Frannie's Lament

by Tanya Reed

I just realized that this story hasn't been published anywhere on the web; it's only been circulated on a mailing list, so it will probably be new to you. It may take longer to put up than the others because, besides the first two or three chapters, it's still only in handwritten form.

Thanks to everyone who's survived the turbulant first chapter and has decided to maybe check out the second.

Disclaimer: Due South still isn't mine, darnit!

P.S. The first scene, the one with Ray and Ma, is the one I dreamed so long ago that started this whole thing.

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One Year Later

Ray Vecchio entered his kitchen early that morning, a yawn distorting his face. He had recently changed out of his pajamas but he still had a rumpled, sleepy look.

Running a hand over his face, he made his way to the coffee maker, reflecting on how quiet the house was. Since Maria and Tony had moved over a month before, the laughter and joy seemed to have seeped out after them. Where once children would have been fighting him for the counter or the bathroom, there was now only empty, lonely space.

A sigh escaped him as he automatically plunked two pieces of bread into the toaster. The thought of the other reason his house was so lifeless came back to haunt him as it had ever day for the past year.

Frannie. Even now, Ray could hardly believe that she was gone. Without her sparkle, his house felt like some sort of discarded Christmas tree.

His chest tightened as his mind went to his days as Armando Langoustini. The whole time only three thrings had gotten him through--Fraser's friendship, his Ma's love, and Frannie's smile. He used to stay up nights thinking about them as children, and the memories of some of their pranks were the only things that could make him smile. He had been so homesick then, and all he dreamed about was coming home. When he did come home, it was only for a couple of weeks before taking off to Florida with that witch in angel's clothing. After two months, he was back home again and Frannie had been there to welcome him with open arms and a smile--and no 'I told you sos', which would have been his first words to her. Being away from Frannie had taught him to both miss and appreciate her, and he was not quite through lavishing her with all the love and attention he should have been giving her her whole life when...

An image came into Ray's mind, so strong it overwhelmed him. He cringed as he saw the car explode as he did in his dreams at night. It had taken only a second to extinguish the brightest light in his life.

Ray started eating his toast, though it tasted like gravel, and pushed the thoughts of his sister's killer still being free from his mind. Behind him, he heard the only other occupant of the house bustle into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Raymundo," she said cheerily, going to the refrigerator.

Ray turned and watched her, the knot in his stomach tightening. "Good morning, Ma."

She turned around smiling, eggs in her hands. "Why such a sad face, Caro? It's a beautiful day. I mean, just look at that sun. And the children are supposed to come over to play today. We're going for a walk in the park. The sun should make you happy...Besides, today could be the day."

Suddenly, Ray felt very tired. Every day it was the same thing. His Ma would get up and tell him that maybe it would be today. For some reason, she just didn't seem to understand that Frannie wasn't coming home. Ever.

"It won't be today, Ma." He took a gulp of his coffee to stop his shaking hands.

"You never know. It might be."

"She's not coming."

"Sure she will, and you'll have to apologize for what you're thinking."

"No." Anger welled up in Ray. He could not stand the denial anymore. "Frannie's not coming home. You have to face it."

"She will come home to us, and she will be happy and brown from the sun or full of facts about the old country. When she comes back from vacation, you will see..."

Unable to deal with his anger and lack of sleep, Ray snapped, "Frannie's not on vacation, Ma, and you know it! Frannie's dead. Dead."

Ma shook her head sadly. "My Frannie is not dead. She is still out there. Somewhere."

Seeing the look on his mother's face, Ray's anger quickly turned to pity. "All right, Ma. I'm sorry. Maybe it will be today. Call me if she comes."

Their argument always ended like this because Ray couldn't stand to break his mother's heart. Feeling awful, but comfortable with the familiarity of the feeling, Ray left the rest of his toast and coffee, strapped on his gun, and left for work.

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Both Rays were waiting for him when he arrived at the station. Fraser studied them as he approached their desks. Kowalski was leaned back, doing some sort of balancing act with his chair and chewing a wad of gum like it was cud. Vecchio was slumped over, his head leaning on his left hand, a pencil tapping in his right. They both looked exhausted, with black rings around their eyes and an air of defeat around their bodies. He knew what that must mean--another dead end.

"Good morning, Ray. Ray." He nodded at each of them. Kowalski dropped his chair with a bang, pushing a hand through his unruly hair.

"Mornin', Frase," he answered with forced cheerfulness. "It's been a little slow, so we were pursuing that new lead." He gestured towards Vecchio, who sat up straighter.

Even though Ben could tell the answer, he asked, "Anything?"

"No, nothing. It's as if the guy who killed Frannie doesn't even exist."

"I been tellin' him not to stress it. We'll find him--we've got to," Kowalski informed Fraser, who agreed.

"I'm sure you're right, Ray."

At their words, Vecchio gave a disgusted snort and got up, slamming his chair backwards onto the floor. Kowalski jumped, nearly tumbling from his chair, and Ben winced as the sound jangled along his nerves. Concern made him want to speak soothing words, but he knew nothing he could say would do any good.

