Fan Fiction
So Where To Now?
Full Circle
The Under-rated Co-star of Due South Speaks Out!
Snow
A Winning Combination
Thoughts of Friends
True Friends
Perfection of a Mountie
Ray's Journal
For The Love Of Victoria

SO WHERE TO NOW?
By Theresa Evans
Detective Ray Vecchio wondered if being friends with Fraser was really worth the effort of trying to understand the man. There were times when, he had to admit, Benny drained him.
Ray sat slouched in his beloved car, waiting for his friend - Constable Benton Fraser, the Mountie - to finish his day shift at the Canadian Consulate, ready as always to give him a lift back to his bleak apartment, where Ray would patiently wait while Benny changed into his casual clothes. Together they would then go out; either to Rays house for a large, often bewildering, family dinner, or to spend the evening just sitting talking in some small, obscure, eating place that Benny had discovered.
Ray was restless, the minutes seeming to pass so slowly, his mind unwilling to unwind from the day's events. From his comfortable position he looked across the road and watched Constable Benton Fraser as he stood tall, proud and still, never moving as the world swirled about him.
Crossing his arms in front of him, Ray tilted his head and concluded that that really was how the world moved about Benton Fraser. Benny, he decided, was caught in a time warp. While the rest of the planet pushed, shoved and rudely pounded its way about him, the Canadian just slipped quietly along, holding open doors, lifts and giving up taxis, bus seats and - if necessary - his blood for those people who lived about him. To him it was second nature, to others - like Ray - it was a miracle. Benton was as flexible as a willow, but once resolved as tenacious as a tsunami.
The American detective yawned widely and rubbed at tired eyes. These had not been a good few weeks. A serial killer had arisen from the stench of the city and was now preying upon the elderly of Chicago, working his way across the city, with the last two murders being in Ray's precinct area. While the detective was not directly connected with the case, the term 'every available officer' included him. The killings bothered him more than he liked to admit. The victims were elderly, usually family women who were home alone during the day; wives, mothers. An image of his own mother slipped unbidden into his mind and he forced the picture away, not even willing to contemplate that line of thought for fear of tempting the gods. Anyway, he'd given his mother strict instructions what to do during the day if a caller arrived upon her doorstep, and the other members of the Vecchio family had taken it upon themselves to drop in upon the elderly woman at odd times during the day.
With an effort he turned his attention back to his friend. Still not a muscle had moved, his position remained the same - unchanged. Maybe, he thought with a weary smile, that was why he liked Fraser so much - because he didn't change. It was like the Canadian had decided at some distant point in his past life that he was going to be the type of person that he was, and he would never change and Ray knew with certainty that he never would - he would still be holding open doors, giving up taxis and saving people from their problems when he was ninety years old.
Unless, that is, something happened to make him change; something so bad that it would destroy the kind man Ray now sat watching. Ray knew that would be a terribly painful process to see. With a shudder Ray remembered Victoria; her pretty face, long hair and stunning looks. Ray knew that she had nearly broken Benny. Her twisted words and intentions had so very nearly lost Ray his faithful companion. Not to mention the bullet that Ray, himself, had sent crashing towards his friend. He fought back the shudder of cold terror that ripped though his body at the memory of that incident and considered winding up the window, as if the cold chill was physical, but he knew that he was only fooling himself - the sun was still hot, and the famous Chicago winds weren't blowing. The shivers came from deep within himself.
Yet, remarkably, they had both recovered; Fraser from the bullet in his back and Ray from the guilt that had ripped into his soul for being the one who had put the bullet there. Mind you, he contemplated, gently rubbing at his own long-healed wound that he'd sustained while saving Benny's life shortly afterwards, the bullet in the arm had helped. He'd never have thought that getting injured would make him feel so much better. Nor could he put into words the feelings that had welled within him when he'd awoken from the operation to remove the bullet and found the Mountie waiting patiently by his bed. No words had passed between them at that time, but a gentle hand had held his head up slightly while ice chips were carefully placed upon his tongue - not an easy task when you remembered that Fraser had still been confined to that wheelchair.
The first time they'd met had been in the police station holding cell; Ray trying to scam a deal and Benny trying to find a Detective Armani. That brought a smile to Vecchio's quivering lips. Why had he let the smooth-talking Canadian get to him? Guilt he realised. That was the reason why. Benny had shown the kind of loss at his father's death that Ray had never been able to display at his own father's passing. Closing his eyes, Ray bravely let the last time he'd seen his father slip into his mind. It was an image that he usually kept well locked behind his barriers of past pain, but today it seemed as if it just wanted to surface; just once it wanted to see the light of day and not come upon him, like it usually did, in the dark of night, as a nightmare to plague his sleeping hours. The older Vecchio was looking the worse for wear, an all-night drinking session having been the order of the day. He'd come in looking for a fight and had found only Ray in the house. Reaching up, Ray rubbed at his cheek as he remembered the hard, vicious slap that had accompanied the raging, abusive storm that his father had tossed at him. He knew that Fraser's father had never raised a hand towards his son, and for that Ray envied his friend. He also knew that Benny had never struck his father - not like Ray, the son who had finally cracked and lashed out at his father, leaving the drunken bully laying upon the hall floor, still cursing, as Ray fled the house, blinded by his tears. Nine hours later, his father was dead.
The door to the car suddenly flew open and Ray nearly leapt out of his seat. As it was, he had his gun halfway out of the holster before he realised that it was Benny who was climbing into the seat beside him, after allowing Diefenbaker to slip into the back of the car. The other man paused when he saw the look of total devastation that lay across Rays features. A look of absolute loss. "Is everything all right?" he asked, genuine concern filling his voice.
A smile broke slowly across Ray's face as he pushed the memory back where it belonged, prepared to let his friends calming presence lay the ghosts of the past. With a sure hand he started up the car and pulled away from the kerb into the traffic. Taking a steadying breath, he gave his friend a reassuring smile and said, "Yeah so where to now?"



