Title: BYGONES
Author: Grey
Pairing: Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Rating: NC-17

Summary: Ray is brutally attacked and injured by man he once arrested. He recovers with the help of Fraser.

Warnings: This story has graphic violence, rape, and is hugely h/c in nature. There are also explicit sex scenes. While most of the story deals with Ray's recovery, there are still some pretty intense sections.

Notes: Thanks to Bast and XFreak for their support both in and out of fandom. This novel was first publish by AngelWings Press and can be purchased through LionHeart Distribution at http://www.lionheartdistribution.com/duesouth.htm

Bygones
by Grey
Grey853@aol.com

Lt. Welsh rubbed his eyes and stared at the last stack of folders. Eleven o'clock at night after a long shift and he still sat at his desk doing paperwork. Oh, the joys of being a cop running a station.

Welsh's attention shifted as Ray Vecchio, aka Ray Kowalski, stormed into the bullpen, his face tight and pinched. Still wearing his black leather jacket, the young detective picked up the phone and started punching in numbers.

Frowning, the Lieutenant shook his head, dreading his next action. He pulled out two of the key folders and stood up. Then he opened his door and yelled across the nearly deserted space, "Vecchio. My office."

Ray held up a finger. "Just a minute, sir. I'm on hold."

"Get in here. Now." The commanding tone left no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Ray hung up, ran a restless hand through his blond spikes, and moved closer. He didn't step past the larger man as he crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders. "What's up, sir?"

"Good question, Detective. We need to talk." Welsh motioned for Ray to go inside. "After you."

Ray followed orders, but didn't sit down, his face guarded. Wary, his whole body tightened. "This about the coffee machine spraying Dewey, 'cause I was out of the building at the time of the incident. You got motive, but no opportunity. Not that I wouldn't have enjoyed the show, but I swear I didn't do nothin' to cause it. Dewey's just paranoid, not a good thing for a cop to be, if you hear what I'm sayin' here, sir."

Welsh chuckled to himself, remembering the earlier high jinx of the day when Detective Dewey doused himself with an explosion of fresh coffee. Not hot enough to do any real damage, it did warrant a surprisingly effective scream and round of chortles that made him grin in spite of himself.

Glancing over at the anxious Kowalski, his mind settled back to the more serious business at hand. Welsh cleared his throat, uneasy, needing to tread carefully if he wanted this to end well. "No, this isn't about Dewey." He studied his detective and his concerned deepened. Always slim, Kowalski looked even thinner, more pale, his blue eyes sunken and bruised. He needed a comb through his wild hair and a shave was called for, but nothing new there. Still, the overall effect disturbed him, set Welsh's cop senses tingling. "You okay, Detective?"

"I'm fine, sir, fit to go. Thanks for askin'. That all?"

"No, that's not all. You got a watch?"

"Sure."

"What time is it?"

Surprised by the question, Ray looked over at the clock on the wall and then back at Welsh before checking his own watch. He cocked his head with suspicion. "Is this a trick question?"

"No, this is not a trick question."

"Okay, then. It's 11 P.M., give or take a few minutes."

"And your shift ended when?"

Understanding dawned. "Five o'clock, same as yours, sir."

"I'm here doing quarterly reports and digging out from under a ton of forms that are my life. What's your excuse?"

Ray avoided Welsh's stare. "Just following some last minute leads on the Wellman case."

"And what about last night and the night before?"

"Sir?"

Welsh picked up a folder and opened it. "While the citizens of Chicago appreciate your dedication to duty, Detective, they can't afford it."

"I don't follow."

"You're maxed out on overtime and apparently you've now hit the record high on comp time as well. Personnel tells me you've got to take some days off or you're going to break the budget." Welsh's brow furrowed as he read the actual figures, wondering how the hell he'd missed that. "Says here you haven't taken a day off in over a month." He looked up at Ray. "What? You saving up for something special I should know about?"

"Just a rainy day, sir." Ray relaxed slightly. "Look, I'm just doing the job, Lieutenant. Lots of bad guys to catch, bad guys that are bigger and badder and don't like being caught. Takes more time than it used to. You know how it is. Pitter patter. Not enough hours in the day."

"You're not the only cop in the city of Chicago, Vecchio."

Ray flinched at the use of his undercover name, the name he didn't really own, a name that didn't fit into his head yet. "I know that. I'm not saying different. It's just that I've had a run of good luck and don't want to jinx it."

"Jinx it? Since when did you become superstitious?"

"I didn't. I'm not. It's just an expression. Don't go Canadian on me here, sir. I get enough of that from Fraser."

"Speaking of our liaison officer from the Great White North, where is Constable Fraser?"

"At the Consulate most likely. I'm not his keeper." The words came out more sharp than he intended.

"Does he know you've been pulling double shifts with no leave time?"

"What he doesn't know and all that. He has his own life. It's not like I need him around every minute of the day and night, not that he wouldn't do that if I asked. I'm just not asking. No need to."

Welsh rubbed his chin and shook his head, wishing like hell he'd picked up on all this sooner. "Look, Detective, you need to take a couple of days off, get rested."

"I'm in the middle of a case."

"And sadly the case will still be here when you get back, along with a myriad of others, I assure you." Welsh paused and raised a hand to stall the protest. "Which brings me to the other troublesome situation."

"What other situation?"

"Your appointment with Human Resources. You've missed the last two scheduled appointments. I got a rather colorful phone call from a Dr. Reese. Wants to know if you want to stay on the streets or be put on a desk until you take care of the mandated sessions. What should I tell him?"

Ray paced the room in frustration, the energy pouring off his body, his words fast and clipped. "IA cleared me in the shooting, sir. I don't see why I have to see some head jockey who doesn't know shit about what we deal with out there. I did what I had to. What's he going to do, tell me to cry and get it out of my system, not to feel guilty for shooting a kid with a loaded AK 47? I got nothin' to feel guilty about. It's a stupid rule."

Welsh kept his expression neutral, but noted Ray's shaking hands and the strained voice. "No reason for you to feel guilty, Vecchio, but it's a rule for a reason. You shot an armed suspect. Sure you were cleared, but taking a life for whatever reason, especially when it's a 14-year-old boy, tends to trouble those of us who've been conditioned to protect and serve the public. The docs are there to make sure you deal with it appropriately, like maybe not working yourself to death to compensate for the guilt you say you're not feeling."

"I'm not doing that. I'm not. This has nothing to do with shooting the kid. Trust me. I'm good about that. I've just got a lot of cases to clear, that's all."

"But you're not going to do that if you don't see the doctor, because you'll be chained to a desk indefinitely. Those are my orders. I don't make the rules. I just enforce them." Welsh handed him a pink slip. "You have an appointment at 9:30 tomorrow morning. I've promised the good doctor that you'll be there. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't make me into a liar. Take Fraser if you want. Take the next two days off. I need you rested, not looking like you're an escapee from the morgue on a busy night."

Anger flushed his cheeks. "I clear more cases than anyone in the station."

"Yes, you do. You're a good cop even if you do manage to piss off more people than anyone I've ever met. Nobody's saying you're not a good cop, Vecchio, but what good is that if it's carved in a headstone?"

"I'm fine."

"You're exhausted and I'm tired of looking at your sorry mug day in and day out." Welsh's voice softened. "Look, Ray, you get tired, you make mistakes, do something stupid. Just go home and get some sleep, maybe go to a ballgame or work on that car you love so much. Find a pretty girl and have a good time. Do whatever it takes to forget about this place for a while. Believe me, the job will always be here."

Ray refused to meet his eyes. "You saying I have to take the time even when I don't want to?"

Welsh sighed in frustration. "That's what I'm saying, yeah."

Wadding the pink paper into a ball, Ray threw it in the trash. "I just want to work and everybody acts like I'm breaking their balls or something. I don't get that."

"See Reese in the morning. Come back in a couple of days. That's an order. I see your face around here before then, I'll put you on medical leave myself. I do not want to make this official unless you force me to. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." The curt words stung the air as Ray headed out the door.

"And, Detective, leave your files here. No working until you're cleared."

Ray didn't turn around, but simply jerked his neck sideways, the cracking sounds of his adjusting spine defiant, the Kowalski version of, "Fuck you".

Fraser closed his journal, put down his pen, and sat back. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and then looked over at his sleepy companion. "I know. I'm worried about him as well."

The wolf yipped lightly.

"True, he does look a bit worn. Perhaps he's not sleeping."

Diefenbaker snuffled.

"Oh, be serious. Using a doughnut as an incentive to confidence is not a very useful ploy against a well-trained police officer. Ray would no doubt see through the deception in short order."

A knock at the Consulate door interrupted Dief's disgruntled growl. Fraser stood up and walked to the front of the building to find Lt. Welsh waiting.

"Hope I didn't wake you, Constable."

"Not at all. It's nice to see you. Is something wrong?"

"That's what I need to ask you. May I come in?"

"Certainly."

"Your office?"

"Be my guest."

Welsh shook his head and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets as he walked down the hall to the cubbyhole that Fraser too frequently occupied. Once inside, he stood there until the Mountie joined him. "May I offer you some tea or coffee?"

"No, thanks. I'm here to talk about Kowalski."

Fraser stood very still, his throat suddenly dry. Welsh rarely referred to his partner by his real name. "Has something happened to Ray?"

"You tell me.”

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Did you know he was working double shifts and not taking time off?"

"I was aware he was working more than usual. He assured me that it was common practice. He told me that he was simply doing extra paperwork to free up his day shifts for more active pursuits."

"And you bought that?"

Unsettled, Fraser rubbed his left eyebrow. "Are you saying that he lied to me?"

"That appears to be the case, yes."

"For what reason?"

"That's what I want to know." Welsh paused as he considered his words carefully. "At first I thought it might be connected with the shooting, but now I don't think so. It started two weeks before that. I didn't know about it until personnel sent me a notice. Sly son of a bitch worked around me, went out when I did and then doubled back. I also found out that he's done a lot of other work when he wasn't even signed in."

Fraser crossed his arms, the puzzle even more confusing. "Such deliberate deception seems out of character for Ray. For one thing, he's not a very good liar."

Welsh tilted his head and snorted. "Fraser, he's an undercover cop. He lies for a living. His life depends on fooling people."

The blatant truth of the statement stunned him. "You're quite right, sir. I never thought of it in that context."

"That's because he's good, about the best I've ever seen. You wouldn't know he wasn't Ray Vecchio if you hadn't known Vecchio before." Welsh sat on the edge of the desk, his face somber. "I dug out his file. I read it when he first showed up, but not as closely as I should've. I decided to read it again, this time more carefully and between the lines."

"You think that Ray's aberrant behavior might be linked to a previous assignment?"

"That's what I wanted to find out. Turns out he's been on six undercover assignments in the last eight years, four of those deep cover for extended periods. The last one put him in the hospital for over a week from a serious beating after his cover was blown. I don't know what the guys in charge were thinking. You don't send a man in deep so many times without expecting trouble. Most guys burn out after only a few jobs, especially if they get hurt because of some screw up. They end up with all kinds of problems, drinking, divorce, fighting. Seems to me someone wasn't paying attention when they offered Kowalski this assignment."

Alarmed by the news, Fraser tugged at his ear, not sure what to believe. "You think Ray's in trouble?"

"Don't you?"

"He has been showing signs of stress and fatigue lately, but I assumed that was because of the shooting. Despite my efforts, he refuses to talk about it."

"I was hoping he'd opened up to you."

Fraser closed his eyes briefly, flashes of Ray's troubled face in his mind. "I wish he had."

"Me, too, but since he hasn't, I've got a favor to ask."

"Favor?"

"Kowalski has an appointment with a guy at Human Resources at 9:30 in the morning. I'd like you to make sure that he shows up on time."

"Is this the mandated psychological review?"

"Afraid so."

"Oh, dear. Ray's never been fond of doctors of any persuasion."

"It's standard procedure after a shooting. Fact is, he should've been in the guy's office within 24 hours of the actual event, but it's been two weeks. Dr. Reese is not a happy man. He's threatened to put Kowalski on indefinite leave if he doesn't show up. The only reason he hasn't done it so far is because of the undercover assignment. The higher ups, including the Feds, don't want to blow his cover and put Vecchio at risk."

"Then the authorities have made Dr. Reese fully aware of the situation? He knows that it's Ray Kowalski and not Ray Vecchio who has to be evaluated?"

"Warts and all, yes."

"Excuse me?"

Welsh shook his head, the weariness dragging him down, his voice tight. "I talked to Reese this afternoon. He made it clear that he wasn't happy that Kowalski didn't show up for the sessions, but that he was even more concerned that he was put undercover in the first place. Said he had no business being on this kind of assignment again so soon after the last time. I have to agree that he's got a good point."

Fraser swallowed hard. "Ray never talks about his other assignments."

"Which is why he's supposed to go for periodic evaluations to make sure he's not going off the deep end."

"And you're saying he hasn't been doing that and no one's bothered to follow up on the procedure?"

"That's what I'm saying, yes. Reese is the first guy who's decided to enforce it and that's not sitting too well with your partner."

"I see."

"So, I need you to make sure he gets there and doesn't do anything foolish like pretend he's untouchable and doesn't have to follow the rules. If I read this Reese guy right, he won't let the mission stop him if he decides Kowalski needs intervention."

"Are you saying Dr. Reese would take Ray off the assignment?"

"That's one possibility. Best case, he keeps Kowalski on the job and clears him for duty, no restrictions, but frankly, I don't see that happening. He might let him work and force him to attend sessions. That seems most likely."

"And worst case scenario?"

"Worst case, the doctor pulls him out and puts him on medical leave. We'd need a cover story for his absence, but it's been done before."

Fraser shook his head in disbelief. "I feel quite remiss. That is to say, I had no idea that the situation was that serious. Ray's been volatile and a bit gruff, but that's just Ray. Lately, he's been more withdrawn. I should've been more observant, more alert to the signs of emotional strain. I am his partner."

"And I'm his commanding officer. We both should've been more on top of things. If Kowalski needs help dealing with whatever's hounding him, then we've got to be there. We can't let this Dr. Reese think the answer's blowing his cover. I think we both know that would be a bad move all around. I'm not just saying he should stay under because he's the best cop I've got, or because it would put Vecchio at risk, which it would, but because it's what Kowalski needs. It's in his blood. Take it away from him and he'll fold. I'm not a shrink, but I know enough about cops to know that men like Ray Kowalski live and breathe this job."

"I agree, sir. As much as he complains about it, Ray loves being a police officer."

"I know." Welsh stood up, his face solemn. "It won't be easy. If he even gets a whiff that we're in cahoots to help him out, he'll buck like a wild mustang headed for the open range."

"Understood."

"He's got the next two days off. You think you can keep an eye on him without him getting too suspicious?"

"All Canadian law enforcement officers are trained in standard undercover procedures. Such a covert operation requires some serious consideration and planning, but I'm sure I can manage."

Welsh smiled as he headed out the door. "I'm sure you can, Constable."

Fraser waited until Welsh left and then glanced over at Diefenbaker who sat alert, watching him with an intensity that only a worried wolf could muster. "Yes, I know. We've got quite a challenging job on our hands."

Ray stood by the window looking out, his freshly cleaned weapon strapped under his arm, the smell of the gun oil a small comfort in the dark. Two hours of constant dancing took the edge off, but not enough. He rubbed his face with both hands and looked at his watch, almost 3 o'clock in the morning. His gut tightened at the thought of the impending ring, at what would happen when he picked up and heard that hateful voice at the other end of the line.

Closing his eyes, he blocked out the panic and concentrated on the conversation with Welsh. Maybe the lieutenant was right. Maybe he did need time off to get his act together. Ray shook his head and balked at the notion. No way did he need more time to waste thinking about things he couldn't control. He turned away from the faint light of the street lamps and paced behind the sofa, his arms tightly wrapped around his middle. His belly hurt. Again. Too much coffee, too much junk food, too much hiding from what he didn't want to think about.

In the deep quiet of the night, he still heard the traffic sounds and the faint ticking of the clock. He stopped moving and closed his eyes, waiting, a cold sweat glistening on his skin. Even prepared, he jerked back when the phone actually rang.

Fuck.

Ray let it ring three more times before he finally picked up. "Yeah."

"Bitch."

"You ever get tired of this shit, Clooney?"

"Never get tired of thinking about your sweet ass, bitch. Got off on it just a few minutes ago. You should've been here. My dick's still hard."

Ray considered hanging up, but knew the phone would just ring again. "What do you want from me? I did my job. It's over."

"Over? Fuck over." Rage powered the words. "You lied to me the whole fucking time. Pretended to be my friend. Fucking pretended you were one of us. Fuck you, Kowalski. The Feds own my ass because of you. You owe me."

Ray's throat tightened around the words, his heart racing at the fragments of memory flashing in his head. "You should rot in prison, you son of a bitch. I should kick your fucking teeth in."

His voice husky, Clooney taunted, "But you didn't tell people the whole story, Ray. Why is that? Was it because you liked what I did? Did you like it, Ray? You want me to do it again?"

Ray didn't answer, couldn't form words. Instead, he slammed the phone down, fumbling with the cord as he yanked it from the wall. Suddenly, the air thinned as he dropped to his knees and puked all over the rug.

Tossing and turning before finally falling asleep, Ray lay tangled in the sheets, his legs trapped under the covers. He groaned into the pillow as the unwelcome knock on his door persisted. Lifting his head, he blinked several times and saw the bleary 8:15 on the clock. "Damn."

After several frustrating tries, he finally freed himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Still wearing his jeans and T-shirt from the night before, he reached over and grabbed his gun and holster. He strapped them on as he walked to the door and checked through the peephole. Reluctantly, he opened the door while he spoke. "What are you doing here, Fraser?"

"Good morning, Ray."

Ray rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving Fraser to close the door after Diefenbaker followed him inside. Ray filled a cup with lukewarm water and then poured in some instant coffee. He didn't even bother to stir in the chocolate candy. Lifting the drink to his lips, his stomach rebelled and he put the concoction down on the counter untouched. "Why are you here? Didn't Welsh tell you I had the day off?"

Fraser frowned as he sniffed the air. "Ray, have you been recently ill?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Ray lied. "Bad pizza."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you're feeling better."

"Not much."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance. I have a special Inuit mixture that could settle your stomach quite nicely."

"Thanks, but I swore off moss and lichen cocktails a while back. Don't worry. It's nothing serious."

Holding his hat in his hands, Fraser didn't respond with his usual defense of his native remedies. Instead, he stepped closer, his face almost grim. "But I do worry, Ray."

Ray didn't look up, couldn't meet his friend's eyes. "Look, I appreciate you and the wolf coming over, but I'll be fine, honest." He checked his watch and then wiped his face with both hands. "I'd ask you to stay, but I've got an appointment."

"I'll go with you."

"Thanks, but I'm good on my own here."

"I'd rather go with you, Ray."

The stubborn tone settled it. "Damn it. Welsh told you."

"I am your partner. I should have heard it from you."

"There's nothing to hear. It's one of those stupid rules to make us jump through hoops." Ray turned and dumped the coffee in the sink and then leaned forward, his head down. "I hate this."

"I know you do, Ray. That's why I think it might be easier if you at least had myself and Diefenbaker along for moral support."

"Moral support, huh?"

"Yes. I've found that having a friend around when required to do unpleasant tasks can make the job more bearable."

"I'm seeing a shrink, Fraser, not filling out paperwork." For the first time that morning, Ray smiled. He stood straighter, his body still achy and tired. "Besides, me showing up with a man in a bright red suit and a wolf might make him think I've really gone loony. He might think I've got a Santa complex or something."

"For that frame of reference to work, I'd need to don different apparel, Ray. The red uniform alone simply wouldn't be sufficient for that particular conclusion."

Ray snorted weakly in amusement and then shook his head. "I was kidding."

"I know."

Meeting playful eyes, Ray grinned, relieved that Fraser still cared enough to mess with his head. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For not treating me like I'm a basket case."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what Welsh thinks. That's what this guy Reese is going to think."

Fraser stepped closer, his hand on Ray's shoulder, squeezing gently. "There's no reason to believe that. You've just been under an inordinate amount of stress lately."

Ray pulled away, his friend's touch too much, too close to what he really wanted, but couldn't afford. "I don't want to talk about it."

"May I ask why?"

Walking into the living area, Ray paced in front of the sofa. The words came out too fast and too sharp. "Because it's stupid. Talking doesn't change anything, doesn't turn back the clock so that an awful thing, a really awful thing, didn't really happen. It happened and words won't ever change that, no matter what you say, no matter what anybody else says. It just stays in your head, eating away at your brain. Talking only makes it worse, makes it harder to forget about."

"What awful thing are we not talking about, Ray?"

Ray refused to look up, couldn't meet his partner's troubled expression. "Not one awful thing, Fraser. Lots of awful things. Yakking to some shrink won't bring back Clay Biggs. The kid will still be dead, my finger on the trigger. His mom will still cry and wonder what the hell she did wrong. It won't give Beth Botrelle back the 8 years she wasted in prison because I messed up. Talking won't bring back Stella or make me stop being such a loser. Talking just makes it all worse, all too real. It's just stupid and I don't want to do stupid anymore."

Suddenly, Ray stopped talking. He stared at Fraser for a brief moment, and then turned away, sagging down on the sofa. He dropped his face to his hands and spoke quietly. "I'm just tired of everything, Frase, tired of pretending to be somebody I'm not, living somebody else's life. Thing is, I don't want my old life back, either. Guess, all in all, I'm just fucked up. Talking about it, well, it just hurts too much."

Fraser walked over and sat down beside him, his hand rubbing the back of his shoulders, the steady motion relaxing the bunched muscles just under the thin T-shirt ever so slowly. Ray remained quiet, drinking in the heated touch he craved. After a few moments, Fraser whispered, "I had no idea you felt this way, Ray. Let me help."

"There's nothing you can do."

"There most certainly is."

"What?"

Fraser didn't remove his hand, just kept massaging his shoulder blades gently. "I'm your friend, someone you can trust, Ray. Always. Whatever you say to me stays between us."

Frowning, Ray turned his head and met serious blue eyes. "What are you saying, Fraser? You think I'm keeping secrets?"

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"I just meant that I'll listen to whatever you have to say and try to be objective. I hope that by this point, I've at least earned some measure of your trust."

Ray got up and stood with his back to the counter. He crossed his arms around his chest, his hands tucked under his armpits, his heart beating way too fast. "I do trust you about certain things. It's just that being undercover, you can't always say everything you feel or tell everything you know, even if sometimes you just want to scream it all out. People rely on me to stay quiet, Fraser. Telling some of the things I know could get a person hurt, maybe even dead."

"Then I can certainly see how talking, even to a professional, would feel threatening." Fraser paused and licked his lower lip, measuring his words carefully. "Ray, is there a particular secret that's troubling you?"

Ray tightened his grip around his middle, worked to keep his voice light. "You don't tell secrets, Fraser. That's the whole point. It's the stuff you cover up, the stuff you keep to yourself, all hush-hush like. That's pretty much the standard definition of a secret last I heard."

"Yes, it is, Ray. However, I've sometimes found that there are those occasional secrets that can be quite detrimental to the one who keeps them."

"That ain't the case here."

"It isn't?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"You know you could tell me if you wanted." Dief sat up and woofed in agreement. "And Diefenbaker promises to keep your confidences as well."

"There's nothing to tell, Fraser, nada, zip, zero, zilch. Got it?"

"Got it." Fraser frowned as Diefenbaker yowled softly. "I'm sorry, Ray, but I'm afraid neither of us are convinced."

"Like I care what a wolf thinks."

"Diefenbaker is quite good at recognizing the truth. It has to do with the cadence and tenor of the voice."

"And you? You think I'm a liar, too?"

Fraser's eyes narrowed as he stood and stepped closer to Ray, his voice much softer. He didn't touch him this time, but never looked away. "I think there's something in particular you don't want to talk about, Ray. I don't know what that thing is, but yes, I think you're hiding something."

Ray swallowed hard, unable to maintain eye contact. "You're a pretty good cop, Fraser."

"Thank you kindly. I wish you could trust me enough to let me help you. Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't. It's personal."

"So I surmised. Is this something that happened recently?"

Ray shut his eyes and shook his head. "Please. Don't keep pushing. I can't talk about this, not to you."

"Can you talk to Dr. Reese about it?"

"Not in this lifetime."

"Ray, if you're not honest with your therapist, how can he possibly be very effective in his treatment? It's like a judge and jury deliberating a case without all the pertinent information. Most likely the suspect will escape justice. It's only fair that you give him all the facts so that he can help you through whatever this is."

"I don't need any help. I can deal with this on my own."

"Perhaps."

"You don't believe me?"

"No, Ray, I'm sorry. I don't."

Suddenly very tired, Ray rubbed his eyes. "I need to take a shower. I stink."

"Fine and then we will talk more on the way to see Dr. Reese."

"Oh, joy."

Fraser ignored the sarcasm. "I'll wait here and then go with you to the meeting."

"You never give up."

"Never.

Both comfort and dread swarmed over Ray as he left the room. He tried his best not to think about Reese and the part he needed to play to stay on the job, a job he so desperately needed to keep. No way could he let Clooney spoil all that. He worked too damn hard to find a life that worked. Even if that life wouldn't really belong to him forever, he'd take what he could get for as long as he could keep it. Nothing new there.

"The Yank's in real trouble, son."

"Dad?" Fraser turned and saw his father's ghost sitting at the kitchen table. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to know you've got a serious situation on your hands. He's a good man, but he's not telling you the whole story for a reason."

"What reason is that?"

"You don't want to know, Son."

He paled at his father's serious tone. "It's that bad?"

"Bad enough. Still, you can't change the past, Benton. No use dwelling on it. Just saps the spirit. When a tree falls, you take the timber and use it for good regardless of how it came to be felled. What the lad needs now is justice, knowing that the monster who hurt him won't be allowed to pervert the system like he has so far."

"I don't understand."

"Who are you talking to, Fraser? Dief's in here with me." Ray stood in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, shaving cream on his face. His lips thinned into a small grin. "Maybe you should be the one seeing Reese instead of me."

"Perhaps." Fraser glanced over at the now empty table and then back at his partner. His frown deepened. "You've lost weight."

Ray patted his belly and rubbed his chest with a shrug. "Thanks. A few pounds, maybe."

"You don't need to lose weight, Ray. If anything, you're well below the standard weight requirement for your bone structure and height."

"I'm used to it. I can eat anything and still lose weight. Used to make Stella crazy. Fast metabolism or something like that."

"Let's have an early lunch after your session. I'll buy."

"With Canadian bills? The diner will love that."

"You pick the place, Ray. Your choice."

Ray tilted his head as he met Fraser's concerned gaze, his voice not quite steady. "Something tells me after I see this Reese guy, I might not have much of an appetite."

"You don't know that. There's no reason to believe the worst."

"No reason to believe the best, either."

"Regardless of the outcome, you need to eat."

Ray didn't answer, but turned and walked back into the bedroom, the wolf on his heels to keep a vigilant watch over his pack mate. Fraser rubbed his chin and considered his father's troubling words, wondering how he could best procure those secret undercover files on his partner without breaking any laws in the process.

"Would you consider yourself an obsessive man, Detective?"

After all the introductions and easing into the meeting, it wasn't the first question Ray expected. "You talked to Stella?"

"Your ex-wife?"

"Yeah, she knows I know where the line is. I'm not some kind of twisted fuck who stalks his wife. I was just concerned about who she was dating, that's all. Turned out I had a right. The guy was a crook."

Reese shifted in his seat and frowned as he pushed his glasses a little higher up on his nose. "Actually, I was talking about being obsessive about your work."

"Oh. Sorry. Misunderstood the question."

"No need to be sorry. Perhaps we should talk about your relationship with your ex-wife at some later point."

"I'd rather not."

"Any reason you want to avoid the topic?"

"You got an ex?"

"I've never been married."

"Lucky you. It hurts like hell when it's over."

Reese nodded as he fisted his hands together in front of his face, his brown eyes watching Ray a little too closely for comfort. "Did your divorce have anything to do with your work?"

"Lots of people get divorced."

"I'm not asking about lots of people. I'm asking about you."

Ray shrugged. "We both worked a lot. I thought we were doing okay. She didn't. It happens."

Nodding, Reese made a quick notation on Ray's chart. "You like your job, Detective?"

"Sure. What's not to like?"

"That's a good question."

"It wasn't a question. I was being sarcastic."

"I recognize that, but I'd still like to know what you don't like about your work."

"You mean other than the fact that I work my ass off arresting scumbags and the lawyers make deals to get them off?"

"Do you feel like your efforts are wasted?"

"Sometimes." Ray stood up and paced the small office and then stood by the window. He watched an elderly woman in the parking lot drop her keys, pick them up, and then fumble with the lock. Perfect set up for a thief, maybe even a rapist. The lot needed more security. He should make a call.

"Detective?"

"What?"

"Do you have trouble focusing?"

"Not when I'm working. I didn't want to come here, but that's not a surprise. You probably get that a lot. It's nothing personal."

"Why do you suppose you resisted seeing me for so long?"

"Because you could cost me my job."

"On the contrary, the whole purpose of this meeting is to see what I can do to make your job and your life easier, more manageable."

"I manage fine." Ray stuffed his hands deep into his jeans pockets and leaned back against the wall. "You want to make my life easier, get off my back. Let me get back to work without the song and dance routine. I work undercover. I'm good at it. I don't get lost or forget who I am. I don't hate my parents. Sounds like we're done here."

Reese smiled and shook his head. "Nice try. May I call you Stanley?"

"Only if you want to get popped. I go by Ray."

"As in Ray Vecchio?"

"As in Ray Kowalski. Convenient, huh?"

"Could be. Could also be confusing."

"I told you, Doc. I know who I am. I've been at this game a long time. I know when to switch off and when to switch on. I've had a lot of practice."

Reese motioned at the file on his desk. "I know. I also know that you should never have been offered this assignment, not under the circumstances."

Ray turned back to the windows, his voice controlled, but his chest tight. "Captain Turner disagreed. He told me it was the best way to move on, to ditch the past and start over. You wreck a fast car, you get another one and keep driving. Otherwise you might lose your nerve and never drive again. And I need to drive. It's what I do best."

"But you were out of the hospital only two months before you came on board as Vecchio. You were still recovering from extensive injuries. This job is hard enough under normal circumstances. Undercover work is extra stressful. You should've been given more time. At the very least you should've had more intensive evaluation and debriefing."

"Damn budget cuts hit all the right places."

"That's an interesting perspective."

"Look, I can handle it. It's been almost a year now and I'm doing just fine."

"Really?" Reese flipped a page in the file. "According to this, during just the last month you seem to be working nonstop, spending all your time on the job. Despite the support services in place to deal with post-traumatic situations, you kept right on working after the shooting of a 14-year-old boy. The fact is, you refused to come in at all until I called your commanding officer and forced the issue." Reese took a deep breath and closed the file. "This brings me back to my original question, do you consider yourself an obsessive man?"

"I'm a good cop."

"You're more than a cop, Ray. What about your personal life? Now that you're divorced, have you developed any other relationships?"

"Relationships? You mean like relationships with women?"

"Or men."

Ray straightened and stared at the doctor, his face flushed. "What are you asking, exactly?"

"Sex is a natural thing, Ray. I'm not here to be judgmental."

"And I'm not here to talk about something that's none of your damn business."

"No need to get defensive."

"I think there is. I don't sleep around. It's just not what I'm about."

Reese's voice stayed steady and his eyes never left their focus on Ray. "Tell me about your relationship with your ex-wife then."

Ray closed his eyes, the words hard to say. "I met Stella when I was a kid. I never went with anyone else, not really, and then we got married. After the divorce, well, I just haven't been able to get with anyone else."

"You're saying your entire sexual history is with one woman?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"When you say pretty much, what does that mean?"

"It means what it means. A few kisses, a few dates, no sleeping around."

"I see." Reese cleared his throat. "Hasn't there been anyone you've shown interest in at all?"

"I didn't say that. I just haven't been able to act on it. It wouldn't be fair to get involved with somebody when I'm not who I really am."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm undercover, Doc. I'm pretending to be someone I'm not. When Vecchio gets back, I'll be Kowalski again until the next assignment comes along. Then I'm someone else for a while, good guy, bad guy, it doesn't matter. How can I ask someone else to deal with that? So I don't."

"Sounds lonely."

"It's okay. It's the job. It's what I know."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"If it did, I'd quit. As it is, I'm here for the duration."

"What about friends?"

Ray stood suddenly straighter. "What about 'em?"

"Do you have any?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course, I have friends."

"Who are they? The people you work with?"

"Well, yeah. There's my partner and the guys at the station."

"No one outside of work then?"

"The pizza delivery guy and my snitches."

"You consider them your friends?"

Ray shrugged and sat down in the chair across from Reese. Fatigue weighed down his arms and legs all of a sudden. "Guess not."

"Who's your best friend?"

"Fraser."

"Fraser?"

"Yeah, my partner, or at least he's Vecchio's partner, but he's mine for now. He's Canadian."

"Canadian? How can he be your partner?"

"It's a long story."

"I'd like to hear it."

Ray sat back and sighed in resignation. "He first came to Chicago on the trail of his father's killer. He's stayed for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture and he's now the liaison officer at the Canadian Consulate and therefore my partner."

"That sounds rehearsed."

"This isn't the first time I've been asked the question."

"And you consider Fraser to be your best friend?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about him."

"Why?" Ray stood up and paced again, agitated. He didn't want to talk about Fraser or his life or their life together.

Reese studied him for several moments before he explained. "Getting to know a man's best friend often reveals a lot about that person. Do you trust your partner?"

"Of course. He's the most honest man I've ever met."

"Is that difficult?"

"Why should it be?"

"Well, you said yourself you're living a lie, pretending to be someone you're not. Does that make you uncomfortable being around someone you think is so honest?"

"No. I respect him for it."

"You say he's the most honest man you've ever met. I take it he knows that you're not really Ray Vecchio. So, if that's the case, and he's keeping your secret in order to maintain your cover, is he as honest as you think he is?"

Ray swallowed hard and looked out the window, but closed his eyes. "He lies to protect me, and I know that's not easy for him. It's not his nature to be dishonest.”

"How does that make you feel?"

"I feel bad about that sometimes, about making him lie like that."

"And how do you feel about your life as it is now, being Ray Vecchio, taking his cases, his friends, his partner, giving him credit for your arrests and all the work that you do while using his identity?”

"Fine. I feel fine." Suddenly angry, Ray turned towards Reese. "What's the point of this conversation? What are you trying to get me to say here?"

"Will you be able to give up this life when Vecchio comes back?"

"Sure. No problem."

"You'd walk away from your best friend without any hesitation?"

"It wouldn't be the first time." He bit back the words about love and desire, about wanting to be with Fraser forever. Instead, he crossed his arms and stayed quiet until Reese asked him another question.

Instead of hammering on about Fraser, Reese sat back and switched gears. "I think we need to talk about your last assignment, Ray."

"I don't want to do that."

"I need to know that you're okay with the fact that Michael Clooney won't be serving time for murder and all the other charges even though you nearly died trying to bring him to trial."

Throat dry, Ray swallowed several times. "It wasn't my call. The Feds thought they could get more by going after a bigger fish."

"Then you're saying, as far as you're concerned, everything's fine. You've got no problem knowing a killer who nearly beat you to death is now being protected by the government so he can testify against someone else?"

"That's what I'm saying, yeah."

Reese sighed and tilted his head slightly, his face solemn as he played with the edge of the file. "Let me ask you a question, Ray. As a cop, do you ever know when a suspect's telling you the truth or when he's lying?"

Ray hesitated. "Sure."

"Did I mention that I used to be a cop?"

Fuck.

"No, you didn't mention that."

"Well, I was and you know what I'm feeling right now?"

"I'm not a psychic."

"No, and you're not telling the truth, either."

"I didn't think shrinks were supposed to call their patients liars. Isn't that against the shrink rule book or something?"

"It might be, but I've found that honesty works better. I need you to tell me the truth, Ray. How do you feel about Mike Clooney?"

"I hate his fucking guts."

"Well, that's honest."

"Son of a bitch should be in prison, not walking around free. But apparently it doesn't really matter what the fuck I think. The Feds want a bigger fish, so the scumbags like Clooney get thrown back into the pond with the rest of the garbage floating around. That's just the way it is. End of story."

Reese nodded and closed the file. "I think we need to talk about that tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"I'd like to have daily sessions for the next week until I'm sure you're fit for active duty."

Double fuck.

"Son of a bitch benched me."

"Language, Ray."

"A son of a bitch is a son of a bitch, Fraser." Ray stormed down the sidewalk, his face flushed, his words all in a rush. "There's no other way to say it. He won't let me off a desk for at least a week and he gave me fucking homework. Homework, Fraser, like I'm a kid or something. Can you fucking believe this shit?"

Fraser took an extra beat to answer, his eyes never leaving the frantic figure of his partner. When he did speak, the words came out soft and calming as he matched his stride to the fast pace. "Ray, it's not totally unexpected."

"But I'm fine."

"I don't mean this as a criticism, but that's not entirely true."

Ray stopped suddenly and stared. "What are you saying here? You agree with Reese? You think I'm nuts, too?"

"I seriously doubt Dr. Reese feels you're unbalanced, Ray, or he would have taken your gun and relieved you of duty."

"You didn't answer me, Fraser. Do you think I'm nuts?"

"Of course not." Fraser stepped just a bit closer, his voice lower. "I do, however, think that the intensity of emotions you've displayed recently could be alleviated somewhat with a reliable plan for stress management."

"I'm intense?"

"More so than usual, yes, which would indicate some unresolved issues."

"Issues? We've all got issues, Fraser. I won't even mention talking to the wolf in public, okay? Issues ain't the problem. My life was just fine until this Reese guy stuck his nose in. And why are you taking his side, anyway?"

"I wasn't aware there were sides."

"There are always sides, Fraser. My side, his side. You're my partner. You're supposed to be on my side, not his."

"Well, I am on your side, Ray."

"Doesn't sound like it."

"I didn't mean to make you think I was unsupportive of your position. I know you're upset."

"I can't believe you'd take his side."

"I did not take his side."

"Did, too."

"Ray."

"After all we've been though."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"I am."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"I guess it's okay then."

"Perhaps we should go eat now."

Ray shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. "Not hungry. I've got to go." He headed toward his car with Fraser right behind him.

"Go where?"

"Can't say. You and Dief go grab a bite. I'll catch you later."

"I'd really feel more comfortable if you'd let me accompany you. I am your partner."

Turning, Ray lifted his hand in a stop motion. "Look, I need to be alone."

"Diefenbaker and I will be very quiet."

"Alone, Fraser, as in nobody with me, not you, not the wolf, nobody. I can't think with you two around." Ray crossed his arms and leaned back against the front of his car. "I'm all turned around here. I need to figure out what to do."

"I really want to help, Ray."

Ray swallowed hard at the complete truth of the words, the deep sincerity in the blue eyes. "You can't, Fraser, not with this." He paused and licked his lower lip, looking away from the intense stare. "There are things about me you don't know, things I can't talk about. I need some space, some distance to get my head straight. I can't do that with you around, because you won't always be there, not when Vecchio comes back. I need to do this on my own or I'll lose it. I don't want to do that. I don't want to end up losing it, Fraser. I don't want to be some burned out cop who couldn't handle it when things got tough. I just have to sort things out on my own, that's all."

Fraser's hand took his arm as he stepped closer, his body almost touching his, but not quite. "Do you really believe that when Ray comes back, you'll stop being my friend?"

Ray pushed Fraser away and walked to the driver's side of the car, his partner following right behind him. "That's just the way it is. I do the job and move on."

"And our friendship is just part of the job? You can't seriously believe that."

"You'll have Vecchio. You won't need me."

Ray unlocked the door and slammed it shut before Fraser could answer. He put the key in the ignition, wanting to ignore the knocking on his window. "I've got to go, Fraser."

"We've got to talk, Ray." The glass muffled the words, but the strained voice touched him.

"I'll call later." Ray started the engine as Fraser stepped away, the hurt expression counterpoint to the terrible ache in his own heart.

"Thanks for seeing me, Captain."

Captain Robert Turner motioned to a chair across from his desk. His dark brown eyes watched Ray carefully, taking in his appearance with a frown. "Ray, sit down. You look tired. Your message sounded urgent. What's going on?"

Ray took the seat, but nervous energy kept his left leg bouncy. "It's about this Reese guy. I need you to get him off my back."

"Ah, Dr. Reese. A very persistent man."

"If he's not careful, he's going to blow the whole Vecchio thing."

Turner stood and walked to the coffee machine and filled a cup as he spoke. "Want some?"

"No, thanks, sir."

"You know, I understand your concerns, Ray, I do." Turner took several sips of his coffee before he continued, his words careful. "However, I've already done pretty much all that I can do. He's damn insistent that we follow the psych review protocols for undercover officers."

"But why me and why now? It's been almost a year and I'm doing fine."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem. You do the sessions and get cleared."

"It's not that easy."

"Why not? Is there a problem that you haven't mentioned in your reports?"

"No, sir. It's just you know how these head guys are. They try to trip you up and make you say stuff, stuff that taken out of context just doesn't sound right."

"I hate my psych reviews, too, Kowalski, but it's procedure. Besides, like you said, you've been doing fine, better than we hoped for."

"Yeah?"

"Certainly. I was just talking to your Lieutenant. He seems quite pleased with your overall performance. He did show some concerns about you being maybe a little bit too dedicated, though."

"Too dedicated?"

"Working too much, being a little too focused on playing the part of the tough cop, pissing people off. Seems Vecchio's going to have to work a hell of a lot harder when he comes back to keep up."

"Any indicators on when that might be, sir?"

"None." Turner put his mug down and snorted. "Damn Feds. You know how they are. They keep us more in the dark than a citywide black out. Don't get me started on those assholes. I mean, just look at that whole Clooney mess."

Ray's breath hitched as Turner stalled. "Oh, shit, Ray. I'm sorry. You probably don't want to talk about that."

"No, sir, not really." Ray leaned forward, his elbows on the arms of the chair, his hands together. His head pounded at his temples, the air thin in his chest. "Which is why you need to get Reese off my ass. He's bound and determined that I've got to deal with it, like talking about all that shit will help."

"Well, he might have a point. If I were in your shoes, I'd be more than a little pissed. Talking to someone might make it easier."

"I am pissed, but that's not the point. It's over. The Feds want him to testify, so they let his ass off. Not much I can do about that. Talking about it is a waste of time, time I could be using doing my fucking job instead of crying on some asshole's shoulder."

Nodding, Turner's voice softened. "Look, Ray, I totally hear what you're saying. You're angry, but you're a good cop. You don't buy into all this psychobabble bullshit that says you have to talk every damn thing to death. Hell, that's why I put you on the Vecchio job in the first place. I figured it was the best place to prove you could still do what it takes to get the shit off the streets."

"So you'll call this guy off?"

"Afraid I can't do that. My hands are tied."

"Fuck."

"Well, there is one consolation."

"What's that?"

"From everything I've heard, Reese is one of the best at what he does, that is, if you believe any of those guys know what the hell they're doing."

Ray sat back, disgusted. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Sorry, but that's how it is. Seems to me you've got two choices."

"Which are?"

"You can play along with his whole talk about it and feel better bullshit, or you can do what you do best."

"Which is?"

"Lie."

Ray took several deep breaths and then walked into the bar, a place from his past, a place packed full of loaded memories. The whiff of peanuts and booze made his head swim. As he sat down on the stool, the bartender walked up. "Hey, Ray. Long time, no see. You and the old lady ever patch things up?"

"We're divorced."

"Oh, jeez, Ray, I'm sorry, man. I didn't know. It's been a while."

"It's okay. Give me a scotch, straight up."

Eddie frowned and leaned in. "It's not even noon, Ray. You sure?"

"Did I ask for the time, Eddie?"

Standing back, both hands up in surrender, Eddie shrugged. "No problem. Scotch it is."

"Make it a double."

"Sure thing. Coming right up." Eddie poured the drink and then moved down the bar to another customer, leaving Ray alone with his own troubles.

Lifting the glass, Ray sniffed the booze and shuddered, his body remembering the promise of oblivion. He sipped the liquid heat slowly at first, but then gulped and finished it quickly. Closing his eyes, he relished the slow fire that warmed his belly. It'd been ages since his last good drunk.

Now that he had days off it didn't matter if he got wasted, got stoned out of his gourd. He wasn't even on call. So he didn't care. Nobody else cared. Why the fuck should he?

Ray banged the glass on the bar and reluctantly Eddie refilled it. After the fifth drink in too short a time, Eddie shook his head and put the bottle just out of reach. "Ray, you okay, man?"

"Leave the bottle and go away."

"Afraid I can't do that, my friend."

"I've got money."

"At least tell me you're not on duty."

"If they'd let me work, I wouldn't be drinking."

"They won't let you work?"

"I just want to do my job. What's the hell's wrong with that? Maybe wanting to get the scumbags off the street is a crazy idea. Wanting to kick their fucking teeth in makes me nuts. Stupid rules, stupid people. I hate this job. I should quit."

"Ray, why don't I call somebody and get you a ride home?"

Ray lifted his head and blinked several times. "I didn't mean that."

"Didn't mean what?"

"I love being a cop."

"Yeah, I figured. Look, you're a little fucked up right now, that's all. It happens. I read about that kid with the gun. Maybe you should just go home and sleep it off."

"You read about that?"

"Sure. It's a tough thing to kill a kid even when he's a stone cold thug. You did what you had to do. Stupid paper got your name wrong, too. Still, nobody blames you."

"You think I'm upset about the kid?"

"You're not?"

"Sure, but that's not the only thing."

"Yeah? What else is there?"

Ray shook his head and reached for the bottle unsuccessfully. "It's a secret."

"A secret, huh? Cop secret or personal secret?"

Using his index finger, he shushed. "Can't tell." Ray rested his head on his folded arms, the world spinning just too damn fast all of a sudden. "I'm just going to rest for a minute."

"You sure there's not someone to call?"

"Canada."

"Canada?"

Ray closed his eyes and pictured Fraser in his head, the man he wanted to want him more than anyone else. The words slurred. "I'm so fucked."

"Yeah, Ray, I can see that."

"You okay there, Constable? You look like someone just kicked your wolf back to Canada."

Fraser glanced up at Lt. Welsh, blinking several times to clear the mist from his eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I've committed a rather rash act."

"Rash act? Would that include breaking into my office and reading your partner's confidential files?"

"I'm afraid it would, sir. I'm terribly sorry, but I had to know."

Welsh nodded, but he didn't appear too upset. "Obviously, you can read between the lines as well as I can."

Fraser hesitated and stood up, his body still shaky. He stood by the window looking out at the bullpen, not seeing his colleagues, but instead wondering about evil. Swallowing several times, Fraser finally spoke, his voice choked. "I find that I'm rather conflicted."

"About?"

"About the fact that I agree with Dr. Reese. Ray should never have been assigned this case. However, had he not taken Ray Vecchio's place, I'd have missed having him for a partner."

"So you feel conflicted because you like having Kowalski as a partner even though he probably shouldn't ever have been here in the first place, right?"

"Yes, sir." Fraser paused and then turned around, disturbing memories falling into place. "The first day we worked together, he stepped in front of a bullet to protect me."

"He was wearing a vest."

"He had no way of knowing the suspect would aim for his chest rather than his head. He could just as easily have been killed."

"Are you saying you think he had a death wish?"

"No, the vest would indicate otherwise, but I do think he wasn't thinking as clearly about his own safety as he should have been. Still, that was over a year ago and he has shown remarkable flexibility and ingenuity since then."

Welsh cleared his throat and sat on the edge of his desk. "So the question is, why is this whole manic cop thing kicking in now? It usually happens right before a guy burns out. Something must have triggered it. You read the file. What do you think?"

"Quite often there's a delayed response to severe trauma. The victim will deny the psychological effects for months or even years. Then, as you say, something often triggers it. Obviously, Ray's kept that event to himself. Or, he might not even realize that's what's happening."

"Regardless, we need to keep Kowalski on the job and to do that, we need to make sure he gets the treatment he needs whether he wants it or not. That's not going to be easy. He's already gone screaming to Turner."

"Turner?"

"Captain Robert Turner. He runs all the undercover cases. He called to let me know that your partner's not happy with this whole Reese thing, like I'm blind and deaf and didn't already know that." Welsh stood up and moved to sit back behind his desk. "However, he did clue me in on something I didn't know, something significant to what we were saying about trigger events."

"What's that?"

"Mike Clooney's been put in the witness protection program by the Feds. Seems he's going to testify against Sean O'Malley."

Fraser shook his head in disbelief. "Are you saying the man who killed an undercover police officer and who beat and tortured Ray isn't going to prison?"

"That's what I'm saying, yeah."

"Good God. That's immoral."

"That's putting it mildly."

"Ray must have found out."

"That would be my guess."

Fraser stepped closer to the desk, his brow furrowed. "Isn't the O'Malley trial scheduled to begin next week?"

"I think it is, yes."

"Then this Michael Clooney is going to be in town to testify. My Lord, no wonder Ray's been so frantic."

"It would explain his need to stay busy."

Before Fraser could respond, the phone rang. Welsh picked up. "Lt. Welsh." He frowned. "Yes, he's here." Handing the phone to Fraser, he shook his head. "It’s Constable Turnbull. Says it's important."

Fraser listened briefly, paled, and hung up with a quick thank you. "I need to go, sir."

"What's wrong?"

"Ray." Fraser kept the rest to himself.

Welsh held up a hand for permission. "Go."

Fraser didn't need to be told twice.

When he was a kid, only three or four, Ray used to hide under his father's workbench. He'd close his eyes and pretend no one could see him, and his dad, being his dad, played along. "Stanley? Stanley? Has anyone seen Stanley? Where the heck could that boy be?"

Ray remembered laughing to himself, wanting to call out, but covering his mouth with both hands to hold back the giggles, wanting to keep the game alive between him and his dad for as long as he could. He loved the quick thrill he got every time his father's voice got closer, but then drifted away again as his dad continued working on the engines. God, how he loved spending time with his dad, just the two of them, nobody to spoil it.

And, besides, no one could find him when he kept his eyes closed, no one, not bad men, not monsters. Yep, keeping his eyes shut kept him safe when he was a kid.

No such luck now that he'd grown up, though. Now closing his eyes only made it worse, made it play over in his head, made him feel the fists, forced him to remember the blows and the hate, and the awful thing he couldn't even think about remembering without gagging.

Ray jerked awake suddenly when the hand touched him. "Ray, Ray, Ray. It's okay. You're safe."

"Where the hell am I?"

Fraser kneeled beside the sofa and studied him with concern. "You're in the back of a place called Sal's. Eddie Braggs called the Consulate and Constable Turnbull called me. Seems Mr. Braggs was concerned about a customer named Ray Kowalski. He said you wanted information about immigrating to Canada."

"Shit."

"Can you sit up?"

Ray squeezed his eyes shut and wished Fraser wouldn't have to see him all fucked up. Unfortunately, that closing his eyes thing and being invisible didn't work anymore. Damn.

He rolled on his back and put his arm over his face. "Give me a minute. Let the room settle."

Fraser sighed and stood up. "You'd feel better if you would eat something, Ray."

"Don't even start with me, Fraser."

"I'm just concerned."

"I'm okay. I'm just having a bad day. Everybody has bad days. Bet even the Queen has a bad day sometimes."

"The Queen doesn't get inebriated in the middle of the day, Ray."

"How do you know? She might have a nip now and then. You don't know for a fact that she doesn't get soused. Besides, that's not the point anyway."

"What is the point?"

Ray took a deep breath. "The point is, I'm sorry."

"You've got no reason to apologize."

Opening only one eye, Ray stared at his partner in disbelief. "So you think it's perfectly okay to get plastered in the middle of the day and have to have your tee-totaling partner come pick your ass up? Sounds like sorry material in my book."

"I didn't say it was acceptable behavior, Ray. I must confess I don't like seeing you in this condition."

"I know. Stella didn't like it, either." Ray hated thinking of those drunken times when Stella found him heaving into the toilet or waking up after a really bad night. Nobody could make him feel quite as bad as Stella unless, of course, it was the pensive stare of his partner the Mountie. Fuck. Still, he deserved it, so he couldn't complain too much.

Ray reached out his arm. "Help me up." Fraser took his hand and tugged with a steady strength that got Ray to a sitting position in no time. He groaned and held his head. "God, I'm out of practice." Glancing around, he frowned. "Where's Dief?"

"He's at the Consulate. I wasn't sure about your condition."

"Impressionable wolf, huh?"

Instead of smiling, Fraser shook his head. "Actually, I feared his reaction. He has great affection for you, Ray. He might have found it too unsettling to see you unconscious."

"I wasn't unconscious. I was just sleeping it off."

"Unconscious."

"Okay, passed out."

"Unconscious."

"Down for the count."

"Ray."

"Okay, okay, you win, but I'm fine now."

"Hardly. I'll drive you home. You need to eat, drink plenty of liquids, and get some sleep. You'll feel better after you've rested. Then perhaps we need to talk."

Words of protest died on his lips. He didn't want to fight, not with Fraser. "Okay. Do me a favor, though."

"What's that?"

"If I throw up in my car, just shoot me."

"You know I'm not licensed to carry firearms, Ray."

Fraser helped him to his feet and Ray surrendered with a groan, letting himself be guided to the car and then bossed around about using his seatbelt. "I'm not familiar with this part of town, Ray. You might have to give me directions on how to return to your apartment."

"No problem. Just take a right two streets down and keep going for a while."

"I take it you know this area well then?"

"I used to live around here. I know it looks run down now, but it used to be a pretty good place."

"Ah, thus the use of your real name when you went to the bar."

"Yeah, I know. I was stupid. I'm not supposed to have my own life while I'm undercover. I should've known better."

"I imagine you get homesick, too, Ray."

"Yeah, sometimes. Still, it doesn't excuse pulling a stunt like this." Ray leaned his head back. "Keep going for sixteen blocks. Then take a right."

"Are you feeling sick?"

"I'm tired, Fraser, but I'll be okay. I used to do this all the time. Been a while though."

"I knew a man once who had a problem with drinking. He lost himself."

"Lost himself?"

"Yes. He said the alcohol made it easier to accept that he didn't know who he was anymore. I didn't know what to say to make it better."

"This guy a friend of yours?"

"Yes. I didn't understand why he'd feel lost. He always seemed so solid, so aware of what was important in life."

"He put up a good front."

Fraser glanced over, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"A front, a good show. He lied, Fraser. He made people think he had it all together, but inside he felt empty."

"But why would he do that?"

"He didn't want pity."

They drove quietly for a few more moments before Fraser spoke quietly. "Is that how you feel, Ray, lost and empty?"

"Sometimes."

"Why?"

"I don't know why. I just do. I have to admit the drinking doesn't help like it used to. I guess being sober for so long does that." Ray sighed and then frowned as he took in the buildings going by so slowly. "Are we even moving?"

"We're going the posted limit."

"We might as well be walking."

"Now you're exaggerating."

"And you're a lousy driver. Take another right at the next corner."

Fraser followed directions and then picked up speed, but only a few more miles an hour. "I recognize the streets now, Ray. We should be home in a few more minutes."

"Not at this rate."

"Perhaps we should stop at the diner and get something to eat first. The last time I checked, your food supplies were relatively meager."

"I told you before, I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Who knows? Who cares? It doesn't matter. If I ate now, I'd puke. Just take me home and then you and Dief can eat whatever you like."

Fraser's lips thinned, the way they did when he bit back what he really wanted to say. Ray ran his hand over his hair and kept his eyes trained to his side of the car. After a few minutes, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Fraser. I'm a little on edge."

"You've got good reason."

"I do?"

"Being forced to undergo a medical review can't be easy for you, not with your history."

"My history? What history?"

Fraser tightened his hands on the wheel and didn't meet Ray's suspicious gaze. "Being a specialist in undercover work carries certain psychological hazards, Ray. You've been wounded in the line of duty several times. Those instances occurred because a colleague blew your cover or betrayed your confidence. That always compounds and complicates the impact of the trauma."

Ray rubbed his mouth and then kept it covered for a few moments, turning his face back toward the window. "You read my file."

"I told you that before."

"I mean my confidential file. Otherwise, you wouldn't know about the betrayal of trust thing."

"Or the Michael Clooney case."

"Fuck."

"Ray, it wasn't your fault."

"Pull over."

"We're almost to your apartment."

"I said pull the fuck over."

Fraser found the nearest space and stopped the car at the curb. "Ray, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You had no right."

"I'm your partner."

"Not then, you weren't. If you had been, you'd be dead now."

"You're in no way responsible for your partner's death."

Ray didn't answer, his throat closed over the flood of curses, his mind dizzy with the rush of haunting images. As he got out of the car, Fraser moved to follow. "Don't. Leave me alone, Fraser. I can't deal with this right now."

Fraser stopped, but didn't get back in the car. "Where are you going?"

Ray studied the serious face, the grim lines he put there. "You think you know, but you don't."

"I don't understand."

"That's the point, Fraser. That's the fucking point. You don't understand and never will. Go away. I'm going to walk for a while."

As he turned away, Fraser called to his back. "I'll wait at your place."

"No. Go home."

"Ray."

"I mean it. I want to be alone."

But he didn't mean it, not really, and he knew it wouldn't last long enough to save either of them, not if Clooney had his way.

Ray slumped forward on the shredded couch cushion surveying the mess, his apartment ransacked, furniture overturned and ruined, cabinets emptied, glass everywhere. They'd even destroyed the tank for his pet turtle who now occupied the tub temporarily. Poor little guy was probably wondering what the hell happened. He knew the feeling.

He shook his head once again in disbelief and ran his fingers along the jagged edge of the shattered frame, the picture of him and Stella dancing, holding one another, happy before all the bitterness seeped in.

Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath, his hands shaky, his whole body tense as he remembered the word BITCH spray-painted in bright red on his bedroom wall.

Message received.

Fucking Clooney. Son of a bitch couldn't leave him the fuck alone, just couldn't let go, couldn't just stay the fuck out of his life.

A sound at the door interrupted his anger. Alert, he reached for his gun, holding it up with both hands, ready. He stood to the side of the door and snapped, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Ray."

Relieved, Ray holstered his gun and opened the door slightly, blocking the view. Fraser studied him with concern. He held a pizza box while Dief waited impatiently to get inside. "Ray, did you know your lock is broken?"

"I've got eyes, Fraser. What are you doing here? I told you I wanted to be alone for a while."

"I was worried. Besides, I needed to return your car. On the way over, I decided to pick up a peace offering."

"A peace offering?"

"It's a Canadian custom. We didn't really part on the best of terms earlier. I feel the need to apologize for overstepping certain boundaries."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. I should've told you before."

"Perhaps. Even so, I understand why you didn't." Fraser lifted the pizza box. "It's pineapple, your favorite. May I come in?"

Ray leaned his head against the doorjamb. He so didn't want to do this, not now, not with Fraser, but he couldn't see a way around it, not without more lies. Sighing, he reluctantly stepped aside. As soon as Fraser walked in, he stalled. "Oh, dear."

"I'd offer you a chair, but, as you can see, I'm in the middle of redecorating."

Worried, Fraser met his gaze, his blue eyes even more dark. "What happened here, Ray?"

"Some punks broke in and tore up the place. Didn't steal anything. Nothing to take. Hell, they probably did me a favor. I needed to clear out some of this shit a long time ago."

"You're saying vandals did all this?"

Moving across the room, Ray quickly pulled his bedroom door shut. No way did he want Fraser to see that mess. He crossed his arms and then leaned against the wall. "Yeah. It was like this when I got home. My landlady called the cops while I was out. It's no big deal. I've got somebody coming over to fix the lock."

"And you say nothing was stolen?"

"Nope, just trashed."

Fraser put the pizza on the table and took off his hat. He scanned the room, his eyes narrowed with keen observation. "I don't believe this was a random case of vandalism, Ray. This looks very personal. Did your landlady happen to see the perpetrators before she called the police?"

"She saw two thugs, one black, one white. No make and model on the car and no license plate. I wish she'd just left it alone."

"She did her civic duty by calling. Why should she leave it alone?"

Ray moved to the kitchen and got the broom. He began sweeping, keeping his head down. "Waste of time. The guys just broke in, got pissed there was nothing to steal, and took it out on my shit. There's nothing to do about it, Fraser. It happens all the time."

"You're a police officer, Ray. The level of destruction makes the likelihood that this is just a random break in very small. Have you called Lt. Welsh about this?"

"He doesn't need to know."

"What if the break in were aimed at Ray Vecchio and not you?"

Ray continued sweeping and shook his head. "See, that's why I didn't want to say anything, Fraser. You always do this, come up with all kinds of crazy ideas, ideas that don't have anything to do with what's real. You don't have to worry about your old pal Vecchio. This isn't about Vecchio. His cover's safe."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do."

Fraser paused, his voice softer. "What is it you're not telling me, Ray?"

"Nothing."

"Ray, the only way you could know for sure that this isn't about Ray Vecchio is to know what it's really about, because you and I both know that this is not just a random break in."

Ray stopped sweeping, but didn't put down the broom. He stood stock still before he found the words. "I can't talk about it."

"Why not?"

"It's personal."

Fraser frowned and leaned down to pick up the bent wheel of Ray's broken bike. He put it on the table and stepped closer. "This is someone who knows where you live, Ray. This is someone who obviously means you great harm. As a police officer, you know you cannot let this go. Destruction of personal property is a crime, but had you been present, this might have very well escalated into an assault or possibly worse."

"I can take care of myself."

"Under normal circumstances I would agree. However, it's been my experience that when a situation is charged with extremely personal matters, one's judgment often becomes impaired."

"You calling me impaired?"

"If you think you can handle this situation alone, yes."

"You're wrong."

"I don't think so."

"Well, you wouldn't." Ray propped the broom in the corner and then motioned to a restless Dief to stay put. "There's glass all over, buddy. Don't move any closer."

Fraser shook his head as he talked to the wolf. "Yes, I know. I agree, but you know how stubborn he can be."

Dief woofed in protest. "Yes, I know. I'm doing my best." Fraser turned his attention back to his partner. "Ray, you really need to see reason here. We both feel that you need to tell us what's really going on."

Ray wiped his face in frustration and then sagged down on the damaged sofa, the stuffing sticking out in all directions. His head fell back, his eyes closed. "It's Clooney."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, but I can't prove it."

"What makes you so sure?"

Ray hesitated, the words stuck in his throat. He sat up and then leaned forward, his head down, his voice unsteady. "The whole time I was under, I hated that prick. You ever know someone who just made your skin crawl from the get go?"

"On occasion, yes."

"Well, Clooney was like that. He took to calling me bitch. I hated it, but I was supposed to play the part, so I went along with it."

Fraser's hand touched his shoulder, his fingers squeezing gently. "Went along with what, Ray?"

"You don't want to know, Fraser." Ray pulled away from the touch and stood up, pacing, the rage straining every muscle. "If you read the files, you know what he did. When he found out we were cops, he killed my partner and he nearly killed me. I figured he'd be in prison for life, but it just so happens he's got info the Feds want, so he cut a deal. He's in town to testify next week against his old partner O'Malley, but he's been calling here for the last month."

"Calling? You mean he's been harassing you?"

"Every night at the same time, three A.M."

"Ah. That would explain the phone being out of service."

"I'd had enough."

"Understood. And you think the break in is connected to the harassment?"

"Not much doubt, not when you see this." Ray opened the bedroom door as Fraser got up to look in. Fraser cleared his throat, his face flushed. "Clooney wrote this?"

"He sent his pet thugs to do it, but, yeah, that's Clooney. Typical head games stuff."

"Disturbingly obsessive." Fraser shook his head and then met Ray's reluctant gaze. "You have to report this to Lt. Welsh. This is serious, Ray. It's not something you should try to deal with on your own."

"But I can't prove it. Besides, he's in hiding with the Feds."

Fraser smiled, his confidence filling the room. "You're a detective, Ray, surrounded by other very competent detectives. We'll get the proof. He won't get away with this."

Ray knew he should say no, to tell his friend to forget it, to stay out of it and stay safe, but he couldn't. He swallowed his pride and nodded. "Okay, but you have to be careful. Clooney's crazy. It won't be easy to catch the son of a bitch. The Feds have him protected. I've tried everything I know and it's a no go."

Fraser slapped him on the shoulder, his eyes sparkling. "But you've been trying alone and now you have us."

The wolf barked and Ray could've sworn the damn animal smiled in agreement as he tried to nuzzle his crotch.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I think the jury's still out on that, Lieutenant."

"Don't get smart with me, Kowalski, or I'll put your ass in a holding cell until you're too old to joke."

Ray crossed his arms and avoided Welsh's glare. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Lieutenant, faulty as his reasoning was, Ray explained his motives quite clearly. The potential for danger being what it is, I can understand his desire to handle this situation without involving others who might be harmed by this despicable criminal."

"Don't take up for him, Constable. He should know better. Clooney's already killed one cop and pretty much got a pass for it, thanks to the Federal dimwits in charge of the investigation. It's not a big step for him to go after Kowalski here. The guy thinks he's untouchable. That's a dangerous mindset for a thug like Clooney."

"I agree. We should contact the Federal officers in charge of Mr. Clooney's case and have them investigate his actions. We should also insist that they monitor him more closely so that the harassment and threats don't continue."

"I plan to do that, Constable, but first I'd like a word with my detective. Alone."

Uneasy, Ray shrugged and smiled weakly while Fraser reluctantly left Welsh's office. As soon as the door closed, he apologized again. "I said I was sorry, sir. You want to kick me in the head, I won't stop ya."

"Have you been drinking?"

Ray kept his head down, not looking up, not wanting to explain. "I'm off duty."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I know, sir. Respectfully, what I do on my own time is none of your business."

"It is when it affects your judgment and, in this case, your safety." Welsh shook his head, moving behind the desk to sit down. "My old man drank, still does."

"Sorry to hear that."

"I'm not telling you to gain sympathy. I'm telling you to warn you. I won't tolerate a drunk in my department. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No, sir."

"Good. So is it out of your system?"

"What?"

"The booze."

"Should be. It'd be a damn shame to feel this bad and not be sober."

"Good. Now, here's what I plan to do. I'm going to call Bob Turner and we're going to get the Feds in here. We'll figure this whole thing out. Meanwhile, I want you to bunk in with Fraser."

"Sir?"

"Your place is a crime scene. I've got a team over there right now going over it with a fine tooth comb. I want as much evidence as I can to nail Clooney."

"It's a waste of time. His guys are professionals."

"Even so, we might get lucky. It's worth a shot."

Ray nodded, but stepped closer to the desk, his voice slightly more hushed. "I can't stay with Fraser."

"I know his place is small. I don't know how the guy stands it. Still, I don't want you on your own until we've got this Clooney clown on a leash that'll hold."

"You don't understand."

"What?"

Ray turned and walked over to the window, his arms still crossed, his head pounding with the king of all hangovers. "He wants to talk."

"Talk?"

"Yes, sir. Talk."

"Canadians." Like that explained everything.

"I know. Funny people."

"Still, you're not staying alone." Welsh paused and tilted his head, a small smile creeping to his lips. "You know you could go home with Francesca and spend the next few days with the Vecchios. I doubt if even Clooney could get through that mob. And I'm sure one of them would be more than happy to escort you to your daily sessions with Dr. Reese."

"I never knew you could be such a sadist, sir."

"I'm a cop. I do what works. So, Detective, what's it going to be?"

"Disaster."

"Not if I can help it."

Ray returned to the desk, his voice with a more desperate edge. "Please, Lieutenant, I'm serious here. Just let me rent a room or something."

"He scares you that much, huh?"

Turning, Ray checked out his partner standing patiently in the next room, hat in hand, wolf at his feet. "You've got no idea."

"He looks so harmless."

"So does a baby tiger before it eats your face off. Look, I swear, I'll go straight to this safe place I know and stay there."

Welsh shook his head, the solemn expression filled with a compassion Ray rarely saw. "Bite the bullet, Kowalski. You'll be safer with Fraser. We both know he'd die to protect you."

"That's what I'm afraid of, sir. I don't want another man to die like that."

"Turn that around, Detective. How do you think he'd handle it if something happened to you, something he thought he could've prevented?"

Ray swallowed hard, knowing the answer, the pain of the truth stabbing at his chest. "Not good."

"Right. So maybe the two of you working together might keep both of you alive. How about we try that before we worry too much about losing another partner, okay?"

Reluctantly, Ray nodded. "Okay, sir. Thanks."

"Go get some sleep, Kowalski. You look like hell." Before he turned to leave, Welsh added, "And no more drinking, okay?"

"I'm good."

"Glad to hear it." Hesitating, Welsh rubbed his jaw, his expression suddenly more grim. "I probably shouldn't say this, but I've got a bad feeling about all this. Be on your toes and watch your back. Better yet, be sure to let your partner watch your back and you watch his."

Ray didn't answer, just opened the door and walked out. He knew without a doubt that watching Fraser's backside wasn't the problem. Keeping them both safe, that was something else.

"You part Polish or what?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm not, Ray. Genealogy was one of my grandmother's interests along with her work in the library and doing fine scrimshaw and she never once mentioned it."

Ray leaned forward as he sat at the Consulate's kitchen table. "I just meant, you act like a Polish mom, always trying to feed me."

"Ah. Understood." Fraser stirred the vegetable soup and shrugged. "Still, you haven't eaten all day, Ray. You'll feel much better if you at least have one meal before retiring."

"You always like this?"

"Like what?"

"You know, domestic."

"You consider cooking domestic?"

"And cleaning and taking care of everyone like a mother hen. You should've gotten married, Fraser, had kids. I'll bet you'd make a great dad." Fraser tensed and stayed quiet, his back to Ray. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Not at all."

Ray tapped the table with the spoon nervously. A silent Fraser just didn't seem right. "Hey, that smells good. What is it anyway, muskrat stew or something?"

"Nothing quite so exotic. It's a simple beef stock with a variety of vegetables and pasta that I hope you'll like."

"The beef part sounds good." Maybe he could slip Dief the veggies under the table. The wolf ate almost anything when he couldn't bum doughnuts or pizza.

Fraser served up two bowls of soup and then sat down at the end of the table next to Ray. Instead of eating, he spoke softly. "I thought about having children once."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, as I'm sure you did at one point in your marriage."

Ray shifted uneasily. "Well, you know, Stella, the career, it just didn't work out."

"You're still young enough to try again with someone else."

Ray didn't meet Fraser's eyes, just turned in his chair and looked back down the hallway. "I could sleep in the reception room. No need to crowd in. A couple of blankets and a pillow and I'm good to go."

"You're changing the subject."

"Worth a try."

"You'd be an excellent father."

"I don't see me being a dad, Fraser. It took me a while to accept that."

"Why do you feel the need to accept it?"

"I just do." Ray met Fraser's serious gaze. "What about you? You think about having kids with that Victoria person?"

Fraser smiled sadly. "At one time, yes, but I doubt Victoria ever had the same dreams of family and future bliss that I did."

"Then she was crazy."

"Or more realistic."

"Nothing wrong with having dreams, Fraser. Nothing wrong with wanting someone to love you, to make a life with you, to make that kind of commitment no matter what kind of baggage you're carrying. I think that's a good thing to dream about."

"You're quite the romantic, Ray."

Ray sat up straighter and snorted. "Divorce killed all that. I'm just saying that it's not such a bad thing to want more than what you've got when it comes to a relationship. You find the right woman, you take your shot."

"Finding the right person's not always so easy, Ray. Society sometimes restricts the selection of the person most suited for one's romantic desires."

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. "We talking about generalities here, Fraser, or is there someone in particular you think society would kick your ass about?"

"Both I should think."

Ray flushed and stood up, walking to the back door and staring out. He rattled and checked the lock as his gut clenched, his heartbeat more rapid. "Is it the Ice Queen? I know she's a little older than you and she's your boss, but it's not like you're a kid or anything."

Fraser shook his head. "Being obtuse doesn't suit you, Ray. You know what I'm saying, even if perhaps, I'm saying it poorly."

Busted, Ray sighed. "Okay then, who is he?"

Fraser didn't hesitate at all. "You."

Ray turned, the single word sucker punching his heart. "Me?"

"I apologize for the timing, Ray, but after what you said earlier today, I felt obligated to make my feelings more plain."

Sitting back down, Ray stayed at the other end of the table, working like hell to keep his head clear enough to keep up his end of the conversation. "I said a lot of things. Which thing are we talking about?"

"You said you didn't think that I'd still be your friend when Ray Vecchio returned. Not only do I want to continue to be your friend, but I hope to be much more."

Ray closed his eyes, the world so much wider and more wild than before. "God, Fraser, you sure pick your moments."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

They both stayed quiet a few more seconds before Fraser stood up and came to sit next to his partner. "Ray, if this is too much for you, we don't have to discuss it. We don't ever have to bring up the subject again. I just couldn't let you think that the only reason I'm your friend is because of some undercover assignment. I love you. You're my partner and my best friend, someone with whom I want to spend my whole life regardless of the societal bias against such a union."

Ray lifted his head and met intense blue eyes he could drown in. "You know that the timing's all wrong for this, right?"

"Most definitely."

"And you know I've never been with anyone but Stella. I mean, I've been with other people, just not been with, been with, not like I was with her."

"I know. In fact, your devotion to her in spite of your divorce has been rather daunting."

"Daunted the hell out of me, too. I talk a good game, but I really don't have a lot of experience." He closed his eyes, not wanting to think of those other times, the times he had no choice, the times he never wanted to think about again.

"I know, Ray. That doesn't bother me."

Ray took Fraser's heavier hand and held it, his thumb rubbing the knuckles, his partner's grip just as strong as his own if not stronger. "You got any idea of how scary this is?"

"Not as scary as the idea of you believing I don't care about you, Ray."

Blinking away the sting of tears, Ray shook his head. "I can't do this now. I just can't."

As Fraser tried to pull away, Ray held his hand fast. "That doesn't mean I don't love you. I do."

"You love me?"

"Yeah. It sort of sneaked up on me, but, yeah, I do. I just can't do all the other stuff that goes with that right now."

"Are you talking about sex?"

Heat burned his face. "Might be."

"No need to worry about that. I'm very patient, Ray. I'll wait as long as you need me to wait before we pursue any physical relationship. However, I do like the idea that we might do that at some point in the future."

"You do, huh?"

"Very much so, yes."

Ray chuckled at the sudden huskiness of his partner's voice. "You thought about it a lot then?"

"More times than would be polite to mention." Fraser hooked the back of Ray's neck and drew him closer, his warm breath on Ray's cheek. "I love you, Ray. You had the right to know that. I was tired of keeping it a secret."

The word secret made Ray shudder. As he pulled back, he didn't miss the hurt in Fraser's eyes. "It's not you. I just can't do this right now. I can't. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Ray. I understand. The idea of having a romantic relationship with your male partner must be very strange to you. I'd be surprised if you didn't have some reservations."

"You think I'm antsy about this because you're a guy?"

"Aren't you?"

"Well, maybe, a little, but that's not the whole picture, not even close." Ray stood up and paced the room, his hand running through his hair over and over. "This whole Clooney mess has me all turned around. I'm not fit to be with anybody, least of all somebody like you."

"Like me?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, Fraser, but you're smart and good looking, good looking as in an I can't believe a guy looks that good in real life kind of way. It's like Stella all over again, only wearing a uniform. Hooking up with me can only lead to getting hurt and I don't want that. I hate the idea of you getting hurt because of me."

"I'm not that good looking."

Ray smiled at his partner's protest. "You could be on the cover of all those romance novels Francesca reads, you know the ones that have the guy standing there looking all studly and ruggedly handsome. Yeah, Fraser, you're good looking and you know it. You just don't make a big deal about it, which is one of the things I like most about you. You don't give a shit about stuff like that."

"You're ruggedly handsome, too, Ray."

Ray ignored the comment, afraid to believe it, afraid to even think about how he might look to Fraser. "The point is, I don't want you to get hurt because you've lost your mind and decided to go native, trying out the local flavor here in Chicago."

Shaking his head, Fraser stood up and eased in closer, not touching and keeping his voice soft. "I appreciate your concern for my feelings, Ray, but it would hurt a lot more if I couldn't hook you."

"You mean hook up?"

"Right you are, hook up. Not hooking up would be far more difficult than anything I could imagine."

Against his better judgment, Ray cupped his face lightly, the stubble warm against his palm. "You got it bad, huh?"

"If you mean, I love you beyond reason, yes, Ray, I've got it very bad, the baddest."

Ray chuckled under his breath and leaned in, his lips brushing Fraser's. "Poor schmuck."

Fraser's tongue tip licked Ray's mouth before he kissed him, the touch electric and warm. Ray tingled all the way down to his toe tips as Fraser pulled back. "Lucky schmuck seems more fitting, Ray."

Ray laughed and hugged him, his face resting on his shoulder. Arms squeezed him tightly and he relaxed within the loving embrace. "Yeah, Fraser, that would be my new name, Lucky Schmuck Kowalski. At least it beats the hell out of Stanley."

Fraser petted back the soft blond hair from Ray's forehead, amazed at its silky texture, so different from what he'd expected. He loved touching it, loved touching Ray.

"You know, I used to watch your mother sleep in the very same fashion. Of course, in those days we had campfires instead of these infernal light bulbs, but all the same, it was a brilliant view." He paused and sighed lightly. "Seems like those quiet times are the ones I remember the most fondly."

Fraser didn't look up, but kept his voice low. "I'm worried about him, Dad."

"Doesn't take a Mountie to see that, Son."

"He's exhausted and his eating habits are atrocious."

"He is a bit scrawny. He's got a sound build though. Just needs some meat on his bones. Take him up North and feed him. Fatten him up or he'll never survive the winter."

"I don't think Ray has any intention of going to Canada even for me, and I won't leave him. I can't."

"This whole nasty business has been hard on him, Benton. You should take him to the cabin for a while. The fresh air and hard work will do you both a world of good."

Fraser turned and met his father's concerned gaze. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the man who's intent on harming the Yank isn't going to give up easily and fighting that level of evil takes it out of a man. He's going to need a strong shoulder. The best part of a partnership is the support that each gives the other. Your mother and I understood that. She was a wonderful woman. Marrying her was the best thing I ever did, bar none."

Fraser smiled. "Is this your way of giving us your blessing?"

"Well, that goes without saying, Son, and I can't claim to be surprised. You've been mooning over the Yank ever since you first saw him."

"Mooning? I most certainly have not been mooning."

"You most certainly have. No point in denying it. It's been downright embarrassing how you make eyes at the man, but being dead, I can't really say much."

"No, you most assuredly cannot. However, I do appreciate that this can't be easy for you."

"Love is nothing new, Son. I'm just glad you finally came to your senses and stopped acting like some lovesick otter. No criticism intended, but your romantic choices in the past have, shall we say, been unfortunate."

"Thank you for that. Tact was never your strong suit."

"And following your heart has never been yours. Now, I'm not saying to make it a regular practice, Son. For a Mountie that could be a disastrous course. Lord knows the villains abound who can turn out the sob stories to persuade us toward more lenient results. Still, when one finds the right partner, you've just got to take a chance and hope the stew doesn't burn before you experience the true flavor."

Before Fraser could reply, Ray groaned in his sleep and rolled over on the narrow cot. His eyelids fluttered. "Who's that?"

Fraser frowned. "It's me, Ray."

"No, I mean the guy you were just talking to."

"You were dreaming."

Ray took a couple of deep breaths, his words still thick and sleepy. "Weird. Seemed real."

"Go back to sleep. Everything's fine."

Reaching out, Ray took Fraser's hand in his and squeezed it. He kept his eyes closed, trying to keep from fully waking up. "You need to get some sleep, too."

"I will. Dief will stand guard in just a little bit." With a reassuring kiss to his temple, Fraser whispered, "I love you, Ray. Rest easy."

Ray didn't answer, his breathing evening out, his hand relaxed. Fraser put it back under the cover and sat back, his mind pondering why Ray might be able to hear his father now when he never could before. The word family came to mind. He smiled at the comfort of that thought as he ruffled Diefenbaker's fur and sent him to the front door to stand watch for the rest of the night.

The persistent pounding at his temples woke him up slowly, the nausea not far behind. Ray groaned and turned over on the cot, pulling the covers closer to his neck before an eager, wet tongue licked his face.

"Jeez, Dief. Stop with the slobber, okay?"

The wolf barked and licked him one more time for good measure, but then sat there and stared in that annoying wolf way. Sighing, Ray opened his eyes wider and then quickly closed them again. "God, my head."

Dief nudged his shoulder and Ray surrendered. He sat up slowly and looked around. "Fraser?"

Alarmed at no immediate response, he reached for his jeans and stopped. "Fraser, where the hell are my clothes?"

The office door opened and Fraser stepped in. "Good morning, Ray."

"My clothes are gone."

"I took the liberty of washing and ironing your things, Ray. We didn't have the opportunity to get a fresh outfit from your apartment, so I thought it the best option."

"You washed and ironed my stuff, even my T-shirt?"

"Yes, I did."

"You don't iron T-shirts, Fraser?"

"Why not?"

"You just don't." Ray ran a hand through his wild hair, his headache more intense than before.

"I don't see why such an important item of your attire should be excluded, but I'll certainly remember it for future reference. As for the rest of your things, I felt uncomfortable relieving you of your undergarments. I could wash those now or, I suppose, you could go guerilla."

"Guerilla? You mean commando?"

"Precisely."

Ray laughed and then grabbed his head. "You're a freak."

"Understood. Would you like some willow bark tea with a bit of fennel? I've read that it's good for relieving the symptoms of overindulgence."

"I just want coffee and my clothes."

"I'm fixing breakfast."

"I don't want any breakfast. Just the coffee."

"Ray."

"Don't start. Just get me my clothes so we can go see Welsh." Fraser didn't respond, just stood quietly and stared. "What?"

"You were restless last night."

"Weird dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"

"Well, there was this one where this old guy with a fur hat kept showing me all around Canada. Funny thing though, it wasn't really that cold walking in the snow up to my ass. The really strange part was he reminded me of you."

Fraser tensed. "How so?"

"Just the way he talked, all proper, with big words and telling stories about the caribou and catching scumbags. He just sounded like a Mountie, is all. Weird, huh?"

Fraser's expression softened, but he didn't answer the question. "I'll get your clothes, Ray."

As he turned to go, Ray added, "Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"You ever think about going back?"

"Sometimes."

"So you miss it a lot, huh?"

Fraser sighed and didn't meet his eyes. "Ray, I...it's not something...I mean to say, it's hard to explain how I miss it."

"Why? You get homesick. I get that. I was thinking maybe when this whole deal with Clooney's over, we could go up and see your old man's cabin or something. In my dream it seemed kind of nice."

"You saw my father's cabin in your dreams?"

"Like I said, weird dreams."

"Apparently." Fraser's face and voice brightened, his blue eyes sparkling. "Still, I do have several weeks of leave time accumulated. If you're serious, I'm sure a visit could be arranged. It is rather a remote area though. Are you sure you'd want to go that far north?"

"If you're there, yeah, I'm sure."

Fraser smiled, his face more radiant than Ray could remember for a while. "Well, then, I'll most certainly look into it."

"You do that. Meanwhile, I need my clothes. Turnbull will be here in a minute and I don't want to give the guy too big a thrill."

Fraser chuckled as he headed off to the kitchen. "No, Ray, we certainly wouldn't want that."

Puzzled by the playful tone, Ray stood up and wrapped himself in the blanket as he followed behind Fraser. "Okay, what's that supposed to mean?"

"What?"

"Don't make out you don't get what I'm asking. What's up with Turnbull?"

Fraser flushed and shook his head. "No, Ray, it would be unfair of me to say anything."

"About what?"

"About Turnbull's feelings toward you."

"Feelings? What kind of feelings?"

Fraser picked up the freshly pressed jeans from the ironing board and handed them to Ray. "I shouldn't."

"Shouldn't what? Come on, Fraser, that's not buddies. Spill."

"I suspect Turnbull is quite smitten with a certain Chicago detective who spends time here."

"Turnbull? Turnbull likes me?"

"I'm afraid so, Ray. One might say he's even besotted, though I find it difficult to find fault at such a condition."

Ray draped the blanket over the chair and pulled on his jeans, noting the slight flair of Fraser's nostrils as he dressed. He reached over for his T-shirt and shook his head as he teased. "God, you Canadians. Who knew you liked Yankees so much."

"And what about Yankees, Ray? Do you like Canadians?"

"You're a funny people, Fraser, but, yeah, I have to admit, I kind of like Canadians, well, except for the Ice Queen." Ray smoothed down his Bulls T-shirt and shrugged. "Hey, it doesn't look half bad ironed."

"I'm glad. Coffee, Ray?"

"Sure." As Ray sat down at the table, Fraser handed him a glass of water and two aspirin before pouring the coffee. "Thanks." He took the pills gratefully and then drank the water straight down. As he reached for the coffee, the phone rang.

Fraser answered in his formal tone. "Canadian Consulate. Constable Fraser here. How may I assist you?"

Ray held the cup between two hands as he noted his partner's sudden stiffness. He listened to the short, one-sided conversation and then waited in dread for Fraser to hang up and explain. "What's going on?"

Fraser frowned and licked his bottom lip. "I'm afraid it's bad news."

"I kind of got that. Was that Welsh?"

"Yes. It seems Michael Clooney is no longer in custody."

"Fuck." For once Fraser didn't call him on his language. "What the hell happened?"

"I'm afraid I don't have all the details. I do know that Lt. Welsh wants us in his office right away and that one of the Federal officers watching Clooney is dead and the other missing."

"Oh, God. Not again." Ray closed his eyes, the past rising up like a screeching shadow. He moved to the sink just fast enough to retch and then sink down, his arms clutching his upraised knees.

Fraser kneeled beside him, his hand on his back, his voice low. "It's okay, Ray. It's not you. You're safe."

Words choked. "You don't know what it's like knowing."

"Knowing what?"

"Knowing what the fuck he's going to do."

Fraser paused and then squeezed his shoulder gently. "Do you know where he'll take the other agent?"

"I just know where he took me." He closed his eyes, unable to push away the wall of pain flooding over him. The memories poured in, the overwhelming fear, the knowledge that it could happen again.

"Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray."

The voice brought him back, just barely. "What?"

"Did he take you where the officers found you before?"

"No." Ray dropped his face to his hands, closing his eyes. "He's got this place out in the country. It's not where he stays, but it's where he goes when he's got some kind of special thing goin'."

"That wasn't in your notes."

"I know."

"Ray, we need to tell Welsh and Turner where to go. We might be able to save this other man's life and recapture Clooney."

Ray shook his head. "It's probably too late, but Turner knows."

"Captain Turner is aware of the location?"

"Yeah." Air thinned and Ray leaned his head back, breathing faster, his lungs heavy and too tight. "God, I can't breathe."

A firm hand stroked his chest as another massaged the back of his neck. "Just relax, Ray. You're safe. I'm here."

Ray didn't bother with words, just kept gasping for air, praying that whoever found Clooney would just shoot the son of a bitch in the head. He didn't even have to be there, just shoot the bastard and let him fucking bleed into the earth, let his guts rot away and his brain splatter all over the damn planet.

And he still couldn't catch his breath.

"Better?" Ray took the water and nodded, his hands still shaky. "Ray, I called Lt. Welsh. He's sending a car."

"I can drive."

Fraser glanced away briefly, but then met his eyes. "That's the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"Your vehicle has been vandalized."

"He trashed my car? Shit."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I know how much your car means to you. I assure you, it's nothing permanent. A paint job and tires and it should look quite refurbished. Seems he wanted to send a message rather than actually destroy the engine or other vital systems."

"He knew where I was the whole time."

"Quite likely, yes."

"Son of a bitch."

"Ray, I know this isn't easy, and I don't mean to pry, but there seems to be quite a bit about this case that's not in the official file."

"I'm not talking about that."

"I understand."

"Don't keep saying that."

"I'm sorry."

"And don't fucking be sorry. It's not your fault I can't talk about all this. It's not you, Fraser. It's me. I tried to explain last night, but no, you just wanted to act like I'm not fucked up, like I can just have a decent relationship like a normal person. I can't."

Fraser sat down in the chair beside him, his voice soft. "Normal isn't something I ever expected from you, Ray. Then again, as you're more than willing to point out, I'm not exactly normal, either."

"You're missing the point."

"I don't think so. I love you. That will never change."

"St. Fraser, Mountie of the hopeless causes."

"I'm not Catholic, Ray."

Ray groaned and dropped his head to the table, resting it on his folded arms. "I just want this shit to be over."

"I know that. I wish there were something more I could do to make it easier for you. I find myself at a loss to know what that is."

