It's Not a Rollercoaster
but we can still blame it on Canada
A Due South fanfiction
by
CanonAntithesis
Disclaimer: See chapter one.
Chapter 11
A haggard man in green scrubs walked through the swinging doors of the waiting room. The room was packed, but no one even bothered to look up. They had spent the past six hours jumping to their feet at the least little movement from the direction of the operating room and were now completely burned out. Thirty minutes ago, Ray's mother had accosted a custodian and demanded that he tell her what was happening to her son. It took Lieutenant Welsh's intervention to stop the hospital from kicking her out.
The ferocious weather had finally broken about four hours earlier and Ray's entire immediate family, including his nieces and nephews, were crammed into the waiting room. Maria's middle two children were snuggled up against Elaine. It seemed she attracted children as easily as she attracted half-wolves.
One of Agent Ford's minions entered the waiting area from the opposite direction with two trays of coffee and an oversized bag of donuts. Even federal police knew about the power of the donut. Instantly, several members of Vecchio's family rose to help the agent. Tony Zeppeli, Maria's husband, took the bag from him and pulled out two donuts and started stuffing them into his mouth as he walked back to his seat.
"Watch it, buddy," mumbled Tony with a mouth full of donut as he brushed by a smaller man standing in the middle of the corridor.
"Excuse me," the haggard man in scrubs said as the dark haired, slovenly man passed him. "Can you tell me where I could find Mrs. Vecchio?"
However, Tony didn't hear him as he rushed over to his sleeping children with the bag of pastries. The man stood dumbfounded.
Elaine looked up as Tony approached and started to awakened the children, but they seemed to have some internal donut sensor and woke up instantly when Tony was still ten feet away. That's when Elaine noticed the man.
She jumped up immediately and ran over to him.
"Doctor Getch! How did the surgery go? How's Ray? Is everything alright? You looked exhausted." Everything came out in a rush.
Elaine's outburst finally attracted the attention of the Vecchios who swarmed him like a starving dog on a bone. They all spoke at the same time which was normal for them, but difficult for anyone else to understand. Finally, one voice prevailed above the fray.
"Would everyone just shut up!" Lt. Welsh's voice bellowed over the throng of noisy Vecchios.
There were a couple of disgruntled murmurs, but the crowd quickly quietened.
The lieutenant drew in a breath and exhaled before looking at the doctor and saying in a falsely calm voice, "Good. Now, Doc. Can you tell us how it went?"
oOo
"I have a question, Meg. Twice, our assailants referred to us as Sam and Susie. I do not understand the reference." Ben had his eyes closed. It seemed easier to talk to her if he didn't have to look at her.
"You know, from the song. Muskrat Love by Captain and Tennille."
"A love song about muskrats?"
"Yes. Look I know it seems crazy now, but in the mid 70's it was a very popular song. I was in junior high at the time and I actually loved that song." She started softly humming at first and then, started singing the chorus.
And they whirled and they twirled and they tangoed
Singin' and jingin' the jango
Floatin' like the heavens above
It looks like muskrat love
"Catchy. So, it's a song about a romantic liaison between two anthropomorphic muskrats?"
"Yes," Meg replied tersely. "And their names were Susie and Sam. I can't believe you never heard that song."
"We didn't own a television and my grandmother was very strict about my musical exposure."
"Well, in retrospect, it's probably for the best. In the annals of popular culture, it doesn't do anyone any favorites." She sighed, "Thank goodness, Captain and Tennille weren't Canadian."
oOo
The doctor allowed Ray's mother and one other person to go back to see Ray after his successful surgery. Mrs. Vecchio chose Maria. The older Vecchio daughter quickly handed off her baby daughter to her less-than-enthusiastic husband and followed her mother down the hall.
Elaine sat back down with the children and frantically tried to wipe away powdered sugar from her dark blue slacks. Tony's children dove into that bag of donuts like Diefenbaker on a Monday morning. Poor Fraser… he tried every weekend to get Dief's sweet tooth under control, but it never worked. On Monday's he made a bee-line for her desk and her abundant stash of goodies.