For those of us who like to be warned about these things, the following absolutely brilliant story is definitely on the dark aide... Toni tells me the piece was written to end DS once and for all so tissues at the ready, please.
'In your heart, in your soul, did you find peace there?'
Loreena McKenitt

Full Circle
By Toni L. James

"It wasn't your fault."
Ray started at the sound of the voice next to him and turned to look. There was a man standing almost at his shoulder, dressed in the full uniform of a Mountie. Ray had not heard him approach, but then he had been concentrating on the swirling patterns of the snow and the desolation whilst he waited for someone to arrive pick him up.
He had no idea where he was going next feeling as though he couldn't go home.
Walking up and down in the cold, he felt that he was being reminded that Canadian life moved at its own mysterious pace. The last person he needed for company while he waited, however, was someone from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
"Oh yeah?' was the only comment Ray made, injected with enough dismissal to ensure the older man left him in peace, as he pretended to scrutinise the many hills and - of snow before him.
"You're blaming yourself. It's pointless. Why do it?"
"You have no idea... " Ray broke off with a grin which contained no amusement.
He looked at the man again, "Who sent you? Sergeant Mears, just to make sure I don't feel too bad about his laughin' at the idea of me joining the Mounties?"
"No. No-one sent me But someone has to talk some sense into you before you allow one man's death to kill two - no, he quiet!" He flapped a hand impatiently at Ray when he started to speak "Why did you come here?"
"I wanted to-"
"Make sense of what happen?" Try to fill a hole, a gap within your life. Your life. You're not going to do that here. You want to make sense of his death, go home and do it there."
"Make sense..."
The gain had been a cold place just beneath his ear, in Zuko's hot excited breath failing to warm it. He was ecstatic, holdin Ray very still in the certainty that he wanted so much the trigger and it was only the knowledge that it would end this stalemates all too quickly which prevented the cop from firing. The whole thing had been a set up from start to finish. Zuko had finally found someone in his rank: who was smart enough to trap a cop and a Mountie and this time not even Dief was going to be able to rescue him. But Benny had been there.
Had always been there...
"Until now." Ray half-laughed and shook his head as if trying to dislodge the tears threatening to fall.
"And he saved you again. As usual."
Guilt surged. "Any way but that" Ray turned on his companion. "Any way. Zuko could have... should have killed me. I'd 'rather" he had shot me."
"Benny didn't feel that way."
"Who cares how he felt? There had to have been some other way. Anything." He couldn't say any more.
"So he bargained with the devil begging him not to kill you."
"Yeah," Ray whispered.
"He agreed to be Zuko's man on the inside. Agreed to feed him information, anything that came his way, whether it was from the Consulate or through police connections. Agreed to betray everything he believed in and worked for."
"Yeah."
"And his word was his bond. He would do it, no matter the cost to his soul. But..?"
"But he never took the chance."
"Because?"
Because Zuko had let him go. Had left him alone. Because Ray's lost gun was still on the floor. Because Ray had allowed a helpful Mountie to retrieve ... and let a minute or two elapse before looking for his friend. Meeting a grief-stricken gaze, full of knowledge of what he was about to do. Choose the only escape.
And the expression in Benny's eyes never changed as the gun shot rang in Ray's ears.
"You won, you know."
Ray wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. "Won?"
"Yes, and Zuko knew it. He knew that for all his money, for all the fear he caused, no matter many people he killed, there would not have been one among his men who would have done same for him. Even as he left he was vowing more revenge on you but he knew it would be futile. So at the end of your battle, you won."
"Doesn't matter now."
"Matters to Benny. Don't let it go for nothing, son. Yocan remove the weight of the guilt you've carried with you so long - go out and better cop without it. But not here. Go home, Yank."
And Ray realised that a weight had indeed been lifted from him as his resolve to return to Chicago stregthened. For a moment, as he gazed out across the gradually blurring white wasteland, he thought he glimpsed a red tunicked figure with his hand raised in greeting - or was it farewell? - before it strode away. He turned to remark on it to the old Mountie beside him, only to find he had vanished. As he looked around frantically, he was aware of a car approaching. He gathered his things, pulled himself together- while he waited in the steadily increasing snow flurries for his lift.
 The Under-rated Co-star of Due South Speaks Out!
By Louisa de Souza
Allow me to introduce myself, one Benton's stetson, RCMP (Really Cute Mountie's Partner). In due course, you will discover the whole reason for my boldly writing this but for now let me tell you my inside story, my part in tha phenornenon known fondly as Due South...

