Fic With No Name [AKA A Duty of Love
by zzzaney
You know, this is one of those fics where I have no idea where it came from, where it's going, or even what happened! So, be forwarned, If you are familiar with my style of ficcing, be very afraid, cuz it's the blind leading the blind, deaf, and dumb (not to mention mute ;) ) btw, I guess I'll have to name this eventually. Can't tell what the rating, or parings if any, will be. It's truly a muse mutany.
zzzaney
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As he stood tentatively in the doorway of the hospital room, he could feel the knot of fear twist into the pit of his stomach as he recalled those long moments.
Why was it so difficult for her to let someone love her? He knew it was his fault that she lay in the bed before her, pale. IV's dripping slowly into a lifeless form.
Slowly, he made his way towards her, quietly, lest he disturb her and she realize that she wasn't alone. Though part of him wished she'd wake this instant so he could tell her how sorry he was, that it was all his fault. That everything would be all right if she'd just open her eyes and never leave him again.
Worrying the brim of his hat between strong hands, he quietly lifted a chair closer to the bed and sat, perched on its edge. He didn't really know what he was doing there. Certainly he'd be the last person she'd want to see if... no, when she wakes. Yet, something compelling bid him to her side as if his very life depended on it. He couldn't leave her. Wouldn't. He had to make certain with his own eyes that she'd be all right. She had to be. Dare he touch her hand? Hold it securely in his? It was a tentative bond, but it was all he had. Carefully, so as not to bump the IV needle, he wrapped his fingers around her thin hand, breathing a small sigh of relief that it was warm to the touch. She looked so otherworldly that he feared... No! He wouldn't even think it.
She had to get better. She *would* get better.
He wasn't sure how long he'd sat in that chair, unable to move. Waiting. Every once in a while, a nurse would come in and check her vital signs, but she didn't stir. No one questioned his right to be there, and for that he sent up a prayer of thanks. When she did start to move, he looked at her dumbstruck. Surely God hadn't answered his prayers? He wasn't worthy enough. He stood shakily and leaned over the bed. "Margaret?" he whispered, though his voice sounded loud to his own ears after the long hours of silence. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinked a few times, but didn't seem to focus on him. "Meg?" he asked again, hoping for, and dreading, a sign of recognition from her. Her mouth moved but no sound came forth. When her tongue darted out to moisten cracked, dry lips, he quickly grabbed the cup from her tray which the nurse had filled with ice chips, and spooned a few into waiting lips. After a few moments her face scrunched up and she started to sob. He quickly wiped the tears away with his thumb as he leaned closer, whispering to her that she would be all right. That he wouldn't leave her. That she needed to rest, assuring her he'd be there for her when she woke again. He wasn't sure how much she understood, but after a few moments she fell back into a fitful slumber, and he sank into the chair relieved.
Days passed and Margaret didn't seem to be getting any better, though according to the doctors she was making marked improvement. He always made certain that no one else was visiting when he arrived, though that didn't appear to be a problem since she didn't seem to have many friends in Chicago.
"Benny?"
He didn't have to turn to know who'd entered the room. He'd been avoiding Ray for days. Avoiding everyone. If he had to hear this 'wasn't his fault' one more time, he swore he'd go mad. He could hear Ray move farther into the room and sighed as he sat straighter.
"You're a hard man to track." Ray said as way of an opener.
"Apparently, not hard enough." Ben, uncharacteristically replied.
Ray studied him for a moment, then slid another chair up to his. Sitting down with a sigh, folded his hands, his elbows on the arm rests, and waited. "You look like shit." Ray stated without pretense. When Fraser didn't answer, Ray decided to wait him out. For the first time since entering the room, since finding his friend safe after days of worrying, he was able to focus on Thatcher. The other times he'd come by looking for Fraser he'd barely paid attention to her. Not that he didn't care, he reminded himself, but at least he knew she was safe. No one had seen Fraser since she'd been taken by the ambulance. Thatcher seemed a mere shell of herself. Of course, the accident could have been worse. Much worse. Not that he would have admitted it to anyone, but if she were to sit up and give him hell for dragging Fraser off on another hair-brained scheme, he'd feel a whole lot better. Ray knew it was his fault she was in here. 'No wonder Fraser's been avoiding me', he thought as he watched his
friend watch her. "Everyone's been worried about you." Ray stated, "Dief hasn't even been trying to steal my food. He just whines all day long." 'That seemed to get his attention'.
