RATED R
Ray Kowalski pulled the black GTO over to the curb in front of the apartment building and tapped the horn impatiently. Just a few seconds later, Fraser exited the apartment building and got into the car.
"Hey, Fraser. I almost didn't recognize you out of uniform." He gestured at the jeans and light blue t-shirt Fraser was wearing.
Ben grinned. "Well, it is my day off."
"Yeah, it's mine too," Ray said. "So why are we both going into the station house?"
"Well, you're going in because you wanted to catch up on your paperwork, and I'm going in because I said I would help you."
"Uh-huh. And the fact that Vecchio is working today too and you'll be able to see him has nothing to do with it, am I right?"
Fraser blushed and looked out the window without answering, and Ray grinned.
They drove for a while in companionable silence, until Ray pulled the car into the parking lot of a convenience store a block away from the station. "What are we doing here, Ray?"
"I need a Twinkie."
"A Twinkie? At 9:30 in the morning?"
Ray cut the engine and the two men got out of the car. "Yup. It's my breakfast."
"How can you eat a Twinkie for breakfast?"
"It's easy if you dunk it in your coffee." Ray smiled happily as they walked down the junk food aisle. Grabbing a package of Twinkies, he held it out towards Fraser. "Wanna try it?"
"No thank you. I already had breakfast."
"Let me guess. Scrambled eggs and toast?"
"Yes. And fresh fruit."
Ray sighed and shook his head. "And you call yourself a real cop."
They headed up the aisle towards the checkout, but stopped about halfway there when they heard shouting. "Just do what he said and we won't have to shoot you!"
There were two men at the front register, both holding guns. The first one was staring nervously out the window, watching the parking lot, the other one had his gun trained on the cashier, who was fumbling nervously with the key, trying to get the cash drawer open.
Silently, Kowalski cursed the fact that he wasn't carrying his regulation gun. He only had his backup gun, in its ankle holster. He slowly bent over, trying to get to his gun without drawing undue attention to himself.
"Ray," Fraser whispered.
"Fraser, as soon as we finish my paperwork, I am dragging your ass over to the Consulate to start processing the papers to get your permit to carry a gun in the States," Ray hissed back.
"Understood," Ben nodded.
They inched their way slowly up the aisle. They had made it almost to the end when they heard two screams. The first was the startled cry of a child, a little boy who appeared to be about six or seven years old as he came around the corner and saw the men with guns. The second scream came from his Mother. "Peter! Get back here!"
The man at the window turned rapidly, raising his gun, and suddenly everything seemed to move very fast. Ben dove for the boy, and Ray lunged at the woman, and they all four fell to the floor as a shot rang out.
The gunman at the register turned to the other man. "Patrick! What in the hell are you doing?!"
"I.. it... people just need to calm the fuck down!" his friend shouted back.
Ray sat up slowly, helping the woman sit up as well. "Are you okay?" He asked her.
"Yes," she nodded. She looked over Ray's shoulder. Fraser and the little boy were lying side by side on the floor. "Peter!"
The boy started crying. "Mommy!" He got up and ran over to her, and she grabbed him and hugged him, crying.
Fraser hadn't moved yet, and Ray felt his heart start beating a little faster. He crawled over to Fraser, trying to reassure himself. Fraser had hit the ground hard. He had probably just knocked the wind out of himself and was just a little dazed and slow to get up. Reaching Ben's side, Ray put a hand on his shoulder. "Fraser?"
Ben didn't move or answer.
Ray rolled him gently over onto his back. "Oh my God..."
There was a blood stain already spreading rapidly over Ben's t-shirt, and he looked up at Ray with eyes glazed with pain. "Ray," he whispered.
"Sssh. It's okay, Fraser," Ray replied. He eased the t-shirt out of the waistband of Ben's pants and gently pushed it up onto his chest. He could see a wound where the bullet had entered Ben's side, and he cursed quietly, then lowered the shirt back into place.
Up at the front of the store, the two men headed for the door at a run, then stopped abruptly. "Shit!" One of them swore, and Patrick raised his gun and fired again, into the parking lot.
His friend grabbed him and dragged him back inside as a few shots were returned. "You asshole! What are you doing? Those are cops out there!"
"I know that, Donald! So we can't go out there, and they sure as hell can't come in here!" He glanced up at the window again and swore violently. The cops were headed for the door.
Opening the door a crack and staying out of their line of vision, Patrick yelled "Don't come any closer! We've got people in here, and if you come any closer, we'll start shooting again!"
The cops moved back to their car, and Patrick and Donald moved up the aisle. "All right!" Patrick bellowed. "Anyone in this store get over here now!"
Three men and two women walked over to the aisle. "All right, everyone sit down," he ordered, and the customers rapidly complied.
"Okay," asked Patrick "who's in charge here?"
A man in his mid-forties answered "I'm Edward Lee. I own this store."
"Okay, Edward Lee. Is there a back door to this place?"
"There is, but someone broke in through it four months ago and robbed me, so I had it sealed shut."
"Fuck!" Patrick shouted.
"We've gotta get out of here, man!" Donald told his accomplice. "This place is going to be swarming with cops soon."
"It already is! Those cops are still out there, and you know a bunch of their friends are on the way. Shit!"
Ray spoke up. "Who cares about the cops? We need a paramedic in here."
