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Disclaimers: The characters belong toHaggis, Alliance Productions, etc

Other: The day after the night before.

Author: annezo @ fastmail . fm

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KEEPIN' SECRETS

"You think they're goin' to know?" Ray's tension overflowed the second Fraser got into the car.

"Do I think who will know what, Ray?" Fraser buckled his seatbelt securely.

"You know. What happened."

Sometimes it took Fraser a minute to catch up with the conversation, but he understood today. "I believe your concern is unfounded, Ray. I can see no reason to believe that any of your fellow officers will be able to discern that we...."

"Okay, okay, Fraser," Ray interrupted quickly. "That's enough. We don't have to talk about it." If you let Fraser get started on one of his tangents, he wouldn't shut up about it for hours. Not that Ray objected to talking about it, but not while they were at work.

"It was you that started the conversation, Ray," Fraser pointed out patiently. "I was merely trying to allay your fears."

"I don't have fears," Ray defended. "I was just wonderin', that's all. A guy can wonder, can't he?"

"Certainly, Ray." Fraser braced himself as the car swung wildly through a left-hand turn in the face of oncoming traffic. "In fact, it might be argued that...."

"I don't wanna argue, either. Let's just...drop it, okay?"

"Yes, Ray." The car lurched to a halt at a red light and Fraser eased his grip on the armrest, flexing his cramped fingers.

The light turned green and Ray hit the accelerator. Fraser braced himself. "In spite of your words, you would appear to be somewhat agitated."

"I'm not agitated, Fraser, okay?" Ray slammed the brakes and spun into a right-hand turn. "We're just late, that's all."

"If there is an accident, you'll be tardier than you are already," Fraser offered. "Perhaps it might be wiser to slow down. I'm sure that the Lieutenant would agree that arriving safely is more important than...."

"I know what I'm doin', Fraser." In front of the car, a school bus slowed and red lights started flashing.

Ray sighed impatiently and he slowed to a stop behind the bus. A crowd of children gathered at the bus stop surged forward and milled around the door of the bus.

"Tardy," Ray said with disgust. "No one says, 'tardy,' Fraser. You can't be 'tardy' once you get out of school, you know? Tardy is for kids." Sometimes Fraser sounded like he'd grown up on another planet or something. Not that Ray really minded. Fraser was just...Fraser. He wasn't like anyone else.

"How would you refer to being late?"

"I'd just say late, Fraser. Okay? When you're a kid, you're tardy. When you grow up and get out into the real world, you're just late. Period. End of story."

Ray drove in silence for a few blocks. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he figured that even if Fraser did say something to give them away, and Ray didn't think for a second that Fraser would do anything like that, he'd use some weird Canadian expression or something and no one would have a clue what he was talking about. He braked at an inconvenient stop sign.

"Ray." Fraser sat up and stared at something with that Mountie face. The one that said he was about to jump in the middle of someone else's trouble.

"Yeah? What?"

"Down there." Fraser nodded down the street on the left. "Do you see that?"

Ray stared down the street and finally spotted what Fraser was talking about. Wedged into one doorway, a stooped, elderly man clutched at a brown paper bag. In front of him, a young man was waving something shiny in the older man's face and jerking at the bag. Rays hung onto his temper and gunned the engine, throwing the car around the corner and into the nearest parking space.

"I'd say that that young man fits the description of the suspect that the Lieutenant mentioned yesterday," Fraser suggested.

They were both getting out of the car as he spoke.

"Yeah," Ray agreed. "That scumbag who put that old guy in the hospital last week. And they think he's responsible for about two dozen other violent muggings in the past couple of months."

"I believe you're right, Ray." Fraser let Ray move a few steps ahead, then he circled out toward the street in case the suspect tried to run. It was a routine they'd practiced over the past few months; Ray didn't even have to look to know what his partner was doing.

Ahead of them, the elderly man saw them coming and seemed to understand that rescue was at hand. He clutched his grocery bag tightly and shook his head as the young man facing him threatened him again.