"I'd forgotten all about him." Fraser guiltily admitted, wondering just how many people he'd managed to let down.
"I wouldn't worry too much. Frannie's been pampering him like he's a baby. She's figuring you're going to pick him up eventually, and she's making all these crazy plans. I told her to leave you alone though."
Ben didn't appear to hear him at first, but then he muttered a 'thank you kindly'. Ray figured he could have told Fraser Canada had just been invaded by dentists and his reaction would have been the same.
"You should get some rest." Ray stated, but again, was met with only silence from the Mountie. "When was the last time you slept?"
Though he hadn't answered him, Ben was aware of the questions Ray asked. When was the last time he'd slept? It had to have been before the accident. How could he be expected to sleep when she was in here? He wondered. No, when he'd *caused* her to be in here, he corrected himself. He tried not to think about the argument they'd had. A stupid argument over requisition forms. At least, that's the way it had started out. Up until that point, he'd tried everything he could think of to convince her to give him a chance. That protocol didn't factor into their feelings for each other. At times, she seemed to waver. Seemed to want a relationship just as much as him. But then that shell would close over her again. She'd be as distant as ever, giving him a menial task to do as she made her escape to the safety of her office. That's what he'd assumed the boiler was. Another way to keep him out of her way while she put more distance between them.
Ray couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Look Benny, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking of anyone but myself again, and because of that, Thatcher's in here. If I could take it back again, I would. Despite what you say, I know you have feelings for her."
Ben stared at him, then blinked. Had he heard him right? "Ray..."
"No, let me finish. I know you had things to do at the Consulate. And all I was doing was checking out a perp. I could have done it alone. But I didn't want to. Ok? I..." Making the confession wasn't easy for him, and the Italian stood and started pacing as he talked.
"Ray, it wasn't your fault." Ben assured him, astonished that he'd even think such a thing.
Ray stopped and turned to look at him. "Then who's fault was it? I'm the one that dragged you out, telling you that it was important and that I needed your help. It didn't matter that you told me you had to check out the boiler. What did I tell you? It wasn't going anywhere? That it 'wouldn't take long' ? Who else am I supposed to blame?" Ray's rant was cut off when Fraser quietly spoke.
"Me."
Stunned silence followed the simple confession.
"What? How could you think this was your fault. You weren't the one who-"
"I was the one who didn't follow an order from my commanding officer. And because of that, she's laying near death in this hospital." His voice raised with the self loathing he felt. "I wasn't there for her. I'm a disgrace to the R.C.M.P." he stood and stared at Ray hard, then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Knowing what he had to do, he opened them and turned towards Meg. Leaning over, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and gently caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry, Meg. Sorry for a lot of things." He whispered. After a moment, he stood and started to walk out of the room.
"Where do you think you're going?" Ray asked, not sure about the change he'd seen in his friend.
Ben looked at the stetson in his hand, then decisively placed it on his head. "To turn myself in."
Ray stormed out of the hospital room after his friend. Fraser was crazy! He had to be. He caught up with him just as Fraser entered the stairwell and grabbed his arm. "Are you crazy? Turn yourself in for what? You didn't cause this to happen to Thatcher. It was an accident." Ray stressed, hoping to talk sense into
his friend before he threw his career down the toilet.
Fraser yanked his arm free and started down the steps. In desperation, Ray decided to lie. "She's awake, Fraser!" 'That got his attention,' he thought as the mountie stopped walking. "She woke just as you left the room. Heard the whole thing. She told me to tell you to come back to the room."
Fraser looked up at him with a combination of hope and wariness. "She isn't awake." He finally stated, but his voice lacked conviction.
"She told me that if you didn't want to come back, that I was to order you back there." Ray bluffed, hoping he was convincing enough. He had no idea what he was going to do once they were back in the room, if Fraser would go back to the room, but Fraser needed to at least wait until she was awake before throwing his life away. When Fraser still seemed unsure, Ray took a deep breath and went for the kill. "She's still your commanding officer. Are you going to disobey her?" Again. The word hung tangibly in the air between them, as if he'd spoken it out loud.
The pain in his friends eyes all but made him confess to the ruse, but he changed his mind when Fraser started walking back up the steps. He could tell the Mountie was nervous when his steps faltered as they neared her room. Ray braced himself as Ben entered the room. He decided to wait in the hallway. It wouldn't take long for him to come back out.