Patrick glared down at Fraser. "What's wrong with him?"
"You shot him, you asshole!"
Patrick pointed his gun at Ray's head. "Shut up, or I'll shoot you, too."
Ray tensed, and Fraser grabbed his arm. "Ray, don't," he whispered.
Ray took a deep breath, consciously relaxing himself. "Please, man, just get someone in here to help my friend."
"Sorry," Patrick said. "No can do. No one's coming in or out of this place."
Ray looked over at Donald. "Please," he said quietly.
Donald shook his head. "No, Patrick's right."
Ray swore viciously.
"Ray?" Fraser whispered.
"It's all right buddy. I'll take care of you," Ray reassured him. He turned to face Mr. Lee. "Do you have any towels around here?"
"All I have are some kitchen towels a couple aisles over."
Ray nodded "They'll have to do."
Mr. Lee stood up, and Patrick jumped and pointed the gun at him. Lee froze in his tracks.
"Patrick, calm down and let the man go," Donald snapped.
Patrick gave him a dirty look, but lowered his gun. Mr. Lee went over to the other aisle and returned with a package of dish towels, which he handed to Ray.
"Thanks," Ray smiled at him, tearing open the package of towels. Removing one of them, he folded it in half, then pushed Fraser's t-shirt up to his chest again.
"Fraser, this is going to hurt like hell," Ray said nervously.
Ben gave him a small smile. "It's all right."
Ray took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, then pressed the towel firmly against the wound. Fraser made a small cry and drew a hissing breath in between his teeth, then fell silent.
"Fraser?"
"S'okay, Ray," Fraser whispered. His eyes drifted closed.
"Fraser? Fraser?!"
Ben didn't answer. With another curse, Ray sat down cross-legged and gently placed Ben's head in his lap. Ray pressed his fingers against Fraser's neck, feeling for a pulse. The beat under his fingers seemed fairly steady and strong, but Ray was still worried.
Patrick and Donald had retreated to the end of the aisle, where they were conferring in urgent whispers while still keeping an eye on the hostages. After a few minutes, the towel over Ben's wound was soaked through, and Ray took another folded towel and placed it over the first one, pressing down firmly.
Ben moaned and opened his eyes. "Ray?"
"It's okay, Fraser."
"I'm thirsty, Ray."
"Okay, buddy. I'll fix you up." He turned again to Mr. Lee. "Can you get us some water?"
"Sure." He rose to his feet, and Donald wheeled around to face him, raising his gun.
"Where are you going?"
"That man needs some water."
Donald considered this for a moment, then nodded. "All right, but I'm going with you." He escorted the owner to the cooler, where he grabbed a large bottle of water, stopping by the soda fountain on the way back get a straw. Mr. Lee walked back over to the aisle and handed the items to Ray.
"Thank you," Ray said gratefully. He unscrewed the cap from the bottle, then put the straw in, bending it so that Fraser could drink more easily.
"Here you go, Fraser," he said quietly, lowering the bottle. "Just take small sips, okay?"
"Mmm hmm." Raising his head slightly, Fraser sipped at the straw as instructed, then lay back down.
Ray removed another towel from the package and poured some water over it. He then wiped the towel over Ben's sweaty face.
"Thanks," Ben smiled up at him.
"No problem. You want another drink?"
"Please." Ben took a few more small sips, then lay back down again. He lay quietly for awhile, then a small, ironic smile crossed his face. "Well, it looks like I managed to spoil the date Ray and I had planned for tonight."
Kowalski grinned. "Yeah? Where were you going?"
"Giordanos."
"Really?" Ray raised his eyebrows. "No one can get in there, the waiting list is a month long. How did you get a reservation?"
"I didn't. Ray did."
"How did he pull that off?"
Ben grinned. "He said I was better off not knowing."
Ray laughed. "Yeah. You may be. So, Giordanos, huh? I hear that's a pretty romantic place. What's the special occasion?"
Ben shook his head. "There isn't one."
Ray rolled his eyes. "Fraser, you and Vecchio have been together for almost two years now."
"I know."
"The mushy, sappy honeymoon phase is supposed to be over."
Ben grinned slightly. "I know."
"The two of you really do make me sick, you know that, Fraser?"
"Yes, Ray. I know."
Ray Vecchio sighed as he continued his laborious efforts at typing. He remembered how excited he and Kowalski had been when they had busted that meth lab. But facing the mountain of paperwork that followed, he was beginning to wonder.
The only thing Ray hated more than paperwork was a visit to the file room, and that was the next event on his daily schedule. He grinned suddenly. Maybe he would make Kowalski do that. It would serve him right for being late.
Ray looked at his watch and frowned. Where was Kowalski, anyway? He was very late. But then again, he had picked up Benny on the way, and they had probably stopped to bust a Girl Scout for selling cookies illegally or something.
Ray shook his head and smiled. Benny could be so by-the-book in some ways, and in others he was... far less uptight and reserved. Ray gave up on typing for a few minutes as he leaned back in his chair, daydreaming about his and Benny's date that evening.
"Vecchio!"
Ray jumped guiltily at the sound of Lt. Welsh's voice, and turned quickly back to his keyboard. "Yes, sir?" he asked in his best 'I'm working very hard' voice.
