make room.

As Fraser began washing pots and pans, Barbara salvaged all the leftovers and wrapped them up before putting them in Ray's fridge. His friend's fridge had never been so well stocked, Fraser observed, since his mother had been living with him. He knew that Ray was getting to the end of his tether though, having his parents there had been an extremely testing time, but Fraser had noticed that Ray and his Dad had been more relaxed in each other's company during the meal today than he'd ever seen them before. He was so pleased, they had both made so much effort to rebuild their relationship and Fraser knew how hard that must have been for both of them.

Fraser just wished he'd had the same opportunity with his own father, although they were getting along much better now since his father had died. To anyone else that statement would have sounded like a sick joke, Fraser realised with a tiny laugh to himself, but to him it was the truth. The first time Bob Fraser had appeared in the back seat of the real Ray Vecchio's 1972 green Buick Riviera, Fraser had assumed he'd finally lost all of his marbles, however, as inexplicable as it was, he now realised that the ghost of his dead father really did live in a supernatural cabin in his closet at the Consulate and he really did visit him regularly with helpful and sometimes not so helpful advice. Fraser had learnt a long time ago not to question the logic of it any more. Some things simply couldn't be explained by logic, or by the same rules as other things in this world, the Inuit had taught him that. So now he accepted it. His father hadn't appeared yet today though, but Fraser hoped he would visit him before the day was over.

Suddenly Fraser was aware that Melissa was breathing heavily and her eyes were closed. She was holding a plate in one hand, but she'd frozen in the middle of drying it with a tea towel. "Melissa," he said as gently as he could. Mel's eyes snapped open and she screamed and dropped the plate. Fraser plucked it out of the air before it had a chance to hit the floor. His almost superhuman feat amazed Mel and brought her back to reality. "I'm so sorry I startled you," he said. "Are you alright?"

Mel nodded, but he could tell that she was anything but alright. "Another flashback?" he whispered and she nodded.

"When is all this going to be over?" she asked in a trembling voice. Fraser wished he could give her a definitive answer, but they both knew he couldn't.

"You're doing so well," he said, squeezing her shoulder supportively, "but it's going to take time. Perhaps you should reconsider visiting a counsellor? I know you've already rejected the idea, but I've seen this particular kind of therapy work so well for other people in your position. All you have to do is talk to him or her, it's not as hard as you might imagine."

Mel looked at him and nodded slowly. "OK," she said quietly. She knew she couldn't go on like this, she wanted to get her life back, she wanted to be able to go to the mall or take a walk in the park on a Sunday morning without the constant fear that she was carrying around now. She knew Trafford was in jail and he was going to be staying there for a long time, but she just didn't feel safe anymore, unless Turnbull was with her...or Fraser or Ray, but that wasn't quite the same as having Turnbull by her side.

Fraser beckoned for Turnbull to come and join them. He'd been enthusiastically pointing out the continuity errors in Miracle on 34th Street and ruining the whole movie for Ray. Reluctantly, the younger Mountie dragged himself away from the TV. "Constable Turnbull, I think you should take Melissa back to the Consulate now, she is a little...tired."

Mel really appreciated Fraser's discretion. She didn't really want Turnbull to know how badly she'd been affected by what happened to her. "Thanks," she smiled at Fraser as Turnbull went to fetch their coats.

"He won't think any less of you," Fraser said, lowering his voice so that Turnbull wouldn't hear him.

Mel hung her head, she knew he was right, she wanted to talk to Turnbull, she trusted him and she knew he would be sympathetic to her feelings. He was a cop, he knew how these things worked out, he knew how even the strongest people could find it hard to cope sometimes. "I know," she said. She was determined not to start the New Year in the same way as the current one had ended. She was determined to do something positive to help herself. She had to look to the future and maybe her future would include Turnbull...her heart skipped a beat at that last thought.

Turnbull quickly returned with her coat and slipped it around her shoulders. Then he put his arm protectively around her waist and they headed for the door, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas before they went.