Ray's voice shook as he reached out and took Fraser's hand. "Just be here."

"Consider it done." Fraser squeezed his hand in return and then ruffled Ray's hair playfully. "Now, you should probably take care of some personal hygiene before we go to the station."

"You saying my breath stinks?"

"That, and your hair, well, it could use some attention as well. Flat doesn't suit you."

"You like me spiky, huh?"

Fraser flushed, his voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned in. "I'd like you bald, Ray, but, yes, I do like your hair when it's more, shall we say, aggressive. It matches your personality."

Ray wanted to kiss him, but sat up straight instead. "Got a spare toothbrush and some toothpaste?"

"Certainly. We have a guest package for our visitors."

"Guess I qualify."

Fraser got up and retrieved a small package of toiletries. "Here. Would you like some more aspirin?"

"I took some."

"But you didn't keep them down."

"True. Sure." Ray took the offered pills and downed them with some water. He handed the glass back to Fraser. "We got any more coffee?"

"Ray, you really should eat something."

Shaking his head, Ray took the package, and headed to the bathroom. "If the car shows up, tell'em I'll be out in a minute."

"Certainly."

Clicking the door shut behind him, Ray leaned back against it and closed his eyes. God, how he hated Clooney, fucking hated how the man could still make him feel like shit after all this time. Swallowing hard, he set his jaw and turned toward the mirror, avoiding his reflection when he could. He rubbed his face, the stubble burning his hands, but he didn't take time to bother with shaving. Quickly, he wet his hair and ran his hand through it, making it stand up and pay attention. It should dry that way if he could keep from fiddling with it.

Brushing his teeth, Ray nearly gagged at the sudden flash of images, the intrusion of sensations that took over. Rough hands held him down, ropes wrapping his wrists and ankles. Oily sweat rubbed against his skin, burning, his body bruised and stretched to its limit.

Fuck.

He choked and sputtered, spitting out the paste. He rinsed his mouth and then washed his face and hands a lot more times than he needed. Didn't seem to matter how many times he used soap and water, the dirt never came off. The stink he carried for being a cop made his stomach turn. The old man knew the score. Cops dealt with shit on a daily basis and there was no way to get the stench off once a guy wallowed in it.

Extending his arms, he leaned against the sink and shut his eyes. "Get the fuck out of my head, asshole."

The knock at the door startled him. "Ray?"

"I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

"The car's here. I've got your jacket and weapons."

His guns. Oh, yeah, he needed his guns, especially if Clooney showed his ugly face anywhere close enough to aim a bullet through his thick skull.

"You look like shit, Kowalski."

"Thank you, Captain. Nice to see you again, too." Ray didn't smile, just kept his voice steady, grateful for years of practice on the tough streets of Chicago. "Where do we stand with Clooney?"

Turner frowned and took a deep breath. "The Feds are running around, ready to pop the guy if they catch him. Can't say I'd cry if that happened. The guy must be crazier than we thought."

"You think they might put his ass in prison now, sir?"

Welsh interrupted before Turner could bother to answer. "They found the other agent dead. We didn't get there in time to stop it." Welsh rubbed his mouth and paused, his voice choked with emotion. "Son of a bitch raped the poor guy and then shot him in the head."

Ray sank down on the couch, his face hot, his gut knotted. He fought down the urge to throw up again. He couldn't make himself speak, not without wanting to kick out the office windows first.

Fraser stepped closer, but didn't touch him, his voice unusually tight. "Do we have any idea about what Clooney might do next?"

Welsh looked over at Ray. "My guess is he's going to come after Kowalski here. The man doesn't seem to care that there's a nationwide manhunt going down."

"We've got both the Feds and the locals working on this around the clock, Ray." Turner fisted his hands, his jaw clenched. "But Welsh is right. I figure he's coming after you next. Got to. You're the one who got away last time. You're the one man he wants to suffer before he goes so far underground, we'll never find his sorry ass. In his head, you're the one who started this whole mess by living when you were supposed to be dead."

Ray lifted his head, meeting the dark eyes, the idea sparking between them at the same time. "You can use me as bait."

"Ray, no. That's far too dangerous."

Welsh supported that position. "The Constable is right. We'll get this guy, but there's no way I'm putting you at risk any more than we have to. You've been through enough with this scumbag. There's no way."

Turner shook his head, but kept his eyes trained on Ray. "No, Lieutenant. I think if Ray here thinks he can lure Clooney in, we should let him try."

"With all due respect, sir, that's not a good idea. For one thing, he's on restricted duty. For another, it's a shitty idea."

"I have to agree with Lt. Welsh. You of all people know what Detective Kowalski went through, being assaulted and losing his partner. You know what a profound effect that's had on his life. Surely, you can't ask him to put himself in that kind of danger again."

"He's not asking, Fraser. I'm offering. I want to get this asshole, get it over with. The best defense is a good offense. I can't just sit around and wait for him to come after me again. Don't ask me to do that. I've got to do something."

"You will do something, Ray. You'll let us keep you safe while a whole country full of police officers and federal agents hunt down this fugitive. You don't need to do this. You've got nothing to prove."

Before Ray could answer, Turner piped in. "I hate to say this, but they're right, Ray. I'm sorry. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth."

"You don't think I can handle him."

"That's not the issue. The thing is, I need you alive. When we catch this prick, the old charges will be added on. You'll need to testify. You can't do that if you're dead or too fucked up to handle what's going to come out."

The whole room stilled at the unspoken meaning behind the words.

Ray leaned forward, his trembling hands together, his head down. "He's killed three cops, Captain. He tired to kill me. The rest, well, the rest doesn't really matter much anymore."

"Yeah, Ray, you keep telling yourself that." Turner moved to Welsh's desk. "There's a safe house I can put him in. You want to handle the security or do you want me to do it?"

"I'll do it. I've got plenty of volunteers." Welsh motioned at Fraser. "And I've gotten permission from Constable Fraser's boss, Inspector Thatcher, to use all the Mountie power we need."

"That's good then. I'll go set it up and coordinate with the Feds. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours."

"Fine. I'll watch over him until then."

Turner moved to the door and stopped. "We'll get this prick, Ray."

As soon as the captain left, Ray sat back, his arms crossed, holding his insides together. Welsh cleared his throat. "I hate to bring this up, but you've still got that thing with Dr. Reese. I called him and let him know what was going on, but he insisted that you keep the appointment."

"You're kidding. Come on, Lieutenant, please tell me you're kidding."

"Seems Dr. Reese has this theory about how when a detective is already suffering from stress, that a situation like this can only make it worse. He thought you might need to talk about it."

"I don't believe this. I mean, I really don't fucking believe this. Sir, please, I don't need to talk about any of this right now. I'm good, honest."

"Good? Seen a mirror recently, Detective?" Welsh nodded to Fraser. "Constable, may I assume you'll take charge here, make sure he goes where he's supposed to and doesn't pull any foolhardy shenanigans?"

"Absolutely, sir. You can rely on me."

"Traitor."

"Now, Ray, the Lieutenant only has your best interests at heart."

"I'm talking about you, Fraser. You're taking sides again."

Fraser sat down on the couch beside him, his hand on his shoulder. "I'm on your side, Ray. I always will be."

Ray wanted to jerk away, but didn't. Fatigue made his head and tongue way too heavy. Instead, he just closed his eyes and waited to be jostled and led out to the car by the Mountie who kept loving him no matter what the fuck happened.

Ray stared at Reese who just smiled back with that more patient than God look that drove Ray really crazy. He got up and circled the office, his body tense, his words flying out. "I need to get out there, pound the pavement, find out what's what. Clooney's out there and I know I can find him. I mean, I know the guy, know his habits, where he hangs out. I could get this son of a bitch if people would just stop treating me like I'm some kind of whack job."

"Do you really think you've got a better chance of finding him than the FBI and the whole Chicago police force?"

"I know that sounds snooty, like I think I'm better than anybody else. That's not it, not it at all. It's just, I know how this guy thinks. Besides, he wants me dead. I think if I can lure him out, I can nail him."

"I take it the police have said no to that plan?"

"But I could do it. I know I could." Ray shook his head and then leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. "But they won't even let me piss by myself. Might as well be in prison, trapped in a cage. Might as well chain me to the fucking wall here." He suddenly slammed his fist into the wall behind him and then closed his eyes, his mind swimming in the images of being powerless and gagging.

"Ray?"

He stayed silent for several long moments before he finally answered. "What?"

"Tell me how you're feeling right now."

Ray laughed, first lightly and then a big belly laugh that just kept coming. He couldn't stop himself even as he slid down to the floor. What a stupid ass question, such a typical shrink question, a question he sure as shit didn't want to answer. It took forever to control himself, to make himself quit, to make the whole deal seem real again. He swallowed hard, his voice shaky. "How do you think I feel?" He ran his hand through his hair and rested his chin on his upraised knees. "I think I'm going crazy."

"I think you're just frustrated and angry, maybe a little scared."

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"Do you feel crazy?"

"Sometimes."

"What does that mean to you, to feel crazy?"

Ray shrugged. "I don't know, weird, like I don't have any control over my life anymore, like people think I'm losing it, like when I freak at little things sometimes. Or people try to be nice and I get suspicious, like what do they fucking want, because everybody's got to want something, right? Can't just want to be nice, not to Ray Kowalski or Ray Vecchio, whatever. And I jump at little noises, have weird dreams, can't eat or sleep right half the time. I get so pissed off at stupid shit, stuff that doesn't even matter. Everything seems too closed in, too wide open, too everything. Like I'm crawling out of my skin, all jumpy, not able to settle down and just be peaceful like Fraser."

Ray paused, not sure if he could even say it out loud, say it and not be blasted by a bolt of lightning. "And I love the wrong people. I loved Stella, God, how I loved Stella, but she left me, left me like our life together didn't even matter. Said I was too needy, too clingy, not enough ambition. And now I think I love somebody else, somebody I shouldn't love because it'll be rough on both of us if I do, but I do, I really do love him." Ray lifted his head and met the brown eyes. "That doesn't sound crazy?"

"Confused, maybe, a little self-defeatist, but, no, not crazy."

"Confused? Yeah, that about covers it. I'm confused about a lot of shit."

"So maybe we should talk about that."

"I thought I just did."

"You listed a lot of feelings, Ray. I think we need to go through them one at a time."

"God. I don't think I can do that."

"I think you pretty much have to. Where would you like to start?"

"I don't know. I don't even want to fucking do this."

"Well, you could start by getting up and moving to the chair or you could stay on the floor, whatever's more comfortable."

"A bed of nails sounds about right."

"Then why don't we start with this person you say you've fallen in love with. You were married to a woman, but now you're attracted to a man. Tell me about that."

"No. Not going to happen. I just can't. Not yet."

"All right. Tell me about those 'little things' you mentioned that freak you out. Can you give me an example?"

"It's stupid."

"Nothing's stupid if it bothers you, Ray. You need to trust me."

Ray snorted and cracked his neck before he stood up and paced. "That's another thing. I don't trust easy. It's hard to say all this to a stranger."

"Everything you say here is confidential."

"Not really. You write a report and somebody else reads it. That's not private, not even close."

"I write a report of recommendations, not details. My notes and personal records are privileged and protected. No one has to know the specifics of what you tell me, just the general diagnosis and what I think is the best course of treatment, if any."

Ray settled in the chair, hunched over, his hands moving with his words. "This ain't brain surgery, Doc. It's all subjective. You hear me say stuff and then tell me I need therapy, counseling, or who the fuck knows. Someone else might think different. Bottom line, I have to trust my own instincts, go with my gut, and my gut says I don't want to waste time talking about all this shit. None of it matters. I just want to go out there and get rid of Clooney and get back to my job, do what I'm good at. That's the only thing that's going to make it all better, make me feel like I've got some kind of control again."

Reese sat forward and put his hands together on the desk. "Before you became a cop, what steps did you have to go through?"

"What?"

"What steps?"

"I had to go to the academy, learn the ropes, see how others did the job."

"And now you've been hurt on the job. Now you've got some other steps to go through if you want to keep working. I understand you don't want to talk about your problems. That's not uncommon. However, you can't ignore them, either."

"Only because you won't let me. I can do the job, better than just about anybody out there. I think I've proven that, got the medals, got the commendations. Wanna buy a T-shirt? I don't need all this talking about it bullshit. I just don't get why I have to be here."

"Ever heard of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

"Maybe." Ray shifted uneasily. "What's that got to do with me?"

"Do you have any idea what the symptoms are?"

"What difference does it make? It's got nothing to do with me."

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, has everything to do with you, Detective. It explains a lot of your behavior."

Ray came out of the chair, shaking his head and protesting. "I thought you said I wasn't crazy."

"You're not. You might feel like it sometimes. PTSD is like that. The presentation isn’t always the same, but you exhibit some classic symptoms. The irritability, anger, inability to sleep or eat, freaking out at little things, as you call it, feeling out of control, difficulty in relationships and with trust, sexual confusion."

"Wait a minute, hold up. I'm not sexually confused."

"You were married to a woman with whom you base your entire sexual history. Now you say you love a man. I'd call that sexual confusion. It doesn't mean the feelings you have for this person aren't real, but they might cause you to feel anxious and even more frustrated. That's especially true in the police world where gay relationships aren't easily accepted. What's important is that you learn to accept that part of your sexuality, if that's what you really want in a romantic relationship."

Ray stood very still and closed his eyes. He wiped his face with both hands before he found his voice again. "So you think that's what's causing me to act like I've been acting, like I'm slipping gears because of this postywhatever?"

"With your history, I'd say it's highly likely."

"What do we do about it?"

"We talk."

"Talk? Just talk?"

"Sometimes it helps to do behavior modification."

"Behavior who?"

"Modification. It has to do with reinforcing the positive rather than the negative behaviors. It's like the homework I talked about, making goals and lists, trying to think about what you can do when you panic or feel overwhelmed by strong emotions."

"Sounds hard."

"It can be."

"And this talking and behavior stuff works for other people?"

"In my experience working with cops, yes, it works more than it doesn't if the person really works at it."

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes."

"Answer much?"

Reese sat back, his face still calm, but more serious. "It's never the same for two people. I will tell you that sometimes the feelings the sessions stir up are very volatile."

"Volatile? Hell, if I got any more volatile, I'd fucking explode."

"That's why we need to talk, to avoid uncontrolled expression. I'd like to think that working with me will make your life better, more calm. It's not just about getting you back on the job. It's about making you feel better about yourself and your life as a whole."

Ray covered his mouth and then sagged back down in the chair. "But I need to work. If I do what you say, come here, do the goals and stuff, can I get back to the streets?"

Reese shrugged, noncommittal. "I can't promise, but if we do this and I think you're really trying, I don't see why not. You'll need to be committed to the process."

"Hell, that's better than being committed for real, right?"

"Plain talk here, Detective. You bullshit me, and I'll yank you off duty completely, no desk, no streets, just medical leave. Right now you're on a desk until my final evaluation. You might be off restrictions by next week if you're cooperative. No mind games, no lies, just working on getting better." Reese paused, his voice suddenly more forceful. "And it matters to me because I have to be convinced you're not going to walk into a bullet or blow somebody away because you've had a bad day."

Throat dry, Ray wished like hell he could just walk away, be a real cop again, a cop who didn't have to jump through so many fucking hoops. Resolved to finish faster, he nodded. "Listen, I'll do what I have to, but I can do plain talk, too. Hell, that's my lingo. I got some things that are off limits, things I won't talk about, things I'm not ready to talk about. I gotta know that it's okay to say no."

"That's fair. Up to a point."

"Why up to a point? Why can't I have some say in what we talk about?"

"You do have some say, Ray, but sometimes I'll need to push you when I think holding back keeps you from being able to move forward."

"So what you're saying is, I can say no, but you're going to keep pushing me anyway, pushing me until kicking you in the head feels better than keeping my badge."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. You're a tough guy, I can see that. I won't push harder than I think you can handle. But you need to know, Ray, that this is an ongoing process, not a few sessions, a pat on the back, and it's over. PTSD is a chronic condition."

"Makes me all twitchy to think about. Couldn't I just box a few rounds, get it out of my system?"

Reese shrugged and sat back, his face even more serious. "Box all you want, but you're going to talk, too. That's just the way it is. Can you handle that, Ray?"

"Guess I'll have to."

"Then we should probably start with Clooney. Tell me about what really happened the night he killed your partner."

The words slammed him back, blacked out cooperation faster than a one-two punch from a heavyweight champion. Swallowing hard, Ray shook his head. "When Clooney's busted or dead, yeah, but not yet."

"All right, but what about your partner? Can you just talk about him? What was he like?"

"Ricky? He was an asshole who got himself shot, a guy I trusted and who almost got me killed. That what you want to hear? That he wasn't the great guy everybody thinks he was? Is that good enough for you?"

"You sound angry."

"Yeah, pissed, but I'll live. Ricky's dead. End of story. Dot it, file it, put it in a box marked done. It's over. Nobody needs to know the details."

"What are the details?"

"Didn't I just say, nobody needs to know?" Ray stood up, his legs achy with the need to work out. He wobbled his head to loosen his neck muscles and threw a few punches at shadows. "Drop it, Doc. He blew our cover and he died because of it."

"You almost died, too, Ray."

"But I didn't. God, I need to go to the gym, get in a few rounds. I'm way too tight here." Ray threw some more jabs at the wall as he did some footwork.

"Ray, sit down and we'll close out for the day."

"You ever box?"

"Ray."

Ray stopped boxing and turned. "What?"

"Focus."

"On what? Talking about dead guys? I don't need that. Look, what do you want me to say, that I'm sorry he's dead, that I'm sorry he fucked up and almost got me killed, too? Then, okay, I'm sorry. Can I go now?"

"In a minute. Sit down first." Reluctantly, Ray sat down, his eyes refusing to meet Reese's. "There's nothing wrong with being angry. What I'd like you to do is figure out how to channel that anger into something more constructive. You want to box, then go box. Just make sure that you're doing most of the punching and not punishing yourself for the death of a man you cared about. Angry as you are, he was still your partner."

"I know that. I fucking know that. I also know that no matter what I do, he'll still be dead, fucking rotting in the ground for being stupid and greedy enough to trust a man like Clooney." Ray's voice cracked and he still didn't look up. "Sometimes I hate him, hate what he did. And sometimes I hate myself, too, because I should've seen it, seen the change. We were there to watch each other's back and we both fucked up."

"He betrayed you."

"Yes."

"But you feel guilty because you didn't see what was happening?"

"I'm a detective. I should've known he'd turned."

Reese's eyes narrowed. "Why do you think you and Rick Hanlon were chosen to go undercover in the first place?"

"I don't know. I guess because we were both good actors, good at blending in."

"And do you think Hanlon was as good an actor as you?"

"Better."

"So if he fooled Clooney and everyone on the force, is it really surprising that he could lie well enough to fool you, too? I mean, you were probably the one person he most wanted to fool."

Sighing, Ray ran his right hand through his hair, the spikes flattening out. "I never really thought about it like that. I guess that's true. Son of a bitch went out of his way to make sure I wouldn't catch on." Ray leaned forward, his belly still jumpy. "I guess I just wish I'd seen it in time, that's all."

"You think his deception has anything to do with your trust issues now?"

Ray snorted, almost amused. "Shrink much, Doc? It's one of the reasons I didn't want another partner."

"But you've got one now."

"Fraser's different, not like Ricky or anyone else. Hell, if I can't trust Fraser, I might as well hang it up as a cop and race cars into a brick wall. It'd be safer."

"More safe than falling in love with your partner?"

Closing his eyes, Ray took a deep breath, not surprised Reese figured it out. "I didn't mean for it to happen. It sort of snuck up on me when I wasn't looking."

"And he feels the same way about you?"

"Says he does. Don't know why. He's usually got better sense, being Canadian and all. I think he's getting the cheap end of the bargain."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'm sitting in a shrink's office and you have to ask?"

"Speaking of which, I want to see you same time tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'd like you to do the homework you didn't do yesterday. I want you to make a list of all the good things in your life that don't involve police work."

Ray stood up and headed to the door, knowing that it would be a short list with Fraser's name in all capital letters.

At the safe house Ray paced, arms crossed, the tension making every muscle in his body complain in unison. Add to that, his head hurt, the kind of constant throbbing that stretched from the top of his skull down the back of his neck. He stopped long enough to rub his temples, the massage not helping ease the pain one little bit.

"Ray, you should sit down and try to relax."

"This is stupid. I should be out there doing something, not locked up here wasting time and taxpayers’ money."

"You've done everything you can for the moment. You've given them all your files on Clooney and consulted with the leaders of the task force. Everything that can be done is being done by your government and the Chicago PD. I've been very impressed with the overall effort in joining both forces in a concerted effort to bring this man to justice."

Ray stepped to the back of the sofa, leaning in. "Then let's at least go to the gym. I need to work out, punch a bag, spar a little, do something."

"Ray, you know we can't do that."

Frustrated, Ray smacked the back of the sofa and then paced a few more times before slumping down in the chair opposite Fraser. "I'm no good at waiting."

"We've only been here a few hours."

"I'm really no good at waiting. Never have been. I have to stay here much longer and I'll go nuts."

"Perhaps a game of poker would distract you."

"Poker?"

"Yes. One never knows when the skill will be useful in another investigation."

Ray pinched his nose and shook his head. "I'm all out of air, Fraser. Maybe later."

"I could make you some willow bark tea for your headache."

"What makes you think I've got a headache?"

"The way you keep wrinkling your forehead and rubbing your temples. You also hold yourself differently, more tightly."

"I just took some more aspirin, but they're not working."

Fraser got up and stood behind the chair, his hands settling on Ray's shoulders. Ray flinched at the gentle squeeze. "You're very tense."

"Yeah, well, being forced to be somewhere you don't want to be will do that." Strong hands massaged Ray's shoulders, the touch warm, rhythmic, almost too much. Sighing, Ray relaxed slightly. "That feels great."

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"You've been unnaturally quiet since your meeting with Dr. Reese."

"You saying I usually jabber?"

"I'd never say that about your conversational style. When you talk, it always makes sense after a fashion. No, I meant, you've been rather reticent and I was wondering if there's anything you might want to discuss."

Ray pulled away, standing and walking into the kitchen. Fraser followed and stood in the doorway while Ray poured himself coffee. He settled at the table, both hands wrapped around the mug. "Reese is making me stick to the sessions for a while."

"Then he has reason to believe you would benefit from counseling."

"For now he's just evaluating, but I see that coming. That's not the point. The point is, that I'm feeling hemmed in. I'm stuck here, I'm stuck there, and Clooney's in my head and won't get the fuck out." Ray paused, his throat tight. "It took me a long time to get over what happened. I thought I had it licked. Then Clooney starts in with the phone calls and it's all back again, like before, but worse because I really thought it was over. I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin and everything just sort of flashes in my head, Ricky dying, the pain, the fear. I need to finish with this, but I don't seem to be able to, not as long as Clooney's out there running around free and I'm stuck here."

Fraser settled across from him at the narrow table. "I know how difficult it is for you to stay here when you'd rather take a more active role in Clooney's recapture. I'd feel the same way if someone had tried to keep me from finding my father's killers."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing."

"But you are doing something, Ray. Clooney knows you're alive and can testify against him. He's obsessed with you. That makes him vulnerable. Staying here at the safe house is the best way to assure that he'll eventually make a mistake and be brought to justice."

"It's not the same."

"Understood."

Ray pushed the coffee away and rested his head forward on his arms. His voice muffled, he talked quietly. "God, I don't want to have to testify."

"Why not?"

"It'll be like living through it all over again."

"This man killed your partner and assaulted you, Ray. He deserves prison."

"He deserves worse. The problem is that if this thing goes to trial, I'll have to tell things about my partner only a few people know."

"You're talking about his betrayal."

"Yeah. His wife Linda and everyone else thinks he died a good cop. If I have to testify, she'll find out what really happened."

"What did really happen, Ray?"

Ray closed his eyes, taking several long breaths, his lungs tight. "You read the file."

"It said that your partner blew your cover because he was making a deal with Clooney, the intimation being that he took money to turn you in and act as a double agent on his return to the department."

"That about covers it."

"But Clooney killed him."

"Yeah. He said he could never trust a crooked cop. Had a thing for loyalty. Even said he admired me for it when he was beating me half to death."

"Ah."

"Don't start with the ahhing, Fraser."

"Sorry, Ray. It's just the criminal mentality is so intriguingly convoluted."

"If you mean he's a twisted fuck, then yeah, that works." Ray sat back up and drank some of his coffee. He made a face. "Man, this crap is so bad, it makes me yearn for the stuff at the station."

"It is a bit strong. I think it's been here a while. Perhaps a new pot with a different formulation would be in order."

"No, this is okay."

"Ray, I don't mean to belabor the point, but you still haven't eaten today. Perhaps you'd feel better after some proper nutrition."

"Okay, but I think I'll take a shower first. I didn't get one this morning and I reek."

"Is there any particular repast you'd enjoy?"

"Surprise me."

Fraser nodded as Ray walked out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bathroom. He closed the door and then dropped the lid of the toilet. Light-headed, Ray sagged down, closing his eyes and praying he didn't end up face down on the tiles. Fraser had enough to worry about.

After a few moments, he sat back up and cleared his throat. Looking around, he noted the window. On impulse, he tested it and cursed. Someone nailed the fucking thing shut.

Defeated and angry, Ray slammed out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen. "How could you not trust me like that?"

Fraser turned and met his gaze, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"The windows, Fraser. They're nailed shut. What if there's a fire? What if we have to get out in a hurry?"

"Actually, they're not nailed, Ray, but fastened with special locks and an alarm system. The glass is tempered and bulletproof. It's for your protection."

"And you have the keys?"

"A master key and yes, I do."

"And why don't I get a key?"

"I should think the answer to that is pretty obvious."

"You don't trust me."

Fraser's expression softened. "I trust you with my life, Ray."

"But not enough to give me the fucking key?"

Reaching into his pocket, Fraser pulled out his key ring and slipped one off. He held it out. "All I ask is that you give me your word you won't use it to go out on your own. If you leave, then I have to go with you."

Shaking his head, still pissed, Ray walked from the room, Fraser at his back. "That's not buddies, not even close."

"On the contrary, it's not buddies to think you can handle something of this magnitude on your own." Fraser stepped closer, his hand on Ray's arm. "I love you, Ray. I know it's terribly selfish on my part, but I want you alive and safe."

Ray turned and met the dark blue gaze. "You do, huh?"

"Most definitely."

"Never knew you to be selfish."

Fraser's voice choked. "But I am, very much so. I can't lose you, Ray."

Cupping his partner's cheek, Ray traced his jaw with his thumb. Ray wanted so much to kiss him as Fraser's breath warmed his skin. Instead, he released him and backed away, his hands shaking. "You won't."

"Then promise you won't try to leave without me."

Ray shrugged. "Sure. I promise."

Fraser studied him a few moments and then squeezed his forearm. "Go take your shower. I'll fix dinner."

"I'd like that."

Slipping the key into Ray's pocket, Fraser leaned in, brushing his lips against his partner's mouth briefly. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."

Ray swallowed hard and wondered if he'd ever be ready for what they both wanted.

Fraser opened the cabinets and scanned the meager supplies, wondering how one made a sound meal out of toothpicks, straws, and something called dried onion soup mix. The monitor system beeped and he headed to the front door. The front camera showed Lt. Welsh holding two paper bags as he waited for admittance.

Fraser punched in the security codes and opened the door. "Good to see you, Lieutenant."

"Constable." Welsh entered and headed back to the kitchen, his face grim. He put the bags on the table, but didn't remove his coat. "Where's Kowalski?"

"Ray's taking a shower."

"How's he holding up?"

"You know Ray. He doesn't like being inactive."

"I don't envy you your job here. Keeping him calm can't be easy, not when he's cooped up like this."

"There's no place I'd rather be, Lieutenant."

"You Canadians, always up for the challenge."

"It's not a problem to support worthy people, sir. Ray's a good man, an exceptional police officer, and more importantly, he's my friend."

"I'm not arguing. You've got a fine partnership. I'm not saying I always understand how two people so different can get along so well, but it seems to work for you two."

"Yes, it does."

Welsh nodded and then indicated one of the paper bags. "I brought some clothes. There's not much left in his apartment. Most of the stuff was slashed or shredded. I did manage to find a couple pairs of jeans that were pretty much unscathed, but I stopped off at the store for some T-shirts. Nothing fancy, just plain white. I threw in a sweat suit, too, along with some socks and underwear. Those guys really did a number on his place."

"Thank you kindly, sir. I'm sure Ray will appreciate it. Did the forensics team find anything useful during their search?"

"Nothing we can use, no prints or fibers." Welsh smiled slightly. "One guy did want to know if he lived with a pack of wild dogs."

"Oh, dear." They were silent for a moment before Fraser asked, "Did you by any chance get an opportunity to check on Diefenbaker?"

"He's fine, though Francesca's campaign to make him the official station mascot seems a bit redundant."

"Diefenbaker is rather more fond of the 27th than the Consulate. Seems the propensity for people to feed him doughnuts has won over being chastised by Inspector Thatcher for his sometimes unfortunate tendency towards flatulence."

Welsh nodded with a smile, but then his face turned more serious as he gestured toward the other bag. "I also brought you some supplies. We've got no idea how long you're going to be here. I've got some fresh coffee, plus some of those chocolate candies the detective seems to be so fond of."

Fraser glanced through the bag pulling out the groceries, pleased at the wide variety of both meats and vegetables along with some tea and sodas. "This is all very thoughtful, sir. The coffee that was here is long past it's expiration date."

"You're all settled in then?"

"We seem to be, yes, sir. Any news on the investigation?"

Welsh shrugged, glancing out toward the bathroom where the shower still ran. He nervously wiped his face with one hand as he considered the words carefully. "We've warned his ex-wife. She's got around the clock protection, a personal bodyguard and extra security while she's in court. His parents are on a plane to Arizona to stay with friends until we give them the word it's safe to return. Plus, I've doubled the teams outside this place. Everything's on a need to know basis only from now on. I just hope it's enough. We've gotten word from three reliable street sources that there's a contract out on Kowalski, but it's not a standard hit. It's a quarter of a million to deliver him to Clooney alive."

Mouth dry, Fraser leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed. "That's a substantial sum of money. Is there any indication where someone is supposed to deliver Ray if he is captured?"

"Not yet. I've got my best people hitting every source we know to find out."

Fraser hesitated, his voice lower. "What about Ray Vecchio's mob cover? With all this going on using Ray's real name, is the original Ray Vecchio safe?"

"The agent in charge of that investigation has assured me that things are unchanged on that front. As far as we know, Clooney's made no connection. It doesn't seem to faze him that Kowalski's living under another name. I don't think he really cares about any of that. He just wants the kid. We have, however, made everyone aware of the need to be vigilant if the situation should suddenly change. Of course, if and when Clooney is taken into custody, decisions about what to do about Kowalski's real identity will have to be made. Right now he's still under as Vecchio. We just don't know if he'll be able to remain under. If he has to testify, we'll either have to find a replacement, pull Vecchio, or come up with some cover story for Vecchio's absence here at the station." Welsh rubbed the back of his head, his features tired and solemn. "Right now that's the least of my worries."

"Has there been any headway on finding Clooney?"

"Unfortunately, no. We're still working. We'll continue to work until we get this guy." Welsh cleared his throat. "Kowalski's a good detective. I don't want to lose him. I appreciate the risk you're taking to stay with him."

"Like I said before, sir, it's no hardship. Ray's my partner."

Nodding, Welsh headed back to the door, his voice a whisper. "Let's just try keeping this thing about the contract between us for now. No reason to give him more worries if we don't have to."

"Understood."

"Who brought all the goodies?"

"Lt. Welsh."

Still damp from the shower, but wearing his old clothes, Ray sorted through the bag, bringing out new packages of underwear and socks. He laughed lightly. "Wonder how he knew I wore jockey briefs?"

"I assume he saw the slashed remains of the ones at your apartment."

Smile gone, Ray nodded soberly. "Yeah, I guess he did. So did he say if they found anything useful?"

"Nothing at this point, I'm afraid."

"And no news about Clooney?"

Fraser paused, the hesitation only a few seconds, but enough to spot. "He's still at large. Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot and, thanks to the lieutenant, you have some chocolate candy to add to make that special flavor you enjoy so much."

"Sure. Sounds good." Ray frowned as he followed Fraser into the kitchen. He sat down, opened the bag of socks, and slipped on a pair. As soon as Fraser served his coffee and handed him the box of candy, Ray took a deep breath. "So what is it that you're trying not to tell me?"

Fraser shook his head, his lips curled into an almost proud smile. "You have uncanny skills of observation, Ray."

"Big surprise there, Fraser. I'm a detective. So what's the deal? They have a line on where Clooney's holding up yet?"

"No, nothing like that. Lt. Welsh didn't want you to know that Clooney has offered a substantial amount of money to have you delivered to him alive."

"Substantial? How substantial?"

"A quarter of a million US dollars."

The amount floored him, chilled him at knowing how that upped the danger considerably. "Wow. I know a lot of people who'd turn me in for a lot less."

"Which I assume is why the lieutenant has doubled the guards outside."

"God, this stinks."

"The coffee?"

"The situation." Ray counted out seven chocolate candies and dropped them into his drink. Stirring, his mind whirling with possibility, he shook his head. "They should wire me up and then have some prick turn me over. Then they could take his ass down and this whole thing would be done."

"Such an option still sounds far too dangerous."

"Okay, okay, I get that. I couldn't really get past any security with a wire anyway. Clooney's men are too good for that." Ray drank a few sips and then put his mug down, his eyes brighter. "But I know a guy who could make Clooney believe he's got me. Then we could find the delivery point. That's all we'd need. We could have teams sweep in and nail his ass. Bam, bam, it's done. Clooney's back in a cell where he belongs instead of on the loose making my life miserable."

Fraser remained silent as he leaned back against the counter. He fingered his right eyebrow, his face grim with concentration.

"Well?"

"Well what, Ray?"

"What do you think?"

"For Lt. Welsh and Captain Turner to entertain such a suggestion, they'd need a lot more detail, including the name of the person you would use to contact Clooney. However, I must confess that the plan has more merit than anything else I've heard."

"So you're saying you agree with me?"

"I believe that's what I just said."

Ray stood up, his body singing with newfound energy. He grabbed Fraser by both arms and squeezed, happy with the possibility of action. "Let's call Welsh and Turner, see if they can get the ball rolling."

"No, Ray. First we're going to eat and then go to bed. It's been a very long day. You can tell the Lieutenant your plan in the morning."

Backing away, a new frown on his face, Ray shook his head. "You're kidding, right? There's no way I'm going to sleep until this is set up."

"Then I suggest a compromise. We'll eat first. You can write out your idea in more detail. Then you can call both the Lieutenant and the Captain to see if they agree with your assessment of the situation."

Grudgingly, Ray agreed. "I guess you're right. I do need to make sure I've got it straight in my head so they can't shoot me down." Ray faced Fraser and shrugged. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get so wound up."

"Your passion is one of your most admirable traits."

Ray tilted his head and grinned. "Passion? You think me getting wired for a case is passion?"

Flushing slightly, Fraser glanced away. "Certainly."

Ray cupped Fraser's face and brought his head up, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For reminding me there are other things to get worked up about. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to care about someone so much. Feels good."

Capturing Ray's hand, Fraser nodded. "I also find myself getting worked up."

"Really? About me?"

Fraser closed his eyes, sighing as he continued to hold Ray's hand to his face. "I find myself quite enamored with your energy. I love how strong you are."

"Strong? Me? Come on, Fraser, be serious."

As Ray tried to pull away, Fraser wrapped his arms around his waist and held him face to face. "I am serious. You're one of the strongest people I know."

"You're unhinged."

"Ray, you don't see yourself, not the you I see."

"That's because I might need glasses, but I see what I am. I'm just a guy, a guy with a lot of problems. And you're the strong one, not me." Uneasy, Ray once again moved away only to have Fraser hold even tighter. "Fraser. Let me go. I need some space here."

Reluctantly, Fraser released him. "You're wrong, Ray. Your strength, your passion, your intelligence, well, quite frankly, you enthrall me."

"Enthrall?"

"Captivate, mesmerize, beguile. I can't seem to get enough of you."

Ray's lips curled. "Enthrall, huh? I like that." He teased a finger down Fraser's jaw line. "You enthrall the hell out of me, too."

Moving in closer, Fraser's eyes darkened. "I love you, Ray."

"I know, Frase. Me, too."

Much to Ray's surprise, Fraser sighed and dropped his head to Ray's shoulder. Arms wrapped around Ray's middle as Fraser spoke softly. "This is so difficult."

Ray rubbed a hand up and down his partner's back, unsure of what to do with a depressed Fraser. "It'll be okay. We'll get this asshole and then I can get back to work. It'll be good again. I promise."

Without thinking, Ray lifted Fraser's face to his own and kissed him, the lips soft but with a rough edge of whiskers. His tongue tasted the herbal tea, the slight hint of milk as he explored for just a moment. His cock surged to attention, the quick electrical spark up his spine going wild. Fraser's low moan brought him back to his senses quickly. Throat closing, he pushed away and rushed out of the kitchen.

Fraser came into the room behind him, puzzled. "Ray?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Don't be sorry. I enjoyed it."

"I did, too, but that's not the point. We can't do that. Not yet. I'm not ready."

"I see." Hurt and disappointment laced the hushed words.

"No, you don't see, because I don't. Look, I just think we have to wait until this whole Clooney mess is sorted out. Then maybe we can figure out what this is all about."

"It's about love, Ray. When two people love one another, it's only natural to kiss and want physical affection."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I get that. It's natural, but it ain't going to happen, not yet. I can't. I told you that."

Fraser hesitated, his protest simple. "You kissed me, Ray."

Frantic, Ray paced back and forth, his words speeding up. "I know that. I know that. I really do know that, Fraser. You don't have to tell me." He ran his hand through his hair as he looked all over the room, anywhere but at Fraser. "It's not your fault."

"Fault?"

"It's not your fault that I can't help myself. I shouldn't have done that. I just really shouldn't have done that. It's not fair to you. Puts you in a really lousy position and I'm not a cocktease, Fraser. I hate people who do that. I wouldn't do that, not normally, but I'm not thinking straight. I'm so fucked."

"Calm down, Ray. It's not a problem."

"Not a problem? How can it not be a problem? It's a problem for me. I can't keep my hands off you and I know it's not right. I know it's not fair when all I want to do is take you to bed and kiss you and make you come until you scream my name over and over. But I can't. I just can't. And I can't explain why, either. Not yet. Don't ask me to."

"I won't ask for an explanation, and as I said before, I'm more than willing to wait until you're ready."

Still uneasy, Ray swallowed back his panic. "I'm so sorry, Fraser. You deserve better."

"Now you're just being silly."

The sudden change to Fraser's matter of fact tone caught him off guard. Ray laughed and then sagged down on the sofa, exhausted. "Yeah, well, I'll remind you of that later when I've made your life hell."

Fraser settled beside him, his voice husky and raw. "The only hell I can imagine, Ray, is a world without you in it."

"Assholes. Stubborn federal sons of bitches." Ray slammed his fist into the safe house wall, the plaster crumbling away and leaving a gaping hole. He held his scraped hand up to his mouth, kissing and licking away the pain, but relishing it, too. It focused his anger, made it easier not to put his head through the wall instead.

"Calm down, Ray."

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down, Fraser. Just don't."

"They didn't say they wouldn't try your plan later."

"Yeah, but only when they've tried everything else. And Turner, what the hell was he doing? He might as well stab me in the back. Two-faced bastard. Shit." He turned to hit the wall again only to have Fraser block his punch, capturing his fist with both hands. Ray growled in frustration. "Get out of the way."

"That's enough, Ray. Hurting yourself doesn't help."

Jerking away, Ray frantically paced the room, his head about to explode. "I can't fucking believe this. They won't even listen."

"They listened. They gave you legitimate reasons why they thought the plan unsound at this juncture."

Ray paused, suddenly suspicious. "You telling me you agree with those jerks?"

"I'm saying neither of us are completely unbiased in this situation. You want to trust this informant of yours, Gary "Sneaks" Baker, but as Captain Turner pointed out, this Baker fellow hasn't always been reliable in the past. To put your safety in his hands might, indeed, be far too perilous. Captain Turner said Baker can't be trusted when there's a quarter involved much less a quarter of million dollars. I'm afraid I have to agree with that assessment based on the information we have."

"Turner's a pussy, Fraser. Ever since Clooney killed Ricky, he's been walking on eggshells, thinking I'm going to fucking crack. He keeps this shit up and I just might. He thinks I don't know how bad Clooney can get, but he's wrong, dead wrong. I know better than anybody how psycho this guy is."

"That's all the more reason to make every move with even more caution."

Ray paid no attention, just kept pacing and talking, his words moving too fast. "But Clooney's not as smart as he thinks he is. He's got weak points, plenty of soft spots to go after. We need to make a play now. If we wait around, more people are going to die. I can feel it." Ray stopped moving, his voice cracking. "I don't want any more blood on my hands, Fraser."

"You're not responsible for Clooney's menace, Ray. Why would you think that?"

Ray swallowed hard, then slumped down on the sofa. "I could've killed him a couple of times while I was under and each time I didn't, I thought, stupid, stupid, stupid. Then when he found out who I was, it was too late. He shot Ricky and then beat the shit out of me. He had every intention of killing me, too, but he waited too long. The team showed up and got me out before he had a chance to finish it."

Ray closed his eyes, the strain of memory almost too much. "I've dreamed about killing him, Fraser, of killing him with my bare hands. Dreamed about it and it always felt so fucking good, too good. It scared me how good it felt."

Fraser settled on the sofa beside him, the cushion shifting under his weight. A soft touch to Ray's shoulder made him flinch. "He hurt you badly, Ray. It's only natural to be angry."

"You don't understand, Fraser. I've never hated anybody that much, not ever. It's eating me alive this hate, like it's alive and breathing, like it's curled up inside me, all cold and full of teeth." Eyes still squeezed shut, Ray leaned forward and rubbed his face, the tears streaming down. "He's in my head all the time and I feel so fucking dirty, unclean, like no matter how hard I scrub, it'll never come off."

"What won't come off, Ray?"

"Him. His fists, his stink. What he did." Suddenly gagging, Ray covered his mouth. He tried to get up and run to the bathroom, but only managed to drop to his knees. He retched over and over, his stomach straining as he gasped for air between spasms. Belly empty, he still dry heaved several times before he finally finished.

Fraser handed Ray a damp cloth, his back braced against the bottom of sofa, knees up. Light-headed, his throat aching, he wiped his mouth, grateful for the cold relief. Ray watched, limp and helpless, as Fraser cleaned up the mess. After a few moments, Fraser guided him off the floor to sit on the sofa and a fresh cloth replaced the old one. Fraser handed him a glass of ginger ale. "This might help."

Ray sipped slowly, the new taste overlaying the foulness of the vomit. He drank half before he stopped. "Thanks. Sorry. Must have been something I ate." The words sounded unconvincing even to himself.

Fraser didn't call him a liar, just took the glass out of his trembling hand and put it on the table. "You need to rest, Ray. You're exhausted."

Nodding, Ray didn't move. He stared bleakly down at his shoes, dizzy and defeated. "I know. It's just, well, sleeping ain't much better. At least when I'm awake, I know what's real."

"Perhaps I could tell you a story."

A reluctant smile tugged at Ray's lip. "Jeez, Fraser, you think I need a bedtime story?"

"Well, you could try counting caribou."

"Caribou?"

"There aren't many sheep in the Yukon, Ray."

Ray sighed and let Fraser pull him up from the sofa to lead him to the bedroom. Then he frowned in frustration. "What's a caribou look like exactly, Fraser?"

"Beautiful, Ray. They're on average..."

Ray didn't bother to listen to the details, but just swam in the comfort of the warm voice, the voice that made him feel halfway safe again.

"I never thought I'd be happy to go see a shrink, but if it gets me out of that box, hey, I'm there."

"Actually, we're here, Ray." Fraser motioned to the Human Resources building.

The driver pulled over and both Fraser and Ray got out at the front door along with their FBI escort, Agent Davis. Davis hustled them both into the building and then walked behind them without talking as they got into the empty elevator.

Ray kept his back to Davis and talked to Fraser, his voice tense. "I miss Dief."

"I'm sure he misses you, too, Ray. Francesca even mentioned how he keeps sitting at your desk looking rather forlorn."

"Clever wolf. Bet he gets more doughnuts than he can handle with that routine."

"Oh, I doubt it's a ruse. Dief might be rather devious, but he is genuinely fond of you, and while I tried to explain the impracticality of having a white wolf at a clandestine location in urban Chicago, he's still pouting about not being included in our seclusion."

"Stubborn wolf."

"Yes, he is."

Reaching the third floor, Ray and Fraser waited while Davis got off first, called down an all clear on his headset, and then waved them to come out. Davis stationed himself at the outside door, and they went into Reese's waiting room. Ray glanced around at the empty chairs, seats that were normally filled. Something wasn't right. "What? There a holiday for nut jobs or something?"

The receptionist looked up. "Good morning, Detective Vecchio. The doctor said the FBI told him to cancel his other appointments this morning until after you'd left the building. Something about special security."

"Special security?"

"Yes, sir. He said to go right in."

Frowning, not happy with the change of routine, Ray turned to Fraser. "Something's queer. Go out and check with Davis about this. Have him call that lead guy, Crenshaw, and see what's up."

"Certainly, Ray. I'll be right back."

As soon as he left, Ray turned and walked through to Reese's inner office. Reese looked up, his face pale, his troubled eyes focused on the wall behind him.

Before he could turn around, a gun leveled at the back of Ray's head, the muzzle cold and hard. A familiar voice hissed in his ear. "Try anything and the Mountie's the first to go."

Ray's heart skipped a beat, but his mind raced with possible means of escape. He couldn't think of a damn thing, so he tried stalling. "Fuck, Jenson, I thought Eddie Sweet shot you in the head last month."

"Shut the fuck up and put your hands behind your back."

Cold metal cuffs bit into his wrists and then a rough hand pushed him towards the exit door at the back of the office. Before he could say anything, he saw the gun go up and the kidnapper knock out Reese. As the doctor slumped sideways and fell out of the chair, Jenson snarled. "Let's go. Out and down the stairs. Hurry."

Jenson moved ahead of him and dragged him along. At the end of the first flight, another man came into view. Each man took an arm and led him down further. They stopped on a landing just long enough to jab a needle in his neck. "Shit, Jenson, that hurts. What the fuck is that?"

"Insurance."

Frank and the stranger pushed him along again, his legs suddenly wobbly, his head spinning. As sight narrowed, he saw the gurney at the bottom of the steps and the men in white standing by to transport him to wherever Clooney was waiting to finish off what he'd started.

Ray didn't bother to cry out, just swam in the dark, his body numb, grateful that at least Fraser would live.

Someone grabbed Ray's hair, lifting his head from the concrete and slapping his face several times. Blood flooded his mouth, his teeth cutting his lips. He coughed and opened his eyes. "Asshole."

"Ah, the bitch is back." Vision blurry, Ray blinked several times to focus and wished he hadn't. Mike Clooney stared down into his face and grinned. "Miss me, Ray?"

Ice flooded his gut as he tried to sit up, but he found his arms and legs just didn't want to cooperate. His head floated away from his body, just light and airy. A foot landed on his chest and held the rest of him down. Ray ran a sluggish tongue along the inside of his swollen bottom lip, his throat dry and his mouth like cotton. Whatever they gave him lingered in his system. Even the rush of adrenaline flooding his veins couldn't get his brain to clear. Everything blurred in and out of focus as sounds wobbled and scratched in his ear. He tried his best not to throw up, not to give Clooney the satisfaction of seeing him lose it. Another slap got his attention and he spat out more blood. "Nothing changes with you, Clooney. Still a sweet guy 'til the end."

"Such a smart mouth you have, Detective."

The booted foot kicked him in the side and Ray rolled away, but not fast enough to avoid the second blow to his back. Clooney snatched him up roughly, lifting and then throwing him on a narrow bed in the corner. He lay there, winded, the pain not as bad as it probably should be. "What'd you give me?"

"You like it?"

"Well, I figure I'll hurt a lot worse when it wears off."

"If you're lucky, it won't ever wear off." Clooney stepped closer and rolled him on his back. "I've missed you, Ray, our little talks, face to face." He patted his bruised cheek. "You've lost weight. That Mountie friend of yours not feeding you right?"

Ray closed his eyes, willed himself not to rise to the bait. "What the fuck do you want, Clooney?"

"What I've always wanted, Ray. Payback."

"You've got the FBI and the whole Chicago police force looking for your ass and you take the time to pull this shit and waste all that money? You used to be so fucking smart. Now you're just pathetic."

The expected blow didn't come. Ray opened his eyes and focused as well as he could on the man standing next to the bed. Dark hair framed a square face. Broad shoulders, thick neck, and overdone muscles made him look more like a dimwitted dockworker than a desk-riding mobster. Brown eyes studied him and then without warning, Clooney grabbed his T-shirt and yanked him upright, posing him on the side of the bed. Then he backed away and sat in the chair only a few feet away. Ray's guns and his leather jacket rested on the table next to him. Clooney spoke, his voice strained as he picked up a knife. He ran his fingers along the sharp six-inch blade, his thumb teasing the tip. "Tell me about the Mountie."

Dizzy, Ray steadied himself. Clooney looked nuttier than usual, more stretched out, more like a big white bear on bad speed. For a moment, a flicker of the animal transposed itself over the man and Ray swallowed hard, trying his best to stay conscious. Whatever they gave him made him dopey, too dopey to think straight or even sit up for long. His fat tongue didn't want to work right. He struggled to make the words come out. "You should be trying to get away, you son of a bitch."

"The Mountie, what's his name, Fraser? Tell me what he is to you."

"He's my partner."

"Like Ricky."

"Not like Ricky. He can be trusted."

"You used to trust Ricky."

"Until he sold his ass to you, yeah." Ray paused, took several breaths to ride out the dizziness. "Fraser's not like that."

"He sure is pretty like Ricky. Not my type, but a damn fine piece of ass. He any good in bed?"

"Fuck you."

Clooney chuckled as he leaned forward, the knife still in his right hand. "Always the lip with you, Ray. Always. I'll say one thing, you've got balls. And I should know."

"You don't know shit."

"I know you're wondering why I went to all the trouble to get your ass again. I know you're wondering whether I'm going to do you the way I did before or just fuck you and shoot you in the head like I did the poor FBI fuck."

"You're a mad dog, Clooney, a twisted fuck who needs a bullet to the head to put you out of your own damn misery."

Clooney's face paled and his voice grew even colder as he continued his story. "Billy, the FBI guy, he looked a lot like you. Did you know that? Did they tell you that?" He didn't wait for an answer, just kept talking and fingering the edge of the blade. "Blond, lean, with blue eyes to die for. Problem was, he wasn't you. Didn't have the guts you do."

Clooney paused and leaned forward, staring directly at Ray. "He begged me not to kill him. Offered to blow me, to let me fuck him. He didn't even fight it. He just spent the whole time bawling like a fucking baby. I shot him in the head to save him the embarrassment of living."

"That make you feel powerful, make you feel like a real man to humiliate him like that, you sick fuck?"

"Actually, it made me want you even more. Made me appreciate just how brave you are. You never once begged, never once gave in. Sure, I fucked you, but I never really had you, not where it counted."

"And you never fucking will."

Clooney stood up and stepped closer, his voice like sharp steel. He held the knife to Ray's throat. "That's where you're wrong, bitch. You think you're going to die today, but you're not, not yet."

Ray hissed as the knife bit into his skin, his world narrowing, the light almost grey. He tried to pull back, but a beefy hand yanked his hair, held him up and more steady. "Oh, I'm going to fuck you, Ray, but you won't die yet, not until I'm tired of your lip and your beautiful ass. And that could take a while. I've been looking forward to this for a long time."

Clooney dropped the knife to the side table and then released Ray's hair. He cupped his face with both hands, swooping in and licking the blood from Ray's lips. He slowly ran his tongue along his wounded neck, and then captured his mouth again. The violent kiss stole Ray's breath away, his body limp and useless, his mind drifting off into a cold, dark field of nothing.

The world shifted and swayed and then suddenly settled.

Snow crusted and crunched under his feet. Confused, Ray squinted at the white brilliance as he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket for his sunglasses. He slipped them on and then gazed at the wide open spaces in wonder. The distant tree line made him yearn to keep moving, to explore, to find that cabin again and maybe even see Fraser.

"You've got good taste for a Yank."

Ray turned and saw the old man, the one with the funny hat who reminded him of Fraser. "Where are we?"

"It's the Borderland. Benton was here once."

"Fraser was here?"

"Some time ago, yes. You called him back to your side." The old man motioned at the expanse in front of them, the mountains in the distance, the wilderness so close at hand. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful. Canada like this?"

"Better."

Ray stuffed his hands down in his pockets and relished how the sun warmed his cheek just after the icy wind kissed it. His body sang with energy, with a rush of goodness and spirit, of real life. Pain didn't touch him here. "I don't know how it could be better."

"Oh, believe me, Son, it most certainly is." The man turned and put his hand on Ray's shoulder. "But you have to decide to go back first to find out."

"Back?"

"You're at a crossroads, a difficult place to be for any man. Think carefully before you decide to leave Benton behind. He won't understand. The lad's lost so many important people in his life, one more might put him over the edge. Even a fine man like my son has limits."

"Your son?"

"You've got a sound mind for a Yank. I assumed you'd figured that out by now."

"But you're dead."

"Obviously."

The cold truth sank in. "So I'm dead, too?"

"Not yet. That's why we're in the Borderland. It gives the living a chance to know what they're in for, like coming attractions. What do you think?"

"I think I'm unhinged."

Fraser Senior's voice softened. "It's disorienting at first. None of us likes to think the rational world isn't what we thought it was. But there you are, ghosts and spirits, well, we're not just some fairytales by firelight. We exist. Nothing to do about it, but accept that sometimes we allow you to be privy to our secrets and our world, a world you'll be a part of if you don't choose to go back soon. You've been here almost too long already."

Ray slumped down on a nearby stump, a stump he could've sworn wasn't there before. "So you're saying dying's like going to Canada?"

"If you're lucky."

Ray smiled, thinking of how much Fraser would like that. Then he choked, the air suddenly thinner. "But it hurts to keep breathing."

"Yes, and you're in a bad way, there's no debating that. Lesser men have given up with a lot less reason than you have. And I won't lie, Son, if you go back, it won't be easy. Still, there's nothing for it if you want to share your life with Benton."

"But what if he can't find me?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention that? He's on his way now, just outside the door, in fact."

"Then why am I here?"

"Excellent question."

"Fraser?"

"Fuck Fraser." Another blow dropped Ray to his knees and he rolled to his side, curled up, the cushion of good feeling from the dream quickly drained away. Another cut from the knife sliced across his belly. "Did you fuck him? Did you let him fuck you?"

"Fuck you, scumbag."

Clooney seized his arm and jerked him up, twisting his left wrist behind his back. The snap of bone made him nauseous, the pain delayed, but not completely absent. The grip slipped, blood slicking Ray's skin. Clooney grabbed him even harder and shook. "Answer me, bitch."

Before he could say a thing, he heard shouting and the shattering of wood right before the call of the FBI. Clooney threw him down and desperately reached for the gun on the table. The spray of bullets cut him down, his body falling with a thump and one last curse.

Ray lay there, naked, not moving, not daring to hope.

Hands cupped his cheeks, Fraser's anxious face close to his. "Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray..."

Relief overwhelmed him, his tongue only able to manage the one word. "Fraser."

His world slanted suddenly sideways as someone pulled his partner away. Ray screamed as someone touched his injured left arm, air suddenly straining his lungs as pain returned full force all over his body. Icy cold, he shook uncontrollably as men examined him, wiping away the blood and starting an IV line in his right arm. One man braced his broken arm and the other took vitals. As they covered him with a blanket and strapped him down, Fraser's voice just touched the edge of his hearing. "Ray, you're going to be fine."

Closing his eyes, he drifted but didn't return to the Borderland. Instead, he rode out the pain, knew that at the end of that crushing wave, he'd have Fraser.

It hurt to talk, but he complained anyway. "Looks like I want to dance like an Egyptian or something. Why can't I just have a simple cast like everybody else? Why is that, Fraser? Why do I have to be the one who gets to looks like a freak?"

Fraser just smiled patiently and ran a slow hand along the Z-shaped cast suspended from the side of the hospital bed. "Your ulna and radius were fractured in three places, Ray. A smaller cast would have been inadequate to keep the bones immobile while they heal properly. It also helps assure the eventual full utility of your thumb once the cast is removed. Dr. Raines explained all that, but he also said that at the end of three weeks, you'd graduate to a smaller, more versatile plaster."

"Three weeks, Fraser. Three weeks I have to wear this thing. I can't even lift it."

Fraser didn't answer, just kept grinning and watching Ray.

"Stop that."

"Stop what, Ray?"

"Looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like Dief looking at a bag of unguarded doughnuts."

Fraser smiled even bigger. "I'm just so glad you're doing so well." Fraser leaned against the rail of Ray's bed, his face suddenly much more serious. "When you were first taken, I didn't know quite what to do. Everything happened so fast." His voice choked. "I don't think I've ever been so frightened, Ray."

Ray wanted to take him in his arms, touch his face, but between the monster cast and the IVs, he didn't have a chance. "I was scared, too, Fraser."

"You haven't really talked about it."

Ray shook his head, his body tense at the memory. "Not now, okay?" He took a deep breath as he frowned. "I thought I heard Mum and Dad earlier."

Fraser stiffened. "Yes, you did."

"What happened?"

"I'm afraid I might have overstepped some boundaries."

Ray shifted his head on his pillow to get a better view of Fraser. "Boundaries, you? I doubt that. What'd my dad do this time?"

"I know he's your father, Ray. I respect that, but that man, well, he said some things, some very unkind things. Under normal circumstances I'm able to deal with such derogatory comments, but I've been under a great deal of stress lately. That's no excuse, just an explanation."

"Jesus, Fraser. What the hell did he say?"

Walking to the other side of the bed, Fraser moved to Ray's good side and took his right hand, careful not to interfere with the IV site. He gave it a gentle squeeze while he talked softly. "You were sleeping and I was holding your hand. I must confess I was also petting your hair."

"Petting my hair?"

"Yes. I find it very soothing to pet your hair, Ray. I hope you don't mind."

"Don't mind, not a bit. You can even do it while I'm awake next time if you want."

"Why thank you kindly, Ray."

"No problem. So you were petting my hair and..."

"And your father and mother walked in unannounced."

"Oh."

"Oh, is correct. Your mother seems a very nice lady, by the way."

"Yeah, she is, but Dad, well, he can be an asshole. If he didn't talk to me for eight years because I became a cop, I didn't really expect him to like me being queer. I just didn't expect him to pick up on it so fast."

"He probably wouldn't have if I'd been more discreet."

"It's not like we were making out, Fraser. Besides, at this point, it's his problem." Ray sighed. "So Mum seemed okay with it?"

"She's just happy you're alive, Ray."

"Yeah, me, too."

Fraser stroked his arm, the touches warm and comforting. "You seem very relaxed, Ray."

"Pain meds. Good stuff, better than last time."

"Ah, the drugs. Still, you seem calmer than I would expect after such an ordeal."

"Like the head case I was before he snatched me?"

"I didn't mean that. I just meant that you seem rather more accepting of circumstance than you did."

"It helps that the motherfucker's dead and gone this time." Fraser didn't even bother to correct his language. "It also helps that I don't remember most of what happened."

"So you said."

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you, Ray. Selective memory loss can often be induced by severe trauma or injury."

Ray ran his tongue along the inside stitches holding his bottom lip together, debating whether to talk about the Borderland and his time there. "It's more than that."

"How so?"

"Remember when you licked the toad and everybody thought you were dead?"

"Yes."

"Did you go to some place called the Borderland?"

Fraser stilled, his face suddenly pale. "Ray, are you saying you saw the Borderland?"

"I'm saying that dying wasn't anything like I thought it'd be, not nearly as scary. In fact, if it weren't for you, your dad and me might still be having a nice long chat. He's a funny guy, your old man. I like him. Wish he were still around. Bet he could tell a story or two, huh?"

"Dear God."

"Seriously, Fraser. It wasn't that bad."

"Ray, it means you almost died."

"Well, you already knew that."

Fraser palmed Ray's forehead and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For not being more alert. I should've stopped this. I should've seen the trap as soon as we walked into Dr. Reese's office."

Ray's voice toughened. "And if you had, you'd probably be dead, no return ticket. Jenson would've shot you in the head without thinking twice." Capturing Fraser's hand, Ray pulled his troubled partner closer. "Whatever Clooney did to me, it's over. It stops now. I don't want to talk about it or think about it. It's just done. I'm going to heal up for a few weeks and then we're taking some time off. We're going up to your neck of the woods. I want to see it for real, Fraser, not some dream, not some whatever it was fantasy thing, but for real. Can we just do that? Can you make sure that we can do that, just the two of us, alone, so we can work this thing out?"

"Yes, Ray, we can most definitely do that."

"Fraser, you need to go back to work. You're driving me crazy."

"I fail to see how my being attentive to your needs can be so stressful."

Ray shifted up in his bed a few inches, frustrated and achy. The stitches all itched and his head wouldn't stop throbbing even with the drugs they pumped into his system. "I'm not an invalid. I don't need tending every minute. Besides, there are nurses for that. You've got plans to make, things to do, all kinds of paperwork to clear up if we're going to head up North when I get out of here."

"Nurses have a lot of patients, Ray. I only have you."

"It's their job and yours is over at the Consulate being a Mountie. I'm better now, so you don't have to be here all the time."

Fraser's lips thinned. "I've seen the way you look at Nurse Raymer."

"That the blond with the great smile?"

"You know very well who she is, and I'm hard pressed to believe it's her smile you admire when you drool all over yourself every time she waltzes in here."

Ray tilted his head and cried ouch when he tried grinning. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous. I just find your behavior ludicrous."

"My behavior? What about yours? You won't even let me get up to go to the can by myself."

Fraser took a long calming breath. "Ray, you've been told repeatedly you cannot get up without assistance. I would think you'd prefer my aid to Nurse Raymer's, unless, of course, there's something else Ms. Raymer can offer that I can't. Her attributes are quite impressive."

"God, I don't believe this. You're really jealous of Raymer."

"She's a lovely young lady, Ray. It hasn't escaped my attention that she looks very much like a young Stella."

Ray stopped smiling. "Really?"

"Ray, you know she does."

Ray shook his head in surprise. "Why didn't I see that?"

"I think we were just discussing the fact that you did see that, Ray, several times a day."

"No, Fraser, I didn't, I really didn't. I didn't even make that connection. I must be losing it." Ray looked up and met Fraser's solemn gaze. "I was just kidding you about Raymer, honest. I've only got eyes for you, Frase. You've got to know that, right?"

"She is a beautiful woman. No one would blame you for finding her attractive."

"What'd I just say? It's you, Fraser, the one and only. Now get over here."

Fraser moved to the right side of the bed and Ray took his hand. "You don't need to be jealous, ever. I'm a faithful guy. Ask anybody. Ask Stella if you have to."

Shaking his head, Fraser lifted Ray's hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry. I was being irrational."

"Working at it, but not quite there. Maybe I was drooling a little, but it's really these stitches. They hurt like hell."

"Would you like some more analgesic gel or warm salt water to rinse your mouth?"

"Later." Ray sighed. "Look, what I was saying earlier, I meant it. It's not that I don't love you and love you being here, but it's still driving me nuts, you always being here."

"That makes no sense, Ray."

"I hate you seeing me like this, all banged up and looking like Frankenstein."

Fraser's expression softened as he squeezed Ray's hand. "You mean Frankenstein's monster. Frankenstein was the physician who..."

"Fraser, Fraser, hear what I'm saying. I feel like shit even with all the drugs they're pumping into me and I don't like having you wait on me hand and foot like I can't do anything for myself."

"Understood. Independence is something we all strive for, but, Ray, be reasonable. You've been seriously injured. There's nothing wrong with me helping during your convalescence until you're more able to be self-sufficient."

"I know that, I do. It still makes me uncomfortable. I want to do things on my own."

"And you will, when you're ready."

"And who says when I'm ready, you?"

"And the doctors."

"Like they know."

"Yes, Ray, they do. They go to school for many years to know just that." Fraser paused as he leaned against the railing, still holding Ray's hand. "Believe me, I understand your frustration. I can remember quite clearly how difficult it was to accept limitations after being shot."

"You mean when Vecchio shot you in the back that one time?"

"Yes. In addition, I have to admit feeling quite angry with Ray. It wasn't his fault, but somehow my emotions didn't listen to the rational mind about it. I resented not only being shot, but losing Victoria."

Ray swallowed hard, uncomfortable with knowing that Fraser still cared for a woman who'd hurt him so much. "You never talk about her."

"No. It's too painful."

"I get that, but you know that you can tell me if you ever feel up to it. I'm all ears if you need me."

"I feel the same way. If and when you ever want to talk about what happened to you, I'm full of ears, too."

"It's not the same. You loved Victoria. I sure as hell didn't love the guy who hurt me."

"But they both affected us deeply, Ray. We can't discount the emotional impact of how they treated us."

Ray pulled his hand away and shifted slightly to his side, turning his head away from Fraser. "I'm not saying that, I'm not. I know they both treated us like shit. That's not a newsflash. I'm just saying I don't need to talk about it anymore, to anyone, but if you do, I'd be good about it."

Fraser's hand massaged Ray's right shoulder, working the tight muscles, careful to avoid the bandaged gashes. "I appreciate that, Ray. I'll take it under consideration."

"Yeah, okay, and in the meantime, keep doing that. Feels good."

"As you wish."

After a few minutes, his body more relaxed, Ray found his voice again. "I'm sorry, Frase. I didn't mean to get all pissy."

"It's perfectly understandable."

"Maybe, but it's not right. Just ‘cause I feel like shit, that doesn't mean I have to take it out on you. That's why you should think about spending some time away. Not every minute. I still want you here, but I just need to know you're getting things together so we can get out of town as soon as they let me out of this joint."

"You mean in a few weeks after they release you."

"No, I mean as soon as they release me. I want to get packed and head North, pronto."

Fraser stilled and walked around to the other side of the bed, the side with the heavy, awkward cast that covered the arm up past the elbow. "Ray, we can't go right away. We need to wait at least until you get the smaller cast." He tapped the plaster. "I mean, just look at it. It looks like an albino pterodactyl for goodness sakes. I'm not even sure how you're going to manage around the apartment for the next few weeks."

"Albino pterodactyl?"

"Yes, in a rather modern impressionistic way."

"So you're saying I'm stuck in Chicago until this thing comes off?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. After that, if there are no complications, then I see no reason why we can't head North, pronto."

"It's not pronto if we have to wait, Fraser."

"And it's not prudent if we leave sooner." Fraser leaned in closer and cupped Ray's face. "Be patient, Ray."

"I'm no good at waiting."

"This will be worth it."

Ray met his eyes, wishing like hell he could move without tearing out a dozen stitches. "Yeah?"

"Most definitely. Just the two of us. It'll be wonderful, Ray, well worth the waiting."

Ray didn't say anything, just closed his eyes and drifted with the warmth of Fraser's light touch to anchor him one more time while he dreamed of Canada and freedom.

Ray tossed the SPORTS ILLUSTRATED on the bed and banged his head back into the pillow in absolute frustration. "I'm bored out of my skull here."

Sitting at the chair by the window, Fraser turned, his face full of sympathy. "Perhaps a game of chess would help."

"Can't concentrate."

"Poker?"

"Nope."

"Would you like me to turn on the TV and see if there are any sporting events of interest?"

"Can't wear my glasses and I can't see the thing without them. Can't focus anyway. These drugs make me all goofy."

"I could read to you."

Ray sighed and looked over at his partner. "I'm not a kid. I don't need someone reading me a story."

"It's not about being a child, Ray. I remember whenever I got sick, my grandmother would read me something quite informative or educational."

"When you were a kid, right?"

"Ah, I see your point. Still, it doesn't change the fact that it can be very relaxing."

"What I'd really like to do is see the reports on the case." Ray turned his head, meeting Fraser's worried gaze. "What?"

"The doctor said no working."

"It's not working to just read a file."

"I thought you said you didn't want to think about the case again."

"Changed my mind. I want to read the file."

"The file is off limits until you're released. Lt. Welsh agreed with me."

"You and Welsh got together behind my back?"

"We didn't do it behind your back, Ray. We talked about it and decided while you were sleeping."

"Behind my back."

"You were indisposed."

"Behind my back. Admit it."

Fraser stood up and walked to the bedside. "All right, but it wasn't to be conniving or otherwise deceptive. We just both feel you need to wait until you're stronger before you read all the details, especially since you yourself said you don't remember most of what happened before you were rescued."

Anger pushed the words. "You and Welsh think I can't handle it, is that it? You think I'm too much of a nutcase to deal with what happened?"

Fraser shook his head in denial. "Nothing like that. If you want the file, I'll get it for you. I just think you should be prepared before reading all the explicit details."

"I can look in the mirror and see all the explicit details. I can see the broken nose, the black eyes, the stitches. You think I don't see those? That's not even including all the rest of me that looks like someone's bad idea of a crazy quilt. I know what he did, Fraser. I just thought maybe seeing it in a police report might make it a little easier, might give it some, I don't know, obsomething or other."

"You mean give it some objectivity?"

"Yeah, that's it, objectwhatever."

"Understood. I'll talk to Welsh about getting it first thing tomorrow."

"Not tonight?"

"No, Ray, not tonight."

"I'm still bored then." The words came out tired, but still petulant.

Fraser leaned in and hummed softly. Ray lifted his eyebrows and smiled. "Sounds pretty. What is that?"

"It's an Inuit love song."

"Yeah? A love song, huh?" Settling down under the blanket the best he could, Ray closed his eyes. "Keep going."

As his partner continued, Ray imagined gently holding Fraser in two good arms, completely healed and dancing together forever.

After inquiries about Ray's health from both Francesca and Dewey, Fraser made it to Lt. Welsh's office with Dief at his heels. Dr. Reese sat on the sofa reading through Ray's file, his face grim. He rubbed the bandage on his right temple as he looked up.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Welsh, Dr. Reese."

Dr. Reese answered first. "Good morning. How's your partner?"

"Ray seems to be improving. The doctors have agreed he might be able to go home tomorrow as long as he doesn't get a fever and he can tolerate the oral antibiotics and the pain medications. I plan to stay with him while he recuperates."

Lt. Welsh nodded. "Good to hear."

"And what about his mental state, Constable?"

Fraser hesitated, uneasy with the question. "I'm not an expert."

Dr. Reese pressed the issue. "You know the man better than anyone. I just want your opinion before I go see him."

Fraser frowned. "Please don't take this personally, Doctor, but Ray's not inclined to see you. He's refused any counseling, either from the hospital staff or you."

"He mentioned me, specifically?"

"I'm afraid he did, sir, yes."

Welsh sat back, not pleased. "He might not have a choice. There's no way the brass is going to let him return to duty without a full psych review, not after something as bad as this."

Fraser held his hat in his hands and fingered the brim nervously. "Perhaps this isn't the juncture to deal with that aspect of his recovery. After he's had time to heal physically and we return from Canada, he might be more open to the possibility that he needs not only evaluation, but counseling as well."

"Canada?" Welsh studied him a brief moment and then nodded with a small grin of approval. "Your idea or his?"

"His actually. I had to convince him to wait a few weeks until his stamina returns, but he really wants to get away from Chicago. I have to agree that a change of locale might very well help him get a better perspective on what's happened."

Welsh rubbed the back of his head in frustration. "Does he even remember what happened?"

"He says he remembers very little."

Reese nodded and stood up. "And that's what bothers me. He never dealt with the first assault, not entirely." Reese lifted the report in his hand. "And now this. Now he blocks out the sexual assault completely. That concerns me."

Fraser swallowed hard, not wanting to think of Ray's abuse at the hands of Clooney, but unable to ignore it. "I'm not a professional, but isn't it possible that he's forgetting about it until he's more able to handle such an extreme trauma?"

"That's exactly what he's doing."

"Then why force the issue?"

Reese met his eyes. "I'm not going to force anything, Constable. However, the longer it takes for him to remember and admit that it even happened, the longer it will take for him to recover."

"What if he never remembers? He was, after all, heavily drugged with narcotics at the time of the attack."

"I can't answer that. Every patient is different."

"Then perhaps it's best to let him deal with it in his own way and at his own pace."

Reese shrugged. "I won't argue, Constable. Dealing with trauma is a tricky business no matter how we play it. Maybe he would be better off if he never remembered. Then again, he might end up on self-destruct without a clue about why he's doing what he's doing. I've seen it work out both ways."

Uneasy, Fraser looked first at Welsh and then at Reese. "Ray's asked me to see the case file."

"I thought we agreed that we wouldn't let him see it until later."

"I know, sir. We did. It's just that he's become rather insistent. He says he wants to get some objectivity about what happened. He believes reading the file will help him do that."

"Might put him over the edge, too. What do you think, Dr. Reese? Should we let Kowalski see the file?"

"You say he asked for it?"

"Yes, sir, he did."

Reese pinched the bridge of his nose before he answered. "It's hard to say. It's a gamble either way."

Fraser's frown deepened. "Why is it a gamble?"

"He could react in several ways. He might remember, accept it, and move on. He might deny the whole thing and become angry, start acting out. Or he might become seriously depressed, internalizing the pain. That's by far the most dangerous reaction. There's no way to know." Reese paused. "Look, I've only met him twice and both times he worked really hard to keep me at a distance. He's a difficult man to read, a real challenge. That's a great trait for an undercover officer, but it's tough when it comes to dealing with him in therapy. I thought I was beginning to make headway, but then this happened."

Welsh shook his head. "I don't like showing him the file, not yet." He turned his gaze on Fraser. "What do you think? Do you think he's ready?"

Gut knotted, Fraser took a deep breath. "It's not important what I think. We have to trust Ray's judgment. More importantly, Ray needs to know we trust him. He cares a great deal about that."

Reluctantly, Welsh reached over and picked up the primary case file. "You think I should be the one who hands it over?"

Fraser took the file. "No, sir. I'll do it." He glanced over at Reese. "Do you want to see Ray before or after he sees the file?"

"I'll drive over and see him before. I'll hang around in case he needs to see me later."

Fraser nodded and headed out of the office. He stopped at Ray's desk and motioned for Dief to stay put. The wolf let out a single low bark in protest. "Yes, I know. I'll tell him you miss him, too."

Ray pushed the green Jello around in the bowl, his stomach queasy from the new medications. No way he'd keep this stuff down. It looked like the gunk Mort took out of corpses.

"Stanley?"

Startled, Ray looked up. "Mum?"

"Oh, Stanley." His mother came into the room, putting a chocolate cake on the bedside table next to some flowers from the Vecchio family. She leaned over quickly, tears in her eyes while she brushed back his hair and kissed him on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Warmed by his mother's fussy touches, Ray smiled bravely. "I'm fine, Mum. A lot better, thanks. Doc says I should go home tomorrow."

Barbara Kowalski stood back, eyeing him closely while she traced a finger over his battered cheek. "You look like you went fifteen rounds, dear. I'm so sorry I haven't been here."

"It's okay. I understand. You were out of town and then you were busy."

Her voice sharpened. "Now, just stop that right now, Stanley Raymond Kowalski. Stop making excuses. I wanted to be here. It's just with your father, well, it's been difficult."

Lump in his throat, Ray nodded. "Yeah, I figured. Fraser said he said some stuff, mean stuff."

"You know your father. He's set in his ways."

"He's an asshole, Mum. Excuse my language, but you know it's true. Everything's got to be his way, his way or the highway. Look what happened when I just wanted to be a cop. I'm a good cop and all he sees is that I didn't do what he wanted."

"I know, dear. I'm proud of you. I hope you know that."

"Yeah, but it's nice to hear."

"It's just strange to have to come see my son under some strange name, though. I mean, what is that, Italian?"

"Yeah. But it's important that I still maintain cover as Vecchio."

"It must be confusing. I mean, you don't even look Italian."

"I know, Mum, but it's an important assignment."

"I'm sure it is." She squeezed his hand with love and affection.

Ray paused, wishing he didn't have to ask, but figuring he needed to know. "So what did Pop say to Fraser, exactly?"

His mother avoided his eyes as she walked to the window, her arms crossed. "You heard the ugly words growing up, so I won't repeat them. Your father's old-fashioned. He just doesn't understand."

"I love Fraser, Mum."

Closing her eyes, she sighed and then nodded. "I know, dear, and he is very nice looking. And he says he loves you, too. I just wish I could get to know him better."

"You can. Fraser, he's a great guy, a really great guy, if you'd just give him a chance."

She shook her head. "It's not that I wouldn't like to, Stanley. It's your father. Lord knows why, but I do love him. I shouldn't have to choose between you two."

His heart sank at the words, accepting the reality of it. "I know. You're right. I'm a grown man. You live your life, I'll live mine. I just wish we didn't have to be separated because of some bigot."

"Don't go calling your father names, Stanley. You know he has his reasons."

"He's a bigot, Mum, a narrow-minded bigot who hates me because I love someone he doesn't approve of."

"He doesn't hate you. Besides, it's more than that and you know it. He's never really gotten over what happened with you and Stella. She's such a fine girl, so pretty and smart, so perfect for you. You two were such a wonderful couple."

"I know that, Mum, but she left me. I never left her."

"I know, but it isn't easy for him to understand how you could be so in love with Stella and then turn around and be with this man. To be honest, I'm a little confused, too. Is it something I did? Something that Stella did to make you turn into this?"

"It's nothing like that. Fraser's just it for me. I can't explain it."

"It's very confusing."

"Yeah, I know." Ray closed his eyes, tired and frustrated. "Look, if you want me to say I'm sorry for falling in love with him, I can't do that. But I am sorry it upsets you."

"And your father?"

Ray bit his tongue. "He'll do what he always does, pretend like he's got no son, just like he pretended he didn't have a brother. You guys going back to Arizona?"

"I don't know. We've talked about it. We came back here because I finally convinced him to make up. Now this. It's been very difficult." She moved back to the bedside, her voice softer. "No matter what happens, I want you to know I love you and that I'm very, very proud of you. I hope this Mr. Fraser makes you happy again."

Ray reached over and took his mother's hand and squeezed it. "Thanks, Mum. I love you, too."

She bit her lower lip. "There's something else I have to tell you."

"What?"

"I'm afraid Stella knows about this."

His heart sank even further. "Dad called her?"

"He was so angry, so upset. He said some very harsh things. I just thought you should know in case she says anything."

"Did she say something to you about it?"

"Just a little when she called. She's worried that this is just a reaction to the divorce. She said the whole time you were together, there was no indication you had these tendencies. She thinks maybe you just need more time to come to your senses. She mentioned her cousin Saundra was coming into town later this month. Maybe you could see her, go out on a date. Maybe this thing with Mr. Fraser is just something you need to get out of your system."

Ray snorted, almost amused at his ex-wife's evaluation. "Mum, you know me. When I say I'm in love, I mean it. This ain't no phase, something to get out of my system. It's the real deal and it's got nothing to do with Stella or how you raised me. This man loves me like nobody's business. He doesn't care how messed up I am. None of that matters, not to Fraser. He doesn't make me feel like I need to change, like I'm not good enough because I'm a cop or because I'm not real educated or I don't have lots of money. He likes the real me and loves me in spite of it. That's the way love's supposed to be, at least the kind of love I need, the kind that makes me keep living. Just because we're both guys, that don't make it nasty or something bad."

"But you know what the church says. It's wrong. I've always been taught that and it's hard to believe that it's okay all of a sudden."

"How can love be wrong? Tell me that, how can it be wrong? I don't care what anybody says. I've seen enough hate to last me a lifetime. Love between two people, that's got to be good. If it ain't, then I just don't get that."

"Your father won't be able to get past it. Damien wants to leave town again. He's my husband."

"I know."

"Oh, Stanley."

Ray squeezed her hand again. "It's okay."

"We'll still talk. I can still call and send cards at Christmas and your birthday. I'll just have to be sure your father doesn't find out."

Blinking away tears, Ray nodded. "Sure, Mum, cards are good."

Ray dreamed of boxing, of throwing punches, landing each blow where he intended. Winded and sweaty, he took every jab, every hit, and leaned in even harder. In his mind, the guy was always bigger and faster, but it didn't matter. He won because in his head he knew he could outlast any guy who bothered to step in the ring. Stubborn and being able to take a solid crack to the jaw, that's what made Ray a good fighter. Whether it was in the gym or on the streets, it didn't matter.

Hearing Fraser's voice in the distance, he groaned and stepped over the ropes. As he opened the door to the weight room, he blinked and focused on his partner. "Fraser?"

"I didn't mean to wake you. You were sleeping so soundly."

"It's okay. I was finished."

"Finished?"

"The round. I was boxing."

"Anyone I know?"

Ray paused and furrowed his brow. "I don't remember his face. He was big though, and I was whipping his ass. Felt good, too."

"I see."

"See? What's to see?"

"Well, I assume that since you're incapacitated, dreaming provides an outlet for your frustration at not being able to work out on a regular schedule."

Ray pushed the button to raise the head of his bed a bit higher. He avoided Fraser's gaze, his tone tight and irritated. "Could be. Or it could be I just like to beat the shit out of people while I'm sleeping since I'm not so hot about doing that while I'm awake these days."

"Ray, did something happen while I was gone?"

"Happen? What could happen? I'm in a hospital bed dreaming my ass off."

"You seem upset."

Ray paled slightly, his voice more choked. "My mum came by to see me."

"Ah."

Ray lifted his cast slightly. "Don't ah me or I'll clobber you with this thing."

Fraser kept his voice calm and steady. "I assume the visit didn't go well."

"You assume correctly. My dad thinks I'm a piece of shit and while my mum says she still loves me, she loves my dad more." He paused and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "No, that's not fair. She's been with him since she was a kid. I can't expect her to leave him because he's an asshole after all this time. Hell, he's been an asshole off and on ever since I can remember."

"It must have been painful."

"Yeah, well, it's what I expected. I mean, I grew up hearing about faggots and queers and how they should all be shot so they could burn in hell. I don't know why I'd think me being his son would make any difference."

"I'm sorry, Ray." Fraser touched his shoulder in sympathy, but Ray didn't respond. After a few moments, Fraser prompted, "Is there anything I can do?"

Ray swallowed hard and sat up straighter. "Give me the file and take Mum's cake out to the nurses or something."

"Isn't chocolate your favorite?"

"I'm not in the mood, okay? Just get rid of it."

"Understood." Fraser handed him the file folder and went to the other side of the bed to pick up the cake. He hesitated. "Ray, I should tell you before you start that Dr. Reese is in the hall. He wanted to talk to you about the situation first. I told him I'd ask."

"And I told you I don't want to see him or any other quacks right now."

"Ray, that's hardly a fair assessment of the psychiatric profession in general or Dr. Reese in particular. He seems more than competent and he's very concerned about your welfare."

Angry, Ray snorted. "What? You want me to see this guy? You think I need to see this jerk?"

"I didn't say that. I just think that cutting off all possibility that you might need some support later on during recovery is a bit hasty."

"Hasty? Hasty? Well, here's hasty for you, Fraser, old buddy, old pal, just get the hell out. Take the fucking cake and Reese and just go."

Stunned by his partner's unexpected temper, Fraser stood stock still. "Ray, you don't have to see Reese, but I'm not leaving."

Ray's right hand trembled as he held the file in his lap. "I need you to go, Fraser. I didn't mean to yell. I'm sorry. I'm a jerk sometimes, I know that. I'm not mad at you, but I need to be alone when I read this."

"That's not a good idea, Ray."

"I can't read it if you're in here."

Fraser ran his thumb over his eyebrow and bit his lower lip. After a moment, he nodded. "On one condition."

"What?"

"That you'll talk about it afterwards, tell me what you're thinking. I don't mean this as a criticism, Ray, but you do tend to push me away when you're upset about something. If we're to be together, I have to know that you trust me enough to be honest about what you're feeling."

"That's a hard one."

"I know that."

Ray cleared his throat. "I can't promise, I just can't. Don't ask me to do that. It's not you and it's not that I don't trust you. I do. It's me, I know it's me. I have a problem talking about stuff like this. It's not easy. All I can do is say I'll try."

Fraser touched his good shoulder and squeezed gently. "I'll be outside then."

Ray captured his wrist. "Tell Reese it wasn't his fault."

"What wasn't his fault?"

"Jenson being able to nab me like that in his office. He had a gun to his head. I get that. I don't want him to think that I blame him and that's why I won't see him."

"Maybe you should tell him yourself."

"Don't make this a federal case, Fraser. Just tell him."

Nodding, Fraser headed for the door and paused. "Call me when you're done."

As soon as Fraser left the room, Ray looked down at the file. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down, swearing to himself that no matter what he read, he'd be all right. Fraser knew what happened, so now it was his turn to face the music. He tugged on the overhead light chain to make it brighter and then opened the cover, letting his cop brain take over.

After an hour and no signal from Ray, a worried Fraser knocked lightly and then entered the room. Ray sat quietly, staring off into space, the file closed on his lap.

"Ray?" When his partner didn't answer right away, Fraser walked to his bedside and touched his chest. "Ray, are you okay?"

"Don't think so. I think I'm in trouble, big trouble, the kind of trouble you never think can happen. I thought I could handle this, but I can't."

"It's a lot to take in."

"That's just it. I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Can't take it in. Every time I try to read this thing, I can't. It's like it turns into another language or something." Ray wet his lips and took a few deep breaths. "At first I thought it was just my eyes, so I tested them out. I want to read about the Bulls, no problem. I go back to the file again, and bam, it turns into scribbles. It's like I got this mental block or something. I guess that means I'm crazier than I thought, a serious nut job."

"You're not unbalanced, Ray. You're just not ready to read it."

"But that's the thing, Fraser."

"I don't understand."

"I want to read it. I mean, I feel like I'm ready to read the damn thing and get it done with. I mean, I asked to read it. But I can't make it out no matter how hard I try. That's never happened before, never, no matter how bad things were." The words hurried along, the panic just beneath the surface. "I mean, how fucked up is that?"

"Ray, calm down. I'm sure the situation is temporary."

Turning to face Fraser, Ray shook his head. "You don't know that. No way you could know that. I could be seriously screwed in the head here. I'm a cop. I've got to be able to deal with stuff like this, no matter how bad it is."

"And you will, when you're ready."

Ray reached for Fraser's hand and held it to his chest as he closed his eyes. Shaky all over, he whispered, "Fraser, I'm scared."

"I know, Ray."

"I mean, when your brain's playing hide and seek with your life, it means you're pretty fucked up, right? Even I know that much, even I know you don't hide shit from yourself unless you're in a hell of a lot of trouble."

Fraser squeezed his hand and spoke calmly, his voice smooth and soothing. "Listen to me, Ray. You've suffered through a terrible situation, but you're going to recover at your own pace, both physically and emotionally. When you're stronger, when you've had time to heal, then you'll remember the details. Right now all that matters is that you're alive and getting better all the time." Fraser paused and then petted back Ray's hair. "I love you. You're going to go home and we'll be together."

Ray hated crying, hated it, wanted to smack himself around and say knock it off, you big baby. But none of that tough talk in his head helped, so he gave up. A tear slipped down the side of Ray's face and he nodded. He didn't speak right away, but he opened his eyes and met Fraser's stare. Clearing his throat, he found his voice. "I love you, too, but I'm just really messed up right now."

Fraser smiled as he cupped Ray's face. "But you're alive."

"Not too picky, huh?"

"On the contrary, I'm very discriminating." He leaned in and very carefully kissed him, just the slightest of teases on the damaged lips.

Ray hesitated, but then hooked the nape of Fraser's neck with his good hand to keep him from pulling away. He kissed him again harder, his tongue meeting Fraser's. When he finished, he grinned. "You taste like chocolate."

Flushing, Fraser ran a finger along Ray's chin. "The nurses wanted me to share in the bounty of your mother's cake."

"And you being a good little Mountie had to be polite."

"Of course, Ray." Fraser stood up straighter, his face serious again. "Nurse Buchman also asked me if I knew why you weren't eating. I must confess I was at a loss."

Pulling away, Ray's breath hitched as he repositioned himself on the bed, the oversized cast straining his patience. "Hospital food sucks, Fraser. You've seen it. Dief wouldn't even eat the stuff they bring in here. It's nasty. Speaking of Furface, how is the wolf?"

