CHAPTER 7.
"So let me get this straight, Fraser." Inspector Thatcher drummed her fingers on her desk as she read her subordinate's report for the third time. "You rescued a pregnant woman from an elevator and then proceeded to deliver her baby?"
"Yes, sir, that is correct," replied Fraser, standing to attention with his hat tucked under his arm. "A son, Chen-Hao."
"Have I walked into one of those cliché-laden movies that go straight-to-video and end up in a bargain bin at the video store, Constable?"
"Not that I'm aware of, sir."
"Oh come on, Fraser. A woman stuck in an elevator having a baby?" Meg rolled her eyes as the words left her lips.
"Mrs Hu did not actually deliver in the elevator," Fraser clarified.
"I realise that, but even so..." Meg trailed off and took a deep breath. "This is the kind of thing that only serves to enhance the stereotypical image of us in the eyes of the Americans, Fraser."
"Are you suggesting that helping Mrs Hu and her baby was bad for our image, Sir?" asked Fraser incredulously. He had a sudden flash of de-ja-vu as he remembered a very similar conversation he'd had with Inspector Moffat, Inspector Thatcher's predecessor, only a few months earlier.
"No, of course not," snapped Thatcher. "What I mean is…what I meant to say was…" She stopped and let out an abrupt sigh, realising there was no point continuing this discussion with him. "Speaking of Americans," she said, quietly pleased with herself at the seamless segue. "I had a telephone call this morning from Superintendent Fitzgerald. Some warning would have been nice, Fraser. I didn't expect a call from the highest ranking officer in Chicago."
"Ah," replied Fraser.
He had deliberately delayed telling Inspector Thatcher about Ryan and the events of the past few days, assuming she would find a whole list of faults with the way he had dealt with the situation. He and Ray had offered to take Ryan home last night and talk to his father about everything, but Ryan – stubborn as ever – had refused, so they had no idea how the Superintendent felt about what had happened.
"I will submit a full report," Fraser stated.
"A report about your lunch?" replied the Inspector, screwing up her face in bemusement.
"Lunch?" repeated an equally confused Fraser.
"With the Superintendent. He wants to take you and Detective Vecchio to lunch," explained Thatcher. "I'm not sure a full report will be required, although I am curious as to how you and Vecchio have come to know him."
"Ah, well, you see the Superintendent requested Ray's assistance in showing his youngest son the ropes, so to speak, regarding police work," Fraser enlightened her, relieved that he didn't appear to be in her bad books this time. "I was merely a chaperone."
"He wanted Ray Vecchio to show his son how to be a police officer?" Meg queried. "Are you sure he wasn't thinking of another Ray Vecchio?"
"Not as far as I'm aware," replied Fraser.
"Has there been any trouble?" she probed.
"Oh no, sir," replied Fraser, tugging at his left earlobe. "At least, um…well, you know how young people are."
"Not really," admitted Thatcher, but decided against asking any more questions. It was probably best that she did not know any details about what had been going on, she decided. Her conversation with Superintendent Fitzgerald had been perfectly cordial, so she assumed nothing too bad could have happened.
At least I don't have to reprimand him again...this time.
Fraser cleared his throat awkwardly, wondering if the Inspector was going to say anything else. She was staring at him and it was making him very uncomfortable. He didn't know whether to make eye contact, or look straight ahead. He decided looking straight ahead would be easier. Recently he'd realised that looking into her eyes made him experience feelings he had no idea how to process.
"Oh," said Thatcher suddenly. She blinked her eyes a few times and pretended to shuffle some papers on her desk. Again she didn't want him to leave, but she couldn't think of a valid reason to insist that he stayed. "Um, er, was there anything else?" she asked.
For a second, Fraser didn't answer. Hadn't she been the one to call him into her office, not the other way around? "No, I don't believe so," he replied.
"In that case you are dismissed," she snapped.
"Yes, sir," Fraser responded with a nod of his head and turned to leave.
"Oh, Fraser!" Thatcher called out suddenly.
He span round, his eyes wide. Her tone of voice was difficult for him to read at the best of times and this was no exception. She always exuded a confusing mix of emotions, not to mention pheromones and Fraser's heightened senses were continually overwhelmed just by her presence. So now he wasn't sure if he was in trouble, or something else had caused her to call him back. "Yes, sir?" he prompted when she said nothing further.