The door opened and Ray stared guardedly at his friend, not knowing what kind of reaction he'd have. Pissed as all hell he knew, but beyond that? When Fraser offered him a small smile, his puzzlement must have shown on his face.
"She was asleep again by the time I got in there."
Ray didn't know whether or not to admit to the ruse. He finally settled on a one syllable answer. "Oh."
After another pause, "Are you OK?" Ray added.
"Yes. Would you do me a favor and bring me a change of clothes, and perhaps my shaving kit? I want to be here for her when she wakes up again."
Ray nodded. "Sure Benny. I can do that."
When Fraser smiled at him, then went back into the room, Ray continued to stare at the door for a moment, then ran a hand through his cropped hair. Shaking his head, he hoped Thatcher really would wake soon, then everything could go back to the way it was. A big TYK going out to Janice for making me delve into certain issues more than I had thought to. (all punctuation errors are my own, to cuddle and raise) btw, if this comes thru twice, it's because yahell is eating posts, then spitting them back out later.
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Ray shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair. He knew the drill. He'd been around Internal Affairs enough to know when someone was trying to shake him. Make him slip up. Of course, the Canadian version of IA was nothing compared to Chicago's department, but still. It unnerved him that his statement would either make or break his friend. He frowned at how comfortable the two Canadian officers had made themselves in Thatcher's office. He'd never really spent any time in it himself, but he knew she wouldn't be too pleased to know they'd all but taken over.
He wished Fraser was here. It worried him what they were putting his friend through. Hell, he was more worried about what Fraser was putting himself through. So much had happened in the past week and a half it almost seemed surreal. The last time he'd managed to reach him was three days ago, and Ray was relieved he'd been able to tell him Thatcher was awake. He was also thankful for the bad connection, so he didn't have to go into too much detail about her condition. A throat cleared and brought him back to the present.
"I've already told you what happened." He gruffly replied, not trying to hide his irritation.
A skinny man with fish breath, Inspector Hackensaw was his name, leaned over the table. "Why don't you tell us one more time." The other man hadn't said a word since Ray entered the room.
Ray sighed. If they wanted to play the game, he'd play it. "Like I said before. I went to the Consulate to get Fraser. We were working on a case and I had a lead on a perp."
Hackensaw interrupted. "Does he normally leave his duties at the Consulate to help you with *your* police work?"
Ray was being goaded, they both knew it. They were playing good cop/bad cop. It was a no brainer which part Fish Breath had.
"Constable Fraser was assigned as a liaison to the Chicago Police Department. He was my partner."
"Your unofficial partner." Hackensaw stated.
"Yes."
"Continue."
Ray was about to snap at the idiot that if he'd not been interrupted in the first place, there'd be no reason for him to have to 'continue'. Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth but kept his face neutral. Once he felt back in control, he leaned back in the chair and gave them a lopsided smile. As Fraser would say, 'kill them with kindness'.
"As I was saying, I got a lead on a perp, and asked Fraser to come with me to check it out. He told me about the boiler." Ray paused, then continued. "But I convinced him it could wait until later."
"Even though his commanding officer had instructed him to see to it, since it had been making odd noises?"
"The perp was more important. We'd been looking for a lead for weeks! And boilers make noises all the time. Besides, Fraser's not a plumber. What could he have done anyway?" Ray came back. He could feel the man getting under his skin, like a maggot. He wouldn't let them see his irritation though. He was determined. Ray's face reflected calm assurance. 'Damn it, Fraser!' he thought, 'if you'd just have listened to me, we wouldn't have to go through this.'
"He could have called one." Hackensaw smoothly replied. "What happened next?"
Ray's hands clenched into fists as they sat on his lap out of view. He just needed to remain calm, he reminded himself.
"We checked out the perp, and I brought Fraser back to the Consulate. No sooner did we get into the building then there was a loud humming noise. Before I knew what was happening, Fraser ran into the kitchen. I started after him, but when I got to the kitchen it was empty. That's when I saw the basement door open. I ran over. Fraser was running up the stairs, pulling Inspector Thatcher with him. That's when the first explosion hit."
"The whole building shook, I was thrown to the ground. Windows exploded, it was total chaos. By the time I got up and made it to the basement, there was nothing but smoke and water everywhere. The steps were half gone and Fraser was holding onto the Inspector with one arm while trying to hold onto the top step. I helped get them out of the basement and he took her outside while I called 9-1-1. He then instructed me to get towels and wet them down with cool water from the fridge."
