Mix 'n Match Challenge, by Starfish
Jun. 1st, 2005 07:24 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
the-star-fish.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionWith apologies to ... everybody. Dedicated to my dearest BethH, who thinks there should be more stories that end like this one. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pearl_o and bayleaf for beta help. I? Am on crack.
The first thing Ray saw when he walked in the door was Frannie in full sail, with her arms piled high with folders and a get out of my way, idiot look on her face. He sidestepped quickly and said, "Hey, Frannie," as she passed him.
She reached her desk, plopped the folders down, and spit out the pencil she'd had between her teeth. "Hey yourself, Ray," she said. "How was your conference?" She perched on the edge of her desk with an expectant look on her face. "I've never been to Toronto -- never been much of anywhere, really. Did you have fun?"
Ray made a face. "It was okay. Saw the CN Tower, which is pretty hard to miss, actually. Mostly I sat in uncomfortable chairs, drank bad coffee, and tried to stay awake."
Frannie nodded. "I wish they'd send me somewhere like that. I saw a flyer about a seminar for Civilian Assistants, but Welsh won't even talk to me about it." She leaned closer. "I think he's still upset about the cappuccino machine exploding, if you want to know the truth."
"Yeah, he might be," he said, remembering the mess, and not especially wanting to hear the whole story again. "Speaking of Welsh, I should probably check in with him."
Frannie looked thoughtful. "He's on the phone with Thatcher right now, and you know how he gets when you interrupt him. Oh, hey, that reminds me -- you got a message here somewhere." She rummaged around and came up with a pink heart-shaped stickynote, which she handed to Ray. "It's from Fraser. You're supposed to go over to the 27th as soon as you get in."
Ray frowned. "Did he say what it's about?"
"Nope, just that you should go see him," Frannie said. "Tell him I said hi, okay? No, wait, not hi, hello. No, that's dumb. Tell him hi. Is that dumb?"
Ray had no intention of passing along either message, but keeping Frannie happy was important if you didn't want to get stuck with the shit duty all the time, so he shrugged noncommitally. Welsh's door swung open abruptly, saving him from a real answer. "Miss Vecchio, if my accountant calls -- ah, Kowalski, you're back."
"Yessir," Ray said. "Just got in."
"Well, you're not scheduled until tomorrow, so let's let Miss Vecchio get back to work, hmm?"
"Yessir," said Ray again. "I'm supposed to go see Fraser about something, anyway."
"Ah," said Welsh. "About that ..." The phone rang just then, and before Frannie could pick it up, Welsh grabbed it. "Canadian Consulate, Consulat du Canada, how can I -- Conrad?" he said. "Good. Don't hang up." He pushed the hold button and replaced the receiver. "Get over to the 27th, Kowalski. Speak to Captain Thatcher." He turned and vanished into his office before Ray could get a word out.
Ray turned to Frannie. "What was that about?"
She shrugged. "Something about his taxes, I guess." She opened the top file in the stack and wrinkled her nose. "I gotta get these done before five, so ..."
"Yeah, okay," said Ray. "But I got a bad feeling about this."
The 27th looked just the same, though, and Ray's bad feeling started to seem really dumb. He waved to a few uniforms he recognized, winked at the desk sergeant, and started up the stairs two at a time. On the landing he met Ovitz and Turnbull on their way down.
"Afternoon, gents," he said. "How's the crime-busting gig?"
Turnbull smiled. "Another fruitful day, Constable," he said.
"Yeah, right," Ray said. "Listen, have you seen Fraser?"
They exchanged a look. "Detective Fraser?" Ovitz said.
"Uh, yeah," Ray said. "Benton Fraser. The detective."
Another look. "Try the break room," Turnbull offered. Ovitz nodded.
"Okay, thanks," Ray said. "See you guys around." He continued up the stairs, wondering as he went how the two of them ever managed to find their car, let alone solve any crimes.
The break room was deserted except for a guy he didn't recognize at the soda machine, so obviously Plan B was to find Thatcher. He caught her coming up the back stairs.
"Constable, you've returned," she said dryly. "Upon reflection, I imagine that pleases me."
