Part II of Time and Changes

TIME AND CHANGES PART II

By Mary Ann Robinson

CONNECTIONS 

It all started with that phone call.

Ray Vecchio was sitting on the corner of his sister’s desk going over a file when the call came in on the Civilian Aid’s line. He wasn’t really paying any attention until he heard his sister’s exasperated response.

"Listen buddy. I told ya we don’t have a Stanley Kowalski working here…He goes by Ray…and if you insist on using his first name I can not be held responsible for his reaction…Got me Mister?"

Ray Vecchio instantly straightened and, spinning around snatched the phone from his surprised sibling.

"Yah…Hello…This is Kowalski’s partner…Can I help you?"

The thin Italian wasn’t the least surprised when he heard the sudden click. The line was dead.

"Ray!!! Just what is your problem?" Frannie’s voice conveyed her anger, but her eyes showed concern. She knew that her brother could be a pain in the neck, but something about his tight expression had her instantly on alert.

Ray stood motionless for what seemed like a long time. At last he reached out and placed a hand on Frannie’s shoulder. He shot a quick glance towards the Lieutenant’s office and then returned his troubled gaze to his sister.

"Welsh is gonna be downtown most a the day, right?" Upon receiving a quick nod from Frannie, Ray continued. "Shit!…Okay…Okay…Listen to me…and listen good. If you get any calls askin’ for Ray…and I mean any…You route ‘em to me…or to the Lieutenant, when he gets back…And you pass that around…Any calls for Ray come to me or Lieu….Got it?"

"Sure Ray…But…"

"No buts Frannie…just listen. This might be nothin’…or it might be somethin’…Right now I don’t know. We just can’t take any chances until I can find out." Vecchio gave his sister a reassuring smile as he continued. "You got any idea where Ray is right now?"

"He said he had to go down and see Mort for a minute." Frannie swallowed hard before she could continue. "Is Ray in some kinda trouble?"

"I don’t know Frannie. But I’m gonna find out." Ray ran his hand through his thinning hair. "I want you to get on the phone to Fraser. Tell him we need him down here right away…and bring Dief."

"What’s so important about him bringin’ Dief?"

"Trust me on this one Sis…That wolf can read Ray like a book.…And the Mountie can read the wolf." Ray smiled at his sister’s startled expression. "He may try to fool us…but he won’t be able to fool that hairy little lie detector."

The thin Detective then turned and started for the morgue to find his partner.

Ray’s mind was racing as he made his way down the stairs. When the call had come through to Frannie he had instantly been reminded of the conversation that had taken place in his mother’s kitchen all those months ago. He shook his head in wonder. It was hard to believe, but he had been home for just over a year now. The three men had survived a few bumpy times but their partnership had settled into a comfortable and productive alliance. The closeness that had developed had helped them each overcome obstacles that they may not have gotten past on their own. The icing on the cake was that they were very good at what they did. It was a good situation. Ray’s hot Italian blood began a slow boil at the idea that anyone would threaten that, or his friend.

Ray had noticed a certain nervousness in Kowalski the last few weeks. The thin blond had been unusually cautious and Vecchio was fairly certain that he hadn’t been getting enough sleep again. The one thing he had learned about his friend was that what he could hide from his friends during the day always seemed to catch up with him at night. Ray was afraid that now he had a pretty good idea of what the problem was. He just hoped that he could control his anger at Kowalski’s silence long enough to draw some information out of him.

When Ray entered the morgue he wasn’t too surprised to find his partner standing with his face to the wall. The thin blond was hunched down into his coat, his arms wrapped tightly across his chest. Mort was in the middle of a vivid description of what he had found out about their latest victim. An almost evil little smile creased the older man’s face, as he would glance periodically at the hunched form of his young friend.

"Mort. If you’re done tormentin’ my partner I really need ta borrow him for awhile."

"Can it Vecchio!…Mort’s just fillin’ me in on our John Doe."

"Oh…I guess that explains that evil grin on his face..huh?"

Ray spun around and shot a questioning glance at Mort only to spin back to the wall when all he had really been able to notice was Mort’s gore covered gloves.

"Ah..Geeze…Mort, that’s disgustin’."

Mort chuckled lightly as Vecchio stepped over to his partner and placing an arm across Ray’s shoulders, slid him along the wall and out the door.

"Bye boys."

Once in the hall Kowalski gave himself a shake and turned towards his partner.

"What gives?"

Vecchio gave Ray a long appraising look.

"Frannie just got a call at her desk. Someone looking for Stanley Kowalski." Vecchio had to give his friend credit. The slight flicker that crossed his partner’s face was gone so quickly that if he hadn’t been ready for it he would have missed it.

"So?…Who was it?"

"That’s just it Ray…As soon as I took the phone and said I was your partner…the line went dead."

"Probably just one of my snitches…You know how it goes? If they can’t talk to me they just hang up and call back later." Kowalski gave a quick shrug and headed back for the squadroom.

Vecchio let his partner get to his desk before he pressed the issue. He was hoping that Fraser would show up soon. One of the changes that he had noticed in the thin blond over the last year was his volatility level. Fraser had told him that he had seemed to lose much of it after the beating, but it had slowly been returning. Although the Mountie often assured him that it was no where near what it once was it was still a factor to be reckoned with. The one thing that Vecchio had learned was that once Ray reached his boiling point he was not an easy man to reason with, and right now they needed answers.

"Listen to me Ray. I haven’t forgotten us sharin’ our war stories. You told me you had someone call way back then. Now if somethin’s going on I want you to tell me."

"Ain’t nothin’ ta tell."

"Oh..So I suppose you let your snitches call ya Stanley now? Hell ya threaten to shoot us for callin’ ya that!"

"I said…Ain’t nothin’ ta tell."

The next half-hour was spent with Vecchio gently trying to get his reluctant partner to co-operate. He was now convinced that something wasn’t right. Only when his anger was beginning to show did the thin Italian turn on his heels and walk away. He knew that if he pushed too hard without backup his friend was liable to blow up completely and stalk out of the precinct altogether. That was one thing that he wanted to avoid. If Ray was in any danger he wanted to keep him within sight.

Vecchio ambled over to Frannie’s desk mumbling to himself. His sister looked up and gently bit her bottom lip. She knew that something was wrong, and she was worried.

"Listen Frannie. Do me a favor. Get a call through to Welsh. Tell him we need him back here as soon as he can make it." Ray ran his hand through his hair and shot a quick glance back towards his partner. "Tell him it concerns Kowalski…that’s all."

Frannie gave her brother a concerned look and gently nibbled her fingernail. "Should I tell him it’s an emergency?"

"Nah…Tell him it’s not an emergency…but it’s damn important."

As Frannie reached for her phone their attention was drawn to the squadroom door and the entrance of the Mountie and his wolf. Neither of the Vecchios noticed the puzzled look they were getting from the Detective that was returning a file to the cabinet beside Frannie’s desk. As Jack Huey straightened, he carefully shifted his gaze from Vecchio’s retreating back, to the thin blond sitting across the room hunched over his desk.

For the next hour Detective Jack Huey quietly observed the scene playing out before him. He watched the three partners engage in a hushed, but sometimes angry debate. He didn’t fail to notice the many worried glances that Frannie was directing their way. It was obvious to him that Ray Kowalski was, in someway, the center of the controversy. Even from across the room he could see the defensive set of the thin blonde’s shoulders, and the concern and anger radiating off his two agitated partners. Dief had settled at Ray’s feet, his head on the Detective’s lap. The wolf would turn his gaze from one man to the other but always returning it to linger on the face of his embattled pack mate.

It was no surprise to Jack when Welsh came barreling into the squadroom and straight over to the gathering at Ray’s desk. After just a short time the Lieutenant turned for his office, the three partners and the wolf slowly following in his wake. The seriousness of the entire situation was driven home when after closing the door the Lieutenant moved around his office snapping the blinds shut.

Jack sat quietly at his desk for only a moment and then jumped to his feet. He had to find his partner.

The tension in the Lieutenant’s office was as thick as he could ever remember it. For the last several minutes the three friends of Stanley Raymond Kowalski had tried every line they could think of to try and get the thin blond to open up. The only response to be gained from the hunched form taking up space in the hard straight-backed chair was an occasional mumble to the effect that there was ‘nothing to tell’. It was that lack of response that finally started getting through to the Lieutenant. This was not normal. If there was nothing to what Vecchio was suggesting Kowalski would have been flying around the office with his mouth going as fast as his feet. There was enough of the old Kowalski still in residence to have been well past his flash point, and yet there he sat. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest and his gaze would only leave the floor on the rare occasion of throwing a warning look at one of his inquisitors.

The Lieutenant eased himself back onto the edge of his desk and focused his attention on his embattled friend. The fear and apprehension that flashed in Ray’s eyes at Vecchio’s reassertion of the need to get his partner out of town or in protective custody began to allow the pieces to fall into place.

"Okay…Okay…That’s enough."

"But Lieutenant…."

"Vecchio, I said that’s enough." The older man levered himself off the desk and jamming his hands deep into his pockets began a slow circuit of the room. Fraser and Vecchio watched with barely contained frustration. Ray remained as he was, only lowering his hands when Dief quietly went to his friend’s side and laid his head on the blonde’s knee. Welsh came to a stop behind Ray’s chair. He carefully placed his hands on his friend’s tense shoulders.

"Relax Detective." Welsh’s big hands absently kneaded the knotted muscles of Ray’s shoulders and neck as he continued. "I think I can see what part of the problem is….so…this is what we are going to do." The big man gave the side of Ray’s neck a light slap as he moved around to settle on the corner of his desk. One large hand remained on Ray’s shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze. "As of right now we are going off record. Anything said…is said between friends. You’re not cops…and I’m not your boss. And Ray…I want you to understand that we won’t do anything about what you tell us that you don’t want us to do."

"But Lieutenant!!!"

"Excuse me Vecchio…but didn’t I tell you to shut up? You guys have spent the last hour trying to find out just what the hell is going on and you aren’t any closer to getting’ to the bottom of it than you were."

The Lieutenant returned his attention to Kowalski. "Now you listen to me Ray…I don’t know what all this is about…but I want to…and if I have to put aside the fact that I’m a Lieutenant in the Chicago Police Department…and focus on the fact that I’m your friend…A friend that wants ta help…Then that’s what I’ll do. You gotta trust that I meant what I said. I promise that I won’t do anything about what you tell me, that you don’t want me to do…. And Fraser…Vecchio…If you can’t make the same promise then I want ya out of this room right now. Do I make myself clear?"

It was the hopeful glance from his blond partner that brought an end to Vecchio’s planned complaint.

A heavy silence fell on the room as Fraser and Vecchio weighed their options. The two friends locked eyes and though no words were spoken, seemed to carry on a complete conversation. At last, and almost in unison, they both gave a nod of their heads.

Kowalski silently scanned the faces of his three friends. At last he settled his gaze on Welsh.

"So…I got your word that if I tell ya what I know…You won’t use it against me?"

Welsh couldn’t hide his smile. The kid sounded like a criminal looking for a deal. He held up three fingers in the appropriate fashion.

"Scouts honor."

Ray shifted his gaze to his partners.

"That go for you guys too?"

Fraser and Vecchio looked at each other for a long moment before Vecchio responded for both of them.

"We got just two conditions…then it’s a deal." Vecchio stepped closer to his partner and leaning over put a warning finger in his face. "Number one. If it is what I think it is, you do not go anywhere without either me or Benny with ya, and number two. You lose your head and start actin’ stupid?…The deal is off."

Ray dropped his gaze and absently rubbed Dief’s head. After a full agonizing minute he returned his gaze to his partner and gave him a tentative nod.

"Deal…But there really ain’t much ta tell."

"Ah Geeze…Here we go again."