Thatcher's mind was racing. She had not called out to him for any other reason than to prevent him from leaving the room, but now she was desperately trying to think of an excuse. She got to her feet in an attempt to radiate authority.
"Fraser, I…" she began, but just as she started speak, Fraser's tongue darted out of his mouth and swished across his lower lip. She'd seen him do it a hundred times before - it was one of his endearing habits – but this morning he happened to be standing in such a way that the fresh moisture caught the sunlight and his lips sparkled like they were made of a thousand stars.
Meg was mesmerised. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and as hard as she tried she couldn't swallow. Or blink. Or do very much of anything. She felt her head start to spin and then a feeling of giddiness that she couldn't control washed over her. Before she could stop herself, she emitted a whimper and staggered backwards. She reached out to steady herself on her desk, but her hand missed and instead flailed wildly in the air.
Meg panicked as she lost all control, but then she felt a strong arm around her shoulders and a voice…that voice…pulled her back from wherever it was she had been heading.
"Sir! Inspector!" Fraser's worried tones grounded her in a place of safety. "It's alright, I've got you."
Meg blinked hard and realised Fraser had her in his arms. He carried her over to the couch and laid her down. She tried to speak, but no words appeared. Humiliation began to push the dizziness aside, but she did not have the strength to argue and instead she allowed him to fuss. He put two cushions behind her head and squatted beside her.
"Sir? Are you back with me?" he asked.
Meg nodded and he checked her pulse. His fingers pressed against her wrist and the warmth of his touch comforted her.
"What happened?" she finally managed to ask him, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer.
Did I just swoon? Surely not…I've never done that before. Do women even still do that in the Nineties? It can't be that…it can't be…but he looked so…so…
"I'm not sure, sir," Fraser replied. "You weren't completely unconscious, but you were close. Have you had a medical check-up recently? It could be your blood pressure. You may be unwell."
"I hope you're right," replied Meg, forcing herself into a sitting position. At Fraser's puzzled frown, she added, "I mean, I hope it's my blood pressure and not something more serious."
"Understood," he replied.
"Come to think of it, I haven't eaten yet today," she continued. She felt completely normal again now, apart from feeling hugely embarrassed.
"That could be a contributing factor," noted Fraser. "Would you like me make you some breakfast? Then perhaps I should call your doctor?"
"No!" she snapped. "Don't be ridiculous. Now, haven't you got a lunch to attend shortly?"
"I have, sir, but perhaps I should stay here with you instead?" he replied.
Meg hesitated. Part of her wanted to order him to stay, but she knew that was completely ridiculous. Besides, he could be the problem and she didn't want to risk any more undignified episodes. "Thank you, Constable, but I'm perfectly fine now."
Fraser looked unconvinced, but nodded at her words. "Right you are," he said.
"Dismissed," she added.
Fraser lingered for a brief moment. He felt something, an urge to stay, but not because he was concerned for her health. It was something else, something he couldn't quantify.
"I said, dismissed," the Inspector hissed.
"I was just, er…" he floundered over his words. "….er, leaving," he said finally. He spun round and took one step towards the door, but his foot caught the corner of the couch and he stumbled, uncharacteristically losing his balance briefly before righting himself and marching out of her office.
He strode along the landing, holding his head high until Diefenbaker – who had been waiting outside - barked. He stopped and looked down at his wolf. "Don't be so absurd," he replied. "She is under a lot of stress," he added.
Dief yapped and wandered off.
"What do you mean?" Fraser called after him. "How could I possibly have that effect on anyone?"
xXxXxXxXx
Ray had never been to the restaurant Fitzgerald had booked for lunch, but he made a mental note to bring Louise here on their next date. It wasn't cheap, but she was worth it. Ray scanned down the menu for the third time and eventually settled on the pork steak.
"And I'll have the salmon." Fraser smiled at the waitress as he spoke.
"Would you like anything else?" she asked, blushing. "If you have any needs, anything at all, just wave and I'll be right over," she added with a wink.