It is not easy being a hat, least of all a Mountie's hat, let me tell you. Just you try sitting tightly on some bloke's bead being all brave and dashing while he leaps through a pane of tempered plate glass with no thought for the personal safety of your hand-brushed rim or delicately polished buckle. And do I get any of the praise? No, siree! For I am the under-rated side~kick; the Bonnie to his Clyde. But out of a sense of duty, 'I do my job with not so much as a footnote the credits saying, "No hats were harmed during. the filming of this programme.'
But bow did an exprienced and interesting stetson like me get into this line of work? Well,when I was young, just a stetsling, I remember seeing my parents at work one day. I gazed at them with quiet awe and then I declared that I wanted to follow in their honourable footsteps.But, no, they persuaded me not to become an ornate feathery accesory in a sleazy striptease show. Sure, there were obvious perks but I was forced into an alternative career. A friend suceeded in getting me into the exclusive drama college HA~RADA (Head Attire Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts). That friend was no other than that Wonder-wolf himself Diefenbaker. Yes, it's true, we go way back, he and I. Known him ever sincc he was knee-high to a lamppost.
At HA-RADA, I worked as hard as a hat could, spending most of my time on one of those centrifugal spinning machines like they use at NASA. I'm not sure whether I was being trained for life as a Mountie's hat or the Canadian Allstars Projectile Vomiting Team, both of which I have excelled at in the past. Needless to say, I excelled at HA-RADA and on our graduation day, all of us hats got to throw students in the air for a change!
Diefenbaker and I were fortunate enough to be picked together for our new assignment. So it was with great trepidation, a little hesitancy and, dare I say It, partial solemnity that we set off to meet our new masters and what lay ahead.
And what a head to lay on! I sat in the props room, trying to keep a stiff upper brim, when he came in. Constable Benton Fraser. First impressions: well, the mittens on a string added a certain 'je ne sais quoi' but lie was certainly a well groomed, immensely polite young man. But the lucky man who was supposed to benefit from Fraser's doubtless ruthless shock tactics was as different from the magnificent Mountie as vintage Chatemu Lafite is from a six pack!
Detective Ray Vecchio was the stereotypical Italian-American streetwise cop.
Stylewise he was the Armani while Benton was the Tupperware but at the time he had all the manners of a pit bull. He hardly noticed me, not like Fraser. Now there was a 90s man who knew how to treat a hat. He respected me, cared for me and took me everywhere, everywhere! In 'real' life, Benton plays a polite thoughtful family man called Paul Gross. Ray, in 'real' life, plays a man called David Marciano who looks rernarkably like Ray himself - only better-looking!
The Mountie work, however, was hard, very hard. But I'd had the projectile vomiting training. I could have been one of those hotshots on Harrison Ford's head in Raiders of the Lost Ark! And I do all my own stunts. When Freser is seen skimming his hat with deft precision and split second accuracy to knock a pistol from a villain's hand - that's me, that is!
Did you see the one where I got shot?! The producer wanted me to have a stunt double but I wowed them all with my high quality acting. Should have got that Oscar - afterall anyone can say, 'life is like a box of chocolates in a southern twang!