"He misses you, but otherwise he's fine. Now, don't change the subject. I realize hospital food isn't exactly Canadian cuisine, but to heal, your body needs plenty of protein and other essential nutrients to repair your bones and damaged tissues."

"You sound like the Discovery Channel."

"I'm serious, Ray. You need to eat more."

"I'm not hungry and even if I was starving, I'm not eating something that looks and smells like garbage."

Fraser opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it. He waited a few moments to calm himself before speaking more quietly. "I understand your reluctance. There must be a great deal of discomfort in addition to the food being unappetizing. As soon as you're released, I'll endeavor to make sure you have some food that you'll find more appealing. Until then, you need to try harder."

Frustrated, Ray adjusted the new sling that strained and rubbed at his neck. "Don't tell me what to do."

"I'm just suggesting that the doctor expects you to eat more. When you're home, it'll be easier to find something that's more pleasing."

"You're not my slave, Fraser. I'll just have something delivered."

"Ray, it's no problem."

"It's a problem for me. I don't want you fussing over me when I get home. I just want us to try and act normal. Is that too hard to do, to be normal?"

"I suppose it depends on your definition of normal."

Ray sighed heavily. "Look, Fraser, I know I'm being a real pain in the ass here, but I really need some space. I've got things to think about, things to work out."

"And I get in the way of that?"

The hurt tone jarred him. Ray turned and shook his head. "It's not you. No matter how bad I get, don't ever think it's you." Reaching over, Ray took Fraser's hand again. "If I get really bad, just kick me in the head and be done with it, okay?"

"I'd never kick you in the head, Ray."

"But you've got my permission if I get too out of line. Maybe a good kick in the head is what I need, you know like a jumpstart or something."

"I hardly think a kick in the head is listed under any approved medical procedures."

"Maybe not, but I know a few people I'd like to kick in the head and I'm pretty damn sure that it would make me feel a hell of a lot better."

"Who would that be?"

"My father for one."

"Who else?"

Ray's tongue tripped. He wanted to say Clooney, but he couldn't say the name out loud, couldn't get near it. "Doesn't matter. He's dead now, so it's over."

"You're thinking about Michael Clooney."

"I don't want to, but yeah, he slips in."

Fraser nodded, his face grim. "I shouldn't say this."

"Say what?"

"It goes against everything I've been trained to say and believe."

"What, Fraser?"

"I'm glad he's dead."

Ray squeezed Fraser's hand. "All that means is that you're human."

"More human than you know."

"How's that?"

"I was there when they shot Clooney."

"I know. I remember that part."

Fraser's voice choked. "I thought he'd killed you."

A rush of love overwhelmed him. "But he didn't."

"I wanted to kill him myself."

"It's okay, Fraser. It's normal to want to protect somebody you love. I'd feel the same way if someone hurt you."

A tongue ran along Fraser's lower lip as he struggled with control. "You don't understand, Ray. Even when I was pursuing the men who killed my father, I never felt that kind of rage, that kind of hatred. I must admit that it frightened me to know that I have that wealth of negative emotion inside me."

"You're wrong. I know exactly what it's like to hate somebody that much. I tried explaining it before, but it must not have come out right. There's no reason to feel guilty about hating an evil son of a bitch like that."

"That's the odd thing, Ray. I don't feel guilty, not in the least. His death means that he'll never hurt you again and you won't have to testify."

"The bastard gave up his right to live when he killed Ricky and those other cops. And those weren't the only people he killed, either. There's no reason to feel guilty or feel guilty about not feeling guilty, you got that?"

"I think so."

"Good, because I don't want to talk about it anymore. It makes my head hurt, and my head has taken enough shots for one day."

Ray let go of Fraser's hand and lifted the file from his lap. "Here, take this thing back to Welsh. I'm sleepy. My head's killing me all of a sudden. Maybe I'll get some shut eye and when you get back, we'll talk about the trip."

Nodding, Fraser reluctantly took the file. "I don't like leaving you here alone."

"I'll be fine, Fraser, I'm good."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. One thing though, you could stop by a store and get me something to wear home tomorrow since all my clothes are shot."

"Certainly."

"And Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For putting up with a mug like me."

Fraser leaned in and kissed him gently, his voice smooth like warm honey. "My pleasure."

The forest stretched out, one tree after the other, all bunched up, no paths or obvious trails. For hours Ray trekked through the snowy wilderness until the light began to fail. He didn't need Fraser to tell him he had to find shelter before dark or end up an icicle in the middle of nowhere. Up ahead, he suddenly saw a flickering campfire.

Moving quickly, he followed the line of sight until he finally emerged from the trees into a narrow clearing. Sitting down on a stump, he took off his gloves and then warmed his hands, blowing on them and then holding them together in front of the small fire. Ray sniffed the air and his stomach growled.

Bob Fraser stirred the pot and glanced over. "You need to eat, son. You can't make it out here looking like some half-starved wolf cub. One strong wind and you'd be done for."

"You sound like Fraser." Ray motioned towards the pot. "What's in there?"

"Rabbit."

"Real rabbit?"

"As real as one gets when you're dead."

"You're still dead, huh?"

"Seems to be a permanent condition. Not much one can do but make the best of it."

Nodding, Ray stuffed his gloves in his pocket. "So why am I here again?"

"That's hard to say." Fraser picked up a bowl and ladled out some stew. He handed it over to Ray along with a fork. "Every man chooses his own journey, his own path."

"And your path brings you to the woods every night?"

"Actually I've got a nice warm office in the Consulate. It's been rather pleasant talking to Benton on a regular basis. I must confess that I seem to be a better parent dead than I was alive. It's a shame to admit, but there you are. No use denying the truth any more than pretending it doesn't snow in Canada."

"Fraser sees you?"

"Benton sees me when he wants to. He's always been an obstinate child. Hasn't changed much over the years. Gets that from his mother."

"So you're saying he sees and talks to you just like I'm doing now?"

"Not exactly. To be frank, I'm not sure why you're able to see me. Death's not all it's cracked up to be. Contrary to popular belief, you don't have all the answers. You wander around and around, no map, no instructions. It needs some serious restructuring, but try telling that to the ones in charge and see how far it gets you. Not very far, I can tell you."

Ray stirred his stew, tasting a tiny bit and then nodding with approval, the flavor like chicken pot pie made with dark meat and without the crust. "Not bad."

"Eat up. There's plenty more."

Finishing his bowlful, he put it down and took the next offered cup. "What's this?"

"Bark tea. Drink it. You need it."

Ray didn't argue and drank, coughing a few times. It tasted like the pond water he'd swallowed when he'd jumped into his cousin's farm pond when he was only fourteen. He made a face. "How can Fraser drink this stuff? Tastes scummy."

Fraser's father didn't answer, just added another piece of wood to the fire, the sparks flying up as the light around them faded to pitch black. "You really shouldn't take it so personally, son."

"What's that?"

"The medics. They mean well. Of course, half the time they don't know a hawk from a handsaw, but still, they're not malicious." Fraser Senior tapped his nose in a knowing gesture and smiled. "Just play along and you'll be shipshape and ready for action. That's the aim, son. To be back out there doing what you were made for, fighting for justice. And, after all, you have the edge now."

"What edge?"

"My son for a partner."

Ray crossed his arms, suddenly colder, an unexpected chill wracking his body. He leaned in closer to the fire, but the heat didn't faze him. He touched his hand to his head, a throbbing pain in his left temple. Swallowing back nausea, he closed his eyes. "I don't feel so good."

Ignoring his complaint, Bob Fraser kept talking. "Did I ever tell you about the time Fraser was only two and he ran out into the snow naked looking for his pet bear cub?"

"Pet bear cub?"

"Not a real pet. He didn't know how vicious the creature's mother could be when she thought her offspring was in danger." Fraser Senior smiled with pride. "Benton was such a fearless boy even as a baby."

"And the naked part?"

The older man laughed. "He always hated wearing clothes. His mother used to chase him around trying to keep the child covered. Of course, a frostbite scare when he was five cured that inclination."

Ray closed his eyes, the world suddenly spinning. Swallowing down bile, he blinked several times, opening his eyes to the bright light of the overhead fixture. Fraser pulled the blanket up higher and cupped his face. "Ray?"

"Jesus, who let the truck in?"

"Truck?"

"The one that hit me."

Fraser's face tightened, his lips thin with worry. "You're running a fever. The doctor put you back on IV antibiotics."

"Shit."

"You scared me."

Ray closed his eyes, trying to keep the dizziness down to a minimum. "Sorry. Didn't mean to."

"The doctor said this isn't unexpected considering the number of traumatic wounds inflicted."

"Son of a bitch could've mentioned it."

"He did. We were just hoping it wouldn't happen."

Ray peeked one eye at his partner. "We? When did he say that?"

"The first day you were admitted."

"Did he tell me?"

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"You were unconscious at the time."

"Yeah, but then I woke up. Remember me, Fraser, me, the patient, the one who needs to know these little details?" His teeth chattered and he forgot the rest of what he wanted to fuss about. His overheated mind fuzzed out all his clear thinking or the clever use of his tongue.

"You're right. I should've made sure he told you. I suppose my only excuse is that I truly hoped it wouldn't happen."

Ray grabbed the rail of the bed and held on. "I'll forgive you if you'll make the room stop spinning and turn up the heat. Did they forget to pay the bill or something?"

"Your body's natural defenses are trying to bring your temperature down."

"By freezing my ass off?"

"Actually, your present temperature is several degrees above normal. You need to rest and let the antibiotics fight the infection."

"How long will that take?"

"A few more days."

"A few more days? But I'm going home tomorrow."

Fraser frowned. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"You mean other than having rabbit stew with your dad?"

"You were eating rabbit stew with my father?"

Sighing, Ray recalled the encounter. "Yeah, he's a good cook, too, considering he's a dead guy."

"Ray, you've been very ill. You've been in and out of consciousness since you spiked a fever last night. You were supposed to be released today, but that's been delayed."

"So I just dreamed up how you used to run around naked looking for pet bears and getting frostbite?"

"Dear God, will I never live that down?"

"At least he didn't drag out the naked baby pictures."

"The man seems to delight in finding the most outrageous ways to embarrass me."

Ray laughed and then groaned at the discomfort. "He loves you, Fraser. He's back from the grave to prove it for godsakes. Be grateful."

Angry lines smoothed and Fraser nodded. "You're right, Ray. I'm being foolish."

"That's okay. A dad can make a guy crazy sometimes, I know that. At least your dad seems to be okay with us being together." Ray coughed, holding his stomach and then clearing his throat. "It's just weird how he's always showing up when I'm sleeping lately. You think it's because I need a dad now or because he's really real? I mean, I know he's a dream, but he seems a lot more real than my own dad. You think that means something or am I just crazy?"

"You're not crazy, Ray. I see him, too. I must confess the first time he appeared, I thought I was losing my mind as well."

"Maybe we're both nuts."

"And maybe we have a special connection that lets us see beyond the normal limits of perception."

Ray shut his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, right. Like I said, Fraser, nuts, Looney tunes, cracked, unhinged, you pick one. All I know is, I'm talking to your dead father more than I'm talking to my own. I don't know what the hell it means, but it's not supposed to be happening. Maybe I need special drugs and a straight jacket. Maybe I just need to get well and get the hell out of Chicago before I really do go crazy."

"You're not crazy, Ray."

"Easy for you to say. You've been talking to the dead guy all along and didn't even tell me. I won't even mention the talking to the deaf wolf thing."

"I didn't mean to keep it from you."

Holding up a hand, Ray shook his head. "It's okay. I understand. You didn't want me to think you had a screw loose. I get that. I'd have done the same thing. God, my head's killing me. Why's my head hurt?"

"It's the infection."

"In my head?"

"You've got a systemic infection. Your white blood cell count is extremely high, Ray. That's what's causing the headaches, along with the fever, chills, and other rather unpleasant symptoms. That's why you're on the IVs again. The oral medications didn't adequately control the infection."

Ray looked disdainfully at the IV in his right hand and then closed his eyes. "I'm so sick of this, Fraser. I just want to go home."

"And you will. Just not today."

"It's been almost a week now."

"I know."

Ray sighed in surrender, his head all mushy and his thoughts soft. "Fraser, tell me about what we're going to do when we get to your father's cabin. What's it going to be like, just the two of us?"

Fraser used a cool, damp cloth and wiped back blond hair as he talked about plans, about all the things that needed to be done, chopping the wood, fetching water, all kinds of sturdy, pioneer stuff. But Ray didn't listen to the details, just the tone of his partner's gentle voice, the words like music that played an intimate song that he wanted to hear forever.

Welsh walked down the corridor, tired and remembering how much he hated hospitals, the smells, the noise, all of it. Too many distraught families and too many officers down made visiting hours something he dreaded with a passion every time he had to show up. Still, duty was duty, so after Kowalski's unexpected and rather disjointed call, he needed to follow up.

Arms crossed, Fraser leaned against the wall outside Ray's room, obviously worn-out. Dressed in jeans and a white, wool sweater, he looked up and smiled. "Lieutenant Welsh, nice to see you."

"Nice to see you, too, Constable, though I've seen you looking better."

"Well, it's been a long night."

"How's he doing?"

"Improving. He's cranky again which is always a reliable sign with Ray that he's feeling better."

"And you're out here in the hallway because?"

"The doctor and nurse are removing some of his sutures and treating his wounds."

Welsh nodded and studied the young man again. He'd seen Fraser in many conditions, enthusiastic, thoughtful, concerned, even desperate about his partner's life, but never this exhausted. "You get any sleep at all over the last few days?"

"I managed a few hours here and there."

"Right. Well, since the doctors and nurses seem to have your partner in hand, why don't I take you down to the cafeteria they have here in this fine medical establishment and buy you a cup of coffee or tea if you prefer?"

"I don't know, sir. Ray might need me."

"I'm sure he will, but we have time between now and then." Welsh took his elbow and headed him towards the elevator and then released him. He pushed the down button and glanced sideways. "So the doctor give any more clues about when we can spring him?"

"Perhaps tomorrow. The doctor keeps hedging and won't give a definite answer."

"I'm sure that went over well."

Fraser didn't bother to respond, but grinned weakly as the elevator dinged. They got on, riding with the other passengers in silence. Then they got off and walked together to the double doors, Fraser suddenly stopping. "I really should be up there."

"Constable, he'll be fine. You'll go back in a minute."

"It's just, well, I must confess, I have a rather irrational urge to run up the stairs to stand guard. I can't seem to shake this overwhelming anxiety about his welfare."

"Understandable."

Fraser's bloodshot eyes met Welsh's steady gaze. "Is it?"

"Everybody feels like that when a partner gets hurt."

Once again, Welsh landed a hand on Fraser's shoulder and nudged him forward. As they started through the line, Welsh asked, "You eat yet?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll just have tea."

Welsh picked up one tray, getting himself coffee and a Danish along with Fraser's tea. He paid and then led them to a table off to the side. Once seated, Welsh doctored his drink with cream and then watched as Frazer fiddled with his tea, not really drinking, glancing nervously at the door.

"You want to tell me how he's really doing or do we keep dancing?"

"Dancing?"

"Pretending."

"Ah." Fraser didn't meet his eyes. "Like I said, he's shown remarkable improvement. The oral antibiotics seem to cause some nausea, but they are controlling the infection, so the fever is gone. However, he's still not eating well. The doctor is giving him supplements, which he detests."

"Anything else?"

"Some of his wounds are quite deep. The ones on his right shoulder and left thigh needed debridement."

"Debridement?"

"A procedure which removes the dead tissue. There quite likely will be deep scaring. The doctor suggested the possibility of seeing a plastic surgeon after they're fully healed for reconstruction."

Welsh swallowed hard, remembering the staggering number of cuts and gashes, the 232 sutures, the bruises, the blood. He met Fraser's knowing eyes, recognizing a similar pain, a similar guilt at not saving Ray from the whole thing. "And his mental state other than cranky?"

"It's difficult to say."

"Constable, I'm not here to hurt him."

"Understood." Fraser glanced away. "He still can't remember what happened and that scares him."

"I think it would scare anybody."

"Agreed. Still, he's frustrated and angry about not being able to control what's happening to him here. He doesn't like being restricted."

"You're telling me."

Fraser smiled and nodded. "Indeed, sir. The nurses consider him quite a challenge."

"I'll bet they do. And what about you? Is he challenging you?"

Puzzled, Fraser frowned. "In what way?"

"I mean, does he push you away, threaten to kick you in the head like he tends to do?"

"Ah, well, I know he doesn't mean it."

"Of course. My point is, how are you holding up dealing with him?"

"I'm doing fine, sir."

"You don't look fine, Constable. You look done in, ready to drop. You need to look out for yourself, too. You can't help him if you give out before you even get the man home."

"There's no need for concern, Lieutenant. I've gone for extended periods without rest before."

"Probably so, but I'll wager you've never had to take care of someone like your partner before. I've observed Ray Kowalski pretty extensively over the last year and he doesn't strike me as someone who's going to make it easy on either one of you once he's out of here."

"He'll make it harder on himself."

"No doubt. Still, you'll be better able to handle him if you're rested and in good shape yourself."

"I'll rest when he's home."

"I'd be surprised if that were true." Welsh held up a hand to halt Fraser's protest. "Listen to me, I want you to go home, get rested, and then come back tomorrow. Hopefully, you'll be able to take him home by then."

"I appreciate your concern, sir, but I really can't do that."

"Can't or won't?"

"A little of both, I'm afraid."

"What if I made it an order?"

"I hope you won't do that."

"Because you'd disobey?"

"Yes."

"I was afraid of that." Shrugging, Welsh finished off his Danish and coffee before wiping his mouth. "All right then, here's the drill. We go up, I see my detective for myself, and we'll get his vote about you taking the day off."

Startled, Fraser shook his head. "Ray doesn't get a vote in this."

Welsh smiled, his eyes sparkling. "We'll see about that."

Ray floated with the drugs, relishing the relief they gave, the overall dullness that kept him from crying out. His wounds itched all the time now, a good sign according to Doctor Love-To-Hurt-Your-Ass Barnes, who acted like it was no big deal to pull nasty shit out of cuts all over his body. Son of a bitch didn't even flinch when he jerked the thread out without warning or scrubbed away the crusty scabs clinging to the edges of Ray's damaged skin. Bastard enjoyed shoving a gloved hand up his ass without mercy, all clinical and cold like it was no big deal to do that, to fucking do that like it was nothing. God, how he fucking hated doctors.

Running a tongue along the inside of his healing lip, Ray closed his eyes and went with the drifting sensation. The bruised fingers of his left hand throbbed so he wiggled them a little just to change the rhythm of the pain. The broken wrist hurt bone deep and no matter what he did, that never really changed. But as long as he took the drugs, he just didn't give a shit. He could live with that. Might decide to live with it a long time if he had to. Stoned was good, stoned was greatness. He had connections. Sure beat the hell out of booze.

"Ray?"

Ray peeked an eye open. "Hey, Fraser, Lieutenant. Where you guys been?" The words came out slurred, but he played them off. "Missed all the fun up here. A real barrel of monkeys."

Welsh frowned, but kept his voice neutral. "How are you feeling, Detective, as if I can't tell?"

"Fine, just fine. You?"

"I'm fine, too." Welsh motioned towards Fraser. "But the Constable here, he's not so fine. Seems he doesn't want to follow your suggestion of taking a break."

"Big surprise. Told you he's hard-headed. Stubborn as they come. Bet he's the most stubborn Mountie on the whole damn planet. Just my luck."

Startled, Fraser interrupted. "I don't understand, Ray. Did you call the lieutenant and tell him you wanted me to leave you alone for the night?"

"Told you myself and got squat for my efforts. Thought I'd bring in the big guns. Right, Lieutenant?"

"Right."

"Well, it won't work."

"Fraser, give me a break here. I'm trying to be as dippy, diplo something or other, as I can be."

"You mean diplomatic?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's it." Ray nearly giggled, the dope making his head sing even if he was fussing with Fraser. "You're just wasted, way too tired for your own good, and it's all my fault. Makes me feel like shit seeing you too tried to see straight."

"Ray, it's not your fault that I'm tired."

"So you admit you're tired."

"Well, of course, I'm tired, Ray but I'm not too tired to be here. You need me."

"Yeah, yeah, I do, I need you to do me a favor. Go home and sack out. Then come back tomorrow and get my ass out of here whether the doctor okays it or not."

"Ray..."

"Please, Fraser. Do this for me." Ray knew he didn't play fair, but he didn't care about that. He needed a break, a serious vacation from dealing with anyone, especially Fraser. "Please?"

Fraser ran his thumb over his eyebrow and then looked first at Welsh and then Ray. "I don't like it, but if you really want me to go temporarily, I will." Before Ray could smile at his victory, Fraser raised a finger and added, "On one condition."

"Jesus, Fraser, what is it with you? You've always got a condition."

"I want someone here with you."

"No."

"No? Ray, that's my condition."

"Take it or leave it? I don't think so. I don't need a babysitter. I can do for myself and anything I can't do, there's a nurse a buzzer away. So pack up your Stetson and hit the road with the lieutenant."

Welsh interrupted. "Look, Kowalski, I offered to help here, and I agree that the Constable needs rest."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is, I want to know what you've got up your sleeve."

"Ten pounds of plaster looks like."

"Don't get flip with me or you'll need another ten pounds. Spill or I'll be the one camping out on your doorstep until morning."

Fraser crossed his arms and nodded. "Yes, Ray. Spill."

Ray sighed and shook his head. "I can't believe you guys. No wonder you're cops. Suspicious fucks."

"Excuse me, Detective?"

"Oops. Sorry, sir. Didn't mean to say that out loud."

"You didn't answer the question, either."

"I swear I only wanted a little break, sir, maybe go for a little walk or something. I've been cooped up here for over a week now. I just wanted to get out, see a movie, go to a game. I'd have been back in a couple of hours."

"If you thought you could pull that off, then those drugs have done more than addle your tongue, Kowalski.”

"Dear God, Ray, did you seriously believe you could sneak out without being noticed? This is a hospital. They would've notified us right away if you were missing."

"And then, Detective, we would track you down and drag your sorry ass back."

"Ray, please, tell me you weren't really thinking about doing something that could endanger your recovery like this."

Refusing to meet either man's eyes, Ray turned away and stared at the wall instead. "Okay, so it was a stupid plan. Being stupid comes easy. But you still need to rest. I'm still worried about you getting sick because of me."

Welsh shook his head in frustration. "Listen, Kowalski, I don't know where your mind is right now, but you pull a stunt like that and I'd be the one kicking someone in the head. You got that?"

"Got it."

"Good." Welsh turned to Fraser. "What would you like to do, Constable? I've got a nice pair of handcuffs if you're interested."

Fraser shook his head. "No, I'll be fine. If you want to visit, I'll wait outside, but I'm not leaving." He stepped closer to the bed, his voice softer, but still tough. "I'm not leaving, Ray. You want to sneak out on your own, you've got to get past me to do it."

Ray heard Fraser's hurt, felt it deep in his gut. Still turned away, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Fraser. I fucked up. I'm sorry."

Instead of answering, Fraser stepped to the door. "Thank you for coming by, Lieutenant." He walked out and the door clicked shut.

After a moment of silence, Ray rolled onto his back, his good arm up and over his face. "Fuck."

"That about covers it, Kowalski. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, not really. I just wanted a break."

"A break from reality?"

"Reality is overrated, sir. Besides, it wasn't like I was going on the lam or anything. I just wanted to get some fresh air, just be free for a few hours, that's all."

"Don't lie to me and don't keep lying to yourself."

Surprised by the hard tone, Ray moved his arm and stared into the concerned eyes of his boss. "I'm not lying."

"You can barely make it to the can on your own. Where did you really expect to go in your condition? In front of the bus or on it?"

"You think I want to hurt myself?"

Welsh leaned against the rail, his voice softer. "Kowalski...Ray, I don't know what to think. Something tells me you don't know, either. What am I supposed to think, that you're going out of your way to get rid of your partner just so you can run around alone when you're drugged to the gills and not thinking straight? See a problem here?"

"I guess so."

"You guess so?"

Ray swallowed hard. "Yes, I see a problem, sir."

"And do you know what the problem is?"

"Well, you see, that's sort of the problem."

"I was afraid of that."

"Look, look, I know it was dumb, really stupid and I won't do it again. I just need you to explain it to Fraser."

"Explain what to Fraser?"

"Explain that I didn't mean to hurt him, or trick him, or do anything stupid like that."

Welsh stood up straighter and shook his head. "You can tell him yourself."

"But he's pissed."

"He should be."

Ray closed his eyes and fought down his scream. "You don't know what it's like."

"What?"

"Having Fraser here all the time, looking at me, knowing he knows what happened and knowing that no matter how hard I try, I can't remember." Ray swallowed hard, the grief almost too much. "I catch him staring and he's so sad, I mean, deep, hardcore sad like he gets sometimes, and he's looking at me with that look and it hurts, hurts like nothing I've ever felt before."

"So you wanted him to go home to get a break from that?"

"Yeah."

"So, were you really going to sneak out or did you just make that up to cover the real reason?"

"I don't know, Lieutenant. I don't know if it's a lie. I might've tried it or I might have just watched the game and sacked out. To be honest, I don't half know what I'm going to do anymore."

"Like you half knew before."

The sudden sarcasm took him off guard. Ray shrugged. "Yeah, well, you've got a point there." He paused as he gripped the blanket, suddenly nervous. "Look, don't tell Fraser what I said about him being sad about me and about it being too much sometimes."

"I won't, but I think you should. He needs to know what you're thinking."

"Why should he have an advantage I don't?"

Welsh sighed heavily. "Because he's your partner, Ray, and, if you ask me, he needs all the help he can get."

"You still mad?"

"I'm fine, Ray."

"You're mad."

"I said I was fine."

"I can tell you're still mad. You get this pinched look around the face."

"Dear God, Ray, would you please stop?"

"I'm sorry, Fraser. I said I was sorry. What more can I do?"

Fraser dropped the unfinished crossword puzzle on the table and stood up. He walked to the bed and took a deep breath as he braced both arms on the raised rail. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"A lot, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, yeah, Fraser, I guess." Ray tested the waters and touched the top of Fraser's hand. When his partner didn't pull away, Ray swallowed hard. "I figure if you're half in love with me as I am with you, you're in a bad way."

"I don't consider being in love with you being in a bad way, Ray."

"Maybe you should. I'm not easy to be with even when I'm in good shape and I'm about as far from good here as I can get." He rubbed his thumb along the top of Fraser's hand as he talked quietly. "Stella used to complain about how hard it was to love me."

"Don't take this as a personal criticism, Ray, but your ex-wife was an emotionally abusive woman."

Shocked by the unexpectedly harsh words, Ray pulled away and met Fraser's steady gaze. "What?"

"She continually manipulated and used your love and affection as a tool to belittle and berate you. What concerns me is why you put up with it for as long as you did and then wanted to go back for more. You were, and still are to some degree, obsessed with the woman."

Suddenly angry, Ray snapped back, "And you weren't obsessed with that Victoria bitch?"

Fraser nodded, still calm. "You're right. I was. Perhaps that's why I can see clearly how being with someone can sometimes blind you to that person's machinations, blind you enough to cause problems."

"Blinded by love? You think being in love with me is a bad thing, that it's going to turn out a disaster for both of us like it did with Victoria and Stella? Is that what you're saying here, Fraser, because it sure sounds like that's what you're saying."

"No, Ray, that's not what I'm saying." Fraser leaned in against the side of the bed, his face stretched with fatigue and frustration. "I'm just saying that you can't gauge your behavior by what Stella used to say. You do that a lot, put yourself down based on her rather unfair and biased appraisals."

"Stella's a smart woman. I tend to fall for the smart ones."

"Ray, she's very intelligent. I won't debate that. She's the avatar through which you see yourself, but that's not a true representation of what and who you truly are."

"Huh?"

"You take her unkind words and biased views to heart and you shouldn't."

"Why not? She loved me, Fraser. Sure, she fell out of love later on, but that was my fault, not hers."

"Why was it your fault, Ray? You were mere children when you met, under rather traumatic circumstances, I might add, which would explain your intense fixation on her from the start. Few of us are the same as children as we are as adults. It's only natural that you eventually developed different interests. However, instead of sharing and accepting those differences, Stella wanted you to be the one who always sacrificed, always gave in to her wishes. When you did, she saw you as weak. When you didn't, she complained that you were difficult and without ambition. I'm sorry, Ray, but that's not a good marriage. That's not how I want our life to be."

"You done?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Good, because you don't have a right to dissect my marriage. You weren't there. You only see the one side after the fact, and, let's face it, Fraser, you're on my side. So your view of Stella ain't exactly fair here."

"And her view of you isn't fair, either, Ray. You color your opinions of yourself based on her comments and rejection."

"That's my fault, not hers."

"You're doing it again, Ray."

"Doing what?"

"Excusing her and blaming yourself."

"So what if I am?" Ray shook his head and then raised a hand. "Don't answer that. Look, I don't want to talk about Stella anymore. I want to talk about us. I need to know I didn't fuck this up so much that you're having second thoughts about this whole thing."

"I'm not having second thoughts."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Not even a little bit. I love you, Ray, no matter how exasperating your behavior can be sometimes."

"Exasperating, huh?"

"Excruciatingly so on occasion. Still, it does seem to add a certain intensity to my life that I never had before."

Ray smiled. "Intensity's good."

"Yes, it is, Ray. Your passion makes the colors of the world more real, more alive, the music more uplifting, and my world more like Heaven as long as you're in it."

His chest tightened at the romantic words and at Fraser's kiss to his hand. Stella never liked the mushy stuff and now here was Fraser doing to him what he used to do to her. Weird world, but he liked it. "I love you, too, Fraser."

"I know, Ray."

"So we're still good?"

"To coin one of your favorite phrases, we're greatness."

God, he so didn't need Stella standing in the doorway looking so damn fine, not with Fraser giving her the closest thing he'd ever seen to a Canadian evil eye. "Hey, Stella."

She gave Fraser a hateful glare right back. "Ray, could I see you alone, please?"

If the tension got any thicker, he'd choke to death in no time. Jesus. "Hey, Fraser, would you get me some of that chocolate pudding from downstairs?"

"Certainly, Ray. I'll be right back. Good evening, Ms. Kowalski."

"Constable Fraser." The dismissive tone pissed him off but Fraser just accepted it with a nod, glanced knowingly in his direction, and left for downstairs.

Stella shut the door and stepped to the bedside. "You look like shit, Ray."

"Gee, thanks, Stell. Nice to see you, too."

Her face softened as she reached out and caressed his bruised cheek gently, lovingly. He didn't mind the touch, but he could do without all the fucking pity in her eyes. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me."

"I always want to see you, Stella, you know that. And thanks for the flowers and balloons. You didn't have to." He motioned to the colorful arrangement on the window sill.

"I know I didn't have to." She pulled her hand away, her voice that dead serious tone she got when she wanted to boss him around some. Funny how he never really remembered it sounding like that before, but it sure as hell sounded pushy as hell now. "Ray, I talked to your mom and dad. Damien's very upset and so is Barbara. I couldn't believe what they told me."

"You mean about me and Fraser?"

"I told them they must be mistaken."

"They're not mistaken, Stella."

"But you're not gay, Ray. I mean, I would've known." She reached over the rail and took his hand, touching him and talking to him like she sometimes did when they were married, like he was still a kid who didn't know any better. "Listen, you've been through a lot and this Constable Fraser's been there through the worst of it. You're just confusing friendship with something else. Either that or he's taking advantage when you're not really emotionally fit to deal with it. It's not too late to stop this before it gets too serious."

"It's already too serious, Stella. I love him."

Her hand left his in a hurry, her lips tight. "Ray, you can't mean that."

Smiling, Ray studied the serious features of her face, such a familiar face, the one face of his dreams until Fraser. "You've known me forever, Stella. When did I ever say something like that and not mean it?"

He might as well have slapped her, the shock almost immediate. "You really do love this man, this Canadian?" She said Canadian like she meant something slimy and green with eight legs and a stinger.

"Yeah, Stell, I do."

"Jesus, Ray, I can't believe this. Was everything we had together a lie?"

Startled, he shook his head, more hurt than angry. "A lie? How can you fucking ask me that? Nobody could love you more than I did, more than I still do. You were my whole life, and I would've died for you, almost died when you left me. You know that, Stella. You know me. How can you stand there and fucking ask me if it was a lie? How could you do that?" He closed his eyes tightly, but it didn't stop the traitorous tear that ran down the side of his face. He wiped it away, hoping like hell she didn't see it, but knowing she probably did. Stella always caught him crying or pissing his pants. No wonder she left him, big baby.

"Ray, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I know you loved me."

He swallowed hard and then opened his eyes, seeing the confusion, wondering what he could possibly say to convince her about his feelings for Fraser. "Remember how you used to say that it sometimes hurt for me to need you so much?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, Fraser doesn't mind. He doesn't get scared off because I love him that much."

"He might say that now, but it gets old, Ray. I liked it when we were kids, but I couldn't live with it forever."

"Me and Fraser, we're not kids. We know what we want, what we need. This is the real thing for me. Just be happy for me, okay?"

"Don't ask me to do that, not when you're giving up your whole family to do it. Not to mention, have you thought about how this is going to affect your job? I mean, you and I both know that even though there's not supposed to be discrimination against gay cops, there is. You used to complain about it." She stalled and tilted her head as she studied him a moment. "I remember how angry you got about Jay Conover being harassed and how surprised I was at thinking of you as being so open-minded about something like that."

"Surprised I wasn't a bigot? Gee, thanks, Stella, that makes me feel so much better, like you really knew who I was back then."

"No, I mean it. You know your dad used to throw those rants about faggots when we first got together and you never said anything, never really argued, so I just assumed you felt the same way. Then when Conover got harassed, it just surprised me that you went out of your way to help IA catch the guys. I know how much you hate IA, or the rat squad as you call them. Now it all makes sense."

"I was just doing my job. It wasn't right what they were doing. It had nothing to do with me thinking I was gay, too, so just forget about it. Me and Fraser, this is all new stuff."

"It can't be new stuff, Ray. You're almost forty. Surely you thought about other men before this."

"I didn't even think about other women before this, Stella, not really. Don't you get that? For being such a smart lady, you really miss the important stuff sometimes, the stuff that matters about a person."

Stella didn't respond right away, just stepped to the window and crossed her arms. "So, have you two done anything yet?"

"Done anything?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm asking about."

"That's none of your business."

"So, it's okay for you to follow me on dates, but I can't even ask about the man you say you love?"

"I'm not even going to argue about the whole dating thing, okay? I apologized for that. But about me and Fraser doing it, that's private."

Turning, she smiled. "You haven't. You haven't even gone to bed with this guy and you say you love him."

"We waited six years."

"We were kids and as you pointed out, you and this Fraser person aren't. What makes you think you can go through with it, especially after what you've been through." The words buzzed, her voice suddenly fuzzy and far away. "Ray?"

Stella stood by the bed, worried. He didn't remember her moving closer. Rubbing his temples, he blinked several times to clear his vision. "What?"

"What just happened?"

"I was listening."

"Listening? You weren't listening. You weren't even here."

"Be serious. I'm just tired and sometimes the drugs make it hard to pay attention. Anyway, I don't want to argue about me and Fraser anymore. Just be happy for me, Stella. Can't you just do that? I'd be happy for you if you found somebody who finally made you happy even if it was a cute babe."

Stella snorted and smacked him lightly on his good arm, but the smile never really got to her eyes. "Me with some cute babe is your fantasy, Ray, not mine." She sobered and took a deep breath. "I can't give you my blessing. It'd be a lie, but I do hope that it works out if that's what you really want."

"Thanks, Stella. It is."

"Listen, I didn't just come here to argue about ways you can mess up your life even more than it already is. I wanted to tell you that Jenson and the others involved in your abduction have all taken pleas on the kidnapping charges. With Clooney dead, that means you don't have to testify. As far as the state and the Federal government is concerned, this case is closed. You stay undercover as Vecchio and things go back to the way they were. The only bad part about all this is that the Feds lost their key witness against O'Malley, so the guy walks."

Ray shook his head, the small laugh almost painful. "The only bad part, Stell? Look at me with a straight face and say that."

"Jesus, Ray, I didn't mean it like that. I know it's been bad for you, too. I was just talking about it from the legal standpoints. I'm just glad you don't have to testify, glad you don't have to talk about everything that happened." She got that look again, that look full of pity that made him want to kick and scream and really knock some heads together.

His throat tightened. "I'm glad you stopped by, Stella, but I'm really tired. Fraser should be back any minute."

"You're asking me to leave?"

"Well, I could ask if you wanted to duke it out with Fraser, but I'm not in the mood for bloodshed."

"I still want us to be friends, Ray, no matter what happens."

"I want that, too."

"Okay, then, I'll go, but let me know if you need anything."

Ray nodded and reached out his right hand. They shook and then she leaned over and kissed his cheek just as Fraser came in the door. He stood stock still, the pudding cup in his hand, his face impassive.

Stella stood up straight and stepped over to stand in front of Fraser. "Hurt him, and your ass is mine, Constable. Understood?"

"Understood."

Grabbing the door, she waved good bye. "See you, Ray. Call me."

"Sure, Stell. Be good."

As soon as she left, Fraser moved to the bed and held out the pudding along with a plastic spoon. He didn't look happy. "I see the visit went well."

"I guess so." Ray took the cup and spoon, putting them on the table. "Thanks."

"You're not going to eat it?"

"I will later. Come here first." Ray extended his hand and waited while Fraser reached over and took it, holding it gently. He didn't meet Ray's gaze. "Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"Look at me."

Reluctantly, Fraser glanced up, his expression still unsure. "Nothing happened here. Nothing ever will. Stella and me, well, we're finished. It's just you and me all the way. Got that?"

"I think so."

"Think so? I need you to know so, Fraser, really in your gut, deep down, know it for sure know so."

The smile brightened the whole room, Ray's whole world. "I know so."

"That's good then. Now kiss me."

Fraser only hesitated a moment and then kissed Ray's cheek, the same spot as Stella kissed earlier.

"What rotten aim you've got there." Ray shifted and found Fraser's lips, so soft and hungry. His tongue tip pushed in and he loved the taste, loved the heat and wetness. He sucked and pulled Fraser's tongue into his own mouth, his cock waking up for the first time in ages. He groaned in frustration when Fraser pulled away.

"Ray, we need to stop. You're still in the hospital."

"We're just kissing."

Fraser patted his cheek as he smiled. "Ray, kissing like that can only lead to one thing."

"Oh, yeah, definitely. I'm all over that."

"But not in the hospital."

"Fuddy duddy."

"I do believe that would be Constable Fuddy Duddy to you, Ray." Fraser stopped smiling and then frowned. "Do these amorous intentions have anything to do with your visit with Stella?"

"You asking if I'm horny because I saw my ex-wife?"

"I wouldn't say it in exactly that way, but yes, I suppose I am."

"That's kind of insulting."

"I don't mean to be insulting. I'd just like to know."

"You would, huh? You think I'm all turned on because I fussed with Stella, is that what you think?"

Fraser shook his head, not looking at him again. "I don't know what to think, Ray. I must confess that I'm often befuddled when it comes to understanding the rather complex dynamic between the two of you."

"Befuddled?"

"Yes, Ray, completely."

"Don't be. I'm not horny because of her. I'm turned on because I was thinking what a wild thing it's going to be when we finally do it."

"Do it?"

"Yeah, Fraser, do it, and I hope you're not thinking I'm only talking about kissing."

Brow furrowed, Fraser studied him. "We need to talk more before we do anything, Ray."

"Talk?"

"Yes. You and I need to talk before we decide to do more than just kiss. It's important that we both know exactly what we want from a physical relationship. And, frankly, at this point, I'm not sure if you're ready for that step."

"You're saying you'd rather talk than do it?"

"I didn't say that. I said we need to talk first. You're still not healed completely. I don't want to rush into that part of our relationship until I'm sure that you won't have serious difficulties."

"Why would I have difficulties, Fraser, unless you're turned off by some stitched up freak who looks like he lost the title fight to Ali in his prime?"

"You misunderstand. I'm not the least turned off by your appearance, now or ever. Quite the contrary. Regardless, I can't discount your recent experience. I just don't want to do anything that might hurt you, Ray."

"You won't. I trust you."

"And I trust you."

"Then what's the problem? I mean, I put the moves on first and you're the one who stepped on the brakes. Seems to me you're the one who's got difficulties with this."

"I assure you the idea of having physical relations with you is anything but difficult. I just don't want to jeopardize your recovery."

"Let me be the judge of that, okay? I'll let you know when I'm ready." Ray slammed his fist into the blanket, suddenly angry. "Jesus, Fraser, why do you always have to make everything so difficult, so damn complicated all the time? It's not like I'm asking you to fuck me right here. I just wanted to feel good, not talk it to death."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I don't mean to make it more difficult, but I simply wasn't prepared for your sudden shift in behavior."

As Fraser reached out to touch him, Ray flinched away. "Don't. I'm tired."

"Certainly. Why don't you sleep a little bit and I'll just finish up some paperwork."

"That stuff Turnbull dropped by?"

"Yes. The man is hopeless sometimes."

Feeling contentious for no good reason, Ray snipped. "Turnbull's okay."

"Yes, Ray, Turnbull's okay."

Ray paused and then swallowed his wounded pride. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a head case. You're right. We need to wait."

"And talk, Ray."

"I guess this is probably when I should mention that I really hate talking about sex, Fraser. I mean, really and truly hate it. I'm not good at it. I mean, I'm good at sex, just not good at talking about it."

Fraser's face relaxed and he smiled. "It's okay, Ray. I've been told I'm good at talking."

"About sex?"

"About anything."

Ray laughed and shook his head in surrender. "Knowing you, you'll probably talk me into coming."

"I can certainly give it my best effort, Ray."

"Oh, now that sounds like a challenge." Ray's head shifted on the pillow as he stared at Fraser, his belly tight and his cock still nagging. "But I'll bet you could use that tongue for more than just talking."

Fraser blushed to his ear tips. "Ray, please."

"Please what?"

"Please settle down." He said the words, but his eyes told Ray he didn't mean it. "Now, you should probably rest. The doctor said he'd stop by right before dinner. He should be able to let us know if you're going home tomorrow."

"I'm going home whether he says so or not."

"Now, Ray, don't start. We've discussed this."

"I'm not starting. I'm just saying."

"Go to sleep. We'll talk later."

Closing his eyes, his cock still tingling, Ray dozed off thinking of all the ways Fraser could use that talented tongue all over his body.

Ray balanced the hard bend of his elbow on the arm of the chair. He tested the cast's weight and let it sway just a little from side to side, seeing how he could manage it with ease, handle it like it was an extension of himself. Funny how he got used it, learned to change its awkwardness to an advantage to keep his forearm elevated, his hand turned in toward himself. Weird how adaptation worked to make it easier to deal with almost any shitty thing over time.

"Ray, you're supposed to keep your arm in the sling."

"I'm just getting to know it."

"Know it?"

"You know, that Z thing, become one with the cast, like it's part of me and I'm part of it?"

"You mean Zen?"

"Yeah, Zen. I figure if I've still got to wear this thing for another week or so, I might as well learn how to make it work for me. Still can't figure out why they made it so damn heavy. Last time I broke an arm they used this lightweight stuff, very high tech and cutting edge. This time they used half a city block of plaster. Wonder why."

Fraser sat on the edge of the window sill, watching his every move, his face way too serious even for Fraser. "Have you broken a lot of bones, Ray?"

"A few." Suddenly uneasy, Ray shifted in the chair, trying to steal comfort whenever he could. "Last time this guy had me, I broke my right ankle and wrist trying to get free." Ray blocked out the invading images, the bone-popping sounds going off in his head. "The arm cast wasn't anything like this one though, just one of those little stream-lined jobs you see people get."

Frowning, Fraser crossed his arms. "By this guy, you mean Clooney?"

"Yeah."

Fraser hesitated a moment before he asked, "Ray, can you actually say the name Clooney?"

"No reason to. I mean, why should I say that prick's name?"

"Indulge me. Can you say the name?"

Ray closed his eyes. "I don't want to think about the bastard's name, Fraser, much less say it out loud. What's your point?"

"I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that I've noticed you never say his name even when you're discussing what he did."

"And I'm not going to. It's not that I can't, I just won't."

"Are you sure?"

Keeping his eyes closed, Ray took a deep breath, his stomach clenched. "You saying I can't? You saying I'm sick in the head about it or something?"

"If you don't want to say the name, you don't have to. It was just an observation. You haven't actually said the name since the night of the attack."

"And I'm not going to."

"You don't have to."

"I know that, Fraser, so shut up."

"Understood."

It stayed quiet a few more moments before Ray finally confessed. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Can't say it."

"I know, Ray."

Ray lifted his head and opened his eyes. "What's that mean, Fraser? Is that another one of those mental block things, like not being able to read the file? Is that why I can't figure things out?"

"What things?"

Shrugging, Ray avoided Fraser's worried gaze. "Like the doctor talking about all those tests, the ones he said I was negative for."

"You mean the tests for sexually transmitted diseases?"

"Yeah, I mean, I figured I was hurt like that over a year ago. I'd know if I was infected by now, right? Why run all those tests again?"

"It's standard procedure, Ray."

"Standard procedure?"

Fraser's voice tightened. "Ray, you don't have to worry about being infected because Clooney was negative. The doctor did the tests because when you were admitted, he didn't know that. It's just a standard procedure when a patient is assaulted like you were."

"A year later?"

"No, Ray like you were this time."

Ray stared at him, the words not sinking in. Confused, he shook his head. "I don't get it."

"I know you don't. You're not ready to get it."

"Ready for what? Stop talking in riddles, Fraser. I hate when you do that, treat me like we don't talk the same language. None of this makes any sense anyway." Ray ignored Fraser's sad expression and just kept talking, letting the spill of words spread out like a safety net all around him. "Doctors just do stuff and don't tell a guy why. Maybe it's an insurance scam. As long as the bills get paid, what the fuck do I care? Not my business. I just want to get out of here. He said we could go home in the morning. Can't be too damn soon for me."

Fraser nodded, pleased at the turn in conversation. "Yes, and you'll be glad to know that your apartment has been cleaned and your food stocks replenished."

"When did you have time to do that?"

"I didn't. However, the Vecchio women are quite resourceful. Mrs. Vecchio even had your sofa reupholstered by Cousin Vinnie and it matches the previous fabric quite nicely. She also made sure that your walls were repainted."

"Ma Vecchio did all that?"

"Yes, and Francesca. They're both quite fond of you, Ray." Too choked up to say more, Ray nodded and let Fraser continue. "As for your clothes, we'll eventually need to go shopping to get you some more appropriate gear for when we go to Canada. In the meantime, the sweat suits will meet your needs quite nicely. They're not binding on your wounds. They'll also be less difficult to manage when you need to attend to bodily functions."

"You mean when I need to go to the can?"

"Yes. Dealing with buttons or a zipper with one hand can sometimes be a challenge."

"Right. Makes sense." Ray rubbed his forehead, the headache starting in again. "What about my guns?"

"Your guns?"

"Yeah, my guns. I was looking earlier and I found my badge, but not the guns and holsters. Did you secure them somewhere else or do the nurses have'em? I figure I should know where they went so I don't forget them tomorrow."

Fraser shook his head. "Ray, you're on medical leave. Lieutenant Welsh has both your weapons."

"My back up, too?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"We thought it best at the time."

"But I'm on medical leave, not suspension. I need my guns back."

Fraser's voice softened, his face solemn. "You don't need your guns, Ray."

Suddenly it hit him like a hammer. Ray held up his good hand. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Are you saying that you and Welsh decided I didn't need my guns for a reason?"

"I'm saying you don't need your guns."

"Just like that, you decide, you and Welsh decide what the fuck I need?"

"Ray, calm down."

"I don't want to calm down. Don't tell me to fucking calm down. Just tell me you'll call Welsh and get my guns back. I know I can't have them here, but I want them at my apartment as soon as I get there. I feel naked without my guns, Fraser, you know that."

"Be reasonable, Ray. The lieutenant and I both feel that with the threat over, that you won't need to have your guns until you're ready to return to duty."

"That's not your decision to make. I'm not suspended, Fraser. I want my fucking guns back."

Fraser crossed his arms again, this time tighter, like bracing himself for what he needed to say. "I'm sorry, Ray."

Ray knew that stubborn Mountie look, usually took it in his stride, but this time it just pissed him off even more. "Sorry? Fuck sorry. You can't keep me from getting my guns. Besides, what is this? A conspiracy? You think I'm going to shoot somebody or something? The son of a bitch is dead. Who the fuck would I shoot?"

Fraser's eyes misted and then he blinked, fucking blinked. "Shit, Fraser. You and Welsh really think I'd do that, that I'd shoot myself in the head?"

"I must confess to being concerned, Ray."

"Concerned?"

"Yes, and then Dr. Reese suggested that we..."

"Stop right there, Fraser. Just hold your damn horses. You're saying, Reese told you guys to take away my guns? He told you I'm a jump off a cliff man, the kind of guy who walks in front of a bullet whether it's my gun or not? Is that what you're saying to me here?"

"Is it true?"

Ray met his partner's anxious eyes. "Is what true, Fraser? Is it true that I want to shoot myself, that I've ever wanted to do that?"

"Yes."

It took a second for his tongue to work right. "In the past, maybe. I can't say it's never occurred to me that I might be better off dead, but that's then, not now."

"What makes now different?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, Fraser." Ray leaned forward, his gut knotted and his throat dry. "You really think I'd off myself knowing what it'd do to you, to us? I've got a shot at the best thing in my life and you think I'd throw that away? That's crazy. I might be damaged, but I'm not stupid. I'd never do that, not now."

Relieved, Fraser sighed and reached out, touching his knee and then squeezing gently. "Dear God, Ray, I'm so glad to hear that."

Ray patted his hand and then sat back, trying to see the Fraser point of view, but still too pissed to completely get it. "I can't believe you'd think I'd do that. I mean, sure, Welsh, he's a cynical bastard and Reese, well, fuck Reese. I won't even say what I think about that asshole, but you, Fraser. I thought you knew me better than that. I thought you knew how much I loved you. I could never do anything desperate like that knowing how much it would hurt you. Don't you get that by now?"

"I do, Ray, and I'm sorry for ever doubting you. It's just Dr. Reese, well, I must admit, he can be rather convincing."

"Yeah, I know." Fraser's hand still rested on his knee, so Ray grasped it and drew it closer. "But it's okay now. You can get my guns back with a clear conscious."

"You mean conscience?"

"Yeah, that, too."

"It's not my decision. You'll need to convince Lieutenant Welsh and Dr. Reese."

Still holding Fraser's hand like a hard-earned prize, Ray closed his eyes and rested his head back against the tall back of the chair. "Welsh is no problem. He'll believe me, but Reese won't. Son of a bitch. He'll want to do this whole what are you really feeling routine, this whole you need to talk about it until you want to puke deal. God, I hate shrinks. There ought to be a law against having to deal with those pricks."

"Ray, he's just trying to help. Granted, he might be wrong about the guns, but he genuinely is trying to facilitate your recovery."

Releasing Fraser's hand, Ray dropped his cast sideways and put it in the sling. "What is it with you? Why do you always take his side? That's not buddies, that's not even right."

"I'm not, Ray. I just think..."

"Just think I need to see a shrink?"

The hesitation answered his question and Ray bit back what he really wanted to say about loyalty and being true to friends. Instead, he stood up slowly to avoid the inevitable spin. He made it to the edge of the bed and allowed Fraser to help him back up into a comfortable position, his body still protesting any sudden movement.

"Would you like something to drink, Ray?"

"I want my guns."

Fraser rubbed a thumb over his right eyebrow and sighed in resignation. "I'll do what I can."

Ray nodded, not adding that if he didn't get his guns back, there were plenty of places in Chicago to order up a gun faster than a pineapple pizza.

"Hurry up. I gotta go."

Fraser shifted the clothes bag to the other hand while he fiddled with the newly replaced lock. "Ray, I distinctly remember telling you to urinate before we left the hospital."

"This is so not the time for I told you so, Fraser. Just get the damn door open."

Without further discussion, Fraser did just that and Ray quickly rushed past him, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom. He didn't bother to shut the door, just pushed down the elastic band of his sweats, thankful for no underwear and that he left the toilet lid up. He pissed with his eyes closed, the relief immediate as his full bladder drained to safer levels. He finished and shook off before pulling up his sweats again.

Moving to the sink, Ray ran the water and washed his one hand before facing the mirror. He grimaced as he traced the yellowing around his eyes and the slightly crooked edge to his nose with his finger. Sighing, he licked his sore lower lip. He looked sick, felt sick, could've been a poster boy for what not to look like at the end of a gang fight.

"Ray?"

"I'll be out in a minute. Give me a sec."

"Certainly, Ray."

Swallowing hard, Ray moved slowly through his bedroom, noting the clean linens and the smell of fresh paint. Several new layers covered the bright red BITCH just under the off white acrylic. He knew it was still there even if he couldn't see it. He shuddered and closed his eyes, a rush of hateful images hounding him all at once, the hands, the fists, the knife slicing his throat.

Someone touched his shoulder and he jerked away, striking out with his good hand.

Fast reflexes protected Fraser, but just barely. "Ray?"

"Jesus, Fraser, don't fucking do that."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"You can't just sneak up on a guy like that. Fuck."

Suddenly lightheaded, Ray slumped down on the edge of the bed, Fraser's hand to the back of his neck, pushing his head down. "Take deep breaths. Slowly."

Eyes squeezed shut, Ray shook all over, his body drenched in cold sweat. After a few minutes, he relaxed slightly, his breathing almost back to normal. "Let go, Fraser. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let go."

Fraser released him and Ray sat back up. He took one long deep breath, fighting off the lingering queasiness. "I didn't expect that."

"What?"

"Being so jumpy."

"It's not unexpected after what you've been through."

"I know. I guess I just forgot how it gets sometimes. One minute you're pissing in the bathroom, being all normal, and the next you get ambushed by all this shit out of nowhere. It's like it's not safe to just stand still or think or do anything without worrying about going off the deep end."

"Is that what just happened, you got ambushed by memories of what happened with Clooney?"

Ray fingered the thin red line across his throat, the shallow cut one long scab. He whispered, "I only remember the first cut and then he licked the blood off and kissed me. I must have blacked out until he broke my arm. I remember that part. In between all that, well, I don't remember what happened. I mean, I see the cuts, but I don't remember any of it." He shuddered and closed his eyes. "I don't want to remember, but I know I need to. If I don't, this is going to keep happening, this stuff coming at me." He ran a hand through his hair. "God, I hate this."

"I hate it, too, Ray. I hate that you have to go through this."

The strained words brought Ray's head up as he met anxious blue eyes. "I'll be all right, Fraser. Don't worry so much."

"I can't help but worry, Ray. I want to help, but I feel so ill-equipped to do so."

"Not so ill-equipped." Ray cupped Fraser's face and studied the strong features. "God, I love you."

"I love you, too, Ray."

Using his forefinger, Ray teased Fraser's lips. "Thank you."

Fraser's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"For being here, for not pushing me unless you think I need it, for putting up with my bullshit even though I know you'd love to call me on my language. For being you, Fraser. Just thank you."

"You're very welcome, Ray."

"And very lucky."

"As am I."

"Yeah, right."

Ray pulled his hand away only to have it captured and held tightly by Fraser. "Don't do that. Don't make it sound one-sided, like what you give to me doesn't matter. I can assure you that you give as much to this relationship as I do. You always underestimate your impact, Stanley Raymond Kowalski. I just want you to know that I get as much out of being with you as you get from being with me."

"You do, huh?"

"Absolutely."

"I'd like to believe that."

"I don't lie, Ray."

"Except about me."

Surprised, Fraser's eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."

"You don't lie in general, but you do lie about me, about who I am. You know I'm not Ray Vecchio, but you go along with it. You have to admit, even if it's for a good cause, it's still lying."

Fraser shrugged, obviously disturbed by the observation. "I suppose if you look at it from that perspective, yes, but only to protect you as well as Ray Vecchio. I don't lie to you, Ray. Never. I wouldn't do that."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Even if I asked you to?"

Fraser pulled back. "I don't understand the question, Ray. Why would you ask me to lie to you?"

"I wouldn't. I'm just being hypo whatsamacallit."

"Hypothetical?"

"Yeah, that."

"Ray, hypothetically, I suppose if you asked me to, I would, indeed, lie to you."

"You would?"

"I'd do anything you asked me to."

The sincerity rocked him. "You'd do that for me?"

"I would, though I fail to see a circumstance when you'd want me to lie to you, Ray. Also, I'm not sure how useful that would be in the long run. Logically speaking, if you asked me to lie to you and I did, then you would know it was a lie. Therefore, it really wouldn't be a very effective falsehood."

"I'm not asking you to lie to me, Fraser. I was just asking if you would."

"I see."

"Do you?"

Perplexed, Fraser's forehead wrinkled. "No, not really. I think I understand, but not completely. I'm not even sure what we're talking about, Ray."

"I think we're talking about trust."

"Ah."

Ray rubbed his temple. "Please, Fraser, no ahhing. I'm not up to the ahhing thing. It makes my head hurt."

"Maybe it's low blood sugar. Perhaps you should eat something. Mrs. Vecchio has left an amazing amount of food in your refrigerator.

"I'm not hungry."

"Ray..."

"Don't start, Fraser. I'll eat something when I get up later. I promise." Ray motioned towards the living room. "Could you get my bag?"

"Certainly." Fraser fetched the bag and placed it on the bed. He frowned as he watched Ray pull out one of the prescription bottles. "Ray, you're not due to take more pain medication for another two hours."

"My arm's killing me. Besides, it's only a couple of hours. It's no big deal."

"Percocet is a narcotic, Ray."

"I know what the fuck it is, Fraser."

"Then you should know that it's important to follow the directions carefully."

"Jesus, it's just a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours too soon."

"God, you're enough to make a person crazy." Fraser didn't reply, just stood there looking at him in that terribly sad way only Fraser could manage so well. "Okay, okay. I'll just skip it. I guess I can stand it if I have to."

"I don't want you to be in pain, Ray, but people often become addicted to prescription pain medications without meaning to do so."

"And you think I'd do that, become addicted?"

"I think it's important to be alert to the possibility that anyone could become dependent, even you, Ray."

"But not you, right? Mr. Perfect Mountie couldn't fall for that trap." Fraser paled, not meeting his eyes, shifting uneasily as he stood in front of him. Ray wanted to smack himself for not seeing it before. Some detective he was. "What happened? Tell me."

Fraser walked to his bedroom window, looking out, his voice tight. "After Ray shot me, they couldn't remove the bullet."

"I know. That must have hurt like hell, huh?"

"At the time, the pain of betrayal and loss hurt far worse. You have to understand, Ray, I was in a very dark place. I loved Victoria, but she lied to me, used me. Ray Vecchio knew what she was and tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen. Then he shot me. My best friend and partner shot me. I couldn't quite take it in. Certainly it wasn't intentional and Ray apologized profusely, but it didn't help. As much as I tried to be intellectual about it, to distance myself from the reality of it, I didn't cope very well. Lying in the hospital bed, impotent, totally dependent, well, I must confess to a certain sense of despair I'd never quite felt before. They gave me Dilaudid. It helped. So I took it more than I should have, finding it disturbingly easy to acquire through several legitimate sources."

Lungs tightened as Ray tried to keep breathing. "Are you saying you got hooked on the stuff?"

"I'm saying I became dependent for a while. I managed to wean myself off, but it wasn't easy and it wasn't pleasant. It took a toll on my relationship with Ray. I blamed him. I knew I shouldn't, but I did. It took a long time to get over that." Fraser turned, met his concerned gaze. "You've been through so much. It would be very easy to fall into that trap as well."

"Yeah, Fraser, it would, if I were alone. But I'm not. You're here to call me on it if you see me fucking up. What amazes me is that you didn't tell me this before. Did Vecchio know?"

"He suspected, but we never talked about it."

"So you went through that whole thing alone?"

Fraser turned away again. "I had to. I was ashamed, Ray."

"Of what?"

"For being weak and self-indulgent."

"You think getting hooked after what you went through is weak and self-indulgent?"

"I don't want to judge other people, but in my case, yes."

"You're too hard on yourself, Fraser." Ray stood up and walked over to his partner, putting a gentle hand on his arm. "What brought you out of it? What made you stop?"

"Ray."

"Vecchio? I thought you said you and him never talked about it?"

"We didn't, but he needed me as a partner. I couldn't be a good partner while under the influence."

"So you kicked so you could keep working with Vecchio?" A jealous twinge tweaked Ray's heart.

"Yes. I knew that if I kept taking the drugs that I could get us both killed. I couldn't risk that."

"Because you love him?"

Fraser smiled and met his eyes. "Not like you, Ray, but yes, I do love him. I haven't had many close friends in my life and I couldn't risk losing one because of self-pity."

Ray dropped his head to Fraser's shoulder, his eyes closed. "You're stronger than you know, Fraser. I don't know many people who can just do that, give up drugs because it's the right thing to do. It's hard to do that when it's so much easier to just keep using and forget about it."

"Is that how it is when you drink, Ray?"

Sighing, Ray kept his eyes closed, the words easier when he didn't have to face Fraser. "I figured you'd mention that."

"I was worried about you."

"I know. Me, too. I get like that sometimes. I worry about myself when I do shit like that. I don't mean to do it, and then I'm there doing it, being stupid and doing exactly what I said I wouldn't do. So, yeah, you're probably right to be worried about the pills. I've got what you call one of them addictive personalities, or at least that's what one guy told me."

"By one guy, do you mean a psychologist?"

"Yeah, I was sober, but I made the mistake of telling the guy about some of my binges after one of my undercover ops." Ray lifted his head and settled on the side of the bed, pulling Fraser down to sit with him. "But I swear to you, I'll behave like nobody's business. You want to monitor the pills, that's okay with me. You want me to skip'em, I can do that, too. It hurts like a son of a bitch, but I can do it if you're that worried about it."

Fraser's voice softened. "I trust you, Ray. I don't want you to be in pain and the doctor prescribed them for a reason. I'm not saying don't take them at all. I just want you to be careful."

"I can do careful. I will. I promise."

Nodding, Fraser kissed him on the cheek and stood up. "Now, I think it's time you rested."

"You going to go pick up Dief?"

"After I unload the car, yes. He's at the station making quite a pest of himself while he's been waiting for your release."

"I'll bet. Crazy wolf probably ate every doughnut in the place."

"Indeed. He's getting to be a bit paunchy."

"Paunchy? Dief? A fur ball, maybe, but never paunchy. By the way, tell Frannie thanks for lending us her old Buick while my ride's in storage."

"I will."

As Fraser turned to leave, Ray added, "And my guns, Fraser. Tell Welsh and Reese I'm good for carrying. They can either suspend me or give them back and if they suspend me, I might not come back."

Stunned, Fraser studied him. "Are you saying you'd quit the police force over this?"

"If I have to. I'm tired of jumping through hoops, Fraser. They want me to protect Vecchio's ass, then give me back my fucking guns and stop dancing. If they don't think I'm emotionally fit to do the job, then I'm better off gone anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Just convince them, Fraser. I don't want to quit, but I won't be forced into a corner, either. I'm tried of being dicked around by Reese and his head games."

"I'll do my best, Ray."

"Yeah, Frase, you do that."

Ray waited until he heard the closing click of the door and then got up to get the prescription bottle. He stared at it long and hard before he walked into the bathroom, got a glass of water, and then tipped out one pill, one damn little pill that would make it all better. Minutes later, still gritting his teeth, he put it back in the bottle. He dropped the lid of the toilet, sat down, and lowered his face to his good hand. One fucking day at a time sounded like fucking forever, but he loved Fraser and a promise was a promise no matter how much he wanted to forget it, to pretend it didn't matter. But it did matter and he couldn't lie to himself, not about something so important.

Lifting his head, he found himself face to face with a silent and very worried Fraser watching him from the bathroom doorway.

"Ray?"

"Forget something?"

"Are you okay?"

"I didn't take it."

"I didn't ask that."

"I wanted to. I still do."

"I know." Fraser paused, his voice a whisper. "I don't have to go to the station right now, Ray. Perhaps I could lie down with you until you fall asleep?"

"You'd do that?"

"I'd love to do that."

"I think I'd like that."

Fraser reached out his hand and Ray took it, letting his partner pull him to his feet and lead him to bed.

Ray groaned as he tried to turn over and found he couldn't move, his left arm too heavy and painful, his head like concrete dried too soon. Opening his eyes slowly, he focused on the ceiling, realizing he lay in bed all alone, no Fraser. Damn. Wetting his lips, he moved and caught his breath, agony shooting across his upper back and shoulders. Keeping his arm still, he closed his eyes again and remembered the dream, the one where Dief obligingly ripped off his bad arm, no pain or fuss, just freedom from all the shit in his life for the moment.

Ray captured his left wrist with his right hand and then held the awkward cast still while he rolled to his side. He sat up slowly, letting the world settle, his body still weak and unsteady. Slipping the cast into the sling, he wiped his face with one hand, and then got up to go to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he washed and took a pill, hoping like hell it kicked in fast before he popped another one for back up.

Bracing himself against the wall, he made his way to the living room. Turtle's new tank gleamed from the living room window and Ray smiled that his old pet still hung in there after all these years together. Then for the first time he realized that things looked different, moved around, not the same old place. It wasn't just the missing mess, either. Everything sparkled, very clean and dusted, downright orderly, the way Stella would've made it, the way Fraser probably would, too, once he moved in.

Ray shook his head. Fraser. Moving in, being together as a couple, a couple of men living together. God. He'd deal with that later.

Settling on the newly covered sofa, Ray rubbed the smooth, tan fabric, nodding in satisfaction. Way to go, Cousin Vinnie. He'd have to look the guy up and let him know about it being a good job, let him know he appreciated it.

Ray closed his eyes and went back to thinking about Fraser, the man he loved, the man he wanted to be with. He couldn't quite fathom what Fraser saw in him, he just couldn't, no matter how hard he tried or how hard Fraser tried to explain it. A fuzzy mind didn't help much, either. Ray didn't complain. He didn't really want to think about it too much. If he did, he might panic and a panicking Ray could ruin everything, might make Fraser come to his senses. He couldn't risk that. He'd keep his mouth shut about how scared he was, about how he just knew Fraser would eventually leave him, go back to Canada without the crazy American guy in tow. Who wouldn't? Who in his right mind would put up with the shit Ray carried around with him these days?

Swallowing hard, Ray wanted a drink, not water, not soda, but a real drink, something to take the edge off. He got up and opened the refrigerator. He did a double take on the number of casserole dishes and bottles of juices that filled it. He never had that much food in the place, never. Ray smiled, thinking of the generosity, the love Ma Vecchio and Frannie shared so easily. He lost the smile quickly when he remembered his real mom and how she might send a Christmas card out if he got lucky and his dad passed out early so she could mail the damn thing.

Frowning, he moved stuff around and then slammed the door shut in frustration. He didn't know whether to cuss or risk breaking his other hand by ramming his fist through the wall. Fraser didn't really trust him, couldn't, not if he took away the beer like that. Fuck.

He checked the cabinets, too, no scotch, no vodka, nothing, not even mixer. Double fuck.

Anger made him light-headed. He settled in a seat at the table just as the door opened and Fraser walked in.

"Ray. You're up. How are you feeling?"

Dief padded to his side, leaping up, licking his ears and face like crazy. The bad mood shattered and Ray smiled. "Hey, Furface. Missed you, too."

"Dief, get down. I told you Ray doesn't need your unrestrained pawing."

The wolf ignored Fraser and just kept licking. "It's okay. It's good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. No problem." Greetings over, Dief settled down and then took up a position right next to Ray, sitting there watching his every move as Ray ruffled his fur. The comfort of the touch and obvious affection warmed him no end. He missed having a dog. Now he had a wolf, well, sort of. Fraser seemed good about sharing.

Fraser smiled and put the bag on the table. "You'll be pleased to know that Lt. Welsh agreed that you should have your weapons back." Fraser pulled out the holsters and guns and put them on the table.

"And Reese?"

"He's removed himself from the case."

"Removed himself?"

"Yes." Fraser sat down in the chair opposite Ray, his face suddenly more drawn and tired.

"Why?"

"He said it was appropriate. You were kidnapped from his office and perhaps another doctor would fit your needs better."

"I told you to tell him I didn't hold that against him."

"I did. However, since you each witnessed the other's extreme vulnerability, I believe he feels that event left a negative impact on your dynamic. Plus, he said he failed to establish a rapport that made therapy conducive to a full recovery."

"That wasn't all his fault."

"I'm sure."

Ray's head came up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, I know you didn't make it easy. You made it quite clear from the beginning that psychologists aren't your favorite profession, that you'd do your best to be resistant and combative. You accomplished that."

The tone of disapproval didn't go unnoticed. "You saying you think I was wrong about Reese? You think I should give him another chance?"

"What I think isn't really important, Ray. You can't very well make progress with a therapist if you don't trust or respect him, or as in your case, you're not willing to allow yourself to be honest about your problems."

"You think I'm not honest?"

"I didn't mean it as a criticism, Ray. You're a very complex person with a lot of difficult issues."

"Kettle black here, Fraser."

"Kettle black?"

"Old expression, the kettle calling the pot black?"

"Ah, the idea that I, too, am complex and suffer from various issues."

"Got it."

"Indeed."

"So what of it?"

Fraser shifted in his seat, avoiding meeting Ray's eyes. "I just think that whether it's Dr. Reese or some other professional, you're going to eventually need someone to help you deal with your condition. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is not something one can usually treat on one's own."

Heat rushed through his head like an angry fist. Ray came up out of his seat, just missing Dief as he stomped into the living area to pace. "He told you about that? The prick told you about that? What happened to that whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing? What happened to that?"

"Ray..."

"I'm serious. You want me to give this guy another chance and he's shooting his mouth off about shit like that? I don't believe this. I don't fucking believe it. He's got no right to do that, not even to you, Fraser. That's private."

"Ray, he didn't say anything about that."

Ray stopped moving and stared, suddenly confused. "Then how did you know that?"

"I've read a lot of literature on the subject. You exhibit many of the classic symptoms and behaviors. I'm no expert, but I would've been surprised by any other diagnosis."

"So you just assumed I'm nuts, is that it?"

"Having PTSD doesn't translate into being unbalanced, Ray."

"It does to me." Ray ran a worried hand through his hair and then sagged down on the sofa, deflated. "I mean, if that gets in my jacket, I'm fucked."

"Jacket?"

"My personnel file. No more undercover."

Fraser got up from the table and sat beside Ray on the sofa. Dief came into the room and leaped onto the chair opposite both men, dropping his face to his paws and watching them intently. Fraser kept his voice low and steady. "Ray, you're an excellent police officer. Undercover isn't the only thing you can do."

"But it's what I'm good at."

"Perhaps, but even so, doing more undercover work after this assignment probably shouldn't be your greatest concern right now."

"In other words, I'm too fucked up to worry about that now."

"I wouldn't express it in those terms."

"But that's what you meant."

Fraser didn't answer, but took Ray's hand and held it between both his own. "Lt. Welsh and the others at the station wanted me to convey their best wishes for your recovery."

Ray closed his eyes, deeply aware of how much he loved having Fraser hold his hand, having him make the first move. "Guess I should probably send them a thank you card or something for all the flowers and stuff, huh?"

"Already done."

Puzzled, Ray turned and met his partner's blue eyes. He could get lost in that look, that deep intensity that touched him when no other look could. "Done?"

"I sent the cards out for you this morning."

"And forged my name?"

"I wouldn't say forged."

"Faked?"

"I just thought I'd save you time, Ray."

Ray shook his head, amused at his partner's blush and excuses. "It's okay. I appreciate it. Besides, at least with you they can read the cards. My handwriting sucks."

"It is rather enigmatic on occasion."

"Enigmatic? What kind of word is that?"

"A perfectly fine word, Ray." Fraser squeezed his hand. "Are you thirsty?"

The brief spell of good humor melted away. "Yeah. I wouldn't mind a beer."

"You can't have alcohol when you're taking medication, Ray. It interferes with the antibiotics and intensifies the narcotic effects of the pain medications."

"And you didn't trust me so you got rid of all the booze, right?"

"Actually, I didn't."

"You didn't? You're going to sit there and tell me you didn't get rid of all the liquor in the place?"

Fraser moved away slightly, turning and staring at him intently. "I don't lie to you, Ray. I thought we established that earlier."

Shame flushed his face and Ray dropped his head. "I'm sorry. I know that. I just thought..."

"You just thought I didn't trust you and did a preemptive strike by removing the alcohol?"

"Something like that."

"Actually, Francesca took it."

Ray raised his head again. "Frannie?"

"Apparently, she knows you better than you think. She mentioned something about removing temptation."

"She said that?"

"I believe so, yes."

"You two talk about me and drinking?"

"No. However, I do think Francesca is much more observant than most people realize."

Ray slumped back against the sofa. He hated thinking about Frannie seeing him like that, thinking he had a problem even if he did. That wasn't the point. Frannie knew. Welsh suspected, probably knew, too. Bad enough Fraser worried about him like that. Now these others. He hated it. He rubbed his face with one hand and blinked to clear his vision, turning his attention back to Fraser. "Sorry about jumping the gun there."

Fraser sat still, too still, his face even more grim. "Why did it bother you to think I took the alcoholic beverages if you weren't going to drink?"

Sink or swim, know thy partner. "I guess because I thought you didn't trust me."

"You still didn't answer my question, Ray. Were you going to drink knowing that your doctor said not to?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I didn't get the chance to make that decision on my own."

"I see."

Ray swallowed hard. "See what?"

"See that my worries were not unfounded."

"Worries?"

"Ray, I love you."

"Okay. I get that. I love you, too. So why are you worried?"

"I love you, but I don't always understand you."

"And that worries you?"

"Immensely."

"If it's any consolation, I don't understand you half the time, either."

"That might well be true, Ray, but I'm not the one who seems bent on causing himself even more difficulties."

"You think that's what I'm doing, working myself over for fucking up and letting my partner and those other cops get killed?"

Fraser sat back, his eyes slightly wider. "Is that what this is about? You think you deserve to be punished because you survived when your partner and the others didn't?"

"No."

"No?"

Ray avoided Fraser's intense stare and shrugged as he picked at the edge of his cast surrounding his thumb. "Maybe. Could be. Couldn't say."

"I see."

"Look, I'm sorry about the whole jump on your case over the missing booze thing."

"This isn't about that or about you thinking I'd do such a thing, even though we will definitely come back to the trust issues later."

"You think I have trust issues?"

"Please, Ray, be serious."

"Okay, okay, yeah, I know I have trust issues. I admit it."

"Wouldn't do you much good to deny it. Might as well say it doesn't snow in Canada."

"Now, you sound like your father."

Fraser almost smiled, but refused the bait. He narrowed his focus. "Don't try to distract me, Ray. You can't solve a problem unless you acknowledge it. You need to understand the root of your guilt and expunge it so that you can stop doing things that will hinder your recovery."

"Expunge it? Is that like cleaning?"

"In a matter of speaking."

"If you're saying I need to stop drinking and moping around, I get that. I get that. I do. I should forget about all the nasty shit that went down and move on with my life. It's just that knowing something, saying you should do it, well, it's just not the same as doing it, you know? Easier said than done, way easier."

"But you can do it, Ray."

Vision blurred, Ray blinked several times, his voice choked. "Yeah?"

"Yes, Ray. You don't have to do this alone. We're partners, a duet." Ray closed his eyes, letting Fraser's strong arms gently move around him, his lover being extra careful of his wounds. Fraser pulled him close, his breath warm on Ray's skin. "If you hurt one of us, you hurt both of us."

"I never want to hurt you, Fraser."

"Then you have to stop hurting yourself."

"I don't mean to."

"I know, Ray."

Still leaning against Fraser, Ray took a deep breath, his body more relaxed. "You smell good."

"Thank you." Fraser petted his hair and then kissed him on the top of his head. "We can talk more about this later."

"Your smell?"

Fraser squeezed him gently for being a smartass and then kissed his head again. "Are you hungry?"

"In a minute." Ray wrapped his good arm around Fraser and sighed. "I can't believe this is real."

"Can't believe what's real?"

"You, me, us, sitting here like this. Go figure. I mean, what are the odds that two guys like us would ever end up, you know?"

"You know?"

"Yeah, you know, together."

"It's been my experience that the long odds often offer the largest gain."

Ray grinned to himself, his body aches suddenly less painful as he held his own prize, his very own long shot. "I'm all over that, winning circles, big pay off, it's all good."

"Indeed, it is, Ray. Very good."

Ray pushed his salad around the plate, not really hungry, but not willing to give up on supper just yet. "So, Fraser."

"Yes, Ray?"

"You got any plans for the evening?"

"I thought I'd spend time with you, Ray. You?"

"Same here. I was kind of thinking that maybe you could maybe move some of your stuff in."

"Move some of my stuff in?"

"Yeah, you know, like put a uniform in the closet, maybe put your toothbrush next to mine in the can?"

Fraser smiled, put his fork down, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Ray?"

"I guess I am. You okay with that?"

"I'm very okay with that. Would this be a temporary or permanent arrangement?"

Ray met his eyes, his chest tight. "I'd ask you to marry me if I could, Fraser. You know I don't do casual. You?"

His face suddenly more red, Fraser leaned in, his voice more husky. "I don't do casual, either, Ray, and yes, I'd marry you."

"I wish." And he did. Ray wanted so much to have that connection, that recognition that he and Stella had. He and Fraser deserved that. He hated that they'd never have it.

"When it comes to affairs of the heart, a civil document doesn't necessarily make the bond stronger. I've known many legally married couples who weren't nearly as committed as we are."

"Same here. So what are you saying, fuck that whole same sex marriage ban and just live together?"

Fraser pursed his lips. "I wouldn't phrase it like that, but essentially, yes."

Ray dropped his fork, got up, and walked around the table. He cupped Fraser's face and then leaned in, capturing his lips. Oregano and garlic flooded his mouth, Ma Vecchio's lasagna flavoring the kiss. He pulled back with a smile, relieved and happy that Fraser agreed to stay with him, to really be his. "Thank you."

Fraser hooked the back of his neck and drew him in again, this time more slowly. A tongue wrestled with his, the heat surging through his dick, his mind enflamed by the touch of this man who loved him. Pulling back, Ray whispered, "Bed?"

"Ray, we agreed we'd talk first."

"I thought we just did."

"I mean really talk. Besides, you're not ready."

Ray kissed him again and moaned into Fraser's mouth, his body heating up all over as he complained. "Come on, Fraser. I feel ready, ready in a really big way."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I'm not ready."

Ray stood up straighter, studying the serious face and the deep blue eyes that met his without faltering. "You're not ready?"

"No, not yet." Reluctantly, Ray nodded and then turned away. He slumped on the sofa and remained quiet while Fraser sat beside him. "Ray, listen."

"I'm listening. You say you're not ready, you're not ready. I get that. Even if it is bullshit."

"You're angry."

"I'm not angry." Ray wiped his face with one hand, his stubble burning his skin, his heart pounding harder than it should be. "You're thinking you have to move slow because old Ray here's a head case. Why should I be pissed about that?"

"I don't think you're a head case. I do, however, think it would be a mistake for us to try anything too physical for a few more days." Fraser touched his arm as he moved just a little closer, his husky voice right next to Ray's right ear. "You've still got bandages, still got a cast. You're still taking drugs for serious pain. I don't want to risk hurting you. I can't take the chance that I might forget myself and do that."

"Forget yourself?" Suddenly intrigued, Ray turned and met concerned eyes. "You're thinking you'd forget yourself and hurt me, like a get caught up in the moment kind of thing?"

"So to speak, yes."

Ray found a smile. "Okay, okay, I can go with that."

"You can?"

"Sure. I might forget myself, too, might forget and whack you a good one with Terry."

Recalling the strange American custom of naming parts of one's person, Fraser pulled back, almost afraid to ask. "Terry?"

Ray lifted his broken arm as an introduction. "Terry."

"You named your cast Terry?"

"Terry as in pterodactyl. I mean, you said that's what it looks like if you hold it up just right." Ray shrugged. "After you said that, I actually dreamed it flew off on its own one night."

"Did it take your arm with it?"

"Oh, yeah. Didn't hurt anymore after that, either. Demerol's good stuff."

Fraser ran his hand back and forth over the cast a few times, his face sad. "I'm sorry it hurts so much."

"You get used to it. Funny."

"What's funny?"

"How you can get used to almost anything with enough time. Like Mort."

"Mort?"

"I mean, he went through all that shit in the German camps and now he works on dead people. Hell, he likes dead people better than people walking around. It's just funny."

Fraser studied him for a moment before he nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Ray let his head fall back against the sofa. "I didn't mean to get all gloomy."

"You're not gloomy, just making an observation."

"Talked about Mort and dead people, Fraser. In my book, that's gloomy."

"You're certainly justified in your feelings, Ray, gloomy or not."

"Even so, I don't like to dwell on it. I try not to be a brooder, though it's rough when you can't really get out and do anything about it. Can't box, can't dance, no sex. It's just hard." He closed his eyes. "That's why I want to go to Canada. It'll be good for me, for us. I want to see where you live, Fraser, not spend time thinking about stuff I can't change. I want to see the future."

"You think your future's in Canada?"

"I don't know. Maybe. If you're there, yeah. I mean, the Canadians are bound to wake up and smell the coffee some day and want you back, right?"

"And you'd go with me?"

Ray opened his eyes to catch Fraser's surprised expression. "Did we not just do that whole I don't do casual relationships conversation? Didn't I just say I wanted to be with you forever like in forever married?"

"Yes, you did, Ray."

"So, what's that mean? It means I don't live in one country while you go off home to the wide open spaces. We stick together, two peas in a pod. Chicago, Canada, makes no difference to me as long as we're real partners."

"You'd really give up Chicago for me?"

Ray chuckled and playfully knocked a couple of times on Fraser's forehead. "Hello? You deaf? I just said that."

"But what if I want to stay in Chicago with you?"

Ray paused. "Do you?"

"I didn't say that. I just, I don't know. I feel a bit overwhelmed. I never expected..."

"What? Commitment? Devotion? Me, willing to freeze my ass off for love? What?"

Fraser's voice cracked. "Sacrifice."

Ray shook his head and sighed as he touched Fraser's lower lip lovingly with his fingers. "It's not about sacrifice. It's about putting the other person first."

"I understand that. Still, I never expected..."

"That anyone would do it for you."

"No, I never expected that."

Caressing the side of Fraser's face, Ray blinked back the sting of tears. "God, I hate all those fuckers who hurt you."

"Not everyone is as generous as you are with your caring, your love, your unbridled passion."

"Wait until I get well. I'll show you unbridled."

Fraser captured Ray's hand and held it to his cheek, his voice softer than a whisper. "I can hardly wait."

A warm blanket nudged in around his neck and Ray opened his eyes, all blurry. Fraser stood up straight beside the bed, towering over him. "Hey, Frase. What ya doin'?"

"I thought you might be cold, Ray."

"You tucking me in for the night?"

"You need your rest."

"Didn't mean to doze off like that. You were saying something about seals and polar bear princesses or something."

Fraser smiled, his eyes crinkled around the edges in amusement. "Not exactly, but close enough. Feeling better?"

"Feels good to sleep in my own bed for a change." Ray pulled the blanket down a bit and then worked to sit up. Fraser put out a hand and let him brace himself while Fraser fluffed the pillows behind him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Would you like some juice or some water?"

"I'm fine."

"You need to drink plenty of fluids."

"I know, but later."

"Certainly."

Ray rubbed his eyes and then looked over at the closet. "You get moved in?"

"I hung up my clothes, yes. As you know, I don't have a lot of material things to move from the Consulate. I told Constable Turnbull that I'd pick up the rest tomorrow. I will inform Inspector Thatcher of the change in my living arrangements as well."

Ray frowned and then patted the mattress beside him. "Have a seat." As soon as Fraser sat down, Ray took his hand. "So, are you going to tell Ice Queen it's permanent?"

Squeezing his hand, Fraser nodded. "Yes. To be quite honest, she might well be pleased to have me out of tight quarters. I get the impression that she somehow thought it unseemly for an officer to be residing there full time."

"You're so damn clueless."

Tilting his head, puzzled, Fraser studied him for a moment. "Clueless?"

"She didn't think it unseemly. She liked having you bunk in so she could just walk in whenever she wanted, no knock, no courtesy, no nothing. Might get a peek-a-boo Fraser show, some Mountie flesh to drool over. She liked having you around so she could push you around." The words came out tight and angry.

"Ray, she is my commanding officer."

"She pushes you around, Fraser, and treats you like shit, and you just smile and take it. Good thing I don't pop women, because believe me, I'd have popped her a good one already."

Fraser's eyes narrowed. "Ray, you've got no reason to be jealous of Inspector Thatcher."

Yanking his hand away, Ray did his best to cross his one arm. "Jealous? I'm not jealous. Don't go saying I'm jealous when all I'm doing is pointing out that she doesn't treat you like any boss I know, at least not the ones that don't want to get in your pants."

"You're suggesting that Inspector Thatcher wants to wear my trousers?"

Ray closed his eyes, his head dropping back hard against the pillow. "Fraser, Fraser, Fraser. You are not this dumb. You know she's attracted to you, and if I remember, you mentioned something about a kiss on a runaway train somewhere in the middle of nowhere. That tells me that she's got notions, notions that piss me off, but that don't make me jealous, just pissed off. Got it?"

"Understood."

A hand cupped his cheek tenderly and Ray opened his eyes to see a worried expression. "Sorry."

"For what, Ray?"

"For getting all crazy. I didn't start out to say all that."

"You must have been pondering the idea for some time."

"Well, yeah, maybe."

"Ray, even if, as you say, she wants to wear my pants, I don't want to wear hers. Any attraction I felt for her was overshadowed by our positions. She is, as I said, my commanding officer. Any sexual relationship would be quite inappropriate." Fraser stared into his eyes and spoke quietly, his voice soft and resigned. "And, of course, there's always the other complication."

"Complication?"

"The fact that I fell deeply and hopelessly in love with my American partner."

"Funny. I did the same thing, only my guy's Canadian."

"Small world."

"Not really. Big scary world." He swallowed hard, the confession difficult. "Doesn't seem so bad when we're together though. I mean, I like having my own Mountie."

"Just as I enjoy having my own personal detective." Fraser patted his face and then sat up again. "Now, you should drink something and then I'll help you change clothes so you can go to bed."

"I need to take a shower first."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"The doctor said I could shower as long as I don't get the cast wet. Come on, Fraser. I'm tired of those lousy sponge baths." Ray lowered his voice. "I need to feel clean again."

Hesitating slightly, Fraser finally nodded. "Very well, but I need to wrap the cast, take off the bandages, and then I'll take the shower with you."

Startled, Ray shook his head, confused. "I thought you said no sex yet."

"I said shower, Ray, not sex."

"But you'll be naked, too, right?"

"Yes, but I'll be there to help you bathe, not take advantage."

"And you expect me not to take advantage, either?" Ray shook his head, his face flushed. "I mean, think about it. You all wet and soaped up, all that hot water and your skin all slippery. Jesus. You can't expect me not to notice." Ray squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed, his cock making a huge fuss about thinking of Fraser running hot hands all over his body, touching him in all the right places, his fine mouth licking him clean.

"I'm sure you'll notice, just like I'll notice you."

Before Fraser could continue, Ray snapped. "Oh, I get it. You'll notice. I get it."

"Get what?"

"It's okay, Fraser. I don't blame you."

"Ray, I don't understand. What are you talking about? Blame me for what?"

"For not being turned on. I mean, I wouldn't get turned on, either, if I had to look at me in the shower. I didn't even think about that part." Ray used his fist to bang himself in the forehead to emphasize his point. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Fraser captured Ray's hand and pulled it down into his lap for safekeeping. "Just stop that. You're not stupid, but you are wrong."

"I'm not wrong."

"You're dead wrong."

Ray jerked his hand away, his lips thinned with anger. "Look me in the eye and tell me that me being banged up has nothing to do with you not wanting to have sex in the shower."

Fraser met his gaze easily. "Your injuries don't repulse me, Ray. They do, however, concern me. If I were afraid of losing control in the relative comfort and safety of the bed, imagine my fear of doing something to damage you in a slippery tub surrounded by hard ceramic tile. That's not the most forgiving or secure environment even if both participants are in prime condition, which is certainly not the case here."

"So you're not up for doing it because you're afraid we'll bust our asses, is that what you're saying?"

"That's what I'm saying."