"No…Really…I don’t even know if this thing is serious or if the guy is just tryin’ ta play with my head. Which if he’s tryin’ ta play with my head he’s doin’ a pretty good job of it ‘cause I ain’t got enough sleep in the last week ta keep my turtle goin’…a course I really don’t know how much sleep a turtle needs…’cause…well…My turtle don’t get much exercise anyway so I…."

Fraser quickly stepped up to Ray’s side and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Ray…Ray…Ray!" Once the thin blond looked up, the Mountie continued. "You are blithering Ray."

"Oh…Guess so…Sorry."

"Don’t think a thing about it Ray…Under the circumstances you are allowed."

"Oh…Okay…Thanks."

"You are welcome."

"Ah Geeze."

The Lieutenant and Vecchio exchanged an exasperated look. The older man slid himself off his desk and moved over in front of Kowalski.

"Let’s just start from the beginning…And don’t even think about leavin’ anything out. Do you understand me Detec…Ray?"

Ray graced the Lieutenant with a lopsided grin and began his story.

"Okay…well…It started two weeks ago. I got a couple a calls…ya know…the normal type threat thingy….Wouldn’t a really thought much of it but they kept makin’ it a point ta use my first name…Like it was really significant…"

"You get any of these on tape?"

"Yah…all but the first two…They ain’t gonna help much. Every call’s the same…but it’s always somebody different…almost sounds like a party joke or somethin’…The one guy gets so tickled he can’t hardly get through it… Anyway then Sunday night I ran out ta that little grocery store a block over from my place…And he stopped me in the parkin’ lot."

"WHO?"

The combined force of the exclamation nearly blew the thin blond out of his seat.

"Geeze you guys!…Don’t do that." Ray looked at the concerned faces of his friends and released a long sigh. "Well…Ya see…Here’s where it gets really crazy….’Cause the reason the guy stopped me was ‘cause he wanted ta be sure that I know who’s behind it…All the threats and shit. He told me he wouldn’t lay a hand on me…It would be my word against his…and I could never prove a thing…But when my time came…he..uh…Well, he wanted to be sure that I knew that he was the reason. He…uh…He said I was gonna die…might be next week…maybe next month…or even next year…I’d just have ta sweat it out…But…When the time came it was gonna be slow….He wants ta be sure I got time ta realize that I’m dyin’…and that he’s why."

Fraser, Welsh and Vecchio all registered their feelings in different ways. The stoic Mountie regarded his friend with a look of compassion and concern. Vecchio mumbled a few choice words through clenched teeth while the Lieutenant jammed his hands in his pockets and paced across the room trying to rein in his anger. Welsh was the first to return to the matter at hand.

"So…You’re sayin’ you know the guy?"

"Yah I do…And I’m afraid…ah….You know him too."

The Lieutenant could read the apprehension on his Detective’s face. For some reason his stomach turned a quick flip. He had a sudden feeling that this was going to be a real mess.

"Well…Put us out of our misery Detective. Who is it?’

Ray had to force a swallow past the lump in his throat.

"Off the record?…And between friends?"

"Yah Ray…I gave ya my word didn’t I?"

"Yah…Ya did." Ray slowly ran a hand through his spiky hair. When he finally spoke, Welsh had to strain to hear him. "Carrington…From the 1-7."

"James Carrington!…Lieutenant James Carrington?" Ray watched as the color drained from the older man’s face. He then dropped his gaze to his lap.

"Yah…Sorry…I know he’s a friend a yours."

"Whoa…Whoa right there." Welsh straightened and took a deep breath. He ran a big hand over his craggy face as he studied the younger man before him. He had seen the look on Ray’s face. It was a combination of apprehension and shame. He could understand the apprehension, but he wasn’t going to allow the shame.

Ray looked up in surprise when the big man stepped nearer the chair and kneeling down on one knee, placed a big hand on his arm. He gave it a firm squeeze.

"You listen to me Ray. Once a month a bunch of us get together and play poker. That doesn’t make him my friend. It takes more than that to make a friendship. I’m a firm believer in the old line that if you can’t count your friends on just one hand you’re foolin’ yourself." As he continued Welsh pointed at Ray’s chest and gave it a couple of firm pokes. "It takes knowin’ a guy inside and out…through the good times and the bad…and it takes trust. I’ve seen you at your best…and I’ve seen you when things weren’t so good. There have been times when I wanted ta punch ya so bad my knuckles itched…but I would trust you with my life in a heartbeat. I know I ain’t the easiest guy to work for and there have been times when I got on ya pretty hard…but I’d hope that you could say the same thing about me."

Ray could read the truth of what was being said in the big man’s eyes. He quickly dropped his gaze in an effort to blink back the tears that had suddenly appeared. At some level it was a truth that he had been aware of for a long time, but to have it finally spoken hit him more deeply than he would have imagined possible. After a moment to compose his emotions Ray cocked his head towards the big man and gave him a small crooked smile.

"So…Whadda ya wanna hear?..That my knuckles have itched a few times too…or that I’d trust ya with my life?" Ray wasn’t to sure that there wasn’t just a little more moisture in the Lieutenant’s eyes than normal, but he didn’t look away. "I do ya know?…In fact I guess that’s what I’m doin’ right now…huh?"

"Damn right!" As he spoke the Lieutenant dropped his hand to Ray’s knee and used it to push himself back up to his feet, giving an extra squeeze before letting it go. "Getting’ too damn old for this shit."

"What the hell has Carrington got against you?" Ray Vecchio had been silent as long as he could stand. "Couldn’t be that North side gig…He’s still a cop!"

"Oh shit!" The three partners watched with concern as the blood drained from the Lieutenant’s face for the second time in fifteen minutes. "Are you sayin’ this whole thing has something to do with your undercover assignment on the North side? He wasn’t a part of that was he?…I mean…I didn’t know he was involved. Christ all mighty…I might have been the one to turn him on to you Ray. I know I’ve talked about you guys at those damn card games…I mean…Hell…We all talk about our guys and what’s goin’ on….and God knows you guys can provide some pretty interesting stories. Shit!"

"Don’t sweat it boss. It ain’t like I been hidin’." Ray graced the Lieutenant with one of his warmest smiles. "I made my mind up a long time ago…I was gonna play it cool for awhile…take the Vecchio gig to give the shit time ta settle, but after?….I ain’t gonna spend the rest of my life lookin’ over my shoulder."

"Is that why your standard dress code includes that high-dollar, lightweight vest?" Ray Vecchio was mad. Not just at Ray and his seemingly nonchalant reaction to the threats on his life, or at the people who would dare to threaten his ‘little brother’, but mostly at his own feelings of helplessness. It was a sad, but true fact that if someone wants you dead bad enough it can be very hard to avoid.

"I said I wasn’t gonna be lookin’ over my shoulder….I never said I was gonna be stupid." Ray understood Vecchio’s concern and he wanted to try and ease his partner’s mind. "Listen Ray…I ain’t runnin’ away from this thing…and I ain’t gonna hide. If I do that, it may never end….I ain’t gonna live my life like that. This guy has been patient enough to wait me out once…I got no doubts he would do it again. I am not gonna give up the life I got now to just keep on livin’. It wouldn’t be worth it."

Ray dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment and then slowly ran a hand through his blond spikes. When he looked back up into the Italian’s green eyes he continued in a voice that conveyed as much feeling as the words that he spoke.

"When I went undercover as Ray Vecchio my life sucked. It sucked so bad that there wasn’t anyone to miss the fact that Ray Kowalski was even gone. Look what I got now. I got two good partners and even better friends, a hell-of-a-boss, a Ma who loves me and a ready made family….Hell I even got Frannie ta pick on. I ain’t walkin’ away from that for anybody. I almost gave it up once before….But you guys wouldn’t let me…and I thank ya for that…But I ain’t about ta give it up now ‘cause a some slime ball that ain’t worth the powder it’d take ta blow him ta hell. And you can dot that…file it..and stick it in a box marked ‘done’."

All the anger drained from Vecchio’s eyes. He shot both Welsh and Fraser a glance that showed more affection than exasperation. "Bull headed little son-of-a…."

"Language Ray."

For the next hour the four men sat in the shuttered office and went over every detail of not only the threats and Carrington’s involvement, but a possible course of action as well. Although never indicted for any wrong doing Kowalski was sure that the man was dirty. They could just never find enough hard evidence to make anything stick.

James Carrington had been the golden boy of his academy class. He had made Detective, Detective Sergeant, and Lieutenant all in record time. He was on the fast track to great things. But after the investigation the people behind the scenes who had made things happen for him, suddenly abandoned him to languish in a position from which he would probably now retire. The social circles that had once welcomed him had turned their backs. Those who had once offered him their hands now only sought to distance themselves from his sullied reputation. The investigation had cost him his career hopes and a wife who had planned to climb the social ladder by his side. The entire affair had left him a bitter, broken man whose only focus was on his past glories and the life that he had lost.

Near the end of the hour the Lieutenant noticed that Ray’s participation had been on the decline. The thin blond had moved to a position at the end of the old couch along the one wall. The relief that came from sharing the information that had kept him on edge for the last two weeks had allowed the resulting exhaustion to finally show through.

The Lieutenant was in the middle of his evaluation of the messy situation with which they were being faced. Never changing his voice pattern he gained the attention of both Fraser and Vecchio and tipped his head towards their partner. Ray had his elbow on the arm of the couch, his head resting in his hand. His blue eyes were unfocused and aimed at some undetermined point across the room. His slack jaw suddenly erupted into a silent yawn, which was immediately followed by a sleepy slow motioned blink.

"All right gentlemen!…This is what we are going to do."

At the Lieutenant’s sudden change of volume and inflection Ray bounced up off the couch and swaying only slightly, focused his attention on his boss.

"Vecchio…You and Fraser get over to Ray’s apartment and get those phone tapes." The Lieutenant shot the pair a quick wink before he continued. "Kowalski…I want you to get those damn boots off."

"What?!!" Vecchio had to fight hard to suppress a chuckle at his partner’s shocked expression. "Why?…I …"

"Because..Detective…You’re gonna be spending the next hour or so on that couch and I don’t want you to mess up my expensive furniture with your dirty boots."

"I’m alright Lieu…I don’t need no…"

"Ya..Right. When you get the drool wiped off the side of your face I might just believe ya." When the thin blond nearly smacked himself silly in an attempt to remove the nonexistent slobber even Fraser cracked an amused smile. "For once in your life Kowalski you are not going to argue over a direct order. Do you understand?"

Without allowing any time for Ray to respond the Lieutenant suddenly turned serious as he spoke to Vecchio and Fraser. "Listen you guys…While you’re there?…Stop downstairs and pick up one of those anti-bug devices and give the place a good once over. Carrington isn’t stupid."

"Uh…That won’t be necessary Sir…I already got one a those things at home." All attention shifted to Kowalski. "It’s in the right hand top drawer of my desk. I checked the place last night. It was clean then…But you might wanna check it again."

"Well Detective…I gotta give ya credit…Carrington isn’t the only one who ain’t stupid."

Detective Jack Huey and his partner Tom had been silently observing the Lieutenant’s office. Jack had found Dewey in the break room and after filling him in on his suspicions the two friends had talked it over and had come to a decision. Although they could gain no insight from the suddenly tight-lipped civilian aid Jack was firmly convinced that Kowalski was in some kind of danger. When he saw the looks on the faces of Ray’s partners when they left the bullpen and caught the fact that the blond had remained behind, he was sure of it. Jack and Tom exchanged a small nod and made their way to the Lieutenant’s office.

After a quick tap on the door Jack and Tom solemnly entered.

"What can I do for you guys?" The Lieutenant stood behind his desk, a file held loosely in his large hands. Jack hid his surprise when he saw Ray sitting on the couch, one boot on and the other in his hand.

