Disclaimer: I don't own Due South.

Why Can't We Be Friends?

Chapter Four: I Called You but You Could Not Look Around

Ray glanced over at Fraser before returning his attention to the road ahead.

"You want to swing by your place and pick up Diefenbaker?"

The Mountie sighed and shook his head. "No, he probably wouldn't come anyway."

"Has he always been like that?"

"What?"

"So… bitchy, I guess."

An almost offended look crossed Fraser's face.

"Are you implying Dief acts like a female, Ray?"

"Well, the symptoms are all there. Confusing behaviour, sulking, brooding…"

Fraser thought for a moment. "I haven't met many female wolves like that, Ray."

"No, not wolves, I-" Ray sighed. "Never mind."

The Mountie paused. "Oh, you were talking about female humans…"

"Yes," Ray sighed. "Yes I was, Benny."

Another pause. "Why would Dief be acting like a woman, Ray?"

"I don't why, Fraser, I was just asking if he's always acted like that."

"Oh." He was silent for a moment. "I see. No, he hasn't. It's only since he came to the city."

"Now how is it that a wolf can fit into the city lifestyle better than a trained Mountie?"

"I wasn't exactly trained for this kind of thing, Ray."

Ray let out a quiet laugh and shook his head, looking out of the window absent-mindedly as he drove.

"Ray."

The detective looked over at Fraser. "Yeah?"

"This Debra Wilson. Is she the cause of your earlier… aggressiveness?"

Ray grinned. "I knew it bothered you."

"Well, I never said it didn't, Ray. I merely decided that it was something that you had no desire to discuss."

"Which I didn't."

"Which you didn't, yes."

"So," Ray began, pulling up outside the address that Elaine had earlier supplied them with. "You were wondering why I was so angry, but when I tried to tell you, you go bounding out of the car after some punk with a gun. Then you act like you don't care, and then you ask me whether Debra Wilson was the cause of my…"

"Earlier aggressiveness," Fraser supplied, nimbly placing his Stetson on his head as he made his way around the parked car. "And yes, Ray, that would seem to summarise the events up to this point."

Ray just nodded and entered the building, and Fraser frowned.

"Ray?"

"Yes, Benny?"

"Does Debra Wilson have anything to do with your earlier aggressiveness?"

Ray grinned. "Nope." As Fraser's puzzled and slightly irked frown deepened, Ray made his way over to the front desk, where an older man was struggling to balance his glasses on his nose.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly.

Ray flashed his badge, and the man struggled to see it. "Yeah, hi. Detective Ray Vecchio. Do you have a Debra Wilson living here?"

The man paused, and then turned, opening a book.

"Debra Wilson, Debra Wilson…" his finger trailed down a list of names. "Ah. Yep, we used to have a Debra Wilson, but she suddenly upped and left. After paying her rent, of course. I'm a strict housekeeper, you know."

Fraser stepped forward, smiling politely. "I'm sure you are, sir. May we have the keys to Ms Wilson's apartment?"

"It's police business," Ray added.

The old man nodded, and reached under the counter. Just as he was handing them to Ray, he paused and looked over at Fraser.

"You're a Mountie, aren't you?"

"Why, I am sir, yes."

"Why are you here?"

"Well, I first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's-"

"Benny, stop. Let's just go," Ray interrupted, snatching the keys from the old man and making his way towards the elevator.

"Ah. Yes. Right away, Ray." He turned to the old man. "Thank you kindly."

Ray pushed the call button for the elevator, letting out a groan as nothing happened. He looked up at the floor numbers, and frowned as he realised none of the numbers were lit up.

"The elevator's broken. You'll have to use the stairs," the old man said from the desk.

Ray sighed. "What floor was she on?"

"Twenty."

"Twenty? Oh, that's just…"

Fraser made his way towards the stairs. "It's just walking, Ray."

The detective sighed and followed. "Oh, yeah, that's easy for you to say. You probably walked over three mountains and through a blinding snow blizzard every day to get to school as a kid, right?"

"Actually, I was home educated, Ray."

"Okay, okay. But I bet you walked over three mountains and through a blinding snow blizzard to get to the local tribal village or town or whatever, right?"