"Don't move! Police!" Ray shouted out the familiar warning when they were about twenty feet from the suspect.

The suspect looked over his shoulder then turned to run. Fraser was there, one hand held up in warning. "Stop," he said firmly. "You are under arrest."

The man hesitated and then Ray was on him. "Chicago P.D!" Ray barked. "Drop the weapon."

It was quick, clean, and neat. An hour later they were in the station, accepting Lieutenant Welsh's congratulations.

"Good job, men." Welsh looked through the one-way mirror of the interview room. "If this guy is who I think he is, he's got a rap sheet as long as your arm."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Ray said with disgust. "He's probably been mugging senior citizens since he was in grade school." Ray hated criminals and he especially hated the type who preyed on lonely, defenseless old people. In some way he didn't understand, he always looked at victims like the old guy giving his terrified statement to Francesca as...he didn't know. Like, his dad or something. It made him crazy.

"It's a good collar," Welsh told them. "Just remember this moment, gentlemen. It may not be the most spectacular case you'll ever have, but when you go home tonight, you'll be able to tell yourselves that today you made a difference. And tomorrow the streets of Chicago will be a cleaner place."

He left the room, leaving Ray and Fraser staring at each other.

Ray shrugged. "He's in a good mood, I guess."

The paperwork and booking the guy took another hour, then Fraser and Ray were back on the streets.

Welsh sent them to investigate a complaint about teenagers loitering near a popular fast food restaurant. The owner didn't mind the extra business but he insisted that a mob of kids had descended on him today and they wouldn't leave and they were scaring off his regular customers. He thought the kids were drinking or doing drugs and he didn't intend to go to jail for it. He wanted them cleared out.

"It hardly seems likely that a group of high school children would be drinking in public. Especially this early in the day," Fraser objected.

"You don't know kids today," Ray told him. "They're up to for anything. Drinking, drugs, sex, crime, you name it." He shook his head. "Not like when I was growing up."

"Your childhood was different?"

"Different?" Ray laughed. "You bet. If I'd pulled half the shit kids pull today, my old man would have...." He shook his head again. "I don't know what he'd have done. Something big."

Fraser nodded. "Really?"

Ray was never sure if that meant that Fraser understood what he was saying, or that he was just tired of talking about it. "How about your old man?" he asked curiously. "Was he pretty strict?"

"You've heard me talk about my father, Ray," Fraser reminded him. "He wasn't really around that much when I was growing up."

"No, I guess not." Ray thought about Fraser's childhood as he drove. "I guess you didn't have that many problems with this kind of thing. I mean, you don't get many street gangs on the side of a glacier."

Fraser gave him a look,. He was usually annoyed at Ray's assumption that all of Canada was a frozen wasteland, but this time, if he hadn't known better, Ray would have sworn that Fraser was trying not to smile.

"Here we are." Ray pulled the car up to the curb and they sat watching the kids for a minute. Sure enough, the group was loud. They were milling about, yelling and laughing and generally disturbing everyone in the neighborhood. From where he sat, Ray couldn't see any signs of alcohol, but that didn't mean much.

"Hey you guys," Ray said to the group as he and Fraser walked up. "What's happening?"

"Who's asking?" One boy who looked like he should be playing football or wrestling instead of hanging out on street corners with a bunch of punks, pushed his way to the front of the crowd and confronted them.

Ray flipped out his badge. "Chicago P.D. What are you kids doing here?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Eating lunch."

"You're kind of a long way from school, aren't you?" Ray asked him. "I mean, the only school I know of is twenty blocks from here. The food at this place must be pretty good to make you come all this way."

"It's not bad."

"We're not bothering anyone," one girl objected. "We just came by to get something to eat."

"I beg your pardon, Miss," Fraser interrupted, "but you are, in fact, disturbing the restaurant owner and his other customers. A complaint has been filed that you're disturbing the peace. In addition, there is a suspicion that there may be drinking or...." his voice trailed off.