"We want in, Sir."

"Unless I’m mistaken Detective…You are in. Now. What can I do for you two?"

Jack looked over at Tom who gave him a reassuring nod. Jack then stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Listen Lieutenant. We don’t know for sure what’s going on…but we have a pretty good idea that Ray is in some kind of trouble…or danger…or something…and we want to help." Ray had risen from the couch and was watching the scene before him with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Jack turned to face the thin blond and continued. "We just want to help Ray. If you’ll have us."

Ray’s face registered his amazement as he turned his eyes to the Lieutenant. The big man smiled at the knowledge that for once Kowalski was at a loss for words.

Welsh carefully considered the two men before him.

"Listen you guys…We appreciate ya comin’ in here, but we really don’t know yet what’s gonna go down here." The Lieutenant roughly ran his hand over his craggy face. "I’m trustin’ you guys to keep this thing quiet…but you’re right. There has been a threat made against Kowalski. The problem is that in order to handle it in a way that is acceptable to all those involved…We may have to do a little colorin’ outside the lines…If ya get my meaning. If it backfires on us it could mean we all go up on charges. We can’t ask you guys to risk that."

"You ain’t askin’…We’re offerin’." For the first time Tom Dewey joined the conversation. "We’ve talked it over…and hell we don’t plan on bein’ cops forever. Right Jack?"

"That’s right Lieutenant…Our future is in comedy."

"Some how I can see that happenin’." Welsh then turned his attention to Ray. "Whadda ya think, Ray? Do you wanna trust these two clowns?"

Ray stood silently studying the faces of the two Detectives. Jack and Tom both understood the importance of the next few minutes. They hadn’t been blind to the changes that had occurred in Ray’s life, and they understood the complications in the Lieutenant’s simple question. That’s why Ray’s next comment came as no surprise.

"Why? You guys don’t owe me nothin’." Ray looked from the Detectives to the Lieutenant and then back. "Anyway this thing could get kinda messy. I mean…The guy doin’ the threatenin’ is another cop…and not just a Detective…If ya know what I mean."

"It doesn’t matter whose doin’ the threatenin’. I mean a threat’s a threat…Right?" Dewey took a tentative step towards the thin blond. No one was too surprised that though he never actually moved Ray seemed to pull back slightly. "We may not be big buddies…or even what ya’d call good friends…but…We would really like it if you could consider us at least just friends. I know you and I never really got along the greatest…but that’s just a personality thing…Hell…I can be as big a jack-ass as you can…At least that what Jack keeps tellin’ me. The thing is…inspite of the bein’ a jack-ass part, you’re a good guy…and a good cop…and I know that if I was the one bein’ threatened…you’d be right there ta help me…Right?"

Ray slowly nodded his head in reply…not really knowing what to think of the offer.

Jack, reading the uncertainty in Ray’s eyes, again spoke up.

"Listen to me Ray. That big round of crap you went through with the beating and all. We wanted to help, but we didn’t know what to do. So we did nothing. That wasn’t right." Jack dropped his embarrassed gaze to the floor. "Sometimes when a person does nothing, it gives the impression that they don’t care. That has never been the case. We should have done something…even if we felt awkward about it. Or said or did something a little stupid…at least you would have known that we were thinking about you…and that we cared about what you were going through." Jack looked back up into Kowalski’s piercing blue eyes. "We made ourselves a promise that we would never do that again. So no matter how stupid it sounds…or how hard it may be for you to believe us…We really do want to help. Will you trust us to do that?"

The Lieutenant held his breath. He more than anyone else in the room knew the weight of that question, and the formidable wall that would be breached if Ray agreed. The silence seemed to drag on forever as Ray carefully searched the faces of the men before him. Both Jack and Tom met that gaze with an unwavering resolve.

Finally Ray dropped his gaze to the floor. At last he looked towards the Lieutenant and gave a tiny nod.

"As long as they know what they’re gettin’ into….Hell…I guess we could keep ‘em around for comic relief…huh?"

Kowalski and Welsh spent the next several minutes bringing the new team members up to speed on the developments of the last two weeks.

Sometime later Fraser, Vecchio and the Lieutenant were huddled over a small tape recorder listening intently to the four messages that had been captured by Ray’s answering machine. Kowalski was right about the contents. All the messages were the same, as if they were being read off of a card. The one point with which they didn’t agree was that each message was by a different individual. Fraser was sure that there were only two different voices. The changes in background noise and even the subtle differences in the voices themselves would indicate that they were done at different times and from different locations, but after several careful listens the Mountie was sure that only two people were involved; a man and a woman.

Vecchio cast a quick glance toward the couch and his sleeping partner. Ray lay on his stomach, his face turned away from the room. The arm that hung over the edge of the cushions was resting on Dief’s back.

An untidy pile, consisting of a pair of black boots, a shoulder holster, and a black leather jacket could be seen just under the edge of an old worn blanket that the Lieutenant had dug out of the bottom of his cabinet and thrown over his Detective. For the Italian it was one more clear indication of just how tired his friend was. He had been asleep for almost two hours and hadn’t even moved. Despite his dangerous situation and the hushed, but bustling activity of the office the thin blond evidently was confident enough in the efforts of his friends to allow himself the much-needed rest. Vecchio smiled warmly at the realization.

They had just started the third tape again when Tom and Jack entered the office. Jack held the phone records that Frannie had gathered for them. The third tape was the one that Ray had mentioned earlier. The man reading the message was so tickled that he was struggling to get it read. His laughter echoing eerily in the shuttered office. Tom froze in his tracks listening intently to the taped laughter. Only Jack noticed his partner’s reaction.

"What is it Tom?"

All eyes turned to Jack’s partner.

"Play that again." Tom’s face was a study of concentration as he once more listened to the tape.

"I know that guy…I don’t believe it….But I’d know that laugh anywhere …Gee." A large smile broke out on Tom’s face as he happily looked at the group that surrounded him. "Terry Westerman…Born loser…but a good kid. You know the type. While I was up in the 1-6, I busted him every other week or so. I mean you knew the kid was never gonna amount ta anything…but you couldn’t help likin’ him."

"You’re sure Detective?"

"As sure as I am of my own name. The kid got tickled every time he got hauled in…probably nerves but he was always laughin’."

"And you know where we can find Mr. Westerman?"

"Well…It’s been awhile…but I’m sure I can find him. Hell everyone knows Terry." Tom suddenly turned serious. "Unless something really weird has happened to that kid in the last couple a years you can bet he thought this was all some kind of a joke or somethin’. Terry might be a loser…but there ain’t a mean bone in his body."

"That might very well be Detective…but the fact remains that he is now involved in threatening the life of a police officer." The Lieutenant slowly got up out of his chair. "I want you guys to go pick this kid up…and use your heads. If you have to talk to any of the cops in that district you keep your cards real close to your vests….If Carrington gets wind of any of this we could lose him…Understand?"

"Yes Sir." Tom and Jack gave a quick nod to the rest of the group and made their exit.

The next three hours seemed to drag. They had yet to hear anything from Jack and Tom, or Kowalski, who except for one small turn of his head, had yet to move. Fraser and Vecchio had found nothing in the phone records and with no other clues to go on were stymied…bored…and just plain worried.

When the phone finally rang everyone jumped, except Kowalski and the deaf wolf.

The Lieutenant listened carefully for only a few moments before hanging up the phone. He gave the two men before him a half-hearted smile and nodded towards their still sleeping partner.

"If this thing keeps movin’ along like this the little son-on-a-bitch is gonna sleep right through it. Jack and Dewey are bringing Westerman in now…It’s gettin’ messier by the minute…Now we got a Detective from the 17^th involved." As he spoke Welsh ushered the two men from his office and hung a hand made ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on his door. "I don’t know about you guys..but I am in dire need of some coffee. This is shapin’ up to be a long night."

The Lieutenant had been right. Tom and Jack had brought Westerman in shortly before 6:00 pm. It was just after 9:00 when the five exhausted men made their way back through the bullpen. They quietly entered the office each casting an almost jealous glance towards the very relaxed Detective who had been the catalyst behind this whole affair. The only noticeable difference in the scene was that now Ray was curled up on his side and Dief who had been forced to answer the call of nature almost two hours ago had, upon his return, worked himself up onto the couch and into the crook of Ray’s legs.

Welsh carefully studied his watch and then shot the group a bemused smile.

"Am I wrong gentlemen, or has that little shit been asleep for over nine hours?"

No one was surprised when Fraser spoke up first.

"Well actually Sir…If Ray went to sleep when you said that he did, he has now been asleep for eight hours…and…twenty-five minutes…give or take a minute or two." Fraser carefully straightened his tunic and addressed the Lieutenant in his most formal, please allow me to cover my partner’s butt, voice. "As you are well aware Sir, Ray has been under a great deal of stress lately, and I am willing to bet; not with money mind you, that this has probably been his longest stretch of good, uninterrupted sleep in at least two weeks. I would also like to remind you, Leftenant, that Ray was only following your specific orders and would have resisted them with even more vigor than he originally displayed had he been aware that it would have kept him away from this investigation for such an extended time."

Welsh gave his head an exaggerated shake and fought to hide a smile. The barely contained smirks on the faces of the others present finally registered with the Mountie who proceeded to blush a red to rival his tunic.

"Constable, you have missed your calling. You should have been a defense attorney. Of course with the partners ya got…you’ve had lots a practice." Fraser instantly dropped his embarrassed gaze to the floor and quickly rubbed his thumb along his brow. The Lieutenant stepped over to the Mountie’s side and gave him a quick slap on the back. "The question is Constable…Do we wake him up, so we can bring him up to speed, or do we leave him alone and start a little wager to see who can guess just how much longer the little son-of-a-bitch is gonna sleep?"

Ray Vecchio gave his red-faced partner a quick glance and then came to his rescue.

"Hell Lieu…He’s as safe here as anywhere…and there’s no way he would have slept this long if he didn’t really need it." As he spoke the Italian made his way towards the couch and carefully studied his friend. When he turned back to the others he had lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And with as much coffee as he drinks…I’ll bet $5.00 he won’t make it past mid-night."

A short twenty minutes later all bets had been laid. Welsh and the Duck boys had gone home, Fraser and Vecchio had found a couple of cots and had stretched out to relax….and Ray slept on.

Ray Vecchio was having a bad dream. In his dream someone was chasing his partners, but they were both laughing about it…and it was raining. When he was finally able to pry his eyes open, the first thing that registered in his foggy brain was that gargoyles really do have nice smiles. It wasn’t until his brain caught up with his vision that he realized that it wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t a gargoyle, but a thin blond Detective setting cross-legged on the top of a desk with a Styrofoam cup half full of water.

Fraser sat relaxed in a nearby chair. He had stripped off his tunic and his long legs were stretched out to full length, crossed at the ankles. His hands were clasped together over his stomach and were shaking from his attempt to suppress his laughter.

"Rise and shine cupcake." Kowalski unwound his long legs from the desk and smiled warmly towards his partner. "Fraser says you guys got some stuff ta tell me."

"Geeze Benny…Couldn’t ya let me sleep?" The thin Italian tried without much success to snuggle down into the hard cot. "You can tell him without me bein’ there…can’t ya?"

"Well Ray…Three heads are better than two and as you are well aware; our friend here does not do patience." As Vecchio finally struggled to a setting position the Mountie handed him a cup of steaming coffee. "You should be grateful to me for stalling him as long as I did. I was able to allow you almost three hours of sleep that you would have otherwise been denied."

"What time is it?" Vecchio rubbed his hand across his eyes and then suddenly came to life. "What time did he wake up? Who won?"