"Put that paperwork aside for right now. A situation has developed at Lee's Market."
"A situation, sir?"
"Yeah, an armed robbery went bad, and the two perps are holding some hostages. The SWAT team wants some locals on the scene. You're coming with me."
"Yes sir." Ray grabbed his jacket and followed after Welsh, fighting back a smile. Of course he wasn't happy that there was a hostage situation, but anything that took him away from his paperwork and let him do some real police work was fine with him.
Ray Kowalski swore under his breath. Fraser had passed out again about five minutes ago, and now the towel was soaked through again.
Grimly, he folded another towel and placed it over the wound. "I'm sorry to keep hurting you like this, Fraser." he said quietly. "God, I hope this is working."
Ben's eyes blinked open and he stared up at Ray.
"Hey, Fraser. How are you doing?"
"Ray? Why is it so cold in here?" Ben asked.
"You're cold?"
Fraser nodded slightly. "Cold," he whispered.
Ray turned to look at Mr. Lee. "Do you have a blanket anywhere around here?"
The other man shook his head regretfully, then brightened. "Yes! There's one on the couch in the break room. I'll go get it."
He stood up, and Patrick jumped and turned his gun on him. "Where in the hell are you going?"
"I'm going to get a blanket. He needs one," Lee said, gesturing at Fraser.
"Where is it?"
"It's in the break room."
Patrick thought for a second, then shook his head. "No way. You're not going back there. Sit back down."
Ray looked over at him. "Give me a fucking break! He needs the blanket! Let the man go get it!"
"No way! How do I know he doesn't have a gun back there?"
"I don't," Mr. Lee said.
"No way are you going back there. Sit back down."
With an apologetic look at Ray, Lee sat down.
"Ray?" Fraser whispered. "Ray, what's the matter?"
"Nothing's the matter, buddy. You just hang in there, okay?"
"Cold, Ray. Cold."
"I know, Fraser. I'm sorry." Ray's hands were clenched into fists.
Donald sighed. "I'll get the fucking blanket. Where is this break room?"
"Through the doors next to the freezer, then on your left."
Donald went where instructed and in a short time came back, carrying the blanket. He dropped it unceremoniously on the floor next to Ray.
Ray gently draped the blanket over Ben, tucking it around his shoulders. "There you go, buddy. You'll be warm again in no time, all right?"
"Thanks, Ray," Ben whispered, and closed his eyes.
"Fraser? Stay with me, okay?"
"Tired, Ray."
"I know, but try to stay awake anyway, all right?"
"Tired... sleep." Ben's voice was fading.
"Fraser? Fraser?!" There was no answer.
Ray ran his hands through his hair. "Fuck," He whispered.
Lt. Welsh and Ray Vecchio crossed the parking lot of the convenience store, threading a path between the police cars, SWAT vans and ambulances.
A man of about 55, with the unmistakeable look of authority, approached them. "I'm Daniel Ryan, I'm the Commander on this mission. You from the 27th?"
"Yes. I'm Lt. Welsh, and this is Detective Vecchio." The men shook hands.
"What's the situation?" Welsh asked.
"There are two gunmen and an undetermined number of hostages. Several shots were fired from inside the store, but we don't know if anyone inside was hit. The communications team is setting up a phone line now."
He nodded in the direction of one of the police vans, and Ray and Welsh saw two men working over a box-like structure, hooking up a microphone.
"We want to get them on the speaker," Commander Ryan explained.
The three men headed over to the van and were almost there when Vecchio came to a dead stop. "Holy shit."
"What's the matter?" Welsh asked.
Ray pointed to the left. "That's Kowalski's car, Sir. He and Benny are in there."
Welsh swore. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, sir. I know that car. Plus, he and Benny were on their way into the station, and they're late."
"Shit," Welsh said softly.
"Yes, Sir."
"Who are this Kowalski and Benny?" Ryan asked curiously.
"They're two of my men," Welsh said.
Ray looked at him in surprise, then smiled.
"Detectives?"
"Yes. Well, one's a Detective, the other one's a Mountie."
Ryan opened his mouth to speak again, but Welsh cut him off. "It's a long story."
They continued over to the communications van, Ray trying to shake off the sudden feeling of dread in his stomach. Trust Benny to turn a simple Saturday of paperwork into a major crisis.
God, he hoped Benny was okay. He wished he knew what was going on inside that store.
Kowalski had been eyeing Patrick and Donald carefully, but turned quickly back to Fraser as he began to move weakly.
"Ray? Help me. Ray?" He opened his eyes and looked around him in confusion, then looked up at Kowalski. "What? Where's..."
Kowalski smiled at him ruefully. "Sorry, wrong Ray."
Ben returned his smile. "No, you're not."
"How are you doing, Fraser?"
"Don't know. It hurts, and I'm cold."
Ray frowned and reached down to feel Fraser's forehead. It did feel cold to his touch. He placed the back of his hand against Ben's cheek, and it too felt cool and clammy.
Fraser's breathing was also sounding shallow and labored, and Ray was getting scared. He looked over at Donald. "Hey," he called.
Donald walked over to them. "What?"
"We really need to get someone in here to take a look at him and help him. He's not doing too well at all."
"Look," Donald started, and at the moment the phone behind the counter began to ring, causing everyone in the store to jump.