"When I got back outside, he was giving her rescue breaths. We put the towels on the burns we could see. That's when the second explosion occurred. He covered her with his body. About that time the Fire Department and Ambulance showed up."
"Fraser and I ran back inside to make certain the Consulate was empty. Since it was after five everyone was supposed to be gone, but he wanted to make sure. No one else had been in the building."
Hackensaw folded his arms across his chest, frowning. "When you say the basement was full of 'water', was it cold water?"
Ray eyed the man. He couldn't really be that stupid, could he? What? A boiler explodes and he's asking if the water was cold? He leveled him with an even look. "No."
"Would you say the water was hot?" he continued.
Ray glanced down at his hands, the angry red blotches reminding him of the searing heat from the steam. Not that he would be able to forget that, or the water that had been still boiling as it poured across the floor and marked the walls.
"I wouldn't want to go swimming in it, if that's what you mean." He eluded.
"That's not what I asked." Hackensaw pressed.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes it was hot! What kind of an idiot are you?" He snapped. "A boiler exploded," he said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully as if that would be the only way they could understand it. "What do you think the water's going to be?"
The man who hadn't spoken frowned, and scribbled something in a note pad. Fish Breath chose to ignore the outburst, but Ray could have sworn he saw a small smile on his lips. It left just as quickly making him wonder if he'd seen it at all.
"Why was the Inspector in the basement?" Hackensaw asked.
"How the hell should I know?" Ray ground out. As far as he was concerned this interview was over. He went to stand but changed his mind when the silent man wrote something again. He had to stand up for Fraser. God knew the man wouldn't stand up for himself. That thought alone made him want to tear into Fraser, but seeing the feral look in Hackensaw's face, his thoughts once again changed to protecting his friend.
"He did everything in his power to keep her safe. He covered her body with his, did you get a look at him? He's burned too!"
Hackensaw picked up a file and skimmed the contents, then turned back to Ray. "You were also hurt weren't you, Detective Vecchio?" he asked. A pit sank to the bottom of Ray's stomach. He knew where this was leading. They didn't just want to get Benny for Thatcher's injuries, they wanted to nail him to the wall with everything they could.
Ray shrugged. "No. Not really. I'm a police officer, it's part of the job."
"But you were treated for minor burns, and cuts." He read from the file. Ray silently cursed Welsh for insisting he go to the hospital to be checked out.
Ray didn't answer, and Hackensaw sighed. "We're finished, for now."
Ray stood and snatched his coat from the back of his chair. He turned when he reached the door. "He saved her life. We both know it. He got her out before the second explosion."
Hackensaw didn't bother to glance at him, continuing to skim the file as he answered. "Had he done his job, Detective, there wouldn't have been any explosions to begin with. But that's not for us to decide, now is it?"
Ray slammed the door on the way out.
"Fifty-three thousand, two hundred fifteen dollars and thirty-five cents. American. That's the estimate of damage the boiler caused to the Consulate. The basement's demolished, the older part of the building that used the boiler heat is damaged. Every room with a radiator needs to be repaired. It's a wonder no one else was hurt, Constable."
Ben swallowed as he focused on a spot on the wall, doing his best to not let any emotion show. Deputy Commissioner Charles Underhill sighed and stood, coming around his desk to lean against it.
"Relax, Ben."
Ben's shoulders didn't sag, but he looked at his father's old friend directly.
"You certainly have gotten yourself into a mess this time, haven't you?" he asked, shaking his head as he tossed the file on the desk in front of him. Charles leaned against the desk and folded his arms, studying the younger man for a moment. In a gentler voice, he asked, "How is she?"
Ben sighed and rubbed a knuckle across his brow, allowing his posture to relax. "I'm not certain, Sir. I spoke with Ray a few days ago. He said she's awake now, but doesn't have a recollection about the incident."
Charlie nodded. "Well, that's to be expected with the trauma of the accident and the concussion. It's probably temporary."
Ben cleared his throat. "That's what Ray says. Or at least what he says the doctors' say. I'd feel... Well..." He straightened up again. "I know I've been temporarily relieved of duty pending a Fitness Review Board hearing. If I could go back to Chicago though, see for my... I mean, I could wait for the Board to convene from there, couldn't I?"
"Ben, you know as well as I do that when a person's under review, they can't travel outside of the country. Hell, I don't even think they'll let you out of Ottawa just yet."