"It is now 4:30 AM…Ray woke up at 12:30…And I believe that would make Thomas Dewey the winner of the wager." Fraser shot Kowalski a smile as he continued. "It took Ray almost an hour to wake up enough for his patented impatience to make itself known and fortunately for you I was able to keep it successfully bridled until just a few minutes ago."

Fraser and Kowalski watched Ray study something out in his mind and then turn towards his blond partner.

"My God Ray…You slept almost twelve hours!…You must have a bladder the size of Massachusetts!"

"Hey what can I say….I was tired…And I got a hollow leg." Ray nodded towards the break room. "Come on pitter patter…we can talk over breakfast."

Thirty minutes later the three friends sat at a break table cluttered with the leftover wrappings of their vending machine breakfasts. Kowalski sat with his elbows propped on the table, his head in his hands. His partner’s expressions reflected their compassion. They had both been aware that Westerman’s story wouldn’t be easy for Ray to hear. Because of Carrington’s plan of revenge against their friend a young woman had died. It was a sad tale indeed.

An undercover Detective from the 17^th had approached Terry Westerman with a proposition. Make a couple of prank calls to a buddy at the 27^th and collect some top-notch heroin. Terry was aware of the rumors that Detective Marty Simpson had a nose for cocaine. Simpson had assured him that it was all in fun and since his ‘buddy’ was into blow as well there would be no repercussions.

Vecchio could remember the anguish in Westerman’s voice as he told of the deal and how it had cost him the life of his girlfriend, Susie Weller. Westerman admitted to the interrogating officers that he himself had been clean for the last several months: a fact of which Simpson was not aware. Westerman had figured it was a cheap way to supply his girlfriend. Everything was working out fine too…until that last call. Simpson had told him that this would be the last, and had even given them some cash to go along with the heroin. The happy couple had bought a pizza and a six-pack and returned to the apartment where Terry had even helped Susie to shoot up. She died in his arms just a short time later.

Terry Westerman was no fool. He instantly understood that they had been used and that the intention was that both of them were to be dead. He also understood that there was no way that he could go to the police. He had grabbed a few things from the apartment and had reluctantly deposited his beloved Susie on the steps of Cook County Hospital. He had hid out for a few days only returning to the apartment to collect what stuff he could to sell on the street. It was only dumb luck that had allowed the Duck boys to intercept Terry as he was crawling down the fire escape on what he had figured would be his last visit to his former home. Today he had planned to be on a train to Cleveland.

At last Kowalski looked up into the concerned faces of his friends.

"This whole thing really sucks…I mean…I know that girls dyin’ ain’t my fault, but if Carrington wants me, why couldn’t he just come after me?…I mean why drag all these other people in on it. Chicken-shit bastard." Ray slowly rose from the table and moved over towards the coffeepot. As he refilled all their cups he continued. "You can just about bet that Carrington knew Simpson was into the blow and was usin’ that against him… If Carrington meant it when he told me I could never prove anything you better believe it’s because there ain’t gonna be no one left to testify. I hope the poor schmuck realizes that"

"He does."

The three friends turned to look at the stranger who had just joined the conversation.

"I’m Marty Simpson. You must be Kowalski."

When Harding Welsh’s phone rang just before 5:00 AM he was already up and on his second cup of coffee. He had slept better than he thought he would, but he was still worried. He was confident that because of yesterday’s luck in nabbing Westerman so quickly they were a big step closer to Carrington. But the fact remained that the rouge Lieutenant had already proven his willingness to kill others to reach Kowalski. That threat angered the big man more than anyone truly understood. Ray had been through more in his short life than had any other three men and somehow the unfairness of that rubbed Harding Welsh the wrong way. Big time.

Upon the realization that Detective Simpson was now in their hands, Harding Welsh did more than just smile. After assuring Vecchio that he would be there in less than a half-hour the big man hung up the phone and danced a tiny jig of pure joy. It wouldn’t pay for him to show his emotions in front of his men, but he had to celebrate in some small way. It was almost over. Simpson was the key link. The connection that would bring Carrington to his knees…The key to keeping Ray Kowalski alive to aggravate his boss another day.

Lieutenant Harding Welsh had spent the entire drive to the precinct trying to marshal his emotions. There was a part of him that wanted to feel his hands around the throat of Marty Simpson. Not just because of what he had been doing to help Carrington, but also because of his blatant audacity. To have a cop of his obviously despicable caliber trying to bring down a good cop like Kowalski was something that made the big man’s blood boil.

When the Lieutenant finally stepped into his office all of his anger evaporated in the face of the broken man before him. Marty Simpson made Ray Kowalski look like a Mr. Universe contestant. Almost a head shorter than Ray, Simpson was so incredibly thin that he looked imminently breakable. The constant shifting of his eyes and the constant rubbing together of his thin bony hands only pointed more profoundly to his sad physical shape. Welsh had never planned on feeling any sympathy for Marty Simpson, but the similarities between the man he now saw before him and what he had once envisioned as an abandoned Ray Kowalski made it impossible not to.

It should have come as no surprise when the subject of that sad visualization was the first to step forward and place a reassuring hand on Simpson’s thin shoulder.

"Lieutenant, this is Detective Marty Simpson from the 17^th." The almost pleading look in Ray’s eyes made it clear that the blond was fully aware of Welsh’s possible reaction to one of the main players in this whole miserable mess. "He’s got a lot ta tell ya."

Welsh raised his eyes from the tragic figure before them and met Ray’s concerned gaze. He gave his friend a small reassuring smile and then returned his focus to Simpson.

"All right Detective Simpson. The floor is all yours." Welsh settled himself behind his desk as he continued. "And believe me…You better be straight with us…or I will personally see your fry."

Marty Simpson pulled himself up to set as straight as he could. He had thought he had no pride left, but it was suddenly very important for him to conduct himself in a fitting manner. It hadn’t been easy to walk into the 27^th as he had. He hadn’t expected this kind of a response. These were good men before him. Good cops. He had no right too their respect…but he owed them all he had to give.

He roughly cleared his throat and firmly meeting the Lieutenant’s concentrated stare began his story.

"The first thing I wanna say Sir, is that I did not knowingly have anything to do with Ms. Weller’s death. Not that it’s not my fault in the end, because I believe it is…but I swear to you…I didn’t know Carrington had given them bad stuff."

"I’d like ta believe ya Detective, but until you tell us the whole sorry story I’m gonna reserve my judgement on that."

"That’s fair enough Lieutenant. I’m damned ashamed of this whole deal, but my comin’ clean on it is the only thing I have to offer." With that Simpson settled into his chair and began.

"I have an addiction to cocaine. I’ve gotten real good at hidin’ it, but I’ve known for awhile now that it was just gonna be a matter of time before I’d lose my job over it. I mean…shit…I know the rumors are out there. But none of that matters now…" Simpson’s voice trailed off for just a moment and when he resumed his tale it was as if he were reviewing an ordinary case report.

"I met Terry and Sue when I worked the 1-6. I wasn’t there long. I got moved to the 17^th about six months ago. Hell…Carrington requested me. Seems he’s had this little plan on the burner for quite some time. At first he called me in and tried to make like my savior…you know…He told me he had heard the rumors and wanted to help. Turned out his idea of helpin’ was to cover my ass when the coke got in the way of the job. He even got to where he would slip me some really good blow form time to time…and then tell me that he knew I was tryin’ to straighten up and that it would just help to tide me over ‘till I could get a better grip. I thought I had died and gone to heaven…began to think I might be able to hang on long enough to get my shit together for real….Then he asks me for this little favor."

Simpson turned his gaze towards the thin blond who had settled himself on one end of the couch. He noticed the casually defensive positions that the other two men had assumed between him and their partner. He smiled to himself. That was the way it should be…That was always the way he had wished it had been for him. Marty Simpson dropped his gaze to the floor for only a moment before he again turned back towards the Lieutenant.

"Carrington told me what that investigation had cost him. I really think in a way he’s convinced himself that it was all a big mistake…He truly feels he did nothin’ wrong…and he has to have someone to blame…So…He’s focused all the anger and bitterness towards Detective Kowalski. When he started layin’ out his little plan, he kept tellin’ me how he didn’t wanna hurt anyone…He just wanted your guy to sweat…or force him to give up a little of what he’s got…You know…Make him feel what it’s like to watch things go ta hell around you and not bein’ able to stop it. So he wanted me to find someone ta make these crank calls…threaten his life. I didn’t like it….and I told him that. That’s when he started playin’ his hand. Said it would be a shame if the brass found out they had a coke head in the 17^th …and reminded me that it would be my word against his…And then the bastard turned right around and started talkin’ about how it would give me more time to get a grip on my addiction…like it was all for my own good anyhow."

Ray Vecchio moved over to the water cooler and brought Simpson a cup of cold water. Marty gave the thin Italian a quick nod and resumed his story.

"Carrington gave me the heroin to pay off Terry and Sue…I swear I didn’t know it was tainted…Hell they’re both good kids…Sue didn’t deserve that…Once it was done though I knew what was comin’ next. He wanted me to off your guy….Figured he had the axe over my neck now…Said I was lookin’ at a murder rap if I didn’t co-operate." Simpson turned his haunted eyes back towards Kowalski. "But it’s like you were sayin’ when I first walked in here this mornin’….He ain’t gonna leave anyone to testify against him. I know as sure as I’m settin’ here that even if I did what he wants…I would be the next to get it…and whose gonna say anything about a whacked out coke-head cop that screws up on the job and catches a bullet, or over does it some night and gets found dead in the morning. Hell…soon as they got the toxicology reports back they would have my ass swept so far under the rug they wouldn’t even be able to find a name ta go on the tombstone."

Vecchio was the first to speak up.

"Sue Weller’s been dead a couple a days now…It take you that long to wise up?"

Simpson dropped his embarrassed gaze to the floor once more. "I guess I needed a push…Carrington called me last night. Said we needed ta talk. I know he’s ready for me ta make the move against Kowalski. It wasn’t easy ta walk in here this morning…But it was easier than havin’ ta face that crazy bastard and tell him no."

The Lieutenant put his elbows on his desk and leaned towards the broken Detective.

"And will you be willing to wear a wire to this meeting?"

"I swear to you Sir…I’m willing to do anything you guys want…But it’s too late for the wire." Simpson gave Kowalski a defeated glance. "I was suppose ta meet him a half hour ago. He knows how uncomfortable I’ve been with this whole deal and if I show up now…this late…He’s gonna know there’s somethin’ up. This and my statement is all I got ta give ya." As he spoke Simpson stuck one of his bony hands into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tape. "It’s a tape of his call last night….I tried ta get him to implicate himself…and although it’s obvious that the two of us are involved in somethin’ illegal I couldn’t get him to mention any names. A good defense attorney could eat this tape for lunch, but it would help paint a picture of the guy for the jury. Sorry."

Welsh studied the man who sat across from him for a long silent moment. At last he nodded his head sadly and slowly pulled himself to his feet.

"I’ll have an arrest warrant issued for Lieutenant Carrington. Detective Simpson….I’m gonna have ta ask for your shield and your gun." The big man turned his attention to Vecchio. "Ray…Get the Duck boys ta take Mr. Simpson to interview one and get a full statement."

"Sure Lieu."

As Ray left the room Simpson rose to his feet on shaky legs. He slowly removed his shield and gun. As he carefully laid them on the Lieutenant’s desk he took a deep quivering breath.

"I know how petty this may sound when you consider that a woman lost her life because a me….But do ya wanna know what hurts me the most about all of this?" Kowalski was surprised to see the tear brightened eyes that turned his way. "The idea that my Lieutenant thought I would really take the life of another cop. I know I’m a disgrace to the profession, and to the uniform…I mean shit…I got no illusions left… But for him ta think I would sink that low…I mean… I read your file Kowalski…you’re a good cop. The kind of cop I should a been…the kind of cop I wanted ta be." Simpson’s voice very nearly betrayed him as he continued. "I know what I am, but my dad and my uncle retired from the force…I lost a brother in the line of duty, for God’s sake….Did that man really think that I could completely turn my back on the only thing in my life that ever meant anything to me?"