"This is crazy. My sister's dead, and her murderer is out there, free as a bird."

Kowalski, used to his partner's frequent outbursts, said softly, "Calm down, man. We're all still angry about the fact that Frannie's case was closed unsolved. Bein' upset ain't going to bring her back."

"Upset? Of course, I'm upset!" He violently punched the filing cabinet beside him, turning his back on his friends. "I must have arrested hundreds of criminals--I went undercover with the mob and survived for Christ's sake--and I can't even find the bastard who murdered my sister!"

Silence followed this declaration as every eye in the busy squadroom turned in his direction. Kowalski glared at the gawkers, forcing them to look away. Ben came forward and gently placed his hand on Vecchio's arm.

"I feel so helpless, Benny."

Fraser nodded in understanding, letting his own helplessness show in his face for a moment. He understood what Ray was going through more than he could put into words. It was almost inconcievable to him that he had been searching for a criminal for almost a year and come up with nothing. The guilt of having failed not only Ray but Francesca weighed heavily on him. She had been a sister to him throughout all the both hard and joyful times he had experienced since moving to Chicago. Her death had ripped a ragged chunk out of his soul, and he would do anything to catch the monster who took her life.

A glint came to Kowalski's eyes, and he said fiercely, "Oh, we'll find him, buddy, and when we do..."

Fraser knew that Kowalski cared for Frannie as much as he did, first as a sister and then as something considerably more. He also knew that Ray had been working up the courage to tell her right before her life was so cruelly cut short. Now, he would never get the chance.

"Vecchio! Kowalski!" came a bellow from the direction of Welsh's office. Vecchio turned and the two Rays shared a look. He did not sound pleased, and all three men wondered what they had done this time.

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"A vacation. He wants us to take a vacation!" Vecchio was still complaining when Kowalski's GTO stopped in front of the Consulate a half hour later.

Kowalski, who was driving, grunted in agreement. "He says we're working too hard. Yeah, right. More like he thinks we're harpin' on the Frannie thing."

"How can he forbid us to work on it? Who does he think he is, God?"

"I'm sure if you contemplate his situation, you will see that it must seem to him as if we are spending too much of our working time on a closed case," Ben said from the back seat. "He does have a point."

He said the words, but he didn't believe them. Twenty four hours a day would not be too much time to spend on trying to find his friend's killer.

"I'd like to see his reaction if it was his sister."

"And how would that affect our vacation time?" Kowalski asked.

Ben looked at Vecchio's drawn and tired face. "Maybe he is concerned for our well being."

Then he went to get out of the car, hesitating before turning the handle. "Will you be all right, Ray?"

Vecchio waved a hand in an impatient gesture. "Go to work, Benny. Ray and I will go for a coffee or something. I might even pay for his Smarties."

Ben then looked to Kowalski, who gave him a little nod. Satisfied that his friends would be okay, he got out of the car and approached the Consulate. Behind him, he could hear the tires of the GTO squeal as Ray drove away.

The man standing sentry was a young red head with an abundance of freckles. Ben felt a twinge of sadness at seeing him, admitting to himself that he actually missed Turnbull. It had only been a few months since Renfield had left the force to enter politics in his native Nova Scotia, and the Consulate was quiet without him. It was not that this new constable was incompetant. In fact, he was likeable and efficient. He just didn't seem to have the joy of life that Fraser didn't even realize that he admired in Turnbull.

Inside the Consulate, Ben passed his superior officer's door and his sense of sadness deepened. Things were changing and he didn't much like change. One by one, the people he cared about were disappearing form his life, leaving empty spots inside of him. First the Inspector, then Francesca, and now Turnbull. It was as if the heavens were playing some joke on him--now that he had finally given in and opened himself to people, they were being brutally ripped away from him.

As he headed towards his office, a voice stopped him and he turned.

"Benton?"

"Yes, sir?"

Some of Ben's sadness melted away as he regarded Sargeant Frobisher. Not everyone was being stolen from his life. He had the Rays, and he had the man who had been even closer than his own father to guide his footsteps and share his duties. He didn't know why he had been so lucky as to have Buck appointed as head of the Consulate, but he had a feeling Inspector Thatcher had something to do with it. The Sargeant had spoken warmly of a meeting they had before his arrival, though he wouldn't say what was said.

"I need to talk to you a minute. Would you come into my office?"

"Certainly, sir."

He followed Buck inside, closing the door because he knew Dan was off sentry in about five

minutes. Buck moved slowly, limping slightly, around the desk to sit down. He waited until Ben had come to rest in front of it, steepling his fingers and looking up with youthful but sharp blue eyes.

"Benton, do you know who Andrew Wilson is?"

Running a thumb over his eyebrow, he answered in puzzlement, "No, I don't believe I do, sir."

"He was a Canadian diplomat--a great Canadian diplomat."

"Was?"

"Yes. He died yesterday."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't be. I didn't know him." Buck pushed his comment aside. "The important thing is they're looking for Mounties to serve as pall bearers. You have been chosen."