Ray relented and relaxed a little. "It would be pretty humiliating to explain to the paramedics I cracked my head open because you were giving me a blow job in the shower."

Fraser blushed profusely and shook his head. "You fantasize about me performing fellatio in the shower?"

"Don't you?"

Glancing away, Fraser hedged. "Perhaps."

Suddenly in the mood for teasing and a little payback for going without, Ray pushed harder. "So what else do you think about, Fraser? What other dreams you got about what we're going to do when I get well enough to suit you."

Fraser wet his lower lip, still not meeting Ray's playful eyes. The words came out slow and breathy. "I think about you performing fellatio on me. You've got a beautiful mouth, Ray."

"Beautiful mouth? Me?"

"Oh, yes. I've admired it for quite some time now."

"You want me to blow you?"

Fraser cleared his throat. "Yes."

Ray nodded, strangely pleased at the admission. "What else?"

"I'd very much like for you to make love to me."

"Make love to you, as in you want me to fuck you?" Again, Fraser cleared his throat, but he didn't speak, just nodded. Ray stroked the top of his partner's hand with his thumb, his mind reeling and his cock getting hard and happy with the thought of doing Fraser. Oh, he could definitely see that, definitely wanted to be all over that picture perfect ending. He struggled to keep his voice calm. "You ever done that, Fraser? You ever have anyone do that to you?"

"Yes. Many times."

Stunned, Ray sat back. "Many times? Canadian times or American times?"

Fraser chuckled. "Definitely Canadian."

"Fuck."

Fraser shrugged and took a deep breath. "I haven't been completely honest about my sexual experience, Ray."

"Is this that sex talk you mentioned that we needed to have?"

"Part of it, yes."

"Did I mention that I'm not good at this?”

"You started it, Ray, and it is important."

Reluctantly, Ray surrendered to the truth and then squeezed Fraser's hand before releasing it. He shifted up on the bed, closer to the pillows, and got comfortable. "Okay, okay, I get that. You know about me, all my eggs in one basket, Stella. Now you."

"Now me." Fraser stood up and moved around the room, obviously nervous. Dief sat in the corner, lifting his head as he reacted to the new tension, his wolf face now alert. "It's not really an unusual story, Ray, but it is rather complicated."

"Complicated? You? I'm amazed."

"I suppose I deserve your sarcasm, Ray. I'm being melodramatic. I'm sorry. It's just that this isn't as easy as I thought it would be."

"Love never is."

"Well, it's not exactly love in every case."

Ray groaned, dreading what he might get to hear. "Every case? Just how many cases are we talking about here?"

"Victoria was the only woman I was ever with. You know about her. Before her there were two men, my best friend Innusiq and another man."

"You mentioned Innusiq before."

"Yes, Innusiq was my best friend and we shared many exploratory experiences. As we got older, he decided he wanted a family, an Inuit family with children. That's something we could never have if we stayed together."

"You saying he dropped you because you're white?"

"It was a mutual decision, and yes, being Caucasian might have been a problem for us even if I'd been female. Mixed marriages do occur, but there is still resistance to that in both cultures."

"That's not right."

"Perhaps not, but that's the way it is."

"Okay, so you and Innusiq, you fucked a lot?"

"Ray, please." Fraser sat down, his face solemn. "I'd prefer you not call it that."

"What? You don't like me using the word fuck?"

"Not in this case, no, or when we talk about us. I prefer to call it making love."

"Okay, okay, I can do that. So, you and Innusiq, you two make love a lot?"

"We were teenagers, Ray."

"Hormones raging, horny all the time, the guy right there, yeah, I get the picture. You did it a lot. But that doesn't sound complicated. Who was the other guy?"

"Ah, complication sets in. He was my first commanding officer, Inspector Joshua Bullweather."

"Bullweather?"

"Of the Bullweathers of Ottawa."

"Like there are lots of little groups of Bullweathers to choose from?"

"Well, actually..."

"Fraser, shut up about that. I don't care about where the guy came from."

"Understood.”

"Your commanding officer, huh?" Ray scratched his head. "I thought you said that would be inappropriate."

"It is and was, thus the complication. I'm also ashamed to say that my relationship with Joshua wasn't fueled by love so much as obsession and animal attraction. In the beginning, I found his romantic attentions both flattering and quite irresistible."

Ray wanted to kick the wall, but he didn't. He stayed still, kept his voice cop calm. "So, this guy was pretty hot, huh?"

"Physically, yes."

Ray didn't like the sound of that, Fraser's tone tingling his police instincts in a very bad way. "Physically? What are you trying to tell me, Fraser? This guy come on to you, treat you bad, tie you up and make you beg or something?"

"All of those things, actually."

"Shit."

Fraser snorted, still not holding his head up completely. "Succinct and to the point as always."

Ray sat up straighter, shaking his head, but not clearing it. "Let me get this straight. You're saying you let this guy, this commanding officer Bullshitwhatever, do bad things to you?"

"I suppose the operative word there is let, as in consent and granting permission."

"And you did that?"

Fraser hesitated, his eyes downcast, his face flushed much darker. "Only to a point. Joshua pushed past that point on several occasions. I've actually asked myself numerous times why I allowed him more than one opportunity to break my trust. Even now, so many years later I haven't come up with a satisfactory answer."

"What answers did you come up with?"

"Loneliness and a sense of worthlessness that seemed to be less overwhelming whenever Joshua praised me, even when those words came with a rather high price tag."

Ray hugged his own belly, the ache too deep to touch. "Loneliness I get, but worthlessness? Fraser, how could you feel worthless?"

"Sometimes seeing one's own value is difficult when others around you refuse appropriate praise or reinforce those negative images. I'm not making excuses, just trying to explain. Losing my mother at such an early age and living with my grandparents in the shadow of the man considered by most to be the perfect Mountie, well, that can be rather daunting to a child. As I got older, I found it problematical to try to live up to that kind of standard."

"But you do that every day."

"In your eyes, Ray. Not my own."

"Jesus. You really think you're worthless?"

"Not as much anymore, but I still have my moments."

"Son of a bitch."

Fraser's face looked wounded. "I'm sorry, Ray. I've disappointed you."

"Not you, bonehead, Bullshit Bullweather. He took advantage of the situation. I've met guys like him, men who find someone vulnerable to hunt down and use."

"I believe the term is sexual predator."

"And this guy f..., I mean this guy made love with you a lot?"

"Actually, you were right the first time. I never made love with Joshua. Still, I can't deny that there were times when I did enjoy it."

"You enjoyed being hurt?"

Fraser frowned and shook his head. "No, Ray, I didn't. The abuse and betrayal didn't happen until much later."

"I'm sorry." Wetting his lip, Fraser nodded and then sat down on the edge of the bed, way too quiet. Still, Ray couldn't let it go, had to know the rest of the story. "So, how did it end? How did you get this guy out of your life?"

"It ended badly. I tried to ask for a transfer, but Joshua wouldn't approve it. He got even more spiteful after he knew I wanted to end it."

"You could've filed a harassment suit."

"Much of what we did was consensual, Ray."

"Only takes one time, Fraser. You know that."

"Yes, I do know that. Still, as you've said before, it's far easier to say one should do something rather than to actually do it. It would've been almost impossible to prove my allegations, not to mention I would’ve been humiliated."

"Bet the asshole counted on that, too."

"I'm sure he did."

"But how did you get it to stop?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"Joshua found another interest, a woman whose name I won't mention. After he started the new relationship, he finally allowed my transfer."

"You're saying you put up with this prick Bullweather until he got tired of you?"

"I'm afraid so."

"And how long did this thing go on?"

"Seven months and six days."

"Damn it, Fraser, that just sucks."

"I'd have to agree. It was shortly after that when I had my first encounter with Victoria. It seems my thirst for self-destruction hadn't quite ended." Ray sat there staring, his mouth slightly open, not sure what to say. Fraser saved him the trouble. "So you see, Ray, I'm not a perfect Mountie, not even close."

"Knock me over with a feather, color me stunned. It's hard to take in."

"I understand."

"No you don't. You don't even see it."

"See what?"

"That you're as messed up as I am, that you got abused, too."

Fraser frowned in confusion. "Are you comparing my relationship with Joshua to what happened to you with Clooney?"

"Well, I'll admit it's not exactly the same. I never got wined and dined in the beginning, but abuse is abuse." Throat dry, Ray forced himself to keep talking. "Last year, right after he killed Ricky, he hurt me, hurt me like nobody should ever hurt another person. I never really said it out loud or talked about it, and that hurt, too, hurt like hell to keep it all inside, to cover it up like it never happened. But it did happen, just like Bullweather happened."

Ray choked on his next words, closing his eyes, afraid to chance the light even a little bit. "And I'm afraid, Fraser."

Fraser palmed his hand over his heart. "Afraid of what, Ray?"

"Afraid it happened again and I can't even remember."

Fraser didn't say a word, just pulled Ray into his arms and held him until the tears and shaking ended, letting fitful sleep finally move in and take over.

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray."

"Has anybody said anything?"

Fraser turned from doing the dishes and wiped his hands on the towel. "About what?"

"About us."

"Ah."

"Don't go ahhing again. It's too damn early in the morning."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Ray."

"How about a straight answer. What are people saying about us?"

Fraser frowned and stepped closer to the sofa. "What do you expect them to say?"

"That's a question, Fraser, not an answer."

"But it's a valid question."

"That's not the point." Ray shifted on the sofa, his left arm driving him crazy, the itching, the pain, and it never fucking stopped. "I'm just asking because I was thinking that we should probably talk about whether or not we want to say anything, like make it official."

"Official?"

"Yeah, you know, tell people officially that we're together."

Fraser bit back an ah and stepped around Dief, who never wandered far from his partner's side since his release from the hospital. He sat in the chair across from Ray to face him. "How do you feel about that, Ray? Do you want to tell people?"

"I don't know. I'm just trying to get a feel for what you feel."

"Well, I feel comfortable with people knowing if you do."

"God, we're so fucked."

Fraser frowned. "I don't understand."

"We're fucked because I don't know if I want to say anything or not. I mean, look what happened with my folks."

Fraser got up and moved to the sofa, his thigh butted up next to Ray's. "I'm sorry about your parents."

"I know."

"I wish there were something I could do to convince your father that our love isn't unnatural."

"Unnatural?"

"That's one of the terms he used."

Ray snorted. "Oh, yeah, I'll bet. I'll bet he used a few other choice terms, too."

"Well, yes, but he was upset at the time."

"Don't make excuses for him, Fraser. I love my dad, but he doesn't make it easy when he's such an asshole."

Fraser nodded, his elbows on his knees, bracing him as he leaned forward. "It's been my experience that fathers can be very human in their shortcomings."

Ray studied him, Fraser's eyes staring off, lost in his own past. "Your dad gave you a hard time, huh?"

"Not so much a hard time as an unrealistic expectation for both him and myself. It's only been since his death that I've actually come to know him and to learn that he loved me."

"You didn't know that before?"

"No, I didn't. I knew an image of my father, but not the real man and he certainly didn't know me."

"I'm sorry." Ray sighed and rubbed the back of Fraser's neck, the heat electric and tingly against his fingers. Fraser moaned at his touch and relaxed into it.

"You know, Ray, it's been a relief that you've seen him, too."

"Why's that?"

"Well, it makes me think I'm not totally unbalanced."

Chuckling, Ray squeezed Fraser's nape and then released him. "You, unhinged, because you talk to a dead guy? Never happen. The old man and his little visits? That secret's safe with me."

"That's good to know." Fraser lifted his head and met Ray's eyes, his expression serious again. "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Did your father always have such a negative opinion about homosexuals?"

"You mean was he always such a homophobic bigot?"

"Something like that, yes."

"As far back as I can remember."

"Did he make it a practice to share his views when you were younger?"

Ray sat back, sighing heavily, not really wanting to talk about the secret, but knowing he should. "My dad's brother was gay."

"Your uncle?"

"Yeah, my Uncle Davey."

"I didn't know that."

"I'm telling you now." The words came out strained, too snappish. "Sorry. I just have a hard time talking about it. I liked Davey, but Dad, well, Dad wouldn't let him in the house. Went on and on about the sins of being a faggot, about how Davey was going to burn in hell, and how nasty it was. Did I mention we were raised Catholic?"

"Yes, you did, and I'm sorry."

"That we were raised Catholic?"

"That you were raised with such prejudice."

"Yeah, well, I tried not to let it get to me."

"But it did."

"Sometimes, but fighting with my old man, well, I might as well kick myself in the head and be done with it. Waste of time. Anyway, Davey died when I was about fourteen. I didn't get to see him much, just when something happened where the whole family got together like a wedding or funeral. I remember people used to talk so bad about him, said he shouldn't even be there, called him those ugly names when they thought I couldn't hear. But you know me, Big Ears Stanley."

"You called yourself Big Ears Stanley?"

"No, Fraser, that's just an expression. I had big ears."

"I love your ears, Ray. They're proportionally quite pleasing."

"Thank you, I think, but I meant that I heard everything I wasn't supposed to hear because I was nosey. I always wanted to know what was going on even as a kid. Curious should've been my middle name instead of Raymond."

"It would certainly be most fitting."

"You bet. Then there were those people like my Aunt Rita who loved Davey, made sure to stand up for him. Boy, did Rita and my dad go at it sometimes."

"Is your Aunt Rita still alive?"

Ray glanced up. "Rita? Yeah, sure. She lives in Florida. Never really sees my dad."

"What about you? Don't you see her?"

"Fraser, I've lived pretty much undercover off and on for the last eight years. I haven't really had time to see her." Ray shrugged. "Might make time now. At least she probably won't disown me if she finds out."

"So, is it your belief that your father's extreme reaction to our relationship is a direct result of his negative relationship with his own brother?"

"Maybe, but more likely he just bought the whole anti-gay shit from the church. I mean, I love you, Fraser, but I'm so glad I met Stella first."

Taken aback, Fraser turned, his face suddenly pale. "What?"

"Think about it. I'm almost forty and I'm having trouble dealing with what others think even now though I know I shouldn't give a shit. I mean, I know that I should just worry about what I think. The thing is, I couldn't have done this at all back then, not as a teenager." Ray swallowed hard, his gut all knotted. "I don't think I could've handled it. I would've been on the streets or something worse."

"Something worse?"

"You know."

"Know what?"

Ray wet his lips and closed his eyes. "Did you know that a gay teenager is ten times more likely to commit suicide than a straight kid?"

Fraser stayed quiet until Ray opened his eyes. "Are you saying you would've committed suicide if you'd realized you were gay as a teenager?"

"Yeah, maybe. I could handle Stella even if she was way too good for me. I could handle all the ribbing I took for trying to nab some girl out of my league, but being gay? I don't think so." Ray paused. "How did you handle it, Fraser? When you were with Innusiq, did you ever think about shit like that?"

"No, not when I was with Innusiq."

Ray sat forward. "But you did with Bullweather?"

"And with Victoria."

Ray took his hand and squeezed it for comfort. "Jesus, Fraser."

"I'm fine now, Ray. Don't worry. I only allowed myself an occasional wallow in self-pity, but I can certainly understand the state of mind that would lead one to commit such a desperate act."

"Did you ever talk to anyone about it?"

"I'm talking to you."

"What about Vecchio? Did you ever say anything to him?"

Fraser shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Ray Vecchio would be the last person I'd talk to about my feelings for another man."

Tugging Fraser back closer to his side, Ray nodded. "I take it he'd freak if he found out the guy playing him announced he was shacked up with his Mountie."

"That's putting it rather mildly."

"You don't want him to know then?"

"Not until his assignment is over. Even then, well, I need to be the one to tell him."

"You think he'll flip?"

"Flip?"

"You know, go nuts, go postal, have a cow?"

"I seriously doubt he'll have a bovine, but I'd be surprised if he's very accepting. Ray has many good qualities, but I'm afraid tolerance of homosexuality isn't one of them. Plus, there's the added complication of Ray thinking I didn't trust him enough to tell him of my proclivities in the first place."

"Proclivities? Sounds like you've got a rash or something. The thing is, will he get over all that or will he be an asshole like my dad?"

"I hope he'll accept it and be happy for us, but I honestly couldn't say."

"If he's a real friend, it won't matter."

"I hope you're right."

"Still doesn't answer my question. Do we tell people or not?"

Fraser sat back up and sighed. "You asked earlier what people were saying about us."

"Yeah?"

"Well, do you want to know what some people are saying or just the views of the people who know us fairly well and care about us?"

"Damn. Hard question." Ray held up a hand. "Okay. Okay. Let me guess. Some people are saying we're fags and aren't happy about having queers on the force, some people being guys like Grayson and Peters down on first."

"And Detectives Riley and Johnson in Vice."

"Figures. And the rest."

"The rest are just happy you're alive. I'm fairly certain Lt. Welsh and the other detectives of the 27th are aware of our changed status, but they've not said anything negative within earshot."

"Nothing?"

"Not really. Francesca still seems oblivious to the changes in our partnership, but otherwise, most people seem rather accepting."

"Business as usual?"

"Apparently."

Ray scratched his head, slightly bewildered. "Queer."

"Excuse me?"

"It's just queer that they don't seem to mind."

"You do realize that Chicago has a fairly progressive policy about homosexual officers. Perhaps that official stand has helped bring a more open acceptance of alternative lifestyles within the ranks."

Ray snorted with dark amusement. "Not hardly, Fraser. I've been in the ranks and it ain't pretty if you're gay. No, this is something different. Maybe it's one of those don't ask, don't tell things. We don't say anything, and they don't mention it, either. Then nobody has to deal with it. It's sucks, but it's better than a dildo shoved in your locker or cocksucker sprayed on your car."

Puzzled, Fraser studied his partner. "Are you referring to incidents that have actually happened or are you just using your rather colorful imagination?"

"I've seen it, Fraser. A guy named Conover got that and more done to him at the one seven. I worked undercover for IA to catch the guys who were doing it. Believe me, I was grateful to leave the place when it came out that I'd ratted out the fuckers who harassed him. The other cops were more angry at me than them. That's what I'm saying. It gets ugly sometimes because attitudes like that haven't changed and haven't been called off like they should've been years ago."

"Then perhaps the best course would be to continue as we are."

"No official announcement then?"

"But no denial."

Ray nodded. "Got it. They ask, we'll tell, but we ain't going to give them the starting gun."

"Sounds reasonable. Now, would you like some pineapple juice or more coffee?"

"More coffee, thanks."

Fraser stood and picked up Ray's mug from the coffee table before heading back to the kitchen. Ray watched him, pleased and warmed by his presence. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Love you."

Fraser smiled that million dollar Mountie smile. "I love you, too, Ray."

"Not just symbolically or something?"

"In every way."

"Oh, yeah, that works."

A sudden knock and Dief's bark erupted at the same time. Ray jumped back just as the full coffee mug crashed and shattered all over the floor. "Fuck."

Dief yapped some more and bounded to the door as the knocking kept getting louder. Frustrated, his heart racing, Ray moved around the mess and walked over behind Dief. "Who is it?"

"Open up, Vecchio."

Frowning, still wired, Ray unlocked the door and opened it. "Hey, Lieu. What's up?"

Lt. Welsh studied him with that sober look he had, the one that made Ray really uneasy. He held a folder in one hand and had a coat draped over his other arm. "I heard a noise. You drop something?"

"Coffee. Come on in." Welsh followed him into the apartment and waited while Ray locked the door again. Dief sniffed at Welsh, got the inevitable pat, and then curled himself back on the rug beside the sofa, his eyes still watchful, but less wary. Ray motioned to the spill and shards in the kitchen. "Be careful. I've got to clean this mess up."

Frowning, Welsh shook his head. "Sit down. I'll do it. Where's the broom?"

"It's my fault. I can do it."

"Sit, Kowalski. I've got this." Reluctantly, Ray obeyed and sat at the table, his head pounding. He watched as Welsh put his coat on the back of a chair and dropped the folder in front of him. "Broom?"

"Beside the refrigerator."

Welsh fetched the broom, dustpan, and some paper towels and proceeded to clean up the spill and mug fragments. "I take it the good Constable's not here at the moment."

"Look around. See any red?" Welsh's head came up in response to the surly tone, his eyes narrowed and focused on Ray. Ray swallowed hard. "Sorry. I'm just a little jumpy. Didn't expect company."

"I can see that."

They remained quiet until Welsh finished clearing up the mess. He washed his hands quickly. "Since I interrupted your last cup, would you like some coffee?"

"No, but help yourself."

Instead, Welsh shook his head and settled in the chair across from Ray. "You look like shit, Kowalski."

"Thanks."

"I mean it. I expected you to look better, not well, but better. What's going on?"

Ray couldn't look up, couldn't meet his eyes. "Nothing. Same thing. What do you want me to say?"

"The truth is usually a good start."

"I thought it would be better once I got out of the hospital."

"What?"

"Everything. I can't seem to settle down." Ray rubbed his hand over his hair, making it stick up even worse than before. "I can't get my head straight."

"You sleeping?"

"All the time, not at all."

Welsh's face got even more serious. "Bad dreams?"

"Whoppers."

"You talk to Constable Fraser about it?"

"Yeah. Mostly."

"Does it help?"

"Sometimes."

"You don't tell him the whole story though, right?"

"Hard to. I don't even know the whole story."

Nodding, Welsh pushed the folder closer. "You've got some papers to sign. It's for your leave time. I've also included a list of doctors I want you to consider."

"Doctors?"

"I'm sure Constable Fraser informed you that Reese removed himself from the case."

"Yeah. He didn't have to do that."

"True, but he had his reasons. The point is, you have to see somebody before you return to active duty." He didn't pause long enough for Ray to protest, just kept talking, the words bulldozed together. "I took the liberty of scouting some recommendations. I placed a star by the ones who specialize in trauma cases, especially for police officers." Welsh tapped the top of the closed folder. "It might help to start seeing someone before you head off to Canada. Regardless, at some point, it's standard procedure after an officer is seriously wounded to be evaluated and cleared first."

Ray didn't touch the folder, moved his hand back. "You come here to tell me that, to tell me I have to see another shrink before I can get my job back?"

"Partly."

"Partly?"

"You're a good detective, one of the best I've ever worked with. I don't usually say this kind of thing, but Vecchio's going to have a hard time living up to the job after you."

Ray's throat tightened at the praise. "Thanks, sir."

"I'm not finished. The thing is, I'm good at my job, too. I've been doing this a long time so I've seen officers come and go, the good and the bad. I'll admit in the beginning, I was skeptical about how this operation would play out. You've got an attitude, Detective, a bravado that actually works in your favor. That's not something everyone can pull off. You're cocky, quick-tempered, and headstrong, but you're also smart, honest, and entirely too tough sometimes."

"Too tough?"

"That's what I said, too tough. You think you have to be strong and never falter, put on a brave face. Believe me, as a cop I understand that mindset. Show a weakness in this line of work and some scavengers will have your proverbial ass for breakfast. Still, a good cop also has to recognize when he's got a problem or he could get himself killed." Welsh fisted his hands together on the table and leaned in. "It's not just about you. It's about all the people you work with, too, including Constable Fraser."

Ray held his head in his upraised hand. "You don't think I know that, that I don't get that?"

"Knowing something and doing something about it are very different things." Welsh hesitated, took a calming breath, and then continued. "It's hard for anybody, but especially a police officer to admit he needs help. We're supposed to protect people. We have all these heroic images and lofty ideals we're supposed to live up to. We're on the front line. Hell, we are the front line. Too many times one of us gets hurt doing the job, gets hammered trying to keep people safe. It takes a very brave man to admit that he needs help with the emotional fallout that sometimes comes with that. I know it's difficult, but I also know it's necessary."

Ray hated the words, hated the truth behind them. "I'll think about it."

"Do more than think about it. I'll leave the papers here for you to read through and sign. You can have the Constable bring them by the station later on."

Nodding, Ray ran his fingers over the edge of the folder, still not meeting Welsh's concerned eyes. "Sure."

"You need anything before I leave? Coffee, something else to drink?"

"I'm good."

"You're anything but good right now."

Ray bit his lower lip, wanting to snap back, knowing if he did he wouldn't stop. He'd start ranting and give the Lieutenant even more fuel to believe he'd gone batshit crazy. Instead, he kept his voice level and practiced his cop voice. "Thanks for bringing the forms by."

"You're welcome. Say hello to Constable Fraser. Sorry I missed him. At some level I'm sure I would've enjoyed the encounter."

Welsh got his coat and headed to the door, Ray moving slowly behind him. "Sir?"

Welsh turned. "Yes?"

"Thanks for what you said, you know, all that stuff about me being a good cop."

"Just don't get yourself nearly killed again so you can hear it one more time and you're welcome."

"Don't worry about me, Son. I was thinking about pulling up stakes anyway. Stay in one place too long and one can miss the opportunities elsewhere."

Fraser turned from his desk and stared at his father standing in his closet doorway. He continued folding the bedroll, unperturbed by the sudden appearance. "I'll still be working here as long as I'm assigned to Chicago."

"Won't be the same."

"I'm sure Ray's apartment has plenty of space for an office."

"Oh, I'm not so sure, Son. Seems a might too crowded for the three of us. An in-law shouldn't overstay his welcome. Lonnie Deerstalker can attest to that. His mother-in-law stayed until the man nearly went mad. Just got up one morning and walked around half-naked, mumbling about fried eggs and biscuits in the middle of a snow storm. Wouldn't want it to come to that."

"Ray likes you."

"The Yank is a good man, Benton. At least you've abandoned convention for a faithful and trust-worthy partner. There's something to be said for choosing what best suits us rather than going along with what society dictates. I'm not saying that we should all run off and flaunt tradition, but I won't deny that I'm proud that you didn't pick someone outrageously inappropriate this time."

Fraser took a deep breath and he closed his duffel bag. "Did you know about Bullweather?"

"The man should be horsewhipped and drummed out of the service. His abuse of power was disgraceful. "

"Then you knew?"

"Not until after the fact, no."

"Would you have believed me if I'd told you?"

His father stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back, but his eyes meeting Fraser's. "Death brings a person a whole new perspective on life, Son. At the time I must admit I was ashamed of both you and Bullweather. I didn't understand my part in the path you traveled."

Fraser's face flamed. "I made my own choices."

"I won't debate that they were your choices, bad ones."

"No question."

"Still, if I'd shown you more attention, perhaps you wouldn't have made certain decisions that led you to that miserable relationship. I can't claim to be completely blameless. For that, I'm truly sorry. I should have been there to be a better parent." Fraser remained quiet, overwhelmed by his father's unexpected admission. He blinked back the mist that blurred his vision. "Perhaps that's why I'm still here."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm still bound to this earth for some reason. Perhaps it's to be the parent I should have strived to be when I was alive."

Fraser studied his father's serious features. "You're being a supportive parent now if that's any consolation."

"Thank you kindly, Son. You certainly don't make the task easy."

Shaking his head in amusement, his response to his father's parting shot stalled with a knock at his office door. His father evaporated and Fraser turned his attention back to the living. "Enter."

"Sir, it's nice to see you."

"Thank you, Constable Turnbull. It's nice to see you as well. What can I do for you?"

Turnbull smiled, turning over a small package in his hands nervously. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you on your arrival, but Inspector Thatcher had me running some crucial errands."

"Dry cleaning?"

"And leather repair. Mr. Cruthers’ has a very reliable service."

"Right you are."

"At any rate, I wanted to inquire if you needed my assistance in packing."

Fraser motioned at the duffel bag. "Things are well in hand, but I thank you for the offer."

"You're quite welcome."

"I wanted to inquire as to the health of Detective Vecchio."

"As you know, he's out of the hospital, and while he's far from a full recovery, he's doing much better. Thank you for asking."

Turnbull stood there several long moments after Fraser finished speaking, still using the box in his hand like a spin toy.

"Turnbull, is there something else?"

Embarrassed, Turnbull blushed. "I'm sorry, sir. Woolgathering."

"I can see that."

Turnbull held out the package. "I wanted to ask you to deliver this to Detective Vecchio."

"You could do that yourself."

"Oh, no, sir. I wouldn't want to impose." Turnbull refused to meet his eyes. "It's just a token, something to show my friendship and my best wishes for his recovery."

Fraser took the present and nodded, knowing that it stood for far more than friendship in Turnbull's eyes. A part of him sympathized with his colleague's heartache, while another part danced with glee that Ray didn't go for tall, sweet, and addled. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it. I'll give it to him this evening."

"Thank you kindly. You must be excited at moving into a new abode, sir."

Fraser nodded as he put the package into one of the outside pockets of his duffel. He considered the drastic changes in his life, sleeping with Ray, cleaning up the clutter, kissing Ray whenever he wanted. He smiled at the prospect. "There will be some adjusting to be done, but Diefenbaker will have more space."

"It's especially fortunate that Detective Vecchio will have you there to aid him through his convalescence as well."

"Indeed."

Turnbull wet his lips, his hands anxious as he played with the papers on Fraser's desk, straightening the neat piles into the same neat piles. "Sir, I processed the application for your extended leave, and please don't think I'm being too forward for asking, but are you taking Detective Vecchio home with you on your vacation?"

Fraser paused, considering his answer carefully. "Actually, Ray wanted to see my father's cabin. I'm taking him there during his recovery."

"Please don't take this as a criticism, sir, but are you sure that's a sound decision? Normally, Ray, if I may call him Ray, is quite fit and more than able to stand the rigors that our native land sometimes dictates, but he did just get out of the hospital and it is December."

Fraser crossed his arms, irritated at the question, his patience tested. "Constable, I appreciate your concern, but do you really think I'd endanger Ray's health?"

"No, sir, not normally."

"Not normally?"

"Yes, sir. It's just that, if I may say so, and with all due respect, when it comes to your partner, you sometimes take risks that you might not otherwise consider. If Ray asked you to take him to our homeland, for whatever reason, I believe you would do so even if that might not be in his best interest."

Startled by his colleague’s rather keen and unsettling observation, Fraser frowned. "You're saying you think I'm not entirely objective when it comes to Ray's wishes."

"Exactamundo, sir. Ray blinds you."

"Blinds me?"

"With love, sir. We should all be so fortunate."

Turnbull left the room before Fraser could say a single thing to dispute or thank him.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Disgusted, Ray dropped the package on the bathroom counter and slumped onto the toilet seat. Sitting in the dark, he shook his head in frustration and started in again. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"Ray?"

Fraser's voice interrupted his rant. "In here, Fraser."

A few moments later, Fraser stood in the bathroom doorway. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened, not a damn thing."

Rubbing his eyebrow, not the least bit convinced, Fraser flipped the switch and got no light. "I see the bulb needs to be replaced."

"Which I was trying to do, but you ever tried to change one of those things with one hand? You can't get the fucking cover off without dropping it."

"I see the problem."

"Yeah, tell me about it. They do it on purpose. Why is that? It should not be some big fucking deal to change a light bulb."

"It's easily fixed, Ray."

"I wanted to do it." Even to himself it sounded pissy, but he didn't care, just didn't.

"Perhaps a compromise is in order."

"Compromise?"

"Yes, a concession as to how to solve the problem."

"I know what a fucking compromise is."

Fraser stepped closer. "I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to imply that you didn't. I just meant, perhaps I can change this bulb and you can change the next one when you're more able."

"Like take turns?"

"Exactly."

Slightly more calm, Ray nodded. "Okay, okay, I can go with that, but it still butters my muffins. I should be able to do this."

"You're overreacting."

Ray stood up, his jaw tight. "Don't do that. Don't fucking say that I'm overreacting, not until you've had your arm snapped like a twig and held hostage in plaster." Fraser sighed, tried to touch his face in apology, but Ray twisted away, still more angry than he should be. "Just fix it."

Storming out, Ray headed to the living room. Any other time and he'd go to the gym or the station, maybe do a little boxing or arrest some scumbag. Hell, he couldn't even have a drink, not without playing true confessions with Fraser. He wanted to fly apart in all directions, to scream and kick and maybe even bite a few ears off.

Diefenbaker watched him from the side chair, alert for any sudden moves or a quick getaway. Fraser came in from the bedroom, walked past him, returning the box of remaining bulbs to the cabinet. He stood there leaning back against the counter for several minutes before he finally spoke quietly. "Did something else happen while I was out?"

"Like what?"

"I'm asking you."

"Nothing happened. Light bulb went out, light bulb stayed out. Stupid light bulb."

"You appear agitated."

"I'm wired, that's all, all cooped up. Cooped up makes me antsy."

"I see. So there was nothing else?"

Ray wrapped his good arm around his chest as he kept pacing, the energy buzzing through his body. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to hear what Fraser had to say at the moment. "Nothing means nothing."

"You've got coffee stains on your sweat pants."

"So? You the laundry police now?"

Not reacting to the hostile tone, Fraser remained calm. He picked up the folder on the table and opened it. "Did Lt. Welsh drop these by?"

"Yeah."

"Would you like me to fill them out?"

"I can do my own paperwork, Fraser. I'm not totally useless. I can still hold a fucking pen."

"Ray, did I do something to upset you?"

Turning, Ray stopped, startled by the hurt tone and the strained features of his partner. He swallowed back his own impatience, the urge to keep going head to toe. "It's not you. It's me. I'm just pissed for no reason. It's not about light bulbs, never was. Everything's just spinning too fast all of a sudden, like I dropped speed or something. I should be sleeping. That's what I usually do when I take this stuff, but right now I can't seem to settle down, can't get a handle on what's making me feel all crazy."

"Perhaps it was this list of doctors Lt. Welsh provided?"

Sighing, Ray sagged down on the sofa and closed his eyes. "I hate this. I hate the idea of starting all over, telling some stranger about what happened when I don't even know. On top of that, I'm afraid I won't pass, won't get well enough to be a cop again, ever." Ray rubbed his eyes with one hand, his gut all twisty inside. "I just want to do my job and it's like a conspiracy, some kind of plot to keep me from doing it. Welsh is the brick wall and I'm the smashed bug."

Fraser didn't say anything at first, just moved to sit next to him. After a few moments, he spoke softly. "Ray, there's no doubt in my mind that if you want to be a police officer again, that's what you will be."

"You don't know that."

"But I believe it."

"Believing don't make a thing so."

"True." Fraser paused and tried again from a different angle. "You once told me that you never wanted to be a police officer, but you never told me what your aspirations were. What would you be if you decided not to be a detective?"

Ray opened his eyes, his mind reeling back to years before, his dreams all mangled up by bank robbers and Stella. "Wanted to be a mechanic before that whole pissing in the pants thing went down. It wasn't just the bank that wrecked that idea, though. No way Stella would marry some grease monkey, not with the way she wanted to live." Ray laughed to himself. "Probably would've made more money in the long run. I could've had my own garage, my own business by now."

"You still could. Ray, your only option isn't police work. You can do anything you want."

More relaxed, Ray shook his head. "No, not now. I mean, I could do it if I had to, but I really like being a cop most of the time. It's kind of hard to get the same rush fixing engines that you do busting some scumbag for murder or hurting some kid."

"Any job well done can be gratifying."

"Didn't say different. I just like arresting assholes who deserve it."

"And I have every confidence that you'll do that again soon. You just have to be patient."

"Me and patience, Fraser, not a good mix."

"I'm very aware of that."

Fraser's tight tone stopped him. Ray turned his head and then rubbed Fraser's sleeve a few times in apology. "I'm sorry about being such a pain in the ass. I don't mean to take it out on you, I don't. I hate when I do it, but it's like I just got this mouth that starts yapping on its own sometimes."

Capturing Ray's hand, Fraser squeezed it gently. "I understand your frustration and fear, Ray. I really do. I want to be helpful, but your hostility is difficult to bear when it's aimed in my direction."

"Ah, Fraser, I'm sorry, really." Ray dropped his forehead to Fraser's shoulder, truly ashamed of his fussy behavior. He needed a good kick in the head, a serious drop kick to make that kind of shit stop. "I'm just a prick sometimes."

"Apology accepted." Fraser patted his head as he smiled again. "I've got something for you."

Ray released his grip and watched as Fraser went to his duffel bag and retrieved a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. Ray took it and held it up to his ear as he shook it. "What is it?"

"A present from Turnbull."

Ray studied it again with more caution. "You think it's safe?"

"I have no doubt. As I've mentioned before, Constable Turnbull has very fond feelings for you. He wanted to give you something as a token of his friendship and he sends his best wishes for your recovery."

"Don't start with the fond feelings again. Turnbull's not like that."

"Ray, I assure you that Constable Turnbull is very much 'like that'."

"Really?"

"Why are you so surprised?"

"I don't know. It just seems weird that the only two Mounties I know are gay and the Ice Queen, well, I'm not that sure about her, either."

"Strictly speaking, I'm a functional bisexual."

"But Turnbull's gay, right?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"And the Ice Queen?"

Fraser held his expression in check, but just barely, a grin just under the surface. Then he tutted. "Now, Ray, Inspector Thatcher's inclinations are none of our business."

"Come on, Frase. She's more butch than I am. You can't tell me that she wouldn't be open to some girl-on-girl action to take the edge off if she had to."

Sitting down beside him, Fraser blushed deeply and shook his head. "Please, such a scenario is one that I don't care to even consider."

"Why not? She'd be hot going at it with some thin, blond chick."

"You mean like Stella?"

Ray groaned, his own face hot. "Don't even go there. Do not go there. I do not, I repeat, do not, want that image in my head." Then he smiled, his naughty mind making its way there anyway. "Though I'd lay odds Stella would be on top."

Fraser didn't argue, obviously didn't even want to think about it. "Why don't you open the gift?"

His attention came back to the small package. "Sure, sure." Ripping off the paper, he opened the box. He took a deep breath, his head swimming with sweetness. "Chocolate. Good stuff, too."

Fraser nodded in approval. "Made from scratch, no doubt. Constable Turnbull is noted for his rather unique confections."

"You're saying he makes candy?"

"For special occasions, yes."

Ray picked up one of the treats and studied it. "Looks like a bird."

Fraser checked it out and then scanned the other candies. "An eagle. He's also included a whale, a wolf, a polar bear, a caribou, a fox, a seal, and a snowshoe hare. Excellent work, too. I'm sure he carved the molds himself."

"Carved the molds?"

"For the candy."

"You're telling me Turnbull carves these little animal pictures into wood or something and then makes the candy, too, just for a gift?"

"Not just any gift, Ray. One that symbolizes his hope for your recovery."

"Why animals?"

"Well, you'll notice that these are all artic creatures, animals that are important symbols to the Inuit. The Inuit, as you know, believe in animism."

"Animism? Like why I can't see straight?"

"You mean astigmatism?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"No. Animism is the belief that one can gain the spiritual strength of a creature by wearing, or in this case ingesting, its image."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all."

"That's weird."

"It's no more weird than the communion practiced in your own church."

Ray shook his head, still holding the candy, wondering why the hell Turnbull just couldn't send him M&Ms like everyone else so he didn't have to listen to a lecture he didn't really want to hear. "I don't get it. What's communion got to do with eating chocolate critters?"

"Communion is based on the belief that one consumes a representation of the body and blood of Christ in the form of the Eucharist..."

"Eucharist?"

"Communion wafer and wine."

"Gotcha."

"It's believed that when it enters your body it is literally transformed and creates a spiritual connection with your God. The Inuit and many other aboriginal people believe a similar thing happens, only they take in or carry the image of the animal instead, and draw strength and power from the earth."

The chocolate eagle vanished half way through Fraser's exposition. Ray sighed as the delicious flavor washed his tongue. Several chews later, he returned his attention to his partner and held out the box. "Want one? Better than animal crackers by a long shot."

Used to Ray's wandering attention span, Fraser just shook his head. "No, thank you. I should fix supper. Maybe you should save those for dessert."

Ray popped the creamy caribou in his mouth and then nodded, handing the package to Fraser. "You better take'em. I'll eat the whole box if you don't. Turnbull outdid himself. How'd he know I liked chocolate so much?"

Fraser took the box and chuckled fondly. "The same way we all know Diefenbaker likes doughnuts, simple observation."

"You saying I eat a lot of chocolate?"

"It appears to be your number one food group."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Fraser ignored the rhetorical question. "What would you like for supper, Ray?"

"Let me guess, we've got pasta or we've got pasta."

"There's also a fine broccoli and cheese casserole."

"I'd rather eat whale blubber and lichens, Frase. Go with whatever you want, though. I'm not that hungry."

Ray fiddled with the edge of the sofa, wanting to eat more chocolate, refraining because Fraser wanted him to eat right for a change. Being a couple made it hard to fill up on all the good stuff sometimes.

"Ray, we could order one of those pizzas you like so well."

"With the pineapple?"

"With whatever toppings you prefer."

"What about all that food we've got in the fridge? I know how you are about not wanting to waste stuff."

"There's a shelter just a few blocks away. I know Father Donegel personally. I'm sure he can find a good use for the Vecchio donations."

Ray met Fraser's caring blue eyes and nodded. "Sure, okay, if you don't mind pizza, that'd be good. I could go with that."

"Pineapple pizza it is, then."

"You're hot."

Ray peeked an eye open and turned his head, his brain still fuzzy from being half asleep. Fraser stared down at him, his face serious but a little blurry. Still, if his partner called him sexy, he could at least return the favor because he sure as hell wouldn't be lying. "Thanks, Frase. I think you're hot, too."

Fraser frowned, his brow furrowed. "I'm not running a fever, Ray."

"Huh?"

Palming Ray's forehead, Fraser’s face got even more concerned. "You've got a fever. I'd say at least two degrees above normal."

"How can you tell without a thermometer?"

"When I was younger, we learned to rely on our sense of touch to estimate temperature. Still, you're right. I'll get one to be accurate."

Ray stayed in bed under the covers, his body achy and tired while Fraser fetched the thermometer. "Put this under your tongue."

Following orders, Ray opened up and did just that, but then closed his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep, not worry about anything else. After a few minutes of silence, Fraser removed the thermometer and read it. "I was right. We should call the doctor."

"How much is it in real numbers, Fraser, not those weird numbers like you use?"

"It's 101.2 degrees Fahrenheit. And Celsius isn't the least bit weird, Ray. It's used throughout most of the civilized world."

"You saying America's not civilized?"

"I didn't say that." Fraser took a deep breath to focus on the task at hand. "That's not important. The antibiotics are obviously not working. We should call the doctor and find out what to do."

Ray shook his head, still too heavy and lazy to sit up. Even his fat tongue wanted to take a break. He forced himself to talk even when he'd rather be sleeping. "Look, I've got that appointment tomorrow. We'll tell him then."

"It's too risky to wait, Ray. In the hospital you became seriously ill in just a matter of hours."

Closing his eyes, Ray sighed, just not up to the fight. "Do what you want. I'm going back to bed."

"Ray, you're already in bed."

"I meant sleep."

"Right you are. Sleep."

"Just a few winks, a little nap, not long. I'll get up later and have lunch."

A cool hand petted back his hair. "Sleep well."

Soft lips kissed his own, but instead of waking from the spell of exhaustion, Ray fell down a really deep well.

Beeping and distant voices brought him back to the surface slowly. Ray blinked several times, squinting in the bright light. He tried to bring his arm up to cover his eyes, but a stronger hand held it down. "Let go."

"Ray, be still."

"I said, let go, Fraser."

"You need to lie still, Ray. You'll pull out the IV."

"IV? Fuck." Ray groaned, the reality settling in. "How'd I get here?"

"Ambulance. Your fever went up and your heartbeat became irregular. I thought it prudent to bring you in as fast as possible. The doctor agreed and admitted you for more antibiotics and to monitor your heart."

Ray shut his eyes, the weight of being back to where he started almost too much. "I was doing fine."

"Until this morning, yes."

"So what happened?"

"They think it's possible the infection has built up a resistance to the medication. Your white cell count is dangerously high."

"And my heart?"

Fraser paused, his hand still holding Ray's. "Your body's been under a great deal of strain the last few weeks. It could be just a reaction to the stress you've endured."

"And you're saying that's making my heart jumpy?"

"It's possible. They're not sure. It could also be a reaction to the medication or the infection. They want to run more tests to assess the problem. You'll be here at least 48 hours, possibly more."

Ray pulled his hand away, fisting it and then slamming it into the rail. "I hate this shit."

"I know, Ray, as do I. On the positive side, Dr. Raines said that he'd go ahead and change your cast tomorrow if the x-ray shows that there's been enough healing."

Good news made it easier to breathe. "Yeah? You mean old Terry here's going to be history?"

"We can certainly hope so."

"Yeah, yeah, that would be good. I won't miss this thing, not a bit."

After a few moments of eying his cast, Ray turned his head and studied Fraser. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About scaring you like that."

Fraser swallowed hard and confessed. "I was, indeed, frightened, Ray. I had hoped your previous bout with infection was the last."

"Same here." Ray paused and then shifted higher in the bed. "Actually, I feel better, a lot better. Not enough to get up and chase scumbags, but close. Weird. Where's the little button thingy?"

"Right here." Fraser pointed out the control on the railing. "Allow me." With a press of a button, the head raised about 45 degrees and stopped. "Better?"

"All the better to see you with, my dear."

Fraser blushed deeply. "Thank you, Ray. I consider you dear as well."

Ray grinned. "Guess you never heard of Little Red Riding Hood, huh?"

"I'm afraid not, no."

"Too bad. When you're dressed up in your fancy red suit, you two have a lot in common except her wolf's the bad guy."

Obviously puzzled, Fraser merely rubbed his eyebrow. Ray took pity and reached for his hand, which Fraser took without hesitation. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?"

"Like I said, never mind." He squeezed Fraser's hand for reassurance and then licked his lips, his throat dry. He could taste the nasty metallic wash over his tongue from the antibiotics. "I'm kind of thirsty. Could you get me some coffee or something?"

"No coffee, Ray, unless it's decaffeinated. Caffeine is restricted until they know your heart is healthy. However, I can get you some juice, water, or soda."

"No coffee?"

"And no chocolate."

"You're kidding."

"Not at all. Chocolate is a stimulant."

"But I can have it when I get out, right?"

"That will be up to the cardiologist."

"Cardiologist? Not Dr. Barnes?"

"No, it's a Dr. Loren. You've had several physicians working on your case, Ray, all specialists. I must say I'm very impressed with the wide range of skills available in the Chicago area."

"I'd rather just have one good doctor. I can't keep up with the ones I had, now I have a new one? That sucks."

"Dr. Barnes thought it best to consult with a specialist. He's still taking care of your infection and wounds and is coordinating your care while Dr. Raines will continue to attend to your orthopedic needs."

"God, it's a good thing I've got good insurance."

Fraser nodded gravely. "Canada provides all of its citizens free health care. I've often wondered why a nation as grand as your own doesn't at least offer a similar system."

"Don't get me started on that, Frase. It's a sucky system. Being a cop though, you might not get paid much, but you do get pretty good coverage."

"Will this coverage go with you when we travel to Canada?"

"Yeah. Why? You worried about that?"

Fraser hesitated, but then met his eyes. "Constable Turnbull made a rather disturbing comment the other day."

"He says a lot of squirrelly stuff. I wouldn't get all bent out of shape over it."

"Actually, he suggested that I was blinded by my love for you."

Ray's eyes opened a bit wider. "He said that?"

"He was referring to the fact that sometimes I have no objectivity when it comes to you and trying to fulfill your wishes."

"Okay. So, is that like a bad thing in Canada?"

"If taken to extremes, I would think it could be a bad thing anywhere. What I'm saying is that he suggested that perhaps it might not be a good idea for us to travel to my father's cabin while you're still so ill. After what happened today, I'm not sure if he isn't correct."

His chest tightened, and the heart monitor beeped a little faster. "You saying you don't want to take me to Canada like you promised?"

"Not at all. I just think perhaps we should visit the cabin at another time, late spring, or early summer."

"But you don't want to go now?"

"We could still go to Canada, Ray, but I was thinking we could go to Yellowknife or Whitehorse where there are medical facilities in case they're required."

Ray swallowed hard, his disappointment like a heavy stone inside his belly. The words came out defensive. "You think I'm going to get sick. You don't trust me to hack it."

Fraser rubbed his right arm, his hand moving gently up and down the bare skin. "If anything happened to you, Ray, I'd never forgive myself."

Easing into the idea, Ray nodded. "I get that. I guess it makes sense. I don't like it, but it does make sense."

"Even getting to Whitehorse or Yellowknife will be arduous. It'll take several plane trips and up to 12 to 48 hours one way."

"12 to 48 hours?"

"We're going to the artic, Ray. The weather isn't always dependable and it is several thousand kilometers. It might take even longer. It depends on when flights are scheduled."

"So which city do you want to go to, Fraser, Yellowknife or Whitehorse?"

"Well, Whitehorse is bigger, but I have a friend in Yellowknife whom I've contacted about renting a cabin just outside of town. In Whitehorse, we'd be using a house provided for RCMP personnel within the town limits."

"Then I vote for Yellowknife. I want a cabin away from people." Ray's voice lowered to near husky. "I want you all to myself."

Fraser leaned over the rail, kissing his forehead and then his lips briefly. He stood back up and smiled. "I'll make the arrangements. Now, I should get you something to drink. I'll check at the nurse's station first."

"Thanks." As soon as Fraser left, Ray settled back and closed his eyes, thinking maybe he should get a map of Canada to figure out just how far out in the middle of nowhere he was going to end up. Not that it mattered. He still wanted to see Fraser on his own turf, see him all cozy in front of a fire with no other soul for miles around except Ray, the man who loved him enough to go to the ends of the earth and then some.

Still hooked up to an IV and wearing his own little heart monitor strapped around his waist, Ray sat on the edge of the gurney. His feet dangled as he waited for Dr. Raines to show up and tell him about the x-ray and to remove his cast. Just as he thought about screaming out in impatience, Raines came through the curtain. A feudal Lord of old Germany had nothing on this guy. Ray smiled at his paunch under the white coat, the round face. Of course, he might look like some wild character out of history, better suited to eating a leg of lamb in a drafty old castle, but Ray knew from experience that Raines was a skilled doctor who took no guff. He respected that.

Raines indicated the cumbersome cast. "Well, Detective, are you ready to lose this thing?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Good. The x-ray shows the bones are partially healed, though not as healed as I expected. Should be about another three weeks in the new cast. After that, we'll check again. If things go well, then you'll just need some PT and you'll be fine. If not, you might have to wear a temporary cast or a brace a little while longer. Either way, you'll need the PT."

"Physical therapy? What for? I didn't need it last time, at least not with the arm."

"The last time your breaks weren't at critical points for rotation. You'll most likely need help to fully rotate your hand again and to get the full strength back in your grip."

Ray bit his lower lip, disappointed at the prospect of physical therapy and the pain he knew that came with that. "So we going to do this thing or not?"

"There's no hurry. From the look of you, you're not going anywhere fast. Though I will say you look a lot prettier than the last time I saw you. The nose won't need to be straightened after all. I was worried about that."

Uneasy with the memory of his broken face and all the pain that went with it, Ray sidestepped that conversation. Instead, he indicated the cast. "I'm just tired of carrying this thing around."

"I can appreciate that."

A nurse brought in a tray containing the saw and the casting materials. The buzzing started and Ray watched in fascination as the nurse held up his arm and Raines proceeded to saw the cast off, the plaster sending up a fine dust. As soon as he made a line all the way from the upper arm to the thumb on the right, he then cut open the other side. It broke away, revealing the shriveled thing that used to be Ray's arm. Yellowish, dry skin peeled away and while Raines disposed of the cast, the nurse washed and dried his arm quickly and efficiently.

Raines then took his arm, using one of his own to brace it and the other to steady the wrist still turned in toward Ray. "This is going to be uncomfortable."

"Is that your way of saying it's going to hurt?"

"Just relax."

"That's a little hard to do here."

"Let's straighten out your arm first. Easy. Let me do the work."

Carefully, he let Raines guide him to straighten his arm, the tightness stretching into pain. "Shit."

"The muscles will relax more after we do a few flexes." He proceeded to do just that, the deep pull like nothing Ray ever experienced, like it wanted to lock into the bent position. After a few more times, the pain became more of a dull, throbbing ache that ran all the way up his arm through his back and shoulder. "Now, I need you to take a few deep breaths and try to relax even more."

"It hurts, Doc."

"I know, but it'll hurt less if you try to work with me by relaxing. Don't try to move on your own. Your muscles have stiffened up in this position. Now, I'm going to change that. I'm going to rotate your hand to palm down and then I'm going to straighten it to the angle I want. It's going to feel like I'm ripping off your hand, but trust me, I know what I'm doing."

Before he complained again, Raines turned his wrist slowly downward, the pain echoing all the way down to the bones. "Jesus."

"Just keep taking deep breaths."

"Easy for you to say."

Raines didn't answer, just used both hands to position the wrist, slowly pushing and pulling until tears streamed down Ray's face. He didn't whimper, but he wanted to. After Raines stopped, he patted the hand and smiled. "That should do it."

"Sadist." The word slipped out between clenched teeth.

"Now, Ray, I wasn't the one who broke it. I'm just the one who fixes it." Raines kept smiling. Probably wasn't the first time he'd been called names. "Now, Angela will do the new cast. Keep it dry like before and wear the sling. Elevate it at night if there's swelling. She'll also give you some literature and demonstrate how to exercise the fingers and thumb while you're still in the cast. It's important to do that so they don't freeze up and to keep down the swelling. Then later when the cast is off, you'll have more exercises to do on your own in addition to the PT. Any questions?"

"I need another prescription for the Percocet."

"No problem, but you should probably start to wean yourself off those over the next week or so. I'm going to reduce the dose a bit. Are you okay with that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Raines frowned. "Do you think you still need the higher dose?"

"It still hurts, a lot, so yeah, I'd like to keep the stronger stuff."

Nodding thoughtfully, Raines motioned to the nurse to start the casting. "Sure, okay. But only one refill. After that, you should try using the Tylenol or Ibuprofen. If you're still in pain, then we can talk about pain management techniques you can use."

"I thought that's what we were doing."

"Ray, I know a broken bone can be painful, especially a bad break like this one, but I don't want you to become too dependent."

"I just about had my hand ripped off. It's not like I'm popping pills for the fun of it."

The nurse slipped the gauze tubing over his hand and halfway up his arm just below his elbow, wrapping the wet plaster strips around his wrist first.

Reluctantly, Raines nodded and then patted Ray on his shoulder. "I'll write the script, but it's the last one."

"Thanks."

Ray closed his eyes while the nurse finished up, his mind dark and wishing he'd been brave enough to ask for a shot of the good stuff, just something to take the edge off.

"Oh, yes, Ray, much preferable."

Ray smiled, lifting his arm and actually waving it a bit. "Light as a feather, too."

"Are you going to name this one?"

"Might. Might call it Lou."

"Lou?"

"Reminds me of a Louisville Slugger, kind of. I could bat with this thing if I practiced my swing enough. Of course, I usually swing right, but it's good to be able to switch hit." Ray stopped abruptly, realizing what he'd just said. "Oh, man."

"What?"

"You didn't catch that?"

Fraser frowned, puzzled. "Catch what, Ray?"

"The switch hit thing." Seeing the confusion in his partner's face, Ray just shook his head. "Never mind."

"Ray, I would rather you explain."

"It's just a sex thing."

"Sex thing?"

"You know, one of those terms like switching teams, like straight and gay."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"You mean as in bisexual."

"Exactly."

"However, I still don't get the reference to being a switch hitter. How does violence relate to one's sexuality?"

"It's not about violence. It's about being able to hit the ball from either the right side or the left side of the plate. Get it?"

"I'm afraid not."

Frustrated, Ray tried again. "It's one of those meta things."

"Metaphor?"

"Yeah, that's it, a comparison."

"How so?"

"Well, it's like in baseball a guy who can hit left or right has the advantage because most pitchers usually throw better to either the right or the left, but not both. Guys who can go with women or men, well, they've got the advantage, too."

"Why is that?"

"Because they're more likely to find the right person because there are a lot more people to choose from."

Fraser smiled and nodded. "Understood."

"God, Fraser, is it this much trouble to explain things to me?"

"It's no trouble at all to explain things to you, Ray."

Ray studied his partner's sincere face. "You really mean that?"

"Well, of course, I do. I enjoy our exchanges about our cultural differences."

"You do, huh?"

"Indeed."

"It doesn't get frustrating?"

"Not in the least." Fraser paused. "Does it frustrate you?"

"Sometimes, not so much the explaining to you part, but the part about you having to explain to me. Sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake, but you've probably figured that out by now."

Fraser stroked his arm lovingly. "On the contrary, Ray. I find you to be a very apt pupil, very observant and eager to learn. Sometimes you do get a bit impatient, but that's just your nature. In fact, I find your flexibility and ability to learn so quickly quite endearing."

"You're unhinged, you know that?"

"I don't consider myself unhinged because I admire those qualities that make you the person I love, Ray." Ray let Fraser wrap his right hand in his, the fingers intertwining. "You should probably get some more rest."

"You leaving?"

"Just for a little while. I need to take Lt. Welsh the forms to grant you an extended leave."

"Which I didn't finish filling out."

"I finished them for you."

"Thanks. Did I sign them?"

"Yes. I just needed to fill in some dates, social security number, and other vital statistics."

Ray positioned his head on the pillow to look at Fraser more clearly. "You know my social security number?"

"By heart."

"That's pretty amazing."

"It's just nine digits."

"Yeah, but they're my nine digits. Not many people memorize other people's social security numbers." Ray squeezed Fraser's hand in approval. "I like it. It sounds like a couple thing."

"We are a couple, Ray."

"Yeah, Fraser, I think that's finally sinking in, finally making a dent in the old thick skull here. I'm a little dense sometimes and it takes me a while to get it, but bam, bam, when I do, it hits like a ton of bricks, you know?"

"I think so. Do you mean you're just now realizing that we're together?"

"I knew it, but I didn't know it."

Fraser's brow wrinkled again. "I'm confused, Ray."

"Don't be. We're a couple, you and me, together, partners, a duet for the personal stuff, not just the case stuff. Got it. That's all that matters."

"Absolutely, Ray. We're a duet of the highest order.”

"Kowalski and Fraser. I like it. Sounds good."

"I don't mean to argue, Ray, but shouldn't that be Fraser and Kowalski? It's generally accepted that alphabetical order is..."

"Don't start, Fraser."

"Understood."

"You ever think about getting old?"

Fraser looked up from his paper and then folded it before putting it on the side table. "Occasionally. Do you?"

"More than I used to. I mean, I used to think about it more when I was with Stella, and then that crapped out, and I got kind of down about things, not really thinking I'd ever make it to the other side of forty. I guess if I had to be honest, I was kind of depressed, thinking who'd want to get old and wrinkled anyway?"

"And now?"

"Now? Now things are different, they're good, better than good. I've got you and I'm thinking, Kowalski, you lucked out here." Ray turned his head, focusing on Fraser, his partner's face a reassurance that life only got better if you took enough chances. "I love thinking about the two of us getting old together. Weird, huh?"

"Not at all." Fraser leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his face more relaxed than it'd been in days. A smile graced his lips. "How do you see us in the future?"

"Same as now, only better."

Fraser grinned wider and stood up, stretching a little before he came to stand by the hospital bed. He braced himself against the rail, his hand gently petting back Ray's hair, his voice more hushed. "Better in what way?"

Ray drank in the soft touches, the ease at which Fraser stroked his hair, connecting without reservation. He missed that, missed the human contact after Stella left. Now he had Fraser and life meant more than it ever did before. He met Fraser's eyes as he spoke quietly. "I see us living together out in the wilderness, in your father's cabin or another cabin, it doesn't matter. I'm not a cop anymore, but you are. You'll always be a Mountie at heart no matter how old you get. And you get stationed up in the Yukon or the Northwest Territories and you love it and you love me being with you. You go out and do your Mountie thing and me, I stay at the cabin. I chop wood and keep the place going. You teach me all the things I need to know, how to use a dog sled, how to live through the winter, how to do all that survival stuff. And when you're home, we sit and talk, or play poker for air, or take Dief for long walks. We live together, and make love whenever we want to, and it's all good. That's how I see us, that's what I want it to be like when we leave this place."

Fraser's eyes never left his, but they did mist over. He blinked several times and his words choked. "That's how you see our future?"

"Yeah. So what about you? How do you see us in a few years when I'm too old and busted up to be a flatfoot anymore?"

"I can't imagine anything more grand than what you've just shared. It's a lovely dream, Ray."

"It's more than a dream, Frase. It's going to happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I love you. This is it for me. You're what I want." Fraser swallowed hard and then looked away. Ray reached up and touched his chin, bringing him back to face him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that, Fraser. Give. You think I'm lying, that I don't really care enough about you to spend the rest of my life hanging out in the wilderness?"

Fraser took his hand at his face and held it. "It's not that. I know you love me, just like I love you. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"It's difficult for me."

"What is?"

Several long moments passed before Fraser finally answered. "To have such hopes, such dreams. Anytime I've allowed myself to imagine it, the situation ended quite badly."

"So you don't think you're entitled to a little happily ever after?"

"I'm not saying I'm not entitled or that I don't want that, but I'm just..."

"Gun shy?"

"Yes."

Ray nodded and squeezed Fraser's hand. "I get that. Believe me, I get that. I know you get tired of hearing her name, but for the longest time after Stella, I didn't even think there was ever going to be another chance. I'm not blaming her, but God, she busted my balls something awful. I really thought I was the all time loser, the guy anybody with any sense would steer away from. But then you show up and I know you've got sense, more than good sense. You're smart and you're kind and you like me, more than that, you love me. How can that happen if I'm such a lost cause? I figure it can't, because I'm not. Finally, I get it. But, am I gun shy? You bet your ass. And you, you got a double dose of ball bustin', what with Victoria and the Bullshit guy. It's just you can't let that get you so far down that you can't hope anymore, Frase. You just can't. You understand that?"

"I need your patience, Ray. It's still very difficult."

Ray tilted his head and then cupped Fraser's cheek, stroking the firm jaw line with his thumb. "You've been patient with me. I figure it's the least I can do for you. Just tell me what you need, what you're thinking. Don't pull the stiff upper lip Mountie thing or I'll have to kick the truth out of you. Got that?"

"Got it." Fraser leaned in a little closer. "A little tip then, Ray."

"What's that?"

"I think I would prefer you kiss the truth out of me rather than the other option."

Ray smiled and hooked the back of Fraser's neck, pulling him forward. Fraser's mouth latched onto his, their tongues wrestling, Ray's cock waking up and taking notice. The kiss deepened, but then Fraser pulled back. "We should stop."

"We're just getting started."

"Ray, you're still on a heart monitor."

"You're good, Fraser, but I doubt I'm going to have heart attack from necking."

Fraser chuckled and did that cute little pink blush thing. "We just need to be careful until you're released." Fraser used his index finger to hush Ray's protest. "Believe me, as soon as we get home, if the doctor says it's not a risk, we'll kiss all you want."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"You think we might do more than kiss?"

Fraser didn't look away this time, his face dead serious. "What we do is entirely up to you, Ray. Whatever you want, that's what we'll do."

The husky voice thrilled him, made his cock twitch and his toes actually curl. Even so, Ray couldn't help teasing. "What if I want to do it from the chandeliers?"

"You don't have a chandelier, Ray."

"But if I did, would you do it?"

A grin tugged at the edges of his mouth as Fraser caught on to the game. "I certainly would give it my best effort."

"What if I wanted you to talk dirty, could you do that?"

"Talk dirty?"

"Yeah, you know, use words like fuck and dick and suck me, words like that."

Fraser gulped a little. "I suppose I could try."

Ray got more serious. "But it would bother you, right?"

"I'm not sure. It would depend on the situation."

"So you're at least not ruling it out completely."

"No, I wouldn't rule it out completely. If I may ask, is it something you really enjoy, this talking dirty?"

Ray figured Fraser would sniff out the truth soon enough anyway, so he might as well come clean, so to speak. "Actually, yeah. I mean, I don't want to be called names, but I do like hearing what someone's going to do to me and I like telling the other person what I like and what I want to do to that other person." Ray took another deep breath. "And I guess I should warn you, I do like some kinky stuff."

"Kinky stuff?"

"Well, not like what you did with Bullweather, but I do like to watch."

"You're a voyeur then?"

"I guess. Stella always called me a perv because I loved watching her get off. I could come just by watching her do herself, finger, vibrator, dildo, it didn't matter." Fraser turned bright red. "Sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass you. I just think we have to be honest about what turns the old crank."

"No, no, I'm glad you're frank about your erotic appetites. If we're going to be partners, it's important that we discuss these things openly."

Ray took Fraser's hand in his and squeezed gently. "So, what turns your crank, Frase? What turns you on like nobody's business?"

Ray saw the flicker, the momentary hesitation before Fraser dared to say it out loud. "You, Ray. You turn me on like nobody's business."

"That hard to say?"

"No, but I must admit it's more difficult to confess than I expected." Fraser bit his lower lip and then sighed. "Almost from the first time I saw you, I dreamed about you."

Ray pulled back slightly, but never released Fraser's hand. "Dreamed about me? Do you mean dream dream or like you dreamed one of those sexy dreams?"

"Both actually. You occupied my thoughts both consciously and unconsciously to the exclusion of almost anything else. The first time I had an erotic dream about you, well, the result was very troublesome."

"Troublesome?"

"I had to get up and do unscheduled laundry before Turnbull got to work."

Ray laughed as awareness dawned. "You had a wet dream about me? Way to go, Frase."

"It wasn't amusing at the time, Ray. I was uncertain about how to deal with my almost obsessive fascination. I had no idea that the attraction was in any way mutual."

"You could've asked."

Fraser met his eyes, his voice softer. "And what would you have said in the beginning, Ray? Would you really have been open to a relationship with a male partner when it was obvious that you still had unresolved issues with your ex-wife? I mean, dear God, Ray, you were stalking her at one point only a few months ago."

"I was not stalking."

"Perhaps not, but it was a very fine line that made me very uncomfortable."

Ray frowned, the memory of his jealous behavior still too difficult to think about. "You're right. I probably wouldn't have been open to it. Might have even freaked me out a little." He shook his head. "God, how did you stand it, keeping that in all this time?"

"One learns a modicum of discipline in the service, Ray. Still, I must admit there were times when I wanted to slam you against the wall and kiss you so hard that you would never again utter the name Stella with the same intonation of longing you so often use."

"Intonation of longing? I do that?"

"Yes, Ray, you do. Quite often. Or at least you used to."

"And now?"

"Now I love the way you say Fraser."

Ray chuckled. "Fraser. It's a good name, a very sexy name." He ran a finger along Fraser's lower lip, his voice a lot deeper. "Is that the name you want me to keep using? You don't want me to call you Ben or Benton or Mr. Mountie?"

Fraser sucked in the finger tip briefly, his teeth just barely nipping the skin. His eyes met Ray's and then released the finger reluctantly. "In my dreams you call me Fraser."

"Then Fraser it is."

Dr. Barnes stood by the bedside, his face serious as he studied the chart. He looked up and met Ray's anxious eyes. "How are we feeling today, Ray?"

"I don't know about you, Doc, but I'm ready to get the hell out."

Barnes chuckled. "Good, because I'm inclined to let you go. I've gotten all the reports in on your heart and it's all good news. Apparently the arrhythmia you experienced was a result of number of possibilities. Whatever the reason, your heart seems fine now."

"Awhatsmia?"

"Arrhythmia, or irregular heartbeat. The point is, we think your heart is good and that's great news."

"That mean I can have real coffee?"

"I don't see why not."

"Chocolate?"

"Yes, but I'd rather see you eat a lot more than chocolate. I've told you before that you need to work on a more balanced diet. You've lost ten pounds over the last three weeks, ten pounds you cannot afford to lose. One-forty just isn't a good weight, not with your height. So, when I do send you home, I expect you to try harder to eat properly."

Not happy with the lecture, but not in the mood to argue, Ray just nodded. "Sure, sure, whatever. When do I hit the streets?"

"Not quite yet. I'm going to hang another bag of antibiotics and then do some more blood work. That'll let me know whether you can go home this afternoon or if you need to stay a little while longer."

"I vote for this afternoon."

"We'll see. If that is the case, then I'll give you the new oral antibiotics to take with you."

Ray nodded, his right arm crossed over his belly, his head more clear than it had been in days. "So any idea about why I keep getting this high fever thing?"

Barnes closed the file and frowned. "That's a good question. Wish I had a better answer. I've tried three different antibiotics, the latest being the most effective." Barnes hesitated and wet his lower lip, his voice suddenly more strained. "You have to understand, Ray. When you first came in here a few weeks ago, you were in shock from being brutally attacked and beaten. You had to have transfusions for the blood loss. In addition, your wounds were filthy not only from whatever dirt was on that knife, but blood from your attacker. I would've been surprised if you didn't get an infection. Problem is, sometimes it's trial and error to find the right antibiotic. Also, severe trauma like that sometimes makes it really difficult for your immune system to do its best work. You're just lucky that the infection is responsive to the medicine and your immune system seems to be kicking back in. If not, well, let's just say you could be in a lot worse shape than you are."

"I could be dead."

Barnes didn't meet his eyes. "We don't like to think in those terms if we can help it, Ray."

"But it's the truth. I mean, I'm a cop. I always thought I'd get taken down by a bullet, not something I can't even see."

Barnes shrugged and then put on another smile. "Look, you're better and getting stronger. I'll tell the nurse to hang another bag of antibiotics and schedule the blood test." Barnes motioned at his new cast. "Looks a lot better."

"Feels better."

"I'll bet. So, where's your friend, Constable Fraser?"

"Sent him out to get magazines. True confessions, he's kind of a worry wart."

Barnes laughed. "I kind of picked up on that."

"Not much chance of hiding it."

"Still, he seems like a good friend. I take it he's going to be around to help you through your convalescence?"

"Yeah, he's my partner." Ray waited, not sure what kind of response he'd get, happy to see it didn't seem to matter much to Barnes one way or the other.

"He's a good man."

"Yeah, he is. Just makes a me a little crazy when he turns mother hen, or mother goose, or whatever that translates to in Canadian."

Barnes grinned at the joke and then took a deep breath. "Okay, that's about it for me, except to say that when you go home, I want you to keep using the antibiotic cream on the shoulder and thigh lacerations. The seepage has stopped, but I'd still like you to keep the bandages on for a few more days. Any questions?"

"When will I know about getting to go home?"

Looking down at his watch, he shrugged. "I'd say by two at the latest. If it works out, then I'll want you back in a few days to get more blood work. I want to keep a closer watch this time so we don't have any repeat performances of this last ambulance ride."

Ray shook his head, his arms still crossed and his back a little straighter. "That might be a problem."

Barnes met his eyes. "Problem?"

"We're leaving for Canada the day after tomorrow. We got tickets."

"Tickets? To Canada?"

"Yeah?"

"You're kidding."

"We're going to go for a couple of weeks’ vacation."

Barnes did not look happy. "Ray, that's not a good idea."

"Why not? They don't have doctors in Canada? I'll take my pills and be a good boy, just like the doctor ordered. You don't have to worry. It's not like I'm going to go skiing or bobsledding or anything like that." Ray looked down, avoiding the tough stare. "I just want to get away for a while, that's all."

"Where in Canada, Toronto, Montreal, some place with good medical facilities?"

"A little place called Yellowknife, but Fraser says they've got a hospital if I need it."

Stunned, Barnes shook his head in disbelief. "And Constable Fraser thinks this is a good idea?"

"Does Constable Fraser think what is a good idea?" Fraser stood in the doorway holding a bag of magazines and a cup of decaf.

Ray closed his eyes, dreading the rest of the conversation. "It's nothing, Fraser."

"I don't think so, Ray." Barnes turned his attention to Fraser. "How firm are your plans for traveling?"

"They can be changed if they need to be."

"I think they need to be. Ray doesn't seem to understand the seriousness of his medical situation, but I was under the impression that you had better sense."

"Hold up, Doc. You saying I don't have good sense?"

Barnes turned back to Ray. "If you think it's wise to go traipsing off to one of the coldest cities in Canada in the middle of winter when you should be resting, yes, that's putting it mildly. In a week or so, then I'd clear you for travel, maybe. Before then, it's really too risky."

"Then we won't go."

"Fraser, we're going. We got tickets."

"Ray, tickets can be easily exchanged and rescheduled. I won't endanger your health, not when we can go another time."

"I don't want to go another time. I want to go like we planned, when we planned."

"Ray, you're just being silly."

"Silly? You think I'm being silly because I want you to do what you promised?"

"I didn't promise to put you in jeopardy."

Barnes stood between them, his head moving back and forth as the two men exchanged increasingly heated words. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps, I should let you two discuss this alone. I'll tell the nurse to hang the new bag and check back this afternoon after the labs."

Fraser put the magazines and coffee on the table. He tipped his hat and then removed it. "Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your frankness."

"Anytime, Constable. Later, Ray."

Still fuming, Ray didn't bother to say goodbye or even fuck you. As soon as Barnes left the room, he snapped. "This doesn't change anything. I feel fine. I'm good to go and I'm going."

"Without me? I don't think that would be a very interesting trip, Ray."

Ray closed his eyes, his head back and his right fist against his forehead. "God, you make me crazy. Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?"

"I think this is where one might say kettle to pot, Ray."

"Oh, so now I'm not only silly but stubborn?"

"I think we're well matched in that department." Ray kept his mouth shut, but turned his head away from Fraser, who stepped to the side of the bed. "I know you're disappointed, as am I. Still, we can go next week, or the week after. It's not like he forbade you to go."

"Like he could."

"I'm just saying, we have to be reasonable."

"Fuck reasonable."

"Ray..."

"Look, Fraser, I know I'm acting like a big baby, but it's like every time I turn around, I got people busting my ass and telling me what I have to do and what I can't do, like I'm some addle-brained kid. I hate that."

"As anyone would."

Sighing heavily, Ray opened his bloodshot eyes and then rolled back over so he could look at Fraser. "You know what this means, right?"

"What?"

"We won't get to spend as much time alone in your friend's cabin."

Fraser smiled. "Ray, cabin, apartment, what difference does it make as long as we're together and you're getting better? Sure, it would be wonderful to deny the reality of the situation and head North, but how much is that fantasy worth? Your life? I simply can't risk that. I won't."

Ray held up a hand in surrender. "Okay, okay. I give up. Just promise me we'll go sometime."

"Promise."

"Cross your heart?"

"Cross my heart, Ray."

"It's so good to be home, I feel like screaming for joy."

Fraser frowned as he put the page of home instructions and the bag of new prescriptions on the table. "Why would you want to scream if you're happy?"

"It's just an expression."

"Ah."

"Jeez. If I had a nickel for every one of your ahs, I'd be loaded." Ray dropped to the sofa and smiled while Dief enthusiastically slobbered all over his ear. He ruffled his friend's fur and laughed for the first time in ages. "Good to see you, too, buddy, old pal. You and Turtle been getting along okay without me?"

Dief suddenly stopped licking and then jumped off the couch to move behind Fraser and then hunkered under the table. Looking around, Ray saw that Turtle's tank no longer occupied its usual spot by the window. "Okay, what's up? Where's Turtle?"

Fraser cleared his throat and looked more and more distressed. Ray shook his head. "Don't even say it. Don't even say it. Just tell me he's okay, just tell me that, Fraser. Tell me that nothing's happened to Turtle."

"Well, actually..."

"Actually what?"

"There was an accident."

"Accident? What kind of accident?"

"I assure you that Diefenbaker meant no harm."

Ray leaned forward, his head in his hands. "Oh, God, Fraser, just tell me. What happened?"

"Turtle fell out the window."

Ray lifted his head, not sure he'd heard correctly. "Fell? Out the window?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

"Fraser, I live on the third floor."

"Yes, I know, Ray. Luckily, Turtle seems to have a very sturdy shell. At first he seemed stunned and unresponsive, but he is still alive and there's every hope for a complete recovery. However, the vet wanted to keep him for observation as a precautionary measure. I fully intend to pay for any and all expenses for his care and for replacing his tank, which, I'm afraid, also fell out the window."

"Jesus, Fraser, three floors."

"I know, Ray. Diefenbaker is mortified that something might have happened to Turtle because of his clumsiness and lack of forethought."

"What the hell did he do?"

"Well, to be honest, Diefenbaker, doesn't really understand basic physics concerning displacement. I mean he is a wolf, after all. One can't really expect him to comprehend such simple scientific concepts that we take for granted."

"I'm not following."

"He thought he could fit in the tank with Turtle."

"Oh, my God."

"He was just very lucky that he didn't go tumbling out the window as well."

Ray shook his head and then fell back against the sofa. "I don't fucking believe this. Dumb wolf. Why'd he want to get in the tank anyway?"

"He wanted to play."

"Play?"

"Play."

"With a turtle?"

Fraser stepped closer and sat down beside Ray. "I have to assume full responsibility, Ray. I should have taken Diefenbaker back to the Consulate or the station during my absence. He forgets he's a wolf and sometimes gets lonely. He considers Turtle to be a friend. He was quite devastated to see the result of his shortsighted behavior."

Ray nodded, a little more calm. "Yeah, well, Turtle grows on ya. You can't help but love the little guy. So, you're sure he's okay?"

"He should be fine. I'm sure he's more shocked than anything else. He's not used to bouncing."

Ray took a deep breath and turned his head to look over at the nervous wolf still under the table. "Come here, Dief. I'm not mad. You didn't mean it." Dief got up and pushed his wet nose gratefully into Ray's extended hand. "Good boy. No more Turtle tank hopping, though, unless we get a much bigger tank, okay?"

Dief woofed and licked Ray's hand one more time before jumping up into the chair beside the sofa. Ray turned his attention back to Fraser. "So, when did this happen?"

"Yesterday morning."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You had enough to worry about." Fraser avoided his eyes. "And I wanted to make sure he would survive first."

"And if he'd died?"

Fraser met his eyes. "I would have told you, but I was hoping that wouldn't happen."

"So you gambled, betting on Turtle pulling through so you wouldn't see me lose it for nothing."

"I wouldn't say gambled. I was just being prudent."

"You took a chance."

"I merely used caution in delaying the information."

"You played the odds, Fraser, admit it. You waited to tell me because you thought I'd crack if I lost a pet I've had longer than I had Stella."

Swallowing hard, Fraser surrendered. "I'm sorry, Ray. I just didn't want to have to tell you such bad news unless I absolutely had to. You've had enough to deal with lately. Plus, I must confess to feeling responsible since I left Diefenbaker unattended for so long."

"Only because you were spending night and day taking care of me."

"True, but..."

"No buts. It's not your fault. I just wish you'd told me. I don't need to be coddled. I'm not a head case."

"Of course, you're not. I'm sorry."

Ray raised his hand in a stop motion. "Enough. It's not your fault. It's over. We'll get a new tank and bring Turtle home and it'll all be good. It's getting colder. I should probably move the tank away from the window anyway."

"Move it where?"

"Over by the stereo. He likes music."

"Turtle likes music?"

Ray glanced over and smiled at Fraser's rather dubious expression. "Yeah, Fraser. He doesn't dance, cause let's face it, turtles just don't have the right equipment to get a good rhythm going, not with those short, little legs. But, yeah, he likes music, jazz, blues, rock. He likes everything I like."

"He's a good pet then."

"And loyal, too. I've had him since I was a kid. Got him after I lost my dog when it got run over."

Fraser tilted his head and studied him, his eyes deep and thoughtful. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah. I couldn't get another dog, not after having to have the other one put down, just couldn't hack it. So, I figured, what's the best pet to get, something that's hardy and lasts a long time, but doesn't take a lot of work? I went to this neighborhood pet store and saw this little turtle and I thought, bam, that's it, a turtle. Perfect." Ray held up his long fingers and measured out four inches between his thumb and forefinger. "He was only this big when I got him. He's grown since then. I mean, I know it seems silly. He's just a turtle, but you get attached."

"I understand completely. The bond between a person and his pet is very special."

Ray sighed, his voice a bit more dreamy. "You know, back before, when Stella worked late most of the time or I was doing undercover, all I had was Turtle to talk to."

"Just like I talk to Diefenbaker."

"But Turtle doesn't talk back."

"Perhaps you just haven't learned to speak turtle."

Ray laughed and shook his head. "That'll be the day. Ray Kowalski, the man who speaks fluent turtle. I could make a fortune."

"Doing what? Translating for turtles?"

"No, going on talk shows."

"Talking turtle?"

Sitting up straighter, Ray turned his full attention on Fraser. "I think this is the nuttiest conversation we've had yet and that's saying something."

Fraser's voice softened into husky. "What would you rather discuss?"

"How about us?"

"What about us?"

"Everything about us." Ray reached out and cupped Fraser's face, drawing him closer as he rested his forehead against his partner's. "You scared?"

"A little."

"Yeah, me, too." Ray pulled back, grateful he no longer had to work around the awkward cast that kept Fraser so far away before. He drew him closer and captured his lips. The kiss deepened, tongues slick and hot, Fraser's moan a turn on. Ray pulled back. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Ray."

"You know, if my body wasn't so fucked up, I'd take you to bed right now."

"And I'd let you."

"Still, it's nice to have something to look forward to." Ray smiled as he traced a teasing finger down Fraser's face, along his cheek, his blue eyes sparkling.

"I must admit the thrill of anticipation does add a certain unexpected titillation to the possibility."

"It's not a matter of possibility, Fraser. It's going to happen. I'm just not sure when I'll be up to it."

Fraser nodded, returning Ray's caresses, his breathing a bit quicker. "I look forward to it."

"I can see that."

Once again, Fraser blushed and looked away, unable to keep eye contact. Ray chuckled and pulled Fraser's head back up to face him. "I always pegged you for being bashful, but this is ridiculous. It's kind of refreshing, though. You always been so blushy?"

"It's been the bane of my existence since an early age."

"How come?"

Fraser pulled back and studied him, his face suddenly more sad. "I've always been pale."

"So? Not much sun up north."

"Actually, sometimes there's a lot of sun far north. I tend to burn, but that's not what I meant."

Ray rested back against the sofa and pulled Fraser closer. He sighed and snuggled, bracing his face on his partner's chest, Fraser's strong arms wrapped around him. "Spill. Tell me about this blush thing. You get embarrassed a lot? Kids make fun?"

"Are you sure you want to hear all this?"

"I want to know all about you, Fraser. You know about the bank and what kind of messed up kid I was afterwards. Tell me about you. What was it like growing up? I know you told me it was lonely and you told me about Innusiq. What else? What didn't you tell me?"

Fraser's voice took on a different quality, low but very clear. "It was difficult for me as a child."

"Why?"

"I was white and most of the other children weren't. I didn't come from the same culture, get the same lessons. My grandparents, while being very good about providing for my physical needs, were, in the strictest sense, very emotionally remote and professed rationalism to the extreme. They did their best, but for the most part I felt isolated and terribly alone. My mother's death and my father's absence affected me far more deeply than I ever would admit."

Ray blinked several times, surprised at the sting of tears at his friend's poignant confession. "I'm really glad you at least had Innusiq as a friend."

"Yes, but that wasn't until I was older. Before that, well, as I said, it was difficult. We traveled a lot, taking the library from village to village, town to town. We might settle for six months at a time, but that was unusual. The few times I did go to the local schools, it tended to be disastrous."

"Disastrous how?"

"I never fit in. I either knew too much or not enough."

"I can't imagine you not knowing enough."

"I'm not talking about information, Ray. I'm talking about social expectations. My inexperience often led to misunderstanding and negative peer reactions. The blushing only intensified my humiliation at being excluded from most of the social interactions with my peers who found me far too odd to include in their games and friendships."

"They blackballed you, huh?"

"Being shunned is a very effective socialization tool, but it's very unpleasant."

"And this was all because you were white?"

"Not entirely, but partly, yes. It wasn't all one-sided. My grandparents, while respecting the ways of the aboriginal peoples, made it clear to me that we were to be separate from them. I don't agree, of course, but that made little difference at the time."

"So, what did they think about you hanging around with Innusiq?"

Fraser didn't answer right away, but squeezed Ray a little more tightly. When he finally spoke, his voice choked the words. "They didn't know about Innusiq. To them, he was simply a local boy with whom I went to school."

"And what about him? Did he pretend to his folks that you were just some other kid, too?"

"No. He didn't. He was always very upfront with his people. I was his best friend and he made that very clear." Fraser sighed. "He knew of my deception, of course. He didn't challenge me about it until we'd been together almost six months. He wanted to know if I was ashamed of him."

Ray took Fraser's hand, holding it, waiting for Fraser's faster breathing to level out. "I tried to explain that I wasn't ashamed of him, that my shame was for myself."

"I don't get it."

"My grandparents were very old-fashioned. They never talked about sex openly, but it was clear that they never approved of same gender pairings or mixed couples. They tried to be fair, but their disapproval came through loud and clear whenever they talked about certain people in the villages where we traveled. I was ashamed of myself, Ray. I wasn't brave enough to admit to my grandparents that I thought I was gay and that I had an Inuit partner. They would never understand. I couldn't risk losing their approval, not even for Innusiq."

"What did Innusiq say?"

"He was very good about it. He said he understood and that I must choose my own path."

"Sounds very, I don't know, enlightened for a kid."

"It was, but he wasn't like most kids. He didn't really care about my being different."

"Because he was different, too."

Fraser rested his head on the top of Ray's and his voice got even softer. "Perhaps that was part of it, yes.”

"What's the other part then?"

"He was just a better person than I was. He still is."

Ray sat up, frustrated and staring at Fraser before shaking his head. "I swear, you've got no clue."

"About what?"

"About how good you really are."

Fraser smiled weakly and pulled Ray back down against his chest, soothing his hair, petting him into being quiet again. Ray didn't resist but settled back into place, his quick annoyance gone just as fast as it flared up. "I try to do the right thing, Ray, but deep down, I know that hasn't always been the case."

"So what? You were a kid. You can't keep beating yourself up about all that. That'd be like me making myself crazy about the whole pissing in my pants thing. It happened. It's over, done, finished. Let it go."

"Understood, but it took a lot of years for you to realize that, Ray. You admitted that it changed your whole life. The same can be said for me. My reason tells me to do as you say, let it go. My emotional self is far more stubborn about such things."

Ray sighed heavily, his eyes closed, wishing he could make it all better. "Anything I can do?"

"Love me and be patient."

Snorting, Ray cuddled in close, his eyes still squeezed shut, his body begging to drift off to sleep. "Easy, no problem, already done." He patted Fraser's arm still wrapped around him and let himself float in the comfort of his best friend's embrace.

Ray woke to the enticing smell of fresh coffee. He rolled onto his back and found himself still on the couch, facing the kitchen, a wool blanket over him and a pillow behind his head. He stretched and took a deep breath. "Fraser?"

"Right here, Ray." Fraser stepped from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel, and then slinging it over his shoulder. "You were tired."

"Tell me about it. I don't even remember falling asleep." He adjusted his cast in the sling and then winced with the unexpected pain in his right shoulder. The wound often caught him off guard, but he gritted his teeth and just took it, working to keep his face neutral after the initial reminder of his lingering injury.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure. Moved the wrong way." Ray held out his good arm. "Give me a hand up."

Fraser extended his right arm, which Ray used to pull himself to a sitting position. He waited for the lightheadedness to slack off and then relaxed against the back of the couch. "Wouldn't say no to some coffee."

"With or without chocolate?"

"With." Ray scanned the room as Fraser went to fetch the drink. He frowned at the lighting. "What the hell time is it?"

"After nine."

"Nine at night? Jesus, Fraser. Why'd you let me sleep so late?"

Fraser handed him the mug. "You needed it. Plus, there was no reason not to. We're both on leave and have no pressing engagements."

Ray sniffed the delicious aroma of the coffee and let his irritation drift away. "Yeah, well, if I can't sleep tonight, it's your fault."

"Granted."

Taking several sips, Ray smiled. "God, this is good. You make a hell of a great cup of coffee, Fraser."

"Thank you kindly, Ray." Fraser stepped to the table and motioned for Ray to join him. "I took the liberty of fixing something light for supper. I didn't know how hungry you'd be, but you do need to eat something before retiring."

"Retiring? I just got up."

"True, but after the meal, I thought you might shower and I could assist you in shaving and changing your bandages."

"And you figure all that'll wear me out, huh?"

"It's been my experience that during an extended recovery one often needs a lot more rest than expected." Once again, Fraser motioned to one of the chairs at the table. "Please, Ray, join me."

Reluctantly, Ray got up and moved to the table, not hungry, but not wanting to disappoint his partner. From the fancy table settings with placemats and napkins, he could tell Fraser took the time to make it all look extra nice. "So, what's for chow?"

"Something simple, soup and sandwiches."

"What kind of soup and sandwiches?"