Ray watched her walk away and grinned. "I'm sure you will," he mumbled under his breath. He glanced at Fraser who was, as usual, completely oblivious to the waitress' attempt to flirt with him.
"Thank you both for coming," said Superintendent Fitzgerald with an appreciative nod. "Ryan and I had a good talk last night and he told me everything. At least I hope it was everything?" he glanced at his son who was sitting next to him, looking a little sheepish.
"Yeah, Dad," Ryan replied. "No more surprises. I promise."
"I owe you both a huge debt of gratitude," continued Fitzgerald. "I'm just sorry things got so out of hand."
"It was nothing, sir," replied Ray with a dismissive wave.
"Well, the whole incident has opened my eyes to a few things," said the Superintendent. "Number one, parenting isn't easy," he chuckled, raising his eyebrows expressively.
They all laughed politely, even Ryan.
"I mean, when they're babies you feel that overwhelming sense of love, but you don't anticipate the struggles ahead," said Fitzgerald. "But it's all worth it, isn't it." He smiled fondly at Ryan, who squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
"I know exactly what you mean, sir," said Ray.
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," observed Fitzgerald, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
Ray nodded. "My third," he began. "Well I don't know where I'd be without her now, but when I first had her, she was temperamental as hell. Always fussing, always hungry. Cost me a thousand bucks just to have her delivered. Then I laid eyes on her and I knew I wanted to hold onto her forever. She has this gorgeous voice and she's the most beautiful shade of green…"
Fitzgerald wasn't sure if he'd heard that correctly. "Green?" he queried, looking flabbergasted. He glanced at Fraser for an explanation, but Ray couldn't wait to get to the punchline.
"That '71 Riviera's always been the car of my dreams," he explained with a wide grin.
The Superintendent laughed. "Oh I see. You're a lucky man, Detective. I had to sell my '64 Impala when Rebecca came along," he explained. "I take it you don't have kids of the human kind, then?"
"Er, no, sir," replied Ray. "I'm afraid my marriage didn't last quite that long."
"Oh, I'm sorry," the Superintendent answered, respectfully.
"Yeah, well she wasn't," noted Ray, dryly.
"What about you, Constable. Do I hear the pitter-patter of tiny Mountie feet?" asked Fitzgerald.
"Ah, well, no, sir," replied Fraser. "Not yet."
"Not yet?" Fitzgerald queried. "But you'd like to, someday."
"Well, um, maybe?" replied Fraser, suddenly wishing he hadn't started this. "That is, first of all I'd need to find a woman…"
There was a sudden crash and they all turned to see the waitress picking up pieces of broken glass from the floor…except she didn't appear to be concentrating on the task at all. Instead she smiled coyly at Fraser and with her free hand she deftly undid the top two buttons of her uniform top.
Fraser made a move to get up from the table, but Ray stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.
"Ray, I should help her clean that up," said Fraser with a frown.
"I think she's got it, Benny," replied Ray with a grin. "You were telling us about finding yourself a women," he added with a wink.
"Oh…yes…right," Fraser cleared his throat, wishing Ray hadn't reminded them all. "Well…er, I was referring, hypothetically of course, to the need to find a mother…a mother for my children," he continued reluctantly. He felt his face flushing red. "And, well I suppose, the next stage would be…um…well, marriage, possibly, although that's not a necessity of course. However, the benefits of a stable family unit for the children…er, child…child, or children, whatever form that may take, formal or otherwise, are well documented."
Ray clasped his hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stop the laughter erupting. He knew it was cruel to watch his best friend squirming and he felt he should step in and save him from further humiliation, but he was enjoying it too much.
"Actually, in many Inuit families…" Fraser continued.
That was enough for Ray. "Benny, you'll make some kid a great Dad one day," he noted.
"Thank you kindly, Ray," replied Fraser.
"I need the bathroom," Ryan announced and he left the table.
"I meant what I said," said Fitzgerald after his son was out of earshot. "I really owe you both. I had no idea he didn't want to be a cop. Why didn't he say something sooner?"
"He thought he was letting you down," Ray explained. "And believe me, there's nothing worse than the feeling you've disappointed your old man."