"Me?" Ben could hardly keep his surprise from showing.

"Yes. This is a great honour, Benton."

Fraser nodded, studying his old friend's face and eyes. He saw concern there, though Buck was trying to hide it. Like Welsh, the sargeant must think that they had been working too hard on a closed case.

"When do I leave for Canada, sir?"

"No, not Canada, son. England. Wilson died while visiting our queen."

"England?" This time his surprise did show. "How long will I be there?"

"About a week. Good luck. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

Leaving Buck's office, Ben felt both a sense of relief and a sense of dread. Both feelings were emenating from the same source; on one hand he welcomed the time away from Frannie's case, but on the other he was afraid something would be missed while he was away. He remembered then that his friends were also going to be away from their desks and wondered if this was coincidence. Either way, it was an easy decision to ask for their accompaniment, and maybe together they could finally let Frannie's memory rest in peace.

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Ben's first impression of England when they touched down nearly twenty-four hours later was that its airports were insane. The noise had been almost deafening, with people running back and forth like they were in some sort of maze. Vecchio had insisted on navigating through the busy airport, claiming that Kowalski couldn't even find his glasses most of the time. It turned out that his sense of direction wasn't much better as they were lost at least three times before Ben gratefully saw the man in black holding a sign that said "Fraser".

The man turned out to be the chauffeur of someone called Scott Lawrence. Lawrence was a friend of Wilson's and, as such, had volunteered to pick up the Mountie and his companions at the airport. The chauffeur was confident, navigating the same halls they had such trouble with with ease and grace. In no time at all, he had them ensconced in the back of his limo, their luggage in the trunk.

As they pulled away from the airport, both Rays looking out on the scenery with curiosity, Ben's thoughts returned to when they had been on the plane. He had had a lot of time to think, with one Ray sleeping and the other playing some sort of hand held computer game. His mind mulled over the last year, the shock of Francesca's death and the echoes of it that followed them every day. Even in the beginning, the leads had been scarce. Still they had followed them one by one, but in the end they came up with nothing. Thier final trail had ended just the day before.

Ben looked at the faces of his friends now as he had on the plane. They needed this vacation--the three of them. He hoped that in the end it would give them a new perspective to continue or, if needed, the strength to move on.

As the limo went on, Kowalski's eyes began to glow. Out of one of his pockets came a small guide book, which he had purchased on one of their wrong turns in the airport. Apparently, he had always wanted to tour the United Kingdom because of some movie he had seen as a child. Vecchio listened to him patiently, nodding in all the right places. There was a comfortably relaxed set to his shoulders that he had been lacking for a long time. It seemed like just having new scenery had revitalized him. Leaning back, Ben listened to their voices fondly, trying to give his own mind a rest.

"Hey, look, Vecchio, is that St. Paul's Cathedral?"

"No, I don't think so."

And then a moment later, "Well, that's got to be one of those museums."

"That's a bed and breakfast."

"Oh, and there's the Canadian Con...no, it's not. That's in Trafalgar Square."

Ben opened one eye to see Vecchio lean forward and snatch the guidebook. "Let me see that. Look, you're not even in the right place." He flipped a couple of pages then handed it back before taking a small bag out of his pocket. "It's too bad we couldn't have brought Dief. I know how much he likes in-flight peanuts." He grinned at Ben, showing that he remembered the last plane ride they took together.

"I'm sure he is getting plenty of salt and sugar as it is, Ray."

Kowalski laughed. "I'll bet. Ma and Elaine are probably shoving cookies down his throat right about now."

"And he's enjoying every minute of it," Vecchio said, then a little of the new sparkle went from his eyes. "It was nice of Elaine to offer to stay with Ma."

"She always did take good care a us," This time Kowalski's cheer was slightly forced. "It's great ta have her back at Division. You need people you can count on."

Ben sighed. "Dief is going to need a strict diet when we get home."

"Oh, leave him alone, Benny." The sparkle was back. "We all need to enjoy ourselves once in awhile." As he said this, their car pulled up to a very large house with an iron gate along the front. All talking stopped for a moment as the three men looked at each other in puzzlement.

"Where're we?"

"This isn't the hostel we were expecting."

"Excuse me, sir. Has there been some mistake?"

The driver turned, his smile friendly. "I'm sorry. I should have mentioned this earlier. You are the last to arrive and the hostel provided is full. Mr. Lawrence has offered the use of his house until after the service."

Vecchio's eyes widened in surprise as he said, "Hey, no arguments from me, buddy. I could stand a little luxury."

They climbed out, impressed when people came out of the house to take their bags. An elderly gentleman followed them, dressed in a brown silk suit and smiling.

"You must be Constable Fraser," he said warmly, offering his hand.

"Yes, sir," Ben answered politely. "And these are my friends Ray Kowalski and Ray Vecchio."

The man shook their hands as well, continuing, "Pleased to meet you, gentlemen. Come into my home and make yourself comfortable."

As they entered an elegant foyer, Ben heard Vecchio whisper to Kowalski, "You know, this trip might not be so bad after all."