"I made some potato soup and bought some ham from your favorite deli around the corner. I also bought rye bread and a variety of condiments along with some Swiss cheese. As you once said, Ray, a ham sandwich without Swiss cheese is just a plain ham sandwich and not worth eating. Then for dessert, there's something called pineapple upside down cake. Your landlady, Mrs. Walenski, called it a homecoming present. She certainly knows your preference for all things pineapple and she sends her best wishes for a speedy recovery."

Just the thought of all that food made Ray queasy. "She didn't have to do that, make me a cake and everything."

"She wanted to, Ray. As I've mentioned before, she's very fond of you."

Fraser stepped to the stove and served the soup, bringing Ray's bowl to the table first and then his own. He then brought in the plate of ham and the makings for the sandwiches. "Would you like me to make yours, Ray?"

"Thanks, but I can do it." The creamy soup smelled good, like what his mom made, full of extra butter and onions, and Ray swallowed hard as he put his spoon down. "I haven't had potato soup in a long time. Where'd you get the recipe?"

"You had it in one of your cook books over the stove. It was handwritten, so I assumed it was one of your favorites." Fraser stopped eating and studied Ray closely. "What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

"I love it. I just can't eat it."

"I don't understand."

"My mom used to make it, made it just like this. It's her recipe. We usually only had it on special occasions, like after Dad and I got into it and made up."

Understanding dawned. "I'm sorry, Ray. I can fix you something else."

Ray held up a hand. "No, that's okay. I'm not really hungry."

"At least eat a sandwich."

"Save it for later. I'll eat a piece of cake and take some more coffee though."

Ray avoided Fraser's concerned look, and got up for his own drink. Standing by the counter, he spoke quietly. "I remember the last time she fixed soup like that."

Fraser moved beside him, his body close. He kept his hands to himself, just waiting. "When was that, Ray?"

"It was right before I graduated from the academy. I thought it was finished, you know, the constant crap about me throwing my life away, just wasting my time doing something worse than butchering meat in some slaughterhouse. I thought Dad accepted that I wanted to be a cop. I figured he'd see me graduate with honors and then he'd be okay with it. It was just a few days after that last meal that he left for Arizona. It was eight years of no father after that."

"And now he's left again."

"Yeah." Ray sighed deeply, his head down. "I'm sorry about the soup, Fraser. It smelled good, no kidding, better than Mom's even. Just save it. Maybe I can eat it tomorrow or something. It just caught me off guard, that's all."

A hand rubbed his back gently as Fraser moved in, his voice a whisper. "Don't worry about the soup, Ray. I can fix something else. Anything you want." Fraser took him in his arms and drew him closer, Ray's forehead on his partner's shoulder. "I don't want to be disrespectful, but your father is very foolish, Ray. I don't say that lightly, but any man who would disown his own son for wanting to be honorable, well, he's just foolish. There's no other word for it."

Ray lifted his head, his throat raw, his eyes misty. "Honorable?"

"Yes, honorable. You're a great police officer, Ray. How could any man not respect that? How could becoming an officer of the law not be worthy of both pride and love? Then he compounds his emotional blackmail by wanting you to be dishonest about who you are, to pretend to be something you're not. I'm sorry, but it's just wrong." Fraser cupped his face, his words choked. "I hate that he's hurt you so deeply. It's so very unkind and unfair."

"He's my father, Fraser. I love him, but I hate him, too, sometimes."

"I understand completely."

Ray dropped his head again and then smiled weakly. "All this because of potato soup. Go figure."

Fraser kissed the top of his head. "Please, eat a sandwich, Ray. I worry."

"Okay, but cake first."

"If you insist. Sit back down and I'll bring it to you."

"I can get it myself."

Fraser turned and met his eyes, his voice deeper and more husky. "I like serving you, Ray. Now, sit. Let me enjoy this."

Smiling, Ray shrugged in surrender, the twitch in his cock from Fraser's sexy confession a bit of a surprise. Nobody had ever wanted to take care of him like Fraser. He'd always been the one who took care of Stella, bringing her breakfast in bed, buying her little presents, trying to make things special between them. Now here was Fraser doing that for him. He liked it, but it took a little time to get used to.

Ray sat down as the cake appeared before him. He lifted his fork, tasting the rich combination of caramel and pineapple with some of the best cake he'd ever tasted. "God, this is great." He got another bite on his fork and lifted it towards Fraser. "Here, try some."

Hesitating just a second, Fraser leaned in and took the cake from Ray's fork into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he chewed and then nodded. "Excellent."

"Best ever. Ought to win a blue ribbon or something." Without waiting for more talk, Ray dug in and finished the serving in just a few more bites. He held up the plate. "More."

"Ray, you should at least have a sandwich first."

The sweet taste of the cake triggered his hunger and Ray agreed, "Okay, but I'm having another piece for dessert afterwards."

"Certainly. There's plenty."

"Good." Ray reached out and grabbed the bread. Then he piled on some ham slices along with the cheese before adding mustard. Trying to pick up his creation proved to be awkward.

"Allow me, Ray." Fraser came to the rescue and cut the sandwich in half so Ray could handle it more easily.

"Thanks, Frase."

Ray ate a few bites, trying to avoid noticing the watchful eyes of his partner. After a while, he shook his head. "Stop it."

"Stop what, Ray?"

"Stop watching me like I'm going to crack any minute. I'm fine. That whole soup thing, it's over."

"I don't mean to make you uneasy. It's just, well, quite frankly, I'm not sure what to do."

"About what?"

Fraser shifted in his seat, his nervousness translating to that funny stuff he did, licking that lower lip and then rubbing his eyebrow. "I'm not used to living with someone other than Diefenbaker. And, besides, I like looking at you."

Ray chuckled to himself and put his sandwich down. "I like looking at you, too, Fraser, but there's looking and then there's looking."

"How so?"

"Well, there's giving me the eye, letting me know you'd like me to take you to bed any time, any place, and then there's watching me like I'm going to fall apart if you blink. I like the first one a lot better than the second, and that's what I'm getting right now, that whole, is he going to wig out any minute look. I can live without it."

"I see. You think my concern is unwarranted?"

"At the moment, yeah."

"At the moment?"

"Yes, Fraser, at the moment. I can't promise I won't freak out and act crazy sometime in the future. We both know that it'd be a stupid promise anyway. I'm just not going to do it right at the moment. What I would like to do is finish my sandwich and then have some more cake. Okay?"

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Ray. That wasn't my intention at all."

"I know that." Ray picked up his sandwich, studied the edges around his bite, and then put it back on the plate. "I love that you care so much, Fraser, I do. I'm just not used to it."

"I can be a bit much."

Ray laughed to himself and then glanced over at Fraser. "I just said it wasn't you, okay? It's me. I just have to get used to having someone care enough about me to keep looking and fixing me homemade soup and worrying about whether or not I eat enough. It's just a lot to get used to after the way it's been for so long. It's not you, Frase. It's me."

"Perhaps it's a bit of both, Ray."

"Could be. I won't fight about it." He held out his cake plate. "The ham's good, but I really want cake."

"Then cake it is."

"No argument about nutrition and eating right first?"

"You're a grown man, Ray. If you want to eat cake, then you can eat cake." Fraser pushed his own sandwich and soup bowl away. "In fact, I think I'll join you."

"You rebel you."

Fraser leaned closer, his lips thinned to a mischievous grin. "You've got no idea how rebellious I can be, Ray."

Ray touched his face. "My own MOUNTIE WITHOUT A CAUSE. I like it."

"Ah, a James Dean reference."

Laughing, Ray smiled broadly. "You know about James Dean?"

"James Dean was a very popular movie icon for Innusiq and me."

"You two ever play James Dean meets the sheriff?"

Fraser's blush came with a whispered, "I believe it was more like the rebel meets the Mountie."

"I'll bet it was. You always play the Mountie?"

"Every chance I got." Fraser turned and met his eyes. "And feel free to interpret that any way you want, Ray."

The amused chuckle at his shocked expression made Ray tingle all over.

Ray sat on the bed shirtless. He held out his arm and studied it impatiently as Fraser put the finishing touches on the white plastic garbage bag wrapping his cast. "You done yet?"

"Just a bit more." Fraser checked the rubber band holding the bag in place just above the elbow, nodded in satisfaction, and then stood straight. "I think that should be sufficient."

"I should hope so. I could probably go into outer space with this thing."

"Ray, it's important to protect the cast."

"I get that, Fraser, but it's a pain. I hope it's not going to take as long to get off as it was to get on."

Instead of answering, Fraser picked up latex gloves and slipped them on as he moved to stand behind Ray. "I need to take off the bandages. You ready?"

Ray nodded, knowing full well that it still hurt to go near his shoulder and thigh wounds. "It's okay. Go ahead."

Carefully, Fraser peeled away the edges of the wide bandage, taking care to pull the damaged skin as little as possible. He dropped the used dressing into the small plastic tub on the bed and studied the wound. "It looks a little less inflamed and there's no seepage."

"Good to know. Guess that's progress."

Ray swallowed hard. Then he stood up and slipped off the sweatpants. He sat back down in his boxers, his legs spread. The longest and deepest gash hid behind the bandage that ran a few inches down from his crotch almost to his left knee. Still frowning, Fraser kneeled and eased off the padded gauze, exposing the jagged laceration. Both men remained silent as Fraser used his gloved fingers to check all around the edges of the puckered wound.

Ray cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice light, but failing miserably. "Looks like it's going to be a hell of a scar."

Fraser didn't look up. "I think Dr. Barnes is right, Ray. You're going to need plastic surgery, especially for this one. The scarring is too extensive to leave it like this."

"You think it's worth the trouble?"

Standing up, Fraser met his eyes and nodded. "Scar tissue isn't as strong as regular tissue, Ray. If you leave it like that, it could cause you problems later on."

"The same with the shoulder, too, huh?"

"I'm afraid so, yes."

Closing his eyes, Ray sighed. "I don't want to think about that right now. I've had about all the hospital shit I can stand for a while."

"Right now all you have to do is get a shower. When you're finished, you can shave, or, if you'd like, I can shave you. It's up to you."

Ray rubbed his fuzzy beard and smiled. "Had enough of the Grizzly Adams, huh?"

"One or two days growth is fine, Ray, but a week is taking the unkempt look a bit far."

Ray feigned insult. "I had an excuse. Besides, those electric shavers suck. They don't half work, either. Oughta get a refund."

"Which is why I'm offering my services, Ray. I don't like to sing my own praises, but I did manage to do a rather competent job filling in for Sam McGowan, the barber back home, when his wife Emily had their first child."

"You cut hair?"

"Well, the hair styling demands in the Yukon are a bit different from here in Chicago, Ray, but I did offer a variety of cuts to the gentlemen in town as well as a shave on request."

Ray ran a worried hand through his dirty hair and shook his head. "No offense, Frase, but I'm going to stick to Lila for the hair. Speaking of which, I should probably get an appointment to have something done with this mess before we leave."

"Will you be coloring it, too?"

Grinning, Ray met his partner's hungry eyes. "I might. You seem to be partial to the lighter shades."

"I like your hair any way you want to fix it." Teasing his fingers through Ray's hair, Fraser's voice became dreamy. "It's so soft. I never really expected it to be so soft." His hand dropped to Ray's whiskers. "Your beard, too. I never felt a soft beard before."

"You like that, huh?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then maybe I should leave it, not shave at all."

Fraser snapped out of his musings and shook his head. "I like the hair, Ray, but the beard really needs to go."

Teasing, Ray ran his hand under his chin, playing with his beard. "You really don't like it?"

"I like your face better."

The simple statement took Ray by surprise. "My face?"

"Your beautiful face." Using both hands, Fraser cupped his cheeks and then kissed him briefly. "Now, shower."

Ray hooked the back of Fraser's neck and drew him closer. "Another kiss first." Lips met and Ray drank in the deep heat, the flavor unique to Fraser. Pulling back, Ray whispered, "You can shower with me if you want."

"I know, but I'd rather wait until you're better."

"Okay, okay. Can't hurt to ask."

"Believe me, Ray, when it's the right time, we'll do more than shower together."

"A lot more?"

"Plenty."

"Sounds good."

Fraser led the way into the bathroom. He turned on the water, letting it run to get the temperature warm enough, but not too hot. "Ready?"

"I can do this on my own, Fraser. You don't have to stay."

"Ray, you can shower alone, but I want to be in here. I'll hand you the shampoo and conditioner when you need it. When you're finished, I'll help you dry off and put on your robe. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not embarrassed."

"Then why are you so hesitant to shower?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping the first time you saw me in the buff, it'd be a bit more sexy than this and you'd be naked, too."

"I can strip down if you prefer."

Ray chuckled and then shook his head. "Yeah, well, that's not exactly what I meant. Guess we'll save that eyefest for later."

"As you wish."

With Fraser's help, he slipped off his boxers and then carefully stepped into the hot spray. He closed the curtain and reveled in the welcome beat of water against his skin. It'd been weeks since his last shower, weeks since he last got a chance to get fully clean. Using his good hand for balance, he turned and stood face first into the full force of the shower. He smiled at the newly applied rubber grips on the bottom of the tub, Fraser's idea. Good thing, too, because he knew without a doubt that he'd probably fall and bust his ass otherwise. His balance just didn't work as well as it used to, not yet.

Being one-handed made it almost impossible to use a cloth, so he just soaped up with his free hand and rinsed off the best he could, the sudsy water warm and slick against his skin. Gritting his teeth, he kept his thoughts neutral about the raised scars, the lines all over his stomach, along his sides, and hips, across his neck. He held his good hand beyond the curtain. "Shampoo." A dollop squeezed into his hand. "Thanks."

Vigorously, he washed his hair quickly and rinsed before extending the hand once more. "I need a double wash on this stuff." Fraser dutifully gave him more shampoo and Ray proceeded to wash and massage his scalp as well as he could. Rinsing, he asked for the conditioner, which he used quickly.

Ray stood there for a few more minutes, just relishing the hot water before finally reaching down to turn off the taps. Pushing the curtain aside, he found Fraser buck naked, smiling and holding out a towel. "Ready, Ray?"

The towel muffled his laugh. If he hadn't been so suddenly cold and disadvantaged, he'd have wrestled his partner to the ground right then and there and played with that wild, uncut dick. Instead, he let Fraser rub him all over, Fraser's pale skin only seen in flashes. He got dried off and Fraser removed the plastic from his cast.

Guided into the bedroom, Ray sat on the edge of the bed as Fraser handed him his new flannel robe and then slipped on his own red long johns. Ray smiled. "I love those things."

Fraser looked down at himself. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I got jealous when you let Lady Shoes have a tour."

Blushing scarlet, Fraser shook his head. "You had nothing to worry about, I assure you, Ray."

"I don't know. You two looked awfully cozy when I first got there that night when she stayed at your place."

"Ray..."

"I'm just kidding you, Fraser. I know the dame didn't have a chance, or at least I do now."

Fraser studied him for a moment. "Did you really get jealous?"

"Well, yeah, a little, but that's just me. I guess you kind of noticed that, huh, my little green-eyed monster thing? I mean, you can't tell me you didn't figure out how much it bothered me when that lady bounty hunter almost struck a claim."

Fraser nodded thoughtfully as he buttoned up the top of his underwear. "I can't really complain, Ray. After all, I wasn't exactly the most sensitive friend when you had your failed romantic fling with Luanne."

"Romantic fling? That was no fling, that was me being a jackass, that was me trying to figure out what to do about the fact that I wanted to sleep with you more than I wanted to sleep with her."

Fraser stepped closer, his face more clouded. "Is that true? Did you really want to be with me then?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Good Lord, Ray. Why did it take so long to say something?"

"What? Your lips broken? You couldn't talk first? I mean, it's not like you can't talk, Fraser, so this is not all on me."

"Of course not, Ray. I didn't mean to suggest that..." Fraser stopped and then swallowed hard to compose himself. "I'm sorry. It doesn't really matter now. We've both been reluctant to confess our true feelings for a number of valid personal reasons. We shouldn't belabor the point."

"Right, right." Ray leaned forward, his body relaxed, but tired from the hot shower. "Look, I'm just glad we got over being so chickenshit and told the truth."

"As am I."

"It's all good then."

Fraser nodded in agreement and then stepped to the bed. He put on another pair of latex gloves and picked up the tube of antibiotic cream. He pulled down the back of Ray's robe and applied a liberal amount. Then he picked up the prepared dressing and placed it over the wound before applying the tape to the edges. He readjusted Ray's robe and then kneeled beside him, opening up the flap and exposing the red gash. Once again, he efficiently tended the injury and slipped off the gloves.

Ray remained quiet, watching his friend attend him, observing the intense and serious expression. His heart swelled with love and appreciation as Fraser looked at every part of him and didn't turn away, didn't get grossed out by all the nastiness that he still carried. Placing a hand on Fraser's head, he sighed. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome. I think we should wait until tomorrow for the shave. You should take your medicine and try to rest. You look tired."

"You going to come to bed with me or are you going to stay up and read some?"

"It's been a long day. I must confess to being a bit tired myself, so retiring early sounds very appealing."

"I'll bet. I mean, you've been taking care of me for so long, you need to take care of yourself, too." Ray combed his fingers through Fraser's dark, wavy hair. "You've been great through all this. It can't be easy."

Fraser moved to sit beside him on the bed, taking Ray's hand in his own. "The hardest part is knowing that you've been through so much and there's nothing I can do to change that."

"But you're here and you're not freaked out. That's something. That's more than a lot of people could do. Hell, it's probably harder for you than it is me when you think about it."

"I don't understand."

"Well, you know what happened. I don't, not really. You read the files, read all the details. I only remember bits and pieces. It's been over three weeks and it's still no better. I still don't remember any more than I did."

"Dr. Reese said that's not unusual for your kind of situation."

"My kind of situation." Ray repeated the words slowly, letting his bitterness spill across his tongue. "What the fuck does he know about my kind of situation? What he reads in books, what he hears from all the lame ass cops who get stuck pouring their hearts out in his office? He ever have to go through it? He ever have to know first hand what it's like to look into a guy's eyes and know, I mean really know, he's going to hurt you worse than you've ever been hurt before and then either put a bullet in your head or slice your throat? No, the prick doesn't know shit about my kind of situation, Fraser." Air tightened in his chest as he stood, the room suddenly too hot, his skin too itchy.

A strong hand caught his arm and pulled him back to the bed as Fraser tried to calm him down. "Ray, it's all right to be angry."

Jerking away, Ray stood up again, this time staying on his feet as he paced the room. "I know that. I don't need your fucking permission to be pissed."

"I didn't mean to suggest that you did. Perhaps I should sleep on the sofa tonight."

Ray stalled. "What?"

"Perhaps you need some time to yourself."

"I don't need fucking time to myself, Fraser. I need you. You're not sleeping on the fucking couch and I'm not mad at you."

"I know that, Ray."

"Then why the threat?"

"Threat?"

"Yeah, threat to sleep on the couch? I mean, that's a Stella routine, only it's me in the doghouse, me who has to sleep on the couch because Stella's pissed and raving about something that's got nothin' to do with me."

Fraser looked lost, tugging on his ear. "I don't know what to say to that, Ray. I'm not Stella. We don't even have a doghouse."

The temper rolled away and Ray sagged on the bed beside Fraser, suddenly defeated. "No, you're not Stella, not even close. I just meant that sometimes when she'd get pissed about something that had nothing to do with me, I'd pay for it anyway. Some Joe down at the DA's would give her a hard time and she'd come home late and pick a fight with me. Sure, sometimes we'd fuck like crazy when we finally made up, but towards the end, it wasn't like that. I'd end up sleeping alone. It got old, Fraser, really old."

"I'm sorry, Ray. It sounds lonely."

"It was. Funny, I never really thought about how bad it was. I mean, I knew we had problems, but it was the only life I knew, so I fought like hell to keep it, even though deep down inside, I knew I'd be better off to just cut her loose and move on."

Ray took a deep breath and faced Fraser. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blow up like that. It's just when I go nuts, please don't do the sleep on the couch thing. I have a really hard time with that. If we're together, we're together, no running to the living room until Ray stops acting crazy, okay? Just kick me in the head or let me rant until it's over. I blow up big, but it doesn't usually last long."

Fraser sighed and touched his cheek briefly before looking down at his hands. "It's just very difficult to see you so angry, Ray. I know it's not really me, but it's hard."

"Jesus, I'm a prick. I'm sorry."

"I know."

"That I'm a prick?"

"That you're sorry."

Foreheads together, they remained quiet for several long seconds before Ray lifted his head. "We should have some kind of secret password."

"Secret password?"

"Yeah, some kind of secret code so you can let me know I'm being an asshole, you know, like when I start blowing off steam and you get caught up in the blast. That way you've got a way to let me know that you know what's going on."

Fraser's brow wrinkled. "I'm afraid I have no idea what that means, Ray."

"Sure you do, sure you do. It's simple. I get a little crazy and go off and instead of you saying you should sleep on the couch, you could say something like Turtle or James Dean. That lets me know that you're not going to leave, that you understand that I'm not mad at you no matter how much I carry on." Ray took Fraser's hand and squeezed, his voice pleading. "Because I'm not, Fraser, I'm not mad at you, ever. You've got to know that. I need you to stick around and not get hurt because I lose it every now and then, cause it's going to happen. I can't seem to stop it right now. I'm all kind of twisted up inside and I try to keep it down, but it just slips out before I can stop it."

"It's all right, Ray. I understand, though I'm not so sure about this secret password plan."

"Too complicated?"

"Too unnecessary. If you need to vent, then I'll let you vent. If you get too abusive, I'll simply tell you to stop."

"Stop?"

"Yes."

Ray bit his lower lip. "I'm not so sure stop will do the trick here, Fraser. It's too much like you're bossing me around."

"Bossing you around?"

"Yeah, and when I'm pissed, that might just make things worse. I mean, it might work, and it might not. I just don't know. It's not like my brain is working all reasonable when I'm freaking out."

"And Turtle or James Dean would be so different in terms of context that instead of making you more upset, it would jar you from whatever angry frame of mind you might be in." Fraser nodded, a small smile on his face. "Actually, that makes sense, Ray."

"It does?"

"Yes." Fraser relaxed. "So, do you prefer Turtle or James Dean?"

"How about eclipse?"

"Eclipse? Any particular reason?"

Ray shrugged, still holding Fraser's hand. "You gave me something really special that day, and I'm not talking about just the dream catcher and the party, though those were cool, too." Meeting Fraser's eyes, Ray whispered, "I'm talking about your friendship, the best gift I've ever had."

"Then eclipse it is." Fraser kissed him briefly before standing. "Let me get your medication and then we can get some sleep."

"Sure."

As Fraser left the room, Ray leaned over, his head in hand. He knew full well that he needed a lot more than a password to cut out the madness growing wild in his gut, the pain like a living thing spitting venom into his brain. The rot made him sick, almost too pale to keep breathing. But he kept taking in air, kept praying that Fraser still loved him. Ray knew that faith in Fraser's devotion allowed him to live when sometimes he'd rather be dead. He also knew that Fraser could never find out, never be allowed to discover just how ugly it sometimes got in his head, how close he came to calling it quits when the darkness swarmed in all around him.

"There's no hiding from the truth, Son."

Fraser looked up from the kitchen table and the morning paper, frowning at his father. "What truth is that?"

"The Yank's not getting better."

Sighing, Fraser glanced over at the bedroom door. It stood slightly ajar, Ray's sleeping form just visible through the narrow opening. "I know."

"You could lose him. What do you plan to do about it?"

Words choked in his throat. "What do you suggest? I can't force him to see a doctor."

"Do you really think that's the answer?"

"I think we've pretty much established I don't know the answer."

His father stepped closer, his face more grim than Fraser could ever remember since he was a child. "He has to face what happened."

"Why is that so important?"

"I think you know why. He can't move on if he's using all his energy hiding from the truth. It didn't work for me and it won't work for him."

Fraser met his father's troubled eyes. "What do you mean, it didn't work for you?"

"You think that dying is the worst thing that can happen to a person, Son? I assure you, it's not. When your mother died, that was the worst, that was almost more than I could manage. I've been where the Yank is, and I'm here to tell you, that dying is easy compared to living when you feel gutted and empty, when you feel like you've been forced beyond what any reasonable person, man or woman, should ever have to bear. There were times when walking in front of some criminal's bullet seemed like the right thing to do. Grief muddles one's thinking, no doubt about it."

Frightened by the gravity of his father's words, Fraser worked to control his own voice. "What can I do?"

"Be a good partner."

"I'm doing the best I can."

"You have to do more. You're still holding back, still being reserved. Why should he be honest with you if you're not going to return the favor? Partnership is about trusting enough to share, both the good and the bad. Your mother understood that. I think deep down, you'll know when it happens. Logic is all well and good, but it's not the answer to every problem. That's why you need the Yank and why he needs you. He's on the edge and you have to be right there beside him. He'll decide for himself, but you've got to let him know your faith in him hasn't been shaken by what's happened, that he hasn't lost your trust in his good nature."

Shocked, Fraser stood up. "My faith in Ray is as strong as ever. What happened wasn't his fault."

"Think about who you're talking to, Son. You can't hide from the truth. You have to deal with your own troubles, rational or not, before you can ever hope to help the Yank. I'm just here to let you know that you don't have much time left to make it right. The Yank's the impulsive type, just like your mother."

"Make what right? I don't understand."

Before his father could answer, the phone rang and he disappeared as fast as he showed up. Frustrated, Fraser picked up the receiver quickly to keep from waking Ray. "Constable Fraser speaking."

"Constable, it's Lieutenant Welsh."

"Lieutenant, it nice to hear from you."

"I hope you still think so when I tell you what I've found out."

The rough tone chilled him and Fraser glanced uneasily at the bedroom doorway. He worked to keep his voice quiet. "What is it?"

"The Feds have a tape of the assault."

Fraser sagged to his chair, his eyes closed, his head about to explode. "How is that possible?"

"Good question. Is there a way you can come into the station later today without alerting your partner?"

"I suppose so. He said he wanted to get his hair cut by someone named Lila."

"Good. Call me right before you get away. We need to talk and figure out what to do about this mess."

Swallowing hard, Fraser struggled to keep his words steady. "Have you seen the tape, sir?"

Several seconds of silence followed and Fraser heard the long sigh at the other end of the line. "Yes, Constable, and I can safely say, I wish I hadn't."

"Dear Lord."

"I'm sorry, Constable. I need your input about what to do."

"Do?"

"Kowalski has a right to know about the tape, but I'm just not sure we should tell him. That's why I need to see you."

"Yes, sir, I understand. Ray's still sleeping. When he wakes, I'll have a better idea of our schedule."

"Just don't let him get wind of why you're coming to see me. I don't want him going off the deep end, thinking we're keeping secrets."

"But we are keeping secrets."

"With good reason."

Fraser couldn't argue with that, so he didn't.

"Fraser, you okay? You're acting a little twitchy."

"I'm fine, Ray. More coffee?"

Ray settled back against the kitchen chair and shook his head. "I might be on leave, but I'm still a good detective. Something's going on, so give."

Fraser avoided meeting his eyes. "I didn't sleep well."

"And that's it?"

"I was just wondering what you wanted to do today. Perhaps, you should give your friend Lila a call and get your hair done like you wanted."

"Good distraction tactic there, Frase."

Fraser looked up, annoyed. "I'm just suggesting a simple plan of action."

"And now you're pissed because I'm onto ya. Come on, what's wrong? Long johns too tight in all the wrong places? Dief eat the last doughnut?"

Frustrated, Fraser shook his head. "If you must know, it's my father."

"What's the old man done now?"

"He's not so old."

"He's dead, Fraser, so he's not getting any older. Besides, it's just an expression. So, what did he say that's got you all bent out of shape?"

"It's rather personal."

"Personal?"

"Yes."

Ray sipped the last of his coffee, his heart beating faster, his chest tight from the sting of exclusion. "That your way of saying butt out and mind your own damn business?"

"It's just that it was rather upsetting and I haven't quite figured out how to deal with it yet."

"Maybe I could help? Ever thought about that? Ever thought that I might be able to help rather than just be a burden?"

Stunned, Fraser faced him. "Burden? Is that what you think? You think you're a burden to me?"

"Well, yeah, sometimes, especially right now. It's not like I'm pulling my own weight while I'm laid up."

"You're an idiot, Ray."

Shocked by the spontaneous outburst, Ray just sat there, his mouth open. After a few seconds of lag time, he grinned. "An idiot, huh?"

"You think that's funny?"

"What? Being an idiot? Sure, why not? It's not like we don't know it's the truth."

"God, you're so exasperating. You have no idea how much I love you. You are not a burden, Ray, not ever. We're partners. Partners help one another when they need it. Right now you're the one who needs it. Who's to say down the line, I won't need you, too?"

"So you're saying you don't need me now?"

"Dear God, that's not what I meant at all. I need you now more than ever." Fraser stumbled over his words. "I'm making a mess of this. My father's right, I'm a miserable partner."

"The old coot said that?"

"Something like it. He said I had troubles of my own that were keeping me from letting you fully trust me."

"What kind of troubles?"

"He didn't say. He was his usual enigmatic, irritating self."

Ray leaned in, his voice strained. "But you've got to know what it is that's bugging you. So what is it?"

"That's the problem, Ray. I don't know. I keep going over what he said and it makes no sense. He said that I was keeping you at a distance, but I don't believe that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"What?"

"It's the truth. You're doing it now. You told me the whole thing was personal, like it was some big secret, like I'm not part of the really important stuff in your life. You say you love me, but you don't let me know what's really going on with you sometimes." Anger flushed Fraser's cheeks as he stood up and walked over to the counter. He crossed his arms and took several calming breaths, but didn't say anything. "See, you're doing it right now."

"Doing what?"

"Locking yourself down."

"I don't like fighting, Ray."

"Too bad. You say you love me, but you won't let me near you, not the you that matters. Even when you're touching me, I feel like there's a part of you that's not really there, like you live in your head. You let yourself edge in, but just so close, and then you back off, get all distant and detached. Tell me I'm wrong, tell me to fuck off, tell me something."

Ray waited, watching his partner struggle with the demand. Finally, Fraser found his voice, a mere whisper. "You're not wrong. But it's not you, Ray. It's just really hard to trust myself with feelings."

"I know that. They scare the hell out of you. I get that loud and clear."

"But do you know why?"

"I can guess, but I'd rather you tell me. That's the whole point, Frase. I need you to trust me enough to tell me."

Fraser stepped back to the table and sat down in the chair next to Ray's, every muscle still tense and on guard. "I will on one condition."

"Shit, more conditions."

"But it's a fair one, Ray."

"Okay. What?"

"You have to trust me, too. You have to tell me what you're really feeling inside, no pretending that you feel fine when it's obvious that you don't." Fraser reached for his hand again and this time Ray let him take it, hold it between both of his own. "You tell me to trust you, to bare my heart to you, and yet you keep a part of yourself separate, a part I think you believe I can't handle."

Ray dropped his eyes from Fraser's intense gaze. "Why would I do that?"

"You tell me."

Ray wanted to pull away and run for cover, but instead, he overcame his impulse to lie. "I love you, Fraser. It's hard to tell you how I really feel when what I really feel is so scary."

Fraser squeezed his hand, his words strong and steady. "Maybe it won't feel so scary if you share it. I think that's what my father was trying to say, that we both have feelings that will hurt us if we keep hiding from them or if we keep hiding them from one another."

"Like your fear of getting too close?"

"Like your depression?"

"Noticed that, huh?"

"I'm a detective, too, Ray."

"A good one." Ray paused and then sighed. "I didn't want you to know how bad it was."

"How bad is it?"

"Bad, but it comes and goes. It's not constant bad, just mostly bad."

Fraser leaned in, never letting go of Ray's hand. "Tell me what to do to make it good again."

"I don't know. I don't have an answer for that, but I can tell you what will make it better."

"What?"

"Tell me what you're really afraid of."

Fraser didn't hesitate this time, but Ray didn't see the answer coming. "You."

"Me?"

"The sheer force of you, Ray, is overwhelming. I can't think straight when I'm near you unless I compartmentalize some part of myself for safekeeping. I suppose it's a coping mechanism I developed because I don't always trust the power of my own emotions."

"And that scares you, these emotions?"

"Yes."

"And I cause strong emotions? Good ones or bad ones?"

"Depends on who you ask."

Ray refused to be distracted. "I'm asking you. Good or bad?"

"Mostly good. Love, desire, hope for the future."

"And the bad?"

"Frustration. Sometimes pain."

"Pain?"

Fraser wet his bottom lip. "It's hurts to see you in so much pain and not be able to fix it, to take it away."

Nodding, Ray considered the answers carefully, grateful for Fraser's honesty. "I get that. I feel the same way when you talk about things that hurt you, too. But, what I don't get is why you're as freaked by the good feelings as the bad. Why are you so afraid of feeling good?"

Fraser shook his head. "I don't know, Ray."

"I think you do."

"I assure you that..."

"Assure me all you want, Fraser, but you have to know why you're so terrified of feeling good, of letting your guard down." Ray leaned in and whispered the command. "Tell me."

Hesitation stretched time like rain slashing through thick fog. Finally, Fraser spoke quietly. "It hurts too much."

"Like it did with Victoria and Bullweather, right?" Fraser just nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. "So, you're going to make me pay for their sins, Fraser? Make me suffer because they were assholes who didn't appreciate a good thing?"

Fraser looked at him, his face pale. "I don't mean to, Ray."

"Then don't. Don't be afraid of letting me make you feel good."

"You make me feel good just by being alive, Ray."

It was Ray's turn to blush. "Talk about easy."

"Your struggle to stay alive has been anything but easy."

"I wasn't talking about me. I was talking about how easy it is to make you feel good if it only takes me to make you happy."

"You do make me happy, Ray, more happy than I've ever been." Fraser sat back, the whole idea of dealing with his feelings exhausting. "I want to relax, Ray, I do. But undoing learned behaviors is often harder than reinforcing new ones."

"Tell me about it. I know it ain't easy." Ray got up and paced the living room a few times, suddenly more energized. "I've got it. Why don't I shave and get my hair done? Then the two of us can spend the day buying some stuff we need for our trip. It'll be fun. And we can even get Turtle his new tank. We could make a day of it. We can just run around and feel good together. It'll be great."

"Ray, that plan seems rather ambitious. You just got out of the hospital. Perhaps, we could just do personal hygiene. Then we could see how you're feeling after that."

"You think I'll be too tired to shop for mukluks?"

Fraser laughed. "Could be. I'm not even sure they sell mukluks in Chicago."

"Or if I'd wear them if they did." Ray grinned and ran a hand through his flat hair. "You're probably right. Look, why don't I call Lila and get an appointment while you get the stuff ready for shaving?"

"Certainly."

As Fraser stood to go to gather his supplies, Ray stepped closer. "We'll work this all out, Frase. It won't hurt to feel good, or at least not so much that you won't keep trying. I promise."

Fraser nodded without answering, his face worn and tired. Ray watched, still uneasy, his detective's mind working out what his partner was still trying to hide.

Ray relaxed under the hot towel with his eyes closed, the heat making him sleepy. Fraser lifted the cloth away and then layered the warm shaving cream over the beard, his fingers massaging it down to the skin. "Feels good."

"It'll be nice to see your face again."

"I shouldn't have let it go this long."

"It's not a problem, Ray. It just takes a little longer to take off."

"No hurry. Lila said she couldn't see me until eleven."

"Actually, I'm surprised you got in that quickly."

"Yeah, me, too, but I told her I was leaving on vacation and I could advertise her stuff to a whole new market up in the middle of nowhere."

Fraser chuckled and then wiped off his hands. He picked up the newly sharpened straight razor and tilted Ray's chin. "You need to be still while I do this, Ray."

Opening his eyes, Ray jerked back, his body suddenly cold. "What the fuck?"

Startled, Fraser held very still. "What's wrong?"

Air stopped moving as Ray shuddered and curled in on himself. Waves of pain rolled over him as a voice hissed poison. "You think you're going to die today, but you're not, not yet."

"God." Struggling to get to his feet, Ray lurched to the kitchen sink and heaved. He retched over and over until his stomach emptied completely, a cold sweat all over his body. A supportive hand held his back as he slid down the cabinet.

"Ray?"

"Give me a minute." Ray gulped through the queasiness as he worked desperately to calm his racing heart, to convince himself Clooney was dead and not in his head, no where near him. He cleared his throat and took several quick breaths. "Fuck."

"What just happened here, Ray?"

"The razor."

"What about the razor?"

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I can't do it, can't let you put that thing to my throat."

"Dear God, Ray, I'm so sorry. I never even thought about how that must look to you after what happened."

"Me, neither." Ray closed his eyes and let his head lean back against the hard wood of the cabinet behind him. "Sorry. It was too much like...like, well, like, you know."

"Yes, Ray, I do know."

Fraser moved to cleaned his face gently. "We'll find another way to do this."

Ray stilled Fraser's hand. "No. Wait."

"Ray, you can keep the beard or we'll use the electric razor."

"No, I need to do this. It's not like you're going to cut me. I know that." Ray gritted his teeth and stood up slowly, using Fraser's arm to bring him to his feet. "I want to try again. I just need to take it slow."

"Are you sure?"

Ray met concerned blue eyes. "I trust you, Fraser. I can't let this guy win. I want him out of my head. I've got to do this."

Nodding, Fraser reluctantly moved back to the chair and waited for Ray to sit down. Swallowing back his own terror, Ray bit his lip, the soap making him want to gag again. He fought it down and then put the towel back around his neck. "Okay, okay, maybe if you just talked while you did it, maybe tell a story or something like you sometimes do. Then maybe I can do this."

"Perhaps a song?"

"Sure, sure, a song might do the trick."

Ray took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting Fraser's hand guide the position of his head while he shaved him so very slowly and carefully. He focused on his friend's fine tenor, on the power of the beautiful voice that soothed him. The words didn't make sense, but the melody kept his mind calmer than his traitorous breathing. As he listened carefully, he remembered the song, the Inuit love song from the hospital. Funny. One of the few times he ever wanted to learn a foreign language and it had to be one where his tongue would never manage all the chopped up syllables. Still, Fraser did okay, more than okay, sang it like a real love song from one lover to another. God, how much did he love Fraser? More than Stella? Not even in the same universe, that's how much he loved Fraser. He never knew he could love anyone that much, more than he ever believed possible.

Fraser kept singing and Ray listened intently, knowing that if he stopped, he'd be lost all over again, lost with Clooney at his throat and starting all over.

After a while, a heated palm cupped his clean cheek. "I'm finished, Ray. You can open your eyes now."

Ray nodded, his own voice nowhere to be found as Fraser let him cry it out, holding him gently against his solid chest.

Lila turned out to be a young woman with orange hair wilder than Ray’s on a good day. "Ray!" She yelled out across the salon and came running, throwing her arms around Ray, hugging him, and then standing back to shake her head. "Oh, my God, Ray, what the fuck have you been up to?"

"Losing every bar fight in Chicago. How about you, Babe?"

Still shaking her head, she fingered his cast. "We could dye this to match your hair, if you want."

"I don't think so, Lila. Fraser here wouldn't like it."

For the first time she turned her attention to Fraser, who smiled and took off his hat. Ray grinned, loving every minute. Now that he had Fraser for himself, he got a real kick out of how women reacted to his partner. "Jesus, Ray, is this the famous Constable Fraser?"

"The one and only."

"Wow. Fucking gorgeous. Lucky you."

Fraser blushed again and Ray laughed. "Fraser, this is Lila Terrance."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Terrance. I've been an admirer of your hair styling for some time now. You've got a remarkable gift for bringing out the inner character of your clients."

She giggled lightly and held out her hand. "Well, thank you kindly, Constable Fraser. Ray's got quite a character to bring out."

Fraser turned even redder. Ray nudged him. "I've mentioned you once or twice, Frase. It's sort of a catch phrase now."

"I see."

"And what a gorgeous dog."

Ray grinned proudly. "That's Dief and he's a wolf."

Lila squatted down, petting Dief's muzzle and then ruffling his fur. Dief lapped up the attention and yipped in appreciation. "Bet he hates the smell in this place."

"Wolves have an incredibly heightened olfactory sense. He did complain briefly that the chemicals made his nose sting. "

"Complained?"

Before she could ask any further questions, Ray interrupted. "So, what do you think you can do with this mess, Lila?"

Standing up, moving away from Dief, Lila ran her fingers through Ray's flat, light brown hair. "You definitely need a trim here. We going for the full works, color, too?"

"Sure, I'd like that."

"And I'll pay, Ray."

"You're not paying to have my hair done, Fraser."

"I don't see why not. I'm the one who gets to enjoy it the most."

Lila cackled and Ray blushed harder than Fraser. He couldn't believe such a blatant statement, one that no one would mistake for simple friendship, especially not someone like Lila.

"Oh, Ray, I'm so happy for you." She kissed him on his cheek, leaving bright red lipstick all over. Then she kissed Fraser. "It's on the house, a wedding present from me to you." She shook her head in admiration. "God, you lucky dog, Fraser. Ray here's a great catch."

Instead of being embarrassed, Fraser beamed. "Thank you kindly, Ms. Terrance. I happen to agree wholeheartedly."

"Call me Lila."

"Lila, your gift is much appreciated, and while we've not had a formal ceremony as of yet, when we do, you'll certainly be invited."

Flustered, Ray didn't know what to think. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray? Is there a problem?"

Lila piped in. "Yeah, Ray, is there a problem?"

"I'm not sure, but I think we've just been outed."

Giggling again, Lila shook her head. "Do I look shocked to you?" She leaned in, lowering her voice to a safer level, but the tease still there. "I hate to break it to you, Ray, but it's not really a big surprise."

"It's not?"

"Not since you started talking about Fraser here like I talk about Anna."

Fraser interrupted, "Anna?"

"My girlfriend."

"Ah."

"Ah?"

"Never mind him. He does that, the ah thing."

"Gotcha. Anyway, I talk about Anna the way you talk about Fraser. You know I've got no problem with you guys being together, right?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"But what?"

Ray glanced over at Fraser, who nodded as if reading his mind. "I'm sorry, Ray. You're right. We should have discussed it first."

"Actually, I thought we did. I thought we were just going to keep a low profile about this."

Lila stood up straighter. "Look, maybe you guys want some alone time to talk things over?"

Ray shook his head as he used a tissue to wipe off the lipstick from his own face and then off Fraser's. "No, that's okay. You're busy and you've got other people after me, so let's do the hair thing." He met Fraser's eyes and smiled. "Fraser and me, we'll talk later, right, Frase?"

"Absolutely, Ray. Meanwhile, while you're busy, I need to run a few errands."

"Errands? What kind of errands?"

"Nothing important." Fraser turned to Dief and kneeled to make sure the wolf could see his face clearly. "Stay with Ray until I return."

Lila nudged Ray. "What's he doing?"

"Dief's deaf."

"Really? So why's he talking to him?"

"He reads lips."

"Fraser?"

Ray sighed. He loved Lila, but she wasn't always the brightest crayon in the box. "No, Dief reads lips."

"Oh, I get it."

Fraser stood up and turned back to Lila. "How long will this process take?"

"You can come back in an hour and he should be ready, prettier than ever."

"Thank you." He turned his attention to Ray. "I'll be back shortly."

Ray reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Here. Take this."

"Why?"

"In case I need to call you."

Reluctantly, Fraser took it, his face suddenly more serious. "I don't have to go, Ray. I could stay here."

"And be bored? Just go and have a good time. Take a walk or whatever."

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"I'll be fine. Me and Dief, we'll be A-okay, real buddies. I'm just being stupid. You go run your errands." He wet his lower lip, his words suddenly more quiet. "Just don't forget to come back."

"You don't have to worry, Ray. I won't forget." He put the cell phone in his coat pocket and turned to leave, then hesitated. Stepping back, he whispered in Ray's ear. "I love you."

Ray still wore the goofy grin when he went to sit in Lila's work station. Settling into the raised chair, he took a deep breath. He lost his smile when he looked in the mirror. Even without his glasses, he saw the haggard image staring back. Jesus, he looked like shit, sick with hollowed out eyes, sunken cheeks, the bright red slash across his throat not quite as healed as he thought. The fading bruises still yellowed his face and made him look ten years older. Fuck, no wonder everybody kept staring.

He jerked upright as Lila's hand on his shoulder surprised him.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just jumpy."

"It's okay, Sweetie." She kissed his head and draped him. "Let's move to the sink and give this mop a good wash first. Then I'll cut it and then color. Okay?"

"Sure. Sounds good."

Lila guided him to the chair and leaned his head back. He winced at the unexpected pain. "You okay?"

"Fine. Just got a cut on my right shoulder."

"Here. Lift up. I can do this without you being so far back."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. Don't be such a fucking martyr."

Grudgingly, he let her move the chair closer and sure enough, it didn't hurt quite as much. Even if it had, he sure as hell wouldn't have let Lila know. He relaxed as she washed his hair, the suds and warm water comforting somehow. She rinsed him off and then put a towel over his head before moving him back to the chair at her station. She took off the towel and talked to him while he faced the mirror. "So, how short do you want to go?"

"You know what looks good. You decide."

Nodding, she smiled. "You're going to be fucking gorgeous when I'm through."

"Not as fucking gorgeous as Fraser."

Lila laughed and tapped his shoulder playfully. "You've got your own fabulous thing going on, Honey. Now, let's make you even more fine for your prince."

Ray couldn't help it, he smiled, relieved that he didn't have to hide what Fraser meant to him, what they meant to each other. As she started snipping, Ray asked, "So, how long you and Anna been together?"

"We've been living together just over a year. We were friends for over three years before that."

"Why'd it take so long for you two to get together?"

"Anna was married. The guy left her for another woman and she just wasn't ready to get with anyone too soon after that. Plus, there was the whole am I or am I not thing."

"Am I or am I not what thing?"

"The am I or am I not a lesbian thing."

"And she didn't know that before?"

"Did you?"

"I've never been a lesbian, ever, no matter what anybody says. I swear."

"You know what I mean, Ray. How long after Stella did you know you might go for guys?"

"One guy, and it took a while."

"Then you know what it was like for Anna. She didn't want to disappoint her parents and she's a teacher, so she had to deal with that, too."

"Yeah, I remember. You said she teaches third grade."

"At St. Mary's. It was hard for her. I think most of the people have figured it out, but they don't say anything about it. I just don't get to go to any of her school functions. We'll do the whole roommate thing unless she decides to teach some place where it won't matter."

"Where would that be?"

"In public school she wouldn't have to pretend I'm just her roomie to keep her job." Lila frowned as she continued snipping his hair. "But I don't push it. It has to be up to her."

"If she taught in public school, she could claim you as a domestic partner, right?"

"Yeah." Lila tilted her head as she studied Ray's hair in the mirror before she clipped some more across the top. "What about you? You going to be able to be out and still be a cop?"

"I don't know yet."

"You going to look into it?"

Swallowing hard, Ray closed his eyes and sighed. "This is all new to me, Lila. I don't know. I just don't. The guys I work with, well, you know how it is."

Lila stopped cutting and spoke softer. "I hope it works out, Ray. I really do. He seems like a really sweet guy."

Ray nodded and smiled again. "Yeah, he is."

Lila grinned, too, her voice teasing again. "So, you want to go blond for your honey?"

"Yeah, yeah, he likes that."

"Blond it is then."

She donned a pair of plastic gloves and stirred up the goop. "You're more pale than you were. I think we'll go for soft blond, not too brassy this time."

"You know best."

Lila layered the thick mixture on his hair, the smell strong. He knew Dief's poor nose must be hurting. She slipped a plastic cap on his head and led him to the dryer. "Five minutes, then rinse. I'll be in the back, but I'll keep an eye on you, okay?"

"Sure. No problem."

Ray closed his eyes, relaxing under the heated air of the dryer, wondering what the hell Fraser was up to. Errands his ass. He knew that look. Fraser went somewhere he didn't want Ray to know about. In his mind, he checked off a whole list of possibilities, but before he could pick one over another, Lila showed up to take care of business.

"Looking good there, Ray. Rinse time."

Once again, but more thoroughly, she rinsed out his hair, washing it again and then also adding conditioner that smelled like strawberries. Then she toweled him to almost dry before leading him back to the chair. She put some gel on her fingers to work his hair up into spikes while she blew it completely dry. By the time she finished, he looked almost like his old self again, almost. Not much she could do about the dark circles, bruises, and scars, but his hair looked wicked. "I like it."

"You look great." She patted his shoulder, proud of her work.

"You sure I can't pay you for it?"

"You do and I'll have to hurt you."

"You think you could take me?"

"From the looks of you right now, Honey, I could take you without breaking a sweat." She kept her voice light, but her eyes didn't have the usual bright sparkle. "Look, Ray, you don't have to tell me what really happened. That's not my business. But if you need anything, you can call me."

"You already gave me what I needed. Thanks."

Ray stood up and got a big hug before he motioned for Dief to follow. He headed for the pay phone to call Fraser and to find out where the hell his partner really went.

Fraser sat numbly, his hand to his mouth, his eyes too blurry to see straight.

"I'm sorry, Constable, but I thought you needed to know exactly what they've got."

Nodding, Fraser found his voice, but just barely. "Understood, Lieutenant, but Ray can't see this."

"I agree, but the thing is, if he finds out that the tape exists, you know what he's going to think."

"That we lied to him."

"Even if we don't say the words."

"He'll consider it lying by omission."

"I'm afraid so, yes."

Fraser finally blinked to clear his sight, but still struggled to keep his composure. "What do you suggest?"

"That's why I wanted to talk to you. What do you think we should do?" Ray's cries of pain echoed in Fraser's head, the cruel images of his torture freefalling through his brain. "Constable? Fraser? Are you with me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm having a problem concentrating on this."

"Would you like some time alone to pull yourself together?"

Swallowing hard, Fraser shook his head. "No, I don't have much time. I promised Ray I'd be back to pick him up soon."

"Then what do you think we should do about the tape?"

"I suppose destroying it is out of the question?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I only got a copy because the State's Attorney's office got access when the Feds had to finally disclose all the evidence before finalizing the case. Apparently, Crenshaw wanted to keep it under wraps, like he could possibly do that with something this important."

Fraser's breath stalled. "Mrs. Kowalski has seen this?"

Welsh didn't meet his eyes. "She's the one who brought it to me. She's the one who asked me what I thought she should do about it."

"Dear God."

"I know the feeling. She did say she was moving to have it permanently sealed. That means only people directly involved with the case would ever have access and it would never be seen in open court. Ever."

"That would still mean Ray could see it."

"Yes, but only if he insisted."

Fraser shook his head, but it didn't clear his mind much. "We have to tell him that it exists, but we also have to convince him it'd be in his best interest to never see it."

"He's going to be angry as hell and I don't blame him." The words choked. "He didn't deserve that."

"Nobody deserves that."

"I know that. I just meant...hell, you know what I meant." Welsh grabbed a tissue to wipe his eyes before blowing his nose. "Damn allergies."

"These old buildings are notorious for the propagation of mold spores."

"Aren't they just." Controlling himself once again, Welsh cleared his throat. "Okay, so you think we should tell him?"

"As you well know, Ray is an excellent detective, and while it's not extreme, he does tend to have a somewhat paranoid nature that causes him to be acutely aware when someone is being secretive. He'd find out and that would only make matters worse. He needs to be able to trust us."

"Even if he'd be better off not knowing?"

"Even if, yes, sir."

"God, I was afraid you were going to say that."

"I'll tell him."

Welsh nodded. "I figured as much, but I don't envy you."

Fraser stood up, his hands still shaky. "Sir, what's the policy on civilian personnel like myself seeing one of your human resource providers?"

"About your partner?"

"About myself."

Welsh didn't look that surprised. "I'm sure Dr. Reese or one of the others would be more than happy to see you, Constable. Would you like me to call?"

"No, sir. I'll do that. I would appreciate it if you would tell Mrs. Kowalski that we'd be grateful for any help in keeping this matter confidential."

"Already done. Believe me, Constable, Mrs. Kowalski is just as upset about all this as you are. She was married to the man for fifteen years, almost since they were kids apparently. It can't be easy."

Nodding, Fraser didn't look up. "I'm sure it's not."

"Just like it's not easy for you, either."

Fraser met Welsh's steady gaze. "Sir?"

"He's your partner and you're right in the middle."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I know."

Fraser had no doubt that he did. "Thank you, sir."

"Keep me informed."

"Yes, sir."

Then Fraser quietly put on his hat, walked down the hall to the restroom, and got thoroughly sick to his stomach.

Ray kicked the wall outside the salon, wondering where the hell Fraser went and why the hell he didn’t answer the damn cell phone. He pulled up the collar of his jacket to fight off the cold. He should go back into the warm building, but he didn't want to, didn't want to deal with all the whispers and stares aimed in his direction. A voice startled him. "Ray? Is that you?"

Fuck. Ray put on a fake smile and turned. "Hey, Jason."

"Jesus, who fucked you over in a dark alley?"

"It's a long story." He studied the young man, over six feet, too thin, black hair sticking out all over. He wondered how a detective's son could look any less like a cop's kid. "How's the old man? Still busting his ass down at the one seven?"

"I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, it's not like Dad and I talk much since he and Mom broke up. He's too busy hanging out with his new wife and her kids."

Ray smacked himself mentally. He'd forgotten Hayes had gotten remarried. "What about school?"

"Dropped out."

"How come?"

Jason took a deep drag off his cigarette and shrugged his shoulders. "College is boring shit, you know? Couldn't see wasting any more money or time. What about you? You waiting for somebody?"

"Yeah, my partner. He's late."

"That your dog?"

"He's a wolf."

Jason extended a hand only to jerk it back quickly when Dief moved in front of Ray with a low, protective growl.

"Shit."

"Sorry." Ray frowned, puzzled by Dief's odd reaction. "That's weird. He usually likes people." Ray touched the thick fur and soothed him, getting the wolf to at least sit down and stop eying Jason like his favorite lunchmeat.

"Didn't know you could have wolves in the city."

"He's Canadian."

"So?"

"So, he's visiting."

"Whatever." Jason took a few more draws off his cigarette and then threw it on the ground, stamping it out with his boot. "So, you look like shit, man, but you probably know that."

"Look, what do you want, Jason?"

"I was thinking maybe I could help you out."

"Help me out?"

"Yeah. I mean, that arm must hurt like hell and you're bound to be taking something already. I figured, maybe you might need a taste of something a little stronger."

Ray snorted and shook his head. "You know I'm a cop, right?"

"So?"

"So, don't be such a dumbshit. You're offering to deal to a cop. You like sitting on your ass behind bars better than going to school? Or is this some kind of payback for your dad dumping your mom? You figure you get arrested and it makes dear old dad look bad in front of the guys he works with?"

"Nah, man, nothing like that. I just thought you could use a little help that's all. I mean, I know doctors get stingy with shit and I know how much it fucking hurts to break something. Been there when I busted my leg. Anyway, I got this friend who gave me some good stuff, the real thing, not homemade shit." Jason took out another cigarette and lit up, taking several deep puffs before he continued. "It's just you were always okay with me, treating me like a person, not some stupid kid, not like some of the pussies and shitheads my dad works with. The stuff's free if you want it, but if you don't, just say so. No harm done. I walk away, no questions."

Mouth dry, Ray tilted his head and cracked his neck, not really sure how to take the whole thing. Even if he weren't on leave from the job, he couldn't arrest the kid, not without a hell of a lot of hassle. "You got the stuff on you?"

"You going to bust me if I say yes?"

"No, but I might kick your ass if you lie."

Reluctantly, Justin dropped his cigarette on the ground and took a brown plastic bottle out of his pocket. "I could've just sold them. They're worth ten bucks a pop."

"And your dad's job if you get caught selling."

"They can't do anything to my dad because of me."

"Internal Affairs would be all over his ass. You know what IA's like and as much as you might be pissed at you dad, I don't think even you want that to happen." Ray held out his hand. "Give it here."

Jason handed him the bottle and then crossed his arms. "What are you going to do? You going to tell my dad?"

"I ought to."

"You gonna?"

Ray put the pills in his jacket pocket and shook his head. "Do me a favor."

"I ain't going back to school."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"What then?"

"I want you to go see your dad."

"Why should I? What business is that of yours?"

"It's not my business. It's just I know your dad and he cares about you. Talked about you all the time, about how good you are, about how he wants you to grow up happy."

"That's bullshit."

Ray stepped closer, his voice low and tight, not letting the young man back too far away. He kept his eyes level with Jason's and didn't look away a single time. "What's bullshit is trying to fuck up your life just so you can fuck with your old man because he did something you don't like. What's bullshit is pretending it don't matter. If you're pissed, then tell him you're pissed, flat out. I've known a lot of cops and your dad's one of the good guys. Sure, he left your mom and I can understand why you'd be mad about that. The thing is, you're always going to be his son and if you really want to hurt him, the best way to do that is to stay out of his life. But if you don't, then go see him and try to find some way to get past all this shit between you."

"You done?"

Ray backed up. "Yeah, I'm done."

"What about the pills?"

"What about'em?"

"You going to turn them in?"

"Too many questions. Toilets flush fine."

"You're going to flush'em?"

"Safest bet."

Jason stared at him a few extra moments with confusion and then shook his head. "You know, my dad got pissed that you worked with IA over that gay bashing thing."

Startled by the quick shift of conversation, Ray played it cool. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He said you were the kind of guy who always tried to do the right thing even if you got your ass kicked, that you had more guts than he ever had. I think that's what pissed him off, that you did what he didn't have the balls to do. He wouldn't tell me all the shit that happened, but I knew it was bad. Everybody knew what was going on, even my dad, but nobody would do anything to stop it." Jason looked away and sighed. "Anyway, I saw you inside with Lila, all beat up, looking like shit. I had the pills left over and I thought this would be a chance to pay you back a little."

"Pay me back a little for what?"

"For helping Jay."

Bingo. "Jay Conover?"

"Yeah. My dad sure as hell didn't care. It meant a lot to Jay though, you going out on a limb like that, taking all the shit over it."

"So being pissed at your dad is about more than him leaving your mom, right?"

Jason shrugged again, but refused to look up. "Thing is, I'm pretty sure he knows, but he never says anything."

"Maybe you should say something first."

"That's what Mom says."

"Your mom knows?"

"Yeah. I made her promise not to tell him. I figure if he cares enough, he'll ask and if he doesn't, it won't make a difference."

Ray knew Hayes, but not well enough to know how to call it. "I'm sorry, Jason. I don't know what to tell you about that. You dad's always been pretty fair when pushed to the point, but it might be a different thing when it's family."

"I know. Anyway, I wasn't trying to deal or get my dad in trouble, honest."

"Sure, just don't do it again. Next time, I might have to do something drastic like haul your ass in."

"And you would, too."

"No doubt. Now, hit the road. I think I see my partner headed this way. Finally."

Jason looked down the street to see Fraser, his brown leather jacket and hat sexy as ever. "That's your partner?"

"Yeah. He's Canadian, too."

"Fuck. He can visit my house anytime."

"Get lost and keep your eyes to yourself."

Jason took off, laughing. Ray leaned back against the building, his eyes trained on Fraser. "Took you long enough."

"You look quite stunning."

"Stunning, huh?"

Fraser nodded, but he took several deep breaths and looked away. Ray frowned and grabbed his shoulder to turn him back around. "You've been crying."

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"We need to go home and talk."

"Did something happen? Did somebody get hurt? Did something happen to Turtle?"

Fraser shook his head, putting his hand on Ray's shoulder to assure him. "Nobody's hurt and Turtle's fine. In fact, we can pick him up any time today."

"Thank God. You scared me. So, what's wrong?"

"We just need to go home."

Ray hesitated, his mind flying out in all directions, worse case scenarios piling up all around him. "You're scaring me, Fraser. What's going on? Tell me."

"Not here."

"Damn it, what the hell is it? You leaving me? You been transferred back to Canada? You change your mind about us? What?"

Fraser kept his voice calm, but the strain showed in his eyes. "It's nothing like that, Ray. I love you. It's about the case."

"The case?"

"Yes, Ray, the case. The car's this way."

Ray stood up straighter as he walked silently beside his partner. He fingered the drugs in his pocket and worried like hell that whatever made Fraser cry would rip him into a million fucking pieces.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"I'd like some answers." Ray slipped off his jacket and hung it on the hanger beside Fraser's in the hallway closet. Dief curled up on the chair and Fraser didn't look up, wouldn't meet his eyes. "Just tell me what's going on."

"I didn't do simple errands this morning."

"I figured."

Fraser looked up. "You knew?"

"You don't lie worth shit, Fraser. So, where'd you go? The station?"

"Lt. Welsh called me this morning. He wanted to meet with me so we could discuss the situation."

"Situation?"

"Ray, please, sit down."

"Fraser, you're freaking me out here. What the hell is it?"

It took several more seconds before Fraser finally answered. "Clooney had a hidden camera at the warehouse. Your assault is on videotape."

Ray barely made it to the sofa. He dropped his head to his right hand and worked hard to keep breathing, the air way too thin for his lungs to handle. The cushion sagged beside him and Fraser's hand gently rubbed circles against his back. "Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

They remained quiet for several long minutes, Ray's mind cramping, his head about to explode. He swallowed back bile as he whispered, "You see it?"

"Yes."

"Made you cry, huh?"

"Yes, Ray, it did."

Lifting his head, Ray met Fraser's bloodshot eyes. He saw sadness, but no pity. Thank God. He'd had enough pity to last a lifetime. Ray cleared his throat. "So why'd Welsh call you? Why not me?"

"He was concerned about telling you about its existence. He wanted my opinion."

"He wanted to keep it quiet? What? He didn't think I could handle it?"

"I believe he's more concerned about you wanting to see it. We both agree that such action would be detrimental to your recovery at this point."

Ray sagged back against the sofa and shook his head. "Why would I want to see it?"

"Any number of reasons."

"Yeah, well, I don't, so don't worry about it. Fuck, Fraser, I can't even read the damn file. You think I could handle something as fucked up as that, seeing that animal do shit? I'm not stupid. I know that's more than I could deal with. Maybe someday, but not now."

"I'm relieved to hear you say that, Ray. I must confess to being worried about how you would react."

"I can see that. I'm glad you didn't lie to me about it though. Welsh really want to keep it a secret?"

"He was unsure. He'd never do anything to deliberately hurt you."

Nodding, Ray accepted that. He liked Welsh, respected how he handled him even when the situation sucked. "So, how'd he find out about the tape?"

"Apparently, the Federal Agents had to disclose all the evidence collected at the crime scene to the State Attorney's office. It was on the last list."

"Oh, shit. Stella. She saw it, too?"

"She's working to have it permanently sealed. No one who isn't directly involved in the case will ever see it and it won't ever be shown in open court for public record."

"But she saw it?"

"I'm afraid so, yes."

"When?"

"I'm not sure, but it must have been recently."

"She saw me get hurt like that?"

"Yes, as I did."

Ray closed his eyes, the tears too hot and too fast to stop. "Shit. This is so fucked."

Fraser touched his arm and Ray jerked away, stood up and walked to the other side of the room, his good arm crossed tightly over his sling. "If I saw this tape, I'd know for sure what happened."

"Ray, that's not a good idea. You said so yourself."

"I know what I said. I'm just saying, I need to know."

"Then ask me, but don't watch the tape."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yes."

Ray dropped down into the chair at the table, his body shaking, his skin clammy. "I can't deal with this now, but later, later, I need to know, and you'll tell me, right?"

"I'll tell you whatever you ask, Ray."

"And you won't pull any punches, you'll tell me the truth, because I need that, Fraser, the truth, not some sugar-coated what you think Ray can handle bullshit."

"Understood."

"Good." Ray wanted to forget about the whole conversation, get back the good feelings of that morning with Lila. Instead, he met Fraser's concerned gaze and shook his head. "I can't do this right now. I need to take my pills and get some sleep. We'll talk more afterwards."

Fraser got up and poured him some water before handing him the antibiotic and pain medicine. "You should eat something so they don't irritate your stomach."

"I'd puke and you know it." Ray swallowed the pills and drained the water. "Wouldn't mind company though. You said you didn't sleep much last night. A nap would do us both good."

"I'd like that."

Ray allowed Fraser to help him to his feet and guide him to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed as Fraser kneeled to pry off his boots. Too tired to smile, Ray simply watched, pleased at the faint touches, the caring conveyed in each contact. He stood up and slipped off his jeans, but kept his sweater, his arms still cold. Getting under the covers, he lay there and watched as Fraser undressed down to undershirt and boxers. Crawling in beside him, Fraser scooted close, arms moving to hold him, to draw him into an embrace. Ray sighed and relaxed, his eyes closed as he drifted off, letting the drugs and the tenderness work to keep him buffered from the pain just off to the side of full focus.

Ray woke up hard, his body warm and heavy and protesting any sudden movement. He sighed as Fraser's hand slipped under his sweater, gently stroking his belly, his chest, and his nipples. "God, Fraser. That's feels so good."

"It feels very nice to me as well, Ray." Fraser lifted up, his palm still skimming over Ray's chest while he kissed him, his lips pressed hard against his own, the whiskers burning his cheek in a good way. Fraser pulled back and stared down, his hungry blue eyes meeting Ray's. "May I touch you?"

"I thought that's what you were doing."

"I mean really touch you, Ray."

The light dawned to what his partner actually meant and Ray nodded, too turned on to even think about saying no. Still, he hesitated. “Why now, Fraser? Don’t get me wrong, I want this, but I need to know why you changed your mind.”

“I love you, and I need you to know that, to know it completely.” Fraser dipped his head, sniffing the side of his neck and then whispering, “Please, Ray, let me replace his touches, my love for his hate, pleasure to erase the pain.”

Eyes stinging, Ray nodded, craving Fraser more than ever, wishing like hell it was only that simple. "Sure. I'd like that. Touch away."

"You need to tell me if I do anything you don't like. I know this is all new to you."

"Kissing and touching, that's not new, Fraser. Sure, you've got some stuff Stella didn't have, but that doesn't make this all that different. It's just been a while since there’s been any good stuff, you know?"

"I'd never want to hurt you."

"You won't. I trust you."

Fraser leaned back in, his tongue teasing Ray's lower lip before a brief kiss. Then his head dipped down as he licked and kissed Ray's throat, around the side of his neck, and then his ear. Ray whimpered, shuddering with each new nip. Fraser's hand slid down beneath the covers, slipping under the elastic of the boxers, wrapping Ray's cock. Ray jerked with the contact, arching up, and moaning in pleasure.

"Easy, Ray, not so fast."

"Fast, slow, it don't matter. God, it just feels so fucking good." Ray gulped for air as Fraser's hand fondled his balls while his talented mouth found his right nipple. His mind exploded with joy, his skin buzzing with nothing but good feeling, with stars blasting off in his head. "It's been so fucking long, so fucking long. Jesus, it's so good."

Body trembling, Ray squeezed his eyes shut, lost in overwhelming sensations as Fraser slipped off his boxers. His cock ached for release too soon, sweat already slicking his skin. His thighs trembled as he opened his legs wider, just enough, wanting more than anything to be touched, to be sucked, to have Fraser really want to do this.

The cover pulled away and cold air hit Ray's exposed flesh, but didn't ease the tension. The bed shifted as Fraser licked his way down past his belly button, slow and easy, his tongue leaving a trail of wet heat. Fraser fisted his cock with one hand and then teased the tip with his tongue. Ray moaned deeper, his hips lifting, his heels dug into the bed. "Jesus. Oh, yeah, suck me. Please."

Without hesitation, Fraser did just that, his mouth taking him in, taking him in not just a few inches, but nearly all the way. His head bobbed up and down, the pressure almost too much as Fraser's hand rolled his balls at the same time. No way could he hold out, not with that, not with Fraser sucking him better than he'd ever been sucked in his life, not with Fraser's mouth the best thing he'd ever felt. Sweet Jesus, he wanted to scream, but the cries burned to ashes in his throat. He couldn't stop, didn't want to, bowing his back and falling over the edge into bright flashes of light. Jolts of release whipped through him, every cell coming at once, every muscle trying to jerk at the same time.

And Fraser never let go, never released him the whole time. Fraser didn't come up for air until the spasms stopped and even then he kept licking and sucking. Ray's dick all but whimpered, all but begged for more than it could handle. Greedy cock never wanted to leave that spot, that beautiful place, that freely offered sanctuary from thought. He thrust a few more times and actually came again, small this time, but longer, tingles all up his belly. His brain blew up, just blanked out while he caught his breath enough to barely whisper, "Sweet Jesus, Fraser."

Fraser lifted his head and smiled, his lips puffy and wet. "Yes, Ray?"

"Where the fuck did you learn to do that?"

"Is it important?"

Ray chuckled. "No, just so long as you do it again." Ray's whole body checked in, high-fiving the man for finally getting some good touch. Reaching out, Ray pulled Fraser closer and kissed him, shocked by the salty flavor, realizing he tasted himself. "I should've warned you so you didn't have to swallow."

"I like swallowing."

Fraser didn't even blush, but Ray did. "Well, I guess that's okay then."

"It certainly is." Fraser sighed contentedly as he rested his head on Ray's chest. "I was afraid I might hurt you because of your thigh, but it didn't seem to be a problem."

"Hell, Fraser, you suck my dick and you could skin me alive and I'd never feel it."

Fraser snorted, rubbing his face in Ray's sweater with amusement. "I'll keep that in mind, Ray."

"Yeah, you do that. Now, you need to sit back and let me take care of business for you."

Fraser lifted his head. "You don't have to do that, Ray."

"I want to. I mean, I know I'm not up to sucking cock yet, but I do think I could manage a hand job." Ray lowered his voice, husky and raw. "Would you like that, Fraser? Would you like me to do that, to handfuck your dick until you get off?"

Fraser's face flushed at the coarse words, but he nodded, obviously even more aroused than before. He liked dirty talk as much as Ray did, and that pleased Ray, made him even more hot. "I think I'd like that very much, but I think I need to shift over to the other side of the bed so you can use your right hand."

"And take your clothes off, Fraser. I want to see you."

Swallowing hard, Fraser didn't hesitate a bit, just swung his legs over the side of the bed and stripped off his undershirt and boxers. He stood there completely naked, his uncut cock hard and leaking. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscles all firm and proportioned covered with creamy, white skin made for a damn fine looking Canadian. "Oh, man, Fraser, you've got a great body, not that I'm surprised or anything, but, fuck, you're good looking."

"As are you, Ray."

"You're a freak, Fraser, but that kind of works in my favor. And I can see you're really happy to be here."

Fraser glanced down at his erect cock and sat down on the edge of the bed, his voice breathy. "I've wanted to be with you like this for such a long time, Ray. Happy doesn't adequately describe what I'm feeling."

"And I'm really glad about that." Ray pulled Fraser closer on the bed, leaning him back on the pillow. "Put your hands behind your head."

"Ray?"

"Trust me, Fraser. Just do it."

Reluctantly, Fraser put both hands behind his head, his eyes never leaving Ray's. "Just relax. This is something I know how to do."

"I trust you, Ray, I'm just curious as to why I need to have my hands behind my head."

"Discipline."

"Discipline?"

"Yeah, I want you to feel it, to see it, but not touch, not while I'm jerking you off. Just let me do the work and you enjoy it. It'll be good. You'll see. And you can talk if you want, tell me how it feels, tell me you want it."

"I do want it, Ray, very much. But I have to confess, I'm not very good at talking during sex like you are."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. It's just, well, if I talk, it takes me out of the moment."

Ray nodded, taking that in, considering the whole situation. "Did it bother you when I talked?"

"Not at all. In fact, I found it arousing."

Ray grinned and touched the top of Fraser's cock with his fingers, sliding back the foreskin to tease the slippery tip. "You did, huh?"

Fraser's head fell back as he hissed with pleasure, his breathing faster. Ray decided on mercy. He reached for the lotion by the bed and squirted some in his right hand. Then he kneeled next to Fraser, who watched his every move, his eyes nearly black with wanting. "Oh, yeah, you dig this, I can tell. You do, right, you want this?"

"Yes, Ray. Please."

Nodding, Ray leaned over and kissed him, met his tongue and enjoyed his own heat. He loved kissing Fraser, the man's mouth so fucking hot, he couldn't stop tongue-diving for more. At the same time, he found Fraser's cock, silky, but thickly veined. It nearly singed his hand as it throbbed and grew even harder. One part of his mind concentrated on capturing Fraser's tongue, his lips, his whole face while the other let his hand slip up and down, sliding and using just enough pressure to feel the pulse. He rubbed and stroked, let Fraser thrust and push into his hand, let him set the rhythm. Fraser panted out his name as his breath hitched with one final rut into Ray's fist, come shooting out all over the place. Falling back against the pillow, Fraser lay limp, his face red and his body glistening with sweat.

Ray grabbed some tissues by the bed, wiping off his hand first and then getting some more to clean up Fraser. His partner remained quiet, almost too quiet. Ray pulled the covers up over Fraser and then shifted to lie beside him, his head on his chest, his own eyes closed. "You okay?"

"Okay doesn't do justice to what I'm feeling, Ray."

"Good, huh?"

"Magnificent." Fraser shifted his legs slightly and kissed the top of Ray's head before relaxing again. "Thank you. I love you."

"The feeling's mutual."

The quiet stretched between them and Ray sighed, relieved and really happy for the first time since Stella left him. "I've missed this."

"Sex?"

"That, too, but no, the touching. I've missed the touching, being close, having someone to sleep with. I never sleep good alone. Ever since I was little, I liked having someone to be with even if it's just in the same room."

"All humans need touch, Ray, and I have to agree, I've missed such intimate contact as well."

"Then it's a good thing we found each other, huh?"

"I'd have to agree. I'm very grateful that we did, indeed, find each other."

"You ever wonder about stuff like that, Fraser, that whole fate thing, like did fate mean for us to get together, like did fate plan this whole Vecchio undercover thing just so we could get to be partners?"

"There are some beliefs that support the idea that each person has a destiny, that there is a universal plan for all of us."

"That's not what I asked. Do you think about it? Do you believe it?"

"I think about it, yes, but I don't believe it."

Ray shifted uneasily, but didn't pull away. "How come?"

"To believe that fate rather than free will controls our destinies would demand that there be a cosmic force that not only allows for the presence of evil, but actually supports such acts. Personally, I can't accept that."

Shrugging, Ray took a deep breath and closed his eyes, suddenly very sleepy. "Yeah, but destiny sounds a lot more romantic than fat chance."

"Yes, Ray, it does." An arm pulled him closer. "Sleep. We'll talk more later on."

"We should get up. Do something. Go get Turtle."

"We've still got time to get Turtle."

"Yeah?"

"The vet closes at six. I'll wake you before then and we'll bring him home."

"Good. Good. I miss the little guy, probably thinks I've forgotten all about him."

"Rest, Ray. Turtle will be fine."

The world faded, Fraser's steady heartbeat like a soft lullaby luring him to sleep safe and sound for the first time in a very long time. Ray settled in and dreamed of a world full of happy turtles and wolves living together, a place where he didn't have to worry about hiding from the ghosts that still haunted his life.

"You think we should stop and get the tank and stuff before we pick up Turtle?"

Fraser glanced at the clock and shook his head. "Not if we want to get Turtle today. We've got less than an hour to get there."

"We should've gotten the tank this morning." Ray ran a trembling hand through his hair, his whole body shaky and anxious. "You think we should get a bigger tank or stick with the same size?"

Fraser stepped beside him and slipped an arm around his middle, drawing him close for a quick kiss. "Ray, calm down. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. Nothing's wrong. I'm just, I don't know, a little wired, that's all."

"I can see that, but why? Are you worried about what we did?"

Ray met his eyes, his face suddenly less strained. "No way. That was great, better than great. It was greatness. I'd like to do it again first chance we get. No, it's this whole tape thing. I don't want to think about it, but it just keeps slipping in. I still can't go boxing or dancing, so I figure maybe I'll set up Turtle's tank and clean the apartment. I need to keep busy."

Fraser sighed and rested his chin on Ray's shoulder. "We'll fix Turtle's tank together. If you want to clean, we can do that, but you shouldn't overdo it. You're supposed to be resting."

"Yeah, I know. I just hate feeling trapped in my head."

"Trapped in your head?"

"Yeah, you know, like how you get something going round and round like a scratched CD, repeating shit over and over? When I'm not busted up, I can block it out by doing something else, going to the gym, working out. Being a cop works, too. Nothing like chasing down scumbags to take you outside yourself, but now I feel trapped, like I can't get away from me when I need to." Fraser squeezed him gently, thoughtful, but not saying anything. "What?"

"Nothing. We need to go get Turtle."

"It's not nothing. What were you thinking?"

Pulling away, Fraser took a deep breath, obviously measuring his words carefully. "It's just that distracting oneself doesn't really resolve the troubling issue."

"I know that, but it's what I do, it's what works. Been doing it for ages."

"It might work temporarily, but it doesn't really work, not in the long run."

"Long run? Who the fuck can do long run? Not me. Not now. I just need to handle what's going on today, right now, this minute." The words bunched up and worked up speed. "You can fuck long run, Fraser. I'm got too much to deal with and long run just doesn't cut it, not by a long shot." Ray walked away, his body tight as he paced. "So, if I want to clean or kick the wall, that's what I need to do to get though it, okay? Don't give me any shit about long run."

"I understand, Ray. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know. I know. It's not you."

Fraser nodded and stepped to the hall closet. He got his leather jacket and grabbed Ray's, too. A rattle came from the pocket. Puzzled, he reached in and pulled out the brown bottle. He held it up, his voice hard, accusing. "Who the hell is Marcus Weldman?"

"Who?" Ray stepped closer, stalling when he saw the bottle in Fraser's hand. "Fuck."

"You want to explain this?"

"It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing, Ray. It looks like illegal narcotics. According to the label, it's the same painkiller you take only this prescription is made out to a Marcus Weldman. So, I'll ask again, who the hell is Marcus Weldman?"

"It's not what you think."

"You mean you're not in possession of illegal drugs?”

"Well, yeah, but they're not mine."

"They were in your pocket."

"Yeah, but they're not mine."

Fraser shook his head, his face flushed with anger. "Ray, don't lie to me."

Ray suddenly stood straighter. "You think I'm lying?"

"The evidence would support such a conclusion."

"But you know me."

"Yes, Ray, I do. I think that's the point."

The words iced Ray's skin, his gut tighter. He hated that Fraser didn't believe him, that after all this time, he still didn't really trust him. "I've got a prescription for the same damn stuff, so what difference does it make where it came from?"

"It makes a difference and you know it."

"You really think I'd lie to you about something like this? The stuff's not mine. I can explain if you'll just give me one damn minute without jumping to conclusions."

Frowning, Fraser met his eyes briefly, and then walked around him to the kitchen. He put the bottle on the table like evidence in front of a perp. "Tell me how you got these and what you were planning to do."

Ray stood across the table from Fraser, wishing like hell he'd never fucking met Jason Hayes. "It's a long story, but you need to know, I was planning to flush those. I just forgot when you showed up talking about the tape. I got distracted, that's all."

Fraser's voice lost its edge as he leaned forward, his arms braced on the table. "Why do you even have them?"

"A kid of an old friend of mine saw me at Lila's. He wanted to do me a favor."

"A favor? He wanted to give you drugs as a favor?"

"Just let me finish."

Nodding, Fraser stood up and crossed his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm just upset."

"I know. I'm sorry, too. I swear to God, I wasn't going to keep them."

"You said that."

Ray took a deep breath and then started pacing. "There's this kid, Jason, the son of this guy I worked with. He saw me at Lila's. Said he thought I could use something to take the edge off."

"Did this young man know you were a police officer?"

"Yes."

"And he offered to sell you drugs?"

"He didn't sell them. He gave them to me, sort of as payback."

"Payback for what?"

Ray kept moving, his body too tense, his heart racing. "It's fucked up, Fraser. He wanted to say thank you for helping out his buddy Conover over at the one seven, so he passed these off from some friend of his. I'm figuring that would be the Weldman guy."

"And he thought giving you narcotics was an appropriate gift?"

"I don't think he was thinking."

"Obviously."

"Anyway, I couldn't arrest him, not without getting his dad into it, so I confiscated the pills and told him I'd kick his ass if he did it again." Ray stopped moving and stared at Fraser. "I swear I did not go looking."

"But you kept them." The words were as hard as any slap.

Ray's breath hitched, his eyes stinging as he nodded. "Yeah, I kept them. I thought I'd throw them out when I got home, or at least that's what I told myself."

"Dear God, Ray. You could've been arrested."

"I know, I know. I should've tossed them down a sewer grate first chance I got. They're just too damn tempting. I fucking know that. I'm sorry."

"Legally, we should turn this over for evidence."

"I can't do that."

Nodding, Fraser's jaw clenched. He picked up the bottle and turned toward the sink. He took off the top of the bottle and turned on the water. He poured some pills down the drain as Ray stepped up beside him. "I can do that."

Fraser handed him the bottle and watched quietly while Ray emptied it. Then he stepped away. "We should leave now or the veterinarian's office will be closed.

Ray grasped his arm and held him still. "I'm sorry."

"I know. We'll talk about this later." Fraser lifted his face and met his gaze. "I'm disappointed, Ray, and I'm angry. I need to process this before we discuss it again."

Sucker punched by the tough tone, Ray nodded, biting his lower lip, working hard to keep things together. "I fucked up. I'm really sorry."

"Like I said, Ray, later."

Fraser headed to the door, Ray one step behind him, wanting pretty much to kick his own head in for being such a fuck up.

Ray stood up, his back aching from the strain of lifting and fixing up the tank, making sure everything worked, everything fit just right. He winced, but still smiled in satisfaction as Turtle basked under his new light. His longtime pet looked like one fine and dandy little box turtle, sitting on his rock, just thinking all the neat things turtles might think about. "He looks good, Fraser. Thanks. You didn't have to spring for the bigger tank, but I think he likes it."

"I'm glad." Fraser's continued remoteness chilled him. His partner still wouldn't look at him as he stood by the stove, checking the oven and making some homemade ranch salad dressing. "Why don't you go wash up, Ray? Supper's almost ready."

"Sure. What are we having?"

"A Polynesian chicken and rice casserole with spinach salad."

Ray bit back his complaints about spinach, nastiest stuff on the whole damn planet, right up there with window putty and eggplant. Instead, he kept his voice light and appreciative. "Sounds good." Hesitating, he stepped closer. "Fraser, you still mad?"

Fraser finally turned toward him, not happy, but not quite as grim as before. "I'm not mad, Ray. We'll talk about what happened after we've eaten and we've had a chance to relax."

"Okay, okay, I can do that."

Ray hurried to the restroom and washed his right hand and the exposed fingers of his left hand, making sure to use plenty of soap since he'd spent an hour playing catch up with Turtle. He then brushed his teeth and hair, even thought about shaving, but overruled that thought pretty quickly. Fraser seemed to like him with a few whiskers. Scruffy worked for the Mountie.

He checked himself out in the mirror, wishing like hell he could airbrush out the lingering bruises and the scar across his throat. None of the other cuts showed, covered by his clothes and long sleeves, but that one across his throat looked more red now than it had earlier. He traced his finger along the raised edge and frowned, thinking maybe he could call Lila and ask about make up, something to cover it up until it faded. Stella had a little scar up near her hairline she used to blot out every morning with a little dab of something special like that. He could do the same thing and maybe he wouldn't look so much like someone with bad eyes stitched his head back on.

"Ray?" Fraser stood in the doorway, watching him and looking worried. "Are you okay? You've been in here a long time."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"About?"

"About those old Frankenstein movies, you know where they took parts from all those dead bodies and sewed them together again. I was just thinking I could try out for a job if they ever do remakes."

Pain showed in Fraser's eyes as he bit his lower lip. "You don't look like that, Ray."

"Yeah, well, you're a little biased on the subject. Lila did great on the hair, but she couldn't do much for the rest of this mess. I mean, I'm not blind. It's looks pretty awful."

"You look a lot better than you did and Dr. Barnes said the scar should disappear gradually."

"Key word there, gradually." Ray turned and pointed at the line that ran across his throat. "Does it look redder than before?"

Sighing, Fraser stepped closer, drawing Ray into his arms. He titled his head and kissed the scar, the touch electric. Ray let out a deep breath and waited for Fraser to lift his head. Their eyes locked. "I am so sorry, Fraser."

"I know. I'm sorry, too. I was just as angry with myself as I was with you."

"Why's that?"

Fraser stepped back and leaned against the doorframe. "I know what it's like to be scared, Ray."

"I don't get it. What's that got to do with being pissed about the pills?"

"When I got addicted before, it wasn't about the pain as much as the fear of the pain, the fear of feeling what I didn't want to feel. I wanted to numb myself. The thought of not having that escape was frightening." Fraser hesitated and then swallowed hard. "It's scary to think about facing one's fears with no crutch, no insulation from what you most don't want to contemplate. When I saw that bottle in the jacket, it made me remember all that. That's why I got angry, at least one of the reasons."

"And the other reasons?"

"You should never have put us in that position in the first place. You made me an accessory."

"Jesus, Fraser. I really didn't mean to."

"But mostly you should've told me."

"You're right. I should've. I'm sorry."

Fraser waited a fraction of a second and nodded. "Apology accepted. Now, let's eat. I don't have your metabolism, Ray. I must confess to being a bit hungry."

"That makes two of us. Now that I know you're not going to leave me, I think I can eat again, though I have to warn you, I don't think I can go for the spinach."

Fraser shook his head. "What?"

"Spinach. Can't stand it. Rather have that putty sandwich you tried to feed me that first day."

Ray started to step past him and Fraser captured his arm. "No, about leaving. What did you mean?"

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. Did you really think I'd consider leaving you because we argued?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you did." Shutting his eyes, his chest tight, Ray prayed to God Fraser forgave him. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t really rate a second chance, not when he’d fucked up so royally. It didn’t change the fact that he wanted it, needed it, would die if he didn’t get it.

"Ray, listen to me. What do I have to say to make you believe me, to make you know that I'm not going to leave you every time we disagree?"

Gulping, Ray shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just having a hard time understanding why you'd stay."

"Because I love you."

"Stella said she loved me, too, but she left." Again, Ray’s fear screamed louder than hope, made his hands tremble as he worried that Fraser would give up, would wake up and realize it just wasn’t worth all the hassle to keep banging his head against a brick wall called Kowalski.

Fraser's grip tightened as he turned Ray to face him. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, Ray lifted his head, Fraser staring intently. "I'm looking."

"Do I look like Stella?"

"No."

"Then don't assume that I'd ever leave because she did. I'm not Stella." Fraser's voice got even stronger, more intense. "Know this, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, I'm not leaving. If anyone walks out on this relationship, it's going to have to be you. Do you understand that?"

Ray took several deep breaths to find his voice. "Yeah, yeah, Fraser, I do. I get that."

"Good." Fraser used both hands to capture his face and then kiss him, his tongue aggressive and thorough. He pulled back and smiled sweetly. "That's settled then. Now, let's eat before Diefenbaker forgets all his good manners and eats the chicken before we can."

Relieved, Ray nodded and just followed, more than willing to give up his chicken for his wolf buddy and friend. Food didn't interest him, but he knew from that kiss that Fraser already had dessert planned.

Polynesian chicken translated into chicken with pineapple which made Ray's mouth water. For the first time in weeks, he actually ate greedily, though he didn't manage a whole piece. Still, it pleased him that Fraser went out of his way to make things he thought Ray might like, despite the attempt to foist spinach regardless of his protest. Ray picked at the salad. "I can't, Fraser. It's spinach."

"Spinach has a lot of iron, Ray. Dr. Barnes specifically said that you were anemic and needed foods rich in iron in addition to the supplements."

"Yeah, well, I can take a pill, but I can't eat this green stuff. I'm not Popeye."

"Popeye?"

"The sailor man."

"I presume that's some reference to a character in a recent film."

"Cartoon."

"A cartoon? And this animated Popeye has something to do with spinach?"

Ray smiled and shook his head. "I swear, you've lived a deprived existence, Fraser. Popeye ate spinach to give him super strength whenever the bad guys wanted to pound him or Olive."

"Olive?"

"His girlfriend."

"I see."

"And he'd eat a whole can of spinach and he be like Superman when the scumbags would show up, pow, pow, pow. I can't believe you've never seen Popeye."

"Actually, Ray, that's a rather clever analogy on the part of the animators in the sense that the high iron content does improve one's strength."

"It was a lie, Fraser, a lie to try to get kids to eat spinach."

Fraser put his fork down and grinned. "And did it work?"

"Once." Ray blushed slightly, ready to reveal one of his childhood secrets. "I begged my mom to buy it and then I tried to down a whole can just like Popeye. Puked my guts out. Nasty stuff."

"Well, it was a cartoon, Ray."

"I know and I was eight. I should've figured."

"Figured what?"

"Figured that you can't always believe what you see."

Fraser nodded knowingly. "A hard lesson at any age."