They left Ray's apartment building hand in hand. After a few minutes Mel relaxed her grip, rotated her hand slightly and interlocked her fingers with Turnbull's. He didn't object or even say anything about it so they continued walking like that. Mel wanted to ask him something, she'd been thinking about it for a few days, but wasn't sure how she was going to say it. "Turnbull," she began nervously, "I have a spare room in my apartment..."

"Well that must be very useful for storage," replied Turnbull.

Mel sighed, he wasn't getting it was he... She tried a different approach. "Ray told me the other day that you, um, live in a cardboard box."

"That's correct," he answered proudly, "and very nice it is too."

Mel wasn't sure if he was joking. Ray had told her that he wasn't even sure if it was true or not, but that's what Fraser had told him. Maybe it was some kind of Mountie joke, she wondered. Yesterday, Fraser had made a joke about a polar bear standing on his head. She hadn't got it at all and neither had Ray, but Fraser and Turnbull had both had tears of laughter streaming down their faces. "Well, the thing is...I know I can't stay at the Consulate for much longer and I need to move back home, but..." her voice trailed off and she stopped walking, pulling Turnbull round to face her. "I'm scared," she admitted quietly. "I'm scared of being alone. Every noise, every time I hear someone slam their door, every time I hear Mr and Mrs Petretski downstairs throwing things at each other...a dog barking, a car pulling up...I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep, Turnbull I'm a wreck..." Her voice cracked.

Turnbull squeezed her hand tightly. "Melissa, you're not a wreck," he smiled, "you're experiencing anxiety and very few people in your position would feel any differently."

Mel tried to smile too. "I know," she nodded, "but...it's just that I've got used to having you there. I...I was wondering..."

"Wondering what?" Turnbull interrupted her. He suddenly realised what she might be trying to ask him, why she'd told him about her spare room, but he was trying not to get his hopes up too high. He was used to being let down, people always let him down and he'd learned to live with it, he didn't want to get too excited, he was probably reading this all wrong anyway. His heart was racing now though.

"I thought maybe you'd like to move in with me," she asked, rushing out her question quickly before she could stumble over her words, "as...as a roommate, I mean, I'm not...I don't want you to think...not that I don't...I'll need to get a bed for the other room, and anything else you need, er, a nightstand and maybe some drawers..." She was babbling now, she realised, she was getting too excited. He was going to say no anyway, she thought to herself, he was obviously happy in his cardboard box. He was a man of few possessions, she'd realised that now, so the promise of new furniture wasn't going to persuade him. Like Fraser, he didn't need home comforts, Fraser seemed happy living in his office, sleeping in his poor excuse for a bed and she assumed Turnbull was the same. He was going to say no.

"Yes," he replied suddenly, his smile broadening, "yes, I'd...I'd like that very much. If my presence will be of comfort to you, then I'll gladly become your roommate at the earliest opportunity." He raised his hand, pulling hers with it and lifted it to his lips. Gently he kissed her knuckles. "I can think of nowhere else I'd rather live."

Mel threw her arms around him and held him, trying to hide her tears of happiness. She never wanted to let him go, not now, not ever.

Turnbull couldn't have been happier. He'd never had a roommate before, unless you counted Greg Astley when he was at the Training Academy. That hadn't been a particularly enjoyable experience though, Greg kept putting dog poop in Turnbull's bed, apparently it was meant to be amusing, so Turnbull had taken to sleeping out by the stables. He was glad Melissa wasn't a fan of practical jokes. This was going to be nothing like that at all, this was going to be...special. He briefly allowed his mind to wander...storage space might be useful, he thought, if we had things to store, Christmas decorations perhaps, so maybe he shouldn't take up the spare room forever, perhaps...no, no, too soon. For now he would live with her as a friend and make her feel safe. That was enough for now.