But as the days flew by, Ray and Benton became close friends. Their characters complemented each other like red wine and cheese, lager and football, laptops and yuppies. He had a new friend now and didn't seem to want me hanging around anymore. I began to feel like an old Spectrum games machine forgotten by most but still with my original groundbreaking qualities add, unlike the popular Irish alcoholic beverage, I was bitter...
Alas after two "ears of well-mannered Mountie and cool cop fighting crime in downtown Chicago, the god of CBS intervened. He put an end to my life. I don't know what my life will be like now the Fab Four are disbanded. 'Kiss and tell' memoirs sure a double page spread in Hello! on Yukon cookery maybe presenting beauty tips on the TV afterlife that is QVC So on behalf of well me. I implore you with the utmost imploringness to do whatever is in your power to reinstate us write to your MP,pray to God or ring Richard and Judy!
The beginning of my life as a forgotten one minute wonder draws threateningly close I will no doubt he condemned to life in a school's props cupboard only to be resurrected momentarily twenty years into the future for a nostalgic quiz show hosted by Noel Edmunds.
Maintain the right
Bentons's stetson.
 SNOW
By Catherine Phipps.

It was snowing white and pure. Chicago winter snow. The only pure thing in the city. The small, feathered flakes fell all around her, like a misty veil. Onto her long midnight hair, her soft eyelashes, as she walked slowly towards a tall, silent, dark figure. She stopped, an arm's reach away from him, as her dark eyes came to rest on his.

Victoria.

Benton stared at her through the glassy evening air. His mind was completely empty his body non-reactive to the bitter cold. He was aware only of one single thing. It filled his body with a strange kind of warmth and certainty. Nothing else mattered to him now, here. "I love you."

Her eyes narrowed and dimmed. She laughed softly, a hint of bitterness, and pulled her black, woolen scarf more tightly around her slender neck.

She fixed her eyes sharply on the distant winter landscape, scrapers rising in the East, inquisitive, suffocating. To think he ever wanted to live in a harsh world such as this, she thought. I offered him life. Would he have taken it?

She turned away from it suddenly in disgust, and looked once again at Benton.

"You do, huh? After what I did to you?" she said coldly "You expect me to believe that?"

Victoria continued to stare at his face, fighting back the urge to submit, to go towards him, say sorry, take him in her arms and comfort him. She had so much wanted to be with him ever since she left him at the station. She could see how much she was hurting, and sensed, for the first time, that Benton had no idea how she felt and was desperately trying to understand her.

Did he know how much she loved him?

She quivered slightly - the cold, the turmoil in her mind -- but she would not take her eyes off him and tumble into submission.

Benton could feel the tears welling in his eyes but did not try to prevent them from falling Why couldn't he understand her? Why did it always end up this way? Why was he so frightened of her? AIl he had to do was reach out for her now, a simple gesture. Why did she just keep pushing him away? Questions were all she ever left him with.