"I would have supported his decision," insisted Fitzgerald. "And the youth centre, well…" he trailed off and tried to gather his thoughts. "To think he's done all that on his own and helped that girl and dealt with those thugs. My wife and I are so proud of him."
Ray smiled and nodded. "He's a good kid," he said. Three days ago he would never have expected to be saying that about Ryan, but it was true. It was obvious from his expression that Superintendent Fitzgerald was proud of his son and he deserved to be.
Ray couldn't help but feel a pang of envy for Ryan. Ray's own father had never been proud of him. No matter how hard Ray tried he could never recall one moment where his Pa had congratulated him on any of his achievements. He'd never seen the point in achieving good grades at school and he'd been completely against the idea of his son becoming a police officer, insisting that Ray would never make it through the Academy. Ray had proved him wrong on so many occasions though and he would have given anything just to hear his Pa say 'Well done, son'. Just once.
"So what are Ryan's plans now?" Fraser enquired.
"You'll have to ask him that," replied Fitzgerald. "He withdrew from the Academy first thing this morning. We talked about his options, but all his mother and I can offer is advice. You know Ryan, he will make his own decision. However, I suspect he will enrol in college. He spoke about that a lot last night. I told him there's no rush, though. He needs to be absolutely certain that he's doing the right thing this time."
"And the youth centre?" asked Ray.
"Ah, well, it's funny you should say that," replied Fitzgerald, just as Ryan came back to the table. "I was just going to tell them about the money," he said to his son. "But you can tell them."
"Sure," said Ryan, a huge grin enveloping his face. "So, apparently the Chicago PD have a grant set aside for youth projects," he began. "So I'm gonna apply and hopefully use the money to find better premises. I really want to keep Carl's Place running while I'm in college. I know it'll be tough, but I owe it to Carl…and to Lulu."
Fraser smiled. "What you're doing is highly commendable. If I can be of any help at all, you know where to find me," he said.
"Thanks," replied Ryan, blushing.
Just then the waitress brought over four plates of food on a tray and proceeded to place them on the table. She left Fraser's salmon dish until last. "There," she said, leaning closer to him than was necessary. "Are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye.
"Not at this juncture," replied Fraser, leaning slowly away from her as he spoke.
"I'd like some ketchup," Ray piped up.
The disappointed waitress stood up and glared at him. "It's on the side," she said, pointing to the counter. "Get it yourself."
xXxXxXx
The four men talked amiably as they ate their meals. Superintendent Fitzgerald was contemplating ordering coffee when his phone rang. With a roll of his eyes, he pulled it from his pocket. "Fitzgerald," he said. "Yes…OK…OK…I'll be there in ten. Don't let him leave."
He quickly pocketed his phone. "I'm sorry, gentlemen," he said, "but duty calls."
"Anything I can help you with, sir?" asked Ray, eagerly.
"Thank you, but no," replied Fitzgerald. "It's a problem with one of my staff. Nothing I can't handle." He pulled out a bundle of crisp, green Dollar bills from his wallet and placed it on the table. "Lunch is my treat," he said. "Sorry to have to cut it short." He quickly shook hands with Fraser and Ray and gave his son a hug before racing out of the door.
Ryan picked up the cash from the table and counted it. "Thanks, Dad," he said, rolling his eyes. "This isn't enough. Um, you guys have any money? I'm a little short."
"Oh dear," said Fraser. "I'm afraid my pay cheque was late this month, an unfortunate mix-up. Er…Ray?"
Ray rolled his eyes. "Here," he said, opening his wallet. "How much do you need?" he sighed.
"Sixty," replied Ryan.
Ray baulked. "No wonder I've never been to this place before," he said and he reluctantly emptied his wallet of notes and coins. "There, that covers the tip too. Should keep your waitress friend happy, Benny."
"Oh, she's not my friend," said Fraser, with an innocent expression. "We've only just met."
Ray and Ryan laughed. "Thanks, Vecchio," Ryan said as he collated the money. "Don't worry, my Dad'll pay you back."
Ray shrugged. He hoped the Superintendent would remember the debt, because there was no way he was ever going to chase it.