Mel was having similar thoughts of course. He'd said yes and she could hardly believe how happy she was. They were just friends, very close friends, but she knew that she loved him. What else could she feel? She wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for him and she would always love him for that reason alone, even if this was as far as their relationship ever went. Perhaps one day...maybe this could lead to something more, she wondered. Maybe by next Christmas they could be... She sighed. For now all she knew was that this man saved her life and she wanted him close to her while she healed. She had no idea how long that was going to take and she knew she should take things slowly with Turnbull. At this very moment though, it all felt so right. Spontaneously she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Turnbull blushed and tried, but failed to say something. Instead he held her hand tightly again, interlocking their fingers once more and they walked back to the Consulate.

xXx

"He's a strange one, that Turnbull," said Damien after he and Mel had left.

Ray laughed. "The guy's more of a freak than Fraser here, but it looks like he, er, makes Mel happy."

Barbara smiled. "They do seem perfect for each other," she agreed, "I don't know what we were ever thinking when we tried matchmaking Stanley."

Ray shrugged. "Just don't try it again OK."

"Anyway Raymond, you were going to show me those citations," said Damien. "I'm ashamed to say I've never asked to see them before Benton. Well I want to see them now, but Raymond is very shy about his service record."

"Yeah, well it's nothin' special really," shrugged Ray, "I think I put 'em in a shoebox over here," he said, walking over to his bookcase.

"Oh dear," mumbled Fraser, glancing at Barbara.

Ray immediately realised something was going on. "What?" he said, "what are ya plottin' with my Mum buddy?"

"Plotting?" Fraser tried his best innocent face, but Ray saw right through it. He pulled the battered shoebox from the shelf and rummaged through all his old Police paperwork, but his citations weren't in there. He looked at Fraser with his eyebrows raised, expecting an explanation.

"I think I should probably give you your Christmas present now Stanley," said Barbara glancing nervously at Fraser. She went into the bedroom and came back with a neatly wrapped parcel. "I'm sorry it's not more, but your Dad and I don't have a lot of money at the moment," she said apologetically.

Ray smiled. His folks had never had a lot of money. He remembered Christmasses as a kid, he always had a lot of presents under the tree, but most of them were second hand, bought from thrift stores or garage sales. He hadn't really minded and any of his so called friends who picked on him over it soon regretted it after Ray's temper got the better of him in the schoolyard. He tore the brightly coloured paper off to reveal his three citations, neatly mounted in silver frames. He was speechless and he choked back tears as he handed them to his Dad to read for the first time. He threw his arms around Barbara. "Thanks Mum," he said. Then he looked at Fraser. "I guess it was you, er, told her where they were?" Fraser nodded sheepishly.

"They deserve to be on display Stanley," said Barbara. "Your father and I are so proud of you, aren't we Damien."

Damien carefully put down the frames and stood up. "Yes Son," he began, his voice cracking with emotion, "we are," and he hugged Ray tightly. He couldn't believe the words he'd just read on the citation certificates. His son had saved a child's life, even though he'd already taken a bullet himself, then he rescued four innocent people from three gunmen and then he'd single handedly recaptured three dangerous fugitives. His son had done all of those things and yet he'd had no idea, all this time and Damien had had no idea. He swallowed hard to stop himself becoming completely overwhelmed with emotion.

Fraser took a step backwards and let the Kowalski's have a family moment.

"Warms your heart doesn't it Son."

Fraser jumped at the sound of his father's voice. "Hi Dad, I thought you might show up," he said, then his voice softened. "Merry Christmas Dad," he added, suddenly wishing he could hug his own father just like Ray. Even when he'd been alive, Fraser's Dad had never been one for hugging. In fact most displays of emotion had been apparently beyond his capabilities.

"Merry Christmas Benton," nodded Bob.

"So what exactly have you been doing today?" asked Fraser, as Dief started growling at the ghost.

"Just the usual Christmas things Son," replied Bob, "roasting chestnuts, singing carols, that sort of thing."

Fraser shook his head in disbelief. Of course he had, he thought incredulously, what else would they do in the afterlife? "Well, that's, um, nice," Fraser said, unsure exactly how he should respond.

"What is with your wolf today?" asked Bob, scowling at Dief who was still growling at him.

