Disclaimer: I don't own Due South.

Why Can't We Be Friends?

Chapter Six: I See You Standing in it Every Time

Lieutenant Harding Welsh sighed. There had still been no word from Vecchio, or from Huey as to Vecchio's whereabouts. Not only that, but he was still being dependant on the hope that Constable Fraser was with him.

"Hey! Where the hell's my money?"

Welsh's attention was drawn back to the bank. He brought the megaphone to his lips.

"We're trying to find the Mountie and the detective. Just calm down and wait!"

"Well how about if I don't want to wait, huh?"

Welsh frowned. There wasn't much he could do at this juncture. After all, how many Mounties were there in Chicago?

The Lieutenant's eyes widened as something occurred to him. He once again brought the megaphone up.

"They'll be here soon, and so will your money, so just be patient!"

There was no response, which Welsh took as an affirmative. He looked over at one of the uniformed officers.

"Get the Canadian Consulate on the phone."

The officer nodded and left quickly, getting to work. Welsh hoped that this would be successful. If not, they were going to have to be dependant on Huey finding Vecchio.

Welsh didn't like those odds.

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Her hand still shaking, Debra managed to rap her knuckles on the door a few times before once again wondering if this was a good idea.

What if Ray was home?

What if he was angry with her?

What if Fraser wanted to arrest her?

She scowled. That seemed so very Fraser. To want to get rid of her.

The door flew open, and Francesca Vecchio stood in the doorway, grinning ear to ear.

"Well, hello there! You must be Debra, Ray's new lady friend!"

Debra smiled nervously. "Uh… y-yes, that's me."

Frannie's grin became a cautious smile. "Hey, no need to be so nervous. We're not gonna bite. Come in, come in."

"Oh, um… thank you. Thank you very much."

Debra slowly put one foot in the house, gradually followed by the other. She resisted the temptation to take a deep breath of the air in Ray's home, and simply smiled at Francesca, still unsure of how she should act here.

Frannie, meanwhile, was oblivious to her discomfort, having made her way past Debra and into the house.

"Ray's still out working on something or other, so we've got plenty of time to get to know each other before he gets back." She led Debra into the living room, where she sat on the sofa. "Have a seat," she said, patting the space next to her.

Debra nearly tripped up on her way over, fighting the urge to bombard Francesca with questions about Ray.

Just play the part, Debra. Play the part.

"So," Frannie began. "How did you and Ray meet?"

"He…" Debra paused to swallow loudly. "He helped me out of a very bad situation."

"Really?" Francesca cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure that wasn't Fraser? You know, the Mountie with the wolf?"

Debra frowned. "No, it was Ray. Why would you think it was Fraser?"

"Well… you know how Ray is, so I just thought…"

"No, I don't know how Ray is. Why don't you tell me?"

Becoming slightly nervous, Frannie laughed anxiously. "Uh… well… you know… Ray isn't exactly… well, sometimes he can't be very… he's not very caring sometimes, y'know?"

"Yes he is."

"Well, maybe he is with you, but with the rest of us he isn't very-"

"Yes. He. IS."

Frannie paused for a moment. "Uh… yes. I know." She laughed nervously. "I was just kidding, y'know?" She licked her suddenly very dry lips. "I'll uh… just go and see how Ma's doing with the dinner, okay?"

She got and left for the kitchen as quickly as she could without making it seeming like she was running.

Which she very much wanted to at this point.

She burst through the kitchen door and saw her Mother diligently working away at the stove.

"Uh, Ma?"

"Is Raimundo's lady friend here yet, Francesca?"

"Uh, yes Ma, but-"

"Is she nice?"

"Well, she's kinda-"

Her mother turned to face her, sighing. "What fault have you found with this one, Francesca?"

"She's a freaking loon, Ma."

Her Mother gasped. "Francesca! That is an awful thing to say about-"

She froze in mid-sentence as she looked at the doorway behind Francesca. Slowly, Frannie turned, and saw Debra stood in the doorway, looking very threatening with a small knife grasped in her hand.

"If you don't approve of me and Ray, then there's not much I can do. But I can't have you trying to talk him out of seeing me, can I?"

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Fraser smiled as he looked around the city. "What a lovely area."

The detective driving next to him looked over incredulously. "Fraser, this place is worse than where you live, and where you live is bad, believe me."

"As you have repeatedly said, Ray. But I have yet to suffer or seen anyone suffer from repeated criminal acts in my area."

"That's because you're a crazy Mountie!"

"I don't think I'm crazy."

"Of course you don't. All crazy people don't think they're crazy. Otherwise they wouldn't be crazy, just eccentric."

"I see."

"What?"

"Well, I was just wondering where you draw the line between crazy and eccentric."