"But the incident did, technically, happen on Canadian soil. Since the Consulate is considered a part of Canada I wouldn't really be leaving the country."
Charles shook his head. "I don't think I can make this work. There are a lot of people watching this case, Ben. People more influential than myself.
Ben's eyes closed briefly. When he opened them, he gave a small nod. "I understand."
Charles placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "She's going to be all right, Ben. If it'll help, I'll call the hospital myself. Since I outrank her, it can be an official call. I'll find out how she's really doing, okay?"
Ben sighed, relieved somewhat that he'd have accurate information regarding her condition. Though Ray didn't say it, he could tell his friend had been holding something back. Since then, his imagination had been running unchecked, reliving the afternoon at the Consulate, imagining her injuries greater than what he'd seen; even. imagining her dead. A shudder went through him at the thought.
It was hard enough to keep the demons at bay when he slept. Slept. He almost snorted in contempt at the thought. If lying awake for hours on end, worrying, then falling into a fitful nightmare before waking again could be called 'sleep', then he'd been sleeping.
"Ben? Are you all right? I know you were also hurt." Underhill's concern made Fraser feel guilty. Ben knew he'd deserved everything he'd gotten. He only wished he could have spared Meg her pain as well.
"I'm fine. I, uh, think I'll take a walk. Clear my head," Fraser suggested as he waved a hand inconsequentially in the air. He had to get away from the concerned look on the other man's face.
"That's a good idea. Give you some time to think. The fresh air will do you good."
Ben left the office, and Charles sat down at his desk with a heavy sigh. Buzzing his secretary, he asked her to get Mercy Hospital in Chicago on the line for him. Meg pushed the button on the rail of the hospital bed and slowly brought herself into a half-sitting position. She winced as the bed shifted against her bandages, a small tear escaping her eye. She was in pain, and tired, and bored out of her mind. And worst of all, everyone treated her as if she were made of glass. They'd even refused to give her any details of the accident that put her in the hospital to begin with!
She'd woken three days ago, at least, she thought it had been three days, to find herself trapped in the hospital. She had tried to be patient while the doctor asked her which day it was. Did she know the date. Who the current president was. What street the Consulate was located on. When she went to answer him, she discovered then she couldn't speak. It was just one of the injuries she found she had from whatever had put her in the hospital to begin with. The doctor had her write her answers down on a pad, then frowned as he read the answers.
Over the past few days bits and pieces were coming back to her in a jumble. They didn't make sense. She wasn't sure what she'd dreamed and what was real. She blamed that on the pain medication they continued to pump into her IV.
The only thing she could clearly remember before waking up in the hospital was eating a bagel with cream cheese for breakfast with a glass of orange juice before leaving for the Consulate. Of course, she mused, that could have been a different day entirely.
Her throat burned as if it was on fire. She couldn't ever remember having a sore throat that bad in her life, not even when she'd had strep as a child. Meg closed her eyes against the brightness of the room, hoping to make the throbbing in her head recede.
Meg wondered where Fraser was. She thought he had been in the room with her, but that part must have been a dream. When she woke, she'd been alone. Of course it was a dream! She snapped at herself. That was the only explanation for her thinking he'd held her in his arms, kissed her lips gently, told her he'd be there for her and loved her.
She sighed as she tried to shift without causing herself too much pain. How many times had she had similar dreams, just to be disappointed in the morning?
A knock on the door brought her out of her musings. "Inspector Thatcher?"
She eyed the newcomer as he came into the room. The man looked to be about 45 years old, and was wearing a three piece suit in navy blue. She critically looked over his neat haircut, and the way he kept is posture ramrod straight. The look on his face was dispassionate, business like. She immediately ruled out some type of hospital employee. So far everyone of the staff who came into her room all had a look of sympathy about them.
That also ruled out counselor. For a moment she thought he could have been in billing, or insurance, but since he held no forms or briefcase, she dismissed that idea just as quickly as it came. That only left one choice. He had to be here on official business and she'd yet to meet an officer on this side of the border who didn't look like a stereotypical television cop on some crime show.
He was clearly R.C.M.P. She wondered why he was there.
"I'm Inspector Lombardi. Ottawa sent me to stand in for you while you recover."
'Of course'. But why did they send someone so soon? She knew that if she were to be incapacitated for a long period of time, it was Standard Operating Procedure to call in a replacement. But for anything short term, the Deputy Liaison Officer could handle the Consulate. She wasn't planning to be here any longer than she had to. Just where was Fraser anyway?