"Thanks, I think," Ray said. "Listen, have you seen Fraser?"
"Benton Fraser?" she said. Ray's bad feeling came back full-force.
"Yes, Benton Fraser, the detective -- what's going on?" he said. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine, Constable," Thatcher said. "As far as we know."
Ray counted to ten in his head, because he wasn't allowed to yell at Fraser's boss, even if she was the most aggravating person he'd ever met. "As far as we know?" he said carefully.
Thatcher frowned. "Didn't Inspector Welsh bring you up to speed?"
"No," Ray said, a bit louder than he'd intended. Thatcher sighed.
"My office," she said. Ray followed along behind her, trying not to freak out, because something was really wrong, Fraser'd been hurt maybe, or ... no, Frannie would have known about that, so maybe ...
Maybe Fraser didn't want to work with him anymore.
No, that was crazy, they were a team, partners, a duet. There had to be something else, some totally off-the-wall, only-happen-to-Fraser kind of thing going on.
"He's what?"
Thatcher tapped her pencil on her desk impatiently. "Un-der-cov-er," she said again, giving him a look like he was either feeble-minded or deaf or both. "The FBI --"
"Yeah, okay," Ray interrupted. He was pretty sure it wouldn't make sense even if she explained it again. No matter how much Fraser resembled this Burke guy, there was no way he could fake being a ski instructor and fool some shady chick into thinking he was her ex. "So what happens now?"
Thatcher looked behind him and made a 'come in' motion. Ray turned around to see the guy from the break room.
"Ray! Buddy!" the guy said, advancing on Ray and throwing his arms around him. Ray struggled to get free.
"Constable Kowalski, this is Detective Ian MacDonald," Thatcher said. "He'll be pretending to be Detective Fraser for the duration."
"Have you lost your freaking mind, lady?" Ray shouted.
Thatcher gave him a cool look. "I expect you'll get along famously," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a conference with my interior decorator." The next thing he knew, Ray found himself outside her door.
"So, Ray," said MacDonald, slinging his arm over Ray's shoulders. "How was Canada? Did I ever tell you I used to be a Mountie?"
Ray shrugged off the arm and took off down the hall at a run. "Hey, wait!" MacDonald yelled after him.
"Not a chance!" Ray yelled back. It was wrong, it was all wrong, and he had to fix it somehow, had to go back and fix it before it got worse. He took the stairs way too fast, and then his foot slipped, and he was falling, falling ....
"Ray, Ray, wake up, you're dreaming."
Ray's eyes opened just a crack. Okay, it looked like his bedroom. He felt a warm body up against his back and a hand on his shoulder. "You're dreaming, Ray," he heard again.
"Thank God," Ray said, rolling over. "No more cheesy 80's movies before bed, okay?" he said. Mort smiled fondly at him.
"Absolutely," he said.
"Good," Ray said, his racing heart beginning to slow. " 'Cause that was, like, the worst dream ever."
pearl_o and bayleaf for beta help. I? Am on crack.The first thing Ray saw when he walked in the door was Frannie in full sail, with her arms piled high with folders and a get out of my way, idiot look on her face. He sidestepped quickly and said, "Hey, Frannie," as she passed him.
She reached her desk, plopped the folders down, and spit out the pencil she'd had between her teeth. "Hey yourself, Ray," she said. "How was your conference?" She perched on the edge of her desk with an expectant look on her face. "I've never been to Toronto -- never been much of anywhere, really. Did you have fun?"
Ray made a face. "It was okay. Saw the CN Tower, which is pretty hard to miss, actually. Mostly I sat in uncomfortable chairs, drank bad coffee, and tried to stay awake."
Frannie nodded. "I wish they'd send me somewhere like that. I saw a flyer about a seminar for Civilian Assistants, but Welsh won't even talk to me about it." She leaned closer. "I think he's still upset about the cappuccino machine exploding, if you want to know the truth."
"Yeah, he might be," he said, remembering the mess, and not especially wanting to hear the whole story again. "Speaking of Welsh, I should probably check in with him."