"Let me see. I like to wear Armani suits and have an obsession with owning mint condition green 1971 Buick Riviera's. I call that eccentric. You, on the other hand, like to jump onto fact moving vehicles."

"Well-"

"And talk to your deaf wolf."

"I-"

"And you taste things you really shouldn't."

"Oh, well, I-"

"And you fold your socks."

"I don't fold my socks."

"Well, all right, I made that last one up. But I can see you doing that."

"You spend your free time building mental images of me folding my socks?"

"No, I was just saying-"

"I have to say Ray, that's more than a little disturbing."

"That isn't what I-"

"I mean, I think about you from time to time, but not usually about what you do at home."

"Look, I didn't-"

"That's behaviour that, in your own words, would probably be defined as 'crazy', am I correct?"

"Fraser, I-"

"I thought so."

Ray's eyes thinned into frustrated slits as he frowned and glared at the road ahead of him. Fraser, a small smile on his lips, looked down at the piece of paper in front of him and nodded to an apartment building on his right.

"That's the address, Ray."

The detective pulled up next to the curb, still sulking about Fraser having beaten him. They got out of the car and made their way around.

"I'm not the one who's crazy."

"All right, Ray."

"Don't patronise me."

"I'm not patronising you, Ray. You said that you weren't insane, and I believed you."

"Stop doing that!"

"What, Ray?"

"Don't give me that. You're patronising me again, I can hear it in your tone of voice."

"As a rule of thumb, I don't generally like to patronise people, Ray. It demeans the other person to do so."

"Then what do you call all those 'thank you kindly's and 'of course you are, sir's?"

"That's just good manners, Ray." Fraser opened the door to the apartment building. "After you, Ray."

The detective grumbled something quietly and made his way through. This building was even more run down than Debra's previous address. Ray was thankful that they had Debra's address and room number on the piece of paper, since the man in the booth seemed to have a layer of slime on him, or at least something that would make him appear shiny and sticky at the same time. Both Ray and Fraser tried to resist shuddering as they saw him.

The two reached Debra's room in silence, and Ray reached for the doorknob. Fraser put a cautioning hand on his.

"Ray, Ray. We can't just go barging in there without a warrant."

The detective rolled his eyes. "You're not serious."

Fraser looked at him blankly.

"Of course you're serious." Putting on a fake smile, Ray deliberately knocked on the door. "Hello? Debra? It's Ray. Could I please come in? I don't want to hurt you; I just want to arrest you." Ray cupped his hand around his ear. "You know what, Fraser? I don't think she's in there. Oh wait…" Ray nodded in faux amazement. "I think I hear breathing in there. Oh, yes. It sounds very much like someone in distress. I guess there's nothing left to do except go in and rescue whoever's inside."

Ray took a step back and kicked the door, sending it flinging open. He stepped in. "Oh. My mistake," he said, smiling at Fraser before letting the grin drop from his face.

Fraser stepped in. "I don't think you were being genuine, Ray."

The detective put on a shocked, appalled expression. "Of course I was, Fraser. I'm insulted that you would… even…"

He trailed off as he saw the wall next to the door. On it were pictures of him doing everything from paperwork, to hanging around at bars, to picking up groceries.

Ray swallowed hard. "This is…"

"Perturbing," Fraser said, as shocked by the display as Ray.

Ray shook himself from his amazed expression. "Well, this couldn't get any weirder." He looked around the wall, and saw something in the corner. "I stand corrected. Hey, Benny."

Fraser slowly looked over at him, still in some small amount of shock from the sheer volume of pictures on the wall.

"Looks like you've got your on section."

The Mountie, slightly wary, made his way over and looked at the photos to which Ray was pointing. There, much in the same manner as had been done to Ray, were photos of Fraser, and even some of Diefenbaker.

"Oh dear."

Ray just nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say or even do at this juncture. His eyes widened even further as he saw more pictures on the far side of the wall, this time of his family.

"Holy…"

He looked up at Fraser. "That's it, we're going back to my home right now."

The Mountie nodded. "Yes. There, ah… doesn't seem to be much else here to find."

The detective led the way as they left the apartment behind.

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Constable Turnbull was confused. True, he was confused quite a lot of the time, but right now he was particularly befuddled. Surely if the bank robbers wanted Constable Fraser and Detective Vecchio to deliver the money, it would make more sense to simply tell them to wait until Constable Fraser and Detective Vecchio were available.

This charade seemed a bit redundant, at least in his eyes. Although, most people didn't really listen to him, especially Inspector Thatcher and Lieutenant Welsh. Not that they weren't perfectly nice people and fine police officers. They just didn't think much of him.

At least, that's what Turnbull thought.

"Sorry to pull you away from your busy schedule," Welsh said to Thatcher, though Turnbull couldn't tell whether he was being ironic or not.

