Rage: The Thunder Rolls

By Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: I do not own Due South or any of its characters.

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It was turning into a long day. Every time either Turnbull or Ovitz looked at her, she cringed. She almost believed that there was a difference in the way they acted towards her, though she knew that was unlikely. Turnbull was too dim to know anything that wasn't told to him outright and Ovitz--well, if Ovitz saw weakness, he attacked it, and not very subtly either. So, Meg kept telling herself that she was paranoid. No one else knew of her weakness. That at least was a relief.

Tiredly, she ran fingers over her temples. It was hard being here, almost too hard. She didn't feel like the self sufficient, rock solid Inspector. Instead, she felt like a broken woman who twitched in fear at every sound. Angrily, she grit her teeth. If she had anything to say about it, no one would know of her shame. She would pretend to be the woman deserving of their respect that she had been mere days ago.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Meg didn't know if it frightened her or if it relieved her. Carefully, she put on her 'Inspector face'. It wasn't always easy to maintain such a face--like when she wanted to take Fraser into her arms and kiss him for finding her mother's brooch, or when she wanted to thank him profusely for rescuing her from the clutches of Henri Cloutier--and now would be one of the hardest times she'd ever experienced.

"Yes?"

Fraser came in, his hat in his hands. "Ma'am?"

"What is it, Fraser?"

She thought he'd be gone with that Vecchio friend of his for at least several hours. What was he doing back at the Consulate?

Turnbull she could keep things from and Ovitz she could lie to, but Fraser's clear eyed gaze seemed to see through everything. He seemed to accept her story that morning but every time he looked into her face, there was a chance...

Hold on to your mask, Meg, she told herself firmly.

"I was just wondering how you were feeling, sir. First days back after being sick can be somewhat of a drain."

Meg felt the color go from her face as she peered at him. She cleared her throat.

If I hadn't been drinking...I will never drink again. Ever.

"I think I'll live, Fraser. Aren't you supposed to be out saving Chicago or something?"

"Yes, sir," he replied smoothly, ignoring her sarcasm. "Detective Vecchio is waiting for me. I just forgot my..."

"Nevermind, Fraser."

What was going on behind those eyes of his? His mask was easily as good as hers, and probably hid a lot more. In a way, she felt a certain kinship with Fraser. Not only did they share all those things she had pointed out on the train, they also shared a need to keep their thoughts and feelings private. Each of them donned a protective face when they got up in the morning, though Fraser seemed to reach through his to touch people more easily than she could. Someday, maybe he would show her what lay beneath his 'Mountie face'. Who knew, she might even let him see under hers--if there was anything left.

"You are dismissed," she added when he showed no signs of moving. Did he look at her a little more closely than usual?

"Yes, sir." With a slight nod, he was gone from her office and, in a sudden perversity, Meg wished he would come back and... And what, Meg? she asked herself harshly. Comfort you? Oh, yeah. That would be great--watching the respect he has for you turn to pity. That's all you need. At least this way you can pretend to deserve his respect. Are you prepared to accept his pity?

She knew she was not. It would just hurt way too much. She just hoped her mask was good enough to keep it from him.

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Fraser and Ray were driving in the Riv after a most satisfying meal when the call came from Elaine. The feeling of wrongness Fraser had experienced earlier had come back to him during the meal and he was absently trying to place it. It was forgotten again as soon as he heard Elaine's voice.

"I've found what you were looking for."

"What did you find, Elaine?"

"Is Fraser there?"

"Yes, Elaine. Now, what did you find?"

"Well." There was a shuffling of papers. "There are only two stores in Chicago that sell this pen. They go for $200 a pop. One is Stationary Blues at 28 SouthWest and the other is Bells, Bows, and Ribbons at 57 Park. Both of them have none in stock. They order them on demand."

Ray and Fraser shared a look and the latter said, "Thank you, kindly, Elaine."

"No problem, Fraser."

"Now, Ray, all we have to do is find out who bought one of these pens from either of these stores in the past six months."

"Six months? Why six months?"

"This is a relatively new style of pen, made in Germany. Though they've been in Canada for the past year, they've only been imported to the United States for the past six months."

"Why would Canada get them first?"

"Well, believe it or not, Ray, there are some things that Canada imports that the United States does not, some examples are Kinder Surprise Eggs and chocolate Smarties."

"Yeah, okay Fraser, I get it. What were those addresses again?"

"28 South West Street and 57 Park Street."

Ray suddenly realized he was going the wrong way. Without a word to Fraser, he turned the wheel savagely, throwing his partner against the door. Fraser didn't even want to think about how many laws had just been broken, but Ray was Ray.