Meg tried to speak and immediately regretted the decision. She closed her eyes and fought for breath. Finally feeling back in control, Meg motioned for the pad and pen on the tray table.
Her eyelids started to droop and she used all her will to keep them open. She wouldn't look incapable in front of a colleague. Despite the fact she was in the hospital, she was still in command of the Consulate and she would not have this temp report to Ottawa and tell them she was incapacitated. She wasn't certain how well she was covering, but Meg could only hope he'd finish this visit soon. She could barely keep her eyes open. Meg fought the pain medication as she watched the man.
Inspector Lombardi quickly brought it over to her and placed the pen in her good hand. The other was completely bandaged. Meg wrote shakily, but Inspector Lombardi had no trouble reading the simple question.
'Where's Fraser?'
Instead of answering right away, he studied her face. "The doctors say you don't have any memory of the incident. Has that changed at all?"
Meg glared at him, wanting to yell at him to just answer the damned question! Apparently, her glare wasn't working the way it normally did. Ok, she'd answer his question, but then he'd better start answering hers.
Meg shook her head 'no'.
"I'm sorry, Inspector, but I've been instructed to not discuss any details with you concerning the incident. There will an investigator from Ottawa in tomorrow or the next day to speak with you. I just wanted to check on you and introduce myself. Not to worry, I'll take good care of the Consulate until you return."
Meg could feel her eyelids drooping heavily and tried to fight the feeling. She had more questions now than before. Why would Ottawa be sending an investigator? Just want was going on? There was only one person she could count on, and trusted, to give her the answers she needed. She picked up the pad and jerked it in his direction. 'Where's Fraser?'
Inspector Lombardi looked at her with pity, which made her angrier, even as his demeanor caused an alarm to go through her at the thought of something happening to her Constable. Was he involved in the 'incident' too? Dear God, what if he was badly hurt? It would explain why he hadn't come to visit her. He could be in that very hospital and she wouldn't even know it. Her mind began to wander and she tried to fight it.
What if he had died?
Her breath caught at the thought causing her to choke, then the pain came again. She tried to focus on the man before her but she couldn't seem to make her body obey. If only she wasn't so tired.
Her hand dropped slowly to the bed as her eyes closed against her will. No, damn it! Answer my question! Where is he? Is he alright?' her mind screamed as she sank back into oblivion.
Ray walked up the steps to the consulate and had to step aside as a man in white overalls carried a ladder out the door. Shaking his head at the man's rudeness, he took off his sunglasses and stepped inside.
The lobby was filled with three more workers. One was repairing a rather large hole in the wall, and the other two were working on a radiator. He could also hear sounds of repairs coming from different parts of the building. The floor of the lobby was covered with tools, replacement parts, and broken glass from the chandeler. The wood floors were discolored in large streaks and spots and Ray knew the floor would have to be stripped down and repaired also.
He wasn't quire sure *why* he was there, but knowing it probably had something to do with missing his best friend, he chose not to analyze it.
"Oh my! Oh dear..." Turnbull fretted as he picked his way through the lobby carrying an armload of flies. When the tall mountie spied Ray, he stopped. "Detective Vecchio! What a pleasure to see you again. What brings you to Canada?"
Ray shrugged. "I just wanted to see how everything was going." He looked around. "So, they finished their investigation?"
"Oh, yes indeedy! Inspector Lombardi authorized the repairs to start yesterday. The work should be done in two weeks." Turnbull shifted the files to get a better grip on them, then almost dropped them. Ray leaned in and grabbed a few that Turnbull couldn't reach.
"Thank you, sir." Turnbull nodded for Ray to follow him and headed towards Thatcher's office. The farther up the steps they went, the less destruction he saw until it looked like the upper part of the Consulate hadn't been touched by the explosions. Outside the door, Turnbull deposited his heavy load onto Orvitz's desk, beside three other identical stacks, with a sigh. He then took the files from Ray and added them to the stack.
"What are all these for?" Ray asked, curious.
"I'm trying to locate the boiler maintenance schedule. The insurance company needs the information and Inspector Lombardi wanted it yesterday." Turnbull seemed upset as he sat down and pulled a file from the top of one pile and started to go through it.
Ray looked at the computer sitting on the desk. "Don't you guys ever use that thing?" He gestured towards it, and Turnbull looked at the computer, then him.