"No, I rode the bus."

"Really? No bitter fight with the elements? No battle against nature? No wrestling with packs of wolves and bears?"

"Actually, Ray, one doesn't usually wrestle wolves."

"Why? Too small?"

"That, and they generally attack at the same time."

"What, bears come at you one at a time?"

"Well, no, Ray. Bears rarely move together in packs."

"Oh, of course not."

Ray looked up the staircase and blew out a long breath. He looked over at Fraser, who wasn't even breathing heavily yet.

"You know, I carried you through the wilderness for God knows how long."

Fraser cast a curious look in Ray's direction. "Are saying you want me to carry you, Ray?"

"No, I'd just like to think you'd offer, is all."

"But why would I offer if I knew you were going to say no?"

"It's not about the question, Fraser; it's about the gesture of kindness and friendship that the question represents."

"That was very eloquent, Ray."

"Thank you, Benny."

"So… you don't want me to carry you."

"No."

"But you'd like for me to ask you anyway."

"Exactly."

Fraser paused. "I see."

Ray looked over at him. "Well?"

"I'm simply struggling to see why, Ray. I would of course be willing to carry you if such a necessity arose, but the situation now is vastly different to the situation when you carried me."

"Well, maybe it is necessary."

Fraser looked over at him for a moment. "Oh. Very well." He knelt forward and moved his arm forward to wrap it around Ray's waist, aiming to hoist the detective over his shoulder.

"Hey! Hey! Whoa! Stop!"

The Mountie quickly stood upright. "Is something wrong, Ray?"

"Yes, there's something wrong! You just tried to carry me up some stairs!"

"Well, you told me to, Ray."

"No, I asked you to ask me if I needed carrying. I didn't tell you to just pick me up!"

Fraser frowned. "I'm afraid I'm becoming slightly confused, Ray. Why would you want me to ask you if I should carry you up the stairs if you had no intention of actually being carried up the stairs?"

"Because I carried you!" Ray yelled, exasperated. He sighed. "Never mind, Fraser. Let's just go, okay?"

"Should I carry you?"

"No! No, you should not!"

"Oh. Very well."

The Mountie passed him and continued up the stairs, a small smile growing on his face. Ray's eyes widened into a glare as he quickly followed his friend up the stairs.

"Hey! Are you messing with me?"

"No, Ray."

"You are messing with me!"

"No I'm not."

"Oh, you so are! Look, you're smiling."

"How can you tell whether I'm smiling, Ray? You're behind me."

"So you admit you were smiling."

"Why would I be smiling, Ray?"

"Because you're messing with me!"

"Oh, really, Ray. Doesn't that sound the least bit childish to you?"

"Exactly! So you should stop being so - in your words, by the way - childish, and just admit you were messing with me?"

"What makes you assume I was messing with you?"

"Because you were smiling!"

"We've had this discussion, Ray. You can't tell whether I'm smiling or not."

"Don't take that amused tone with me. Hey! You're smiling now, aren't you?"

"No, Ray."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door creaked open forebodingly, and Ray resisted the shiver rolling down his spine.

"Nice place," he muttered, cautiously putting one foot into the apartment. He ducked his head forward to look around the open door, and then pulled his other leg into the room. His nose wrinkled from the indeterminate odour in the room.

"Indeed," Fraser nodded. He sniffed the air. "Hm. It's…" he paused as he thought on it.

"Crap, Benny. The word you're looking for is 'crap'. This place smells like crap. It's just a curse word like any other. You've been living here long enough to pick this up by now."

"Oh, I know what it smells like, Ray. I was merely commenting that the furniture arrangement was very… Spartan."

"What furniture arrangement?" Ray said, gesturing around the room. "There's nothing in here!"

"Precisely, Ray."

Ray walked to the window and looked out over the street. Simply seeing the Riv from any angle was beautiful, but there was something about seeing it parked with all of the other cars on the street that made it stand out.

"Hey, Benny. Y'know, this apartment kinda reminds me of your place."

Fraser opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it again. "I see."