"Oh, it's no problem," Thatcher replied. "We weren't doing anything serious, anyway."

Turnbull cocked an eyebrow at that. "Um, but sir-"

"Not now, Turnbull."

"Yes sir."

Inspector Thatcher obviously didn't want Lieutenant Welsh finding out about her activities in the office. She had been particularly reluctant to disclose the information to Constable Fraser as well, though Turnbull still didn't know why.

And yet, she had been perfectly comfortable performing the action in front of him.

Very confusing.

Welsh looked to Turnbull. "Now, Constable. Do you understand what you're doing?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm to pretend to be Constable Fraser while one of your officers pretends to be Detective Vecchio. We will enter the building and drop off the bag, prompting the bank robbers to release the hostages."

"Well put, Constable."

"Thank you, sir."

"All right, you go and wait over there," the Lieutenant said, pointing, "and we'll signal when to go, all right?"

Turnbull nodded. "Understood, sir."

The Constable made his way over to the indicated spot and waited with the Vecchio look-alike.

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Huey went to pick up the phone, and yelped when he felt something wet and gooey on his hand. He looked over at Diefenbaker, who was showing his fondness for the detective by licking his hand.

"Look, I appreciate that you like me, and it's flattering, really, but could you please leave it alone for a second?"

The wolf seemed to consider this, and with a slightly elongated grunt, turned his attention elsewhere.

Huey paused before picking up the cell phone, making sure that Dief wasn't planning a surprise lick attack of his hand. His fears abated, he picked up the phone and dialled for Elaine.

"Civilian Aid, Chicago 27th Precinct."

"Elaine, it's Huey."

"Hi. What's up?"

"Do you know where Vecchio and Fraser went?"

"They went to a… Debra Wilson's apartment."

"Could you give me the address?"

"Haven't found them yet, huh?"

"I'm getting there. I think they're trying to hide from me."

Huey could hear Elaine's smile on the other end. "Hang on. I'll get that address for you."

The detective yelped again as Diefenbaker suddenly took a liking to his ear.

"Huey? You all right?"

"I'm fine," Huey groaned. "Just some wolf problems, that's all. You got that address?"

"Just give me a minute to look it up."

Huey sighed as he pushed Diefenbaker away from him. He had better find Vecchio and Fraser soon. If not, he was going to be wanted by animal services for grievously injuring a wolf.

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"Not THAT Mountie!"

Welsh breathed a string of none too complimentary curses as he saw Constable Turnbull and the Vecchio look-alike being ejected from the building, the bag with them. Welsh frowned.

"That's a bit odd, isn't it?" Thatcher observed, and Welsh couldn't help but agree.

"You'd think they'd keep the money…"

Thatcher shrugged. "I suppose they just… really, really hate Constable Fraser. And Detective Vecchio, of course."

Welsh looked over his shoulder at the Inspector for a moment. "Of course…" he said, turning his attention to the returning Turnbull.

"Sorry, sir," he gasped, speaking to Welsh. "Sorry, sir," he repeated to Thatcher. He rested his hands on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath.

"It's all right, Turnbull. It's not your fault you're not Fraser."

Welsh and Turnbull looked over at her.

"What?"

They continued to look at her.

"It's not your officer's fault he's not Vecchio either. I wasn't making some kind of solitary remark about Constable Fraser. Why would I? It's preposterous. I'm going to go over here and… check on… that…"

The Inspector made her way into the crowd of police officers and cars, not sure where she was going.

Welsh slowly turned away, looking back at the bank.

Canadians…

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Fraser looked over at Ray.

"Do you really think Debra's gone to your home, Ray?"

"I don't know, Fraser. She's crazy. There's no way to tell what crazy people think."

The Mountie nodded his head sideways in acknowledgement. "Agreed, but simply look at the logic. Here she is, taking photos of you from afar, running from you whenever you get too close to her. This woman is obviously afraid of meeting you, much in the same way a fan feels nervous when they are about to meet their favourite celebrity. Why would she go to your home?"

Ray looked over. "Are you calling me a celebrity?"

Fraser shrugged. "I was saying that to her you are."

"What celebrity would you say I am?"

"I beg your pardon, Ray?"

"Which celebrity?"

"Ray, I don't think we should-"

The detective grinned. "No, no, no, c'mon. Which celebrity do you think I look like?"

Fraser considered the question for a moment. "Do you already have a celebrity in mind, Ray?"

He shrugged in a faux modest manner. "Well, I've got some idea of what I look like…" He looked over at Fraser. "So? Who do you think?"

"Well… that is… um… I, uh…"

"C'mon, Benny. It's just a bit of fun on the drive over to my house. You tell me who I remind you of, and I'll tell you who you remind me of."