"You ever do something like that, Fraser? Ever see something and think, that's so cool, and then try to do it, too?"

"Several times." Fraser stood up and took his plate to the sink. "Would you like coffee?"

"Sure, but I want you to tell me about one of the times you learned a lesson."

Fraser sighed and shrugged as he served the coffee. "Would you like the last piece of pineapple upside down cake? I need to wash the dish and return it to Mrs. Walenski."

"You don't want to split it?"

"No, I'm quite full."

"Yeah, thanks."

Fraser gave him the cake and then sat down, his face back to serious. Ray ate and sipped coffee while Fraser spoke quietly. "It was a few years after I went to stay with my grandparents. I rarely saw my father, but sometimes he'd come by for a day or two. We didn't talk much, but I'd see him interact with other people. Once I saw him take down a perpetrator who was much larger than he was. I must say I was quite impressed by his prowess. A few weeks later after he left, I found myself confronted by a particularly unpleasant young bully, Ricky Brightarrow. My father made it look easy, so I was confident that I could also subdue someone much larger than myself by using the same techniques he'd used."

"Oh, man, Fraser. You get your ass whipped?"

"Very much so, yes."

"Been there, done that, wore the T-shirt through most of high school."

Fraser smiled weakly and looked up. "I learned, not for the first time, that I was, indeed, not my father. I learned that to master such skills took time and training and even then that in no way guaranteed the same level of expertise."

Ray pushed away his empty plate and sighed. "It's tough when guys pick on you growing up. I guess it's even worse when you feel like you should be invincible like your dad."

"My father was anything but invincible, Ray. He was murdered."

"Yeah, I know, though you couldn't tell that by the way he keeps popping up out of nowhere all the time. I just meant that when you were a kid, he must have seemed like that, tough and able to deal with anything."

"Except me or the loss of my mother." Fraser blinked several times, his eyes more red than they should be. He stood up and cleared the table, his back to Ray.

"It still bothers you, huh, how he left you alone so long?"

"He didn't leave me alone. I had my grandparents."

"But you said yourself, it wasn't the same, that they didn't really give you what you needed."

Fraser stopped working at the sink and turned around. He wiped his hands and then leaned back. "They did what they could, Ray. They never expected to raise a young boy after they'd already raised their own family before that. They were older and more set in their ways."

"But you had to be pissed that your dad just left you."

"Sometimes, but what good does that do, to be angry? He's dead. Being upset about it now doesn't change that it happened or my reaction to it as a child. In many ways, I was quite fortunate."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, I could've died with my mother or I could've been left to be raised by social services. Many girls and boys were. I never went hungry, never had to worry about shelter. Things could've been far worse. To be honest, I feel guilty even complaining about it."

"You don't have to feel guilty about your feelings, Fraser. From what you've told me, you had good reason to feel deprived. I mean, a good parent has to do more than just give food and shelter. There has to be love and affection, acceptance." Ray shifted uneasily as he thought of his own rift with his parents. "I mean, I know it's shit now, but when I was a kid my mom and dad, they made sure to let me know that they loved me no matter what."

"But that's not the case now apparently."

"Yeah, but now I'm older and I've got you. I can handle it now. Back then, well, I'd have been in a lot of trouble if I thought they didn't really want me or if they'd kept me cut off from people, not even let me go to school with other kids. Sure, some of the kids were assholes, but some were great, best friends and buddies. You've got to have that when you're growing up, Fraser, or you get stunted."

"Stunted?"

"Yeah, you know, you end up kind of fucked up, kind of freakish. Sure you learn to condensate, but you still get into trouble when it comes to people, when it comes to relationships because you don't know the ropes that you should've learned growing up."

"Condensate? Do you mean compensate?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

Fraser stepped to the table and sat down. "How do you think I compensate?"

"Being extra polite for one thing."

"Ray, I'm Canadian. It's a way of life."

"Fess up, Fraser. Even for a Canadian, you go over the line with the thank you kindlys and opening doors for little old ladies. Then there's Dief."

"What about Diefenbaker?”

"You talk to a wolf, Fraser."

"I don't see how you can consider that compensation for emotional underdevelopment."

"Your best friend is a wolf, a deaf wolf, and you talk to him in public. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm used to it, but that doesn't change the fact that it's weird, that you do it because you're more comfortable talking to a wolf than most people, at least the people here in Chicago. Tell me it wasn't the same up north. Tell me you'd rather talk to people than talk to Dief or sit alone in the woods. You can't tell me that, because it's not true."

Fraser put both hands on the table, palms down and flat, his face troubled. "I must confess talking with Diefenbaker often gives me a simplicity and clarity I don't always get from conversations with people." He lifted his head and met Ray's eyes. "But I do like talking to you and I enjoyed talking to Ray Vecchio. I suppose that's some progress."

"You and Vecchio, you were tight, I know. I could tell you were really upset when he took off without notice and you got me instead."

Fraser smiled. "You have no idea how confusing that was that first day. I was totally disoriented." He lifted his head and took Ray's hand. "You took my breath away from the very beginning."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yes. I thought you were quite mad, but somehow I couldn't take my eyes off you. I was captivated by your energy, by your exuberance, by the way you wore your jeans."

Ray laughed out loud. "My jeans, huh?"

"Oh, yes, Ray, you wear jeans quite nicely."

Shaking his head, Ray kept grinning. "I can't believe I missed that."

"Well, I wasn't exactly advertising, Ray."

"But you did ask me to dinner."

"Yes, I did. You did save my life that day, so it was the least I could do."

"Now I have to wonder if it was taking the bullet or the jeans that did it."

"Did what?"

"Got me my first date with the Mountie."

Fraser squeezed his hand. "It wasn't a date, Ray, not then."

"Hey, you tell your story, I'll tell mine. You took me out the first day you met me. Couldn't help yourself. Works for me."

"Revisionist history?"

"Romance."

"Ah."

"Enough with the ahs, or there'll be no romance in your immediate future."

Standing, Fraser nodded, his blue eyes bright and sparkling. "Let me finish the dishes, Ray, and we'll see about that."

The romance came later, another mutual coming, all bright and then tender. Ray sat up in bed next to Fraser, watching him sleep, wondering how in the hell he ever got to this, sleeping with his male partner. All his life he'd loved Stella, wanted her, burned for her like nobody's business, and then she left him cold, left him high and dry and almost too depressed to keep going. Now Fraser turned him around so fast he still got dizzy just looking at the man who kept saying he loved him, promised him forever. Ray couldn't quite take it all in if he thought about it too much, so he tried not to. But like so many things, trying and doing lived at opposite ends of the earth.

Ray watched Fraser lie there, on his back, so calm, so still, just breathing slow and even. Nobody slept as deep as Fraser did, nobody just dropped off and stayed there, letting the world go on around him like nothing could hurt him, like nothing could just slither in and make his life crazy.

Suddenly swallowing down bile, Ray slipped off the bed quickly and rushed to the bathroom. Once there, he shut the door, turned on the light, squinting at the sudden stabs to his eyeballs. He steadied himself and leaned over the toilet, not quite sure if wanted to throw up or just stuff his head in. The urge to vomit passed, but he stayed queasy. He turned around and dropped the lid. He sagged down and closed his eyes, needing to calm down, not sure if he ever could.

"Benton's a bright lad, always has been."

Jerking back, Ray stifled a yelp. "Shit. Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on a guy."

"It's not really sneaking when you're dead."

"You don't act dead."

"Well, there's dead and then there's really dead."

"So, you're saying you're not really dead?"

"No, I'm dead."

Ray closed his eyes briefly, praying for patience. "Why are you here?"

"Just wanted to help. You're troubled. Even a dead man can see that."

Suddenly angry, Ray shook his head. "I'm better."

Fraser Senior stood in the corner, hands behind his back, and huffed. "You're as bad as Benton, always forgetting that I know what you're thinking."

"Yeah? How do you do that, know what we're thinking?"

"That's not important."

Ray thought fuck you and rubbed his eyes.

"Language."

"I'm tired. What do you want?"

Fraser Senior stepped closer. He put his hand on Ray's shoulder and Ray swore he could feel it. Damn. "Like I said, my son has always been a bright boy. He loves you. Despite all the hardships, he's never been happier than he has been with you."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yes. I will admit to some doubts in the beginning. As you know Benton's not always made very reasonable choices when it came to partners."

"Love's not supposed to be reasonable."

Fraser's father squeezed his shoulder gently and then stepped back again. "Except for the aboriginal boy, I don't think he's ever been in love until now."

"You know about Innusiq?"

"I didn't then, but I do now. The other two, well, they were unfortunate choices and had little to do with love."

"And me?"

"You're different."

"You could say that."

"You're the perfect partner for my son. He's left and you're right. It's a good fit."

"Left, right?"

"Logic and intuition. It was the same for Buck Frobisher and myself. I had the reason and common sense and he lived on instinct, nothing but hunches. I'm not saying it was always easy. It wasn't. There were times when I wanted to strike the man dead, but he was a good partner, someone I relied on for years, would've continued to work with if I hadn't been murdered."

Ray nodded, recognizing the combination. "So you set'em up and this Buck guy knocked'em down, a one-two punch."

"Exactly."

"And that's me and Fraser?"

"Fraser and I."

"That's what I said."

Fraser Senior cracked his neck and nodded. "So you did. It's like you think in pictures and emotion, and he thinks in words, very rational, very orderly. You complement one another, both on the job and off."

"Was it that way with you and his mum?"

"Ah." Ray didn't snap at the ah, just waited, wondering why he could see and hear a dead man if he wasn't dreaming. "My wife was, indeed, very much like you, very much someone who preferred feelings and intuition to intellectual analysis. That's not saying she wasn't intelligent. She was, incredibly so. I'm not ashamed to say that Benton gets most of his brilliance from her."

"I wish I could've met her." He paused for a moment. "How come she never drops by?"

"Because she died some time ago. I thought Benton explained that."

"I don't get it. You're dead and she's dead, but we only see you."

"Well, I can't really explain that."

"Why not?"

"Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I'm omniscient. As for my wife, I keep hoping to run into her, but so far, I've seen very few people I knew from before."

"Except for me and Fraser." Nausea returned and Ray stood up, holding his stomach. "I might need a little privacy here."

"Don't be discouraged."

"Huh?"

"Mind over matter, Son."

Before he could argue, he lifted the lid quickly and retched, losing dinner and anything else he might have eaten in the last week or two. Fraser came in, his face still sleepy, but worried. "Ray?"

Ray didn't bother to answer, just dropped to his knees, his head hanging as he continued to vomit violently. Fraser ran water and put a cool cloth against the back of his neck. By the time he finished, Ray leaned back against the wall, not bothering to get up. His gut ached as he gasped in small breaths.

"Ray, what happened?"

"Sick to my stomach."

"I can see that."

Cold and clammy, Ray complained. "I don't feel so good, dizzy."

"We should call the doctor."

"No, don't." As soon as he said it, he got back to his knees in a hurry and started in again, dry heaving and wishing someone would just shoot him in the head and be done with it. He stopped and fell back, holding his belly.

Fraser kneeled beside him, handing him a glass of cool water. "Try to drink this."

"I'll just puke again."

"I'm calling Dr. Barnes."

"It's the middle of the night."

"It's either that or the ER."

Sighing, trying to catch his breath, he nodded. "Okay. No hospitals."

"We'll see."

Fraser left him briefly, but Ray didn't move, didn't even try to get back to bed, not with his stomach doing a great imitation of white water rafting.

In a matter of minutes Fraser returned, pale. "He says it might be a reaction to the antibiotics. Do you have a rash anywhere?"

"Not that I know of." Ray endured the quick inspection, Fraser lifting his sweatshirt and checking his bare legs.

"Good. No rash. What about swallowing? Do you have trouble swallowing or is your tongue swollen?"

"No, no, just sick to my stomach and dizzy, really dizzy and cold."

"He said we could try some Phenergan to help with the nausea and vomiting, but that if that didn't work, you should return to the hospital. In any case, he wants you in first thing in the morning for blood work and an examination."

"Fuck."

"Ray, are you going to be sick again or can we risk getting you back to the bed?"

"Bed." He allowed Fraser to get him to his feet and back to bed, too weak to stand up for very long on his own. Under the covers, he lay back, propped against the pillows, still clutching his stomach, his eyes closed.

Fraser came back holding a small box. "Dr. Barnes gave me this in case this happened."

Frowning, Ray looked at the foiled packet that Fraser took out of the box. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

"You can't keep anything down, Ray. It's the best way to administer the medication."

"No."

"Then it's the ER where they can give you either an IV or a shot. It's your choice, Ray."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. This sucks."

"I agree. If you'll roll over on your side, I'll insert it. You should feel better soon even though it says here, you might get very sleepy."

"No, I'll do it."

"Ray..."

"I said, I'll do it."

Reluctantly, Fraser handed him the opened suppository and a latex glove, his voice more hushed. "Ray, it has to be inserted rather deeply. I'm not sure you can do that on your own."

"Just go away, okay? It's bad enough I have to do this, I don't want you to see me."

Puzzled, Fraser bit his lower lip. "I don't understand. We've been intimate. How is this any different? There's no reason to be embarrassed."

"Trust me, Fraser, it's different. Now, please, just give me a minute to do this."

"As you wish." Obviously hurt, Fraser turned and went into the bathroom, shutting the door, but not completely.

Ray heard the water run before he slipped on the glove. He reached down between his legs and pushed in the suppository. As Fraser predicted, it wasn't easy, but he managed. It burned as he clenched his ass, holding it in, hoping like hell it'd make the vertigo go away. The thought of ending up in the hospital again almost made him puke one more time, but instead, he called out. "Fraser. It's okay. You can come back now."

Returning, Fraser took the glove and threw it away. Then he went back to the bathroom and washed his hands. He came back and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding out a glass of water. "Drink this. You can't afford to get dehydrated."

The aftertaste from being sick made the water awful, but he drank it, knew that if he didn't, there was no telling what Fraser would do next. When he finished, he gave the glass back. "Thanks."

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you wake me when you got sick?"

"You were sleeping."

"I should've heard you."

"Even you sleep, Fraser. Give yourself a break."

"Then next time wake me."

"Sure." He didn't want to fight, rehash why he didn't want an audience to puking his guts out. "Your dad was here again."

Fraser shook his head, impatient not with Ray but with the interference by his dead father. "What did he want this time?"

"To tell me about partnerships, to tell me that we're a great team." The drug worked fast, a lot quicker than he expected, thank God. Already groggy and less sick, Ray ran a finger up and down Fraser's forearm. "You're logic, I'm instinct."

"Like that's a newsflash."

"He said that's why we do so great together. He and this Buck guy were like that." Ray hesitated, but added, "He said your mom was a lot like me, intuitive."

Fraser turned his head and stared at Ray before his face softened, his brow smoothed out. "I wish I could say I remembered. It was so long ago and I was so young when she died. She liked singing and had a great voice. I do remember how beautiful and kind she was, how she wasn't afraid to show me affection and love. I guess in a way, that's one of the things I admire about you the most, your fearlessness when it comes to showing your emotions. Nobody has to wonder what you're really feeling most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"Well, you do tend to show anger when you're really afraid, but still, you don't hold anything back. I like that."

"You do, huh?"

"Very much."

Ray closed his eyes, suddenly more than a little sleepy, but not quite ready to give up the fight. "It's funny."

"What?"

"One of the things I like about you is how cool you can be, how you seem to hold it all together when things get rough. I fall apart, but you're right there, solid."

"Is that what you think? That I'm cool and solid?"

Ray didn't like the defensive tone, but kept his eyes closed. "Look, I know it's a front, that you feel things just like anybody else."

"I do, Ray. I'm just not comfortable showing it, not in public, not like you."

"I know, and that's what I'm saying. It's okay. It's you."

Fraser took his hand, holding it to his chest. "The medicine seems to be working."

"Must be. I feel weird."

"Weird."

"Floaty, like being really drunk without spinning."

Brushing back his hair, Fraser kissed his forehead and then his lips. "Go to sleep, Ray. Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning."

"Sure." As Fraser stood up, Ray captured his hand again in a near panic. "Don't go."

"I was just going to clean up and then come back to bed."

"Oh, okay. Good. I'll be here."

Another quick kiss and Fraser pulled up the covers and left. Ray scooted down further in the bed, stretching out and relaxing, hearing the sounds of Fraser and his father fussing softly in the other room.

Ray sat on the exam table wearing a flimsy paper gown with an even thinner paper sheet across his lap. He still wore his socks, but he shivered involuntarily from the cold. He hated waiting, hated sitting there tired and not quite able to focus.

Dr. Barnes came into the room, holding his chart, his face looking anything but happy. "Well, Mr. Kowalski, Ray, what have you been up to?"

"Puking mostly."

"I can see that. Did the Phenergan help?"

"Yeah. Lucky you gave Fraser that sample."

Barnes shrugged. "Unfortunately, this particular antibiotic, while effective against resistant infection, can sometimes have unpleasant side effects like the ones you've experienced. The sample was a precaution. I'll write you a prescription. You should use the Phenergan an hour before you take your antibiotic. That should cut down on the nausea and vomiting."

"You expect me to use one of those things every day?"

"Actually, it'll be three times a day, once before each dose of antibiotic. It should also help you rest more."

"Look, can't you give me a pill instead?"

"I can, but to be honest, the suppositories are often more effective."

"I still want the pill."

"Fine. It's up to you, but I warn you, that if the vomiting continues, you'll need to use the alternative."

Ray ignored the threat and complained, "This stuff makes me really sleepy."

"But you're not nauseous or vomiting now, right?"

"Right."

"So, take the medication. Your white blood cell count is down and that's good, but it's not completely normal yet and you're still running a low grade fever. You need to finish this round of the antibiotics."

Ray refrained from saying fuck you, but just barely.

"You also need to drink more. Try increasing your fluids with juices or a sport’s drink." Barnes stopped and put the file on the counter. "And you've lost another two pounds since your release. That's twelve pounds all together in the last three weeks. You need to either eat more or start using the supplement I suggested, at least until you get your strength back."

"That the stuff I drank in the hospital that tasted like chalk?"

"They've got other flavors, but I do believe chalk is the preferred flavor in most hospitals, yes."

Ray had to check to see the faint grin on Barnes's face to realize the guy finally slipped a joke in like he might be human after all. "Funny."

"Seriously, Ray. Get the chocolate or whatever flavor you can tolerate. You can't afford to lose more weight, not when your body's supposed to be healing."

"I'll try."

Nodding, Barnes pulled out latex gloves from the box near the table. "Good, now let's take a look at those wounds." He pulled open the back of Ray's gown, exposing the shoulder bandage. He peeled back the covering and threw it away before pushed around the edges of the injury. "Keep using the antibiotic cream on this, but leave the bandage off unless it gets irritated." He closed the gown again and then moved to the front. He pulled back the sheet and spread Ray's thighs. Removing the bandage, he frowned. Carefully, he examined the raised, red area by pushing down. Ray hissed.

"Sorry. Still sore?"

"You could say that, yeah."

"Any pain when you walk or move around?"

"Not much."

"Define not much."

"Just some twinges if I move the wrong way or go too fast. Like I said, not much, not as bad as it was."

Nodding, Barnes used a swab to rub down the area and reapplied antibiotic before putting on a fresh bandage. "This one needs more tending. Keep it covered and I'll check it in a few days."

"Sure."

Barnes used his stethoscope and listened to Ray's heart and lungs, nodding. "Good. Your lungs are clear, heartbeat strong and regular."

"We done?"

"Not quite. Lie back."

"What for?"

Trying to be patient, Dr. Barnes dropped the gloves in his bio-waste bin and washed his hands. "I want to examine the rest of you. Now, please, lie back and relax."

Ray did lie down, but he couldn't relax, not with Barnes's hands checking out the rest of the lacerations and his throat in particular. Then he used the stethoscope to listen to Ray's belly, his face even more solemn. "How are your bowels?"

"Fine."

"When was the last movement?"

"Jeez, Doc, I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"A few days ago in the hospital, I guess." Ray squeezed his eyes shut, so not wanting to think about that.

"Any pain or bleeding?"

"I was a little sore, yeah, but no bleeding."

"Good, but I'll give you a stool softener to take with you. It should help."

"I don't need that."

"You need it. Take it. Now, roll over. Let me check your back."

Fuming, Ray turned over, resting his head on his right arm, his left arm by his side. Hands touched and studied every scar and bruise. "Looks good. Now, on your side."

KY Jelly appeared and more gloves came out of the box. Ray froze. "What's that for?"

"I need to do a rectal. Just relax."

Instead of relaxing, Ray sat up quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the table. "No."

"Ray..."

"I said no. I can say no. I got rights." He swallowed hard, remembering the painful exams from the hospital. He forced his voice to stay steady. "Look, I'm good, I'm fine, no need to do that."

Barnes studied him for a moment an then took a deep breath. "I know this is difficult. I know it's not pleasant, but it's necessary. I need to be sure the tears are healed."

"I told you I'm not bleeding."

"I know what you told me. I still need to check. I can sedate you if you want."

"I'm sedated enough. I just don't need it."

"You don't really have a choice."

"So, we got one of those stalemate things going here, huh?"

"Not if I get your partner in here."

Ray gulped, the defeat like lead in his stomach. "That's not playing fair."

"I do what I have to as a doctor, Ray, just like you do as police officer. Now, please, lie down on your side. I'll be as careful as I can be."

Which, as it turned out, still hurt like hell. When it was over, Barnes wiped him off and then dropped his gloves in the bin. "You can sit up now. It looks better."

Carefully, Ray eased himself back to a sitting position, refusing to let the pain show. "Told ya."

"Still had to check. You'd be surprised at the number of patients who aren't always truthful with their physicians." Barnes crossed his arms, leaning back on the counter. "How's the pain in the arm?"

"Better."

"Still taking the Percocet that Dr. Raines prescribed?"

Ray didn't look up. "Yeah."

"I'd like you to reduce the dosage or go to Tylenol or ibuprofen instead."

"Dr. Raines thinks I should have the Percocet, at least until the cast comes off."

"I just don't want you to be over-medicated, Ray. Taking it with the Phenergan could be a problem."

Rubbing his face, Ray sighed. "Okay, okay. I guess I can cut back. The arm doesn't hurt that much anymore. They just help me sleep more than anything."

"Having trouble sleeping?"

"Some."

"How much is some?"

"Off and on. I have bad dreams sometimes."

"That's understandable. Have you seen a counselor yet?"

"I have to see one before I can go back to work, but not yet, no."

"Why not?"

"Been busy."

"Look, Ray..."

Holding up a hand, face red, Ray cautioned. "Don't say it. I know. I know I should see someone about this and I will. Just get off my back about it, okay? I'm tired of everyone ragging my ass." The words came out hard and rushed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like I was ragging your ass."

Hearing the words coming back his way, Ray shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just not ready to talk about this, not to you or anyone else. I still hurt."

"And you will for some time." Barnes paused. "Are you still determined to go to Canada?"

"Yeah. First thing next week if I heal up enough."

"You plan to stay long?"

"Two weeks. I have to be back to get the cast off and start PT."

Barnes nodded, considering the words carefully. "All right then, if you're going to go, I'll get a file ready. You can either carry it or get me a fax number for the hospital in Yellowknife."

"You don't have to do that."

"It's just a precaution." Barnes uncrossed his arms, but still leaned back against the counter. "You're doing remarkably well, but you're far from healthy yet. I just don't want you to end up in another country and not have the information available to let the doctors know your history if something should happen."

"Okay, sure. I guess it's a good idea."

"Good. Now, get dressed. I'm going to write out the new prescriptions and instructions. I'll leave them at the check-out. Make a new appointment with the nurse. I want you back in here with more lab work in 48 hours."

"I just gave."

"And you'll give more until I'm satisfied this infection and anemia are completely cleared up. Any questions?"

"You ever consider I might be anemic because you keep taking blood?"

Barnes smiled, shaking his head as he headed out the door. "I'll see you in a couple of days, Ray."

Getting off the table, Ray reached for his clothes, but sat down quickly on a nearby stool as the dizziness hit him again. Lowering his head, he waited for it to pass and then carefully dressed himself. He prayed he could get out the door and home without Fraser having to carry him over his shoulder like a useless sack of nothing, like the hollow ache he lugged around in his gut most of the time now.

"What's that?"

Fraser lifted his head after he put the carton into the shopping cart. "Dr. Barnes said he wanted you to start drinking at least two of these a day. They're more economical if we buy a bulk unit."

"It's a waste of money. I'm not drinking that shit."

"Ray..."

"Put it back."

"No."

"No?"

"No." Fraser stepped closer, his voice a bit lower, but firm. "You want to leave for Canada on time, then you follow the doctor's orders to the letter. Otherwise the trip might be cancelled until spring."

"That's blackmail."

"I wouldn't have to resort to extortion if you weren't so stubborn."

"Look who's talking. Your middle name's pig-headed."

"I do believe we're back to the kettle-pot metaphor, Ray."

Ray shut his eyes and shook his head, too tired to keep dealing with an obstinate Mountie in the middle of a drugstore. "Okay, okay, you win."

"Thank you kindly."

As Ray proceeded to push the cart, Fraser added Gatorade and a pound of decaf to their cart. Ray reached in and put the coffee back on the shelf. "Forget about it."

"You're not sleeping well. Reducing your caffeine intake only seems prudent."

"Then I'll cut back on coffee after dinner. I'm not giving up real coffee."

Reluctantly, Fraser gave in. He studied Ray a moment. "You look tired. Perhaps I should pay for this and then come back for the prescriptions later."

"We're already here. No need to make an extra trip."

"I just don't want you to tax your strength."

"I'm leaning on the cart here like a little old lady, Fraser. I think I can handle walking around a little bit."

"It's just that you sometimes tend to ignore your physical limits."

Ray sighed and didn't look up. "You worry too much. Just stop it. I'm doing a lot better. Barnes said so." Fraser didn't answer, but his jaw clenched as he tugged at his ear. "What? You don't think I'm better?"

"Well, yes, Ray, you're improving, but you still need proper care and tending to fully recover."

"But I don't need to treated like some kid, Fraser. I can make my own decisions about what I will and will not do."

Fraser straightened, his tone suddenly more icy. "You think I'm treating you like a child?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you implied it."

"Well, yeah, maybe, but I didn't mean it to hurt your feelings. I just need to do what I need to do."

"Which means what, exactly?"

Ray stood up and held out his hand, anger swarming through his head. "Give me the keys."

"What?"

"I said give me the damn keys. I'll wait in the car."

"Ray, it's cold outside."

"Not as cold as Canada."

"Well, no, but..."

"So, give me the keys. It's better than me losing it right here in the middle of the fucking store. I'll wait outside."

Fraser read his mood quickly and then nodded as he fished for the keys in his pocket. "Very well. I'll be out shortly."

Without answering, Ray walked away, his head buzzing and full of shit he wanted to do like kick down the wall or smash out a few windows. Outside, he pulled up his collar against the cold wind and drizzle as he headed to the car, the old Buick they'd borrowed from Frannie. He got in the passenger's side and sat back, closing his eyes, working to calm down, to pull back in before he exploded all over the place.

Ray absolutely hated the way Fraser took over, wanted to run things. Problem was, he also loved that about him, too, how he didn't have to worry about details, because Fraser knew how to do details better than anybody in the whole fucking universe. Didn't make it any easier to deal with when it came down to the personal boundaries though, down to the line that he didn't want anybody, not even Fraser, to cross.

Swallowing hard, Ray thought about control, how he needed it now after so long, to regain it, to master it, to know that he had some way to be the one who called the shots in his own life. Sure, he could give in to Fraser sometimes, wanted to, liked it because he knew Fraser needed to be in charge, too. Still, there had to be limits, a point where he said what he wanted or didn't want, what he would or would not do. Fraser had to respect that, regardless of how banged up Ray was, no matter how fucked up he ended up. Bottom line, he couldn't keep being pushed around, not unless he wanted to end up like he did with Stella, unable to make up his own mind about something as simple as being a boxer or even checking out dirty magazines unless he did it on the sly.

Squeezing his eyes shut even harder, he fought down the rising anger, the frustration. He worked to calm himself, to stop overreacting, leaping when he should just stand still and keep breathing, not cut off his nose to spite his fucking face.

He loved Fraser and Fraser loved him. Simple. He just needed to get some perspective and breathe a little deeper before he blew his damn head off.

The knock on the glass startled him and turned to see Fraser motion for him to unlock the doors. He flipped up the locks and sighed as Fraser loaded the groceries, dreading the apology. As soon as Fraser opened the door and got into the driver's seat, Ray cleared his throat and tried not to mumble. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About acting like a jerk."

Fraser turned in the seat, concerned, but not angry. "This has to be very frustrating for you." Fraser reached out and brushed his cheek lightly. "Sometimes I can be a bit overwhelming, but I do mean well, Ray. I love you. I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to take over your life."

"I know that. I didn't mean to make it sound like I don't appreciate everything you're doing."

"Still, you can't help but resent giving up some control in your life. It's only natural. You haven't been able to do what you've wanted for almost a month now. I would no doubt feel the same way were our positions reversed." A small smile thinned his lips. "And I do believe that you'd be just as zealous until I got better."

"Zealous, huh?"

"Oh, yes, Ray. I'm looking forward to your full recovery with great anticipation. I'm doing everything I can to make that happen as quickly as possible."

Ray's throat dried at the impact of the words. "I get that. You want me well, I want to be well. I think we're on the same page here."

"We just need to agree on an interpretation of how to achieve that goal."

"How about together?"

Fraser nodded, his face more relaxed. "Agreed. Now, I think we should go home so you can eat and get some rest."

"I thought we were going to go get some clothes and gear for the trip."

"Perhaps later this evening."

"Compromise. I'll eat, take a nap like a good boy, and then we'll hit the stores this afternoon."

"Done."

Ray nodded, a lot less fearful as Fraser started the engine and pulled out into traffic.

Ray woke up and rubbed his eyes, surprised by the flickering light from the TV. Fraser never watched television alone. Getting up slowly, he steadied himself and walked into the living room to find Frannie sitting next to Dief on the sofa, both woman and wolf intently watching THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS.

"Hey, Frannie. Where's Fraser?"

"Hey, yourself, Bro." She put down the potato chips and stood up, shooing Dief off the sofa and motioning for Ray to sit down. "He had to run some errands."

Ray settled onto the couch while she went to the kitchen and brought him back a small bottle of apple juice and a pill. "Fraser told me to give you this as soon as you woke up."

Popping the medicine and swigging the juice, Ray drank about half before putting it on the table. "What errands?"

Frannie shook her head. "He didn't say."

"He call you over to baby sit?"

"Of course not. I was going to come by anyway." Frannie didn't meet his eyes as she got up and turned off the TV. She never did lie worth shit. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. I'm good. You?"

Shaking her head, she crossed her arms. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better, Ray."

"Lie about what?"

Again, she didn't look up, but leaned forward, her hands together. "You know."

Fuck. "Frannie, listen, I don't know what to say."

"Say it hasn't been going on under my nose all the time I've been making a big, fat fool of myself."

"It hasn't, and you're not a big, fat fool. Hey, who wouldn't throw herself at a guy who looks like Fraser?"

Frannie shook her head, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "It's not just about that. Sure, he's about the most gorgeous man on the planet, but it's not about how he looks, never has been. He's a good man." She finally raised her head and met his eyes. "You know I'm divorced, right?"

"Yeah. Same here."

"Oh, yeah, we all know about Mrs. High and Mighty, I'm Too Good to Be Married to a Cop Stella."

Considering the situation, Ray gave her a pass on the bitchiness and prompted, "What about your divorce?"

"It was ugly. I married him straight out of high school, because in my family that's what you do. You find a guy, you marry him, and have a house full of babies."

"So why didn't that happen?"

"Because he was a pig. He cheated on me with everybody." She paused as she emphasized the last word. "I mean everybody, Ray, man or woman, it didn't matter."

"I'm sorry."

Frannie waved a hand in dismissal as he continued her story. "Then I met Fraser." She stopped, her eyes big, her words breathy. "He was so beautiful that first time I saw him. Ray brought him home and I thought my heart would just split open. I couldn't take my eyes off him."

"Or since."

"Like you've got room to talk. I'll bet you did the same thing with Stella."

Grudgingly, Ray nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"Anyway, he was working with Ray a lot and I got to know him, how smart and kind and just how good he is. He's not like any man I've ever met, nothing like the men in my family."

"He's not like anybody else, Frannie. Fraser is Fraser, one of a kind."

"Yeah, he is. I just can't believe I missed something so important about him. I mean, I never once had a clue he might be gay."

"He's not."

Frannie sat back and rolled her eyes, her words biting. "Call it whatever you want, but he's still sleeping with you, so to me that's gay, okay?"

"And are you okay with that?"

"No."

Ray bit his lip, her pain almost like another knife to his throat. "He never meant to hurt you. You know he really cares about you. We both do."

"I know. Doesn't make it hurt less."

"I'm sorry."

Frannie sighed and crossed her arms. "I always thought I was good about spotting gays."

"Spotting gays? What's that, some kind of sport?"

"At my house, in my neighborhood, yeah."

That hurt, made Ray worry about what might be said about him and Fraser when it all came out. "Your mom know about us?"

"Yeah. She hasn't said anything, but she's not stupid. After the hospital, there's no way she couldn't know."

"What about the hospital?"

"What do you remember?"

Ray cleared his throat and then reached for the bottle of apple juice. He finished it off and then worked to keep calm. "To be honest, I don't remember much. Pain mostly. And Fraser."

"Yeah, Fraser. He was there almost the whole time. Wouldn't leave your side. When you were in surgery for your arm, Ma and me, we showed up and he was sitting in the waiting room, head down, crying." Her voice choked. "I'd never seen him cry before, not even when he got shot in the back that time. I don't know what he would've done if he'd lost you."

Ray blinked away his own tears, gut clenched at the thought of Fraser so upset and so alone. "He's my partner, Frannie. Even guys cry when their partners get hurt. That didn't necessarily mean we're gay."

"No, but I saw how Ma acted when Pop died and my friend Martha when her Vinnie got sick. It was the same thing, the same pain. He loves you, Ray. No way can I can compete with that. Hell, there's no way I'd want to. I had my shot, but he wasn't interested. Seems he only has eyes for criminals and partners."

Ray's head came up. "Partners?"

Frannie snorted, smiling for the first time. "Not partners like my brother. Partners like you, you doofus."

"Just checkin'."

Smile faded, Frannie shook her head. "I don't know what the hell Ray's going to say when he hears about this."

"He's not going to find out until he comes back."

"No, but he'll come back someday."

"How do you think he'll take it?"

"I love my brother..."

Shit. "But?"

"But he's not the most open-minded son of a bitch. He's not going to like it and he's not shy about complaining about what he doesn't like."

"You saying that he'll hurt Fraser?"

"Knowing Ray, he'll shout and then think later." Before Ray could protest, she raised a hand. "Don't worry. He loves Fraser like a brother. He'll get over it, but it might take some time. You and Fraser, well, you've just got to be patient. It's not easy to get used to the idea that the guy you thought was one way turns out to be something completely different."

"He's not that different, Frannie."

"Trust me on this, Ray. In my head and in my brother's head, he's different. For the past three years I've thought about him in a certain way, a way I will not talk about, and now I find out that he's that way with you, and there's no way he'll ever be the way I thought he was."

"He's still your friend though. So am I, if you'll have me."

"Wouldn't be here if I held it against you."

"Thanks." Ray hesitated before he asked the next question. "Does Fraser know that you know?"

"No, but I figure he will after you spill the coffee."

"It's the beans, Frannie."

"Beans, coffee, who cares? The point is, I don't want to tell him and I'm not going to talk to him about it." Her face flushed. "It's just too humiliating."

"You don't have to feel that way."

"Don't tell me how to feel, Ray. It's bad enough that I lost the best guy in the world to the dope playing my brother. I don't need your pity on top of it."

"Dope? Who you calling a dope?"

"If the pump fits."

Ray sat back and shook his head in amusement. "It's shoe."

"Shoe, pump, sandal. You're missing the point."

"Which is what?"

"That you're family." Ray couldn't speak, couldn't even swallow. "So, I guess in a way, it's like Fraser's my brother-in-law." Her voice softened. "And I want that to be okay. I need to be all right with that idea, but it's going to take some time. Just give me some time to get used to it, that's all."

"Sure." He stumbled over his thoughts, not really sure what to say, so he kept it simple. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For thinking of me as family."

"Well, considering yours sucks to high Heaven and you're risking your skinny Polish ass to protect my brother's butt, it's the least I can do."

Ray couldn't argue, so he nodded as he leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did Fraser say when he'd be back?"

"Just that he'd be gone a couple of hours." She studied him with a frown. "You don't look so good. You want something to eat?"

"No, I'm good."

Frannie didn't argue, but she wasn't convinced, either. She picked up the bag of chips and held them out to Ray. "Here. Have one. We'll catch the end of YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS or you can watch that stupid hockey stuff."

"Hockey's on? What channel?"

Turning on the set, Frannie switched it to the sports network. She handed Ray the remote and went to the kitchen. "I'm having coffee. Want some?"

"Sure, I can do coffee." He watched the game with growing enthusiasm, lost in the wild thwack of the puck and the call of the announcer.

Frannie handed him a cup of coffee and then sat down in the chair, slipping Dief a couple of potato chips as she smirked at the game. "What is this, thugs on ice? Look at those guys. What a bunch of bozos."

Instead of being annoyed, Ray gathered his strength and argued, smiling and fussing, just like old times, glad he had a sister to mess with.

"Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Reese."

Reese stood up and motioned to a chair in front of his desk. "It's no problem, Constable. As a courtesy to your government, we offer human resources to all Canadian personnel in the city."

"Will it be confidential?"

"Yes. The only exception, of course, is if you threatened to harm yourself or someone else."

"Of course. I understand." Fraser hesitated and then added, "I'd like to keep this private. I'd rather not have my superior officer know I've resorted to counseling." He didn’t add how much Inspector Thatcher’s opinion mattered, how much he hated that it did.

"This isn't mandated, so there's no reason for people to know unless you wish to tell them."

"Thank you."

Reese sat down, moved his seat closer to the desk, and then turned his full attention on Fraser. "Now, before we begin, I must tell you that I can't discuss anything that your partner shared with me during our sessions. I hope that won't be a problem."

"No, I'm not really here about Ray. Well, that's not exactly true. I am here because of Ray, but this isn't really about Ray, not as such."

"Excuse me?"

Fraser shifted uneasily in his chair and pulled at his collar. "One of the reasons I wanted to speak with you was because you're already aware of the situation with my partner."

"Yes?"

"And I suppose I was hoping that would make it less difficult to explain why I'm here."

"Why are you here, Constable?"

"I'm not sure."

"Are you certain about that? You don't strike me as a man who would go to the trouble of seeing a counselor if you didn't know why."

Fraser stood up and walked to the window, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. No matter how many times he'd rehearsed in his head, his tongue still stumbled over the words. "Are you aware that Clooney made a tape of Ray's assault?"

"I didn't know that, no."

Blinking hard, his throat choked, Fraser struggled to speak. "I've been an officer of the law for all of my adult life. I took a sacred oath to defend the rights of all people, and for the most part, I'm good at my job. Despite that, I couldn't protect the one person I care most about in the world."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Impotent, angry, guilty, and incredibly sad." Fraser stopped and quickly brushed away a tear before he regained the use of his voice. "I suppose I'm here because I need to find a way to deal with all these intrusive feelings."

"Have you told your partner about these feelings?"

"He needs to focus on his own recovery. In fact, I feel guilty blathering on about this when he's the one who had to endure the actual ra..., that is, the assault. However, though I've tried a variety of ways to contain and channel these emotions and impulses, nothing seems to work for any length of time." Fraser turned towards Reese, his eyes pleading. "I suppose I'm here because I need your advice on how to deal with the negative impact of my partner's brutal attack."

"You started to say something instead of assault, Constable. I think you should say it. Your partner wasn't just assaulted."

Fraser closed his eyes, the grotesque images of Clooney hurting Ray flooding his brain. It took him several long moments before he responded. "He was raped. He still doesn't remember what happened, but I saw the tape. In some ways I envy his lack of recollection."

Reese sat back in his chair, his face pinched and serious. "May I call you Ben?"

"I prefer Fraser."

"Okay, Fraser, we need to talk about several things before I think I can help you deal with this trauma."

"It's Ray's trauma."

"But it's yours as well. Tell me about your relationship with Ray."

"We're partners."

"At work, yes, but is it more than that?"

Fraser swallowed down his fear of exposure and said the words out loud. "We're partners in every sense of the word."

"Intimate partners?"

"Yes."

"Rape and trauma don't just affect the survivor, but all the people who care about him or her. In this case, you're the one closest to the immediate fallout. Dealing with this won't be easy for either one of you."

"It's harder for Ray."

"This isn't a contest."

"I didn't mean to suggest that it was."

"No, but you also don't seem to be able to accept that you have a valid reason for the strong reaction you're having to what happened."

Fraser didn't respond right away. Instead, he settled in the chair across from Reese, but didn't look up. "I'm very uncomfortable with strong emotions."

"Why is that?"

"I suppose it's because I was always told that men weren't supposed cry or show those kind of feelings. Regardless of whatever progressive psychological research I've read that supports the opposing theory, that early developmental model stays with me."

"Your parents told you not to cry or show emotion?"

"My mother was murdered when I was six. I rarely saw my father. I was raised by my paternal grandparents. They came from the generation that believed showing strong emotions meant a loss of self-control, the ultimate sin for a Fraser."

"Your mother was murdered when you were just a child?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you became a member of the RCMP?

"My father was an officer as well. I came to Chicago on the trail of his killers."

Reese sat up straighter and nodded with recognition. "I remember the story now. He was killed by a fellow officer, a man you sent to prison." The doctor paused and studied Fraser with a deeper regard. "I'm sorry. That had to be difficult for you."

"That, I believe, would be a classic understatement."

"Do you have any family left?"

"I consider Ray to be family."

"I see."

Fraser almost smiled, remembering Ray's easy irritation at his own habit of saying those words. "Ray and I have been best friends since we became partners. It's only recently that we admitted to other aspects of our relationship."

"You mean sex?"

"I was speaking of romantic love, but, yes, sex is a part of that."

"Do you consider yourself homosexual?"

Fraser shrugged, uneasy with the shift in the discussion. "I'm more attracted to men than women, but I have had a relationship with a woman, disastrous as that was."

"Why disastrous?"

"She was a criminal I sent to prison." Fraser stopped, not ready to reveal the rest of that story. "It ended badly."

"In what way?"

"I'd rather not talk about that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's got nothing to do with my feelings for Ray. He's nothing like Victoria or anyone else I've been with. He trusts and loves me and I feel the same about him."

"Do you?"

Fraser's head came up. "I beg your pardon?"

"You say you love him, and I believe you, but do you really trust him?"

"Of course I do."

"Have you told him that you're here?"

Fraser flushed deeply. "No."

"Why not?"

"I suppose I didn't want to deal with his reaction."

"Which would be?"

"Negative."

"And?"

"He might also feel hurt, upset that I didn't trust him enough to share my problems like I try to induce him to share his."

Reese tapped a pencil on his paper and nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Trust is always one of the most difficult things to achieve in any relationship."

"It's not Ray. He's the most trustworthy man I've ever met, well, at least about most things."

"What does that mean, about most things?"

Fraser hesitated, not sure he could talk about Ray's struggle with addictions. "It wouldn't be fair for me to say. Besides, this isn't about Ray. This is about my own trust issues. I realize that. I don't always trust myself, therefore I sometimes project that suspicion onto Ray."

"Does this mistrust lead to problems between the two of you?"

"I can't deny that our most heated arguments do tend to be about trust as well as control."

"Control? Explain that."

Fraser sighed and stood up again, unable to think about the fear that he might lose his partner, might fail to help him recover. "Ray is sometimes his worst enemy, or seems to be. He's very resistant to following doctor's orders. I want him to be healthy, so sometimes I do tend to overreact, to take charge. He resents when I try to dominate him, which I confess, is a valid complaint."

"Do you consider yourself domineering?"

"No, but I do like to control aspects of our lives that really aren't mine to control. I understand the problem, but I don't seem to know what to do to change it." Fraser stepped to the window, his eyes trained to the outside, but his mind seeing a whole different picture, a flash of Ray’s bloody and battered body. He closed his eyes briefly as he rubbed his forehead. "I'm afraid of losing him."

"Do you think that's a realistic fear?"

"In the beginning, yes. He almost died and he's been very ill since then. Still, with proper treatment, he should recover. In some ways, I'm more afraid now than I was then."

"Are you afraid of rejection?"

"I don't question his love."

"That's not what I asked. Are you afraid that he'll change his mind about the relationship once he's physically healed and he won't be as dependent on your care?"

"Ray told me that he most admired me because of my self-control, my ability to seem calm when everything else is chaotic. He values that greatly. I suppose my fear is that he'll see the truth about me and not like what he sees."

"Because you don't like what you see?"

Fraser turned and met Reese's intent brown eyes, surprised at hearing the words outside his head. "Exactly. My self-image never seems to correspond to what others perceive."

"You think that if Ray sees you as you see yourself, he'll leave."

Nodding, Fraser once again found his seat, his chest tight. "I suppose that's why I'm here. If I can't master my own fears and insecurities, how can I possibly help Ray deal with his?"

"You realize that's a very tall order."

"Perhaps, but I want to try."

"That's the best way to start."

Ray squeezed his eyes shut, pulling up the blanket and working hard not to wake up completely. Vaguely, he heard whispers and thank you kindlys before the door shut. Barely opening one eye, he smiled when he saw Fraser kneeling beside the sofa ready to kiss his forehead.

"Hey."

Fraser pulled back, startled. "You're awake."

"Not yet. Where's Frannie?"

Combing his fingers lovingly through Ray's hair, Fraser studied his face as he spoke quietly. "She had to leave. You look pale."

Ray closed his eyes again, and took several deep breaths, savoring Fraser's soft touches. "Where you been?" Contact stopped abruptly and Fraser stood up to go to the kitchen. Ray opened his eyes, fully awake. "Fraser?"

"I needed to run a few errands. I thought it best that you rested."

"That's what Frannie said. By the way, I don't need a baby sitter, but thanks anyway."

"I just wasn't comfortable leaving you alone and Francesca mentioned she intended to visit. It seemed a good way to accomplish both purposes."

"She knows about us."

Fraser turned from the counter, frowning. "She spoke to you about it?"

"Yeah. She's embarrassed, but she seems okay with it, well, as okay as she can be considering how she feels about you."

"Oh, dear." Fraser shook his head. "I never wanted to hurt her."

"She knows that. It's just hard when you love someone and they don't feel the same way."

"Are you relating her feelings to how you felt about Stella?"

"Not everything's about Stella, but, yeah, maybe in this case I am. It was tough still being in love when she wasn't. So, I guess that makes me feel a little bit more for Frannie than I would if it was just any lady who had the hots for the guy I love."

Fraser flushed. "I appreciate that."

"What? That I feel bad that she's unhappy or that I love you?"

"Both, I suppose."

Ray sat up and rubbed his eyes before patting the cushion beside him. "Have a seat and tell me where you went." Fraser closed his eyes briefly, suddenly more tense. "Fraser, you're acting funny. What's up? The Ice Queen call and want you to cancel leave or something?"

Reluctantly, Fraser sat down beside Ray as he shook his head. "Nothing like that, Ray. No, this was something I needed to do. I'm uncomfortable because, frankly, I'm not sure quite how you're going to react."

"React to what?"

"I probably should've told you before I made the appointment, but I was afraid that if I did that, I might not follow through."

"Fraser, quit stallin' and just tell me what the fuck you did. What appointment?"

"I made an appointment with Dr. Reese."

The room got suddenly very still. Even Dief stopped moving and stayed hunkered down on the rug. Ray didn't speak for several long moments. "You made an appointment with Reese? For me?"

"No, Ray, for me."

"For you? What for?"

Rubbing his eyebrow and avoiding Ray's questioning stare, Fraser swallowed several times before he found his voice. "I felt the need for an objective ear."

"Objective ear? You went to a shrink because you needed someone to talk to? What am I, chopped liver?"

Fraser turned and shook his head. "I love you, but you're anything but objective when it comes to me."

Crossing his arms, Ray snapped, "So, you had a session with Reese because you think my opinions aren't good enough?"

"Not at all. Your opinions matter a great deal. The problem is, sometimes we're more alike than is prudent when it comes to addressing situations which disturb us."

"What's that mean?"

"It means we both avoid dealing with difficult issues sometimes."

"Nothing wrong with a little avoidance, Fraser, not when it comes to stuff that sucks."

"Perhaps, but sometimes we need to face our fears, Ray."

"You saying I don't face my fears enough?"

"I'm saying I don't. This wasn't about you, Ray. It was about me. I needed to do this." His throat dried, confession even harder than he expected. "I've found increasingly difficult to maintain my composure when dealing with this situation."

"You mean being with me?"

"No, Ray, I mean knowing that I couldn't stop what happened to you."

"What the fuck are you talking about? You think you're responsible for me getting hurt?"

"I couldn't stop it."

Ray's voice softened as he turned sideways on the sofa, the blanket pushed back out of the way. "You dumb Canadian, even the cops and Feds couldn't stop what happened. You think you're bigger and badder than all those tough guys put together?"

Fraser closed his eyes as he lowered his head. "I know intellectually what you say is true, but..."

"You don't believe it deep down?"

"No. I keep going over it in my head, trying different scenarios, trying to figure out what I did wrong, how I could've protected you better. Nothing seems to help."

"So you're obsessing about it, huh?"

"Yes, along with other things. I needed to talk to someone who has some emotional distance and psychological expertise to help me come up with constructive strategies to control these insidious feelings."

Ray touched his cheek gently. "Yeah, I know how those feelings get to you sometimes. So, you feel better?"

Fraser lifted his head and met Ray's eyes as he captured the hand at his face. He kissed the palm, his tongue quickly licking the center before he pulled back. "Not better, no, but different. Dr. Reese's perspectives are rather insightful. He gave me some ideas to ponder."

"Any homework? The guy's a freak about that kind of shit."

"Exercises, yes. For one, he wants me to start keeping a journal."

"I thought you already did that."

"I do, but this is a different type of journal, one where I'm to address my emotional reactions rather than a simple accounting of my day."

Still allowing Fraser to hold his hand, Ray studied the deep blue eyes. "You can do that, write about stuff like that? It won't bother you?"

"I think the fact that it will bother me is the point."

"I don't get it."

"If I'm to master these feelings, I must confront them, express them. I can't do that if I don't put them in some kind of logical order outside myself. Right now I feel a great deal of anxiety about what's happened. I think Dr. Reese's suggestion is not without merit."

Ray shook his head in admiration. "That takes guts, Fraser. I couldn't do that."

"Have you tried?"

"I don't write that great, never have."

"You write all the time, Ray. Your reports are always quite thorough, if not entertaining at times."

Ray chuckled and shrugged as he leaned in closer, letting Fraser wrap his arms around him. "I guess that's why Welsh says they're a joke, huh?"

"Seriously, Ray, you're not a bad writer."

"But that's work, Fraser. I write down the facts, fill in the blank stuff, nothing about how I think the scumbag should be locked up or shot. It's not the same thing."

"Perhaps not, but I think you underestimate your expressive abilities."

"Not when it comes to writing. I used to cut school sometimes to avoid turning in papers. I had to take summer school for English twice so I could finally graduate, just barely. I ain't good at that stuff. And if you want me to write about how I'm feeling, it's like I got this brick wall between me and the paper. I just can't put it down so it makes any sense."

"Have you ever tried drawing what you feel?"

"Drawing?"

"I've seen you draw on several occasions, Ray. You're actually quite good."

Ray turned in his arms, wondering if Fraser got kicked in the head or something. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Those sketches you make in your personal notes."

"Those are just so I can remember stuff better."

"I know, and I'm saying, they're quite well done. When I see one of your extemporaneous images, I usually know what it means without reading the narrative. I'm just suggesting, that perhaps it might be easier for you to find a way of expressing yourself graphically rather than through writing."

"You think I draw okay?"

"Yes, I do."

Nodding, warmed by Fraser's strong praise, Ray settled back against him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I still don't want to keep a journal though."

"It was just a suggestion. It might help you deal with some of your anxiety."

"Right now all I want to deal with is thinking about getting out of this place for a while. I was thinking we should go shopping for clothes and then figure out what we need to take with us next week."

Arms tightened around him as Fraser kissed the top of his head. "It doesn't bother you that I'm going to keep seeing Dr. Reese?"

"I'm trying not to think about that right now."

"I gathered that by your attempt to change the subject."

"Didn't work, huh?"

"Seriously, Ray, I need to know. If it bothers you, I can find someone else."

"I'm not sure how I feel. I mean, if you need to see somebody, I guess that's okay. But, why Reese?"

"I like him."

"Even though I thought he was a prick?"

"Even though, yes."

"Why?"

"For one, he seemed genuinely concerned about you when you were hurt, but it's more than that. He's also professional, and he's very focused. I need that, Ray. I need someone who's not going to be swayed by my tendency to lead conversations or shy away from difficult subjects."

"Yeah, he's tough, that's true."

"If you don't mind my asking, what was it about his approach that bothered you so much?"

Ray tightened at the memories of his two intense sessions. He forced himself to block it out, to not think about feeling so trapped, so out of control of his own life. "It wasn't just him. It was me. I know that. I resented being forced to be there. Still do. It should be up to me if I want to go or not. It pisses me off that they don't give me that choice, that to keep my job I've got to go spill my guts to some stranger. I guess if I'm fair, I took that out on Reese."

"Do you think it will be better when you start again with someone else?"

"I don't know. Guess I don't have a lot of choice about finding out." A wave of quick anger hit him again. He sat up and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head down. "Look, I'm glad it's okay for you, that you can talk to somebody if that's what you need, but shit, Fraser, the point is you get to choose and I don't. I hate it."

Fraser rubbed small circles into his back, the touch soothing, calming. "I'm sorry, Ray. I wish there were something I could do or say that would make the prospect less threatening."

Shaking his head, Ray took a deep breath and stood up, the anxiety back to full force. "It's not about threatening. I'm not threatened by that shit. I just don't see the fucking point. It's stupid. Some asshole listens to you bitch and moan and talk about stuff you can't change and then he wants you to tell him what it feels like to get kicked senseless, like that's some kind of fucking joke, like there's anything on this fucking earth that you can say that will make it better. Nothing he says or you say makes it better, nothing. Like I said, I just don't see the point of going through that, but I am not, I repeat, I am not threatened by some shrink who doesn't know dick about what I've been through."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to make you so angry."

"I'm not mad at you. I'm just, I don't know, I'm just pissed about this whole shrink thing. Seems like everybody's on my case to get started, and I'm not ready. Hell, I don't know if I'll ever be ready." Ray stopped for a moment and stared down at Fraser, his voice not as tense. "But I hope it works for you. Fuck, Fraser, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't want you to feel bad because you got hooked up with me. It wasn't your fault and if you need someone like Reese to convince you of that, well, then do it."

Fraser stood up and took Ray in his arms. "You enrich my life, Ray. I just wish I could make it easier for you and I think I can do that more effectively if I settle my own mind about some troubling, rather deep-seated personal issues."

Ray dropped his head to Fraser's shoulder, letting the rage drain out, wanting to just let his partner hold him like nothing else mattered around them. The hug charged him up, went right to his dick, made him flushed and suddenly hot all over. "Just so long as you don't think I blame you for what happened, because I don't, not ever."

"I know and I thank you for that."

"No need for thanks. It's the truth." Ray turned his head and kissed the side of Fraser's neck and then moved to capture his mouth. Pulling back, he whispered, "Any objections to a quick nap together?"

"Nap?"

"Your mouth, my hand, that kind of napping. Just thinking about it makes me hard." Ray smiled and took Fraser's hand, sliding it down the space between them to push against his bulging cock. "Feel that?" Breath hitched, Fraser nodded without speaking, his eyes never leaving Ray's hungry gaze. "Yeah, yeah, you feel that. You know you do that to me, right?

Hips shoved toward him, Fraser's own budding erection his answer. Ray guided him into the bedroom, his mind focused on being with Fraser, feeling good again, not thinking about anything other than that wonderful mouth, that safe harbor from pain.

Naked under the covers, Ray leaned against Fraser, his mind sleepy, his whole body relaxed, his partner's strong arms around him. Coming took on a whole new meaning when he came with Fraser. He sighed, contented as Fraser kissed his neck and laced his fingers through his right hand. Fraser lifted it to his face and breathed in deeply.

"Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"You sniffing my hand again?"

"It would seem so, yes."

"Freak."

"Understood." Fraser kissed him again and rested his chin on the top of Ray's head. "You make me extremely happy, Ray."

"Yeah, I sort of got that. Same here."

"You seem to be feeling a lot better. I take it the new medication is working to improve your condition."

"Yeah, I guess. I'm still kind of sluggish, but yeah, I feel better. Of course, it helps to have mind-blowing sex with a Mountie. Gives a whole new meaning to the saying, clearing one's head."

The soft chuckle shook both of them as Fraser lifted Ray's hand and held it up like a prize. "You have beautiful hands, Ray. So graceful and elegant, much like the rest of you."

"Graceful and elegant?"

"Yes, and talented."

"Well, talented I get." Ray pulled his hand back down, bringing Fraser's with it, and rested it over his heart. "I'm glad it's good for you, Fraser. I know it's damn fine for me." He paused, his voice lower. "I've never in my whole life had anybody do that for me."

"Stella never performed fellatio?"

"She tried, but she hated it, so after a while, I just stopped asking. But you, you're incredible. I mean, my God, Fraser, you swallow me whole. How the hell do you do that?"

"One must relax the throat muscles and suppress the gag reflex. It takes practice, but I've found the results to be well worth the effort."

"I'll say." Ray hesitated. "But is it really good for you? I mean, do you really like doing it?"

Fraser squeezed him with a quick laugh. "Indeed, I do." He whispered in Ray's ear. "I love sucking you off, Ray."

The crude words from Fraser's mouth made his cock tingle, eager to get up and try again, have that gorgeous mouth back in business. Unfortunately, recovery took longer than a few minutes. "You have any idea how hot it is to hear you say stuff like that?" Fraser's hand slipped down and stroked Ray's slowly reviving dick several times as his teeth nipped the side of Ray's neck. He arched back, complaining, "God, you're a fucking tease, Fraser."

Fraser rolled his balls, fondling him, his touches electric. Ray's dick hardened, ever so slowly, the ache deep down, his thighs shaking with anticipation. Fraser's hand wrapped around the cock and pumped him as his tongue and mouth explored his neck with licks and kisses. Ray moaned, the heat growing, the delicious fire easing up through his belly once again. "Fraser, Jesus, I just came."

Fraser growled deep in his throat as he suckled harder, his teeth marking Ray's skin. His hand stayed busy, the rhythm growing more steady as Ray's cock responded, grew harder, burning for more. Hips thrust into Fraser's hand, matching the action, Ray's whimpers lost in the fury of wanting more, needing to come, taking forever. Air thinned, Ray's panting caught up in the sudden rush of ecstasy that hit out of nowhere, his whole body shooting off at once. The raw scream caught him off guard, his mouth suddenly covered with Fraser's, the spasms ripping his spine from his body. Fraser's tongue probed deeper, blocking all air, meeting moan for moan. He couldn't stop coming, each wave like splashes of goodness everywhere at once.

Eyes still closed, he fell back, completely at the mercy of the man he loved. Fraser washed his face with more kisses, his hands all over, his tongue like magic. Ray struggled for air and finally managed a breathy, "Fuck, Fraser."

"Maybe next time, Ray."

Laughing out loud, Ray opened his eyes to see the hunger in those blue eyes, the fire he rarely got to see so close. He lay on his back, Fraser stretched out on top of him, their bodies sweaty and slick. He shook his head in amazement as he caressed Fraser's cheek. "What the fuck was that?"

"Sometimes the second climax is more intense than the first."

"But how did you know I could even get it up?"

Fraser dipped down and kissed him again, this time his tongue lazy and possessive. When he pulled back, he spoke in a hush. "I've never been this responsive to anyone, Ray. I just hoped you felt the same way."

"So you got hard again and you wanted me to join the ride, huh?"

"Thankfully, you appear to have enjoyed the activity as well."

Laughing, Ray hooked the back of his neck with his right hand. "Enjoyed? Yeah, you could say that." Closing his eyes, drinking in the rich scent of their sex mixed together, he wanted to slip down into sleep, the comfort of Fraser's embrace like a call to nothing but pleasant dreams.

Fraser's voice nudged him back to awareness, but just barely. "We need to clean up, Ray."

"Later."

"Ray, please. We need to shower and change the sheets."

"Ever the practical Mountie."

"You'll thank me later, Ray. Nobody likes to sleep in the wet spot."

"Love's a messy game, Fraser."

Fraser kissed him again in agreement, his tongue still wild and starving. Ray returned the favor and decided he and Fraser could live with wet spots just a little while longer.

"We need to make a list before we head out to the stores, Ray. Your wardrobe at this point is almost non-existent. We need to restock your closet first and then we can buy what you'll need for the trip."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

"Not necessarily. If we organize, we should be able to accomplish the task in two trips. I recommend we buy your clothes first, come home for lunch and rest, and then, if you're well enough, we can get the other supplies in the afternoon."

Ray stretched out on the sofa under the blanket, his head resting on a pillow as he watched Fraser fixing supper. He wiggled his toes and enjoyed the coziness of just lying back and letting Fraser do the whole domestic thing. "We could've gone out this afternoon."

Fraser turned and smiled, his body relaxed for a change. "I much preferred what we did instead, Ray."

"No complaints from me."

"I should think not."

"Smug bastard."

"My parents were married before I was born, Ray, so that's not entirely accurate. However, I must confess to feeling a trifle smug, so I will concede to part of that description."

"With good reason."

"Thank you kindly."

Ray chuckled, amused by Fraser's light tone. Who knew it took amazing sex to get the guy to loosen up? Hell, he hadn't had sex that good for a while, either, so he felt pretty damn fine himself. "I don't really need that many clothes, Fraser. Jeans, T-shirts, some underwear and socks. Nothing fancy."

Fraser shook his head as he returned to peeling the potatoes. "You need everything, Ray. You don't even have a good suit left."

"I don't really need a suit right away."

"True, but you will eventually. The point is, we need to make a list and we can either try to do it all at once or get the basics and do the rest when we return. The main thing is, you need thermal gear for when we travel. Nothing you own is going to be adequate for the weather in Yellowknife in December."

"Cold?"

"It's the arctic. It's frigid by any definition you can imagine. The average temperature can be minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit and that doesn't include the wind chill factor." Ray shivered involuntarily on the sofa as Fraser continued, "Properly outfitted, you should do fine, but there's no way we'll travel until you have a good cold-weather coat, hat, and gloves."

"That's going to cost some bucks, huh?"

Fraser stopped working and turned. He wiped off his hands on the dishtowel tucked around his middle and stepped closer to the sofa. "I can pay for the gear, Ray. You don't have to worry."

"Come on, Fraser. You don't have to do that. I can pay my own way. It's just a lot at one time, that's all."

Fraser sat down on the armrest and shook his head. "You don't understand, Ray. I don't mind. My monthly allotment is automatically deposited to my account and to be quite honest, being single and living at the Consulate, my expenses have been minimal. It's not a hardship."

"Still, I'd feel weird if I thought you thought I couldn't pay my own way."

"I don't think that."

"That's good, because I can. I'll pay for my own stuff, okay? It's not a problem."

"Certainly, Ray, but you know if we're going to be together, we need to eventually sit down and review our financial arrangements."

"You mean like having a joint bank account or something?"

"Well, I have moved in. It's only fair that I pay for part of the living expenses. According to most studies, the two things that cause the most discord in a marriage are sex and money. I don't want those to be problems for us."

Ray sat up a little and smiled. "Well, the sex part is good."

"And I want to be sure that finances are also satisfactory and not a source of conflict."

"Sure, sure, that's fine. I'm not that great with money. Stella used to handle all the bills and shit. I mean, now I just put the check in the bank and then buy what I need. I usually have enough to cover stuff. I try not to use the credit card unless I have to."

"You have a credit card?"

"Don't you?"

"No."

"Never?"

"They're not very feasible in the Yukon."

"But you've been in Chicago three years. You're tellin' me you've never used a credit card?"

"I've never needed one."

"What about when you're renting something or buying plane tickets? They won't let you get that stuff without a card."

"They will if you go in person and pay in cash."

"Canadian or American cash?"

"Depends on the airlines."

Ray took a deep breath, shaking his head, amazed at how differently Fraser lived from anyone he ever knew. "That's pretty damn cool, Fraser. I wish I'd met you years ago before I got in debt up to my ass. Took me ages to pay off those cards. Now I've only got the one, but like I said, I try not to use it. Thing is, I either use the card or go into my savings to replace all the stuff that was destroyed. The insurance check will probably cover it, but that hasn't shown up, probably because I haven't gotten around to filing all the papers yet."

"Insurance?"

"Yeah, renter's insurance. They should pay for the damage and to replace what got ruined. I just have to get a police report and send it to my agent."

"That's excellent news, Ray. Perhaps we can pick up a report tomorrow and file the paperwork right away. The processing might be done by the time we return from the trip."

"And we might get a free trip to Jupiter, too."

"I'm being optimistic on the timeframe?"

"You might say that, yeah."

Fraser shrugged. "At least it will eventually provide reimbursement. That should help alleviate the brunt of the financial burden of replacing what you need."

"Yeah." Ray nodded, trying to block out the images of the destroyed apartment, the mess, the broken bits and pieces of his life. "So, what are we having for supper?"

"Ah, well, I thought I'd go with something simple. Broiled steak, scalloped potatoes, and green beans. For dessert there's Mrs. Vecchio's pineapple cheesecake."

"You trying to fatten me up?"

"May I plead the fifth amendment?"

"Does that apply to Canadians?"

"I certainly hope so." Fraser stood and headed back to the kitchen. He finished putting the potatoes in the dish while he talked. "You can take a short nap if you like. This should be done in about thirty minutes."

Ray chuckled under his breath, pulling the blanket higher. "Two naps in less than an hour are about all I can handle, Fraser."

"I meant the traditional type of nap, Ray."

"We need a different name then. From now on, whenever I hear the word nap, I'm only going to think of one thing, you and the best sex in the whole fucking world."

Fraser flushed a deep red and turned toward him, the bright blue shine in his eyes truly stunning. "I love you, Ray. Sex is only one way to express that."

Ray's voice softened. "I know that, Fraser, I know it's not just about sex and getting laid. I know you love me better than anyone's ever loved me or will ever love me again. I feel the same way. Just wish I hadn't waited 'til I was all busted up to say it."

"The important thing is that it's out in the open now."

"Yeah, I guess."

Frowning, Fraser stepped back out of the kitchen. "What?"

"It's just I hate having to keep it a secret from almost everybody."

"We both knew that was part of it for now. We can't let most people know, at least until the Vecchio assignment is over. Perhaps then we might consider being more open."

The warmth of the moment evaporated. "As long as I'm a cop, it's going to be a problem, Fraser."

"It doesn't necessarily have to be."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that you can be in a gay relationship and still be a police officer in Chicago. Legally, they can't fire you."

"They don't have to. Fraser, I told you how it is here. This isn't Canada. If I stay a cop and want to do my job without extra shit every day, I have to stay in the closet about this."

Fraser's expression hardened as he sat down in the chair across from the sofa. "Will you be able to do that?"

"I don't know."

"So, what exactly are you saying, Ray?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I'm sort of thinking out loud."

"Are you thinking that being together is a bad idea?"

Ray met his eyes, startled. "No, I'm not saying that at all. Jesus, Fraser, I just got up the courage to be with you. I'm not going to give you up just because a bunch of backward assholes can't handle me being a faggot. I'm just not sure I'm going to be able to keep it secret and if I can't do that, then I'm going to have to think about other job options."

"You're thinking about quitting the police force?"

"Maybe."

"What would you do instead?"

"I don't know. I can do lots of stuff."

"Of course you can."

"I guess, I was just throwing it out there so you wouldn't be too shocked if I suddenly said so long to the badge when Vecchio gets back."

Fraser crossed his arms, his eyes studying Ray carefully. "I appreciate you telling me, but it's your decision. I'll support whatever you decide to do."

"What if I told you I wanted to move to Canada?"

Fraser sat back, stunned. "You mean that?"

"I'm thinking about it. I mean, it's a sure thing that eventually they're going to move you back. They can't keep you in exile forever. When they do, I just want you to know I'm planning to go with you."

Fraser bit his lower lip, his eyes suddenly red. "You have no idea what that means to me."

"I think I do. You think I don't get that you think that I'm going to get tired of you once I get on my feet again. But you forget you're not the only one in this partnership for the last year. I know you, Fraser. You really think I'm going to use you and move on once I'm well again? If I didn't love you so damn much, I'd be pissed, but, see, I know how you think. What you need is someone like me who doesn't give up. Once you've got me, I don't let go easy. You think you've seen me stubborn? You ain't seen nothing yet. Where you go, I go. A permanent duet. Got that?"

Fraser hesitated, but only for a brief moment. He smiled and nodded, his voice slightly choked. "Yes, Ray, I do. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saying what I needed to hear."

"You're welcome." Ray closed his eyes, his breathing even, happy he finally said what he'd been keeping so close to his heart. "I'm tired. You wear me out with this stuff."

Fraser answered with a kiss on his forehead as he slipped back to the kitchen, his soft, happy hum like a serenade to their love.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"It itches." Ray jabbed the business end of the steak knife down the end of his cast, scratching the godawful, nonstop itching. He wanted to scream at the way his skin crawled just under the plaster.

Fraser reached over and took the knife from his hand. "I know it itches, but it's dangerous to do that. You could damage the skin or stab yourself."

"It's a fucking steak knife, Fraser. I'd have to poke it in there pretty damn hard to hurt anything. I just want to take the edge off a little."

Fraser shook his head and took the knife to the sink before sitting back down. "I've had broken bones before, Ray. I know how terribly distracting the irritation can be when they're healing. However, we can put talcum powder in the cast and that should help relieve the sensation."

"The knife's quicker."

"I'm sure it is, but we're not going to do that again."

Ray tilted his head, his lips pursed with annoyance. "What's up with the we shit? You're not the one wearing the cast last time I checked."

"Perhaps I should go fetch that powder."

"Perhaps you should take Dief for a walk instead. He hasn't been out and I'm thinking he's crossing his paws about now."

"It's only natural to be irritable during convalescence, Ray."

Ray got up from the table and headed for the bedroom. "Just take the damn wolf for a walk before I get pissed."

Fraser followed right behind him, his voice tense. "It would seem it's too late for that. Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not angry."

"Ray, you're overreacting about the knife."

"It's not the knife. It's not about the fucking knife."

Ray paced back and forth at the end of their bed, Fraser watching him intently from the doorway. "Then what is it about?"

"It's about what the knife stands for."

"I don't understand."

"Give the man a cigar. Of course you don't. How could you, Mr. I always know what's best? I'm a grown man, Fraser. You don't get to tell me what to do all the time." Ray stopped and took a deep breath, working like hell to push down the waves of anger swelling all around. "Look, it's like I know you mean well. I get that, but you've got to trust me to know what I know, too."

"Know about what?"

"About me, about what I need sometimes. If I want to use a fucking butcher knife to scratch my arm, then by God, that's my own damn choice."

"Ray, using a butcher knife would just be foolish."

"Fuck you, Fraser. You're not listening."

Fraser paused, his face pale, his eyes serious. "I am listening, Ray. I'm just not sure I understand what you're saying. Do you really think I'm arrogant?"

"I never said you were arrogant. You're not stuck up. I didn't say anything like that."

"No, I meant arrogant in that I think I know everything, because that's not true. I don't think that."

"You might not think it, but you act like it, and fuck, why not? You do know a lot of stuff, a lot more than I'll ever know, a lot more than most people will ever think about knowing. That still doesn't give you the right to tell me what I can and can't do. Don't do that, okay? It makes me really crazy when you do that."

"I can see that."

Ray stopped pacing suddenly and then sat on the edge of the bed, his head down. "Just take Dief out for a while. I'll be fine when you get back."

"I don't want to leave you when you're so agitated."

"I need a little space here, Fraser. I'm not used to a 24/7 watchdog, especially one that never misses a fucking thing."

"Well, obviously I missed something. I never saw this coming."

"This what?"

"This reaction." Fraser stepped closer and then sat down beside him, his hand on his back. "I never meant to upset you. I'm sorry."

"What for? You didn't really do anything you haven't done a million times. It's me, Fraser. I can't seem to figure out what's wrong with me. I'm just fucked up." His words choked. "I'm sorry. Just leave me alone for a little while. I'll be okay."

"I'll take Diefenbaker to the park. I'll take your cell phone in case you need to call."

"Sure. That's good." As Fraser kissed him on the temple, Ray closed his eyes, his body shaking. "I'm sorry, Fraser. I just keep losing it for no reason. It's not you."

"I love you, Ray." Fraser stood and headed to the doorway, signaling for a worried Diefenbaker to follow. He called back from the living room. "I'll be back shortly."

Ray didn't answer, just waited for the door to close, listened for the fading footsteps on the stairs to go away. Still sitting on the bed, he took a deep breath. "Fuck." He had absolutely no idea why he'd gone nuts like that, none at all, not really.

Standing, he went back to the kitchen and got the knife, held it up and studied the edge, the smooth sharpness of it just beyond the handle. His gut twisted as he remembered a similar blade, one held to his throat, one that bit into his skin like a thin burn and then long ribbons of pain all over. He dropped the knife in the sink and sagged down in the chair by the table. Head down, he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting off the visions of other cuts, gashes into his leg and back, his skin being sliced away as a larger man held him down. Clooney's bloody mouth suckled the wounds, whispered in his ear about the flavor, about the taste of him, about fucking the bitch as long as he wanted. Ray's struggle failed completely as he fell back, his heart pounding, Clooney touching him all over, his legs forced apart.

Gasping for air, Ray jerked up and opened his eyes, the light of his apartment grounding him in the present. "Jesus." Still breathing hard, he forced himself up from the table, and rushed to the bathroom. He stripped off all his clothes, checking for blood. Part of him knew he was crazy, irrational, no way there was blood now, not now. The other half of his brain made him see for himself, know for sure that it wasn't then, wasn't the time before, the time when he couldn't stop what happened.

Satisfied, but exhausted, Ray slid down the wall, his knees up. He shuddered, his arms wrapped around himself.

"Dear God, Ray, what happened?"

Eyes still closed, Ray bit back the lingering fear. "I panicked a little."

"Panicked? About what?"

"I don't know."

A blanket draped around him as Fraser moved to sit beside him on the cramped floor of the bathroom. "Ray, please, tell me what happened."

"I'm not sure." Fraser hugged him closer, Ray relaxing, drinking in the heat of his lover's body.

"Just tell me what you remember."

The words came out haltingly, resistant. "It was like I was dreaming, but I wasn't asleep. It seemed real."

"What seemed real?"

"The cuts. I was looking at the knife and then I remembered getting cut."

Fraser embraced him even harder, a brief kiss to his cheek. "Why are you in here naked?"

"Blood. I had to check for blood."

"Ray, there's no blood. You're safe."

"I know. I had to see for sure though. It was real."

"It was real before, but not now."

Ray sagged against Fraser, exhausted again. "You weren't gone very long."

"I was gone for over thirty minutes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Didn't feel like it. It happened so fast. Everything just tilted and I was back where I was before."

Strong arms held him and then urged him up. "Let's get you to bed. You're freezing."

Ray didn't protest, just let himself be guided to the bed, safe and warm under the covers. Fraser sat on the edge, watching him with concern. "I'm sorry I upset you before."

"It wasn't you. It was the knife."

Nodding, Fraser cupped his face. "I think you've had what's known as a flashback."

"Fuck. That can't be good."

"No, no, it's not, but it isn't totally unexpected."

"It was for me."

"I can imagine." Fraser kissed him sweetly and then sat back up. "Do you have any idea what triggered it?"

"The knife. I was holding it and then I remembered being cut."

"Did you recall anything else about the attack?"

"I remembered he liked sucking the blood, but other than that, no." Ray bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, his voice strained as he held back the smallest of lies, the biggest of lies. "This is scary shit, Fraser. I mean, this came out of nowhere."

"No, it didn't, Ray. You've survived a serious trauma, most of which you've blocked out. Flashbacks aren't that uncommon for situations like yours."

"They're not common for me."

"Of course not. I didn't mean that."

"I know."

Ray took Fraser's hand and held it to his chest, trying desperately not to sound pathetic. "Come to bed, Fraser. I'm tired and I don't think I can sleep alone."

"Let me lock up and I'll be right back."

As Fraser stood to leave, Ray released him. He closed his eyes again, hoping like hell he didn't have to deal with the whole blood shit again, knowing deep down that it most likely would get worse before it got better. He trembled at his own thoughts, his own predictions, and prayed for Fraser to hurry.

Ray sat at the table, his shoulders hunched over as he held the coffee mug with both hands. It didn't stop the shaking, but he managed to drink a little bit before he finally set it back down. Fraser busied himself with oatmeal. "Ray, I think we need to talk about what happened."

"I don't."

"I understand that, but..."

"But you still want to talk about it. Fine, talk. Feel better."

Fraser ignored the hostility and served up the oatmeal before returning the pan to the stove. He sat down, but didn't touch his spoon. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together in front of his face. "When I saw you last night, Ray, it scared me."

Of all the things he could've said, that was the one thing Ray didn't expect. "Fuck, Fraser. I'm sorry."

"You didn't do it on purpose, Ray. You had an episode, something that you had no control over. It's nothing to be sorry about. Still, it concerns me."

"Me, too."

"Have you had anything like this happen before?"

"What? You mean like going nuts and thinking I'm covered with blood when I'm not?"

"That or something like it."

Ray sat back, his arms crossed, his sweatshirt not nearly warm enough to make up for the bone deep cold he couldn't seem to shake. "Nothing quite as bad as that, no."

Fraser moved his arms off the table and studied him closer. "Nothing quite as bad implies that you've had similar situations."

"Sometimes I lose time, just sort of get lost in my head a while. Sometimes I remember shit out of nowhere, smells, sounds, feelings." Ray closed his eyes, fighting off the memories. "You've seen what can happen a couple of times. I just lose it. At least this time I didn't upchuck all over the place."

"I should've recognized what was happening when you got sick before. I didn't make the connection."

Ray shrugged, not meeting Fraser's concerned gaze. "I didn't make the connection, either, so don't feel bad. I've always had a tricky stomach."

"I know, which is why I didn't see that there might be a bigger problem than just a reaction to stress or exhaustion. However, at least now that we've seen what can happen, we can be more prepared if it should occur again."

Ray turned his head and frowned. "You're not going to insist I go see some shrink right this minute?"

"Is that what you expected me to say?"

"Yeah. I figured you'd be pushing me hard to get my ass in right away."

Fraser sighed and shook his head. "Ray, I'd be pleased if you decided to see someone, but that's up to you. As you've pointed out repeatedly, you don't feel ready. I see no reason to belabor the point. Might as well try to count every snowflake in Canada."

"Not going to happen, huh?"

"Something like that." Fraser motioned to the bowl in front of Ray. "Eat before it gets cold. I've prepared a list and we can head out to the stores early."

"You think it's safe to take me out in public?"

"I take Diefenbaker out in public."

"Good point, but he's got better manners."

"I'd say you were pretty much even."

The wolf sniffed, not the least bit amused at the joke as Ray laughed and drank some more coffee. He still didn't touch his oatmeal, though, and Fraser handed him some toast and pineapple preserves. "Try to eat something."

"You know me and breakfast don't see eye to eye. It's a waste to even fix anything this time of day."

"I know you've told me, but..."

"But you keep trying. I know."

"Perhaps we could stop at Kuntz Bakery for some Danish before we go shopping."

"Yeah, maybe. It just takes me a couple of hours to put anything in my stomach other than caffeine." Ray dipped his spoon into the mushy oatmeal and let some of it drop back into the bowl. "It's nothing against your cooking, honest. I felt the same way when Mom fixed stuff. Never could get me to eat it."

Defeated, Fraser nodded and proceeded to eat his own breakfast while Ray drank more coffee, filling his cup twice more before he drank the last bit. Sitting together quietly, just the two of them, calmed Ray more than he ever expected. When Fraser got up and cleared the table, Ray stood and helped. He returned the milk and preserves to the refrigerator and then positioned himself beside Fraser as he ran the water to do the dishes. "You want me to dry those?"

"No, that's fine. Why don't you go make the bed and take your medicine?"

"You make the bed better than I do."

Fraser met his eyes. "Yes, I do, but practice might change that."

"Okay, okay, I'll make the bed. Just don't expect to bounce any quarters."

"Would that be an American or Canadian coin?"

Ray leaned in and kissed the smirk off his partner's face, his tongue darting in, the taste of tea and oats mixing with his coffee. He pulled back and leaned his forehead against Fraser's. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"And I you, Ray. Now, go make the bed and get ready. There's something called an early bird special at Bloomingdale's. We get an extra 15 percent off any clearance items if we get there and make our purchases before eleven."

Ray pulled away and headed to the bedroom, muttering as he went. "Right, right, early bird special. Gotcha."

"And, Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"If you start to get tired or you feel like you need to leave, just tell me."

"Sure, Fraser. The same with you. If we get there and the crowd bugs you, we can just wait or go some place else."

"That seems fair."

"Good."

Ray walked into the bedroom and stared at the bed, wishing like hell he could just crawl back under the covers. The idea of shopping to replace all the destroyed clothes almost made him dizzy. Still, he had Fraser and if anyone could organize a quick, in and out, get it done efficiently with the least amount of hassle expedition, it was his Mountie. Hurriedly, he straightened the pillows and top sheet before pulling up and smoothing out the blanket and comforter. Not for the first time, Ray realized that having only one good hand sucked when it came to doing housework.

Ray stepped to the bathroom and picked up the pill bottles. He'd taken the Phenergan earlier when he first got up, so he took his antibiotic. Fingering the Percocet bottle, he thought about skipping another dose, but figured with the nagging headache already creeping up the back of his head, he'd better be safe. He popped one in his mouth, hoping it kicked in quick, praying it worked its magic so he could just skip any jagged edges that might snag his mind and make him act all crazy again. No way did he want to think about getting in a busy store and making some kind of scene, like he couldn't control himself anymore. He closed his eyes and pushed away the thought, forced down the rising fear that the best thing he could do would be to lock himself away.

Fraser stood at the doorway, watching him intently when he opened his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just a little headache."

"Did you take anything?"

"Just the usual."

Fraser nodded and then stepped closer as he wrapped his arms around Ray's waist. "You'll be fine, Ray. If you feel like there's going to be a problem, I'll get you out quickly. You don't have to worry."

Ray shook his head and snorted lightly. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Read my mind."

"Actually, you're a very difficult person to read sometimes, but not about this. Anyone would be frightened after what's happened."

"It's just shopping."

"It's going out into a crowd when you're not sure how you're going to react even in private."

Ray relaxed into Fraser's embrace and rested his head on his shoulders. Fraser rubbed his back lightly before a quick squeeze. "We should go."

"Yeah, yeah. We should." Ray didn't move from the hug. "Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"Just give me a minute, okay?"

"You've got as long as you need, Ray."

Ray held up the tag on a plain, grey sweater, his eyes squinty. "What's that say, Fraser? I don't have my glasses and there's no way that can say what I think it says."

Fraser read the tag, his right eyebrow lifted in surprise. "It says $112.49, marked down from $224.99."

Snorting, Ray put the sweater back. "That's what I thought it said."

"It does seem a tad expensive."

"Try too fucking expensive. It's not even all wool."

"And I must say the workmanship isn't the best quality, either."

Ray shook his head and sighed. "I think we're going to have to admit defeat here, Fraser. I can't afford this stuff even when it's marked down."

"We got a good deal on the undergarments and socks."

"Yeah, yeah, we did, especially the thermal underwear, and I liked that one flannel shirt that was on sale, but the rest is way out of my league. Hell, they want sixty bucks for a pair of jeans and they're not even broke in."

"Broke in? Do you mean broken in?"

"Broke, broken, whatever. I just mean pre-washed and soft so they fit right."

"Ah."

Ray ignored the ah and went over to another clearance rack, still disgusted at the outrageous prices. He didn't see a single shirt that he'd pay his own money for. "I think we picked the wrong place to shop."

"Perhaps we did. I think if you're not put off by wearing broken clothes, I might have a suggestion."

Ray looked up. "What?"

"There's a consignment shop I sometimes frequent that might be more to your liking. There are also some thrift shops we could try."

"You mean buy second hand stuff?"

"It's seems a good option. I've found many a bargain."

"Bargain, huh? Sounds good. How fast can we get there?"

Fraser checked the clock over the nearby counter. "It's after one o'clock now. I suggest we have lunch first and then drive over."

"Jesus, Fraser. We've been shopping for over three hours. No wonder my feet hurt."

"Then lunch it is. Should we go home or eat out?"

"Let's save time. There's a Chinese place on the corner. Let's go there and then check out these other stores."

At the restaurant, Fraser ordered for both of them. They sat quietly while they waited, Fraser sipping tea, Ray drinking his coffee. After a few minutes, Ray leaned in. "So, how come you've been holding out about these consignment places?"

"I wasn't exactly holding out. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about shopping second-hand shops as you call them."

Ray nodded, accepting the explanation with no problem. "You know, Stella wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that."

"Why's that?"

"Take a guess." Before Fraser could hazard a response, Ray held up a hand. "This is one of those times when I didn't really mean for you to answer."

"I see."

"Yeah, you probably do. Stella has this thing about fitting in with the upper class. No reason why she wouldn't. I mean, she came from money, and I'm talking Gold Coast money. Her dad's a big shot who runs some kind of finance company and her mom's into all these social clubs and shit. You should've seen the look on their faces when Stella walked in with me. You'd thought she'd stepped in a big pile of Dief shit."

Fraser didn't interrupt, but his face made his disapproval obvious. "Yeah, I know, it was rebellion on her part. Sometimes when I get really down on myself, I think that was the only reason she hooked up with me in the first place. I was a way to snub her folks. Funny thing was, after a while she was as bad as they were, looking at me like why the hell couldn't I be more like she wanted, more like the guys she was used to? She wanted to dress me a certain way, to eat fancy dishes, to give up boxing, do what she wanted every damn time." Ray paused, his eyes not really focused on the present. "And for a while, that was okay. I'd have cut off my right arm to please her. But it was never enough, Fraser, never enough. I could never do refinement, not the way she needed. So after a while it just fell apart when I wasn't looking, when I wasn't on guard to the fact that she got tired of putting up with this guy who would never be the guy she really wanted."

Before Fraser spoke, the food arrived. As soon as the waiter left, Fraser served the rice and then the sesame chicken. Ray used a fork and Fraser used his chop sticks as he spoke quietly. "You know, Ray, as hard as all that was to live through, you've at least managed to remain friends, or at least remain relatively friendly. She does care for you. There's no question about that."

Ray nodded thoughtfully, chewing the chicken, but then quickly gulping down lots of water. "Damn, that's hot."

"It is rather spicy."

Ray took another bite. "It's not bad though."

"It's very good, actually."

"Yeah, it is." Ray bit his lower lip, a little self-conscious. "I didn't mean to start in on Stella again. I'm not sure why I said all that."

"It must bother you. And as you mentioned, Stella probably wouldn't approve of consignment or thrift stores."

"Yeah, she is kind of snobbish." Fraser tilted his head, a small grin trying to show up. "Come on, Fraser, admit it. You think she can be snobby, too."

"Ray, you already know what I think about Stella."

"Oh, yeah, you made that pretty clear." Ray sat back, more relaxed than he could remember being in a long time. "And that's okay. So, you think any of these places will have that cold weather stuff you were talking about?"

"I doubt it, but we can check."

"Because I feel pretty good, but I'm not sure I can handle going for the coat and gloves and shit all in one go round."

"That's fine, Ray. We'll buy what we can today and go tomorrow after your appointment with Dr. Barnes."

Ray stilled. "I forgot about that."

"You're doing much better. It should only be blood work and a quick exam."

"Should be, but you never know what that guy's going to come up with. Seems to get his jollies making me squirm and giving me lectures about shit."

Fraser frowned but remained quiet while he finished lunch. Ray ate about half his meal and gave up. "You know what would be good?"

"What?"

"If I could get my car out of storage and have it towed over to Larry's Garage."

"Larry's Garage?"

"Yeah, he's a friend from the old neighborhood. He's got his own place now. Let's me use it sometimes."