"He's…he's OK, my Dad I mean," added Ryan. "I realised I can talk to him man to man. I'm not a kid anymore." He paused before continuing. "Hey, listen, Vecchio," he said, his face suddenly serious. "I wanted to, er, to say sorry…about what happened that night at the jewellery store."
"Oh, that," said Ray. "Well, kid, it's all over now. I picked up my gun this morning, all cleared. Forget about it."
"I can't," replied Ryan honestly. "It was my fault you had to kill that guy."
"Use deadly force," Ray corrected him. "We say 'Use deadly force'. The shrinks came up with that, I think."
Ryan nodded. "Yeah, I know," he replied. "Well, listen, whatever you call it I know it's not easy. You saved my life that night."
Ray nodded. "On balance, it seemed like the best thing to do. For the sake of my career, I mean," he said.
Ryan laughed. "In that case, I'm glad you value your career so much," he said. "Listen, I gotta go. I got a lot to figure out and a whole bunch of application forms to fill in. So, er, I guess I'll see you around."
Fraser got to his feet and shook Ryan's hand. "Say hello to Lulu when you see her," he said. "She knows how to contact me if she needs any assistance, although I suspect she is going to be just fine."
"Yeah," agreed Ryan. "I need someone to run Carl's Place for me and I figure she's the perfect person for the job. She won't take any crap from anyone."
"Indeed," agreed Fraser. "And if there's anything Ray, or I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask."
Ryan nodded, smiled and left the restaurant. Ray left Fraser to settle the bill and he walked outside to wait in the car.
A few minutes later, Fraser walked out of the restaurant into the bright Chicago sunshine. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a homeless man, George, whom he'd helped a few weeks previously when his dog had been injured. Fraser turned his head and smiled at the man.
"Good afternoon, George," said Fraser with a nod of acknowledgement.
"Hello Constable," replied the man. His little dog came running over to Fraser .
Fraser leaned down and made a fuss of the animal. "My my, Sasha, you're looking well," he said to the animal.
"Thanks to you," replied George. "Where's your wolf?" he asked.
"I'm afraid this restaurant is strictly no dogs," explained Fraser. "So he had to stay at the Consulate."
"Pity," replied George. "Come on Sasha, " he said, beckoning to the dog. "See you around, Constable."
Fraser waved as the little dog bounded off down the street with George struggling to keep up with her. He stood up and was about to cross the road to join Ray in the car when something else caught his eye. Something red…wearing a hat.
"Hello, Dad," he said with a puzzled frown. "What are you doing here?"
The ghost of Robert Fraser looked up at the sound of his son's voice. He was standing beside a lamp-post at the corner of the block with his hands behind his back.
"Just enjoying the sunshine, son," he replied. "Full of vitamin D, you know."
"Dad, you don't need vitamins, you're dead," Fraser pointed out.
"Why do you always feel the need to remind me?" asked Bob with a sigh.
"Sorry, Dad," replied Fraser, feeling a little guilty. The two Mounties stood in silence for a moment, before Fraser spoke again. "Um, Dad, it's nice to see you, but Ray's waiting for me."
"Oh, right ," said Bob. "Well don't let me hold you up. Good work with that young lad, by the way."
"Thanks," answered Fraser with a nod.
There was another pause. "I should, um..." he began, nodding towards the Riviera. As far as he could tell Ray hadn't noticed him yet.
"There was one thing," said Bob suddenly, just as Fraser was about to walk away. "A question," he added.
Fraser raised his eyebrows in expectation.
"I was just wondering," began Bob. "Did you...that is...when you made your career choice ...was it...I mean, did you...did you only join the RCMP because you thought that's what I wanted?"
Fraser was a little stunned by the question. Eventually his expression turned to a warm smile. "No, Dad," he answered. "I always wanted to be a Mountie. For as long as I can remember. I believe in the principles of the RCMP, I believe in justice and truth and I'm proud to wear this uniform...and I wanted to be just like you."
Bob swallowed hard. "But...but I..." he trailed off, unable to speak.
"It's alright, Dad," said Fraser. "You don't have to tell me how you feel."
Bob nodded appreciatively. "Your mother would have been..." he began, but emotion prevented him from finishing his sentence again.