For the first time in his life of human contact, he found he could no longer look into her eyes. They dropped away, tears tumbling down his face, stinging
his frozen cheeks, like fire against ice but he could not stop them falling, nor did he want to. He didn't realize how cold his body was. Benton wrapped his arms around himself as a form of comfort and consolidation. He was absorbed completely in self-pity, and unaware of Victoria's hand on his arm, her warm breath near him, a soft warmth.

He looked up suddenly. Victoria smiled apologetically. No words were needed between them. For the first time, he understood as he looked into those once dark and secretive eyes, Now, they said everything.

"Ben? I'm sorry? I'm so sorry?"

They fumbled for each other blindly. Benton felt as if he was falling. They clasped onto each other as if they we fighting for their lives. Benton shut out the whole world - the suffocation of the non-purposeful, slow city traffic; other peoples' struggling for purpose, their needs, their will to survive; the impatient tap of Ray's hand on the Riviera dashboard - and let himself he engulfed by Victoria. That was always the same. But now, Benton could afford to be selfish. The world could wait for these last seconds with her, and then' be knew, she would have to go. Life with her, they both knew, was not to be.
 A Winning Combination
by Victoria Haslam

Ray Vecchio was still in bed when his younger sister, Francesca, came barging into his room, brandishing a thick white envelope like some avenging angel. Her brother groaned at the sight of her. The shocking pink of her outfit was just a little too bright for this time of the morning, Ray thought, forgetting that it was not such a long time he himself had chosen equally lurid colours to wear. But that was before Fraser. His life had been in a downward spiral then and the clothes were just another symptom of his self-destructiveness. With Frannie though it was different: she actually liked wearing outrageous colours.

"For God's sake, Frannie," Ray protested before his sister could say a word, "I said I was sorry, okay. I know I should have told you about the lottery ticket, all right, but it doesn't do either of us good now. And it's way too early to start an argument. So just leave me alone, okay? You can do that, can't you, Frannie? Just leave me alone."

"Ray..." Frannie began, having no intention of leaving. But her brother was not listening. Long practice had enabled him to switch off his sister's voice when the mood took him and right now, Ray was far from interested in whatever she had to say.

Instead his hazel eyes slid sideways to the bedside table, fixing on the digital display of the alarm clock. For a moment he didn't register its message then he sat up abruptly realising that it wasn't early as he'd thought. "Damn!" he swore. "I'm supposed to be meeting Fraser for breakfast in twenty minutes!"

Automatically he reached to throw off the eiderdown and swing his legs over the edge of the bed only to stop as the realisation dawned that he was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. The previous night, he'd been too tired and heartsick to prepare for bed properly. There, draped over the chair on the other side of the room, were his pyjamas and dressing gown and there, lying in a jumbled heap where he'd dropped them on the floor, were the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday. Ray winced at the sight; another suit would be heading for the dry cleaners. Meanwhile, he was only too aware that Francesca was still in the room and there was no way he was going to get out of bed with his sister around.

"Frannie, c'mon, give me some space, will you? I need to get up," he pleaded. "I don't come invade your room while you're in bed, do I?"

Francesca frowned at him. "You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"Frannie..." Ray began again then, noting the intensity of his sister's scowl, raised his hands in defeat. Under the circumstances, surrender was probably the best policy. "Okay, all right, I'll listen. Just make it quick."

Without a word, Frannie took a few steps closer holding something out for him to look at. Ray blinked at the white envelope in her manicured hand. It was larger than a standard envelope (though smaller than full document size) and fairly bulged with its contents. The Vecchio name and address were neatly typed on the front and a two-colour logo occupied the left-hand corner, proclaiming Chicago Travel. A jagged tear across the top told him the letter had been opened.

"Great!" Ray murmured, recognising immediately what it was. A quick glance at Frannie's face made the thought of trying to deny the evidence die before he even gave it a life. There would be no getting out of this one. "Does Ma know?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"No."

"Good." At least there was one less problem to contend with. Ray hesitated, trying to figure out how best to tackle Francesca.

"You did this yesterday, right?" After finding the lottery ticket?" Frannie enquired, her voice deceptively even.