"Ah, it's most likely your choice of headgear Dad," replied Fraser, "I believe those are known as head boppers? Wearing flashing Santa's mounted on springs on your head is disturbing his sensibilities."

"Where's his Christmas spirit?" asked Bob in disgust.

"I believe he's eaten it," retorted Fraser, glaring at Dief and then his father was gone.

xXx

A little later, after Damien and Barbara had both snoozed through another Christmas movie on TV and Fraser had beaten Ray at Scrabble for the ninth time, Dief was starting to get restless. "I should probably be going," said Fraser.

"Already?" asked a sleepy Barbara, "but there's so much food left? Won't you stay a little longer?"

Fraser knew he couldn't eat another mouthful, but Dief's ears had pricked up at the mention of more food so Fraser sat with Damien and Ray while Barbara filled another plate of food for the wolf. "Have you heard from your insurance company yet?" Fraser asked Ray's Dad.

"Yes we have," replied Damien, "but you know how these things go, it'll probably be months before we get the money through. We do have a plan though..." his voice trailed off and he glanced towards the kitchen, "perhaps I should wait for your mother."

Ray was suddenly nervous. "What plan Dad?" he asked.

"Well, we've decided that we can't wait for the money, so we're going to hire another motorhome temporarily and do a little more travelling," explained Damien, "go east this time, maybe head for Massachusetts, your mother's always loved that song."

Barbara walked back just in time to see her son's face fall. "I assume your Dad's told you about our travel plans," she said. "I'm sorry, but we've got itchy feet. You could always come with us?"

Ray laughed. "Jeez Mum thanks, but I can't. Massachusetts? Really? This time of year? I think I'd rather face the crackheads in Chicago than spend weeks on end in a freezin' tin can on wheels."

"I love the winter Stanley," replied Barbara, "our country is so beautiful, you really should explore it someday."

Ray laughed. "OK, someday maybe I will, but first place I'm goin' is LA...in June. Sandy beaches, girls in bikinis...what d'ya say buddy? You and me on a, er, road trip, are ya with me?"

Fraser laughed too. "Well I must say, that does sound rather fun. We'll have to share the driving though, driving for prolonged periods is terribly dangerous."

"Well thanks for the advice, Mr Health and Safety," replied Ray sarcastically. Then he looked at his Mum. "I bet Dad doesn't let ya near the wheel at all, right?" he laughed.

Suddenly Damien wasn't laughing any more. He looked sadly at his wife. Ray was immediately concerned. "What's the matter Dad?" he asked. Damien was silent.

"Tell him Damien," urged Barbara.

Ray was starting to get really worried now. "What? Tell me what?"

Damien hung his head sadly. "They took away my licence Raymond."

"What!" exclaimed Ray, "Why? What for? What did ya do?"

"I didn't do anything," replied Damien, "at least, not the kind of thing you're thinking. They said I'm unfit to drive, what with having this goddamn epilepsy now." His voice cracked with emotion and he couldn't speak any more.

Ray was close to tears himself. "I'm...I'm sorry Dad." Driving was his Dad's life, throughout his whole childhood they would go out for family drives, they weren't going anywhere in particular, but his Dad had just enjoyed driving so much. They'd always had an old car in pieces in front of their house, a project that he and his Dad would work on together until it was fully restored and then Damien would drive it. He'd drive far out of the city, onto open roads, just so he could feel the engine reach its full potential. Of course driving a motorhome wasn't the same as a classic car, but the principal was still the same. He still had the freedom to start up the engine and go anywhere he wanted, but now it seemed that had been cruelly taken away from him. It wasn't fair, how was this fair? "Why didn't ya tell me?"

"It might only be temporary," Barbara explained. "If his medication works out and he can prove he's not going to have a fit at the wheel, then he may be able to reapply for his licence in six months to a year."

Ray let out a small breath. So there was still a glimmer of hope, but six months to a year was going to feel like forever for his Dad. Ray instinctively hugged his father again. "Why don't ya hang around here until ya can get your licence back?" he asked.