Diefenbaker! Elaine jumped to her feet and a shower of white powder floated to the floor.
Oh, Lord! Where was he? Ray left the station with Francesca and the half-wolf, so where was he now?
She hurried over to Francesca.
Vecchio's youngest sister was fuming in the corner because her mother had chosen her older sister, Maria, to see Ray before her. Agent Ford was trying with little success to calm her.
"I'm sure it was just the excitement of the moment. She wasn't thinking clearly, Francesca," Ford told her.
"Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing. It's all because of those rugrats, her nipoti preziosi," Francesca said with a loud snort. At Ford's puzzled look, she explained, "Her precious grandchildren. If only…"
"If only what, dear?"
"If I had children, she would love me as much as she loves Maria. Isn't it obvious?"
Ford reached over and gently took her tiny hands in his large ones.
"You've just been waiting for the right man to come along."
"Yeah?" She asked breathlessly as their eyes met and she leaned closer to him. She still wore Ford's over-sized suit jacket which hung open to reveal her bra. It was lacy and black.
"I'm positive," he rasped.
They drew closer together, their lips almost touching…
"Francesca! Where's Diefenbaker?"
oOo
"I want to go next," Meg announced, breaking the silence in the cavernous metal trailer. "When I was a little girl, there was a boy in my class who always teased me about what I was wearing. I mean, everyday he would make a comment about some part of my clothing."
Ben smiled, anticipating what she was going to say next.
"I couldn't stand that boy."
Ben's smiled evaporated as a cheshire grin appeared on Meg's face.
"Ten years later, he was my date for the after-grad party."
"Then why was he rude to you?"
"Ben… you were a boy. In fact, sometimes, I think you still are. When you were standing on that courthouse roof and I was on the street, you semaphored me. You said, 'Red suits you'. The same thing that you said on the train and the same thing that you said … was it yesterday? Anyway, you said it again when we were in the car on the way to look at the CC footage. Was that really only yesterday? It seems like a lifetime," she said with a sigh.
"What's your point, ma'am?"
"My point is that you were teasing me about what I was wearing, just like Tommy Beauchamp did when we were in grade two. You are the boy teasing the girl about what she's wearing and I find that incredibly cute… especially since I'm the girl."
Ben nervously cleared his throat before he said, "I was simply stating the truth, Meg. Red does suit you."
"If you say so, Ben. If you say so."
oOo
"Look how pale he looks, and puffy. His eyes are so swollen, he looks like he went ten rounds in a boxing ring with Joe Frazier. And he's so bloated, he looks like your Uncle Angelo after eating an entire lasagna by himself."
Mrs. Vecchio turned to Maria, whom she had chosen to come with her. If there was a solid rock among her children, it was Maria. Plus, if there were any unfortunate bodily fluids around, the young mother of four wouldn't even flinch.
"Ma…," Maria sighed, "his eyes are swollen because they taped down his eyelids during surgery and the bloating is a side effect of the anesthesia. It'll go away in a couple of days."
"Don't sound like such a show-off, Maria. You took four months of a two year LPN course before you got preg- married, so don't act like some sort of medical genius."
Before Maria could reply in her defense, they were interrupted by a low moan from the bed.
"Raimundo, it's Mamma, Raimundo. Wake up, baby," Mrs. Vecchio cooed to her oldest son while holding one of his hands in hers and absentmindedly fingering her rosary with the other.
Ray lay still against the pure white sheets. His head was wrapped in bandages and wires and tubes ran this way and that, pumping and extracting various fluids from his body.
Ray made a rumbling noise in his throat and then, coughed roughly before opening his eyes to the delight of his mother and sister.
Maria grabbed his other hand. "Oh, Ray. We've been so worried."
Ignoring Maria, Ray addressed his mother.
"Ma… I had the weirdest dream. There was this really polite man, wearing all red and he had a big round hat."
"That's Fraser, Ray. He's your partner," Maria spoke to her big brother as if he was her four year old.