Patrick picked it up on the fourth ring. "What?" he snapped into the receiver.
Donald hurried over to him and put the phone into speaker mode, so they could both hear what was going on.
"Hello, this is Dan Ryan. I'm a negotiator for the Chicago Police Department. Who am I speaking with?"
"Just call me Patrick."
"All right, Patrick. Is your friend there with you?"
"Yeah, he's here. What do you want?"
"Well, I need to find out what the situation in there is, and what you and your friend want."
"The situation in here is that my friend and I have guns, and hostages, and we want to get out of here without being shot or arrested."
"I think you know that we can't let you just walk away. But if you put down your weapons and surrender, we can end this thing with no one getting hurt."
"It's a little late for that," Patrick said.
"We know there were shots fired," Dan's voice said over the speaker. "Was somebody hit? You or your friend?"
"Excuse me," said Donald in exasperation "But I have a name. I'm Donald. Can we please stop calling me 'the friend'?"
"Absolutely, Donald," Dan agreed. "But was someone shot?"
"Yeah, one of the hostages." Patrick said. "But we didn't mean to shoot him. The asshole just kind of jumped in front of the bullet."
Vecchio, standing next to Commander Ryan, tensed, and his heart started to beat a little faster.
"How is he now?" Ryan asked.
"I don't know. He's really not looking that hot." Patrick sounded amused.
"Sir, we have a team of paramedics out here. Can we please send them in to take a look at the wounded man?"
"No. Absolutely not. That's just a chance for you to get some guns in here, and we're not gonna fall for that."
"We won't do that, we'll..."
"No!" Patrick cut him off. "We're not gonna talk about that anymore. We're going to talk about how you're going to get me and Donald out of here. And don't try jerking us around, because we'll know about it."
"Patrick..." Commander Ryan said.
"No. Donald and me got some talking to do."
"Patrick. Are you still there?"
"Yeah."
"Look, you and Donald talk all you want, but don't hang up, okay? Just leave the line open."
"Why, so you can eavesdrop? I don't think so."
"Well, then take down the number to this phone so you can call me back if you want to."
"Fine," Patrick said in disgust. He wrote down the number Ryan gave him, then hung the phone up with a slam.
He turned to look at Donald. "Man, we need to get a plan."
Outside at the communications van, Vecchio was staring down at the toes of his shoes and trying to get his heart to resume a normal beat. It just wasn't logical for him to assume that the injured man was Benny. Although jumping in the path of a bullet sounded just like something he would do. For that matter, it sounded like something Kowalski would do.
He looked over at Welsh. "I have a very bad feeling about this, Sir."
Welsh nodded. "Yeah, me too."
Ryan looked over at them. "Do you think it was one of your men?"
Welsh nodded. "Yeah. When it comes to situations like this, neither one of them has the strongest sense of self-preservation."
Ray looked away again, staring at the building. God, Benny. Please be okay.
Ray glanced down at Ben as Fraser cried out softly and awakened again. "Ray?"
"Right here, buddy. How you doing?"
Ben's eyes seemed focused far away, and Ray wondered if he even knew where he was. "Ray... Ray."
Kowalski briefly wondered which Ray Fraser was referring to. "Yeah, buddy. I'm right here. It's okay."
Fraser looked up and locked eyes with him. "Ray Vecchio. Tell him... tell him for me..."
"Oh no!" Kowalski exclaimed. "No you don't! Don't you dare start giving me messages to give to other people, you hear me? I'm especially not going to give him any mushy declarations of love. If you've got something you want to tell Vecchio, you tell him yourself."
"Ray..."
"No. If you want to use your energy on something, you goddam well use it on getting better and staying alive. Got that?"
A tiny smile crossed Ben's face. "Yes, Ray. Understood."
"Good."
Ben's eyes drifted closed again.
"Fraser?!"
"I'm right here, Ray. Would you please stop yelling at me?"
Ray grinned. "Sorry, but sometimes it's the only way to get through that thick Mountie skull of yours."
Fraser laughed slightly, then gasped in pain.
"God, Fraser! Are you all right?"
"I don't think so, Ray."
"Oh, God. All right, buddy. You just hang in there for a little while longer. I'm going to get you some help, okay?"
"'Kay."
Ben's voice was only a whisper, and Kowalski frowned.
"Hey, Donald!" He called, and the other man walked over to him.
"Yeah?"
"We really need the paramedics in here. Just look at him."
Patrick strolled over and looked down at Ben. "He don't look too bad to me."
With a conscious effort, Ray let the remark pass. He looked back up at Donald. "Come on. It's best for you, if you think about it. It will let the cops know you're reasonable. And it could go bad for you if he..."
Ray swallowed. "Look, just let the paramedics come in here and help him."
Donald stared down at them for a long moment, then walked up front to the phone and dialed in the number Commander Ryan had given him.
"Hello? Donald? Patrick?"
"Yeah, it's Donald. Look the guy that was shot ain't doing too great. I think we need to have the paramedics come in here."
"All right."
"But I'm warning you, don't pull any shit. If they come in armed, or bugged, we'll shoot them, too, and we'll let the hostage die."
"Of course. They'll be unarmed. They'll only have the medical equipment needed to treat the victim."
Donald frowned as he heard a muffled voice in the background. "What was that?"
"Donald, do you have the name of the victim?"