Frannie looked thoughtful. "He's on the phone with Thatcher right now, and you know how he gets when you interrupt him. Oh, hey, that reminds me -- you got a message here somewhere." She rummaged around and came up with a pink heart-shaped stickynote, which she handed to Ray. "It's from Fraser. You're supposed to go over to the 27th as soon as you get in."
Ray frowned. "Did he say what it's about?"
"Nope, just that you should go see him," Frannie said. "Tell him I said hi, okay? No, wait, not hi, hello. No, that's dumb. Tell him hi. Is that dumb?"
Ray had no intention of passing along either message, but keeping Frannie happy was important if you didn't want to get stuck with the shit duty all the time, so he shrugged noncommitally. Welsh's door swung open abruptly, saving him from a real answer. "Miss Vecchio, if my accountant calls -- ah, Kowalski, you're back."
"Yessir," Ray said. "Just got in."
"Well, you're not scheduled until tomorrow, so let's let Miss Vecchio get back to work, hmm?"
"Yessir," said Ray again. "I'm supposed to go see Fraser about something, anyway."
"Ah," said Welsh. "About that ..." The phone rang just then, and before Frannie could pick it up, Welsh grabbed it. "Canadian Consulate, Consulat du Canada, how can I -- Conrad?" he said. "Good. Don't hang up." He pushed the hold button and replaced the receiver. "Get over to the 27th, Kowalski. Speak to Captain Thatcher." He turned and vanished into his office before Ray could get a word out.
Ray turned to Frannie. "What was that about?"
She shrugged. "Something about his taxes, I guess." She opened the top file in the stack and wrinkled her nose. "I gotta get these done before five, so ..."
"Yeah, okay," said Ray. "But I got a bad feeling about this."
The 27th looked just the same, though, and Ray's bad feeling started to seem really dumb. He waved to a few uniforms he recognized, winked at the desk sergeant, and started up the stairs two at a time. On the landing he met Ovitz and Turnbull on their way down.
"Afternoon, gents," he said. "How's the crime-busting gig?"
Turnbull smiled. "Another fruitful day, Constable," he said.
"Yeah, right," Ray said. "Listen, have you seen Fraser?"
They exchanged a look. "Detective Fraser?" Ovitz said.
"Uh, yeah," Ray said. "Benton Fraser. The detective."
Another look. "Try the break room," Turnbull offered. Ovitz nodded.
"Okay, thanks," Ray said. "See you guys around." He continued up the stairs, wondering as he went how the two of them ever managed to find their car, let alone solve any crimes.
The break room was deserted except for a guy he didn't recognize at the soda machine, so obviously Plan B was to find Thatcher. He caught her coming up the back stairs.
"Constable, you've returned," she said dryly. "Upon reflection, I imagine that pleases me."
"Thanks, I think," Ray said. "Listen, have you seen Fraser?"
"Benton Fraser?" she said. Ray's bad feeling came back full-force.
"Yes, Benton Fraser, the detective -- what's going on?" he said. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine, Constable," Thatcher said. "As far as we know."
Ray counted to ten in his head, because he wasn't allowed to yell at Fraser's boss, even if she was the most aggravating person he'd ever met. "As far as we know?" he said carefully.
Thatcher frowned. "Didn't Inspector Welsh bring you up to speed?"
"No," Ray said, a bit louder than he'd intended. Thatcher sighed.
"My office," she said. Ray followed along behind her, trying not to freak out, because something was really wrong, Fraser'd been hurt maybe, or ... no, Frannie would have known about that, so maybe ...
Maybe Fraser didn't want to work with him anymore.
No, that was crazy, they were a team, partners, a duet. There had to be something else, some totally off-the-wall, only-happen-to-Fraser kind of thing going on.
"He's what?"
Thatcher tapped her pencil on her desk impatiently. "Un-der-cov-er," she said again, giving him a look like he was either feeble-minded or deaf or both. "The FBI --"
"Yeah, okay," Ray interrupted. He was pretty sure it wouldn't make sense even if she explained it again. No matter how much Fraser resembled this Burke guy, there was no way he could fake being a ski instructor and fool some shady chick into thinking he was her ex. "So what happens now?"