Detective Ray Kowalski pulled himself up off the couch and slowly made his way to Simpson’s side. As the Duck boys entered the office Ray laid his arm over Simpson’s bony shoulder and gave them a nod.

"These two will take your statement….And Carrington killed that girl…remember that."

Simpson sucked in a quick breath to cover a sob and gave the thin blond an almost unbelieving, but thankful nod. The three men were almost out the door when Simpson stopped and looked back at Ray.

"I didn’t deserve that…But thanks…That’s somethin’ you gotta remember too. Whatever comes out a this deal…The blame goes on Carrington…No one else…Understand?"

Ray gave the man a small nod and then stood and watched as the Duck boys led him away.

Ray slowly closed the office door. He quickly turned and moving to the now empty straight-backed chair picked it up and violently slammed it back down. Fraser was sure that his partner had probably loosened the legs on the old chair.

Welsh watched him with an indulgent frown.

"Are you feeling better now Detective?"

Ray ran his hand through his spiked hair and met the Lieutenant’s gaze.

"I said it once and I’ll say it again…Carrington is a chicken-shit son-of-a-bitch."

"And do you really think that at this point any of us are going to disagree with that little statement?"

All of the anger seemed to drain from Ray’s thin form.

"No…I guess not…" Ray looked from the Lieutenant towards Fraser and then back. He gave his shoulders a funny little shrug that could have best been described as both bewildered and belligerent. "It’s just…Uhm…This might surprise you guys and I ain’t even sure I understand it…But I’m gonna do everything I can ta make sure that Simpson gets through this the best he can."

The Lieutenant gave a snorting little laugh and moving around his desk to Ray’s side gave him a fatherly slap on the back.

"I may not understand it Detective, but I understand you…so it ain’t no surprise. We’ll do what we can for Marty Simpson…Right Constable?"

"Indeed we will, Sir."

Ray had just finished the form that would make this an official case when he sensed someone step up to his desk. He shoved the paperwork to the side and looked up into the face of Thomas Dewey. Tom looked worn out and just a little sad.

"Get Simpson’s statement okay?"

"Yah…He asked for a little privacy. Wants ta write a note to his dad. Jack’s watchin’ him from the observation room…just in case." Tom ran his hand through his dark hair. "Talk about a mess. I know this guy brought most of this on himself…but ya can’t help feelin’ sorry for him."

"I know whatcha mean…It’s like he kinda slipped off the path somewhere and couldn’t find his way back on or somethin’." Ray stretched as far as his chair would allow and then rose to his feet. "Uh…Listen Tom…I haven’t…uhm…you know… thanked ya for what you and Jack were willin’ ta do. I know we ended up not havin’ ta go against any rules or anything…but it coulda come ta that…and…well…Just thanks…Okay?"

Tom graced the blond with a small devilish smile. He knew that hadn’t been easy for his new ‘friend’ to say. With the history of open warfare they shared it wouldn’t have been easy for him either…but Kowalski had said it first…so that had to be one mark in his favor.

"Don’t sweat it Ray…Just look at it this way." Tom gave a sly wink and shot a quick jab to Ray’s shoulder. "You owe me big time now…ya dumb Polack."

Ray rolled his eyes and let out with a short laugh. "Yah…Sure…So like the next time ya can’t figure out how ta tie your shoes?…I’m your man."

The two men let the laughter drain out some of the stress.

"Let’s go get some coffee."

They had just turned towards the break room when they heard a muffled yell, followed quickly by the sound of a shot.

The bullpen seemed to explode as guns were drawn and everyone began to seek out the source of the commotion. Dewey had instinctively placed himself in a position between Ray and the rest of the room. It wasn’t until it had filtered through his startled brain that the yell he had heard had come from his partner, that he threw himself into motion.

"Jack!"

Two hours later six emotionally drained men sat in the Lieutenant’s office.

"Geeze….I can’t believe none of us thought to check him for another gun." Welsh knew that ultimately the final responsibility was his. It was a heavy burden to bear. "Damn!"

Jack Huey sat at one end of the couch. Tom had settled on its arm, one hand on the shoulder of his distressed partner. Jack had been watching Marty Simpson through the one-way mirror. He had seen the Detective reach into his boot for his backup piece. In his rush to try and reach Simpson he had at least been spared seeing the moment of death, but the weight of responsibility he felt was even greater than that of his boss.

Ray Kowalski sat at the corner of Welsh’s desk, his head down on his crossed arms. His right hand was wrapped in an ice bag at the insistence of the Mountie, who had been unable to reach his friend before he had put his fist through a wall.

The two notes that Marty Simpson had written were spread out in front of the Lieutenant. The one had indeed been to his father, but the other had been addressed to Kowalski. The note was short…but to the point.

Kowalski;

I’m sorry for everything…but remember what I said

The blame goes on Carrington…no one else. Please understand that.

M. Simpson

Except for a few mumbled comments the men remained in relative silence for a very long time: each man deep in his own thoughts. Each man was acutely aware that a wrong choice at a critical time in their lives and they could have found themselves in nearly the same sad situation that had forced Marty Simpson into his fatal decision.

At last the thin blond slowly rose to his feet and absently ran his good hand through his hair.

"I..uhm..I need ta get home…get me a shower."

"No way, Detective." Welsh didn’t even have the energy to raise his voice. "You stay right here ‘till we have Carrington in custody."

"But Boss…I stink…I been in these same clothes for…ever…and I…"

"We got showers down stairs…If ya ain’t got any clean clothes here, we’ll find ya somethin’" Welsh looked up into Ray’s blue eyes. He hadn’t missed the fact that there didn’t seem to be much fight left in him either. "You’re stayin’ right here ‘till we hear somethin’…No discussion…Got me?"

Ray’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

Vecchio pushed himself away from the wall.

"I tell ya what…I’ll run over ta your place…get ya some stuff…and pick us up some decent food." As he moved towards the door the thin Italian caught Fraser’s attention and moving his gaze to Kowalski laid his thumb along the side of his nose. The Mountie nodded in understanding. He would watch out for their friend. "Maybe this will teach ya that when ya take a shower here you do not just stick the dirty clothes in your locker and walk away…Ya gotta replace ‘em with clean ones once in awhile."

Kowalski smiled as his friend left the office mumbling something about the Department of Health getting involved. The thin blond then made a slow scan of the other people in the room. In a way it was a moment of epiphany, not that the word was common to his vocabulary, but he did know it’s meaning. He had suddenly come to a life altering realization. He had friends here. Friends he could trust with his life. Even Dewey had jumped between him and the possibility of impending danger. He was suddenly a little ashamed of himself. It was a truth that he had not been able to see before. He knew that it probably wouldn’t change the caution with which he approached his life beyond these walls, but here, with these people, he suddenly realized that, as far as it was in their ability to do so, he was safe.

Although they remained in the bullpen the group from the office had gradually broken up to resume work on some of the other cases that had been put on hold during this crisis. Ray looked at his watch for the second time in fifteen minutes. Vecchio had been gone for almost three hours. When Ray raised his gaze he locked eyes with the Mountie. Without a word, they rose as one and made their way towards the Lieutenant’s office. Something was definitely wrong.

The partners had just voiced their concerns to the Lieutenant when Jack and Tom joined them. The sober look on their faces reflected their concern as well.

"Vecchio’s been gone a long time….huh?" Though Jack’s eyes still held a certain haunted look, his concern was now for the Italian.

It was then that Ray’s cell phone rang.

"Kowalski."

The others in the room watched with concern as the color drained from their friend’s angular face. The thin blond ran his free hand through his spiked hair, bringing it to rest at the back of his neck. He dropped his chin to his chest and listened intently.

"Listen you son-of-a…." Ray slowly lowered the phone. Fraser could see his friend successfully fight down the urge to smash the offending instrument against the far wall. When Ray finally raised his gaze to the other members of the team they could all see the anguish and confusion reflected there. "Uh…I uh…I gotta go. He’s got Ray, but it’s me he wants…so I… uh…I …umh…I gotta go."

Welsh was instantly on his feet and moving around the desk towards the Detective who was already heading towards the door.

"Whoa…Wait just a minute." The older man not too gently took Kowalski by the arm and turned him around. He placed his hands squarely on the smaller man’s shoulders and ducked his head slightly to make firm eye contact. Ray countered the move by raising his own hands to grip the Lieutenant’s beefy forearms. Surprisingly to most of the others in the room Ray made no effort to pull himself loose. It almost appeared as if he were seeking the strong, calming anchorage supplied by the big man. "We’re in this thing together Ray."

"But Lieu…He’s got Ray…He said if I didn’t come alone, he’s gonna kill him." Welsh could see the torment in his friend’s eyes. "I gotta be there within the hour. We ain’t got time to set anything up…and I just…I gotta go …We ain’t got time!"

The Lieutenant countered Ray’s rising panic by marching him over to the old straight-backed chair and forcing him to sit down.

"Together…we got all the time we need."

Thirty minutes later Ray was on his way towards the address that Carrington had given him. The Duck boys had left right after the call had come in. They sauntered from the station cracking jokes and smiling, a perfect picture of a couple of carefree cops. It wasn’t until they were safely in their car, and on their way to the abandoned factory on Sinclair that their faces reflected the seriousness of the situation.

Welsh and the Mountie had slipped out through the basement exit and were following Ray’s GTO at a safe distance. The Lieutenant was under no false illusions. Even knowing the location this entire affair could get out of control at any second. It was a large building. It was clear to everyone that Carrington had snapped. The man had to be aware of the warrant that had been issued against him and even with that knowledge he had decided to continue with this desperate plan. The man understood that life as he knew it was over and his sole remaining desire was to kill the one who too him was at fault.

As Ray’s black GTO eased up to the designated door he cast a quick glance around. He couldn’t see Jack or Tom. He just had to trust that they had found a position from which they could monitor his progress. The slender blond was almost to the door when Carrington swung it open. The older man held a gun in his right hand and motioned Ray inside.

Once through the door Carrington took control.

"Assume the position." As Ray braced himself against the wall Carrington continued. "I knew you’d come…You stupid prick. I read your file…you ain’t nothin’ but a damn cowboy. Figure you can handle everything by yourself, don’t ya hot-shot."

"Ray Vecchio ain’t got nothin’ in this Carrington. He doesn’t deserve ta die just ‘cause you want a piece a me." Kowalski was starting to sweat. As Carrington removed both of his guns, he couldn’t help but notice the maniacal glint in the other man’s eyes.

"I don’t want just a piece. I’m going to take it all." With that Carrington grabbed Ray by the hair and slammed his head into the wall.

Although not rendered unconscious Ray was stunned enough that the next thing he knew, his hands were cuffed in front of his body and he was being roughly led towards the back of the building. The thin blond made the mistake of trying to shake the cobwebs out of his fuzzed up brain, only to stagger and fall to his knees. Carrington only laughed and jerked him roughly to his feet. Ray could feel the scar tissue on his wrists, tear with the force of the pull. At that realization he nearly choked on the fear that suddenly clenched at his guts. Not again!

The sudden rush of a thousand painful memories came pressing in on him. All of the unbearable pain, the bitter taste of his own blood, the feeling of total helplessness, nights of waking up in a pool of his own sweat as the images played over and over in his dreams…the betrayal. The only thought that silenced the screams that were nearly escaping him was that Ray Vecchio was depending on him. The man who had helped him to survive all of those painful memories needed him. He had to be stronger now than he had ever been in his life. His friend needed him to be strong.