"Yeah." There wasn't much else he could say.

Francesca reached into the envelope and drew forth a single sheet of paper. Probably the cover note, Ray realised with a sinking feeling. He was beginning to understand how a mouse felt in a trap.

"Bermuda," his sister read the destination out loud, then lapsed into silence. After a moment, she raised her head and met his troubled gaze. "You missed a name," she informed him conversationally.

The remark provoked a hollow laugh. "No, I didn't," Ray said, shaking his head. "I wasn't going to go. Hell, Frannie, where would I ever get time for a holiday like that? Besides if the rest of you went, it's as good as a holiday for me anyway."

Yeah, just like the last time, thought Francesca, but she didn't voice the thought. Ray definitely didn't need reminding about what happened when the entire Vecchio clan had departed for Miami earlier this year. She had been shaken by the look of devastation in her brother's eyes when they'd got back. It certainly hadn't been there before they'd left. But Benton Fraser hadn't been in a hospital before they left either, carrying a bullet from Ray's own gun. Her brother had been shattered by the shooting and it was only a combination of time, Ray's resilience and Fraser's forgiving and generous nature that had pulled Ray back from the darkness they had teetered on.

Frannie's inward sigh was echoed by the cop's outward one. "Guess I'll have to cancel those tickets." Ray grimaced at the necessity.

"Ray..."

"Look, Frannie," he didn't let her finish the expected protest, "you know there's no way I can send the family to Bermuda now. Not on my wage."

"It's the thought that counts, Ray," Frannie completed what she had been about to say, utterly surprising her brother. He bit his lip and looked away.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry, Frannie."

"I'm sorry too Ray. I shouldn't have said all those awful things to you yesterday."

He shrugged. "And I should have told you what I was doing. It's just, well, I wanted to surprise everyone..."

Smiling affectionately, Frannie leaned over to place the envelope on the table. "You know, Ray, you're not such a rat after all."

Ray laughed, a hint of embarrassment in the sound. "Yeah, uh... you won't tell anyone, will you? About Bermuda, I mean?"

"No, I won't tell," she assured him. Reaching out, Francesca put her arm around her brother's lean torso and hugged tightly. For a second Ray seemed at a loss as to how to respond then his own arms moved to reciprocate the embrace. Throughout their lives there had been heated arguments and petty squabbles. But throughout their lives there had also been tender moments like this one when brother and sister acknowledged, if only for a few seconds, the true strength of their feelings for each other.

An instant later the moment passed as Francesca eased away from him. "I better let you get up. You're going to be late for breakfast."

"Fraser won't mind," Ray said, knowing it was true. He wondered briefly if he should tell the Mountie how he intended to use the lottery money but decided against it. The whole matter had been rendered - quite literally - somewhat moot by a bunch of chickens. Still Frannie knew, and, in a way, that was as it should be. Ray Vecchio watched his sister leave the room. Then, finally, he threw back the covers and got out of bed.

 Thoughts of Friends
by Denise Baker

If I could take that moment back I would. To see Benny laying there all because of me, with a bullet in his back, hurts, hurts like hell. All I want to say to him is 'I'm sorry', but I can't seem to find the words, so I talk about the weather, the television I tried to get him to watch, but there's this edge between us now. It's not the fact that I shot him, as much as 'her', Victoria. He even said it himself, he was going to go with her. After all our friendship has been through, and I don't use the word 'friendship' easily, as I don't consider people my friend easily, I never thought that the 'go by the book', halo wearing Mountie would ever desert our friendship, duty and the law for a woman.

Nobody else knows that Fraser was going to leave and that's the way it'll stay. If they find out it won't be from me. As far as they know Fraser was shot trying to stop Victoria leaving on that train; he happened to get in the way of the bullet that was meant for her. His secret is safe, it's the least I can do for my friend.

It's funny how I can still call him that after he was willing to leave me high and dry by jumping bail. I'd have lost everything, my house, everything. But no matter what, he is my friend and I'll stick by him.