"Who?"
"You know, Benton Fraser, he's a Canadian Mountie, wears red most of the time." He still didn't react, so she added, "He's your best friend, Ray."
oOo
"Tell me more about your grandfather."
It was much warmer in the sleeping bag, but there wasn't much room left over. They had abandoned the the idea of staying back to back. A more efficient way to conserve heat was for Meg to lay with one of her legs behind Ben's, her head on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around her waist. Ben had been employing the same mediation techniques he had suggested early to stay warm. Only now, he was trying to stay focused on anything other than Meg's warm body on his.
"Well, he was bigger than life in more ways than one. George Thatcher was almost two meters tall, but only weighed 100 Kilos. I have precious few pictures of him from his youth, but they all show him in a huge fur hat and ornamental muk-luks, plus his ever present hatchet in his belt. I still have his boots. They were hand stitched by an Inuit woman. Granddad saved her husband's life and she made him the boots."
She edged her face up, but she couldn't actually see Fraser since she was burrowed inside the sleeping bag.
"You know, Ben. It truly was a different world back then. He didn't have a snowmobile, a high-tech tent or any kind of tent, for that matter. He routinely slept in only his down sleeping bag with nothing under him but pine needles, if he could find them."
"Hmmm," rumbled Ben deep in throat.
"Imagine what life was like back then. In the 50's, there were only 4,000 Mounties on the force and they were responsible for patrolling nine million square kilometers. They didn't just police in the traditional sense of the word. He would check the trap lines and make sure everything was legal. He checked on the trappers themselves to see if one of them had died, or gotten lost, or run out of food. Sometimes, he even carried mail to the trappers living out in remote cabins."
Ben smiled to himself. "Sounds heavenly."
"Really? Of course you would say that. You're so much like my grandfather. You know, sometimes, I think you were born in the wrong time."
He reflexively squeezed her closer to him.
"Sometimes, I feel like it."
oOo
"Look darling... we were having a private conversation, do you mind?" admonished Agent Ford, suddenly back in full FBI mode.
Elaine was having none of his macho act.
"This is important and never call me darling." Pushing him out of her way, she spoke directly to Ray's sister, "Francesca, what happened to Diefenbaker? He left the station with you and Ray, but I haven't heard anyone say anything about him."
Francesca's dark eyes grew wide. "Shit," she gasped as her hand automatically came to her mouth. "I'd completely forgotten about him. Yeah, he was in the backseat of the Riviera. Could he still be in the car? Was he thrown from it?"
"Slow down. We'll figure this out. Let's work through it, slowly." Elaine started to guide the other woman as if she was interviewing a witness to a crime. She hoped she was wrong. "Let's start from the beginning. Why did you leave with Ray in the first place?"
They were interrupted by the uniquely irritating squeal of a preteen girl. Krystal Zeppeli, Maria and Tony's oldest child, had been sitting quietly on the sofa, playing Q*Bert on her Radiant Red Nintendo Game Boy until something on the muted television caught her attention.
She jumped to her feet and pointed frantically at the screen.
"That looks just like Diefenbaker!"
Elaine looked up at the mention of the name and caught the tail end of a local news report. She ran over to the television and turned up the volume just in time to hear some inane battering between the two morning hosts sitting in someone's living room, complete with coffee cups on the nearby table. The hosts were a young woman with big hair and even bigger shoulder pads and a balding older man with a horrible comb-over.
Well, Jen, I guess it's so cold the wolves are being driven out of the mountains and into the city.
You could be right, Bob… Except Chicago is a port city and the closest mountain is 650 miles away.
Jab, jab, jab. You just can't resist it, can you Jen?
Elaine reached up and turned off the television. Turning to Krystal, she asked,
"Krissie, what did the report say exactly?"
"I don't know, Elaine. The sound was turned down, but they showed a picture of a wolf who looked just like Diefenbaker and the reporter was standing in front of the zoo."
"Oh, Lord."
oOo
"I would like to tell you something that I've never admitted to anyone before. Can I trust you?"