The first store they went to was Stationary Blues, where they discovered that both sales of the pen had been to women. Since the cologne Fraser had smelled was a man's fragrance, it was doubtful either of them was the killer. They took down their names and descriptions anyway, on the off chance one of them was the culprit, and headed to Bells, Bows, and Ribbons. There, they had more luck--four pen buyers. Three of these were men, and two were taller than six feet. Fraser and Ray took down their names--Tom Norton and Max Riker--sketchy descriptions and addresses. Their money was apparently good enough for the store, but not enough to keep the clerk's lips closed. Fraser and Ray didn't really mind.

"Now, what?" Ray asked as they got back in the car. "Interview the suspects?"

Fraser thought a moment and shook his head. "I'd like to look at the body, Ray. It will give me more information than the photographs--I should be able to pin point the man's height and weight more accurately."

"How?"

"The angle of the bruises," Fraser answered, giving a thoughtful frown.

Something...something...He reached for the thought that was forming in his mind, but it slipped away like water through his fingers.

"You all right, Fraser?"

"Just thinking."

Ray accepted this and started the car. Fraser gave a mental shrug. If it was important, the thought would come back to him.

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Ray had already seen the body. He had stared at her pretty young face and thought he must be getting old. Instead of finding her desirable, despite the multitude of bruises at her throat and the few scattered abrasions on her skin, he couldn't help seeing a dead child. They knew her to be eighteen, but to Ray she looked about twelve.

Since he had seen all he wanted to the first time, he hung back, letting Fraser clinically examine the body. The Mountie made several 'hmn' and 'Ah' sounds to himself. It never ceased to amaze Ray how something as simple as a piece of fabric could tell Fraser everything he wanted to know about a victim or a perp. Ray had a sneaking suspicion that Benny was a genius but he kept that to himself. It wouldn't do to give him a swelled head. Look what happened the last time! Firmly, Ray turned his mind from thoughts of being strapped to a bomb.

Fraser was licking the fingers of the body. Ray shuddered all over, wondering how Benny could taste things that were so repulsive. If that's what it took to be a genius, Ray would stay a dim wit, thank you.

Finally, Fraser was done looking at the dead hooker. He thanked the medical examiner politely before leading Ray out of the morgue.

"Did you learn anything?" the detective asked when the Mountie didn't volunteer any information.

"Yes, Ray. Several things. They had some red wine and pasta early in the evening. The lack of bruises on the rest of the body suggests that she was comfortable with him and was taken by surprise. The pen punctured the flesh of her stomach, and quite severely, but I don't think it was done purposely."

Ray listened, nodding, as they walked towards his desk.

"And, obviously, looking at the bruises on the body..." Suddenly, the thoughtful look on Benny's face turned to something else. His skin went completely white, and if he'd been a woman, Ray would have reached out to catch him. His voice came out in a strangled whisper as he repeated, "...the bruises on the body..."

Ray's eyes went over his best friend's face. Something had either scared the hell out of him or shocked the breath out of his body.

"Are you all right?" he asked in concern.

Fraser wasn't paying any attention to him. Instead, he was talking to himself. "To have bruises like that, someone would have to fall repeatedly, or..."

"Benny, what are you talking about? The woman was strangled."

Puzzlement made the detective want to shake the Mountie. Maybe Benny was finally losing it. Had he licked one to many disgusting substances?

The far away look that had come to Fraser's face when the color drained from it slipped away, and he focused on Ray once more. He looked almost surprised to see the detective there, even though he'd been talking to him moments before. The paleness of his face was slowly receding and a faint flush was staining his cheeks in its place.

There was a tightness in his voice as he said, "I have to go, Ray."

"Now? We haven't even captured the killer yet..." Ray's exasperated voice trailed off as he finally looked into his friend's eyes.

Ray's breath caught as he saw something hard and cold there, something he had never seen there before. And there was something else, something that caused the skin along the detective's backbone to prickle. A storm was growing there, rolling and burning. He could almost hear thunder, see lightening. Was that the beginning of rage? It was a look so foreign to Benny's eyes that he couldn't be certain. All he knew was that it was something more dangerous than he could even imagine. What exactly happened when a person who suppressed his emotions cracked?

In fascination, he heard Benny say calmly, "Yes, Ray. You must excuse me. I'm confident that you can catch the assailant on your own."

As Ray, still reeling, watched Fraser walk away, he remembered the feeling that had seared through him when he had come upon that snake attacking his sister. And he remembered what happened afterward.

With this memory, a stone-like certainty settled in his gut. Fraser was going to kill somebody.