"What does it matter?"
"Well, I've got some concerned people here. It might help if you would tell us."
Donald shrugged and looked over at Patrick, who was still standing next to Fraser and Ray. Patrick sighed and looked down at Fraser. "Hey, what's your name?"
Fraser's eyes flickered open. "What?" he whispered.
"Pay attention, here! What's your name?" He kicked Ben in the leg, and Ben flinched, then cried out quietly.
"Goddamit!" Kowalski cried. "Leave him alone!"
"S'okay, Ray," Ben whispered.
"Look, I'm not going to ask you again. What is your name?"
"I'm Const-"
Ray reached out and pressed down hard on the towel covering Fraser's wound, and Ben cried out and fell silent.
"His name's Fraser, all right? Benton Fraser. Now back the fuck off."
Patrick laughed. "Benton? Your first name is Benton? Man you just can't catch a break, can you?" He walked towards the front of the store, still laughing.
Ray looked back down at Fraser. He was completely white, and sweat had broken out on his forehead. "Jesus, Fraser. I'm sorry!"
Ben looked up at him, an expression of understanding on his face. "It's okay, Ray," he said, his voice the barest of whispers. "You had to. You..."
Ben's voice trailed off as he again lost consciousness.
"Fraser? Oh my God. Oh my God." Ray closed his eyes and prayed that the paramedics would get there in time.
At the communications van, two tense men were standing beside Commander Ryan. Suddenly, they heard the voice of Patrick coming over the speaker.
"Okay, we've got the name of the guy. Get this. The poor fuck's name is Benton. Can you believe that? Someone actually named their kid Benton. Benton Fraser."
Welsh looked quickly over at Ray, who had gone pale and was looking at the speaker in a kind of helpless anger.
"How badly is he injured?" asked Commander Ryan.
"How should I know? I'm not a doctor. But I gotta tell you, he really ain't looking too good."
Ray swallowed heavily and closed his eyes.
"All right, the paramedics will be in shortly. We'll let you know when they're approaching the door so there won't be any surprises, all right?"
"There damn well better not be any surprises." There was a sharp click as the phone was hung up.
Ryan picked up his radio and informed the paramedics that they had been given permission to enter the building.
Ray stood staring at them as they loaded their medical equipment on a stretcher and headed towards them. Suddenly, he spun around to face Welsh and Ryan, a spark lighting up his eyes.
"Lieutenant, Commander, I have an idea..."
Ray barely registered the paramedics entering the store and Patrick and Donald frisking them and checking through their medical bags. All his attention was focused on the unconscious man before him.
But as they started down the aisle, Ray looked up at them. The first was an impossibly young-looking black man, and the second...
Kowalski felt his heart turn over in his chest. The second paramedic was a six-foot, balding, green eyed Italian American. Kowalski swore silently. What in the hell was Vecchio doing?
He watched Ray as the two men walked towards him, and saw his eyes darting quickly around the store, checking the aisles around them, the layout of the store, and the hostages.
Ray took a quick breath, and looked up at the two men as they reached him and Fraser. "Hey," he said calmly.
"Hello," said the first paramedic, kneeling down next to Ben. "Let's see what we can do to help the patient, okay?"
Ray nodded and looked over at Vecchio. Although he seemed outwardly calm, Kowalski could see the pain in his eyes- and the anger. 'Jesus, Vecchio.' He thought to himself. 'Hold it together!'
Vecchio met his eyes, and Kowalski casually reached down and scratched his right ankle. Vecchio gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, then turned his attention to Fraser.
The first paramedic- Scott, according to his name tag- spoke again. "How long has he been unconscious?"
"About ten minutes. This time."
"This time?" Ray asked.
"Yeah. He's been in and out since that asshole shot him."
"Watch it," said Patrick warningly.
The paramedic lifted the blanket off Fraser and tossed it aside. Ray heard a slight hiss from Vecchio as the other man drew a quick, pained gasp. Fortunately, neither Donald or Patrick heard it.
"Is there an exit wound?" asked the first paramedic.
"I don't know," Ray replied. "I didn't check for one. I was afraid to move him around too much."
"That was very wise," Scott assured him.
"I think there might be one, though." Kowalski's voice was shaking slightly. "It looks like I stopped the bleeding with the towels, but there's still blood coming from somewhere."
"Okay, we'll check," Scott said.
He and Vecchio rolled Fraser gently onto his side, and Kowalski pushed his shirt up his back, exposing a ragged wound.
"Oh, God," Kowalski whispered when he saw how it was bleeding. "I should have checked."
"No," Scott told him. "You did the right thing."
He quickly and carefully applied a bandage to the wound, then the three men gently rolled Fraser onto his back again.
Fraser moaned quietly and began to stir. "Hurts," he whispered. "Hurts."
Ray Vecchio closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, the calm mask was back in place.
"Mr. Fraser?" Scott said loudly. "Can you hear me? Mr. Fraser?"
Ben's eyes blinked open, and when he saw the paramedic kneeling over him, he gasped slightly, then winced.
"It's all right," the man reassured him. "My name is Scott Peterson. I'm a paramedic, and I'm here to help you, okay?"
Ben nodded slightly, and his gaze wandered away. When he saw Vecchio, a look of surprise and confusion crossed his face. "Ray?" he whispered, and Vecchio tensed slightly.