"I remind you of a celebrity?"

"Yep. And you aren't gonna find out unless you tell me."

"Well… we seem to be approaching your house now, so…" Fraser reached for the door and attempted to open it while the car was still moving, obviously not wanting to finish this conversation.

"Hey, hey, hey! What are you, crazy?"

"I think we've established that you think I am, Ray."

"Well, get your butt back in the car and tell me what celebrity I remind you of."

"You're not going to like it."

Ray shrugged as he pulled up next to the house. "It's just a bit of fun, Benny. It's not like this is going to influence my outlook on the rest of my life."

Fraser sighed. "All right."

A few seconds later, Ray exploded from the car. Fraser slowly got out from the other side.

"I told you."

Ray paused for a moment, and then whirled on his heel to look at him.

"Danny DeVito?"

Fraser shrugged helplessly.

"Danny DEVITO? How the hell do I look like Danny DeVito?"

"Well, it's not just in the physical, Ray. You bear a resemblance personality wise to him as well."

"'Not just the physical'? I don't look like him at all, Fraser! How the hell do you think I bear any kind of resemblance, passing or not, to Danny DeVito?"

"You said it was just a bit of fun, Ray."

"Yeah, but that's before you said DANNY DEVITO."

"I don't see what's wrong with being compared to Danny DeVito. He's a very talented actor, as well as being a respected member of the community."

Ray was silent with rage.

"Who were you expecting, Ray?"

"I don't know… Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino…"

"Actually, you do bear a resemblance to Al Pacino… more so than Danny DeVito… I wish to change my choice, Ray."

Ray pointed an angry finger at the Mountie. "Don't you do that."

"Do what, Ray?"

"Don't give me that. It's the whole patronising thing again. I hope you don't act like this towards everyone you know," he replied, making his way towards his house.

"No, no, just you, Ray."

"Yeah, that figures- wait, are you saying that you do patronise me?"

"No, I'm saying that I act a certain way towards you that differentiates from how I treat others I know."

"Really?"

"Well, yes. It wouldn't do to treat, say, Elaine in the same way I treat you."

"Oh, it's chauvinistic stuff, is that it?"

"Not at all, Ray. I treat Detective Huey differently, too. And Diefenbaker. And Lieutenant Welsh. And Inspector Thatcher."

Ray smirked as he opened the door to the house and went in. "Yeah, I know how you treat the old Dragon Lady differently."

Fraser cocked his head to the side. "How do you mean, Ray?"

"I mean-"

The two froze as they saw Francesca and Ray's mother tied together, lying on the floor. They looked up at the two frantically, the duct tape on their mouths preventing them from speaking. Ray ran over and immediately ripped off the tape from Frannie's mouth.

"Ow! Watch it!"

"Who did this? Debra?"

"Yeah, and let me tell you, you've got one crazy girlfriend. She was circling us with a knife for about half an hour before she heard you pull up and went upstairs," she said, sounding slightly panicky as she did so.

Ray glanced up the stairway cautiously. Fraser, meanwhile, had successfully untied Ray's mother and somehow removed the duct tape without the painful side-effects. She kissed the Mountie on the cheek gratefully, and he helped her to her feet. She turned to look at Ray.

"Raimundo, I do not want you seeing this Debra anymore."

"No, no, Ma, she's not-" Ray paused and sighed. No sense in panicking them anymore than they already were. "Yes, Ma."

Fraser had already moved past him and was making his way upstairs when he heard the sound of Ray's car starting. The Mountie looked over at Ray, his eyes wide.

"I take it you didn't remove the keys?"

"Yeah, well… Danny DeVito, Fraser, Danny DeVito."

The Mountie nodded. "Understood," he said, before bolting for the door, quickly followed by Ray. The two ran outside in time to see Ray's green mint condition 1971 Buick Riviera speed off down the street. Ray's head hung in defeat.

"Not a third one…"

All Fraser could to was put a supportive hand on his partner's shoulder.

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(A/N: Entering the home stretch here, folks. Only a few more chapters and then it'll all be over… well, for this story, anyway.

I think third Riviera is right. Let's see…

SPOILERS

The first Riviera was blown up by Ray to foil some Canadian mobsters.

The second was blown up by Frank Zuko.

Making this one the third (which also ends up getting blown up by Ray Kowalski in his first appearance, but that's neither here nor there).

END OF SPOILERS

I never thought I'd see the day when Due South was on every day. Looks like it must have been pulling in some good viewing figures over here in the UK, since ITV3 are showing the whole run again. While I do like the later seasons, there was something about the Pilot episodes and the first season that had a certain magic to them. Maybe it was Ray's bad taste in shirts. Maybe it was Paul Haggis. I don't know.

Anyway, review!)