Fraser smiled and blinked away the dampness which had suddenly appeared in his eyes. "I know," he said, his voice barely a whisper. Then, with a final nod of acknowledgement to his father, Fraser crossed the road.
Bob watched his son walk away. "I'm so proud of you, son," he said, even though he knew Fraser was out of earshot.
Except, of course, Fraser's acute sense of hearing meant he heard his father's voice as clearly as if he'd been standing right next to him. "Not as proud as I am of you, Dad," he whispered. He turned back, but his father had disappeared.
Fraser found Ray sitting in the driver's seat of the Riviera turning his gun over and over in his hands. Fraser opened the passenger door and joined him in the car. He studied Ray's movements for a second before speaking.
"Are you alright?" he asked, softly.
Ray glanced up at him and smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine," he lied. He wasn't fine, not yet, but he was getting there. Having his weapon back in his hands had brought the memories from the other night crashing back into his mind and not even an expensive lunch could block them out for long.
"Did you make an appointment with the therapist as Lieutenant Welsh suggested?" Fraser asked.
"No, Benny," replied Ray with a frown. "I've not needed to before and I don't need to this time. Load of baloney, anyway, all that psycho mumbo-jumbo. I told you, I'm fine."
Fraser nodded and thought it best to change the subject, although he made a mental note to keep a close eye on his friend over the next few weeks. "Ryan seems a lot less troubled, today, doesn't he," he said.
"Yeah," agreed Ray, slipping his gun into his belt. "Like a different kid. Amazing what a good talk with your Dad can do."
"Indeed," agreed Fraser. He paused momentarily to glance over his shoulder into the back seat of the Riviera, but it was empty. Not that he would ever admit it to his own father, but Fraser didn't know how he would have coped without his ghostly visitations since he'd arrived in Chicago. He hoped his father would appear soon, he actually wanted to talk to him about Ryan.
"You know, Benny," continued Ray. "I figure Ryan could have been a good cop," he said. "The Academy would've knocked that attitude out of him for one thing."
"I agree," replied Fraser. "However, his heart wasn't in it. That much was obvious. This is not the career to pursue unless you're absolutely committed."
"Some of us should be committed!" Ray laughed at his own pun. "I always wanted to be a cop," he continued. "I mean, it was the last thing my Pa wanted, but his opinion meant about as much to me as Al Capone's. Maybe that's why I was so determined? To prove him wrong, I mean."
"Al Capone?" queried Fraser.
"No, my Pa!" exclaimed Ray. He turned the key in the ignition and the Riviera roared to life. "Listen to that," he said with a smile. "Pop didn't want me to buy this car, either…the first one, at least. Said it was waste of money. Jeez, Benny, Pa was such a… such a…" but he couldn't bring himself to say any of the colourful nouns he was thinking of.
Why do I still waste so much anger on my Pa…? It can't be healthy…maybe I should see that shrink after all…?
"Ryan is very lucky to have the Superintendent as his father," Fraser noted.
Ray nodded. "Did you mean what you said back there?" he asked. "About having kids one day?"
Fraser took a deep breath and pondered his answer. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "In all honesty it's not something I've given much thought to."
Ray smiled. "You're great with Maria's kids," he noted.
Fraser's face fell into a perplexed frown. "Maria's children already have a father, Ray."
"Yeah, well, one day I might just have to throttle Tony, so don't leave town, Benny," Ray replied.
Fraser looked shocked until Ray broke in to a laugh. "I'm kidding, Benny," he said.
"Ah," said Fraser with relief.
"You know, Frannie's real broody right now," continued Ray as he pulled out into the traffic.
Fraser had a sudden choking fit and Ray chuckled. He internally chastised himself for teasing Fraser so much, but it was so easy.
"Can you imagine the results of the gene pool, Benny?" he said, with a quick glance at his friend. "Fraser-Vecchio kids would be so gorgeous. Handsome boys and beautiful girls. Just imagine…" he trailed off and bit hard on his tongue to stop himself laughing.
Fraser was incapable of offering a reply so they drove for the next five minutes in silence. Then Ray's voice cut in again. This time all the humour was gone.
"Fraser."
"Yes, Ray?"
"You get my sister pregnant and I'll kill you."
"Understood, Ray."
THE END.