"I'm right here, Fraser," said Kowalski.
Ben looked up at him, and a faint glimmer of understanding crossed his face. "Oh, right," he said.
Kowalski smiled down at him, and Ben looked back over at Vecchio, and kept his eyes locked on him.
"Okay, Mr. Fraser, first thing I'm going to do is get an IV started, all right?" Scott said.
"Mmm," Fraser said, his eyes not leaving Ray.
Vecchio smiled and winked at him.
Scott quickly got the IV started, then turned on the oxygen tank and handed the mask to Vecchio.
"Here," Ray smiled at Ben, "we're going to give you some oxygen now, okay? That should make you more comfortable."
Kowalski was surprised at how calm and even Vecchio's voice was.
Vecchio placed the mask over Fraser's mouth and nose, then adjusted the strap, brushing the back of his fingers lightly against Ben's cheek as he removed his hand.
"Shoud we remove the towels?" Kowalski asked.
"No, we need to leave them in place," Scott told him. "They may have started the blood clotting, and we don't want to start the bleeding again by removing them. We'll let them take care of it in the emergency room."
Ray Vecchio removed a large gauze bandage and bandage tape from the medical kit as Scott checked Ben's vital signs.
"Mr. Fraser," Scott said. "We need to apply a bandage to that wound. I'm sorry, but it's probably going to hurt you."
Ben gave a small nod.
Scott applied the bandage to the wound, taping it firmly into place over the towels, and Ben's eyes closed and he went limp.
"Fraser?" Kowalski said sharply, and Ben stirred slightly.
"Mr. Fraser? Can you hear me? Try to stay with us," said Scott.
Ben's eyes blinked open again, and he looked at Vecchio, who smiled slightly and gave him a firm nod. "That's right. You stay right here."
Ben gave another tiny nod.
Scott and Vecchio lifted Ben onto the stretcher and stood up, raising the stretcher to its full height.
"Hey, whoa!" Patrick said, stepping towards them. "Where do you think you're going?"
"We're taking him to the hospital." Scott seemed surprised at the question.
"No way! He's not leaving! I said you guys could come in here and treat him, I didn't say anything about taking him out!"
Vecchio spun about to face him, and Kowalski jumped to his feet.
"Come on, man. Let him go!" Kowalski snapped.
"Why should I?"
"Because, he needs to go the hospital and get treatment. Isn't it obvious? Just look at him. Look at what you did to him."
Patrick looked at him with a very nasty grin on his face. "Oh, are you begging me?"
Kowalski didn't hesitate. "Yes. I'm begging you. Please, let the paramedics take him out of here so he can get the help he needs."
Patrick laughed and turned away.
Scott joined the conversation. "We need to get this man to the hospital; and as quickly as possible. His blood pressure is dropping, his heart rate is rising- he's in hypovolemic shock. If we don't get him to a hospital soon, he'll die."
Kowalski looked over at Donald. "Please," he said quietly. "Let him go. You've got no beef with him. He didn't do anything to you. Come on, he doesn't deserve this."
Donald looked at him for a minute, then looked over at Fraser. Finally,he nodded. "Okay. Get him the hell out of here."
Patrick spun back around. "What?!"
"Think of it this way," Donald told him. "We could be saving our own asses. Like he said before, we're in enough trouble already without having a hostage die on us. You want to add murder to the list?"
Patrick started grumbling again.
"Shut up," Donald said quietly, and Patrick lapsed into silent fuming.
Ray Vecchio and Scott moved to opposite ends of the stretcher, and Scott pulled out his two-way radio. "Base, this is Peterson. We're coming out, and we're bringing the wounded hostage with us. It's just the three of us, and we're unarmed."
From outside, they could hear the voice of the commander over the bull horn. "Hold your fire. I repeat, all officers, hold your fire!"
Kowalski grabbed Vecchio's arm, and Ray looked at him in surprise. "You take good care of him," Kowalski ordered.
Ray nodded. "You know I will."
"Yeah." Kowalski watched as Fraser was wheeled from the store, than slowly sat back down. Looking down, he saw a large stain on the leg of his jeans. It was blood. Fraser's blood.
Ray closed his eyes and focused all his energy on not vomiting.
Ray and Scott pushed the stretcher across the parking lot as quickly as they safely could. They were about halfway to the ambulance when the Commander approached them.
"Detective Vecchio, I need to get your assessment of the situation."
Ray nodded, his eyes not leaving Benny. "All right, I'll be right there."
"Detective, we need it right away."
The Commander placed a hand on Ray's arm, and Ray wrenched it free. "I'll be there in a minute! Now back off!!"
Lt. Welsh stepped up to the Commander as Ray and Scott continued on their way. "Come on, Dan. It can wait just another couple of minutes."
Ray and Scott brought the stretcher to a stop just outside the ambulance, and Ray looked down at his lover regretfully.
"Benny, I've got to stay here for a little while, let them know what's happening inside. But I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?" He ran a hand through Benny's hair.
Benny nodded and reached up and started pulling off his oxygen mask.
"No, Benny," Ray said, placing his hand firmly over Benny's. "Leave that in place."
The hand under his was insistent, though, so Ray let Benny remove the mask.