"Well, obviously without the whole 'smells like crap' thing. Although the mutt does tend to stink up the place."

"Really, Ray. If you're going to be insulting to Dief, at least do it to his face."

Ray smiled. "Not planning on ratting me out, are you Benny?"

"If he asks, I won't lie. It's out of my hands."

The detective's smile remained as he shook his head, making his way into the next room. This one was just as bare as the main room, except for a stack of magazines and some film canisters thrown haphazardly in the corner of the room. Cocking a curious eyebrow, Ray checked over his shoulder to see what Fraser was doing.

The brown clad Mountie was inspecting the room intensely, rubber gloves at the ready. As Fraser made his way into the bathroom, he paused, obviously taken aback by the odour that came from within. Ray grinned and made his way into the room and over to the magazines.

Most were thin, annoying catalogues of useless gadgets and strange looking devices, but a few caught his eye.

"Find anything?"

Ray let out a high pitched yelp as he nearly jumped out his skin. His hand on his beating chest, he turned to glare at Fraser, who seemed quite surprised at the outburst himself.

"Don't do that! You don't just sneak up on people and talk in their ear, Fraser!"

"I didn't 'sneak' Ray, I was merely walking quietly."

"That's called sneaking, Fraser, and that's what you were doing."

"Well, it certainly wasn't my intention. I apologise."

Ray nodded. "Okay then," he said, his eyes lingering warily on the Mountie as he turned his head back to the pile of magazines.

"What are they?"

"Most of them are just catalogues for camping stuff and weird… things," he said, frowning at a picture of what looked like a toilet brush, but in fact had something to do with VCR's.

Fraser nodded at the photo canister. "And that?"

"I haven't looked at it yet."

The Mountie nodded and reached down with a rubber glove clad hand. He looked inside the lidless canister, closing one eye to get a more precise look.

"It's empty."

Ray nodded absent-mindedly, continuing to leaf through the magazines. He paused as he came across something that caught his eye. He turned to Fraser.

"Hey, Benny. What's the name printed on the label on that thing?"

Fraser looked at the canister. "'Joe's Photo Shack'."

Ray nodded as he looked at the leaflet in front of him. "Same place. Let's check it out." Putting his hands on his knees, Ray pushed himself up, pocketing the leaflet in his Armani coat as he went. He continued through the front doors and towards the stairs.

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray."

Ray whirled on his heel, glaring at the Mountie. "What, Fraser? What?"

"You forgot to lock the door."

Ray paused. "Oh."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The doors flew open as Ray pushed them out.

"…just saying that you don't have to say my name over and over again like that. I heard you the first time. I mean, God forbid you do that to someone who actually has a short fuse."

"But you didn't acknowledge me at all, Ray. I simply thought you didn't hear me."

"Trust me, Benny; I hear every word you say."

"Oh. Thank you, Ray."

"Okay, now this 'Joe's' place is about five minutes away, so we can-" Ray's words were caught in his throat when he saw something in the back seat of his car. Fraser followed his gaze.

"Oh dear."

Inside the car was a photo of Ray from when he had apprehended the convenience store thief, a rose beside it. Fraser quickly looked up and down the street, and Ray soon joined him in his search. Looking over to his right, Ray froze as he spotted a wavy mass of blonde hair disappear around the street corner.

"Hey!" he yelled, breaking into a run, his speed surprising Fraser. The Mountie quickly adapted to the shock and was rapidly in pursuit.

Ray reached into his jacket to pull out his gun, but then thought better of it. What if it wasn't Debra? Welsh called him into his office enough without him waving a gun in some innocent woman's face. Not to mention how long Fraser would hold it over his head. Though not in an obvious way, as Huey would. The perfectionist Mountie would be able to communicate simply with a glance or an 'Hm' noise.

Ray turned the corner, and quickly ground to a halt as he hastened to spot the blonde hair in the crowd before him. He heard Fraser stop next to him.

"There," he said instantly, pointing at a stairway leading to a raised train platform. Before he even gave Ray a chance to reply, he was off, weaving through the crowded sidewalk, uttering 'excuse me's and 'pardon me's to everyone he came across.

