Chuck Chuck Goose

A Burn Notice/Due South Crossover

by WritePassion

The icy cold air he breathed threatened to freeze his lungs from the inside out. If it weren't for the fact that he was running and every muscle pumping, his heart pushing warm blood through his veins, Ray Kowalski thought he would certainly freeze in the frigid January air. The perp ahead of him dared to look back, and it gave him an edge. Ray gained on him by two more strides. Panic crossed the man's features, and Ray smirked at the signs that he was tiring and was about ready to give up. No doubt Fraser had already caught his man. Why did he always get stuck with the stubborn ones?

They were running out of sidewalk, and Ray knew if he didn't take a chance now, they were in for some big trouble. He pushed off with his toes, grateful for the tread on his boots as he sprung forward. For a second or two he was suspended in air, until his body slammed into the perp's and sent them both barreling into the short concrete barrier. The momentum took them over the top, and for a moment Ray and the man flipped head over heels, the dark cloudy sky in his sights, and then his back crashed into the hard ice. It cracked and their weight took them down into the deathly cold waters of Lake Michigan.

Crying out in terror, the man broke away from Ray and thrashed about in the water. The frigid water was a shock to his system and caused Ray's body to freeze up, then shiver uncontrollably. He sank, but he forced his arms to move to bring him back to the surface. His man crawled up on the ice to get away, but every time he tried, another section broke.

"Ray! Ray, where are you!"

"Fraser!" He took in a mouthful of water and gagged. Looking up, he spied Fraser's wolf sitting on the barrier, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as if he'd just run a marathon. "Hey, Dief, don't just sit there, ya dumb dog! Do something!" Diefenbaker only stared at him.

Then Fraser's Mountie hat appeared along with his head peering over the barrier. "Oh dear, Ray!" He turned to the wolf. "Dief, get Ray's suspect!"

While Diefenbaker trotted around to the wall where the man climbed up in an attempt to escape, Fraser pulled off his pea coat, dropped it on the ground, and undid his Sam Brown belt. He used it to snag Ray's wrist and help him up out of the water. By the time he was able to grab the back of Ray's belt and pull him to safety, sirens shrieked loudly as police, fire, and an ambulance crew pulled to a stop. Ray's entire body shook, and his teeth chattered.

"Fffrraser."

"Shhh, don't try to talk, Ray. They'll get you warmed up at the hospital."

Ray was in no condition to protest. They laid him on the gurney and ran him to the ambulance, checking his vitals and trying to warm him up on the way. His friend stood beside his wolf, watching him leave, hoping for the best.

"Fraser."

"Ah, Leftenant Welsh." He glanced at the Lieutenant warily, afraid that he would be blamed for this unfortunate event, because things like this always seemed to happen when he was around. But it wasn't his fault Ray doggedly chased the man straight into the lake.

"How did this happen, or should I really not ask?"

"Well, Sir, Ray and I were in pursuit of two men who were responsible for the First Illinois bank robbery last week. They were on foot, and we saw them. When we attempted to apprehend them, Ray apparently went after the, um, more athletically inclined man. He stumbled into the lake, with Ray."

"Stumbled into the lake. Hmmhmm. I suppose I'll be able to read all about it in your detailed report."

"Oh, yes, Sir!" Fraser put his coat back on, the cold air starting to get to him. "Sir, may I go to the hospital first to check on Ray?"

"By all means."

"Thank you kindly, Leftenant!" Fraser caught a ride in a squad car following the second ambulance that took the wet perp to the hospital for a checkup.

Lt. Welsh wondered, for the thousandth time in the last fifteen years, how he wound up with a Mountie working for the Chicago PD. Sometimes Constable Benton Fraser was a blessing with his amazing deductive reasoning, but when he got Kowalski in trouble, Welsh wondered what form he needed to fill out to ship him back to Canada. Surely, by now his superiors had gotten over the fact that he collared a well-respected member of the RCMP as his father's killer, a brave act that led to his being exiled to the United States. But then again, Welsh still needed Fraser, despite his talent for finding trouble. Ray would survive this latest fiasco, and Fraser would stay on, of that he was certain.

Fiona Glenanne-Westen lay on the beach sunning herself. It had been so long since they had a break of sorts. It felt good, really good, to laze in bed until ten with Michael, and then head to the beach. It was a perfectly idyllic day with full sun, heat, the balmy salt air, and the love of her life by her side. At least, once he was able to get himself away from his cell phone and relax. Now he lay beside her on his stomach, the sun slowly turning his skin a light bronze.

"Need some more lotion?" She leaned over and asked him. He didn't respond. Carefully, she pulled up his sunglasses and noticed that his eyes were closed. The action didn't wake him up, so she replaced them and gently rubbed more lotion onto his back.

"Mmmm, Fi," he moaned and smiled. "Feels good."

"Don't want you to burn, Michael." She smiled and leaned down from where she sat on the blanket beside him, kissed him, and added softly, "We've had enough burned spies around here lately."

"I agree completely," he muttered, then fell asleep again under her massaging hands.

"Hey, there you are!"

Fiona's head flew up and she frowned at the sight of the older man trudging through the sand. Sam Axe wore Bermuda shorts, his hawaiian shirt open to expose his bare chest, and sunglasses covered his eyes. In his left hand he carried a fishing pole and a tackle box, and in his right, a small cooler, no doubt filled with beer. His bright grin told her that he was happy to see them.

"Sam, what are you doing here?"

"Sorry Fi, I didn't know this was a private beach," he replied, mirroring the annoyed tone in her voice. He shoved the end of his pole into the sand. "I was just up on the pier fishing. Didn't catch a thing, but hey, that's the way it goes. As I was going back to the car, I thought I saw you guys. So what's shakin'?"

"Nothing. We're enjoying the time off."

"Yeah, me too. I was going to head over to Carlito's after this. Thought you might wanna come, but you look like you're pretty set here for awhile." He shrugged. "I'll see you later. Let me know if Mike gets any cases, okay?"

"Of course. Good day, Sam."

"Yeah. See ya." Sam pulled his pole out of the sand, picked up his gear, and walked to the car.

They hadn't had a new case in a couple of weeks, and Mike and Fi were pretty quiet in all that time. This was the first opportunity where he'd been able to catch them. He always seemed to miss them at the loft, and they weren't answering their phones. I guess that's what happens when you become Mr. and Mrs. Westen. He was feeling more and more like a fifth wheel.

Sam popped the trunk on his latest used car. The only positive thing he could say about it is that it was cheap, and that he rebuilt the engine with a little help from Ms. Reynolds. They no longer had a romantic relationship, but despite the incident in which Michael sent her classic car plummeting off a parking garage, they still remained close. She was a good friend, one of many former lovers who remained in his life as friends, but without certain benefits. Now, if he could only find one that did body work...

"Hello," he said with a wide grin as a pretty young thing in a string bikini passed on the sidewalk, giving him the eye. He slammed the trunk after throwing his gear inside and hoped maybe she'd slow down, but she kept walking away. "Plenty of fish in the sea," he muttered to himself. "Plenty of them."