"Ray..." Ben's voice was barely a whisper, so Ray leaned down so that he could hear him. "I love you."
Ray smiled warmly through the tears in his eyes. "I love you too, Benny."
He placed a gentle kiss on Benny's lips, then put the oxygen mask back in place. "I'll be right there, love," he said.
Benny gave another small nod, and closed his eyes with a sigh.
Ray turned to Scott. "What hospital are you taking him to, Memorial?"
"No, we're going to take him to Chicago General."
Ray was surprised. "Isn't Memorial closer?"
"Yes, but not by much, and General has a trauma unit, and that will give him a better chance."
Ray paused, taken aback, then nodded. "All right." His voice was hoarse. "Thanks. Thanks for going in after him."
Scott smiled. "Hey, it's my job."
Ray doubted that walking unarmed into a tense hostage situation was actually in the man's job description, but he let the remark slide.
He stood watching as Scott and the other paramedic finished securing Benny in the back of the ambulance. It took all of Ray's strength not to run after the stretcher and jump in the ambulance.
He stood, numbly watching as the ambulance pulled away, then turned and walked back over to where Commander Ryan and Lt. Welsh were standing.
"All right, what's the situation?" asked Ryan.
Ray gave the man the details, all business again. "As you know, there are two gunmen. One of them, Donald, seems fairly reasonable, but the other one, that asshole Patrick, seems ready to blow at any time. There are eight hostages, counting Kowalski, and they're all in the same aisle. Aisle two, which is just to the left as you walk through the door. There are two aisles to the right of it, and one to the left, but they're empty."
"Is Detective Kowalski armed?" asked Ryan.
"He has his backup gun, in an ankle holster."
The Commander sighed. "I hope he doesn't try any stupid heroics."
Ray glared at him. "He wouldn't do that!"
"All right," Ryan said in an apologetic tone. "We've established fairly decent communications with the two gunmen, if we keep those lines open, hopefully we can end this situation peacefully."
Vecchio nodded. "If Donald can keep his friend fairly calm and get him to listen, I think you've got a good chance at it."
Ryan nodded.
"Am I needed here for anything further?" Ray asked.
"No, you can go, Detective."
"Thanks." He turned to Welsh. "Sir?"
"You just get to the hospital, Vecchio," Welsh smiled.
"Yes, Sir. I have my cell phone if you need to reach me."
"All right. Let me know how Fraser is doing, okay?"
"I will." Ray headed across the parking lot, but turned around at the sound of Welsh's voice.
"Vecchio?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Get a patrol car to drive you over."
"Yes Sir."
Lt. Welsh and Commander Ryan went back over to the phone to try to re-establish communications with Donald and Patrick, and Ray headed out for the hospital so he could be near his lover.
Kowalski shifted slightly on the floor. It had been about half an hour since Vecchio and Scott had taken Fraser out, and the situation inside the store was beginning to deteriorate.
There was an air of overall tension, which was growing steadily. Patrick and Donald had been on the phone with Commander Ryan for a while; with Ryan trying, unsuccessfully, to convince the two men to surrender.
What concerned Ray the most was the growing tension between Patrick and Donald. Donald seemed willing to at least consider giving up, but Patrick was flat-out refusing to listen.
Things were getting more and more heated between the two men, and that made the situation more dangerous than anything else. If things were different, he would watch the men for a chance, and then make a move of his own, but he couldn't do that with all the other hostages in the room. He just would not take that risk.
Ray sighed again and leaned back against the shelf. His tension level rose still further as he heard Patrick yelling yet again. "No way! Go to hell, Donald!"
Patrick stormed to the back of the store and grabbed a Coke out of the cooler and walked back up the aisle drinking it.
He stopped and glared at Ray. "What the fuck are you looking at?"
"I just wondered if I could talk to you, man."
"About what?"
"Don't take this the wrong way, but I want to see if I can get you to listen to reason."
Patrick started to glare at him, but then he grinned. "What?" He sat down across from Ray.
"You have to know that there is no way those cops are going to let you two just walk away from here. There are only two ways this can end. One way you're alive, one way you're not."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do."
"Oh, what are you? A cop?"
Ray rolled his eyes. "That's right. I'm a cop."
Patrick laughed.
"But they are not going to let you out of here. So you can walk out of here peacefully- which, by the way will go a long way towards getting you a lighter sentence. Or you can go down fighting, which will get you injured or maybe even killed; and endanger the lives of these people."
Patrick shifted uncomfortably and glared at Ray again.
"Come on, think about it. I'm sure that they've got tear gas out there that they won't hesitate to use if they have to. They've even got sharpshooters out there. And if they know you're not going to surrender, and they think the hostages' lives are in danger, they'll kill you as soon as they get a clear shot."
"I don't want to go to jail," Patrick said, but his voice had lost much of its sureness.
"It's better than going to the morgue."
Patrick stared at him for a minute, then looked over the at other people sitting around them. He glanced up to see Donald standing there.
"He's right, man," Donald said quietly.
Patrick sat looking from one man to the other for a few minutes, while Kowalski held his breath. Finally, Patrick stood up and slowly walked to the front of the store. He picked up the phone and dialed. "Yeah, Ryan. This is Patrick. I think we should talk."
Kowalski walked slowly down the hallway to Fraser's room and paused outside the door.