Carrington made his way towards the back of the factory. He hurried his captive along, occasionally giving the cuffs a savage jerk to keep his prize off balance. He laughed wickedly after each pull relishing the pain that it caused the smaller man. The tender scar tissue had given way easily under the abuse of the metal cuffs. Ray could feel the warmth of his own blood as it made it’s way down onto his hands. He focused on that feeling as he fought to clear his mind. This was a large building and the Detective knew that even if his friends were close behind they might not be able to find them in time. Carrington had told him that he would die slow, but that seemed like a long time ago now, and things had changed.

All of these thoughts were racing through Ray’s mind as they neared a stairway to the floor below. In one moment of perfect clarity he saw a chance to make a difference. As they turned into the stairway Ray lurched forward as if about to fall and caught himself against the wall with his bloodied hands. Carrington swore vehemently and jerked Ray back towards the stairs. The thin blond fought to keep his hands against the wall as long as possible leaving a small but definite smear of blood pointing to the floor below. It wasn’t much, but he knew that Fraser would be hot on their trail and a Mountie always gets their man.

Ray Vecchio awoke with a pounding headache. Even before he had figured out that his hands were bound behind his back in a most uncomfortable fashion, he remembered why. They wanted Ray Kowalski. As he tried to force his brain into forward motion he carefully surveyed his surroundings. He was painfully trussed to an old office chair. The room was nondescript, but the small high window would indicate that he was in a basement and the smell of old machine oil would indicate that he was in some kind of factory. The obvious disarray and dust could only mean that it was no longer in use. Before he could compliment himself on his detective skills his eyes came to rest on the rooms only other occupant.

A large young man stood silently in the corner. He studied the thin Detective with frightened eyes.

"You’re a cop ain’t ya….A goddamn cop!" The young man shifted from one foot to the other as he scrubbed his rough hands through his dark greasy hair. "That son-of-a-bitch had me snatch a cop…I saw your badge….I don’t believe this."

Ray fought to focus his eyes on the distressed man before him.

"Yah…I’m a cop…and you are in a world a shit here, buddy." Ray tried to keep a reasonable tone to his voice…It wasn’t easy. "Carrington..right?…He’s the one had ya grab me?"

"Yah…the bastard said he would get me off the hook on that drug bust I got nabbed in….All I had ta do was a little favor." The younger man shifted his eyes from Ray to the door and back. "He never said anything about you bein’ a cop….Hell!…He’s a cop…shit….I’m dead!"

"Not necessarily. You help me get outa here before Carrington shows and I guarantee you that we’ll work something out." Ray held his breath. Could it possibly be that easy?

"How do I know you ain’t dirty too?"

"You gotta trust me here kid…Carrington’s slipped a gear somewhere…Two people have already died because a his little favors…He won’t think twice about offin’ you when this thing is over." Ray held his breath…he watched as the big young man absorbed the information. "Ya gotta trust me kid…He wants my partner…He wants him dead…and he’ll kill the both of us ta get to him. Ya gotta trust me."

Ray knew he was begging…but he somehow knew that they didn’t have much time. He understood Carrington’s plan and he understood his partner. He knew that he was the bait to draw Kowalski in and he knew that the blond would do anything to rescue him…. at whatever the risk.

The thin Italian held his breath as he watched the young man consider what had been said. The thug seemed on the verge of coming to his senses. He had even taken an uncertain step towards his prisoner when the issue was settled for them both. Time was up.

The greasy haired youth jumped back at the noise of footsteps on the stairs. Both men could hear the muddled scuffling of feet approaching the room.

"It’s not too late kid….Damn it!…use your head." Ray kept his voice low, but he could read the fear on the young man’s face and knew that for now, the moment was lost.

Even with the understanding of what was happening Ray was not prepared for the sight of his partner being jerked into the room behind the man he recognized as Carrington. The Italian was nearly overcome with a helpless rage that surprised even him. Vecchio had allowed Ray Kowalski to become a part of his family and in the process the thin blond had wormed his way into his heart as well.

Carrington gave a savage jerk and propelled Ray past him towards the center of the room and his other prisoner. The blond locked eyes with Vecchio, quickly raised his hands and laying his thumb against the side of his nose, winked. Vecchio instantly understood and prayed that their backup was close. Before he could do anything to acknowledge the signal Carrington stepped up behind Ray and kicked him brutally behind the knees dropping him instantly.

"Leave him alone ya son-of-a-bitch!" Vecchio understood the futility of his reaction, but some things just couldn’t be helped. He had noticed his partner’s bloody hands and could read the guilt and fear in his eyes. He knew the blonde’s tendency to blame himself whenever things went wrong and this situation was going wrong in a hurry. "I swear you’re gonna pay for this, you bastard!"

Carrington just smiled as he approached Kowalski. Placing a knee in the center of Ray’s back he grabbed a hand full of hair and jerked his head back until he could actually hear the thin Detective’s neck bones creak.

"I don’t wanna have ta listen to your mouth Vecchio." The big man sneered in triumph as he turned his attention to the frightened young man in the corner. "Jamey?…Would you do the honors and stick some of that duct tape over the Detective’s mouth?"

"Don’t listen to him kid…The man’s nuts…You wanna be a part of two cops gettin’ killed?"

Jamey numbly moved to obey Carrington. Vecchio realized that right now the kid was too scared to do anything else. He vainly twisted his head in an attempt to avoid the tape, but within seconds the job was done, and Jamey slowly moved back to the corner.

"Ah.. Much better….Don’t ya think?" Carrington shot Vecchio one more exaggerated smile before he returned his full attention to the man he held before him. "Now to you Detective Kowalski. I owe you so much. This isn’t really what I had planned, but it will have ta do."

"Jamey? If you would be so kind as to bring me that piece of rope we will show the Detective the payback he has earned for destroying my life." As Carrington continued he occasionally punctuated his words with a bone-cracking jerk of Ray’s head. "I heard about your terrible ordeal Kowalski. I’m sure your Canadian friend was happy for your help, but you paid a high price for your loyalty. Wouldn’t you say? Welsh told us that it very nearly cost you your life. You won out that time though…Didn’t you Detective? I think the opportunity to watch you relive that experience would do my heart good. Of course the outcome will be slightly different, but to see you revisit what must have been the worst experience of your life would go a long way towards you earning my forgiveness. And of course your death at the end of it will pretty much make us even."

Rope in hand, Jamey slowly made his way to the center of the room. At Carrington’s instruction the young man tied one end of the rope to the handcuff chain.

Kowalski made a feeble effort to resist, but Carrington simply applied more pressure. The thin blond was sure that his spine was going to snap. That and the struggle to get some oxygen into his screaming lungs soon brought his efforts to a halt.

"I chose this room for a reason Detective." As he spoke the big man removed his knee from Ray’s back, but never releasing the handhold of hair moved around in front of him. With his free hand the rouge Lieutenant grabbed the cuff chain and twisted adding more pressure, grinding the metal into the already torn flesh of Ray’s wrists.

Carrington forced his captive’s head back and then rolled his eyes towards the only thing in Ray’s line of vision…the ceiling. "Pipes…Plenty of pipes. You remember don’t your Detective? I believe you’ve been hung from a pipe before. Am I right Detective? You know what its like to hang in a pair of cuffs while someone’s tryin’ ta beat the life out of ya, swallowing enough of your own blood ta make ya wanna puke. And the whole time havin’ a friend right there ta watch ya break. That’s right Detective…Your friend there is going to have a front row seat. When you start cryin’ and beggin’ for me ta just go ahead and kill ya, your friend is going to finally know what a weak, useless piece of shit you really are."

At last Carrington released his hold and took a step back. Vecchio watched helplessly as his friend dropped his chin to his chest, sucked in a few gulps of air and fought to maintain his balance. He then slowly raised those blazing blue eyes up to stare into the face of his tormentor.

"I’m good ta go, ya son-of-a-bitch."

There were only a few people in the world that totally understood how deeply the first beating had impacted Ray’s life, and Vecchio was one. He understood the gut wrenching fear that his friend had to be dealing with, but through shear will alone, those piercing blue eyes showed only a determined, unwavering, defiance. There had been many times over the last year when the hard to please Italian had been proud to call Kowalski his partner, friend, and even ‘little brother’, but nothing could compare to the pride he felt at that moment. He suddenly remembered Fraser’s description of Ray’s behavior during the other beating and for the first time understood the guilt that could come from being forced to watch such brave determination be beaten into submission and be helpless to stop it.

For the briefest moment the two friends locked eyes. Vecchio could read the fear and apology that flashed through Ray’s eyes and prayed that his friend could read the loving concern and encouragement that he tried to reflect in his.

Ray Vecchio would later state his amazement at how long it took two men, the size of Carrington and Jamey, to subdue an already restrained man the size of Stanley Raymond Kowalski. The thin blond twisted like a snake, kicked like a mule, and head-butted like a true child of the Chicago streets. It was probably that extended delay that saved both of their lives, but it was brought to a sudden halt by a solid double handed back hand to the side of the blonde’s head.

By the time Kowalski came back to his senses he was suspended, his toes a full inch off the floor, from one of the many pipes that crossed the ceiling of the basement room. Ray Vecchio watched with concern as his friend tried to refocus those pale eyes and make some kind of sense out of his latest predicament. The Italian was unaware of the fact that now his own wrists were bleeding as well, a result of an instinctive but futile struggle to go to the aid of his partner.

It seemed that Carrington had positioned Ray in such a way that he hung facing his seated partner for a reason…for as soon as the deed was done he turned and gave Vecchio an icy smile.

"I figure you deserve a front row seat. It’s the least I can do." The big man then turned towards Jamey and pointed to a four-foot piece of pipe propped in the corner. "You might want to grab that, James, my boy. I couldn’t help but notice that Detective Kowalski has wisely worn a vest today and I want you to be able to make a proper impression on him."

Carrington laughed wickedly at his own sick joke and then began to rummage in his jacket pocket.

"As for myself? I have chosen my weapon with care. I want to be as true to the original as possible, you know." Carrington finally pulled a pair of mean looking brass knuckles out of his pocket and holding them in front of Ray’s face sneered in triumph. "I want to feel each bone as it breaks."

Ray Vecchio held his breath as he observed his partner’s reaction. He watched helplessly as the confusion in his friend’s blue eyes gave way to raw terror. All of Ray’s considerable determination seemed to melt in the face of the instrument of pain that had changed his life and had filled his dreams with unspeakable horrors. Vecchio understood it. The Italian had spent to many long nights listening to the muffled cries of his friend’s troubled sleep. More than once he had held the thin, trembling form of his ‘little brother’ tightly in his arms, until wakefulness replaced the terror with embarrassment and shame. He screamed Ray’s name into the duct tape and fought harder against his restraints.

The Italian’s struggle instantly stopped when he saw the change that seemed to sweep over his partner. The blue eyes that a moment before reflected such terror now showed an almost animalistic rage. A rage that can only come from the fierce determination to, more than just survive, but to avenge a memory so raw in its nature, that it’s pain alone, is fuel enough to burn away all other considerations.

For Ray Vecchio, things suddenly seemed to be moving in slow motion. Every sight and every sound somehow magnified, and distorted. He actually heard Ray’s wrist bones pop as he pulled himself up and kicked out at Carrington with both feet. The kick took the big man by surprise, slamming him back into the Italian’s lap and tipping them both over onto the floor.

Vecchio’s head hit the cement with a thump and from that moment on his memory of events became vague and disjointed. He heard the swearing from the big man as he struggled to his feet, grabbing the section of pipe as he went. He heard the first two blows that landed on his friend and the maniacal laughter as Carrington threw the pipe to the side and slid the brass knuckles into place. As the darkness crept across his vision the last image he could recall was Jamey, pulling himself from the safety of the corner and running from the room.