"Oh yes, all of the Consulate's records are kept on disk, and also in the hard drive. We keep the paper files as backup."
"Then *why* are you going through all the trouble to sift through the files?"
Turnbull sighed, then leaned closer as if someone might overhear him. "I know a mountie should be prepared for everything, and I try," he took a deep breath as if admitting this was difficult for him, "but I can't seem to find what I'm looking for when I use it. I wish Constable Fraser was here." He wistfully added, as if having his hero there would make everything better.
Ray tried to swallow, but it was difficult. "Yeah well, he'll be back soon enough."
"Oh, do you really think so, sir?" Turnbull's face lit up at the thought.
"You bet. This wasn't Fraser's fault and they know it."
Turnbull nodded. "I never thought it was, sir."
Ray sighed. "You don't have to keep calling me sir, Turnbull."
Turnbull's expression sobered then. "I know. It just makes me feel like he's still here."
Ray knew exactly how the tall mountie was feeling and nodded. He looked down and ran a hand over his hair. "How's the Inspector doing?"
"Inspector Thatcher, sir? Inspector Lombardi says she's doing well. I'm hoping I'll be able to visit her soon. I used a friend's kitchen and made her some homemade minestrone soup. I'm sure that will do the trick to perk her right up!"
Ray narrowed his eyes. "You haven't been to see her yet?" Not that hospitals were his favorite place either, but he thought her staff would have at least visited her since the accident.
Turnbull blushed with embarrassment. "I want to, Detective Vecchio, but I've been told to stay away until after the Fitness Review Board sends someone to speak with her."
"I thought they talked to her the other day?" Ray asked
Turnbull shrugged. "I really wouldn't know, si-- Detective. I'm not privy about those things." He glanced towards the door to Thatcher's office as he spoke and Ray thought he seemed nervous.
Lowering his voice, Ray spoke. "Is Lombardi still in there?"
Turnbull nodded and whispered "So's Inspector Hackensaw." He then picked up another file and started to sift through the contents. Ray watched as he repeated the process with three other files before speaking again.
"Where's whats-his-face? Isn't he Thatcher's lapdog? He could probably find what you're looking for."
Turnbull looked up with a frown. "Most of the consulate staff haven't needed to report to work since the Consulate is in such disarray. I haven't heard from Mr. Orvitz since the accident, though I did leave a message for him on his answering machine yesterday."
Ray thought about staying to help, but just then he heard Fish Breath bellow for Turnbull from behind the closed door. The last thing he needed was a run in with that particular Investigator. Ray watched as Turnbull practically leapt from his chair and stumbled past the desk to be of service, the one stack of files falling to the ground in the process. A brief look of irritation and frustration passed across the Mounties features as he glanced at the pile. It left as quickly as it came. The man really did look exhausted. Ray hoped that the suits would go back to Canada quickly so his friend could come home and things would get back to normal.
"I'll talk to you later, Turnbull." Ray said as he made his way slowly up the hallway to the front of the Consulate. The mountie didn't even turn around as he straightened his tunic and disappeared through the door. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he couldn't help himself and started down the smaller hallway towards Fraser's office, for once not caring if his shoes got scuffed by the debris that seemed to grow deeper by the footfall, or if he ruined another suit.
The door was open and Ray stepped into the room. The glass crunching beneath his feet sounded loud to his ears and he looked behind him before shutting the door. Had it only been a week since he'd been in here watching Fraser pack? Ray had been too preoccupied at the time to take a good look at the small room, but now he scanned it slowly.
There was hardly any light coming through the boarded up window. One of the file cabinets had been knocked over, the files scattered across the floor. The top of his friend's desk was warped with dried water stains. Papers clung to the desk as the words meshed together where the ink bled. The only thing that seemed to remain untouched was a small pencil cup near the edge of the desk, full of pencils. The desk lamp laid in shards at his feet and the metal radiator was imbedded into the side of the desk at an angle, instead of against the far wall where it normally sat. It was obvious no one had gotten around to cleaning in there yet.
Ray made his way to the closet and opened it. Nothing. It was then Ray realized that Fraser hadn't left any of his personal belongings. No clothes, no journals or books, it was as if Fraser hadn't even existed. Ray realized the bleakness that Fraser faced. The mountie didn't think he would be coming back, and packed accordingly.
to be continued in chapter 9 -- email and bug zzzaney for more!
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