"Of course."
"Sometimes… well, it seems exceptionally silly to say it outloud. But sometimes... I see ghosts. Actually, it's only one ghost, but still… Do you think I'm crazy?"
Ben looked at Meg incredulously.
"I don't think you're crazy," he replied earnestly.
"Wait until you hear the whole story," Meg said as she boosted herself up on her elbows so she could see his face.
"Please, tell me."
"Well… it started soon after I entered Depot for training. I'd see a red shadow out the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing there. Originally, I thought it was one of the instructors trying to catch the cadets in some sort of improper behavior. But that wasn't it."
"And now, do you see the shadow still?"
"Yes, but I've sort of gotten used to him. In fact, I find great comfort in him."
"Him?"
"Yes. Over the years, I've come to believe that the red shadow is my grandfather wearing his Red Serge." She looked directly in his eyes, studying them and trying to ignore how very, very blue they were. "Still think I'm not crazy?"
"Not in the least. If this … apparition is, indeed, your grandfather, then I believe he is a very considerate ghost."
Meg wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
Ben continued, "You have to understand my unique perspective. I see … and talk … to my father quite regularly. And trust me, it can become quite annoying."
"Oh. Well… that explains a lot, actually."
He proceeded to tell Meg about his annoying ghost of a father while in the corner of the trailer a misty red shadow looked on.
"You really shouldn't be here, you know," Sergeant Robert Fraser said after he materialized beside an elderly, but extremely tall, Mountie. He was well over six feet tall and towered over Fraser who only came up to his shoulders.
Sergeant George Thatcher jumped in surprise, or as much surprise as an elderly ghost could exhibit.
"You can see me?" the sergeant asked skeptically.
"Of course, I can. We're both dead, aren't we?" Sgt Fraser indicated to the older man's dress uniform. "I see they sawed off the back of your Stetson. They desecrated mine too." Robert held up his own stumped hat for inspection.
"Yes," the older man nodded sadly, "if I had known, I would have put it in my will to not cut up any of my uniform parts. It's a disgrace."
"The living… they don't think things through." Fraser, Sr. opined.
The older Mountie looked chargin. "Where are my manners?"
He held out his right hand to other ghostly apparition. "George Thatcher, RCMP, 1930-1965. Forced to retired due to a bum ticker." Thatcher tapped a finger to his chest, indicating the defective organ. "Surprised them all by living another fifteen years."
Sgt Fraser returned his handshake and said, "Bob Fraser, RCMP, 1950-1993, shot dead by my own partner."
"Hell of way to go. At least, you died while still in the service."
"True, true. And my son, there," he indicated to the sleeping bag, "tracked down my killer. That brings some manner of peace to a body."
"That it does," the elderly Thatcher nodded in agreement.
"Now…" Sgt Fraser pitched back and forth on his boots, "back to my previous statement. I don't think it's proper that either of us be in here with them when they're in their natural state."
"But I'm helping," insisted the older of the two.
"Helping? How?"
"By keeping her warm, of course."
"You can do that?" asked Fraser Sr., genuinely impressed.
"Of course. How do you think she survived when she was in here alone? She's a tiny little thing, not enough fat on her to stay alive in this kind of weather." He held his hand out straight, as if checking for rain.
Sgt Fraser thought the old man sounded a bit daff.
"Are you serious? Because I can't affect things in the living world."
Thatcher raised his brow knowingly. "Maybe you just haven't been dead long enough."
Sgt Fraser sighed loudly and looked back at the two young people. "Still… They are both naked." Sgt Fraser was starting to sound exasperated.
Luckily, since they were both apparitions, their raised voices did not trigger the sprinklers.
"That's my granddaughter you're talking about," Thatcher said indignantly.
"And that's my son!" Fraser shouted back. "That's why we shouldn't be here!"
The older man blinked and glanced towards the sleeping bag.
"Oh," he finally said. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"
Both ghosts faded away.
TBC
Author's Note:
I got tired of Tony not having a last name, so I gave him one - Zeppeli.