Lieutenant Welsh, Constable Benton Fraser and Detectives Jack Huey, and Thomas Dewey converged in the area of the factory that was nearest the door that they had seen their friend disappear through. Each pair had entered through different doors and had made their way here as quickly and as quietly as they could.

"Anything?" Welsh didn’t even try to hide the strain in his voice. He had understood the difficulty in finding someone in a large building, but this building seemed even larger on the inside than it had appeared on the outside. He knew that time was not in their favor.

"Nothing." Tom and Jack exchanged a meaningful glance. The Lieutenant wasn’t the only one aware of the desperate nature of their situation.

"Okay…We split up and…"

Before the big man could complete his thought, Fraser laid a hand on his arm and pointed at Diefenbaker. The wolf had his nose in the air and the hackles on his back were raised. The men watched in fascination, as the wolf seemed to draw himself up on his toes and weave back and forth across the room, winding the air as he moved. The group had worked themselves over halfway through to the back of the factory when Fraser froze in his tracks and pointed toward a stairwell that led to a lower floor.

At first the others didn’t understand what they were seeing, but as they drew nearer, it became obvious to them all. Blood was smeared on the wall at the top of the stairs. From the angle of the smear, it was clear that whoever had left the marker was headed to the basement.

Before the group could even appreciate the meaning of what they had found they heard a muffled commotion from below and then the sound of running feet pounding up the stairs. As if on command the men drew back into cover and waited. A large young man burst into view and began to run towards the exit. Jack was in the best position to intercept the fleeing man and brought him to the ground with a bone jarring tackle from behind. Before Jamey had any opportunity to resist he was surrounded by the others.

The young man turned frightened eyes towards Lieutenant Welsh.

"He’s crazy….The son-of-a-bitch is crazy! He’s gonna kill ‘em….He’s gonna kill ‘em both, and then he woulda killed me too…He’s crazy."

In under a minute the young man had been cuffed and helped to his feet. The Lieutenant took only enough time with Jamey, to elicit a location of where his Detectives were being held before shoving the man towards Jack.

"Huey, you take this kid out to the car and call for back-up…and an ambulance."

The remaining members of the team turned grim faces towards the stairs and began to move.

Knowing that Carrington was now alone with his prisoners the three men hustled quietly down the stairs. As they approached the room, their need for quiet was cancelled out by the ugly sounds coming from inside. The three men shared a panicked glance at the sound of a muffled thud and the pained gasp that went with it.

As the three entered the room, the scene before them momentarily froze them in place, but only for an instant. Welsh couldn’t stifle the roar that escaped from his barrel chest. The sight of his Detective, hanging in the bloodied cuffs, an occasional spasmodic twitch the only sign of life, was more than the big man could bear. Blood ran freely down the side of Ray’s angular face. The brass knuckles had done their job, opening a gash on his cheek, and another above his left eye.

Carrington was so intent on his captive that Welsh was upon him before he had time to react. The Lieutenant’s momentum slammed Carrington into the wall with such force that the two quick blows to the face that followed were totally uncontested. If not for a firm hand on his arm and a calming voice in his ear the big man would have probably continued, but Fraser was right, Carrington had had enough.

"Dewey…Take care of this son-of-a-bitch." Welsh shot the Mountie a grateful glance. "Come on Constable."

By the time the two men had reached their friend, Fraser had his knife ready, leaving Welsh to deal with supporting Ray’s weight. Ray’s glazed blue eyes showed his pain and uncertainty as he searched the face before him. Welsh gently lifted the blonde’s legs and put a supporting hand behind his back, waiting for Fraser to cut the rope.

"It’s me Ray…I got ya kid."

The blue eyes narrowed for an instant and then a small ghost of a smile creased his bloodied face.

"M’okay, boss." The smile was quickly replaced with a grimace as Fraser cut the rope.

"Yah…I can see that Detective." Welsh glance at the Mountie. "I got him Constable…You better go check on Vecchio."

Kowalski stubbornly squirmed his way out of Welsh’s arms. The Lieutenant braced the smaller man against his body as he worked to remove the cuffs. The older man didn’t notice as the blue eyes cleared and surveyed the scene. As his gaze settled on Carrington, the memory of the last few hours suddenly flooded back into Ray’s mind and with it the rage.

"NO !!!"

With an off-balanced lurch, Ray, pushed himself away from the Lieutenant and scooping up the section of pipe that had so recently been used against him, charged towards Carrington.

The damage to his wrists and hands made lifting the pipe a struggle, and it was that difficulty which allowed Welsh time to overtake his advance. From behind, the big man wrapped his arms around his friend and held tight, pinning Ray’s arms to his sides.

"Lemme go…Gonna kill ‘im…Son-of-a-bitch!"

Welsh was amazed at the strength still contained in that slight, battered form and it wasn’t until he had literally picked Ray up off the floor and given him a solid shake that the Detective seemed to take any notice of him at all. As the pipe rattled to the floor, Welsh heard the sharp intake of breath and sensing his friend’s pain slowly loosened his grip. Ray sagged back against his chest and fought to regain his breath.

Welsh lowered his head until his mouth was right at Ray’s ear and in a voice only Ray could hear, whispered. "You don’t wanna kill him Ray…He’s the killer…not you."

The Lieutenant felt a shudder run through the man in his arms and understood that for now the storm had past.

"I wanted to." Welsh flinched at the despair reflected in those three whispered words. "God help me I wanted to."

"But ya didn’t…That’s what counts."

As is usually the case when in the middle of a bad situation, just when you think things can’t possibly get any worse, they do. For most of those in the room the next few seconds were just a blur, but to Lieutenant Harding Welsh everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Dewey would later admit that between Carrington’s feigned weakness and his own distraction with the scene between Welsh and Kowalski his attention was not where it should have been. He had just snapped the cuffs onto Carrington’s left wrist when Kowalski yelled. As Dewey turned to see what was happening, Carrington could sense his inattention and gathered himself for what he knew would be his one chance to finish what he had started. In one fluid motion the big man shoved the much smaller Detective back enough to pull his arm out of his grip and then swung it back catching Dewey against the side of the head with the metal cuff. With his right hand he snagged a small snub-nosed gun from his boot and swung the gun towards the blond Detective still in Welsh’s arms.

For one click of the cosmic clock Harding Welsh was in another time. It was a different blond-headed, smart-mouthed, Polish cop in his arms and the feelings of rage and loss that flooded his soul were nearly overpowering. All those years ago Mike Trebalski had died in his arms and there had been nothing he could do to save him. It wasn’t going to happen again. This time there was something he could do and even as he realized that this wasn’t his partner, the need to protect Ray Kowalski was just as strong.

With a speed that surprised even him, Welsh used his left arm to spin Ray out to the side and with his right hand pulled his gun. The two big men fired at almost the same time. Carrington’s bullet went wide. Welsh’s first shot was right on target, as was the second…and the third.

Three hours later the waiting room of Central Receiving Hospital had begun to look like a Vecchio family reunion at the Chicago Police Department, District 27 Detective bullpen. An odd mix of Detectives and Vecchios were scattered throughout the room. Fraser and Jack sat beside their bandaged partners lending them their unwavering support. Smack in the middle was Ma Vecchio, one arm around her son and her other hand resting reassuringly on Dewey’s knee. Francesca and Maria were busying themselves making sure that everyone had a good supply of coffee or tea and had even snagged a couple of blankets to place over the shoulders of the injured men.

Welsh remained slightly apart from the main group, pacing the room and speaking on his cell-phone. He knew that although it was a righteous shooting the fact that it involved a fellow Lieutenant was going to make the next several weeks difficult.

Dewey had been the first to emerge from the treatment room. His pride had been damaged much worse than his head. It had taken only five stitches to close the gash over his ear but it had taken the presence and understanding of his fellow Detectives and friends to begin to eliminate the embarrassment caused by his mistake.

Ray Vecchio had appeared next. It was only with the assurance of his mother’s care that the doctors were allowing him to go home at all. He had a slightly more than mild concussion and one of his wrists was bandaged, but to no ones surprise he refused to leave before he found out the condition of his partner.

It had been over a half-hour since Vecchio had come through those doors and now everyone’s concern was centered on the time it was taking for word on the condition of the one remaining member of their team. Ray Kowalski had made it to the ambulance with only minor assistance. The blond had been limping badly, but Welsh had placed Ray’s arm across his broad shoulders and with a firm arm around his friend’s waist had helped him up the stairs and outside. Was it possible that the blonde’s injuries were worse than first believed? As time past, the tension among those waiting began to build.

At last the doors opened. A tired looking doctor, clipboard in hand, approached the expectant group.

Fraser stood to meet him, but the doctor focused his attention on Lieutenant Welsh.

"Harding? I need to speak to you for a moment."

"Oh dear." Welsh turned to the suddenly pale Mountie and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder before returning his attention to the doctor.

"No problem Doc, but how’s Kowalski?"

"Oh…Forgive me." The doctor then turned to face the others. "Ray’s going to be fine. A very mild concussion, two severe contusions…from the pipe…One on the side of his leg, just above the knee, another to his ribcage and a few more facial stitches to add to his collection. His left wrist was slightly dislocated, and both wrists were chewed up pretty bad….but they should heal nicely. Luckily the vest diffused the force of the blow enough that no ribs were broken. Now Harding…we really do need to talk."

Welsh turned a confused glance towards Fraser.

"Are ya sure it’s me ya wanna talk to Doc? Fraser is Ray’s partner. He’ll probably wanna talk ta him."

"Constable Fraser may be his partner, but you’re down as his next of kin…so it’s you I need to speak to." Again turning toward the group the doctor continued. "Hopefully if Lieutenant Welsh and I can convince him to go home tonight, he will be out here in just a little bit."

As the doctor led a stunned Welsh from the room, those that remained turned to each other in shock. All present were aware of Kowalski’s aversion to hospital stays. As the door swung shut behind the Lieutenant the group nearly exploded with a rush of whispered speculations.

Once behind the swinging door the Doctor turned to face Welsh and ran a slim hand over his tired eyes.

"We have us a small problem Harding…I’ve dealt with Ray Kowalski enough to know that something isn’t right." The doctor cleared his throat as he continued. "You and I both know the guy is tough as nails, but scared ta death of hospitals…and he’s back there making noises about ‘maybe he ought to spend the night’….Something has him pretty agitated and right now that’s the last thing he needs. I was going to give him a mild sedative, but I have a feeling it would be easier to get him to talk about it now rather than later."

"You’re probably right Doc but maybe we should get Fraser back here."

"Listen Harding…He’s got you down as next of kin…That’s gotta mean something."

"I sure as hell can’t figure that one out…shit…I didn’t even know it until ya told me."

"Well…now…wait a minute Harding….Stop and think about it. His folks are out of state…Hell every time he needs a place ta stay he ends up at the Vecchio’s…and he knows Ma already has one cop to worry about. And as far as the Mountie goes…Chances are pretty damn good that any scrape one gets into the other is going to be right there with him…so who does that leave? He knows you’ll do what’s right. He trusts you Harding…plain and simple."

"I just don’t know…" The doctor had to bite back a smile at the bewildered look on the big man’s face.

"Well, let’s give it a shot….Now I’m going to have a nurse standing by with the sedative…Once you think you have this thing figured out just give her the high sign and maybe we can get him calmed down enough to remember just how much he hates hospitals."

Before Welsh had another opportunity to object the doctor had turned and had begun to drag him towards the treatment cubicle.