Damien was a little taken aback. "Don't worry about me Raymond," he said, trying to stay positive about it, "I'm really looking forward to this trip. I'll be able to take in the scenery for a change. Your mother is a perfectly good driver."

"Yes and you're the worst passenger in the world," laughed Barbara. She smiled at Ray as he released his Dad from his arms. "We talked about staying in Chicago Stanley, but all of this has made us realise how precious time is. When you get to our age you don't want to put things off for too long."

"Hey, don't talk like that Mum," snapped Ray. He couldn't bear to think that way about his folks.

"Now come on Raymond," said Damien, "I'm sure we have a few good years left in us yet, but we really need to get back on the road, it's our life. We won't be gone for long though, I promise we'll be back in a few months."

"And we'll call you every week," smiled Barbara, "this is different to the last time, we're never going to lose touch with you again Stanley, not now, I love you."

That was it, Ray couldn't hold back his tears any longer. "I love you too Mum," he said, "and you Dad." He took a moment to compose his thoughts and wipe the tears from his face. "I know ya love travellin', but I'm just gonna miss ya so much."

"And we'll miss you too, but we'll be back before you know it," said Damien, patting his son affectionately on the back. "This has been the best Christmas day we've had in years."

xXx

Fraser could tell that Ray needed to get some air and he suggested they walk Dief together, even though the wolf had settled himself back down quite comfortably and really didn't want to go out. They left Ray's parents dozing again and headed out into the cold evening. Ray was unusually quiet. "Are you alright Ray?" asked Fraser.

Ray nodded. "Yeah, I guess," he replied. "I just didn't think my folks would be leavin' already."

"As your father said Ray, they only plan to be gone for a few months at most," Fraser pointed out, "this isn't like the last time, this isn't like Arizona."

Ray nodded. "Yeah I know," he managed half a smile. "Y'know, they drive me nuts sometimes, but I don't know what I'd do without them now."

Fraser nodded solemnly.

"Oh jeez buddy, I'm sorry," Ray could have kicked himself in the head for being so insensitive. "I guess ya miss your folks at this time of year."

"I miss them all year round," replied Fraser quietly.

Ray laid a supportive hand on his buddy's back. "I know," he said.

Fraser tried to change the subject. "It was good news about Tamara Hoffman," he said. "She still has a long fight ahead of her, but at least she's out of danger now. Luke must be so pleased that he is able to share Christmas with his wife."

"Yeah," agree Ray, "I wasn't sure she was gonna make it."

"Indeed," agreed Fraser. Then he went quiet again.

"So," Ray said brightly, changing the subject again, "Turnbull and Mel, what are the odds on those two gettin' together? Properly I mean."

"I would suggest, given current evidence, that the odds are quite high," replied Fraser.

Ray watched as his breath twisted out of his mouth against the freezing air. "Ya know he'll ask ya to be his Best Man," he grinned.

"Good heavens Ray, I think we might be getting a little ahead of ourselves, don't you?" laughed Fraser.

"Yeah well, maybe," admitted Ray, "I, er, I guess I'm just a hopeless romantic, or somethin'."

Fraser laughed. "Perhaps your parents might find you a suitable romantic companion on their travels?"

"Woah, no way, I'm not lettin' them try that again," laughed Ray. "I'll find someone, you'll see." He grinned at his partner. "And so will you buddy, there's a great girl out there for ya somewhere, I guess, er, we're just not lookin' hard enough? Next year is gonna be our year, two hot chicks for two hot cops, I can feel it Benton Buddy. Maybe we'll find 'em in LA?"

Fraser laughed again. "Are you being serious about this road trip?" he asked.

"Why not?" shrugged Ray. "We've gotta have somethin' to look forward to besides bustin' dope dealers and solvin' homicides?"

Fraser thought for a moment. He'd never been to anywhere like Los Angeles before, it sounded far too hot for his liking, but he thought perhaps he could tolerate it for a few days. "Alright then," he said finally, "we'll do it."

Ray grinned from ear to ear. "Greatness," he said. "Merry Christmas Fraser."

Fraser smiled too. "Merry Christmas Ray."

THE END