I have tried everything to get him out of this depression he is in, but I don't seem to be getting very far. I can't figure out whether it's because he made a mistake and decided to go with Victoria, or if it's because he's now left behind. He's not saying and I can't ask. I tried to cheer him up, said that we could fix up his father's cabin. I even offered to buy him the usual essentials to make that place liveable, like a toilet, but all I got was a half hearted 'sure, we can do that', and 'you don't have to got to all this trouble Ray.' Trouble, what trouble? I'm the reason he's not fit enough to do it himself!!

The shrink tells me I've to talk to him about it. What do I say to the guy I shot, the guy I nearly crippled, who also doesn't want to talk about it either? Nothing. Well that's going to have to do for now. I just hope that both of us can pick up the pieces and move on.

TRUE FRIENDS
By Heather Brown.
A regular beeping sound woke Benton from a dreamless sleep. He slowly opened his eyes to find he was looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. Where was he? Benton tried, and failed, to remember. He tried to move his head to see where he was but his body would not respond. He closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep.
He woke again to the beeping sound. What was that?
"How are you feeling?" The voice was gentle, concerned, female.
"AI ... er ... where?" Benton tried.
"It's okay. It's usual to be a little disorientated after anaesthesia.' The owner of the voice came into view. A nurse. A nurse? Benton wanted to ask where he was and why but sleep reclaimed him.
Beep ... beep ... beep. The now familiar sound was there again. This time Benton made a supreme effort to look for the source of the noise. He turned his had and saw a heart monitor. What had happened to him? Evidently something had and he was, as a result, in hospital with a heart monitor. He tried to get up but a severe pain in his back nearly made him scream.
Benton slept.
Victoria.
"Come with me!" she called from the rapidly departing train.
Benton went. He couldn't let her go, not this time. He reached out to her. Her to him... They touched.
"She's got a gun!" A shout far away.
A distant crack of gunshot, something hit him in the lower back. Like a thrown stone.
Benton woke with a start. Now he knew.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" The voice was gentle, concerned, male. Ray.
Benton looked at his friend. "I remember what happened."
"You do?" Ray got up and walked to the window, staring out at nothing. How could he explain how sorry he was? He could have killed his best friend. How could Benny forgive him for that? Ray turned, walked slowly back to the chair next to Benton's bed and leaned on it. "Look, if you don't want me here or to come round any more, just say and I'll go."
"Why would I want you to do that, Ray?" Benton looked puzzled.
"I shot you!"
"Yes, maybe, but unintentionally. Don't blame yourself. I don't. It was an accident."
"You don't blame me?" Ray was shocked.
"Not in the slightest."
Ray didn't know what to say. He looked at his friend and saw he didn't have to. Benton had gone back to sleep. Ray picked up his coat and started to leave. As he reached the door, he stopped and looked back. How many other people would forgive someone who had shot them? Caused the serious, even life-threatening injury? Then that was Benny, Ray mused.
As he left, Ray couldn't help but feel guilty. Something only he could deal with.. Alone.
Perfection of a Mountie
By Claire Mosley.
There he stood, a man outstanding many, His claret Royal Canadian Mounted
Policeman's uniform shone as the Tononto sun gleamed down. His comb-kissed hair lay perfectly under his sharp rimmed steston. Few wrinkles lined his forehead telling of his devotion to study and work. Black caterpillar eyebrows brush over his serpapt blue eyes - those eyes that glitter, that show - caves of endless secrets. Thick dark lashes that sweep tears. His lips caress his - teeth while
hot fresh breath billows from his lungs and rises on the crisp Canadian air. Ear
pierced but without stud to show his rebel streak. Brass buttons bold the perfect uniform in place. Freshly pressed pitch trousers hang over muscled legs.

The gun on his side is raised in unison with those of his comrades to aim
towards the clear crystal sky. An explosion sounds, the barrel erupts with fire and the Mountie's eye squints at the noise as his ears rumble with pain. Celebrations end. He mounts his satin horse with ease as he rides with pride alongside his comrades.

Soon they disperse after removing their uniforms, brushed and hanging ready for
their next glory. The Mountie now has 36 hours to fill and little thought of bow to fill them. Now his clothes are mundane, they won't gain admiring glances; now be must exit as a non-entity.