"Drugs," Ray said bluntly. "The report said that there might be drugs on the premises. Any of you know anything about that?"

A muffled chorus of 'no' and some headshakes greeted the question. Silence descended on the young crowd.

Ray looked at the kids' faces and made a decision. He'd seen a lot of troublemakers in his time, and he'd bet his badge that that wasn't what brought this bunch so far out of the way for lunch.

"Hey, you." He nodded to the young man who had talked to them first. "What's your name?"

"Steven," the boy said warily.

"Steven. I'm Ray, this is Fraser," Ray said, waving at his partner. "Can we talk to you for a second?"

"We're not breaking any laws," Steven said stubbornly.

"I know that," Ray told him. "I just want to talk. Over by the car, okay? We're not going anywhere."

Steven followed the two of them to the car reluctantly.

"Look, let's make this short," Ray said. "I know what school that sweater is from." He nodded at the boy's letter sweater. "And I know there's places near the school where you kids normally go to eat. What brings you out here?"

Steven looked annoyed. "We can eat anywhere we want to. It's no business of yours."

"No, it isn't," Fraser interrupted. He was doing his usual thing, being soothing. Good cop, bad cop. Except that Fraser wasn't just playing. "But I believe that Detective Vecchio, that is, Ray, is attempting to ascertain if there is some problem that the authorities should be aware of."

Steven looked at him in disbelief.

"He's Canadian," Ray explained.

"Oh." Steven shrugged. "Well, it's no big deal. There was an accident. Some truck turned over or something and they evacuated the school. A bunch of us decided to come farther downtown and have lunch."

"And that's all there is to it?" Ray eyed him closely.

Steven nodded. "That's all."

Ray gave it some thought. "Okay. Have a good afternoon."

Steven looked surprised. "That's it?"

"That's it," Ray confirmed.

Steven gave him a tentative smile. "Thanks. I guess."

"No, thank you," Fraser said. He smiled at the boy. "I hope you enjoy your holiday."

"Sure." Steven waved and moved off to join his friends.

"Perhaps we'd better interview the restaurant owner," Fraser suggested.

They did, but it took a while to convince the man that the kids loitering in his parking lot were just there for the one day and that they weren't drinking or doing drugs.

"Maybe we should consider having a meal of our own," Fraser suggested as they left the restaurant.

The food hadn't smelled that good, but it seemed like a logical suggestion until Ray checked his watch. "It's early."

"True," Fraser admitted. "But I was hoping for the opportunity to speak with you. Privately."

"We're private now." Ray pulled the car away from the curb and headed down the street.

"I was rather hoping to talk to you when you weren't distracted by the pressures of traffic."

"I don't let traffic bother me," Ray told him.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Fraser said with a slight frown.

Ray sighed. Fraser wasn't going to talk. He pulled into a side street and parked the car. "Okay, I'm listening. What is it?"

Fraser stared at his hands. "About last night," he said firmly. "I understand that what happened may not have been your choice. Under the pressures of the moment, you may have inadvertently seemed to have been inviting...."

"Fraser," Ray interrupted. "I didn't do anything inadvertently. I knew exactly what I was doing. If you're trying to say that you've changed your mind...."

"Not at all," Fraser said quickly.

"Okay. You're sure. I'm sure. We're both sure." He shot a look at Fraser. "Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

"I didn't mean to give the impression that I had changed my mind, Ray," Fraser said apologetically. "I just thought we should both be certain before we took any...irrevocable steps."

"I guess we are." Ray drummed on the steering wheel, thinking. "I don't think we should talk about this while we're at work any more. You know?"

"Yes, Ray."

"How about you come over for dinner tonight? We can talk as much as you want," Ray invited.

"That sounds very enjoyable," Fraser said with a smile. He looked at Ray for a moment. "Should I...should I plan to stay?"

Ray grinned at him. "What do you think?"

****

The End