Welsh reluctantly stepped through the curtain that separated the treatment areas. The big man was careful to leave an opening wide enough to keep the attending nurse in sight. He took a quick moment to take in the sight before him. The head of the bed had been raised to the point that Ray was setting up, his head resting against the pillow, eyes closed. But he looked anything but relaxed. His thin arms were crossed against the rib-belt that helped to support his bruised ribs. His hands were in constant motion slowly rubbing up and down his upper arms. His left leg was stretched out on the bed and had an ice bag secured to it. His right leg was bent at the knee and drawn up far enough that his foot would have been flat on the bed, but it too was in constant motion. His heel was tapping out a quick rhythm that nearly had the entire bed bouncing.

"Geeze Detective…Will you just relax?"

At the sound of the voice Ray’s blue eyes flew open and turned towards his boss. The Lieutenant didn’t miss his Detective’s reaction to his presence. The thin blond gave a small defeated groan and began to chew forcefully at his bottom lip.

"For bein’ your next a kin you don’t seem all that glad ta see me." Welsh moved to the side of the bed. He hooked a hip on the edge of the mattress and half sat facing his friend. He placed one large hand on Ray’s knee effectively putting a stop to the bouncing.

"S’nothin’ like that."

"Okay…then you’re glad ta see me…but there’s gotta be somethin’ goin’ on or you wouldn’t be sittin’ back here hintin’ around about spendin’ the night in a place we both know you can’t stand."

"Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on…I uh…it’s just…"

"So?…Ya wanna stay here?"

"No." It was barely a whisper.

Ray ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Welsh didn’t miss the brace on his wrist, the tremors that ran through the thin frame or the pain and confusion reflected in the blue eyes. All of it caused the big man more grief than he would have thought possible. He wanted nothing more than to take this man in his arms and hold him but right now his strength was what was needed.

"Talk ta me Detective."

"Don’t know what ta say…I umh…I just….They still out there?"

"Of course they’re still out there….They’re worried about ya." It was finally starting to make sense. "If it was Vecchio or Fraser in here…where would you be?"

"They ain’t the ones that screwed up."

"And you did?"

"Only from start ta finish." Ray ground the heels of his hands into his eyes and shook his head almost violently. "This whole damn thing is such a mess…and…I…"

"Stop right there Detective." The big man placed a calming hand on the thin arm of his friend. "We’re gonna set some things straight right now. You’re a good cop Ray. You’ve done the best you could in a bad situation. And if there’s any fault to be found here…it ain’t yours…but first things first. We’ve all been on a hell-of-a- ride the last few days and right now you got your brain runnin’ at a hundred miles an hour in six different directions. I want you able to hear what I got ta say…so before that brain ends up in a ditch…"

Welsh glanced through the curtain and gave a slight nod to the nurse.

Ray took one look at the needle in the nurse’s hand and shot an angry glare towards his boss. Before the blond could voice his obvious opinion the big man tightened his hold on the thin arm and continued.

"Like I said Detective…We’re gonna talk….It’s just a mild sedative…It ain’t gonna knock ya out or nothin’. It’s just gonna give ya the chance to think this thing through without shakin’ the bed apart. Once that’s done…goin’ out to that waitin’ room is gonna be a lot easier."

Welsh could actually watch as Ray calculated his chances of making a break for the door. The big man hid a smile as resignation replaced anger in Ray’s blue eyes.

"Why don’t they just go home!"

By the end of twenty minutes Ray had emphatically listed all of his sins. He started with the belief that if he were a better detective he would have found the evidence to nab Carrington in the initial investigation and then worked down to his regret in involving everyone in his troubles. Welsh had calmly debunked each of his Detectives perceived errors with a firm explanation of the facts. But when Ray voiced his regret at telling anyone about the threat to his life, Welsh’s calm was suddenly a thing of the past. Luckily the sedative had relaxed Ray enough that he only flinched a little bit when the big man jumped up from his perch on the side of the bed and angrily jammed a finger in the thin blonde’s chest.

"You listen to me Detective. Don’t even go there." Welsh slowly straightened and ran a rough hand over his face. The big man hooked his toe into the base of the Doctor’s short, wheeled stool and rolled it over to the edge of the bed. He settled his large frame on the stool and rested his elbows on the mattress. By the time he continued he had successfully regained his shattered calm. "Listen to me Ray…and get this through that thick Polish skull once and for all. The only one at fault in any of this is Carrington. He was a bad cop…period! This entire situation was a police matter and as such it was your duty to bring it to my attention. Now I understand your hesitation ta do it….I mean ya thought the guy was a friend of mine…which is the only mistake ya made in this whole damn mess."

Kowalski snorted and turned troubled eyes toward his boss. "Yah....but look what happened. Huey has ta live with what happened ta Simpson, Vecchio’s lucky to even be alive…and just ‘cause I couldn’t keep my shit together, Dewey got his head split… and you?…" Welsh watched as guilt and tears filled his friend’s blue eyes. "I…I blew it…and…you ended up havin’ ta kill a man….a cop…a fellow Lieutenant…there’s no way you deserved that …You’re not a killer either."

As the thin blond choked back a sob Lieutenant Harding Welsh finally gave into what he had wanted to do for the last three days. He rose from the stool and once again settled on the edge of the bed. He carefully pulled his friend into a tight hug.

It took only a moment for Ray’s slight resistance to melt. He tentatively wormed his arms around the big man and held on. Although he made no sound Harding could tell from the hitching breath and occasional snuff that Kowalski was finally allowing himself the relief of a valiantly delayed cry.

After a few minutes the big man pulled back enough to speak quietly next to Ray’s ear. Even in his distress the younger man couldn’t help but notice the barely contained emotion in the husky voice.

"I got no regrets, kid…hear me? Carrington isn’t the first man I’ve had to shoot in the line of duty. It’s never easy….I hate ta see any situation come to that but ya gotta remember; you were hurt…confused …. reactin’ on instinct….But you got a hold on it ‘cause you’re a good cop. Carrington was a man, eat up with hate. He was the one behind those people dyin’." The big man took a shaky breath and one meaty hand began to gently rub slow circles across his friend’s bony back. "I ain’t sure when it happened…and I damn sure can’t figure out why, but somewhere along the line what happens to you has come to be pretty damn important to me. He hurt you Ray…and even knowin’ it was over he was still tryin’ ta kill ya. And no matter how much I hate the fact that another man is dead….No scum-bucket is gonna cost me the life of a Detective…or a friend….And for damn sure not you….Not on my watch! Ya got that?….I got no regrets."

The only response from the younger man was a big shaky breath and a slight tightening of the hug…but to Welsh it spoke volumes. Expressing feelings of this importance wasn’t easy for either man, but somehow he knew that Ray understood. They could fight like cats and dogs over ‘proper’ procedures and direct orders but somehow, when it came to this, they always seemed to be on the same page.

The Lieutenant reluctantly pulled away enough to get a look at his friend’s tear stained face. Between the emotional drain and just plain exhaustion it wasn’t the prettiest of sights.

"Geeze Detective…You look like hell." As he spoke, Welsh moved over to the sink and wetting a piece of paper towel handed it to Ray.

The big man stepped away and watched as Kowalski made a few careful passes over his bandaged face. When he handed the towel back he raised a rather contrite and slightly skeptical glance toward his boss.

"Still…I’m sorry it came ta that…If I woulda handled it better…"

Before he could finish the thought a meaty palm thrust toward his face silenced him. When he looked past it, he could see the anger beginning to spark in the Lieutenant’s eyes.

"Bull-shit Ray…No one can live on coulda, woulda, shoulda." Welsh took a moment to collect himself and then quietly began again. "Everyone on this case did a good job…. And I’m proud of every damn one of ‘em…But I’m proud of you for something that goes above and beyond police work."

Welsh ignored his friend’s puzzled expression and continued. "You let yourself trust someone besides the Mountie and Vecchio. Scared ya ta death…but the world didn’t come to an end did it?….They came through for ya just fine didn’t they?….and even if they hadn’t…ya gotta admit it felt pretty damn good to know they were willin’ ta try…right?"

Harding watched the range of emotions that played across the younger man’s face and smiled when a small surprised grin finally settled there.

"I did…didn’t I?" Ray scratched his head in wonder. "You’re right about one thing though…It was kinda scary."

Welsh couldn’t contain his smirk. "Yah...I could tell…But it’ll get easier…And you’ll just have to trust me on that."

"Trust you huh?…I can do that." Ray’s blue eyes studied his boss fondly. "Uhm…I wanna thank ya..I..uh…I guess I owe ya one."

"That’s crap Detective. And you know it." As Ray slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed the big man took him by the elbow. "You owe me a hell of lot more than just one…but we ain’t got the time…or the calculator to figure that shit up now…There’s people waitin’ for us out there."

**********************************************************************************

Welsh settled heavily behind his desk. It had been a rough day for the 2-7. A young policeman was dead. No one could say what kind of an officer the young man would have become. Would he have been like Ray Kowalski? A good man who survived the harsh realities of his chosen profession to remain a good man. Or would he have been like Marty Simpson? Marty Simpson: a good man who had lost himself in the ugliness and the temptation of a life on the edge. The big man could only hope that the goodness that had been there would have remained.

The Lieutenant rubbed a meaty hand across his tired eyes. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as he watched his three best men make their way towards his office. He wasn’t surprised that Vecchio and Fraser ended up flanking a still shaken Kowalski.

"Hey Lieu? Is it alright if we bug outta here a little early?" Welsh was glad that Vecchio had enough sense not to suggest that it was because of Kowalski’s state of mind that they wanted to leave. If the skinny blond thought they were trying to cut him slack he would blow a fuse and end up working overtime just to prove his point.

"Yah…I got no problem with it. You’re clear with the shootin’ team and there’s nothin’ that can’t wait ‘till tomorrow." Welsh then focused on Kowalski. "You gonna be alright Ray?"

Ray momentarily dropped his gaze to the floor but then turned a tired smile towards his boss.

"Yah." The thin blond then hooked his thumbs towards the men on either side of him. "Built in babysitters."

"I wish I could say that was a comforting thought but you’re talking about two guys that need keepers themselves."

"Hey Lieu!…Not to worry. I called Ma and she’s throwin’ extra pasta in the pot tonight." Vecchio playfully poked the blond in the ribs and continued. "Believe me when I say…There ain’t nothin’ that can keep a bunch of bums in line better than an Italian mother….Right Stanley?"

"Can it Vecchio."

"If I could put it in a can and sell it I would be a millionaire…A Florida, sun baked…well dressed ..Millionaire."

Kowalski suddenly began to shift from one foot to the other like a wayward youngster standing before the principle.

"Maybe …the Lieutenant could …uhm…You know?…If he wants to…"

Ray Vecchio couldn’t hide his amusement at his partner’s sudden shyness or his boss’ surprise.

"Gee…I don’t know. Benny? Whadda ya think?" As he spoke the Italian made a big show of leaning across in front of Kowalski to address the Mountie. "Do you think Ma would complain about another mouth ta feed?"

The Mountie smiled warmly at his friend. "Well, really Ray, I think a more important question would be: will she even notice."

"Ya got a point there Benny." Vecchio then turned his attention to the big man behind the desk. "Whadda ya say Lieutenant?…Say 6:00…and you bring the wine…Italian of course."

Harding was on the verge of turning down the invitation but the hopeful look that came from the man in the middle suddenly caused him to change his mind. What the heck, it was about time he got to know the magic of Ma Vecchio’s kitchen.

Any doubts he had were erased in the face of the warm smiles that greeted his nod.

As the three men filed from his office Kowalski made it a point to be the last one through the door. He hesitated just long enough to look back at the older man. A shy but happy smile creased his angular face.

"Thanks Lieu."

"Just get the hell out of here Detective….and don’t let them start without me."

Time and changes….It happened to all of them.

Vecchio had survived his stint undercover, the Mountie had learned to relax and Kowalski had started to trust again. What’s to say that an old Lieutenant couldn’t learn some new tricks? Maybe he could learn to be a good boss….and even a better friend.

THE END (not)

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