Fraser put his chop sticks down and sat back. "I thought you wanted to fix your car yourself. You seemed quite adamant about doing it right."

Shrugging, Ray didn't look up, just moved the food around on his plate. "Well, yeah, I'd like to do it myself, but I don't see that happening anytime soon and we can't just keep bumming off Frannie. I figure I can let Larry replace the tires and put a few coats of paint on. Then in the spring, I'll be able to do the rest myself. I mean, it would still be drivable if he fixed it. It just won't look as good until I put on the final coats and do some detailing. Larry's almost as good as me, though, so I might even let him go for it."

"Then that sounds like a good plan. Would you like me to contact a reputable towing service?"

Suddenly very tired, Ray shook his head. "No, I'll call Larry myself. He's got his own truck. It won't be a problem."

"Are you all right? You look pale."

"I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"About?"

"About my dad."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Ray sighed deeply. "It's just that we worked so damn hard on that car and when he came back from Arizona that was his way of making it right between us again. He didn't have to keep it up, didn't have to give it to me, but he did because it was his way of saying he still loved me. Now, here we're not talking again and the car is fucked. Just seems symbolic or something."

"You mean you think the condition of the car represents the condition of the relationship with your father?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Do you think repairing the car might somehow mend the differences between you and your father?"

"No, I don't think that." Even as he said it, he hated the words, didn't want to admit the pain they carried. "My dad made his choice. He doesn't want to call me his son anymore."

"That's his loss, Ray."

"I know." Ray looked up, his eyes blurry. "But it's mine, too." Standing up, he took a deep breath to clear his head, and picked up the bill. "Enough chitchat about stuff that don't matter. Pitter, patter, we've got clothes to buy and budgets to turn to shit. You up to watching me write some more checks?"

"Seems I've got the easier task."

Ray chuckled and shook his head. "Depends on how much stuff you get to carry. Speaking of checks, let me pay this and then we'll take all those bags to the car."

"Certainly."

Stepping to the counter, Ray pulled out his wallet and took care of the check, his mind busy on counting bills and change and pushing away the hurt of thinking about his father's rejection.

"Okay, okay, this is more like it. Look at this, a Bull's T-shirt for $5. I think we've found the right place.

"But you already have one of those and it wasn't damaged."

Ray dropped the shirt over Fraser's arm and shook his head. "You can never have enough T-shirts, Fraser, not with the right logos. Besides, they're collector's items."

"I hardly think so, Ray. This one is far from mint condition."

"What do you expect for five bucks?" Ray continued pushing through the rack of shirts, pulling out four sweatshirts along with two flannel ones. "You should probably take those up to the counter and have her hold them while we go through the other stuff."

Fraser nodded. "Perhaps you should try these on first."

"No need. I know what size I wear."

"You've lost weight over the last few weeks."

Frowning, Ray moved to the rack with the jeans. "Not enough to make that much difference."

"There are dressing rooms in the back."

"I just said I'm not trying stuff on, Fraser, so drop it."

Fraser's lips thinned. "Consider it dropped."

Ray stopped and turned, grabbing Fraser's arm before he walked away. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap, but I just don't have the energy to strip off and try on clothes. I just don't."

"Understood. It's not a problem."

"You sure?"

"Ray, it's your money, your clothes. You do what you're comfortable doing."

"Thanks."

Smiling again, Fraser headed off to take the selected items to the register. Meanwhile, Ray continued to sort through pants and jeans, checking sizes and conditions of the clothes. As soon as Fraser returned, Ray handed him three pairs of well worn jeans and a pair of grey slacks that looked brand new. "I like this place, Fraser. I think someone must have cleaned out the right closets just for me."

"It would appear that you're having good luck finding broken jeans."

"Just the way I like'em." Ray threw another pair over Fraser's arm and then got a gleam in his eye as he headed for the jackets. "Oh, my God, Fraser, look at this."

"What?"

Ray snatched a black leather jacket from the rack. "I can't believe this. It's only $25." He had Fraser hold his tan coat. Then, he slipped on the leather one, tugging to get it over his cast, the sleeves a little longer than they should be, but not so long he couldn't roll them up or have them altered. Hell, Fraser could do amazing things with a needle sometimes.

"Oh, my."

Ray lifted his head and met hungry blue eyes. "You like it?"

Fraser cleared his throat and licked his lower lip, his voice suddenly more husky. "You look very James Dean-like, Ray."

Chuckling, Ray stepped closer and whispered, "I'll show you James Dean when we get home."

Fraser blushed bright red and nearly choked when the owner walked up behind them. "Having fun, guys?"

Ray laughed and nodded. "This is a great place." He held out a hand. "I'm Ray Vecchio and this here is Constable Benton Fraser..."

"Of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who first came to Chicago on the trail of his father's killers."

"I see you've heard the story."

Shaking his hand, the woman grinned. "The name's Debbie, and I've heard a great deal about you, Ray." She glanced mischievously at Fraser and leaned in. "He did say you were handsome, but he didn't say you were so raw."

"Raw?"

"I mean that in the best way." She looked him up and down, her eyes bright with approval. "Oh, yeah, raw works. Like the jacket?"

"It's great."

"It just came in this morning. Looks good."

"You sure about the price?"

"Absolutely. The guy who brought it in is going through a preppy phase and wants to get a new image. He wanted to sell quick and cheap."

"Works for me."

"Ray has an affinity for leather."

Debbie touched the soft brown leather of Fraser's jacket and nodded. "I can see that."

Once again Fraser's complexion turned dark red and Ray couldn't stop smiling. "He wears it to drive the girls crazy."

Debbie eyed him a moment, her eyes a little more narrow, as if the words surprised her. Then she relaxed and nodded, "Let me know if there's anything I can do, Fraser. Just bring it to the front and I'll hold it for you. Ray, nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you, too."

As soon as she went back to the front counter, Ray turned to Fraser. "What was that about? She acted like I farted or something."

"I think she was startled by your statement in reference to my trying to make the girls crazy by wearing leather, which as you know, Ray, is hardly the truth."

"Well, I can't say you wear it to turn me on."

Fraser shrugged. "Debbie is very astute about such things, Ray. I can't say for sure, but I suspect she knows we're a couple."

Ray craned his neck and glanced at Debbie quickly and then back at Fraser. "How?"

"As she mentioned, I have on occasion, told her about you."

"And you think she's figured it out by the way you talk about me?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if there were the case."

Ray took off the jacket and put his own coat back on, wondering if he should be pissed or flattered. He decided on the latter with reservations. "You know if we're going to get through this without everyone in the world knowing about us, we've got to be a little more careful."

"I doubt Debbie is going to rush out and announce it, Ray."

"Well, no, probably not, but if she can work it out, what do you think a room full of cops will do?"

Fraser tugged on his ear nervously. "Your point is well taken, though I must confess I find it difficult to hide my feelings about you, especially now that I know that the affection is returned."

Ray touched the hand down by his side. "It's more than affection, Fraser."

Fraser squeezed Ray's hand in return. "Understood."

Ray closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he reluctantly released Fraser's hand. "So, I guess handholding in public is probably not a good idea, either, huh?"

"Unfortunately, I have to agree."

"Okay, okay, let's focus on getting done here. The jacket's great, but let's see if they've got anything heavier."

"I've already checked, Ray, and there's nothing even close to what we need here."

"Well, hell, I can't complain. We made a great haul. I'll have to come back when I want summer stuff."

"Indeed. They have quite a diverse selection as the seasons change."

"I guess we should check out then." As he walked a few steps, Ray stopped. "Oh, that's nice. Look at this." Ray held up a blue wool, cable knit sweater that not only looked handmade, but almost new.

"It matches your eyes, Ray. It's lovely."

"Yeah, I like it, and damn, it's only $15. Jesus, I can't believe these prices. Let's see if they've got some turtlenecks and we'll be done for the day." Fraser paused, his face suddenly serious. He remained silent as Ray quickly found three cotton turtlenecks to wear under his sweater, blue, grey, and black. Ray turned. "That should do it."

"I've rarely seen you wear turtlenecks, Ray."

Self-consciously, Ray fingered the scar at his throat. "Never really needed to."

"You don't need to now."

"It's a good deal on the shirts. Forget about it. Let's just go home."

"As you wish."

Ray gritted his teeth, knowing that tone too well, that tone that said Fraser needed to talk more even if Ray had no desire to hear it.

Ray dropped to the sofa, the floor and table littered with the shopping bags. "I don't know how women do this shit."

"Do what, Ray?"

"Shop. No wonder they talk about shopping till you fucking drop."

"Perhaps you should lie down and rest."

Closing his eyes, Ray let his head drop back. "Might sack out right here. I'm too tired to move. God, I'm out of shape."

A pillow and blanket appeared out of nowhere. "Stretch out. I'll take Dief for a short walk before I sort through the purchases and start supper."

Following orders, Ray allowed Fraser to help him take off his boots and then lie down on the sofa, relaxing, getting warm again. Eyes still shut, he listened to the rustle of bags and the quiet movements of his partner as he left with the wolf.

Rolling on his back, he opened his eyes to stare morosely at the ceiling. Suddenly tense, he sat up and rubbed his face. Being alone made him uneasy, almost anxious. He banged his forehead with his cast. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Ray took a deep breath and pushed away the creepy thoughts pushing in from all around, Clooney's face, the pain, the blood. Gulping down his own panic, he stood up and went to the kitchen. He ran the cold water and splashed his face, his stubble burning his fingers. The fear edged back a little as he focused on Fraser, made himself think about his lover's return, his strong arms, his warm voice. He needed all that, wanted it now, but forced himself to wait, to not run out in the street and make a big fool of himself hunting down Fraser. After a few moments, he managed to sit down at the table without shaking too badly. He held himself tightly and gritted his teeth as he waited, hoping like hell Dief wouldn't take fucking forever to do what he had to do. Damn wolf played too fucking much.

After a little while, he heard a whisper outside the door. "Now don't be unreasonable. You know you always enjoy staying with Francesca. And now that she has Ante..." A yip interrupted. "What? No, it's only two weeks, and, yes, I know it'll be Christmas, but that can't be helped." A short whine overlapped the sound of the key in the lock. "Yes, of course, I'll bring you back some pemmican."

As Fraser entered, he stopped and stared at Ray still seated at the table. "Ray? I thought you were going to rest. Are you all right?"

"Fine. You been talking to Dief in public the whole time you were gone?"

Slipping the key in his pocket, he closed the door and Dief headed to the table, nosing his face against Ray's leg. Ray petted the thick fur as Fraser removed his coat and hat and put them in the closet. "I was trying to explain to him why it's not feasible for him to go with us to Canada, but being a wolf, he does tend to be a bit stubborn."

Ray smiled and let the wolf lick his face a few times before he pushed him away. Reluctantly, the wolf stopped, but instead of moving to the living room, he settled at his feet under the table. Fraser frowned as he came to the kitchen and filled the pot to boil some water. "Are you sure you're not ill? You look pale."

Shrugging, Ray took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Took me a minute, but I'm okay. I just got a little panicky, that's all. At least I didn't end up buck naked and checking for blood this time."

Fraser sat beside him, his face concerned. "What happened?"

"Seems like every time I get a free minute, my mind gets a mind of its own. Spooky shit comes out of nowhere. But I didn't let it get to me this time. I didn't forget where I was, didn't lose my place and get all wacky." Ray lifted his eyes to Fraser's. "I just thought about you and it wasn't as scary."

"We overdid it this afternoon. I should've brought you home sooner."

"No, I'm okay, Fraser. Honest. Didn't you get the part when I said I didn't freak out?"

Fraser paused, licking his lower lip as he studied Ray's face as if searching for clues or deception. "I'm sorry. I just worry."

"I know." Ray sat back, sighing, his whole body complaining at once. "I'm really tired. Think I'll sleep for a little while."

"You should take your medication first."

"Anybody ever told you, you should've been a nurse?"

Fraser fetched the pills, his face solemn and his tone deadly serious. "Actually, I'd rather someone kick me in the head."

Ray chuckled. "I hear that."

Handing him the medicine, Fraser got him a glass of water before he sat down again. "Ray, I didn't mean to suggest that I mind taking care of you."

Ray took his pills and gulped down all the water before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I know that, Fraser."

"It's just that being a nurse or any other medical professional takes a kind of patience and resilience I doubt I could muster for a lifetime commitment."

"So, you'd rather chase scumbags and get shot at than empty bedpans and clean up puke? Gee, why doesn't that surprise me? Join the club. I'd rather get a bullet to the skull than deal with sick people all day. Hell, I don't even like dealing with me when I'm sick. I'd be fired before I even got started."

"Oh, I doubt that. I think you'd do very well as a nurse or any other job you chose to do."

Ray shook his head, suddenly even more exhausted and a little dizzy. "Thanks, but no thanks. Nursing ain't my thing, never will be. If I never see another hospital or doctor, it'll be too soon." He stood up slowly, bracing himself against the table, careful not to step on Dief. "Look, I'll get some shut eye and then we'll talk about whether we really want to leave Dief at the Vecchios over Christmas."

"Ray, even without quarantine requirements, he’d have to be in a crate from 12 to 48 hours, depending on flight delays for bad weather. While pressurized, the baggage compartment is dark and not very comfortable."

"I don't suppose you could pull some Mountie strings so he could ride with us or something?"

"No, Ray, I'm sorry."

Ray glanced down at Dief who watched them both with big, sad wolfie eyes. "Sorry, buddy, but he's right. You're better off whooping it up with Ante than coming with us this time. Maybe in the spring."

"Don't make promises, Ray. We don't know how long we'll get to stay then."

"I know, I know. I just hate thinking about leaving him behind."

"He'll be fine. He'll complain like always, but he'll be petted and treated better than when he's with us. You know how Francesca dotes on him."

"And how he's a dolt around Frannie."

"That, too."

Dief barked in protest.

"Sorry, boy, but you know it's true. If you were human, you'd go after her like nobody's business." Ray laughed to himself.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about how it's weird him being a straight wolf and we're both, well, you know." Fraser's lip quivered as he fought down a smile. "What? Please don't tell me the wolf swings both ways, too."

"Then I guess I shouldn't mention that one dog up in Whitehorse."

"Oh, God, Dief, Dief, I don't want to think about it."

Fraser piped in. "Well, he was a fine husky male, the leader of a champion sled team."

"Nobody said the wolf didn't have taste."

"I should hope not."

Ray scratched his head, the humor fading. "Sorry, but I've got to sack out. I feel like someone's punching bag all of a sudden."

"Then go lie down. I'll wake you for supper in a few hours."

"You think it'll take a couple of hours to cook?"

"No, I need to do laundry, too."

Even more tired thinking about Fraser working so hard, Ray shook his head as he walked toward the bedroom. "You know where to find me."

Fraser smiled warmly. "Indeed, I do."

Ray woke up slowly and rolled over, his body still achy and hung over from so much activity earlier in the day. He groaned as he sat up and slipped his legs off the side of the bed, his thigh complaining. He rubbed the muscle around it to lessen the pain and then stood up. Suddenly dizzy, he sat back down again quickly, holding his head. He waited a few moments for the faintness to pass before trying again. As he walked out of the bedroom, he saw Fraser standing there ironing his new clothes, all now pressed and either folded or hanging up. "There you go, Fraser, ironing again. What's with that?"

Fraser glanced up and finished the collar on his grey flannel shirt. "It's a pleasure to use such a fine appliance." He zapped the shirt with a quick hiss of steam. "I grew up having to heat the iron on the stove, and at the Consulate they only have the most rudimentary of irons available for personal use. This is so much easier."

"You're kidding, right? You like ironing?"

"I find it very restful."

"Restful?"

"Yes. It gives me time to think."

"Think? Think about what?"

"Many things." As Fraser put the shirt on a hanger, he studied Ray. "I've made some bark tea."

"I'd rather have coffee."

"I know, but it's after eight and you don't really need the caffeine."

Ray ran a hand over his head and then sat down at the table. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?"

"You needed it. I'll have dinner served in just a few moments. Would you like the tea or something else?"

"Just give me some water."

"What about some milk?"

Ray closed his eyes, his temper rising. "Why bother to ask me if you're going to keep offering other stuff?"

"I'm sorry."

The hurt tone kicked him in the gut. "No, Fraser, I'm sorry. Here you are out here slaving away to make things better for me and I'm being an ass."

"You're just a little irritable. That's to be expected."

"You don't have to be so fucking understanding all the time. You could just smack me or something when I get a smart mouth. How the hell can you put up with my shit without even getting just a little pissed off?"

Fraser stood there, his voice quiet. "Because I love you."

"That doesn't mean you have to take shit, Fraser. I love you, too, but I tell you when you do stuff that makes me crazy. I just need to do it without being such an asshole about it."

Fraser paused and then nodded as he stepped to the oven. "Yes, that would be appreciated, Ray."

"So, you think I'm a prick, huh?"

Using oven mitts, Fraser took out the casserole and put it on the trivet at the table. He talked softly as he worked to serve the meal. "You know, Ray, your language is your own choice, but why do you continue to use profanity when you know it bothers me?"

Ray pulled back, surprised. "Well, fuck, Fraser." He stopped and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I guess it's just habit. I was good before, well, before you know, and I guess I just stopped worrying about it. I'll try to do better. I know you don't like it when I cuss."

Fraser got the salad from the refrigerator and sat down at his place at the table. "I'd appreciate that, Ray. I know it's difficult for you. It's part of your culture, but sometimes it can be rather offensive."

Reluctantly, Ray agreed that his bad mouth needed reining in. "I'll try, Fraser. That's all I can promise." As soon as Fraser finished spooning out the lasagna, he leaned over a little. "Can I still talk dirty sometimes though?"

Fraser dropped the spoon and flushed red, but smiled as he teased back. "You're incorrigible, Ray."

"If that means I'm a bad influence, well, yeah, no argument there. So, can I still talk dirty?"

"During intimate occasions, yes, I'd have no argument with that."

Ray picked up his water glass in a toast. "Okay, here's to me turning over a new leaf, or tongue, as the case might be."

Fraser tapped his own water glass with Ray's. "Thank you."

"Good, now what kind of dressing do we have?"

"I made some fresh ranch, or there's some bottled Thousand Island."

"Ranch it is." Fraser handed him the dressing and then proceeded to eat his salad along with his meal. Ray picked at his food a while and managed a few bites before he leaned forward and asked, "So, what else is bugging you besides the language and me flying off the handle and being a bastard sometimes?"

Fraser glanced up, but then put his fork down and wiped his mouth. "I can't really say there's anything in particular that's bugging me, Ray, at least nothing intentional."

"Nothing intentional? What's that mean? I'm doing something unintentional that bothers you?"

"You're not eating."

"I'm eating." Ray stabbed at the pasta and put a big bite in his mouth. He chewed and then swallowed, making a big show of his efforts. "See?"

"Ray, you know what I mean. I know you've never had a big appetite, but now it's essential for your health that you get proper nourishment. I don't think it's anything you do on purpose, but if you want me to be honest, that's what's worrying me."

"You think I'm too skinny? Well, hell, Fraser, I've always been skinny. I told you that. Ever since I was a kid I've had to eat twice as much as anybody else just to keep up. It's not something I can do anything about."

"I understand that, Ray, but you're not an ignorant man. You've heard the doctors say you need to eat more to get well."

Ray tensed, suddenly more defensive. "I'm doing the best I can."

Fraser voice stayed very soft, very calm. "I'm not saying you're not, Ray. I'm just concerned. I've tried very hard to go out of my way to make dishes that will help with the weight gain, but I can only do so much. I can't force feed you and make you drink the supplements. That's all up to you."

"You think I'm just being stubborn?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

"I don't mean to be. I'm just not hungry."

"I understand that, Ray, I do. I remember times in my own life when depression robbed me of my appetite as well, but as an officer in the service, I knew I had to maintain my health."

"You've got a lot of discipline, Fraser."

"As do you."

Ray snorted and shook his head. "Come on, I know you love me, but you're not blind. Discipline isn't something that comes easy for me."

"You're wrong, Ray. You can't be the fine officer you are and not have the self-discipline I've seen first hand. You couldn't box or work out the way you do, if you didn't care about your body and your health."

"I do those things because I have to."

Fraser sat back, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"I box, dance, work out, all that stuff because it takes me out of my head. It's got nothing to do with discipline. It's about survival."

"And I think that's my point. You need to eat to survive."

Ray closed his eyes briefly, reluctantly accepting the truth and power of his partner's words. "You're right."

"Does that mean you'll at least try to make more of an effort to eat better?"

"Sure. I guess. I'll give it a try."

"That certainly relieves some of my worry, Ray."

Without answering, Ray turned his attention back to the meal. He ate slowly, but managed to eat most of the pasta and salad. He couldn't, however, eat any cheesecake. "Enough. Another bite and I'll throw up."

Fraser stood to clear the table, but stopped. He walked around the table to stand beside Ray and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

"I really don't want to worry you."

"I know."

"All I can do is try."

"And I appreciate it." After another quick kiss, Fraser ran the water for the dishes.

Ray got up and helped, wrapping the leftovers and putting them away. After a few moments, he whispered, "Is that really all you want, Fraser, for me to eat and not cuss?"

Fraser stopped working and turned around to face him. "A better question might be what do you want from me?"

"I've got everything I need from you. You love me and take care of me. What more could I want?"

"More trust."

"Trust? Are you saying you don't trust me?"

"I have trouble trusting anyone, Ray. It's not you."

"That's bull and you know it. I trust you, but you're saying you don't trust me? How does that work? How can you love me and not trust me?"

Fraser kept his voice steady, not rising to meet Ray's anger. "I love you more than life, Ray. Please, don't ever question that."

"Then why don't you trust me?"

"I do, mostly."

"There you go again, with the mostly stuff, never completely."

"I think you know the answer, Ray."

"Fuck." Ray shook his head defiantly, and didn't apologize for the profanity. Instead, he swallowed hard and tried to put himself in Fraser's position, tried to get into his head like he'd done before. "So, you can't trust me because you got messed over by Victoria and that Bullweather guy?"

"I want to trust you completely, Ray. That's one of the reasons I'm seeing Dr. Reese."

"You can talk to him about it, but not me?"

"I find your easy temper difficult to deal with at times. I need to be able to say what I'm feeling without fear that you'll take it personally or get angry."

"Take it personally? Why the hell should I do that, just because the man I love doesn't fucking trust me? Damn it, Fraser, this sucks."

"I know, Ray. I'm sorry."

"And don't fucking apologize. Jesus. I hate it when you do that. You feel like you feel. And in my head, I know it's not about me, I know that. I just hate knowing that you don't trust me even when I know why."

"Please, don't be angry, Ray. I do love you and trust you more than anyone else, even more than myself."

Stepping closer, Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser and pulled him close. "Sorry about the language, but you gave me a right hook out of nowhere. I wasn't thinking." He controlled his voice as he hugged Fraser and rested his head on his shoulder. "You got issues, I got issues, we both need shrinks."

Fraser chuckled as he returned the embrace. "And yet overall, we're both fairly well-adjusted considering."

"Considering we're both fucked."

"Indeed."

Lying together in bed, Ray relaxed against Fraser, his fingers slowly petting and stroking the arm that held him. "So, when do you see Reese again?"

The arm tensed slightly. "Not until we come back from Canada."

"Why so long?"

"It was difficult to work in another appointment before we left."

Ray nuzzled up against him, closing his eyes. "You going to be okay until then?"

"I'll be fine, Ray. I've been dealing with a lot of these problems for a long time. A few more weeks won't make much difference. In addition, I'm doing what Dr. Reese suggested about the journal and other exercises."

"What other exercises?"

"He suggested I write down a list of goals and expectations both about the therapy and about my relationship with you."

"He did, huh? Anything else?" Fraser hesitated and cleared his throat. Ray lifted his head and looked at his suddenly nervous partner. "What?"

"Well, it's rather personal, and I have to admit that of the things he told me to try, I'm having the most difficulty in managing it."

Ray stroked his cheek gently, his voice more soft. "What?"

"He wanted me to look in the mirror each day and say at least five things I like about myself that have nothing to do with my profession. I have to confess, I'm having trouble coming up with even one or two."

Shaking his head, Ray lay back against Fraser. "He expects you to talk to yourself about yourself? That's weird."

"I believe it's about making self affirmations as a form of positive reinforcement. It's part of the general belief that in behavior modification techniques, one must rewrite one's personal script to change one’s self perception. It's not enough to think about it, but one must make a conscious and vocal effort to change what one's been trained to think before."

"So, basically, you're supposed to talk yourself out of feeling down on yourself."

"Basically, yes."

"And you're having trouble because?"

"I'm not sure."

"Come on, Fraser. Tell me. You're bound to know why it makes you sweat."

"I never said it made me sweat. It just makes me very uncomfortable."

"You've got no problem talking to a deaf wolf and a dead guy. Why is this different?"

"Perhaps you should try it yourself and see how easy it is."

The tone came out snippy and Ray pulled away. Sitting up, he leaned back against his pillows. "Just tell me to butt out, Fraser. You don't have to get pissed."

"I'm not."

"Sounds like it. Sounds like this thing hits a nerve. What? You having trouble coming up with five things you like about yourself?"

"Can you come up with five things you like about yourself?"

"Good point, but we're not talking about me."

"Of course not, that would be too much to expect, Mr. Independence. You can tell me I'm being silly, but you won't even attempt to open yourself up to a therapist. I am trying, Ray, but it's difficult."

Eyes narrowed. "First of all, I never said you were being silly. Those words did not come out of my mouth, so just forget about it. As for being Mr. Independence, that's a crock and you know it. I need you, need you more than I want to need you sometimes. Most of all, I think it's great that you're trying to get better, but if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. If you think it's none of my business, just say so, and I'll shut up about it. I just thought I might be able to help. I mean, I can think of plenty of good stuff about you that's got nothing to do with you being a Mountie."

Fraser's posture relaxed and he eased in closer to Ray, putting his head on his chest, his breath warm against Ray's skin. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that I thought my therapy was none of your concern. I'll try to answer any question you have. It's just that most things come easily to me, but I've found this kind of self-examination to be somewhat of a trial, far more than I expected. I didn't mean to take that anxiety out on you."

Ray held him and fingered his hair as Fraser pulled the covers up over them. "It's okay. It's scary stuff. I get that." He paused. "So, what did you come up with for your list so far?"

"I love Ray."

"That's on your list?"

"It's the best thing about me."

"You're a nut, you know that?"

"I don't think it's crazy to love you, Ray."

"No, no, you wouldn't, and you're damn good at it."

"Thank you kindly."

"So, what else?"

"I stalled after that."

"What about being kind?"

"I'm not always as kind as I should be."

Ray shook his head, wanting to meet up with all the thoughtless shits who made Fraser so incredibly down on himself. "You're the kindest person I've ever met, Fraser. You're even nice to the scumbags."

"That's merely being polite."

"Well, add it to the list, because you're polite as hell."

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing, Ray?"

"I'm not, it's just not my thing. I mean, I've been trying harder, but it's not as easy as it looks."

Fraser chuckled. "Yes, it does sometimes take practice."

"Add it to the list then. Plus, you're a great lover."

Turning dark red, Fraser protested, "I can't say that."

"Why not? It's true. You give the best blowjobs in the world."

"Well, Ray, that's not exactly something one could prove with such a limited sample."

Ray hugged him harder and kissed the top of his head. "You're the only sample I need. Add it to the list."

"I have to say the list for Dr. Reese. I don't think I'd be comfortable."

"Then have a public and private list, one for him and one for us."

"That might be possible."

"Okay, good, good, also you can add generous. You'd give your coat off your back to someone who needed it. Hell, I've seen you do it."

"That's just being a charitable person, Ray."

"Yeah, but that's a good thing, so add it to the damn list along with being a good provider. I mean, you cook and clean and take care of me like I've never been cared for. Plus, you're honest. You tell the truth even when it hurts like hell and that's not easy. You've got a good heart, too, and you love animals and children and old people. You'd give up your life to catch a litterbug. Oh, oh, and you're smart, too. I never knew anybody who knows all the stuff you know. It's pretty amazing. I think you'd make a great teacher. And you're tolerant, Fraser. You respect people and their different cultures and choices. I mean, how can you have trouble thinking of just five good things when there are a ton of good things to choose from?"

"I suppose because I don't always see myself as you see me, Ray. And thank you."

Ray sighed and held him closer. "You're welcome. You know, if I could meet up with the people who did this to you, you know I'd kick'em in the head for you, right?"

"No one did anything, Ray."

"Fraser, I think that's what they call denial. I was in therapy long enough to get that much."

"Possibly, but I can't blame other people for my own shortcomings. I'm an adult and, therefore, responsible for my own feelings and behaviors."

"To a point, that's true, but face it, we're all products of our upbringing. Sure we can break the patterns, like the homophobia stuff with my Dad, but that doesn't mean we're free and clear of all that baggage piled on along the way, and, Fraser, my friend, you have a shit load of baggage."

"No more than you, I fear."

"Yeah, I know. Stella."

"And Clooney."

Ray closed his eyes, his throat tight. "Anyway, now we've got each other and it's bound to get easier, right? Please tell me it gets easier, Fraser."

"It gets easier, Ray."

"That the truth?"

"As I see it, yes."

Ray slipped down further under the covers, holding Fraser as close as he could, his whole body warm with the contact. "Good enough for me. Let's get some sleep and you can do that taking to the mirror thing first thing in the morning."

"I'm supposed to do that by myself, Ray."

"I know, I know. I'll just be there in case you need a little nudge."

"A nudge from time to time is greatly appreciated."

"I nudge, you nudge, we'll get through this stuff together, partners, a duet, a team, you and me. Got that?"

"Yes, Ray, partners."

"You bet."

"No need when it's a sure thing."

Ray picked at the band-aid on the inside of his right elbow as he waited for Dr. Barnes. He scanned the room but already had the place memorized, every chart, stupid poster, and tiny crack in the wall. He could pick it out of a line up, no problem. Patience worn thin, he sighed again as he dangled his legs off the exam table. A shuffle at the outside of the door alerted him and he sat up straighter, putting on his best game face, hoping like hell the doctor had good news for a change.

Dr. Barnes walked in, scanning the notes on the chart and the lab results. "Morning, Ray."

"Doc."

"I'm happy to say your white cell count is almost back to normal. Finish that round of antibiotic and that should do it as far as the infection goes."

"That's good news, then."

"It's excellent news. And I'm pleased to see you haven't lost more weight." Barnes put the chart down and began examining the outside of Ray's throat and then listened to his heart and lungs. He took his blood pressure again even though the nurse took it earlier. When he finished, he nodded, but didn't look that happy. "Heart and lungs sound good, but your blood pressure's a little low. That's new."

"I thought low was good."

"Depends on how low it is. Have you had any sudden weakness or dizziness?"

"Not really."

"What does that mean, not really?"

"Well, when I first get up, I sometimes get dizzy, but I figured that's just all this stuff I'm taking."

"You could be right. Did you stop taking the Percocet in combination with the Phenergan like I asked you to?

Ray thought about lying, but decided against being stupid for the moment. He didn't look up, but just shrugged. "No, I still take it when I need it."

"Then that could account for the low blood pressure. I'd like you to stop the Percocet until you finish the antibiotic and Phenergan. It's important, Ray. I'll give you a prescription for Motrin, instead. That should relieve any discomfort without lowering your pressure."

"Sure, okay, whatever. So, can I go now?"

Barnes shook his head as he put on latex gloves. "Not quite. I need to check your thigh and other wounds."

"Right, right, knock yourself out."

Barnes pushed apart Ray's thighs and slowly peeled back the bandage. He frowned as he pushed around the outer edges of the wound area. "Have you noticed any swelling or discomfort, any discharge?"

"Some twinges every now and then. It's better than it was, not as red."

"Uhm."

"What's that mean, uhm?"

"It means I'm disappointed that this isn't healing faster. You might think it's better, but not as much as it should be."

"That mean more antibiotic cream?"

"Yes, and you'll need to keep it bandaged a while longer."

Ray fought down his urge to say fuck and bit his lower lip. "How much longer?"

"I can't really say. It should be healed by now."

"How come it's not?"

Barnes cleaned and prepared his leg before applying a new bandage as he talked. "Location, size, any number of reasons. It's taking a little longer than expected to heal, but I've seen worse. Deep leg wounds can be stubborn. Give it more time. You just need to rest, eat more, and take your medications."

"And the leg will be okay?"

"It should be, in time. Just avoid overdoing it, no hiking or long walks. I'm not saying no exercise, but just be reasonable. The more you do with that leg, the longer it'll take to heal."

"But it's okay for me to go to Canada on Saturday, right?"

Barnes replaced his gloves with new ones and then proceeded to inspect each of Ray's wounds on his shoulder, back, and belly. "You know what I think about that, Ray, but it's up to you. I suppose as long as you're careful, it should be fairly safe. Just be sure to pick up the file I had copied to take with you before you leave in case of an emergency."

"Sure, I can do that. Can I go now?"

"In a few minutes. I need to ask about a few more things."

Ray didn't like the sound of that one bit. "What things?"

"Your red blood cell count is still a little low. Are you taking the iron tablets I prescribed?"

"Yeah."

"Had any bleeding with your stools?"

"No." Jeez, he hated talking about that. "I told you before, I'm going fine, no problem, just a little sore."

"I'm still worried about the low iron. Just keep taking the supplements and when you get back from Canada, I want you in here to check again. If it's still low, we need to find out why."

"And how do we do that?"

"More tests."

Fuck. "But I feel fine."

Barnes crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "You're better, Ray, much better, but you're not quite fine yet. Take your vacation, but I want to see you again within a few days of your return. I hope to see a huge improvement, and a weight gain would be nice, too."

"You want a bow on that for Christmas?"

"I'm Jewish, so that won't be necessary. It's a nice thought though, thanks. No, Ray, what I want from you is for you to use common sense so you can recover. When you go to Canada, just get cozy and rest."

"I plan to."

"No dogsleds or snowshoe races then?"

"None that I know of, no."

"Good. Any questions or problems I should know about before you leave?"

"No. Can I go now?"

"You can go now." Barnes paused and smiled. "Have a good time, Ray. Just be careful."

"Thanks, I will."

As soon as Barnes left, Ray hopped off the table and almost ended up face down on the floor. He grabbed the nearby stool and sat down, cursing under his breath as he waited for the dizziness to pass. After a few moments, he grabbed his jeans and slipped them on quickly. Then he put on his boots and black turtleneck, before snatching his leather jacket from the rack.

At the check out, the nurse handed him a packet and his new prescription. "Dr. Barnes wants you to make an appointment."

"Think I'll wait until I get back from Canada."

"You might want to go ahead and set it up now, Detective. You need to get the lab work before your appointment. It's easier to arrange those things if we do them together now."

Glancing over at Fraser in the waiting room, Ray nodded as he ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay." He made the appointment, handed her the co-payment for his visit, and then headed out to pick up Fraser. On the way out, he waited impatiently for Fraser to finish explaining an Inuit tradition to the little boy and woman next to him.

Fraser stood and put on his hat, tipping it with a short farewell before he headed over to Ray. His deep blue eyes searched Ray's face with concern. "I hope things went well."

"Yeah, yeah, Fraser, fine and dandy. Let's get out of this place."

"Certainly."

Outside in the corridor, Ray hit the elevator button, not once, but three times. When he went for a fourth, Fraser turned and whispered, "Ray, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just don't like this place. Gives me the creeps, almost as much as the hospital."

"Abusing the button won't make the elevator come any faster."

Ray pushed it again for good measure. "I know that. It's just easier to do than stand around waiting. You know I hate waiting."

"Oh, yes, Ray, I'm well aware of your impatience."

"It's not like I can help it. I hate wasting time. I hate that I have to keep coming back here. I'm fine. The guy gets on my nerves making me come back when I shouldn't have to."

The elevator pinged and they got on, Fraser staring at Ray for a few moments, before he asked again, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Quit asking."

"Ray..."

"Fraser, I said quit it. I mean it."

"Understood." The quiet lasted until the got out on the first floor and they were halfway to the car. "Ray, did Dr. Barnes do something to upset you?"

Sighing deeply, Ray kept walking, his head pounding. "Nothing happened, Fraser. I'm just tired. Let's go get something to eat and some coffee. Then we can go pick up some stuff for the trip. You know we're leaving Saturday."

Reaching the car, Fraser unlocked Ray's door and then walked around to his side. "I picked up the tickets yesterday, Ray. I know very well when we're leaving."

"Good, Fraser, that's good."

Ray got in the car and slammed the door. He crossed his arms, wishing he could drive and peel out down to the highway. A fast drive alone would clear his head. Speed and a long road, that would make it all better, more focused without all the shit piling in on him for no good reason.

"Ray?"

Ray closed his eyes, his body all jumpy from the inside out. "What?"

"Where would you like to eat?"

"I don't care. You pick."

"Why don't we just go home and I'll fix you something there?"

"Sure, fine, whatever. Let's just go." He rubbed his forehead and kept his eyes shut.

A hand touched his cheek and he jerked away, shaking, his head hitting the window. "Fuck. Don't do that."

Looking wounded, Fraser pulled back his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry, sorry, I wasn't expecting it." Ray shook his head, pushing back all the bad memories rushing in, the sudden image of another hand touching him. He shivered and cleared his throat, a deep chill settling in his chest. "I'm sorry, Fraser, I really am. I just wasn't ready."

"No, Ray, I'm sorry. I could see you were upset. I wasn't thinking."

"I was upset, but it's got nothing to do with you. I'm just feeling hemmed in. I didn't mean to jump like that. It just scared me for a minute."

"I know, Ray. I'll be more careful."

Suddenly angry, Ray hit the dash. "You shouldn't have to be more careful, Fraser. It's not fair, it's not right, and it sure as hell ain't normal."

"It's all right, Ray." Fraser touched his shoulder lightly and squeezed. "Calm down."

"What's wrong with me, Fraser? I'm a head case half the time. I like you touching me, always have, and here I am acting like you scalded me or something. And I get so pissed about nothing, irritated about stupid shit. I don't understand what's going on."

"Those are all symptoms of a bigger problem, Ray. I can get you some literature about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder if you think it would help."

Ray met worried blue eyes, his own gut clenched. "You think it might?"

"I think it might, yes. I think if you see that others often have similar reactions to trauma, it might make you feel less like a 'head case' as you call it."

"Okay, okay, then I guess I should read some." Ray paused, his voice strained. "I hate feeling so out of control here, Fraser, like I'm going to fly apart any minute. I feel stupid and angry and like I'm going out of my mind."

"Let's go home, Ray. You'll feel better once you've eaten and had some coffee."

"I'll feel better, but what about you? You're bound to be getting pretty sick of all this."

Fraser leaned over and kissed him briefly on the lips and pulled back, his voice a hush. "I love you, Ray. I'm sorry you're having problems, but I'll never be sick of being with you. That's one thing you never have to worry about."

Ray nodded and swallowed hard as Fraser started the car and slowly pulled out in traffic, horns from other cars honking in protest. Closing his eyes, Ray tried to relax as his partner drove the posted speed limits and made everyone else crazy for a change.

"You know, Fraser, if you ever decide to give up Mountie life, you could open up your own restaurant. People would flock from all over the place to get grub like this."

Fraser looked up from his homemade chicken soup and smiled. "Thank you kindly, Ray, but I don't see myself giving up the service. Though I must confess, I do enjoy cooking."

"I do, too, sometimes, on special occasions. It's kind of neat looking through cookbooks and trying to find just the right thing. Haven't had much time for it lately, not since, well, since Stell and I broke up, but still." Ray didn't finish the thought. He didn't want to think about all the uneaten meals he'd made for Stella, all the fights they'd had because she couldn't be bothered to show up on time, or call, or even come home some nights. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I just wanted to say this is pretty good soup."

"I'm glad you like it. Would you like another bowl? There's plenty."

"No, thanks, I'm full."

"More coffee?"

"Yeah, coffee would be good."

Fraser got up and served Ray coffee and himself more tea. After he settled back in his chair, he sighed. "You should just stay in the rest of the day, Ray. If we go out early tomorrow morning, that should give us plenty of time to buy the gear we need and then pack for the trip."

"What about Dief? Don't we need to take him over to Frannie's tomorrow?"

"She's going to take us to the airport Saturday morning. She'll get him then along with the keys so she can feed Turtle."

"Oh, okay. Then, yeah, if you want, that's fine. What do you want to do the rest of the day?"

"I thought perhaps you could rest while I run a few errands."

Tensing, Ray sat straighter, the thought of being left alone still a bit scary. "What kind of errands?"

"I need to stop by the Consulate and then I thought I'd see Lt. Welsh before we left."

"I could go with you."

Fraser frowned. "Ray, you should rest. The Consulate visit is merely to check on a few things with Turnbull before I leave. As for the station, are you sure you're ready to go there yet?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just think it might be, well, a bit premature."

"Premature? Why? You think I'm going to freak out or something if Dewey looks at me the wrong way? You think I'm going to start bawling or something?"

"Not at all, Ray. I'm just concerned that you might be uncomfortable at this stage."

"Why should I be uncomfortable, Fraser? Tell me that. You think I've got something to be uncomfortable about?" The words got increasingly angry as Ray stood and started pacing, his right hand running through his hair over and over. "You think I got something to be ashamed about?"

"Ray, please, calm down. I didn't mean anything like that."

"Then what the fuck did you mean?"

Fraser stood and stepped closer, but didn't touch him. "I'm sorry, Ray. I was just being overprotective. If you want to go with me, I'm more than happy for you to be there."

Nodding, trying to control his temper, Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser's middle. He swallowed several times before he could catch his breath and be honest. "I don't want to be alone here."

"Understood." Fraser pulled back and caressed his cheek. "Let me clean up the dishes and then we'll go."

"Sure, sure. I've got to go to the can. Be back in a minute."

As Fraser cleaned up the kitchen, Ray walked into the bathroom, closing the door and resting his forehead against the cool tile. He wasn't ready for the station, he knew that, but he couldn't stand the thought of being in the apartment alone all afternoon, either. He picked up his Percocet and took one along with the rest of his medicines. Sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited, waited for his heart to stop pounding so fast and the pressure to ease out of his body. He didn't want to act crazy, didn't want to make Fraser worry. It didn't seem to matter much what the fuck he wanted these days.

After a few minutes, he got up and went into the bedroom. He picked up his gun and strapped it on, the weight comforting under his left arm, the tug of the leather across his back almost soothing. He'd missed that feeling, the security, knowing that if he had to, he could defend himself, not take shit from anybody. Hand shaking, he pulled the gun and held it up, sighed deeply, and then holstered it. More confident, his muscles less tight, he headed back out to the living room.

"Yes, I know, I'm concerned as well."

"You two talking about me, Fraser?"

Fraser turned, eyed the gun, but didn't mention it. "Diefenbaker wants to go with us."

"Sure, and what are you two concerned about?"

"You should probably wear your sling. Your fingers are swelling."

Ray held up his cast and wiggled his fingers. "Not too bad. The sling hurts my neck. Besides, I haven't worn it for the last week, no problem."

"I just don't want there to be complications."

"You worry too much."

"And you don't worry enough sometimes."

Ray snorted as he opened the closet and handed Fraser his coat before getting his new leather jacket, the one Fraser altered for him last night. "You worry enough for both of us, so why bother?"

"Ray, you know that's not true. I just don't want you to be careless about your health."

"I know that, but let's just go out and do what we've got to do, okay? And if I still feel perky, I'd like to try to get some of that gear today. Just depends on how I'm feeling."

"We'll leave that option open. First, why don't we go to the post office? You need to stop the mail delivery while we're gone."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. What about the paper?"

"I called this morning."

Ray leaned in, kissing Fraser briefly. "You're good, Fraser. Stick around long enough, you might even get me organized."

Fraser whispered, "I plan to stick around a long time, Ray. I certainly hope you enjoy the changes that might entail."

"Oh, I already like a bunch of changes, thank you very much." Ray kissed him again, this time longer, his tongue probing in, Fraser's mouth soft and yielding against his own. Pulling back, Ray let out a long sigh. "Save that for later, buddy. We got things to do first."

"Right you are. We need to be practical."

"But not forever."

Fraser smiled. "No, Ray, not forever."

"Detective Vecchio, I'm so happy to see you."

Turnbull smiled that big, goofy grin of his and Ray nodded, warmed by his kind nature. "Good to see you, too, Turnbull. Thanks for the chocolate critters, by the way. They were great."

"You're very welcome. I'm quite gratified that you enjoyed them. What brings you and Constable Fraser to the Consulate today?"

Fraser stepped closer. "I wanted to speak with Inspector Thatcher."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. She stepped out. However, she should be back by 1300 hours. May I take a message?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll just write a note and leave it on her desk." He turned toward Ray. "Wait here. It won't take but a moment."

"Sure. No problem. Me and Turnbull here will shoot the breeze for a while, talk about curling or something."

"Curling, Ray?"

"Sure, bonspiels and eight-enders, men with brooms and stuff. You know, curling."

"Right you are." Fraser glanced over at Turnbull's rapt expression and shook his head. "Carry on then."

As he walked away, Ray focused on Turnbull. "So, what's been going on while Fraser's been away? Anything exciting?"

"I thought we were going to talk about curling, Detective."

"Call me Ray, and I just used up all the words I know about curling. Don't know anything else. We could talk about baseball if you want, but I'd rather know what's been happening around here. Any talk about Fraser being gone? Any problems with his taking leave I should know about?"

Turnbull's expression changed, his eyes suddenly sad, his face more serious than Ray could remember ever seeing before. "We all understand why he needed to take leave, Ray. Even Inspector Thatcher has been uncharacteristically supportive of his decision to be with you during your difficult..." Turnbull hesitated, his face darkening as he struggled to find the right word.

“Recovery?"

"Yes, your recovery." He cleared his throat, his voice tighter. "I can't tell you how upset Constable Fraser was while you were in the hospital. Perhaps I shouldn't say this, but he was beside himself with worry. Taking off and being with you seems to have made a huge difference. I, for one, am very glad to see your partnership working out so well."

Eyes stinging at the thought of a worried to death Fraser, Ray nodded. "Yeah, yeah, we're doing pretty good, the two of us." Pausing, Ray leaned in, his voice low. "Fraser might not say it, but I will. We appreciate your support with this whole partnership thing, you know, not the official partnership thing, but the new, unofficial partnership thing."

Turnbull's voice choked a little. "I'm very happy for you both, Ray. Constable Fraser's a very lucky man to find someone like you, someone so unique and vivacious. It's not easy to find someone compatible, regardless of gender."

"Unique and vivacious? That's how you see me?"

Blushing bright red, Turnbull didn't get a chance to answer. Fraser and Diefenbaker came back down the hallway and interrupted. "Ready to go, Ray?"

"Sure, sure, but I thought you said you needed to talk to Turnbull."

"Oh, yes." Fraser nodded and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out an envelope. "We wanted to give you this, Constable. We won't be here at Christmas and I thought you could use these in our stead."

Puzzled, Turnbull opened the envelope and pulled out two tickets. "Oh, my goodness. Thank you so much, sir." He shook his head in amazement. "How in the world did you manage? Clint Black's concert has been sold out for weeks."

Fraser tapped the side of his nose. "A friend of a friend. I was aware of your fondness for country music and I thought that you might enjoy the show. I do remember you singing his Christmas tunes last year."

"But, sir, I don't have anything for the two of you. I'm so sorry."

"Nonsense, Constable. We won't be able to use them and it would be a shame to waste such a handsome opportunity."

"Indeed, it would, sir. Thank you again. I don't know what to say."

Ray piped in. "Just say, Merry Christmas, Ray and Fraser."

Turnbull stood up straighter, his smile back in place just as it should be. "Merry Christmas, Ray and Constable Fraser, sir."

"Close enough." Ray patted him on the arm and then motioned to Dief and Fraser. "Come on. Pitter, patter, let's get at her."

They headed out to the car and as Ray let Dief climb in the back, he caught Fraser chuckling. "What?"

"Unique and vivacious, indeed."

"Mr. Bat Ears. What's wrong with unique and vivacious?"

"Not a thing, Ray. I think they're both quite apt descriptions. I just can't imagine Turnbull being bold enough to say them out loud."

"Hey, Turnbull's okay. He's just needs somebody. We all do. Nothin' wrong with that."

Fraser sobered. "No, Ray, there's nothing wrong with that."

Inside the car, Ray waited for Fraser to start the engine. "In fact, I know this guy, Jimmy Fuches, he might like to meet a Mountie."

"Ray, Ray, Ray, please tell me you're not thinking about playing matchmaker for Turnbull and this Mr. Fuches person."

"Why not? Turnbull would be a real catch for the right guy. I've got a ton of girls who'd love him, but since you told me that he's not into that, I'm a bit more limited. Still, I think Jimmy would like him."

Fraser started the car and pulled into traffic. He ignored the horns as he argued. "But, Ray, it's been my experience that matchmaking can be rather disastrous."

"Why? You ever done it?"

"No, but I remember on several occasions when others have tried and the results have been, shall we say, less than blissful."

"Then you just ain't had the right people. I'm telling you, Turnbull might like a little American blood and I know Jimmy's up for something different. Nothing quite fits the bill like dating a Canadian, especially a Mountie."

"Oh, really?" Stopped at a red light, Fraser looked over at his partner, amused. "Why is dating a Canadian so different, Ray?"

"You're kidding, right? Americans and Canadians, we might live on the same continent, but we ain't living in the same world most of the time and don't get me started on the overall freakishness of Mounties." Ray’s lips curled into a grin. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining, not a bit. Just thought I'd spread the joy a little."

Driving again, Fraser pondered the idea. "Perhaps I should meet this Mr. Fuches first."

"Why's that? You don't trust my judgment?"

"Not at all, but I do feel something akin to responsibility for Turnbull. I'd like to see if there's a potential for compatibility between them for myself."

Ray snorted and shook his head. "You're such a control freak."

"Now, Ray, there's no need to resort to name-calling."

"You are. Besides, meeting Jimmy won't help. At first glance, he's as weird in his own way as Turnbull. Get to know him and he's not so bad."

Fraser frowned. "And how well did you get to know him?"

Smirking, Ray looked over at Fraser. "Jealous much?"

"Not at all. I was just curious as to the nature of your relationship with Mr. Fuches. I don't recall you mentioning him before."

"Probably because I haven't. He a guy I met on an undercover."

"By a guy, do you mean he was another police officer?"

"Not exactly."

"What exactly?"

"He was the artist who was forging paintings for this counterfeiting ring I was after."

Fraser practically wrecked the car before he could pull it over to park. "You want to introduce Turnbull to a criminal? What in the world are you thinking?"

Looking all around at the heavy traffic, Ray complained in frustration. "What the hell was that, Fraser? We could've been killed, could've been rear ended. Frannie will kill us if we mess up this heap."

"Just answer the question."

"You're nuts."

"Ray..."

"Okay, okay." Ray took a deep breath and then explained before Fraser blew a gasket. "Sure, Jimmy faked paintings, but he's a damn good artist and he didn't know what they were doing with his stuff. He thought he was being commissioned to make reproductions, which is perfectly legal. Sure, we arrested him, but he wasn't charged and he testified against the guys who ran the ring."

"So how do you know he's homosexual?"

"Ah."

Fraser shook his head in frustration. "Ray..."

"Now you know how I feel. Doesn't feel so hot, does it?"

"You're being outrageously obstinate."

"Stubborn, too. Anyway, I found out because he made a pass at me."

Fraser's face darkened. "And?"

"And nothing." Ray reached out and took Fraser's hand. "I told you before, I didn't do anything with anyone except Stella and a few women I kissed. Jimmy's just a nice guy who liked me, that's all. He's kind of sweet and he's very talented. I saw those pictures Turnbull drew. They've at least got that in common. They could go to museums and exchange drawing tips or something."

Fraser pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and then stared directly at Ray, his voice hushed. "I'm sorry, Ray. I don't know what came over me."

"Green-eyed monster looked like."

"It's not a good feeling."

"No, but I get it, Fraser. It's just, you got nothing to be jealous of, not with Jimmy or Stella or anyone else." Blue eyes twinkled. "Though Turnbull sure is looking good in red these days."

Fraser shook his head and then released Ray's hand before starting the car again. "That's just cruel, Ray. You'd eat the man alive. He wouldn't last a day."

"Or night?"

"Not even close. Besides, you've got another man in uniform to contend with."

"Contend with, huh?"

"Oh, yes, contend with. After we finish at the station, I'll give you a demonstration."

"Hands on?"

Fraser's smile and the slight flick of his tongue wetting his lower lip answered that question.

There were two kinds of people, people who walked up and shook a guy's hand after he'd been seriously injured and came limping back around or the people who did anything but look his way. They filed reports, interviewed suspects, or slipped off to the break room for bad coffee and stale doughnuts, anything but meet his eyes and do a face-to-face. Of course, if they thought he wasn't looking, they'd chance a peek, checking out the signs, looking for scars and any outward evidence of his brush with death. Oh, yeah, there were two kinds of people and, therefore, two kinds of cops.

"Ray, it's good to see you." Huey shook his hand, gripping with both his own as he smiled. Meanwhile, Dewey headed the other way as fast as he could, off to get something to drink, something to keep his mind off the fact that it could've been him busted up just as easily as Ray.

"Hey, Huey. How's it hanging?"

"Heard you were up and about." Huey freed his hand and motioned toward Welsh's office. "He's been a bear the last few days. Maybe a visit from you will calm him down."

"Calm him down? Me? You've got to be kidding. More likely stir him up."

"Well, at least it'll give him someone else's ass to chew on." Huey checked out Ray's rear. "Scrawny as it is."

Ray snorted and motioned toward Huey's behind. "He must be full from the looks of yours. Been chewing regular looks like."

Fraser frowned, puzzled. "Ray, I'm not sure I follow."

"Never mind, Fraser."

"But..."

Huey laughed. "He's right, Fraser. Weak joke." His voice got lower, more serious. "Heard you were going to Canada with Fraser here. That true?"

God, Frannie had a big mouth. "Yeah, we're heading out Saturday."

Nodding, Huey considered the answer as he glanced first at Fraser and then Ray. "Okay, okay, do you mind if I ask you a personal question then?"

Ray steeled himself as Fraser stood straighter, prepared for the worst. "Depends. You can ask. Don't mean I got to answer if the question don't suit me."

"Sure, I understand. I just wondered why in the world you'd go to Canada this time of year. I mean, it's cold here in Chicago, but it's got to be a bitch up north right now. Wouldn't it be better to go later on, say spring or summer so you could enjoy the bears and moose and all those other things you think about when you think about Canada? I mean, no offense, Ray, but you look like a good puff of wind could blow you off your feet right about now."

Relieved that he hadn't been asked about sleeping with Fraser, Ray just shrugged and smiled. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, I've only been there once, but that was during a case so it doesn't count, and Fraser misses the place. It's only two weeks. How bad can it be?"

Fraser cleared his throat. Ray and Huey both turned his way. "Actually, it's going to be on average twenty to thirty degrees below zero Fahrenheit, with regular snowfall, and approximately two hours of daylight each day."

Ray piped in. "Which translates to it being damn cold and dark most days."

Huey shook his head in wonder. "Me, I go for warm and sunny. Sounds crazy to want to visit some place where you can freeze your lily white ass off."

Ray grinned. "Actually, Fraser's friend has this cabin where we're staying. We're just going to relax. It'll be nice to get away from the city, you know, just get away from doctors and shrinks and police shit for a while. Fraser can walk around and enjoy the scenery and I can sit around hogging the fireplace and hot chocolate."

Huey's dark eyes studied him for a moment and then he nodded as if he understood completely. "Hope it works out, Ray. You deserve some good down time."

Welsh's voice interrupted. "Detective Vecchio, Constable Fraser, at the moment I'm down two good officers. I'd appreciate it if you’d let the ones I do have get back to work." He made a point of looking directly at Huey. "Right, Detective?"

Huey nodded with a big smile as he picked up a folder. "Right you are, sir. Later, Ray, Fraser."

As soon as he left, Ray and Fraser headed to Welsh's office. Once inside, he shut the door. "Not that I'm not happy to see you both, but why are you two here when you should probably be packing for the big trip?"

Suddenly very tired after the parade of handshakes and how are you feelings, Ray settled on the couch and let Fraser take over. "Actually, sir, I was hoping you'd had a chance to finish that paperwork for Ray's insurance claims, both for the apartment and the car."

Ray frowned. "What paperwork, Fraser?"

"I asked the Lieutenant if he could expedite the situation with your claims, Ray. That way we could file the reports before we leave."

"You didn't say anything."

"It's all right, Detective." Welsh picked up a folder off his desk. "I wrote up the damages as the team found them and added copies of the photos from the scenes both for the property damage in the apartment and the car. It should help move the process along. I can give the agent a call if you'd like. Might mean you'd get your check sometime before summer."

"Thanks, Lieu. I didn't expect you to do that."

"What about the call?"

"Sure. I'd appreciate it."

"Good, no problem." Welsh sat back in his chair and put his hands together as he stared at Ray. "So, how are you feeling, really?"

"I'm doing better."

"Those guys out there give you a hard time before you got here?"

"Not really." The lie dragged across his tongue, sharp and painful.

Fraser cut in. "Most people were more than friendly, sir, but it's a lot to deal with after being away for so long. It can be rather overwhelming."

"I'm not overwhelmed, Fraser. Just tired." Tired of assholes making stupid ass comments they didn't think he could hear.

Welsh didn't need a picture. "People sometimes say stupid things when they're nervous. As a police officer, you've seen it a thousand time with suspects. It's not surprising police officers suffer the same sad condition. Seeing you again so soon out of the hospital, well, they were probably caught off guard."

"Yeah, well, can't say I blame them. I mean, I look in the mirror and get a shock every day."

Fraser stepped closer and sat down beside him, his hand on his arm. "Ray, you look fine."

"For one of Mort's corpses, maybe."

"That's not true. It's just a shock when they haven't seen you in so long. I'm sure they didn't mean to offend you. They're your friends."

"I know that, Fraser. I just have a hard time dealing with the looks."

"The looks?"

"You know, let him sit down before he falls down looks, not to mention the comments I'm not supposed to hear like, 'What the fuck's he doing out of bed?' and 'Christ, he looks like shit.' I know I look like shit. I don't have to hear it from my friends, okay?"

For once, Fraser didn't argue, but squeezed his arm. "No, Ray, you don't."

Welsh interrupted. "Don't take it too hard, Kowalski. They don't mean anything. People are never quite sure what to say to you even when you're having a good day. I suppose one might say they're respecting your usually volatile disposition by keeping a respectful distance."

Ray shook his head as he stood up. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have come in yet. I'm not ready."

"On that we agree." Welsh stood up and extended a hand. "Good luck on your vacation. We'll talk when you get back, make arrangements to get you back on the job."

"At a desk?"

"To start."

Ray took his hand and shook, the grip firm. "I guess that's to be expected."

"You pick a shrink yet?"

"Not yet. Can't decide on who to go to."

"Worry about it when you get back." Welsh held out his hand to Fraser and shook it. "Watch his back up there in the snow, Constable. Don't want him wandering off and getting lost."

"Understood."

As they headed to the door, Fraser's hand slipped to the small of his partner's back. Ray leaned in. "Stick close. I'd like to get out of the place without shooting anybody."

"Perhaps the use of a rear exit might be in order."

"Lead the way, McDonald."

"I believe that's McDuff, Ray."

"I knew that." More tired than ever, Ray managed a weak smile. "Just testing."

Fraser's voice softened as he led him to the back stairwell. "Let's go home, Ray."

"No argument from me." Gripping the rail, Ray missed a step, Fraser's arms just catching him before he ended up at the foot of the stairs. He sat down fast and put his head between his knees. "Shit."

"Ray, are you all right?"

"Just a little dizzy."

"Dizzy?"

"Yeah, it'll pass. I'm just tired." Fraser didn't answer, just rested a arm around his shoulders. Ray took several deep breaths and prayed no one saw them and put two and two together. He hated hiding, but he hated the idea of people knowing about them so soon even more. After a few moments, he raised his head. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For sucking."

"Sucking? I don't understand."

"I suck. I sucked with Stella and I suck with you. You deserve better."

"Now you're just being silly. You don't 'suck', as you put it."

"How do you know that? I suck in my head. I think shit, Fraser. I think sucky thoughts, that's what it means to suck."

Fraser's face got suddenly very serious. "What do you mean by sucky thoughts, Ray?"

"You're sitting here holding me and all I can think about is, I hope nobody sees us. Tell me that's not sucky."

Relaxing, Fraser hugged him and shook his head. "It's a practical worry, Ray, and nothing to be ashamed of. We both know that there would be repercussions if people found out about us."

Ray studied him a moment and then frowned. "What did you think I meant?"

"I'm n...not sure." The tell-tale stutter gave him away.

"Don't lie to me, Fraser. What did you think I meant?"

"I'm sorry, Ray, but I thought you might have been referring to something more self-destructive."

"Self-destructive? Self-destructive, like in hurting myself?"

"Something like that, yes."

"I told you I wouldn't do that."

"And I believe you."

"Obviously not."

"Ray, you're not the only one who can, on occasion, experience sucky thoughts."

"Yeah, that's true. Guess it's a little hard to get pissed at you about it, considering."

"Considering what?"

"Considering you've got reason to worry."

Fraser paused, his voice hushed as he nervously combed Ray's hair with his fingers. "Do I, Ray? Do I have reason to worry?"

Ray couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't face Fraser, so he stared down at his empty hands. "I'd never shoot myself, never do anything that deliberate. I just can't promise not to do something stupid. Sometimes stupid's all that shows up in my head."

"Ray, look at me."

"Don't want to."

"Ray, please." Swallowing hard, Ray finally did what Fraser asked and looked into concerned blue eyes. "Ray, I need to know what you mean. As much as I'd like to, I don't know what you're thinking when you say something like that. I don't understand. Make me understand."

"I don't know what I mean, either."

"I think you do. Tell me."

Sighing deeply, Ray forced his confession. "Dr. Barnes told me to stop taking the Percocet, but I didn't."

"I see."

"You going to ask why?"

"Actually, I was going to ask you when he told you to stop, today or the last appointment?"

Ray dropped his head again, unable to maintain eye contact. "Last time. He put his foot down this time though. Said my blood pressure was low."

"But you continued to take the medication against his advice."

"Like I said, I do stupid shit sometimes. I'm sorry."

"Well, that explains the dizziness."

"I guess." Ray waited and after a long silence, he asked, "You mad?"

"Do you plan to continue taking it?"

"Haven't decided."

"I suppose I should be grateful for your honesty."

"But are you mad?"

Fraser's hand gripped his chin and pulled his head up and around to face him. "I'm not angry, but I'm worried. I want you to stop. I think you want me to take the decision out of your hands, take the medication away. But I'm not going to do that. We both know that if you want the narcotic, you can get more. It has to be up to you."

"But..."

"No buts, Ray. Believe me, I know what you're going through on this. Every day I have to consciously decide to stay sober. What is it they say, one day at a time? That's exactly how I do it. I'm afraid you have to choose your own path just like I did. I can't do it for you."

Ray squeezed his eyes shut, the pain growing in his gut. "You know what it's like, how hard it is."

"Yes, I do."

"It just takes the edge off."

"I know that, too. In fact, I know just about any excuse you can manage. I've used them all myself. However, we both know they're bullshit."

Ray jerked his head up, surprised by Fraser's choice of words. "What?"

"Make any excuse you want, but that's all it is, an excuse, a pretext to keep using something that's not only not helping, but that could be leading to great harm."

Ray stood up, pulling Fraser to his feet. "I know that."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Quit, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Quit."

"Good."

Ray headed down the stairs, Fraser walking beside him. "It'll be okay. I mean, it's not like I'm addicted or anything."

"You'll be fine."

But Ray knew without even looking that Fraser didn't really believe that anymore than he did.

Ray sat on the edge of the bed, head down, his gun in his hand. He should clean it, oil it, basic stuff. Instead, he held it up and sighed, slipping it back in the holster under his left arm. Dief moved in closer and whined for attention. Wrapping his good arm around the wolf, Ray buried his face in the thick fur. The white coat smelled different than a dog's fur, more musky, richer, so familiar and comforting. He loved how soft and fuzzy it was against his skin. He wished like hell he could understand wolf speak like Fraser. Hell, he could talk to Fraser's dead dad, why not the wolf? It didn't make sense that he could do one and not the other.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"You're supposed to be resting. Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Not lifting his head or releasing Dief, Ray shrugged. "Too tired to sleep, too tired to get up."

Dief woofed a couple of times, but didn't pull away.

Fraser settled on the bed beside him, his hand palmed against Ray's back. "Diefenbaker's worried, Ray. He said you had your gun out. Is that true?"

"He's got a big mouth for a wolf."

Dief wiggled in his arms, but stayed put, letting Ray squeeze him a little harder to hide his tears. "Ray, tell me what's going on."

"I feel like shit, Fraser, like somebody should just shoot me and be done with it. I can't stop crying. All I can think about is drinking or taking something to make it stop. I suck."

"You don't suck, Ray." Fraser hesitated. "Would it bother you if I turned on the light?"

"Yeah, it would. I don't want you to see me like this."

"Is there something I can get you that might help, some coffee or chocolate?"

"Only if it's dosed with lots of scotch."

"Would you at least let me have your gun?"

Lifting his head, he finally released Diefenbaker as he sat back against the pillows on the bed. "I'm not going to shoot myself, Fraser. I just like having it nearby."

"Why?"

"It makes me feel safer." Ray held up a staying hand before Fraser could debate the point. "Look, I know it's crazy, irrational, get the butterfly net kind of thinking, but I can't help it. I just need to wear it right now, okay?"

"Okay." Fraser touched his leg, squeezing gently, his voice suddenly much softer. "Your mother called."

"Mum called?"

"She said she wanted to stop by before we left on Saturday."

"Fuck."

"I'm sorry, Ray. She sounded upset."

Oh, that wasn't good, not good at all. Ray sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed again. "She say anything else, like what she wanted?"

"No, she asked if it was okay to come over tonight, but I wasn't sure what you'd want to do. I asked her to call again."

"Good, good. Good call." Panic rose in his belly. "What the fuck could she want? You think something happened?"

"I have no idea, Ray. She didn't give any indication that anything had changed, just that she wanted to see you before we left."

"Before we left, huh? Oh, this sucks, Fraser. This is a bad sign." He reached over and turned on the light, to hell with the red and swollen eyes. It wouldn't be the first time Fraser saw what he looked like after he bawled like a fucking baby. "I don't know if I can deal with much more, Fraser, not right now, not when I'm feeling so, so, so..."

"Fraught?"

"Fraught?"

"Anxious, upset, burdened?"

"Right, right, fraught, that works. Jesus, what the hell could she want, and how the hell did she find out when we were leaving? Come to that, how'd she find out about us even going?"

"I would imagine that Stella informed her."

Ray paced the room at the foot of the bed, his arms wrapped around himself, all jumpy and wild inside. He didn't want to fight with his mum, not tonight or any night, but not when all he wanted to do was punch out a wall or curl up in a ball somewhere and forget about all the shit pouring in on him. He didn't need this right now, now from his own mother. Fuck, she could either accept him with Fraser or get the fuck out. Suddenly angry, he turned to Fraser. "If I see her now, I might say something really bad. Can you stall her until after we get back?"

"I don't think that's wise, Ray."

"Why not? It's better than me flying off the handle or her seeing me all strung out." He stopped, his voice strained. "I don't want her to see me like this, not like this, Fraser. She's my mum."

Fraser stood and took him in his arms. Ray trembled at the sturdy touch, his head spinning, his throat too tight to even swallow. "It's all right, Ray. She loves you. It might help to see her."

Closing his eyes, Ray rested his forehead on Fraser's broad shoulder. "It's not going to be good, Fraser. I can just feel it."

"You don't know that."

"You don't not know it."

"True, but she is your mother."

Sighing, Ray lifted his head. "Yeah, I know. Guess I should call. Don't suppose you'd do it for me, huh?"

"She said she would call back. I got the distinct impression that she didn't want either of us to call her at home."

"That means she's sneaking around behind Dad's back. Damn it." Ray pulled away and sagged down on the end of the bed. "I hate this, I mean really, truly hate this. I know what she's going to say."

"What's that?"

"She's going to beg me to break it off. Bet she thinks you're dragging her baby boy off to the Great White North and she's going to try to save my ass one last time. She did something like this when Stella and I were having problems." He lowered his head to his hands. "I so do not need this right now."

"She could just as easily be coming over to wish us support."

"Yeah, right. Trust me on this, Fraser, that is so not going to happen. I love my mum, but she's almost as set in her ways about gays as Dad is. She loves me, but she thinks I've gone off the deep end. She's going to try something. I just don't know what yet."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I wish there were something I could say to ease your mind about this."

"Just promise me you won't leave me."

Fraser sat down beside him and took his hand, his eyes sincere as ever. "You have my promise and my pledge, Ray. I'll never leave you."

Ray smiled, warmed by the words. "Thanks, that's sweet, Frase, but I was talking about something more immediate, more like tonight when she comes over. She's going to want you to leave while we talk. I want you to stay no matter what she says, okay?"

"Oh, I see. All right. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I don't think I'm strong enough to put up with her shit. She might say something really bad and I'll say something even worse and, well, you know it'll be like an escalator."

"You mean escalation?"

"Yeah, getting out of control real fast. I don't want that. With you here, I'll behave myself better even if I do get upset."

Fraser frowned. "Why are you so sure she's going to say something to upset you?"

"Because history repeats itself, especially in my family. I can see it coming. I just want to be ready."

"I hope you're wrong, Ray."

"Yeah, me, too, but I'm not going to hold my breath."

Ray paced in front of the sofa before he sagged down on it, dropping his face to his hands. His body shook, wanted to fly apart into a million jagged, little pieces. He couldn't sit still, not for any amount of money. Up again, he walked to the window, looked out, but didn't see the dirty streets or hear the hum of traffic. He paid no attention to the snow flurries or the hissing of the wind. Running his hand through his hair, he went over to the turtle tank. He switched on the light and the sleepy animal blinked, lifting its pointed head slowly. Ray didn't notice, just moved away and paced some more.

Fraser folded his paper. "Ray, would you like some tea to help settle your nerves?"

"Tea isn't a fucking cure all, Fraser. I can't drink tea and feel better, keep from feeling like I'm going to go nuts here."

Putting the paper on the table, Fraser stood up. "She's here, Ray. Try to calm down. Please."

"How do you know that?"

"I hear her on the stairs."

"That could be anybody."

"Anybody doesn't walk like your mother. Her step is quite distinctive."

"Damn. Think she'd catch us if we went out the back?"

"Ray..."

Crossing his arms, Ray took a deep breath to prepare himself for the confrontation. "Just kidding, just kidding. Let her in."

The knock came and Fraser stepped to the door to open it. "Mrs. Kowalski. It's good to see you again. Welcome to our home."

Ray stood in the middle of the room waiting, too tense to move closer. "Hi, Mum."

"Stanley."

"May I take your coat, Mrs. Kowalski?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Fraser."

"It's Constable, Mum."

Flustered, his mother nodded. "Right, right, Stanley, I remember." She glanced at Fraser as she slipped off her coat and handed it to him. He took it and shut the door before hanging it up in the closet. "I'm sorry, Constable. We don't have those here."

"Sure we do, Mum. He's standing right there being polite despite the shit Dad pulled."

Fraser gave him a quick look of disapproval and his mother shook her head. "Watch your mouth, Stanley Raymond Kowalski. I'm not in the mood for that kind of talk. You're not too old to have your mouth washed out with soap."

"Sorry, Mum." Ray swallowed hard, thinking of the times his mom actually did that when he was little, when he got pissed off and had to run around the house screaming or ram his head through a wall. He tried to focus, worked to make himself not come off like a complete asshole in front of the two people who mattered more to him than anybody else. "I'm just a little wound up. You didn't say what you wanted on the phone and I don't like surprises, not when they come from you and Pop. I figured I wouldn't see you for a while after our last talk."

She stepped closer, her voice strained. She sounded like she did when she first told him how unhappy Stella was, how he had to try harder to keep her, how he'd be a fool to let her go, like he had a fucking choice when Stella had plans of her own. "Stanley, I need to talk to you in private."

"This is as private as it gets."

"Stanley..."

"Mum, I'm serious. You talk to me, you're talking to Fraser. We're together. You just have to deal with it."

His mother stared at him for several long moments before she finally nodded. "Could you at least sit down?"

"I can't, Mum, not right now, but you can sit if you want. Hey, you want some tea? Fraser's good with tea."

"Thank you, but I didn't come here for tea, Stanley." She tilted her head slightly and studied him with a practiced eye. "What's wrong with you? You look jumpy, like that time you had to tell your father about going to the police academy."

Ray ignored the question and got straight to the point. "Why are you here, Mum?"

Hesitating, she finally stepped closer, but never looked over at Fraser who stood near the table, just watching, not talking, not interrupting for once.

"Stella tells me you're going to Canada with him."

"By him, you mean Fraser?"

"Yes, him, Fraser." She said his name like it hurt her to say it out loud.

"Yeah, Fraser and me, we're going Saturday for two weeks."

"But why?"

"Why?"

"Why Canada and why now? You've just gotten out of the hospital. You could get sick going into all that snow."

"Don't worry, Mum. We're going shopping tomorrow for good stuff to wear. I'll be fine. Besides, Fraser will make sure I stay warm."

His mother's frown deepened as she stepped closer and tried again, the words obviously difficult. "Stella told me about what happened, what really happened and how you got hurt." She fumbled in her purse and pulled out a tissue, dabbing at her eyes as her voice choked. "I just can't help but think that's the reason."

Ray's chest tightened, his mouth suddenly too dry. "What's the reason?"

"That you're with him now, that because of being hurt that way, you're doing what you're doing with a man when you should be with a nice girl, somebody to take care of you, to be normal again."

"Normal?" Ray turned away, biting his lip, not able to look at his mother. He ignored Fraser, too, couldn't bring himself to face him. How could his own mother even think like that, think that being hurt by Clooney had anything to do with how he felt about Fraser? Disgusted and hurt, he shook his head. "Jesus, Mum."

"I'm serious."

Fraser finally spoke. "Mrs. Kowalski, I'm sorry you feel that my relationship with your son isn't normal, but I assure you that I love him very much."

"Fraser, you don't have to say that."

"But it's the truth, Ray. I don't want your mother to think I took advantage of you during a vulnerable moment in your life."

"Fuck that." Ray turned again and stepped to his mother, grabbing her shoulder, struggling to keep his anger in check. "Mum, you're dead wrong about this. I've loved Fraser a long time. Now, I didn't really want to admit that, because I was a chicken, a coward, scared of what people might say. I didn't want to put up with this kind of thing from you or Pop or all the other people out there who think what we have together ain't normal, but fuck normal, Mum."

"Stanley..."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. You hate when I cuss. Funny, so does Fraser, but I can't help it. I feel like shit right now because my own mother comes to my house, our house, and says stupid shit to me, tells me I'm not normal because I love a man who loves me back. I just don't get that." He squeezed her shoulder and moved away, standing next to Fraser and slipping his arm around his waist. "This is my life now, Mum. It don't matter if we're here or in Canada or in Timbuktu. I love him and if you think that's messed up and not normal, well, that's your problem, not mine. I'm sorry."

His mother closed her eyes briefly, taking a long breath, like she did when she prayed for patience. "I talked to Father Kopernik and he said that this could just be a reaction to what that man did to you, like some kind of shock."

"No offense, Mum, but Father Kopernik doesn't know shit." Ray turned his head and kissed Fraser's cheek before he released him. Fraser's face burned, but he remained quiet, letting Ray say what he had to say. "What happened to me has nothing to do with how I feel about Fraser. He's a good man, a better man than me, better than any man I've ever met. I can't tell you how much he means to me because I'm not good with words like he is, not good at telling people what I'm thinking or feeling."

Ray moved closer, his eyes meeting his mom's concerned stare, her face more pale, more grim than ever. "You know me, Mum, better than just about anybody. You know how much I loved Stella and you know during that whole time, I never cheated, not once, not even when I knew what she was doing all those nights she never came home."

"Stanley, what she did was wrong, just like what you're doing now is wrong. Father Kopernik says..."

"I don't give a flying fuck what Father K says or what the church says or what anybody else says. You know me. You know how I am. When I love somebody, it's for keeps until they throw me away. Stella did that, Mum. Not me. Fraser here, he's like nobody I've ever met. He's smarter and braver and better than anybody I know. Why he wants me, I don't have a clue, but he does and that's all that matters. I need him. I love him. Why isn't that good enough for you, Mum? What, because he's not a woman, I can't love him and have a good life?"

"What about children? You always wanted children."

"If I'd stayed with Stella, there'd be no kids, either. Besides, I can't be a good father if I hate who I am or who I'm with and I'd be like that if I were with anybody but Fraser." His voice softened as he held back the pain, controlled himself just a little while longer. "I'm sorry you feel bad about this, because you know I love you, but like you said before, I'm grown up now. You've got your life with Dad and I've got mine with Fraser. You can't deal with that, then we got nothing else to talk about."

"You're still in shock from what that awful man did. You can't know what you want, not after something like that. You should come stay with me or with Stella. She can help you through this. Get away from here and get your head straight again. Father Kopernik said there were some good counselors who work with men like you."

"Men like me?"

"Men who'd been hurt like you were."

"I'm not talking to an asshole priest who thinks I'm sick because I'm gay."

"He's just wants to help, Stanley. I told your father that I wanted you to come stay with us a while. He said he'd let you as long as you went to Father Kopernik for counseling to get straightened out. He wants you to be well again."

Ray closed his eyes, his head spinning, his chest almost too tight for air. "You had no right to tell people about what happened to me."

"I'm your mother."

"Yeah, I know." Ray opened his eyes and he wanted to throw up, his stomach even tighter than his fists. "That's the only reason I don't sock you right now. You need to leave, Mum. I love you, but I really don't want to see you right now, not when you're acting like I'm sick, like there's something wrong with me because I love Fraser."

"Stanley..." Her voice came out pleading as Fraser moved to get her coat, his partner's grim silence almost as loud as Ray's name on his mother's lips.

"Just go, Mum. I'll send you a card from Canada."

Slipping on her coat with Fraser's help, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "I'm so sorry, Stanley. I didn't mean to get you so upset. I just wanted to do the right thing."

"I know."

His mother nodded and turned to face Fraser. "Take care of him. I'm never going to say I approve of this thing between you, but I know my son, and he wouldn't say these things if he didn't feel them in his heart. He's got a good heart, my Stanley. He must love you very much."

"And I love him very much as well."

Resigned, she took one last look at Ray and left, the door clicking shut behind her. Slumping down on the sofa, Ray leaned forward, his face in his right hand, his whole body trembling. Strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him into an embrace. "I'm sorry, Ray."

"Don't be." His face pressed into Fraser's chest, the words muffled. "Not your fault."

Fraser cupped the back of his head and held him, Ray's whole body shaking as he wept, his tears burning like the anguish that seared his heart.

Sluggish, his muscles tight and twitchy, Ray rolled over in the bed and rested his head on Fraser's chest as they lay in the dark. He snuggled in closer, drinking in the heat, relishing the security of being held by the man he loved. He couldn't get enough, never would. "I'm sorry about what my mum said."

"You've got no control over what other people say, Ray. There's no need for an apology from you."

"Well, you'll be old and grey before you get one from her or my dad."

"I'm not worried about that. I wish I could convince them that my intentions are honorable."

"Hard to do when they think we're both faggots." His partner tensed and Ray rubbed his hand back and forth across his belly to help him relax. "I just mean that they don't think what we're doing is honorable. We're fighting years of conditioning from the church, years of hearing about being unnatural and sick and evil. It's hard, because I still love them even though I hate that they still feel that way. Nothing I can do about it, nothing you can do about it. Might as well eat the moon."

"Eat the moon?"

"It's a hopeless cause."

"Maybe not. I'm still hopeful that someday they'll adjust to the notion."

"Notion? What we have is a notion?"

Fraser mussed Ray's hair. "A very fine notion."

Sighing deeply, Ray ignored the rising headache, the muscle cramps in his legs, and growing nausea. Instead, he focused on holding and being held by Fraser. "Yeah, a fine notion, that's good. I like that."

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"What you said before, about not knowing why I love you, is that true? Do you really not know why I love you?"

Ray gritted his teeth, vaguely remembering how he'd let that slip out. "I might not know why, but I don't question that you do, and I'm damn grateful for that. Still, it's pretty obvious who got the short end of the stick."

Fraser shook his head and shifted. "Ray, look at me."

"Come on, Fraser, I'm comfortable here. I don't want to move and I don't want to make a big deal out of this. You don't have to make any long list or declaration. I believe you when you say you love me."

Squeezing him tighter, Fraser rubbed his chin across the top of Ray's head. He spoke in hush, that deep, rich tone he used when he really wanted to make a point. "Almost from the beginning, I loved you, Ray, for your strength and tenacity, your wit, your generous heart, your ability to cut through the bullshit, as you call it, to get to the truth of the matter. I love your devotion to justice, your fierce bravery, your willingness to let me into your life even though I'm sometimes a freak in your eyes. I loved and do love your loyalty, your stubbornness, your sharp mind, your passion, your beauty, your absolute sense of what's right. Most of all, I love how you love me, how you believe in me without fail, and how you accept me, faults and all." Fraser kissed the top of his head again and whispered, "I love you more than I can say, Ray, more than I can ever put into words, for all that and more."

Ray buried his face against Fraser's chest. "Jesus, you want me to start bawling again?"

"No, Ray, I want you to know why I love you. I need you to know that in no way did I get the short end of the stick."

Ray had to clear his throat several times before he trusted his voice. "You really feel like that, about me being beautiful and passionate and all that other stuff?"

"Yes, without a doubt."

"That's so weird."

"Why is that weird? It's all true."

"But that's how I see you."

Fraser smiled, pleased with the comment. "I appreciate that, Ray."

Ray pulled away enough to shift up, to see Fraser's face, to watch his eyes in the low light of the bedroom. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen. I thought that he first time I saw you. I saw your picture in the Vecchio file, but that didn't do you justice. When you walked in to the station that day, wearing that suit, with Dief at your heels, I thought, shit, he's a good-looking guy."

"Is that why you hugged me first thing?"

Ray flushed slightly and grinned. "Actually, I was kind of afraid you'd run off. I figured you'd think you'd come home to the booby prize."

"Booby prize?"

"You know, the consolation gift that you get when you don't get what you really want, the dorky stuff you sometimes get just for showing up."

"Ray, Ray, Ray, where to do you get these outrageous ideas?"

"Don't know."

"You're the grand prize, Ray. I wanted to win you from the very start. I wish I'd been more brave from the beginning and let you know."

"Like I said before, I probably wouldn't have been ready, Fraser. I mean, sure, I can admit I thought you were good-looking. I'm not blind. But admitting that I was really attracted to you beyond the outside package, well, that took it to a whole different level of self-awareness I just couldn't have handled at the time. Besides, I wasn't over Stella, and I didn't really know you yet, not like now, not enough to trust my heart to you. No, you were better off waiting."

"I'm just pleased you're ready now."

Ray leaned in, his lips only a few inches from Fraser's mouth as he whispered. "Oh, yeah." Pressing in, he kissed him, soft at first, and then with more pressure, his tongue finding heat. The uncomfortable ache all over his body shifted, changed into a throbbing, deep need. His cock hardened, begging for more. Slipping his hand between his legs, he fisted his erection and stroked only to find Fraser's hand fighting to take over. "Let me. Please."

Surrendering, Ray lay back and allowed Fraser to pull down his sweats and boxers quickly. Lowering his head, his lover took the whole length in his mouth. Silky wet flame whipped all up and down Ray's spine. Moaning, Ray pleaded as he gripped the dark hair of the bobbing head. "Oh, God, Fraser, Fraser, I can't..." His back arched, his body responding in seconds to the talented tongue, the pressure, the need to come almost right away. Short thrusts made his balls draw up, his mind a swarm of color, bright flashes going off all at once as he shuddered. Release hit him hard, slammed him into bone-crushing pleasure, his breath nothing but a hissing scream. Nothing made sense and nothing mattered as long as life let him come until his dick couldn't come anymore.

Awareness arrived with Fraser's tongue licking up his belly, his partner lifting his shirt to savor his nipples, the brush of whiskers adding a slow burn against raw skin. Groaning again, Ray trembled at the delight of that love, that completeness. Slowly, Fraser stretched out over his body and took his mouth, some of Ray's own come still there, still salty. Ray loved it, loved the lingering slick bitterness in Fraser's beautiful mouth. Finally, Fraser lifted his head and then rubbed his nose against Ray's. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Fraser." Catching his breath, Ray shook his head. "You shouldn't have let me come so fast."

Fraser sniffed at his neck, taking in a deep breath, before he did a quick flick of his tongue against his skin. "I'm selfish. I wanted to taste you. You're addictive."

Ray chuckled. "Just another late night snack, huh?"

"More than a snack, Ray." Again Fraser enjoyed a whiff before rolling to lie at Ray's side, his body still pressed against him tightly. Fraser reached down and pulled up the blanket to cover their bodies and then sighed with contentment. "You make me so happy. You have no idea how much I need you."

Relaxed and warm, Ray drew Fraser into his arms. Sliding his hand down, he found his partner's cock, sticky and only half hard. He frowned. "You came already?"

"Oh, yes."

"But how?"

"Performing fellatio is as arousing for me as it is for you."

"You're kidding."

"I assure you I'm not."

"You like sucking cock enough to get off on it without me even helping?"

Fraser lifted his head, his eyes worried. "I'm sorry, Ray. Should I have waited?"

"No, no, of course not. I'm just surprised, that's all. I just didn't think you could do that."

Smiling, his face suddenly more playful, Fraser kissed and licked the side of his jaw. "You'd be amazed at how much pleasure I get just from touching you. I can reach completion just by thinking about it, but doing it, well, it's so much more satisfying."

"I turn you on, huh?"

"Oh, yes."

Chuckling at Fraser's sleepy words, Ray drank in the heat, savored the attention. He let himself drift off as he kissed Fraser's cheek. "Same here, buddy, same here."

Morning came after a very long night, a night of vomiting, shakes and cold sweats. Ray dragged himself to the table, disgusted with himself and his traitorous body. "Got any coffee?"

Fraser brought him his cup and put chocolate candy down beside his plate. He also handed him a glass of water before he busied himself with fixing breakfast. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Well, I'm not throwing up my socks, so I guess that's an improvement." Ray sipped his coffee and closed his eyes, not wanting to think about how easy it would be to feel better. "Sorry about keeping you awake most of the night."

"You were ill, Ray. It's not your fault."

"Fraser, we both know why I feel like shit."

Nodding, not arguing for a change, Fraser brought the pot of oatmeal to the table and put some in each of the bowls. After he returned the pot to the stove, he sat down, but didn't eat right away. Instead, he leaned in, his hands fisted together in front of his face. "I'm proud of you."

"Proud of me? Why? For abusing drugs?"

"No, for stopping. It's not easy. You don't give yourself enough credit."

"That's because I'm too busy giving myself too much slack. I'll feel like crap for a while and then it'll be better. I should be feeling okay by tomorrow when we leave."

"You sound like you've done this before."

"With booze, yeah. It's not that much different."

"Still, it's not easy."

"Yeah, well, let's change the subject. Where are we going to get the goods we need? You got a place in mind?"

Fraser doctored his oatmeal with some butter and a touch of milk. "There are two places, actually. I thought we could check out the army surplus store first. They often run specials on arctic gear."

"More often in summer than now."

"True, but their prices are better than most places. Then there's Earl's Canadian Outfitter's. They've got both modern thermal wear as well as some natural fur you might like. You can also check out their boots."

"You think I should get new boots?"

"Your boots are fine, Ray, but you can get something more suited for snow if you'd like."

"They got mukluks?"

Fraser nearly dropped his spoon. "Mukluks?"

"Why not? If they're good enough for those Inuit guys, why not me?"

"Why not, indeed. We'll be sure to ask." Fraser resumed eating, but frowned when he noticed his partner's untouched food. "Ray, you need to at least try to eat."

Ray lifted his cup in a toast. "Coffee's good enough."

"Coffee isn't enough."

"Coffee's all I can keep down. Don't worry about it."

"But I do worry." The words came out a whisper.

Ray took his hand and squeezed it. "I know you do, but it's okay. We just got different bellies, you and me. You can eat in the morning and I don't even want to see food until noon even on a good day, which this ain't." He released Fraser's hand and sighed before he pushed everything out of his way and then crossed his arms on the table. He put his head down, the cast hard and rough against his cheek. "Eat your breakfast, Fraser. Then we'll get dressed and go get stuff we need."