Thatcher looked behind him and made a 'come in' motion. Ray turned around to see the guy from the break room.
"Ray! Buddy!" the guy said, advancing on Ray and throwing his arms around him. Ray struggled to get free.
"Constable Kowalski, this is Detective Ian MacDonald," Thatcher said. "He'll be pretending to be Detective Fraser for the duration."
"Have you lost your freaking mind, lady?" Ray shouted.
Thatcher gave him a cool look. "I expect you'll get along famously," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a conference with my interior decorator." The next thing he knew, Ray found himself outside her door.
"So, Ray," said MacDonald, slinging his arm over Ray's shoulders. "How was Canada? Did I ever tell you I used to be a Mountie?"
Ray shrugged off the arm and took off down the hall at a run. "Hey, wait!" MacDonald yelled after him.
"Not a chance!" Ray yelled back. It was wrong, it was all wrong, and he had to fix it somehow, had to go back and fix it before it got worse. He took the stairs way too fast, and then his foot slipped, and he was falling, falling ....
"Ray, Ray, wake up, you're dreaming."
Ray's eyes opened just a crack. Okay, it looked like his bedroom. He felt a warm body up against his back and a hand on his shoulder. "You're dreaming, Ray," he heard again.
"Thank God," Ray said, rolling over. "No more cheesy 80's movies before bed, okay?" he said. Mort smiled fondly at him.
"Absolutely," he said.
"Good," Ray said, his racing heart beginning to slow. " 'Cause that was, like, the worst dream ever."
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no subject
Date: 2005-06-01 11:38 pm (UTC)Yes, you're on crack!
no subject
Date: 2005-06-01 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-01 11:40 pm (UTC)*giggles*
This is insanely wonderful and NUTSO and crazy and I love every damn word of it.
*hugs you hard*
yay!
no subject
Date: 2005-06-01 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-01 11:58 pm (UTC)oh, god, I was eating dinner while reading this. I'm so glad I put the plate down before I got to that last paragraph. Mort? MORT? *cracks up*
No matter how much Fraser resembled this Burke guy, there was no way he could fake being a ski instructor and fool some shady chick into thinking he was her ex.
also, HA! Aspen Extreme! I saw that move so many years ago. I find it really odd how much of it has stuck with me.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 01:12 am (UTC)Reads third-to-last paragraph again.
::dies some more::
no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 01:29 am (UTC)Mort!fic!
::DIES::
Your mind, she is a strange thing, mon amie.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 01:51 am (UTC)Good show!
no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 01:59 am (UTC)and, hee!
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Date: 2005-06-02 02:05 am (UTC)*gasping for breath*
Wow! I don't know where it came from but that was great!
slasher :)
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Date: 2005-06-02 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 02:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 02:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 03:49 am (UTC)This was just awful in the *best* kind of way ever LOL!!!!
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Date: 2005-06-02 04:40 am (UTC)You are crackheaded and this was delightful! *g*
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Date: 2005-06-02 08:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 09:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 10:43 am (UTC)And yays for getting Ian MacDonald in there *g*
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Date: 2005-06-02 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 01:20 pm (UTC)He felt a warm body up against his back and a hand on his shoulder. "You're dreaming, Ray," he heard again.
It's all nice and then you write MORT? ::starts giggling helplessly:: And people blame me for putting images of Welsh & Turnbull making our in their heads.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-02 01:35 pm (UTC)I love the twisty wrongness of this.
Rock on!
no subject
Date: 2005-06-03 01:50 am (UTC)Heehee.
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Date: 2005-06-03 03:06 am (UTC)I, uh, was expecting RayV to be undercover as Det. Fraser (and was sort of hoping for some Ray/Ray).
But this was fun :)
no subject
Date: 2005-06-04 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-05 12:41 pm (UTC)Excellent!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-29 01:32 pm (UTC)This? Was hilarious! +is still giggling+
no subject
Date: 2007-04-29 01:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-30 04:31 am (UTC)*sporks brain*
*laughs, anyway*