Ray rolled his eyes, sighed, and followed.

Fraser charged onto the steps, taking them three at a time as he bounded up towards the platform. He quickly glanced around to check for the whereabouts of Ray and Diefenbaker, and felt a brief pang of disappointment as he remembered Dief wasn't there with him, by his side.

Keeping his focus, Fraser's attention was attracted to a blonde haired woman getting onto a train. The Mountie ran forward, but the doors closed before he could reach the train. Slowly and surely, the sleek locomotive began to move.

Fraser looked up and down the train for some kind of foothold or handgrip for him to latch on to, and found one in the form of a bar at the far end of the train, which was fast approaching him. Steadying himself, he prepared to grab the bar as it went by.

"Fraser!"

He decided to pay no mind to Ray, at least for the moment.

"Hey, Fraser! I- what are you doing?"

"I was going to grab on to that bar there," he said, pointing.

"Benny, you can't just go grabbing random parts of a train. Now, I know you have this fun obsession with jumping on, grabbing onto or otherwise latching onto dangerously fast moving vehicles, but this is just stupid."

"I don't see how this is stupid, Ray. The train hasn't reached sufficient speeds as to injure me, as long as I grab on at the right time and use the correct amount of counterforce."

The detective sighed. "All right…" he said, putting up his hands in mock surrender. "How are we going to do this?"

"We, Ray?"

"Yeah. This is my stalker, after all."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Ray."

"Why?"

"Because I don't have time to teach you the correct way to latch on to a fast moving mass."

"'A fast moving mass'? Who talks like that?"

"I don't know what you mean. And we don't have time to discuss this, since the bar is-"

The bar passed by, and Fraser quickly reached out. Unfortunately, Ray reached out at the same moment, the two becoming entangled into one another before falling backwards onto the platform. Ray winced as he heard something pop in his neck.

"I thought you said it wouldn't hurt…"

"That was when it was just me grabbing on to the train."

"Oh, so I can't do these crazy Mountie things, is that it?" Ray paused. "Actually, I'm okay with that. Forget I said anything."

Fraser nodded, his Stetson having fallen off and resting behind his head like a pillow. "Understood."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lieutenant Welsh squinted as the sun glared in his eyes, reflected off the white of the multiple squad cars parked outside the bank. He made his way over to Huey, who was leaning on the top of his car.

"What's the situation, detective?"

Huey looked over at him. "Oh, bags of fun. This guy wants to speak to someone official, and apparently I'm not good enough, so…"

The detective handed over the loudspeaker, which Welsh took with a forced smile. "Thank you, detective."

He brought the loudspeaker to his lips and pulled the trigger. "This is Lieutenant Welsh of the Chicago Police Department. I want to speak to whoever's in charge."

After a brief pause, a terrified bank clerk appeared in the window.

"He s-says that if you try a-anything, he'll… kill m-me."

Welsh cocked an eyebrow. "Whoever you are, you can come out. Let's talk face to face."

The bank clerk's eyes shifted to his left briefly, his entire body shaking with fear.

"He says he's n-not stupid."

Welsh sighed and closed his eyes. "All right. What do you want?"

"He says that he wants one million dollars in cash, because the safe's securely locked."

"Right. And when-"

"Wait, t-there's more. He says it wants it delivered by-" He paused as he looked to his left at the criminal, obviously confused.

"Just say it, you moron!" A voice came, and the bank clerk seemed to jump three times his height into the air.

"He wants it d-delivered by the… M-Mountie and his cop friend."

Welsh closed his eyes and let his head hang. He turned to Huey. "Where're Vecchio and the Constable?"

"They're off looking into another case," he replied, feeling the same sense of impending doom as Welsh.

"Wonderful." He pointed at Huey. "Go and find them, and get them back here."

"Got it," the detective replied, nodding tersely and quickly hopping into his car, grateful for something to do.

Welsh let out another heavy sigh as he brought the loudspeaker to his lips once again. Somehow he knew that today was going to be a long day.

And somehow he knew that Vecchio would be the cause of it all.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A/N: Well, that's a little bit later than usual, so sorry for that. Not much more to say, except... review!)