These will be 36 long hours - listless, dreary hours with no battle cry. Now his
legs don't seem so muscle bound, his eyes as blue, his teeth as white. Now his ears rumble with the pain of noisy silence and only the prospect of donning his heroism again helps him cope with normality.

There is no home outside the barracks, no family, no friends but in a few hours
he'll be himself again. A man outstanding many.
Ray's Journal
By Anastasia

Dear Benny,
Hey some guys write to their patron saint or even the Big Guy Himself...but then
I never was a very orthodox Catholic. Besides, this is a result of knowing you.

I don't know if you'll ever read this, or if you'll ever understand what
happened. Maybe it's just because I need to talk to you, Benny. The phone call was one hell of a way to say good-bye.

This is probably the single most stupid thing I've ever done. Anybody finds this
journal, I'm a dead man...I'll go insane without some outlet to my former life.

Former life. That's what it feels like already. Ma and Frannie and Maria and the
kids, even Tony, seem like good but distant memories,

My new life? It's dark and deadly. Nothing like I'd ever want to involve you in,
Benny. But don't be to hard on Welsh... he didn't want to ask this. Ultimately, it was my choice.

So, now I'm Louis Benedetto. Kinda fitting, cosidering that Louie was killed in
a Mob hit, don't you think? But this Louie ain't going out that way. This one is going to take them down instead. As of now, though, I keep a pretty low profile. To descibe this job I'd have to use the word 'goon'. My assignment demands that I at least reach the level of head 'goon,' which, considering my fellow goon, shouldn't be too difficult.

At the same time, Benny, I have to say I'm afraid. Afraid because I'm having to
do things I normally wouldn't be caught dead doing. For inatance, I have to drink with my 'associates.' I hate it. I'd rather eat your Grandma's fettucini alfredo!

There are worse things, too. Much worse. I won't get into them just yet. I need
to some time to sort them out in my head first, I think.

Ray Vecchio has to disappear for this to work. What if this swallows me whole?
What if I'm not the Ray you remember when I come back? Could you forgive me? I won't lie to you, Benny. Just like your Dad, I'm going to put down all of it...even the things I'm going to be ashamed of.

You know. I think as much as this journal could get me killed, it may be the
only thing that keeps me alive. I mean, I almost have to forget you, Benny. The Mob's no place for the lessons you've taught me about decency and friendship. It would cause me to hesitate, and I can't afford to hesitate. So only when I write in this can I even think about my other life...my family...my best
friend.

Ray



FOR THE LOVE OF VICTORIA By Diana Briggs.
The first time I saw her, my heart skipped a beat. I couldn't think of anything else except her, Victoria. Three nights, three days with no food, no shelter. Only each other to keep us warm. I was falling, falling madly in love. We felt ourselves dying in each other's arms. She said the sweetest things in a poem. And I was falling, falling madly in love.
As she put her sweet fingers in my mouth, I felt myself drifting into a trance. I wanted to let her go when she pleaded with me. I felt so wrong not to. I had a job, though, and I had to do it. But I was falling, falling madly in love.
When I walked her back to her hotel, I didn't want to let her go. When she knocked on the door, I was so surprised to see her again and we kissed. I never wanted the night to end. And we were falling, falling madly in love.
Then Diefenbaker got shot and Victoria disappeared, I felt so cheated. I could see she was using me but I thought I was wrong. When she jumped on that train, I thought my life was over. When she asked me to go with her, I didn't know what to do - leave Dief and Ray behind or go with my Victoria. Then I thought I'd never see her again and I was falling, falling madly in love.
I thought I'll risk my friendship and loyalty to be with her. I saw the bullet so I stepped in its way because I didn't want Victoria to get hurt. I understand why Ray fired that shot. He wanted to protect me and I was stupid enough to think of leaving this great friend behind. But I had fallen, fallen madly in love.
I felt myself dying. I wanted to go because Victoria wasn't here. The only way to stop the pain was to think about her, the three days and nights and the poem she recited. I had fallen, fallen madly in love.
I kept wishing and hoping she would come back but she never did. I'm grateful to Ray for helping the only way he could because he knew I had fallen, fallen madly in love.

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