After Donald and Patrick had surrendered, Ray had been forced to stick around the market, answering questions, then he had gone to the station house to give his formal statement.
After he had done that, he had gone home for a shower and to change his clothes. He had called the hospital before leaving his apartment and been told that Fraser was out of surgery and "resting comfortably". Whatever the hell that meant.
Drawing a quick breath, Ray stepped into the room. He stopped a few steps inside the door, staring at Fraser in dismay. If anything, he looked even worse than he had in the convenience store.
Maybe it was because he was wearing one of those stupid ugly hospital gowns, or maybe it was all the tubes and IVs running in and out of him, or the oxygen cannula that was helping him breathe.
Ray found the sight hard to deal with. Fraser was supposed to be chasing some pickpocket miles and miles over city streets. He was supposed to be telling a suspect a long, boring Inuit story so that the perp would surrender as a form of self-preservation. He was not supposed to be lying, looking so pale and helpless, in a hospital bed.
Ray glanced away from Fraser to Ray Vecchio, who was sitting in a chair pulled up next to the bed. He had one of Fraser's lax hands in his, and he was gently stroking Fraser's hair, over and over.
Kowalski got the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that he was intruding on a personal moment. He turned quietly and had taken two steps when he was halted by the sound of Vecchio's voice.
"Hey, Kowalski."
Ray turned around.
"Come on in."
Kowalski shook his head. "That's okay. I uh... I can just..." He gestured towards the door.
Vecchio smiled at him. "Just get in here, Kowalski."
Ray nodded and walked slowly over to the bed.
Vecchio watched him as he approached. Welsh had called Vecchio and told him that the situation had ended peacefully, and that it had been Kowalski who had talked the gunmen into surrendering. Vecchio shook his head. If he had to have a partner, he could do a lot worse.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Kowalski nodded. "Yeah. I'm great."
"How did you get in here, anyway?" Vecchio asked curiously. "I was only allowed in because I'm next of kin."
Ray nodded. "I thought that might be a problem, so I just hung around until the nurses had a shift change, then I showed the new nurses on duty this." He held out a police badge identifying him as Raymond Vecchio.
Vecchio grinned. "You kept that? I'm honored."
"Yeah, that's why I did it." Kowalski glanced down at Fraser. "Uh, how's he doing?"
Ray's smile faded. "The doctor said he's going to be fine. He had a lot of internal bleeding; and they had to remove his spleen." He tightened his grip on Fraser's hand and began stroking his hair again.
"But they did manage to get the bleeding stopped. They had to give him a bunch of transfusions; and he has an infection going, so they're giving him antibiotics through his IV."
Ray looked down at Fraser again, and he cleared his throat. "The doctor also said that if you hadn't helped him like you did, given him that first aid and stopped the bleeding as much as you did that Benny probably would have..."
Vecchio's voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat again, then looked up to meet Ray's eyes. "You saved his life, Kowalski."
Ray suddenly felt almost shy. "Well, I... uh..."
"I owe you."
"No, you don't. Nobody owes me anything."
Ray pressed Fraser's hand against his lips briefly. "Yes, I do."
Kowalski sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, and the two men lapsed into silence, both of them watching Ben.
About half an hour had passed when Ben started to stir slightly in the bed, and he moaned softly. "Ray?" He whispered. "Ray?"
"I'm here, Benny. I'm right here."
Ben opened his eyes and stared up at him uncertainly.
"Benny?"
Ben looked down at his and Ray's joined hands. "Ray? You're really here?"
"Yes, Benny. Of course I am. Where did you think I'd be?"
"I thought maybe I was hallucinating, or dreaming you again."
"Do I look like a dream to you, Benny?" Ray grinned.
"Yes." He smiled and let his eyes drift closed again.
"How do you feel, Benny?" Ray asked anxiously.
"It hurts."
"What hurts?"
"Everything hurts, Ray."
Ray kissed the back of Ben's hand again, then held it against his cheek. "I know, but it's going to be okay, Benny. You're going to be just fine."
Ben lay quietly for a minute, thinking. "I was shot, right?"
"That's right," Ray said, a slight catch in his voice.
"I remember... we were in the store. We..." Ben tensed suddenly, and his eyes flew open. "Ray!"
"It's okay, love. I'm here."
"No. Kowalski!"
"I'm right here, Fraser," Kowalski said.
Ben turned to face him. "Ray. Are you okay?"
"Yes, Fraser. I'm fine."
Ben looked him over carefully. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Fraser. I'm all right."
Ben's eyes slid closed again, and he sighed. "Thank God."
The three men were quiet for a few moments, until Fraser spoke again. "It's over?"
"Yeah, Fraser. It's over. About an hour after you were... after you left, Donald and Patrick surrendered. Nobody else was hurt."
"Good." Fraser opened his eyes and looked up at Kowalski, a very small grin crossing his face. "Did you get your Twinkie?"
Before Ray was able to even begin to form an answer, a nurse stepped into the room.
"Oh, good," she smiled at Ben. "You're awake."
She paused a few steps into the room as she saw the two men on either side of the bed. "What are you both doing in here? This patient is only supposed to have one visitor at a time." She flipped a few pages on the chart.
"Which one of you is Ray Vecchio?" The nurse asked, and was very surprised when all three men started to laugh.
Return to Home
Page