"You should go lie down. We can go shopping this afternoon."

"Nope. That's cutting it too close. I don't want to be rushing around here tonight wondering what the hell I forgot."

"You won't. We've got a list."

Ray checked out Fraser while still keeping his head down. "We've got a list? When did we make a list?"

"Well, I took the liberty of making one for both of us, Ray. I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind. A list, huh? You think that'll work, making a list and checking it twice."

"Just because I wear red, doesn't make me Santa, Ray."

"That mean you don't know who's been naughty or nice?"

"On the contrary, I know some who have been both."

Ray laughed and lifted his head. He loved when Fraser teased back. "So, we're on both lists, huh?"

"So it would seem."

"That mean we get the goodies, but then we'll have to give them back?"

Still smiling, Fraser shook his head and stood up to put his dish in the sink. "I think it means we've already gotten our goodies."

"You calling me a goodie, Frase?"

"If the stocking fits, Ray."

Warmed by Fraser's good humor, Ray almost forgot about his nervous stomach, almost. He held his achy belly and sighed. "Think I will stretch out for a minute, just close my eyes and hope things settle down."

"Do that, Ray. There's no hurry. It's only nine o'clock. The stores don't open for another hour."

Making his way to the sofa, Ray lay down and pulled a blanket down over himself. He closed his eyes and willed the world to stop spinning for a while. At the sink Fraser cleaned up the dishes. Neither man wanted to answer the phone when it rang.

Fraser dried his hands and picked up the receiver. "Ray Vecchio's residence, Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police speaking. How may I help you?" Fraser suddenly stood even straighter, his voice tougher. "He's resting." He paused. "I can give him a message." Ray didn't bother to ask who it was. He recognized Fraser's barely tolerating Stella tone a mile off. "No, I'm not screening his calls, Ms. Kowalski. I assure you, I will give him your message. Good day." The phone receiver went back into the cradle with enough force to wake up Dief, who whined a quick protest before going back to sleep.

"Fraser?"

"That woman."

"Stella, huh?"

"Indeed."

"I could've talked to her."

"She wants you to call her."

"About?"

"She said your mother was still upset. She said you had issues to discuss."

"Did you want to say she could go to hell?"

Startled by the insight, Fraser faced him and finally smiled. "Actually, I wanted to say worse. I'm not sure what it is about her, but she seems to bring out the worst in me."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, she seems to go out of her way to goad me, not to mention that condescending tone she uses."

"I didn't mean for you to literally tell me about it, Fraser. I know what she does."

"Ah."

Ray sat up, still weary, but suddenly too wired to sleep. "You know what this means, right?"

"What?"

"It means my mum and Stella have talked and decided to tag team us."

"Tag team?"

"Come at us from both sides, pull out the stops, go for the last ditch effort to save our souls."

"I didn't realize Stella was religious."

"She's not, not like my mum, but she knows the ropes, knows how to use it to her advantage when she wants."

Fraser settled down on the sofa beside him "I see. What do you intend to do?"

Ray crossed his arms and let his head fall back, closing his eyes. "Well, I have to call back, but just to say I got the message."

"She'll want to get together to talk, alone."

"I know that. Not going to happen."

Fraser paused briefly, his voice strained. "I'm not sure I understand what Stella's purpose is in all this. Why does she care about who you're with unless she still has feelings for you and wants to reconcile."

Ray lifted his head and opened his eyes, taking in the sober features of his partner. "You don't have to worry about that."

"About what?"

"She doesn't want me back. That's not it."

"Then what does she want?"

Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Ray took a couple of deep breaths. He hated talking bad about Stella, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped. "Stella always thinks that she knows best. God, I can't tell you how many fights we had over that."

"You're saying she's trying to interfere because she thinks you'll be better off with someone else?"

"Think about it, Fraser. I was with her for twenty-one years, if you count in the six years before we got married. All that time she thinks I'm completely straight. Hell, I think I'm completely straight, and along comes Fraser, the man of my dreams. She's got to think I've lost my marbles, so she's doing what she does, trying to fix it, because she thinks she knows what's best. That's just Stella. Throw in the fact that she and my mum are best buddies and you can see how they'd work together to try to break us apart for our own good."

"It sounds dastardly, Ray."

"Dastardly?"

"Yes, Ray, dastardly. She's not only unsupportive of your choices, but she's trying to undermine our relationship using an unfair advantage."

"What unfair advantage?"

Fraser turned to look at him, his face drawn with the strain of little sleep and too much worry. "You said yourself you've known each other since you were children. She knows how you behave, how you react..."

"What buttons to push." Ray held up a hand. "But that doesn't mean she knows what to do about me now and that's what scares her."

"Scares her? Ray, are we talking about the same woman? She doesn't seem the least bit afraid."

"I know Stella and she's scared, Fraser, scared that our marriage was a sham, scared that a huge part of her life is changing and that change is out of her hands. And that's one thing Stella always hated, not controlling things, not calling the shots."

"She is rather bossy, not to mention abrasive and intrusive."

"Damn, Fraser's got a wicked tongue."

"I'm sorry, Ray, I shouldn't say negative things about her."

"Fraser, you're entitled to your opinion."

"But she is your ex-wife and you still have feelings for her. I should be more sensitive to that fact."

"You should be honest. I'll tell you if you step over the line. So far, you're fine. I know you don't like her and you're not saying anything I don't already know."

Accepting that, Fraser nodded, but didn't smile. "Are you going to see her?"

"Like I said, I'll call, tell her to back off."

"And if she won't accept that?"

"Then she can kiss my skinny ass as I fly off to Canada."

"Are you going to actually say that?"

"You think I won't?"

Fraser flushed and leaned in closer. "Just so long as I'm the only one who can actually do it, then you can say it to anyone you want."

"Tough choice there." Ray kissed him lightly before he rested his forehead against Fraser's. "Deal."

Ray pulled on the fifth heavy-weight, down-filled coat and nodded as he lifted his arms and tested the pull at the shoulders. He liked the chocolate color, the dark brown trim, not to mention that the sleeve easily stretched over his cast. "Yeah, yeah, this is the one."

"It's quite fetching, Ray."

Turning, Ray checked himself out in the mirror. "Fetching, huh? Who do you suppose I'm trying to fetch?" Fraser blushed at the tease and Ray leaned closer to whisper, "Don't have to fetch. Got what I want right here."

"Indeed, Ray, as do I."

Ray stood straighter, his eyes suddenly bright. "Oh, man, I found a hat." He stepped to the next aisle and pulled down a fur hat. "This is it, this is the one." He put it on his head and modeled it for Fraser.

"Ray, that looks like..."

"Yeah, I know. It's just like the one your dad wears." He flipped down the flaps. "Look, it's got built in earmuffs, too. Cool. My ears stick out and they always get cold."

"Your ears do not stick out, Ray. They're very fine ears."

Ray grinned and scratched his cheek, amused and warmed by the loving tone. "What do you think about the hat?"

"It's a fine hat, Ray."

"You don't mind me wearing a hat like your dad's?"

"Why should I mind? He wore it in good health for many years." Fraser reached up and straightened the hat slightly, tilting his head as he admired it. "And it looks very good on you."

"All right then. What next, gloves or boots?"

"Either is fine."

"You're no help."

"It's your choice, Ray."

"You're the guide. You pick. Gloves or boots?"

"Gloves."

"Good, good. Which way?"

Fraser led him to another shelf covered with every kind of glove or mitten Ray could imagine. "What should I get, wool, leather, nylon, what?"

"You should try them on and see what fits and feels right."

"We could be here all day."

"We have plenty of time."

"You wear fur-lined leather, right?"

"Yes."

Ray wet his lower lip as he remembered the first time he'd seen Fraser slip on those black leather gloves. His cock twitched at the memory of how sexy he looked, flexing his fingers and big hands, the leather all stretched tight. He cleared his throat, trying not to give himself away. "You've got great gloves, Fraser. I want some of those."

Standing right beside him, Fraser studied him, his eyes curious. "Are you all right, Ray? You look flushed."

"Well, I'm wearing a coat and hat indoors, Frase. It's hot."

"It's not that kind of flush." Fraser lowered his voice, his eyes twinkling with sudden awareness and amusement. "You like gloves, Ray?"

"Fuck."

"Language, Ray. We're in public."

"You don't miss a trick."

Still smiling, Fraser picked up a pair of black leather ones, very similar to the ones he owned, only with longer fingers. "Try these."

Ray trembled with excitement as he slipped one on his right hand. "It feels great and it fits like..."

"A glove?"

"Yeah, yeah, it does."

Fraser reached over and picked up another pair for himself. Carefully, he pulled one on slowly, extending his fingers to make the leather tighter, making sure that Ray got a good show. Ray swallowed so hard he thought he'd choke and his cock wasn't kidding. It wanted to get busy with that powerful hand in a big way. Fraser watched him the whole time and just smiled, knowing full well what effect his performance had on Ray. "I think I'll buy these."

Ray looked up, his breathing almost too fast for his mind to catch up. He couldn't believe Fraser read him so easily, not when he tried so hard to hide his freakier needs. He worked hard to keep his voice steady and nonchalant. "Why? You've already got a good pair."

"I'll tell you when we get home. I have a theory."

"A theory, huh?"

Whispering, Fraser stepped even closer, his mouth to Ray's ear. "After I've used this pair, I won't be wearing them again outside the bedroom."

Ray gulped for air, suddenly dizzy. "Jesus, Fraser."

Stepping back a bit, smiling as though he'd just told Ray the weather, he pointed to the back of the store. "I believe the boots are this way."

"Bastard."

Fraser chuckled as he walked off towards the back way. "Now, Ray, you know that's not true."

"You are so going to get it when we get home."

Fraser stopped and turned, his eyes narrowed with a sexual heat Ray rarely saw his friend allow himself in public. "I'm counting on that, Ray."

Throat dry, suddenly jittery, Ray returned the spark. "My boots are fine. Let's go home."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't they have boots in Canada?"

"Indeed, they do, Ray."

"Then let's pay for this stuff and go home. I've got my own theories to test."

Fraser beat him to the checkout, gloves in hand, smiling like the perfectly innocent Mountie the whole damn time.

Lying naked and stretched out on the bed, Ray moaned in pleasure. Leather-clad hands touched his nipples, then his belly, slipping over his hips, moving slowly downward. He gripped the sheets and bit his lower lip to keep from screaming as Fraser finally reached his cock, stroking it lovingly. "Jesus, oh, yeah, right there."

Ray hissed when Fraser fondled his balls as the other hand moved over his inner right thigh. His whole body trembled as Fraser lifted his legs up over his bare shoulders and proceeded to lick his cock with an eager tongue, all the while moving those delicious gloves all over. Whimpering, Ray allowed himself to drift with the flames, to shiver with the delicious whips of heat snapping through every muscle. His head buzzed, swarming with reds and yellows, full of images of Fraser petting him, controlling him, loving him like no one ever had before.

Panting, he allowed the wave to take him, to carry him up and over as he shuddered. Even then Fraser didn't release him, but kept sucking and lapping. Ray groaned, the coming almost painful as he jerked upward, his eyes squeezed shut against the explosion in his head, the ecstasy swelling all over. He loved coming more than breathing so he traded off and came even harder, seizing upward. Fraser's hands held him steady, let him keep going as his mouth never stopped working.

Gasping for air, Ray finally relaxed, falling back. "Jesus."

Sliding up between his legs, a nude Fraser stretched up over him, his lips dark red and puffy. Fraser leaned in and kissed him, his tongue delving in, powerful and thick, completely relentless.

Ray swam in the mix of flavors, himself and his partner, sharp and musky. Fraser's beard burned cheek to cheek as he settled beside him and whispered, "I love you, Ray."

Love didn't half cover it for Ray, but he couldn't come up with anything that sounded better. "Me, too, Fraser, me, too. God."

Sweat cooled and Fraser shifted, lying at Ray's side before pulling up the blanket to cover them. He rested his head on his partner's chest, his dark hair sticking to Ray's skin. "My theory appears to be correct. You, indeed, do enjoy fine leather."

Ray closed his eyes, his voice husky. "You have no idea how hot you are, buck naked and wearing nothing but black leather gloves."

The chuckle tickled his shoulder. Fraser snuggled against him, his arm stretched across his chest. "Is it just the gloves or the leather?"

"Both."

"Ah."

"Yeah, ah, big time ah, as in, God I love your hands, gloves or no gloves, but I really like leather." He hesitated, not sure if he should even ask what Fraser thought, but decided he had to know. "You think it's weird, me liking something kinky like this?"

It took an extra beat for Fraser to answer. "I wouldn't even label this as kinky, Ray, not based on my experience."

The world suddenly got more real and a few degrees colder. Ray didn't even want to go there, but his tongue had other ideas. "You talking about what you did with Bullweather?"

"Yes, but I really prefer not to discuss it."

"Good. Me, neither, not when I'm feeling this good." He reached a hand down and found Fraser still hard. "Besides, I've got other things to take care of." He turned on his side, shifting Fraser to his back, meeting dark blue eyes that returned his gaze, open and full of desire.

Sitting up, he let the blanket fall away as he straddled Fraser's groin, leaning down for a kiss, first the mouth, then the eyes. His partner shivered under him, letting Ray make the moves for a change. Ray nibbled at Fraser's ear as he whispered, "What do you want, Fraser? What do you want me to do?"

Fraser drew in a long breath, the words soft and needy. "I want you to make love to me, Ray."

Sitting back up, Ray gulped and stared. For the first time in his life, he regretted coming. "I just came, Fraser. It's going to take a few minutes to get going again."

"I'm more than willing to wait, Ray, but that's what I'd really like."

Nodding, Ray smiled, growing more and more fond of the idea of fucking Fraser, of doing something he'd longed to do for ages. Then he suddenly frowned. "What about stuff?"

"Stuff?"

"Yeah, you know, condoms and jelly. Stuff."

Fraser grinned and, still wearing the gloves, took Ray's hand from his chest, kissing the palm. "I took the liberty of getting the accouterments we'll need to make the experience more enjoyable. They're in the side table."

Ray laughed and shook his head. "What a good little Mountie we have here."

Fraser shoved his hips up, his cock rubbing against Ray's backside. "Not so little."

"You got that right. Jesus." Still smiling, Ray bent down and kissed him some more, enjoying the salty oiliness of clean sweat. No more talking. He needed to focus, to concentrate, to get Fraser ready, and to give himself time to get hard again. He shifted downward and then stretched out, letting his mouth have a field day with Fraser's nipples. He spent plenty of time sucking, letting the nubs grow between his teeth. Meanwhile, he rocked himself against Fraser's body while his partner used his gloved hands to cup his ass, pulling their groins closer.

Ray raised his hips and shifted his knees so he could go lower as he spread Fraser's thighs, exposing him completely. He'd never tasted Fraser's dick, not once. He wanted to know what Fraser knew, wanted to understand what he liked so much. Using just the tip of his tongue, he flicked the crown. Fraser jerked upward and called out his name over and over. Ray loved it, almost like a chant, a cheer to urge him forward. He held the cock steady, pulling back the foreskin. Then he mouthed the tip, the slick end silky and bitter against his tongue. Opening wider, he took more of it in, the extended veins pulsing. The heat surprised him, nearly burned him as he licked and then sucked, Fraser suddenly bucking and thrusting deeper. A flood of bitterness nearly choked him, but he didn't pull away, just did his best to swallow, finding he couldn't keep at it. Finally, he released Fraser and wiped the come from his chin.

Ray shook his head as he climbed back up over Fraser, his own dick nearly half hard again. "I'm sorry, Fraser. I didn't mean to put you over the edge before we got a chance to do the other thing."

Fraser didn't answer. He just lay there stunned, his breathing harsh, his face flushed, his hair plastered to his forehead. Ray moved to his side and pulled him closer, rubbing his growing cock against Fraser's thigh. "You still with me?"

Fraser finally managed a husky, "Dear Lord."

Laughing out loud, Ray buried his face against Fraser's sweaty chest. "You liked that, huh?"

Arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer. "That was quite remarkable, Ray. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Might have to hold off on the other for a few more minutes."

Fraser kissed his temple, squeezing him gently. "I'm yours completely, Ray."

Closing his eyes against the sting of tears, Ray stayed quiet, not trusting his voice. His erection withered away slightly as he trembled. After a few moments, Fraser whispered, "Are you all right?"

"More than all right, Fraser."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You seem upset."

"I'm not, honest, at least not the way you think. It's just, I'm not used to this."

"This? Do you mean sex with a man?"

"No, I mean you. I mean someone who loves me like you do." His words choked. "I've never had anyone like you before, Fraser. It kind of scares me."

"Scares you? Why?"

"It's just so different from what I'm used to. You want to please me so much and I want to please you and I'm not used to having it both ways like that. It's like better than I ever imagined."

"Are you saying Stella never tried to please you?"

"I don't want to talk about Stella, but no, not really, not like this. It was all about making her feel good and I got off on that, but this is so different, so much better. What if I fuck up? What if you decide you made a mistake? What if I can't do it right? You know how I suck sometimes when I'm not sure about stuff."

Fraser's hand palmed the middle of his chest and rolled him onto his back. Then he shifted up and over Ray's body, straddling his chest as he stared down into his eyes with a fierce intensity. "Listen to me, Ray Kowalski. You please me, will always please me. Get that doubt right out of your head and stop second guessing what's going to happen. Nobody knows the future, but I want you in my life, always."

"Me, too, but..."

"No buts allowed here. Repeat after me, I am a brilliant lover and Fraser loves me, always."

"Fraser."

"I mean it, Ray. Repeat after me, I am a brilliant lover and Fraser loves me, always."

"Is this one of those affirmative things?"

"Affirmations. Yes, I believe it is. Now, say it."

Blushing intensely, Ray shook his head and refused. "It's silly. I feel dumb."

Fraser moved his ass back and forth, rubbing it against Ray's chest as he watched Ray carefully. Breathing quickened, Ray's cock once again took interest. "Okay, okay, I'm a brilliant lover and Fraser loves me."

"Always."

"Always."

Fraser rewarded him with a kiss and then lowered his face to the crook of his neck, sniffing deeply. "You smell delightful."

"I stink."

"On the contrary. You smell like love."

"Sex."

"Sex and love, yes, a wonderful combination." Nibbles at his ear and licks up the side of his neck made Ray hard again. He lifted his knees and positioned himself better to hold Fraser's weight. Closing his eyes, he devoted himself to enjoying the moment, to ignoring the ghosts that kept peeking out when he least expected them. Instead, he smiled as he realized Fraser's erection had returned for an encore.

"So, how do you want to do this?"

"What?"

"If I'm going to do you, I have to know what you like."

Fraser sat up, his face and eyes bright. "Do me?"

"Yeah, you know, make love, do you, fuck."

"Ah, well, Ray, there are a variety of ways for anal intercourse to occur. For example,..."

"Fraser, I know the ways, I just want to know which one you like best, doggie style, face to face, or with you on top."

Fraser stilled for a moment. "You've done this before?"

Ray looked away, suddenly bashful, not really wanting to explain. "No."

"Then how..."

"I watched some videos, okay?"

"You watched instructional videos on anal intercourse?"

In full blush, Ray closed his eyes. "I rented some gay porn."

"Gay pornography?"

"Yeah."

Fraser leaned in, his legs stretching out, chest to chest. "I'm surprised."

Ray finally met his eyes. "I was curious."

"What did you think?"

"Boy meets boy, boy fucks boy, boy sucks boy, boy gets fucked. The plots sucked as much as the guys did."

Fraser laughed and shook his head. "I've never seen one. I think I'd be too embarrassed to rent anything that explicit."

"You can do it, but not watch, huh?"

"I'd much rather do than watch, Ray."

The sultry invitation drew Ray's focus back to Fraser. "You didn't answer my question. How do you want to do it?"

Fraser captured Ray's head between his two gloved hands and kissed him deeply. Then he whispered, "I want to see you, Ray, and face to face is the best way to do that."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"It won't hurt? Don't I need to get you ready first or something?"

"Using your finger and plenty of lubricant should be sufficient."

Ray swallowed hard, suddenly reluctant. No way did he want to harm Fraser. "But it's been a while. Are you sure it won't hurt?"

"It might be uncomfortable at first, but I assure you, that passes and it's an incredible sensation."

"You really like it?"

Fraser tilted his head, studying him, his eyes intense. "If you're uncomfortable with the idea, we don't have to do this, Ray."

"No, no, it's okay. It's just," Ray hesitated, working to drive away the unwanted thoughts. "I don't know if I can ever let you do me like that."

"Understood."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Not at all."

"So, you don't want to ever do me?"

"Only if you wanted me to and only when you're ready."

"And if I'm never ready?"

"Then I'd let you do the honors for as long as you like." Fraser sealed that statement with another kiss and then rolled off Ray. He reached over into the drawer of the side table and got the condom and lubricant. He handed the bottle to Ray. "Use your finger and when you're ready, I'll put on the condom for you. We'll go slowly at first."

Lying on his back, he spread his legs and Ray moved between them. He positioned Fraser's calves on his shoulders and then flipped the lid of the KY jelly, slicking his fingers. Using his right index, he ran it up and down his partner's crack and then found the hole. He eased his finger in as Fraser's breathing got a lot faster. As he pushed further in, he hit a hard knot, and Fraser jerked up, his words in between hisses. "That's it. Oh, yes, Ray, yes."

Ray did it again and Fraser moaned deeply, his face red as he writhed at each contact. His cock leaked as Ray finger-fucked him, adding more and more jelly until it was all good and slick.

"Put the rubber on me, Frase."

Fumbling with the foil package, Fraser ripped it open and reached down between his legs as Ray thrust his hips up higher. Condom rolled on, Fraser lay back and Ray added more jelly. Moving in closer, he guided his cock as Fraser used his legs to steady himself. "Ready?"

"Please, Ray, now."

Fraser's eyes grew darker, but they didn't close, just watched as Ray edged the crown of his cock inside, the opening tight. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

"Don't stop."

"I'm not stopping."

"Please, just fuck me."

Startled at the urgent words, Ray stared at his partner and smiled, realizing for the first time how much Fraser wanted to be fucked. "God, you really want this."

"Ray, you're being cruel. Please, get on with it."

"Bossy Mountie."

Before Fraser could protest, Ray shoved harder, his cock thrusting in several inches before meeting too much resistance. He pulled back and pushed again, this time going further. With each try, he went deeper, until he finally buried himself. He paused, watching Fraser's face, seeing the need. His own cock begged to get going, to stop fooling around with slow and easy. Leaning in, stretching his back to the limit, he kissed Fraser. "You ready?"

"I swear, Ray..."

"I take that as a yes." Words finished, he raised up and pumped, the friction on his dick like velvet turned to a blaze up his spine, a fire storm in his brain. His world became the piston of his hips as he thrust in over and over. Fucking Fraser came down to power and surrender, submission and strength. He needed this as much as Fraser, to have his lover's gift, to receive it without question, to know it as right. Gasping in air, he kept going, sweat rolling down his face and chest, his thighs shaking from the effort. Fraser's whimpers spurred him to go faster, to ram harder, to make both their worlds burn to ashes.

His balls slapped against Fraser's ass, the rhythmic thwack of flesh mingled with Fraser's moans and his own pants a real turn on. He wanted to fuck forever, the arousal sending this head and his dick to Heaven. Suddenly, with one last deep thrust, the rush swelled larger, larger than ever. It blasted his brain into space, his body wrenching so hard, he screamed with coming. Below him Fraser shook, too, his cock spilling come all over. With a final grunt, Ray collapsed on top of Fraser, his eyes closed, his heart needing more air than his lungs could feed it.

After a few moments, Fraser's winded voice whispered, "Good God."

And Ray kept his mouth shut, because he couldn't have said it better.

"Do we have everything?" Ray ran a nervous hand through his hair and scanned the bedroom. "I know I'm forgetting something."

"Did you check the list?"

"I couldn't find the list. You're the list person, not me."

Fraser's calm voice annoyed him. "A list can help alleviate unnecessary anxiety, Ray. All you have to do is..."

"Fraser."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Instead of being upset, Fraser just nodded. "Understood. Would you like me to make a quick inspection of your bag?"

"I can inspect my own bag. I just think there's something I'm forgetting."

"Did you get your medications?"

"Yeah."

"Your clothes?"

"Yeah."

"Your camera?"

"Bingo. That's it." Ray went to the closet and pulled out his camera case. He put it on the bed and opened it, making sure he had the extra lens and film. "I'm glad you reminded me."

"It was on the list, Ray."

Ray shook his head, trying very hard not to get angry with Fraser's version of I told you so. "Worry about your own list. I mean, is that all you're taking?"

Fraser patted his rucksack and nodded. I don't need that many personal items. I'm used to living in the arctic."

"Fraser, you haven't really been in the arctic for a while now. Don't you think you might want to take some heavier gear, too?"

"I'll be fine, Ray. I assure you, I'm more than able to deal with the harsh environment. In fact, I'm looking forward to seeing Yellowknife again."

"I can see that." And he could. Not only did Fraser look downright well-fucked, but seriously happy for the first time in weeks. What a great smile. "I'm glad we're doing this, Fraser. It'll be good to get away, just the two of us. It'll be great, real greatness." He looked at the clock and then his watch. "That is, once we get there. Frannie's running late as usual. We should've gotten Welsh to take us to the airport. He gets somewhere half an hour early and he thinks he's late."

"There's no need to worry, Ray. I told Frannie a time that was at least an hour earlier than when we really need to be there."

Ray grinned. "You old fox, you. You're finally catching on."

"Well, I wasn't trying to be deceitful. I've just learned in my association with Francesca, that one needs to make adjustments in the time frame if one wishes to arrive promptly."

"Like I said, you fox, you. I like it."

Ray did one more quick check of his suit case. Before he could close it, Fraser stopped him. "Ray, is that your gun?"

"Yeah."

"You know you can't take a gun into Canada."

"I'm a cop."

"That's not the issue. You're still not allowed to take your gun across the border."

Frowning, Ray reached in and pulled out the small weapon. He held it in his palm like an offering. "It's just my back up gun."

"Ray..."

"I know, I know. No guns across the border, got it. Can I at least have a gun when we get to where we're going, a shotgun or a rifle maybe?"

Fraser studied him a few moments before he finally answered. "I can apply for a temporary hunting permit. I'm sure Alan will have some rifles we can use while we're there."

"Alan?"

"Yes, Alan McClain. He's the friend who's loaning us his cabin."

"I don't think you told me his name before."

"Does it matter?"

"Not really." Ray sighed and then stepped to the bureau. He pulled out a drawer and put the gun in the lockbox. Keeping his back to Fraser, he confessed, "I feel naked without a gun. Anything could happen."

"Nothing's going to happen that requires firearms."

Ray turned, suddenly angry. "You don't know that. Look what happened when you and Vecchio tried to go to your cabin that time. Look at what happens just about anytime we travel. It's like we're doomed to get kidnapped or mugged or..." The words stuck in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't finish, couldn't find any way to say what he really feared. Fraser's unexpected touch startled him and he jumped. "What?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I just don't like traveling if I'm not carrying."

Fraser wrapped his arms around him and drew him into a hug. "We'll be fine, Ray."

Sighing, trying hard to relax, Ray failed miserably. "I don't mean to be this way, all crazy and nervous, but I keep thinking that I'm going to wake up and you'll be gone, vamoosed back to Canada all by your lonesome. Hell, I wouldn't blame you if you pulled a getaway, not with me being such a pain in the ass."

"There's no need to be nervous, Ray. People travel back and forth to Canada all the time. We'll go through Edmonton, have a slight layover, and then head on to Yellowknife. Alan's going to meet the plane and then take us to the RCMP station. We'll pick up a vehicle there and any other gear or extra food that we need. The cabin's about fifteen minutes north of the city."

"So, when do you think we'll get there?"

"If we're lucky, without delays, by late tonight."

"And if we're not?"

"Sometime tomorrow or Monday."

"Two days? It could take two days to get there?"

"It shouldn't. I'm just saying it depends on the weather. Right now the extended forecast looks promising."

Ray took a deep breath and met Fraser's eye. "So, if we get delayed, we'll be camping out at the airport?"

"Yes."

"You think we could make out in the men's rooms in Canada without getting arrested?"

Caught off guard, Fraser laughed out loud. "Ray, be serious."

Ray hugged his middle and rested his head on Fraser's chest. Fraser smelled so good, like leather and pine mixed with fresh cotton. He sniffed and then rubbed his face against his flannel shirt. "I am. I don't think I can keep my hands off you that long." He growled deep in his throat. "In fact, if Frannie doesn't get here soon, I might have to get a Mountie fix before we take off."

The door buzzed and Ray shook his head, cursing Frannie's lousy Vecchio timing.

Ray paced back and forth in front of the row of plastic seats of the Edmonton airport while Fraser read a local newspaper. He had a splitting headache. He hated waiting, wasting time, being stuck. Taking a deep breath, he made another circuit near the windows, shaking his head, wanting like hell to be on one of the few planes taking off. He made it back to the seat next to Fraser and sagged down, the chair too hard and too small for a full grown man, even a skinny one. "How much longer?"

Fraser folded his paper and put it in the other chair. "The flight's been delayed. There's no way to know."

"Jesus. We've been here five hours already."

"We could get something to eat."

"Not hungry."

"You didn't eat breakfast, nor did you eat the lunch offered on the plane."

"Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything, Ray, just making an observation." Ray didn't answer, just rubbed his left thigh, the ache much worse than before. "You were limping earlier. Is your leg bothering you?"

"A little."

"You could take some Motrin."

"I could, but I won't, not unless it gets worse."

"Motrin isn't addictive. There's no need to punish yourself by being in more pain than you have to be."

Ray glanced sideways, frowning. "I'm not punishing myself. Why'd you say that?"

"If it's not punishing yourself, then why not use it?"

"Because it makes me drowsy."

"Worse than the Percocet did?"

"Yeah. Weird, I know, but that's the way it works." Ray continued to massage his leg with his right hand. "Don't worry. It's probably just cramping up because of those tight seats we were in. No place to stretch out."

"That's certainly a possibility." Fraser sat quietly, his hands folded together in his lap, his face drawn from the strain of flying. "Traveling is faster now, but it's not always easier."

"That yakketty-yak lady and her kid from hell that sat behind us didn't help. Kid needed a good kick in the head."

"Now, Ray, you know you'd never really kick a child."

"No, but that doesn't stop me from thinking about it when they act like brats." Ray snorted to himself. "Man, I can remember me at that age. God, I was a wild child, always running around, playing cops and robbers, shooting up the trailer. My mom used to bribe me with chocolate candy and cookies just to get me to sit still for a few minutes."

Fraser turned his head, appalled. "But, Ray, chocolate can lead to even more hyperactivity."

"We know that now, Fraser. We didn't know that then."

"Good Lord, your dear mother."

"Yeah, I know. She put up with a lot. I was a handful."

Fraser smiled, his voice lower, more sexy. "You're a handful now."

Ray met his eyes, smirking. "Only a handful?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Fraser shook his head, chastising himself as well as Ray. "No, we can't start. We're in a public place and we might be boarding soon."

"And you don't want to fly with a hard on?"

"Ray, language."

Ray motioned to the immediate area around them. "Look, Fraser, we're practically alone here, and I get the feeling that even if we weren't, nobody around here would care."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, nobody batted an eye at that lesbian couple a few seats up from us on the plane."

"Lesbian couple?"

"You know, the redhead and the blond, the ones holding hands?"

"They might have been sisters."

"On Mars maybe. Fraser, they were feeding each other and having a really good time doing it. If they were sisters, then I'm Yogi Bear."

Fraser nodded reluctantly, conceding the point. "Even if they were, as you say, lesbians, Ray, that doesn't mean people here are more accepting of public displays by homosexual couples than in Chicago. In general, I've noticed people are less likely to react in a negative way toward lesbians than gay men."

"That's true, but still, it got me to thinking."

"About what?"

"About how I want it to be like that for us someday." Ray turned in his seat slightly. "Wherever we end up, I want it to be okay to hold hands in public, to show affection, to kiss like regular couples do. I don't want to go through life worrying about getting bashed and hiding who we are, hiding how important we are to each other."

Fraser reached over and took his hand and sighed deeply. "I want the same thing, Ray. Hiding seems so dishonest, disrespectful to our love, but I'm still not convinced that revealing our relationship at this point is the right thing to do."

"Well, it's not as long as I'm Vecchio, but I'm telling you now, Fraser, when he comes back, I need that to change."

"As do I."

Ray squeezed Fraser's hand and grinned. "Okay, okay. We're on the same page here."

"It would seem so."

Ray noted a slight hesitation. "What?"

"It's just that we don't know how much longer that will be. It's like we're suspended between secrecy and being allowed to be open. It's very disconcerting."

"It's a pain in the ass. It's like we're on hold as long as the Feds keep Vecchio on a leash."

"I believe I just said that."

"Just wanted to make sure."

Before Fraser could reply, the announcement for boarding their plane to Yellowknife came over the intercom, first in English and then French.

"How do you say about fucking time in French, Frase?"

Fraser didn't bother to answer as they both got up and headed to the line.

"Sure is snowing up a storm."

Fraser looked over and smiled patiently. "Yes, it does that here."

"No shit." Ray stared out the window of the SUV and shook his head. "So, how long have you known Alan?"

"We met during my brief assignment at Moose Jaw."

"Moose Jaw?"

"Yes. It was his first posting."

Ray nodded, keeping his voice even. "So, you two ever get together?"

Fraser frowned. "Hardly. Alan's married with two children."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Perhaps not to some, but it does to me. Besides, I told you before with whom I've had relations."

"I know, I know. It's just, well, he seemed so, I don't know, friendly, almost too friendly."

"Are you jealous?"

"Me, no way. I'm just curious about what the deal is. The guy looks about ready to come when he sees you and he's falling all over himself to be accommodating. He gives us his cabin and already has it stocked and ready."

"He's a good friend."

"That's all?"

Fraser kept his eyes on the road, but the irritation strained his voice. "Aren't I allowed good friends?"

"Well, yeah, I didn't mean it like that. I just, hell, I don't know what I meant. Forget it. I'm just tired. How much longer?"

"Just a bit." Fraser hesitated before he added, "Alan thinks he's obligated to me for doing my job."

"Come again?"

"There was a rather serious incident in Moose Jaw during a robbery. Alan was shot and taken hostage. I defused the situation and got him out alive. After that, despite my assurances that there was no need, he became very obsessive about doing things to repay me."

"That makes sense."

"Does it?"

"Well, sure. You save a guy's life, he kind of falls for you, either as a friend or a partner. It works that way sometimes."

Focusing on the road, Fraser nodded. "It would appear so. However, I must confess I feel rather guilty using that feeling to my advantage."

"You mean like accepting the use of the cabin?"

"Precisely, yes."

"Don't. Speaking from experience, it feels good to give things to people you care about. Take my word on this, Fraser, the guy likes you. A lot."

"You're exaggerating, Ray. We haven't seen one another for several years. He was just glad to see me."

"Yeah, I got that. Wife and kids or no wife and kids, if I weren't along, I'm telling you, Alan would be more than happy to show you just how grateful he is."

"Jealousy doesn't become you."

"I'm not jealous, just telling you the truth."

"As you see it."

"Well, yeah, since that's the only truth most of us have."

"Quite."

They stayed quiet for a few more moments, until Fraser turned the car onto a side road.

"We here?"

"Almost. It's up ahead."

"How can you even see anything? Between the dark and this blizzard, I can't even make out the road."

"My night vision has always been above average."

"I'll say."

Another minute and they stopped in front of a small cabin. Fraser picked up a flashlight and handed it to Ray. "Here. This should help until I get the generator turned on and the fire started. The generator's already been primed and the fire laid out, so it shouldn't take long."

"I'll get the bags in."

"We'll both get them in. I'll start the fire first, then the generator. You need to get inside and get warm. You're overtired."

"What about you?"

"I'm tired, too, but this won't take long. Come on. Let's get inside."

Even with the heavy coat, hat, and gloves, the icy wind bit into his skin, made him shiver. Carrying the bag, Ray worked his way up to the cabin, the snow up over his boots, his feet freezing. His leg throbbed and as he stepped up on the porch, he missed and went down hard. Pain shot up his left arm and through his leg. "Shit."

"Ray, are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right. I'm too fucking cold to move." He reached out his right hand. "Help me up."

A strong arm pulled him to his feet as Fraser brushed off the snow. Then he put his other arm around him to balance him as they made it inside. Ray limped over to the sofa in front of the fireplace, allowing Fraser to help guide him. Sagging down, he closed his eyes, the pain in his arm almost too much, like he'd broken it all over again. Swallowing hard, sick to his stomach, he fought back the sting of tears.

A blanket settled over him. "I'll start the fire."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Ray. You're tired and you fell."

"I also hurt my arm again."

"Let me get the fire started and I'll look at it."

"Sure."

It only took a matter of minutes before Fraser had the blaze going, the heat welcome against the damp cold of the cabin interior. Settling beside him, Fraser picked up his arm as Ray groaned and complained. "Ow. Ow. Ow."

"The cast looks intact."

"Ow, Fraser. It hurts."

"You must have jarred it."

"No shit."

"Do you think we should drive over to the hospital and have it checked?"

Ray pulled his arm back, holding it protectively against his chest. "No, I'm just being a wimp."

"You're not a wimp to admit to pain."

Arm still aching, Ray shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Just go start the generator so we can settle in. If I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to do more than fall on my ass."

Fraser pulled off Ray's cap and fussed with his hair, still wearing his gloves, his voice soft. "You'll feel better in the morning."

"Sure, I know. I'm just a lousy traveler. I don't mean to take it out on you."

"I don't mind."

"You should."

"Perhaps I would if I thought you were being petulant on purpose. As it is, I realize we've just spent fifteen hours traveling. I must confess to feeling a bit on edge myself."

Ray glanced over at the double bed at the corner of the small room. "Then go get the generator jacked up and let's hit the sack, the sooner the better. I'm not fit to be around when I get this whipped."

Fraser kissed his cheek and stood up. "It shouldn't take long. There are extra blankets in the chest at the end of the bed."

"Sure. Now go."

As soon as Fraser left, Ray stood up and limped to the bed. He took off his gloves and coat carefully, his body complaining even more with every move. He'd have some serious bruises by morning. He hung up his things on the rack by the bed and then slipped off his shirt. He sat down and took off his boots, set them to the side, and then stood up to take off his jeans. Wearing only his thermals and socks, he pulled back the several layers of wool blankets and crawled in. He took the side by the wall and then waited for Fraser to return.

From outside, he heard the sputter and hum as the generator started. At least they'd have lights in the morning. Closing his eyes, he listened to the crack of snow, the wind whipping through the trees, all the sounds he couldn't hear at home. Whoever thought nature was quiet had never been to the wilds of Canada.

Fraser's boots stomped on the porch before he opened the door and came inside. He latched the door shut and stepped closer to the bed, the glow of the firelight making him even more handsome than before.

Ray talked quietly around the lump in his throat. "Hey."

Fraser smiled, his whole face warm and radiant with joy. "Hey. Welcome to Canada, Ray."

"Thank you kindly. You didn't have to go to all the trouble to make it a winter wonderland, you know."

"No trouble at all." Ray waited impatiently as Fraser removed his hat, gloves, and then jacket. "Would you like something to drink, Ray? Alan said the pump's already been primed."

"No, thanks. I just want you to hurry up and get in bed."

"Ah, well, that can be arranged." Lickety split and Fraser stripped down to his red long johns. He lifted the blankets to slide in, his body like a furnace against Ray. He snuggled in closer, wrapping his arms around Ray's body.

"Feels good."

"Yes, it does." Fraser lifted his head. "Did you take your medicine?"

"Yeah, back in town while you and Alan were catching up on old times."

Fraser frowned and shook his head. "Alan's a dear friend, but there's really no need to be jealous, Ray. I hope you know that by now."

"I do."

"You don't sound convincing."

Ray turned on his side, ignoring the complaints from his arm and leg. He nuzzled in against Fraser's neck, his voice a whisper. "I know he's not your type."

"My type?"

"Yeah, you know, a Yank with experimental hair type?"

"Oh, that type. Indeed, he's not, not even close." Fraser kissed him on his forehead and then pulled the covers up. "We should probably eat before we go to sleep."

"I'm not moving and if you try to get up, I'll crack you in the head with my cast."

"Enough said. I'll stay put."

"Smart Mountie."

Ray groaned with discomfort and rolled over in the empty bed. "Fraser?"

"Here, Ray."

Opening his eyes, Ray blinked several times to clear his vision. Without his glasses and in the low light it was hard to see, but he made out Fraser kneeling by the fire. "What time is it?"

"It's still early, five o'clock. I needed to work the fire."

His head dropped back to the pillow as he pulled the covers up around his neck. Not only did the cold make his bones ache, the fall from the night before made his arm and leg bitch even more than usual. A few moments later, Fraser opened the chest at the end of the bed and pulled out a huge blanket. "My goodness, look at this."

"What?"

"It's a down comforter."

"Toss it over and get back in bed. I'm freezing my ass off here."

Fraser put the comforter over Ray and the crawled in beside him. "I wasn't expecting that."

"What?"

"The comforter."

Ray turned his head, looking at Fraser's plaintive expression. "Why's that a big deal?"

"Usually Alan keeps the cabin stocked with only the standard issue wool blankets. The comforter is a personal extravagance."

Ray tensed. "How do you know that?"

"I stayed in the cabin once before when I visited."

"Did you tell Alan you were bringing someone with you when you called?"

Frowning, Fraser turned on his side and lifted his head, resting it on an upraised hand. "Why do you ask that?"

"Did you?"

"Actually, no. When I first called, I just told him I needed to come up for a few weeks and he offered me a place to stay."

"Mystery solved."

"What are you talking about?"

"Fraser, I know you don't want to see it, and it really doesn't matter to me since I know you'd never do anything about it, but Alan didn't expect you to be using this bed without him."

His expression darker, Fraser let his head fall back against the pillow. "I'm a fool."

"You're not a fool, Fraser."

"I must be. I never even suspected."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Not at all."

"Your gaydar must have a short in it."

"So it would seem."

Ray rolled over and drew Fraser closer to him, kissing his neck, taking a deep breath. His lover smelled of wood smoke and freshly fallen snow. His cock woke up and begged for an early start. "It's okay. He'll get over it. He knew the score as soon as he saw me and he handled it fine."

"But I'm usually better about seeing the signs."

Thinking about his own slow revelation about Fraser, Ray whispered, "Well, we all miss sometimes."

Fraser moaned and closed his eyes as Ray licked his jaw. "Do that again."

"No problem." Ray ran his tongue up the side of Fraser's face, pleased with his lover's involuntary shudder. He shifted, wanting to kiss him, but grunted in pain as his arm and leg refused to move without a fight.

"What's wrong?"

"Just a little sore."

"From the fall?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Fraser nodded and then sat up, moving out of the bed just long enough to strip off his red long johns and then get back in. "Let me do the work." He pulled Ray up and forward enough to take off the top of his thermals before removing the bottoms. Pushing Ray onto his back, he straddled his middle. The covers dropped off, the cold air of the cabin a huge contrast from all the body heat in the bed.

Falling forward, Fraser captured his mouth, kissing him deeply. His thick tongue explored and probed, stealing the air. Ray didn't care, his body turned on, running wild with the thought of all the things Fraser might want to work at.

Pulling back, Fraser smiled wickedly and then turned around, his back to Ray. He moved the blankets out of the way and then kneeled on all fours, his ass and cock in Ray's face, his head aimed at Ray's crotch. Ever so slowly, using his forearms to balance himself, he lowered his body and head so that he could tongue the tip of Ray's cock. All the while his own dick stood out, needy and wanting attention. Ray moaned with pleasure when Fraser took him in that mouth, his tongue making the pressure work, sending delicious shivers all through Ray's balls, up his spine.

Despite the wonderful distraction of his own cock being sucked, Ray reached out and strained his neck to get a taste of Fraser. The bitter tang washed over his tongue as he held it steady and let it slide between his lips. Fraser thrust carefully into his mouth, all the while keeping Ray's cock prisoner, attacking with a deadly rhythm. It drove him crazy to be fucked in the mouth and to be tormented by Fraser's uncanny ability to know just when he might come and then to change his movements just enough so he wouldn't. Pissed at being forced to wait, Ray cranked up his own efforts, making sure to lick and lap Fraser like he'd never been licked and lapped before. A whimper along with a more urgent attempt on Fraser's end rewarded Ray for his efforts. Not the least bit fancy, but very effective, Ray spit on his index finger and then slipped it into Fraser's hole, making sure he didn't get a chance to pull away.

Fraser gasped, coming in his mouth, the spill warm and spiky at the back of Ray's throat. After a few moments, Fraser slipped out of Ray's mouth and doubled his pace. Air thinned to nothing as Ray's head fell back, his mind reeling with pleasure. Wet heat streamed up his middle, his cock and balls exploding all at once. Convulsing, Ray screamed Fraser's name as his lover used his tongue and lips to suck him completely dry. His right hand grabbed Fraser's thigh, his hips arched upward. Tears rolled down the side of his face as he closed his eyes, reveling in the release, in the completion, in being truly intimate with Fraser.

Turning, Fraser shifted over, lying beside him again and pulling up the blankets and comforter. He kissed him, smiling and ahhing into his mouth. "You taste delightful, Ray."

"It's Canadian. Like it?"

"Almost as much as the American brand." He kissed him again and then snuggled in closer.

"And you were afraid I'd get bored."

Fraser laughed quietly, his quick breaths a tickle and tease to Ray's neck. "It appears I might have been mistaken."

"Can I have that in writing?"

"What?"

"That you were wrong. I mean, it's an historic event. I want a permanent record."

"Well, it's still early. We've got two weeks to prove me right."

Ray thought of all the great ways he could use Fraser's mouth and ass to prove him wrong. "That a challenge?"

"Might be."

"A double dog dare?"

"A what?"

"You know, a bet you can't back away from, one that's a matter of saving face?"

Fraser wrapped his arms around Ray and pulled him closer, his hands cupping Ray's ass as they lay cock-to-cock. "Actually, I'm going to do my best to make sure I am wrong."

"Stacking the deck in my favor, huh?"

"If need be."

Ray sighed happily as Fraser kissed the side of his neck, sucking enough to leave a mark. "Isn't that cheating?"

"Mounties never cheat, Ray."

"No?"

"No. We merely make sure the right side perseveres."

"You cheat." Ray closed his eyes, all dreamy as Fraser kissed all over his face and then back to his neck again. He drowned in the sensation, Fraser's tongue like magic, making his whole body melt in his lover's strong arms.

"I don't want you to be bored, Ray, never bored, not with me."

"Never going to happen."

Fraser pulled back, his blue eyes darker, even more serious. "I love you so much."

"Same here."

Fraser searched his face, finally satisfied. Fraser rested his forehead against Ray's chest, his voice low and still raw. "It scares me sometimes."

"What?"

"This."

"This? What this?"

"This thing between us. I've never felt like this."

"Join the club. I've been scared shitless ever since this thing started." As Fraser tried to pull away, Ray held on tight, keeping him close. "But the joy outweighs all of that fear, Fraser. It's a kickass kind of wonder that makes it all worthwhile."

Fraser relaxed and nodded against his chest. He didn't speak again, but lay there, his breathing slowing, his eyes shut. Ray fingered his dark, wavy hair and realized once again just how damn lucky he was. Gruesome history dimmed when he held his future in his arms.

Warm and toasty, the smell of fresh coffee pulled Ray up from sleep. He turned over in the empty bed and opened his eyes slowly. Fully dressed, Fraser stood at a stove on the other side of the room fixing breakfast. The man never gave up on trying to feed him. "Morning, Frase."

"Good morning, Ray."

"Feels good in here."

"Yes, well, the wood burning stove in addition to the fireplace makes it much warmer than usual. I thought you might appreciate it."

"You don't usually keep it this cozy without me?"

"Not usually, no."

"I'm flattered." Ray lay still for a moment, watching the precise movements as Fraser shifted something around in the skillet. "What that?"

"Pan-fried biscuits and some caribou steaks. They should be done shortly."

"Caribou steaks? For breakfast?"

"They're quite tasty and full of protein." Fraser turned, his voice stern. "Except for some peanuts, you didn't eat yesterday, Ray. You will eat this morning."

Ray didn't want to fight, though the thought of eating a steak made out of some animal he'd only heard of in Fraser's Inuit stories sounded a bit over the top. Still, he was on Fraser's turf now, so he'd try it. "Sure, okay. Biscuits sound good. Got any jelly?"

"No, but there's orange marmalade. I'm also heating some water if you'd like to wash off or shave."

"Heating water?"

"Yes. We have the pump and the drain, but I'm afraid there's no running hot water."

"Speaking of facilities, where's the can?"

Fraser turned, his expression a weird mixture of amusement and concern. "The compost toilet is outside by the woodshed to the right of the cabin or you can use the bucket under the bed."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Shit."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I probably should've mentioned it."

Ray sighed and sat up, swinging his naked legs over the side of the bed. He hurriedly pulled on his thermals and then his jeans, hissing as he moved too quickly. His leg didn't want to move any faster and the fingers on his broken hand throbbed from being swollen again.

Fraser stepped closer. "Ray, just use the bucket."

Ray buttoned up his flannel shirt as fast as he could one-handed. "I'm not using the bucket, Fraser. Hand me my coat and hat."

While he put on his boots, Fraser handed him his outerwear. "You don't have to be so stubborn."

"Fraser, if it's the middle of the night, sure, I'll wiz in the bucket, but right now, I'm not doing that. Plus, there are other considerations here, and I'm not starting my vacation stinking up the place. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now, have that coffee ready and I'll be right back."

Frazer nodded, but held out one more item before he went back to the stove. Ray snatched the toilet paper, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. Damn Mountie brought him out in the middle of nowhere so he could freeze his dick off. "You know if I'm not back in ten minutes, you'd better come get me. I might freeze to the damn lid."

Sheepishly, Frazer apologized. "I'm afraid there's no lid, per se, Ray, just an opening really."

Despite the grim reality of such a statement, Ray shook his head and laughed out loud. "I'm an idiot."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I should've thought about all this. Instead, I just thought about all the great stuff in those brochures with the pretty pictures you've got at the Consulate. You guys ought to be sued for false advertising. Not one mentions having to shit in the woods with the damn bears."

"There shouldn't be any bears about, Ray. Most hibernate at this time of year."

"Miss the point much? Never mind. I gotta go. Keep your fingers crossed that I don't fall in."

"I have every faith in your abilities to survive such an adventure, Ray."

"Yeah, yeah." Ray stomped out of the cabin, unprepared for the bitterness of the wind or the fact that there was still so little light. Not as dark as the night before, but nearly, he looked to the right and spotted his target at the end of a shoveled trail. He didn't know when his partner had time to do it, but he sure appreciated the effort. "Thank you, Fraser."

Moving as quickly as he could, watching his footing, he made it to the toilet and opened the door. One good thing about the frigid temperatures was it kept the smell down. Awkwardly, he pulled down his jeans and thermals, pissing first before sitting down, biting his lower lip so he wouldn't scream when his balls got blasted. Hurriedly, he finished his business and wiped as best he could. Then he covered himself up again, thinking that he would never again complain about cleaning the bathroom at home, never again take indoor plumbing for granted. Hell, this explained a lot about Fraser's long stays in his bathroom. The guy was just making up for lost time.

Grabbing up the toilet paper, he headed back in, more than ready to have some hot coffee. Fraser handed him a mug full as soon as he walked in as he took the toilet paper and put it back on the shelf. "I trust everything went well."

"Everything went fine, but if my dick falls off from frostbite, I'll let you know. Jesus, it's cold out."

"Have a seat."

Fraser directed him to the small table by the stove. Ray took off his coat and hat. "I need to wash up some first."

"Excellent idea." Fraser went to the sink and poured some of the heated water into a big metal bowl before adding cooler water from the pump. He laid out soap, cloth, and a towel. "You can shave after breakfast."

"Sure, that's fine."

Ray quickly washed his hands and then his face. He lifted his shirt and cleaned his armpits and then undid his jeans to do a quick soap and rinse of his crotch and backside. Feeling better, he toweled off, buttoned up, and then got rid of the dirty water. He turned to find Fraser watching his every move. Smiling, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink. "Like the show?"

"Very much so."

"Maybe next time, I'll let you do the honors."

"I'd be more than happy to oblige."

"You're a freak."

"A hungry freak actually. Come sit down and eat. The steak is well done, the way you like your meat cooked."

"And yours is no doubt still bleeding."

"Not at all. With wild game, the food must be cooked thoroughly."

"Wild game, huh?"

Noting his hesitation, Fraser cut some of his steak and ate it. "It's very good, Ray. Please try some. Just pretend it's beef."

Settling in the seat opposite Fraser, Ray picked up his fork. "Does it taste like beef?"

"Not really."

"What's it taste like?"

"Caribou."

As Fraser proceeded to devour his own food, Ray decided to give it a shot. The worst it could do is end up in the bucket. Tender enough to be cut with a fork, he took a bite. The strong flavor reminded him of venison he'd had once, only better, easier to swallow and keep down. "Not bad."

"I'm glad you like it."

"You season this with anything?"

"Salt and pepper and a bit of thyme and rosemary."

Ray nodded, remembering the times he'd used those in his own cooking. "Good job." He picked up a pan biscuit, added some butter, and then some marmalade. Eating the whole thing without talking, he wiped his mouth and drank a whole mug of heavily sugared coffee. "Guess I was more hungry than I thought."

Fraser refilled his drink and then heated his tea with hot water. "Yesterday was a long day. You didn't eat and you didn't drink nearly enough."

"Yeah, well, I can't when I'm worked up. You know that."

"Yes, I know. It's just difficult when I know you need to take better care of yourself."

Ray ate another bite of caribou. "You keep cooking like this and I'll put on the weight in no time. Wonder if you can get this caribou stuff on a pizza."

To Ray's surprise, Fraser nodded and smiled. "Actually, there is a restaurant in town that specializes in moose and caribou dishes. I'm sure we can try them during our visit."

"Moose?"

"It's a tougher, stronger meat than caribou, but when cooked properly, it too can be quite tasty."

"Oh, yeah, I'll bet. Of course, if I were starving, living up here for long, there's no telling what I might eat." Ray turned his eyes on Fraser, his lips thinned into a mischievous grin. "Is it cannibalism if you only eat parts of your partner?"

"Actually, I believe it's got a different name entirely."

"Remind me of that later on today. We might try that out."

Fraser flushed and he shook his head. "You're insatiable."

"Is that like never getting enough, because if it is, then I'm your guy these days." Ray's voice softened. "Seriously, Fraser, I think about you all the time, doing these things to me, me doing things to you. I never dreamed I'd be thinking the stuff I'm thinking."

"And this pleases you?"

"Pleases the hell out me." Ray looked down at his plate, avoiding Fraser's intent gaze. "It's just I didn't think I'd ever be well enough to want this kind of thing, to be with you like this. I thought I was so fucked up, I'd never be happy again, and never with a man, not with someone I could really trust and care about."

Fraser's touch to his hand surprised him, but not enough for him to pull away. "I feel much the same way, Ray. After all my bad choices, I never thought I'd take the chance again. I didn't even know if I could." The words choked and Ray lifted his head, seeing the tear run down the side of Fraser's face. "I cut myself off, numbed myself with my dedication to duty so I wouldn't run the chance of falling in love again. Then you came along and I started feeling again, feeling things I thought were dead inside myself. You resurrected not only my faith and spirit, but my heart."

"God, you say the prettiest things."

Fraser wrapped his hand in both his own. "I mean it, Ray. You saved me from a dreary and empty existence. I didn't even realize how barren my life was until you transformed it."

"How is that possible, Fraser? You did the same thing for me. I thought I was a goner, lost and ready for the great dumpster in the sky, you know? I was so fucked up and fucked over, I couldn't see anything worth living for. You changed all that and even after what happened, you stuck with me. You made me hang in there when it would've been a hell of a lot easier not to."

Lifting Ray's hand to his lips, Fraser kissed it. "I love you, Ray."

Whispering, his throat dry, Ray leaned in closer. "You want to come back to bed and show me?"

Fraser's eyes sparkled as he answered by standing up and moving them back to the bed, a place where they both relied on the other for salvation.

Sunday passed in a blur, a mixture of love-making and sleeping, cuddling, and just luxuriating in being together. Ray spooned in behind Fraser, his arms wrapped around him, reluctant to let go, sad to see Monday morning arrive.

"Ray, I need to work the fire and get more wood."

"Just a few more minutes."

"Ray."

"I know, I know. Too clingy." He rested his forehead against the back of Fraser's neck, still unable to release him.

Fraser shifted in the bed, the mattress dipping as he turned to face Ray. He took his face between both hands and then kissed him deeply before pulling back. "I just need to add some wood. I'll get more later. Give me a minute."

"Not going anywhere."

Fraser kissed him one more time and then rolled over to the outside of the bed. He swung his legs over the side and quickly reached for his long johns and boots. Ray smiled as he watched his lover leave his boots unlaced as he hurried to get over to take care of the fire, tossing on the last log, sparks flying up. Fraser shifted the embers, making sure to have a healthy flame before returning to bed. He slipped off his boots, but kept his long johns on as he slid under the covers.

Fraser pulled him close as he spoke quietly. "I need to get dressed and get more wood in."

"I know." Ray closed his eyes, unable to give up too soon. "Just let me wallow some more."

Chuckling, Fraser kissed the side of his neck. "I think we've wallowed a whole day away."

"Is that what you call it in Canada, wallowing?"

"We have other names, but wallowing will do nicely. I could wallow with you forever."

"Same here." Sighing, Ray pulled back enough to see Fraser's face, but not far enough to lose contact. "You know I could get used to living up here, well, except for the outhouse thing. If we move North, we've got to work on the plumbing situation, because I've got to tell you, it sucks to have an icicle for a dick."

"One gets used to it."

"Hell, you can get used to anything, but that doesn't mean you like it." Running his index over Fraser's whiskered chin, he teased, "Tell me you don't love my bathroom at home."

Fraser's expression turned dreamy. "I must admit it's an exceptional bathroom."

"With a shower and a tub, hot water, and a flushing toilet, it's a great place. Wish we could just blink and have it right here." Suddenly more serious, Ray added, "But to tell the truth, that's the only thing I miss about Chicago, well, except for Turtle and Dief."

"I'm sure Frannie's taking good care of both."

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's just I wish we could've at least brought Dief. He'd love running through the snow. I'd like to see him go wild for a little bit, be a real wolf for a change."

"Oh, he's much the same here as in Chicago, Ray. Diefenbaker is one of those rare creatures who seems to be able to adapt quickly regardless of his environment."

"Yeah, but here he's going for the rabbit instead of the doughnut, king of the woods stuff."

"Yes, he does rather enjoy the chase once he gets the scent."

"And what about you, Fraser? What do you enjoy about being back here?"

Fraser hugged him tighter, his voice deep and husky. "Having you all to myself for one. I must confess, being here fulfills certain fantasies I've had for a very long time."

Ray smiled, his face pressed against Fraser's chest, the strong heart beating against his ear. "You saying you've thought about dragging me off to the snowy wilderness to have your way with me before?"

"More than once, yes."

"I like that idea. Tell me something, Frase, what other fantasies do you have?" Fraser's heart raced and Ray lifted his head, frowning at his lover's serious face. "What?"

"It's nothing, Ray. I don't want to spoil this."

It hit him hard as Ray realized what Fraser wanted. "You want to fuck me."

"Make love to you, yes, but I understand why that won't happen, Ray. You've been very honest about your feelings. I'm very happy with the way things are."

"But you'd be happier if you could do me like I do you, right?"

"I would never ask you do something that you're uncomfortable doing, Ray. Besides, it's too soon. You don't even like me to touch you there. I respect and understand that."

Pulling away, sitting up, Ray rubbed his face several times, no longer warm and fuzzy. "I can't help it. I want to, but I can't. I'm sorry."

Fraser touched his shoulder and squeezed gently. "It's perfectly fine, Ray. It doesn't matter."

"But it does. It's something you want. And it's only fair, since I do you all the time. I mean, you love it, right, me doing you like that?"

"Absolutely."

"And it doesn't hurt?"

"Only at first, but then it's perfect." Fraser's frown deepened. "I didn't mean to upset you. I love making love with you, Ray, and it doesn't matter to me how we do it."

"But it should."

"I don't understand."

"It's like you're being cheated."

"That's just silly, Ray. I've never felt more loved in my life, never."

Ray met Fraser's eyes. "Never?"

"Never."

Relaxing just a bit at the reassurance, Ray swallowed hard, the panic slowly subsiding. "I'm sorry."

Fraser wrapped his arms around Ray's chest and drew him into an embrace again before pulling up the covers. "There's no need to be sorry."

"Feels like it. I wish I could do more, but I can't. I just can't."

"I know."

They remained quiet for several long moments before Ray finally spoke. "So, what do you want to do today?"

"Well, I thought we might take a tour of the town. There are several people I'd like you to meet."

"Guess I need to shave then."

"If you'd like, I could shave you."

Ray relaxed some more, sighing. "Yeah, yeah, that should be okay. As long as I keep my eyes closed, I can do that."

Fraser kissed his forehead. "You know, Ray, if you wanted to move to a place in town, we could. There are several very nice places where we could stay and they all have inside plumbing."

"But you'd hate that and it's expensive."

"That doesn't matter if it's what you want."

"It's not, not really. Sure, I wouldn't mind a shower and hot water, not to mention a toilet that doesn't freeze my balls off, but, hey, I'm not giving up the rest of it."

"Rest of it?"

"Being with you, out here all alone, just the two of us doing what we want, when we want. What's a little frostbite and sacrifice to hygiene compared to all that?"

"I see your point." Fraser dipped his head and sniffed deeply. "Besides, I love the way you smell, Ray, bathed or not."

"Major freak on the loose here."

Fraser didn't bother to tease back, but simply licked along Ray's collarbone and then slid down to greedily suckle his nipples. Ray gasped and surrendered, drowning in every touch of his lover's mouth.

"Constable Benton Fraser, get your ass over here."

Ray took off his heavy coat and hat, putting them on the hooks by the door. He nervously tried to tame his wild spikes as a large, dark-haired woman proceeded to accost his partner. She grabbed Fraser by both arms and pulled him into a hell of a bear hug. Ray smiled when he realized Fraser returned the embrace, but had flushed bright red from the unexpected attention.

Once she released him and stepped back, Fraser removed his Stetson and bowed. "It's good to see you, too, Mimi."

"McClain said you were back in town. Damn, it's good to see you. It's been way too long. Jeremy's almost twelve." Mimi's brown eyes spotted Ray. "And this must be the good-looking Yank I heard about." She held out a hand to a suddenly self-conscious Ray. "The name's Mimi LeBeau. Might be old and grey before Benton here introduces us."

"Ray Vecchio. Pleased to meet you."

"Vecchio, huh? With that coloring, your folks must be from the north part of Italy."

Fraser interrupted and changed the subject. "Ray's my partner from Chicago. We're here on vacation."

"In the middle of winter?" She eyed Ray's cast and recently scarred throat before holding up her hand. "Never mind, not my business. You two take a booth and I'll bring over a menu. You want tea, Benton?"

"Tea would be lovely, and Ray likes coffee." He paused and added, "And if you've got some Smarties at the counter, bring those over as well. He likes chocolate in his drink."

She thumbed the side of her nose. "Sweet tooth. Gotcha. Take a seat. I'll bring it right out."

They walked to the open booth at the back of the cafe next to the window. "Local character?"

"One of many." He motioned for Ray to sit as he slid into the booth. It took Ray a little longer, wincing as he had to use one hand to move his stiff leg. "Is it still bothering you?"

"Yeah."

"I'll change the bandage and check it again as soon as we get back to the cabin."

"It's fine, Fraser. Don't worry about it. It's just bruised up some from the fall. It'll be fine."

Fraser didn't look the least big convinced as he nodded toward Ray's bloated fingers at the edge of his cast. "Your fingers are discolored and swollen, too. Is your arm still hurting?"

"Some."

"Perhaps while we're in town, we'll swing by the hospital and have a doctor check it out. You might have done some damage with the fall Saturday night."

Ray wiggled his fingers, then touched each one with his thumb, causing just a steady ache in his wrist and his lower arm. "I just need to move them more. Do the finger exercises the doc wanted me to do."

"The exercises don't seem to be helping."

Ray shrugged. "If it's not better in a few days, maybe, but not now."

Mimi brought a tray with the water, tea, coffee, and a box of Smarties. "Here you go." She gave them the menus and smiled at Ray. "If there's anything on there that you don't know about, ask your partner here. He's had just about every dish we serve at one time or another."

"How's that? He a regular?"

"You think I greet all the Mounties with a hug like that?" Before he could answer, she smiled good-naturedly. "Yeah, Benton here came in on a regular basis that last time he stayed in town." She turned her attention back to Fraser. "Where's Diefenbaker?"

"He's staying with a friend."

"That's a shame. I would've liked to give him a big soup bone. I know how he loves those."

"I'll be sure to let him know you asked after him."

Smiling, she tapped the menus. "Take your time. Everything's good." Then she winked at Fraser. "And remember your money's no good here, Benton, for you or your friend."

"Mimi, please. That's very generous, but not necessary."

Her voice choked slightly, her face suddenly more red. "No please about it. You know I won't take your money, not after what you did."

Graciously, Fraser accepted. "Understood. Thank you."

As soon as she left, Ray leaned in, his voice low. "What did you do?"

"It's a long story."

Ray snorted as he lifted up the menu. "I live for long stories. Bet she's Inuit, too."

"Actually, she is on her mother's side."

"Figures."

"I'll tell you about it later, Ray, but not here."

The serious tone caught Ray's attention. Something bad must have happened and Fraser didn't want to discuss it in public. "Sure, no problem. So, what's good here?"

"As Mimi said, it's all quite good, but I'd say based on your preferences and your sensitive stomach, you should stick to the Caribou stew or Moose burgers with cheese. The burger comes with home-fried potatoes and some onion soup."

They both sounded pretty exotic for Ray's tastes. "What are you having?"

"I think I'm going to have a small rack of caribou with mint sauce and some buttered turnips. I think a lichen salad with pine nuts will go nicely with that."

"What, no blubber?"

"I think that's for dessert."

"You really like eating that stuff?"

"Do you really like eating pineapple pizza?"

Ray grinned and turned his attention back to the menu. "I get your point. To each his own. Besides, I figure you grew up eating this stuff. Guess I'm lucky you're not craving some roasted bear or musk ox or something."

"Actually bear can be quite tasty. Properly preserved, one bear can last a family of four several months. As to the musk ox, well, it tastes tainted no matter how many spices one uses. No one who wasn't starving would even try it."

"But you did?"

"I've tried just about everything at one time or another."

Ray glanced up from his menu and studied Fraser's calm face as his partner stared out the window. "We talking about food or something else?"

Fraser turned his head and met his eyes without wavering. "Both."

"Ah."

Mimi arrived at the side of the table, pad in hand. "I see he's got you doing it, too."

Ray shook his head in confusion, his mind still working out all the meanings to Fraser's comment. "Got me doing what?"

"The ah thing. Don't think we all do that up here in Canada. That's pretty much a Benton thing."

"Now it's a Ray thing. Bugs the hell out of him."

"Turning the tables, eh? That should get his goat." She smiled with her tease and then put her pencil to the pad. "So, you two decided?"

Fraser gave her his order and then Ray gave it a shot. "Well, I have to tell you, I'm new to this whole eat the wild game thing, Mimi, so bear with me. I've got a trick stomach. You trick it and it tricks me, got it?"

"So you want something mild and not too spicy, right?"

"Right. Now, Fraser here, he recommends the Moose burger or the Caribou stew. What do you think?"

"Those are both good, but still a bit spicy. Why don't I have them fix some baked chicken with either egg noodles or a baked potato and a side salad, made with greens instead of lichens."

"You got regular food here, too?"

"Sure. We don't get much call for it, but some of the local ex-Yanks seem to appreciate it."

"What local ex-Yanks?"

"Chris Frame and Eddie Banks to name two. You'd be surprised at the number of folks who show up here and stay. So, you want the chicken?"

"Sure, sounds good. I'll take it with the potato and give me ranch for the dressing if you've got it."

"Coming up."

Ray handed her the menu, suddenly hungry. He ignored his growling stomach and turned his attention back to Fraser. Dropping his Smarties in his coffee all at once, he spoke quietly. "So, you've tried just about everything on the menu, huh?"

"I think it's important to try new things to find what you like."

"And when you find what you like, do you stick with it?"

"If you're asking if I'm faithful, Ray, I am."

Ray smiled and met his concerned eyes as he stirred his coffee. "I wasn't, but that's good to know."

"So what were you asking?"

"I guess I was asking if you're going to be satisfied with a limited menu."

"You're a banquet, Ray. I don't need a menu."

Ray flushed fiercely as he sipped his coffee and imagined all the mouth-watering dishes he and Fraser could heat up and serve together.

Half the food still on the plate, Ray sat back, held his stomach and shook his head in dismay. "That's enough. Another bite and I'll pop."

"I highly doubt that, Ray."

"I'm stuffed to the gills, Frase, filled to the brim, not a spot left to plug."

Fraser lifted the napkin and wiped his mouth, thoroughly pleased with Ray's effort. "The portions here are rather larger than what you're used to."

"It was good though."

"Indeed."

Fraser continued to finish off his salad as Ray got a tooth pick and worked it around his back teeth, enjoying the quiet ambience of the cafe.

Mimi showed up beside the table, frowning at the food left on Ray's plate. "Didn't you like it?"

"Delicious, Mimi, but I couldn't eat another bite."

"You want a box to take it home?"

Fraser piped in. "That would be lovely, Mimi. Thank you."

"What about dessert? I've got chocolate pie and some fresh jam cake."

Ray shook his head. "Not for me. What about you, Frase?"

"Not today, Mimi. Perhaps before we leave."

"When's that?"

"We'll be here for two weeks."

Mimi smiled brightly. "You're staying through Christmas?"

"Yes. We'll be going back to Chicago on the 27th."

"You got plans for Christmas Day yet?"

Fraser glanced over at Ray, suddenly nervous. "We really haven't discussed that."

"You're both welcome to come to my place on Christmas Day. Everyone would love to see you and you haven't met the twins yet, Jason and James."

"The twins?"

"Susan's boys." Mimi's happy face saddened. "You know her Glenn was killed in that car crash. Now she's on her own and she's had to go to Toronto for the next two months for a job. I'm keeping them for now until she can find something closer."

"I’m sorry to hear about Glenn. I suppose Aunt Grace watches the boys while you're working."

"Yes. She says Jeremy was getting too grown up, so she was glad to have babies to tend to again." She stood straighter. "So what do you think about Christmas?"

Ray watched the indecision on Fraser's face, so he jumped in. "Can we get back to you on that, Mimi? We haven't really firmed up any plans about anything, just playing by ear. This is one of those whatchamacallits, you know where you get away from everything for a while so you can just relax and think about stuff that needs thinking about."

"Like a retreat?"

"Yeah, that's it, a retreat."

"Is that why you two decided to stay in that ice box out in the woods?"

Ray scratched his head, smiling, keeping his voice light. "Well, that was sort of Fraser's plan. Can't beat the price though."

"Sure I can. Like I said, Susan had to go out of town. You two could stay at her place. It's just sitting empty and I'm sure she wouldn't mind, not with the way she feels about Benton. Sure beats staying in McClain's place using an outhouse." Mimi turned her attention back to Fraser. "No pressure here, Benton. I know how you like living in the wilderness, roughing it and the like, but the offers there if you're interested. Now, let me go put this in a box."

Mimi picked up Ray's plate and carried it off into the kitchen, waving to a burly customer just coming in the door. "Be right there, Al. Hold your horses."

Ray grinned and shook his head. "She reminds me of Ma Vecchio."

"Yes, she does."

Fraser's quiet tone alerted him to his altered, suddenly pensive mood. "What's wrong, Frase?"

"We can get our things and move into town today if that's what you want, Ray. I shouldn't have assumed you'd prefer to stay in primitive conditions."

"Don't be stupid. If I didn't want to be there, I'd be in the motel or something."

"But it's less comfortable than a house in town."

"You saying you don't think I can hack it?"

"Not at all."

"Then shut up. I like where we are. Sure, it's cold when I have to go to the can, but so what? Can't beat the romance factor."

"Are you sure?"

"Fraser, you know me. You think I'd stay out there and freeze my ass off just to please you? Forget about it. The cabin suits me just fine. If it didn't, I'd be sure to let you know." He paused and grinned. "Of course, you can remind me I said that when I'm running out to take a leak when it's thirty below."

"What about the Christmas dinner?"

"As long as we get to spend time alone sometime, then that's fine. I’ve got no problem meeting all these folks and getting free food and a festive treat or two. Nothing wrong with that."

"It can get rather chaotic at times."

"Sounds like the Vecchios again. Sure Mimi's not Italian?"

"Quite sure."

"What about you, Fraser? Would it bother you to spend time at her place with the kids and everything?"

"Not at all. I just didn't want you to feel obligated."

"I'll let you know when I feel obligated, okay?"

"Understood."

Mimi returned carrying a brown shopping bag used for take out and put it on the table. "Here you go."

"Thank you kindly, Mimi."

"You're welcome."

"Ray and I have discussed your generous offer for Christmas Day and would be more than happy to accept. When would you like us to come by?"

Her face beamed. "That's great. We're going to eat around two, so noon would be fine."

"We'll be there. Thank you."

Rubbing her hands together, Ray could almost see the plans starting in her head. "This will be great. I'm going to call Aunt Grace. She was afraid you'd leave town without getting a chance to see you again."

"Give her my best."

"Sure will." Happy, she leaned over and patted Fraser's cheek and then quickly did the same thing to Ray's. "Benton, you've got great taste."

Before Ray could ask what she meant, she headed off to another table.

"Oh, dear."

"What?"

"I do believe she thinks we're a couple."

"Smart lady."

"Yes, she is."

"And she sure likes you."

Fraser nodded and slipped out of the booth. He picked up the shopping bag as Ray got up to follow. Stopping at the counter, Fraser took out several bills from his hat and put them in the jar at the check out. Ray read the label, "Donations go to Yellowknife Abused Women and Children's Shelter."

Ray smiled in approval as he got his coat and hat, wondering if the charity had anything to do with why Mimi felt so grateful to Fraser. He shut out those ideas momentarily when Fraser moved in close. "Let me put the food in the car before we go to the Trading Center across the street. I'd like to pick up a few things."

"Sure. We doing anything else while we're in town?"

"I need to stop at the RCMP station to pick up the rifles and the hunting licenses from Alan. Then there's a photo center we could visit or I could take you on a walking tour of the local historical sites."

"It's freezing out."

"I'll take that as a no on the tour then."

"Good guess, though I might stop at the photo center. You think they'd rent me a tripod?"

"For what purpose?"

"It's a little hard to hold the camera steady with one hand. I was thinking of putting up a tripod and seeing if I can get some shots at the edge of that forest line just to the back of the cabin. I saw a couple of Moose and some foxes yesterday morning when I went to the can. If I set something up, I might be able to get some good shots when it's not too dark."

"That's a very good idea, Ray. I'm sure if Cal doesn't normally rent tripods, I could persuade him to do so."

Ray shook his head in amusement. "You know all the guys in town by name?"

"I was here for six months on a substitute posting several years ago. As you probably found in your own work, it helps to know the local businessmen and women."

"That's true." Ray put his hat on and steeled himself for the coming blast. "So, this Trading Center, what are you looking to pick up?"

Fraser pulled open the door, his face calm, but his eyes merry. "This and that, Ray, this and that."

This and that turned out to be a mystery box, one that Fraser refused to let him even touch. "Afraid I'll shake it and figure out what it is?"

"Your deductive skills have always been quite impressive, Ray, so yes, that's quite possibly the reason."

"So whatever's in the box is for me, right?"

"Correct."

"For Christmas?"

"If not sooner."

Ray studied the box still on the counter more carefully. It was about two foot square and eight inches deep with no obvious bulges or markings. That narrowed it down some, but knowing Fraser, it could all be a ruse and the real present might be either very small or not in the box at all. Still, it puzzled him that Fraser would pick up a gift when he usually made all his presents. "Not even a hint?"

"You've had all the hints you need, Ray."

"Uhm, you're no fun."

"I beg to differ."

"Oh, yeah?"

"When we get back to the cabin, I plan to prove the point."

"Cocky Mountie."

Fraser's ears turned slightly pink as he continued to survey the other wares in the Trading Center. "Not here, Ray."

"Not here, what?"

"Not here as in we're in public."

Ray smacked himself playfully in the head for effect. "Right, right, we're pretending to be straight men shopping."

Fraser choked as Gus from behind the counter stepped closer in concern. "Are you all right, Constable Fraser? Do you need a drink of water?"

Holding up a hand, careful not to look at Ray, Fraser shook his head. "No, I'm fine, Gus. Thank you kindly."

"I've got some soda in the back if you need some."

"No, honestly, I'm fine."

Not completely convinced, the older man reluctantly stepped back to another customer at the check out.

"You did that on purpose, Ray."

"What?"

"You know perfectly well what."

Ray shrugged, more than happy to drop the innocent act. "Okay, okay, I'll be good."

"I should certainly hope so. Otherwise, the walk back to the cabin could be rather long and chilly."

Not really annoyed, but not ready to let Fraser get by with such a cheap shot, Ray countered. "You really think Mimi would let me walk out there alone?"

Fraser shook his head with a hesitant, but admiring smile. "I'm sure she would be more than happy to either drive you or keep you at her place until I came to my senses. She would, no doubt, take your side of the matter."

"How do you figure that?"

"She has a weakness for pretty men."

"Then she's bound to take your side over mine." Once again, Ray smiled seeing the effect that his words had on Fraser, who actually got flustered and a bit shy. Ray decided to stop teasing. "I'm sorry, Frase. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I guess it's being so far away from home. It kind of makes me a little reckless and I say things I should probably save for when we're alone."

"I find myself doing the same thing, Ray. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that I would actually strand you in town. I hope you know I'd never really do that."

"I do know that. Besides, you know I'd hunt you down and make you pay out the ass if you even thought about it."

"No doubt. So, do you see anything of interest?"

"I'm not really in the mood to do much shopping, though I do want to come back here before we leave. I need to pick up something for Frannie and Welsh."

"Perhaps we can pool our resources and buy them each something together."

"Good idea." Ray picked up a sealskin cap and eyed it from several angles. "You think Welsh would like something like this?"

"In my experience, I've never seen him wear headgear."

"Yeah, me, neither." Ray put the cap back on the shelf and picked up an dark green, hand-knitted wool scarf. "This is kind of nice."

"For Lt. Welsh?"

"No, for Frannie. I figure for Welsh, we could go with a wallet or a belt or something."

"That sounds very practical, Ray. Would you like to get those now?"

Ray shook his head. "No, later will do. I'm just trying to get an idea of what we can get here. Should we go to the photo shop next or go see about the guns?"

"Perhaps you'd like to go to the photo shop on your own while I go pick up the guns."

"Perhaps you'd like a smack in the head."

"Excuse me?"

"No way am I letting you hang around McClain alone."

"Ray, Ray, Ray, I explained..."

"I know what you explained, and I trust you, but no way, no how, are you seeing that guy without me. Understood?"

Fraser nodded, but his eyes twinkled as he stood a little closer. "Understood. Did you know your eyes get darker when you get possessive?"

"Yeah?"

"They turn a deep greenish blue color. It's very becoming. I'm not saying I condone jealousy, I don't, but I must say, I do like it when you're aggressive sometimes."

"I just know what I want and don't want. I want to be with you and I don't want that Alan guy to get a chance to plead his case."

"Plead his case?"

"Yeah, you know, the wife doesn't understand me, but you do case?"

If they'd been alone, Ray had no doubt that Fraser would've leaned in and given him a long, slow kiss. As it was, he just smiled, picked up his box with a tip of his hat to the clerk, and talked over his shoulder. "Coming, Ray?"

Ray didn't have to think twice.

"You know where the shooting range is, Benton. Why don't I run you two out there so you can test out the rifles?"

Fraser hefted one of the guns over his shoulder and shook his head. "That won't be necessary, Alan, but thank you. We appreciate you going to the trouble of getting the proper paper work lined up and for loaning us your rifles during our stay."

"Yeah, Alan, we appreciate that."

McClain nodded, avoiding Ray's eyes and keeping his attention trained on Fraser. "It was no trouble at all. You know all you have to do is ask, Benton. I owe you."

"We've had this discussion before, Alan. There's no need to feel obligated to me for doing my duty."

"Duty didn't require you doing what you did and I'll never forget it. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here. Thanks to you I'm still breathing. That's not something one tends to let go easily, at least I don't." Alan didn't hesitate long enough for Fraser to debate the point. "So, how are you two enjoying the cabin?"

Fraser glanced over at Ray and smiled. "It's been a bit of an adjustment, but so far we've enjoyed it immensely. Again, I have to thank you for allowing us to stay there."

The tall blond grinned, his dimples even deeper. "It's no bother. Cheri and I, we only go out in the summer. I mean, sometimes I'll go out there alone, just to get away from family life for a while, but mostly it's just empty during the winter."

Ray couldn't help himself. "That would explain the comforter then."

McClain flushed slightly. He stood straighter, his broad shoulders stretching the limits of the fitted uniform. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Cheri made me take it with me last time. She said she didn't like to think of me being all alone and cold."

Fraser started talking before Ray could call his friend a liar. "Cheri doesn't mind your occasional solitary retreats? I would think with two children to care for that she'd prefer to have you home whenever you're off duty."

"Cheri's a great wife, Benton. She understands that sometimes a man just needs time on his own." McClain gave Ray a sly side glance before he continued talking directly to Fraser. "I'm surprised you haven't found a good woman yet. Lord knows there are plenty in town who'd love to make an honest man out of you and I'm sure that Chicago was no different."

Ray jumped in before Fraser could volley. "He doesn't need a good woman to make him honest, McClain. Fraser defines honest."

"Now, Ray, I'm sure Alan didn't mean to suggest that I wasn't."

"No, of course not, I just meant..."

"I know what you meant." Ray leaned in toward Fraser, his voice nearly a growl. "Can we go now?"

"Certainly, Ray." Frowning, Fraser picked up the other rifle. "Thank you again, Alan. We'll drop these back before we leave."

Alan nodded, his voice strained and nervous. "Sure, sure, no problem."

Out the door and at the car, Fraser secured the rifles in the back before he turned to Ray. "You were rude."

"So sue me."

"Ray."

"I don't want to talk about it here. Let's go get the tripod and go home, okay?"

Fraser didn't push it right away. He waited all of five steps before he started again. "He was just making conversation."

"He was rubbing it in, trying to piss me off. He knows about us, Fraser, and he still said it."

"We don't know for sure that he knows."

"Oh, he knows. Trust me on this, Fraser, he knows, and he thinks you could do better."

Fraser knew enough not to argue. Instead, he followed Ray into the photo shop, taking off his hat as soon as he entered. A booming voice greeted him. "Constable Fraser, what a sight for sore eyes. I heard you were back up this way. Good to see you survived the big city."

"It's good to see you again, Cal. How are Angela and the children?"

A wiry man in his late fifties came around the corner, smiling as he pulled out a wallet. "They're all fine. The boys are growing faster than I can keep them in skates and hockey sticks. Check out the latest."

Cal held out the pictures with pride and Fraser studied them. "You'll have your own team at this rate."

"You betcha. That's the plan anyway." Cal put his wallet away and turned his attention toward Ray. "And this must be the Yank you brought back." He held out a calloused hand. "The name's Cal Tyler. Pleased to meet you. Any friend of the Constable's is a friend of mine."

Trying his best to lose the rotten mood still lingering from McClain's comment, Ray shook his hand. "Ray Vecchio."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Vecchio."

"Actually, it's Detective Vecchio. Ray works for the Chicago Police Department."

Cal looked at Ray more carefully, his eyes narrowed and more appraising. "Tough job."

"Sometimes. Fraser helps. He's my partner."

"They let you guys do that, work together even though he's Canadian?"

"Sure. Fraser's good. We know talent when we see it."

Cal grinned. "Yeah, he is good." He turned his attention back to Fraser. "So, what do you need?"

"Ray here wanted to see about renting a tripod."

"Sure, I can do that. What kind of camera are we talking about?"

Ray told him and Cal nodded. "I've got just what you need. Give me a minute. I have to dig it out from the back. Not much call for it this time of year."

As soon as he left, Ray scanned the shop. His sight settled on a counter of art supplies. He stepped closer, running his hand over the sketchpad.

"You should buy it. You could use some of your time here to do some drawing."

"It'd just be a waste of paper."

"On the contrary, I like your work, Ray. Go ahead."

"I guess I could just get one of these little notebook thingabobbies and some pencils."

"A sound choice."

Ray got a set of regular drawing pencils and then on impulse grabbed some coloring pencils, too. He put them on the counter just as Cal returned carrying a tripod. "This should do the trick. I use this one myself. Now, keep in mind, if you've not shot anything up here in winter, you can't leave your camera mounted like you could other times. The film freezes and then you get nothing but foggy prints, that is if the shutter doesn't freeze on you first. Then you're screwed."

"What about processing? You do that here or send it out?"

"I can do it here. Twenty-four hour service and color film costs a bit extra." Cal put a small booklet on the stack of Ray's things. "This is a list of prices. Plus, I can do oversized work and mounting, too, if you're interested. I do custom framing, but that takes longer."

"Cal does excellent work, Ray. His own photography is hanging in the visitor's center and is used in some of the Canadian brochures you've seen in the Consulate. He's actually quite renowned throughout Canada."

Ray smiled and cocked his head. "So you're the one responsible for making me think that Canada was nothing but pretty."

"It is pretty. It's just sometimes people forget how damn cold pretty can get."

Fraser and Cal shared a heartfelt, Canadian chuckle and Ray just shook his head. "Okay, okay, you've got me. So, how much for all this and the rent on the tripod for two weeks?"

Cal added up the total and gave it to Ray, who awkwardly pulled out his wallet one-handed, refusing to let Fraser help, either with the payment or getting to his funds. He counted out the money and waited for his change. While Cal handed it back to him, the older man asked, "So, you like to draw in addition to taking pictures?"

"To tell the truth, this is just a trial. I haven't drawn anything since I was in high school."

"Now, Ray, that's not exactly true. You draw all the time."

"I doodle, Fraser. That's not drawing."

"Still, it's very artistic and expressive."

"Yeah, well, we'll see if you still say that after I draw you looking like Gumby a few times."

"Gumby?"

"Never mind. Grab the tripod and I'll get the bag."

"Certainly, Ray."

Cal shook his head in amusement and stepped to the door to hold it open for them as they left. "You two have a good day. Can't wait to see what you shoot, Ray, as long as it's not Fraser."

Ray laughed and headed to the car while Fraser tilted his hat in farewell and walked right behind him on the narrow part of the sidewalk, more than happy to take up the rear and sneak a peek at the view.

They made it all the way home before Fraser started. "We need to talk about what happened."

Ray put his package of art supplies on the table while Fraser put the bag of food and his box right beside it.

"What's there to talk about?"

"A great deal. There was no need for you to be rude to Alan. He is, after all, our host."

Ray didn't answer right away. He took off his coat, gloves, and hat before he sagged down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Shivering, he pulled a wool blanket around his shoulders before he took off his boots. He brought his knees up, putting his feet on the cushion and under the cover. "Start the fire and we'll talk about it. Right now my thoughts are too cold to make any sense."

Starting the fire took several minutes. After a while, the flames put out some serious heat and Ray relaxed as Fraser took off his own coat and hat. He sighed as he sat down next to Ray. "You surprised me."

"Shouldn't have. You know I don't take shit unless I have to."

"Ray, I don't understand. What did Alan do to bring on such a hostile reaction? I was there and I didn't see it."

"That's the point, Fraser, you didn't see it. You didn't see it because you didn't want to see it, still don't want to see it. I mean, you're the guy who knows how much a pound of nails weighs on Pluto, but you've got no idea what this guy is really about. It's right under your nose, but you don't see it."

"I'll admit that you've got a much better eye for these things than I do. It still doesn't excuse rudeness, not unless you're directly challenged."

"What do you call that bit about you needing to find a good woman?"

"He was just making conversation."

Ray shook his head in frustration. "See, see, that's what I'm talking about. You don't get it. You didn't see the look he gave me right before he said it, that look that let me know he was making a point, a point that said you need to find somebody other than this loser from Chicago."

"I think you're overreacting."

"So I'm overreacting. Wouldn't be the first time. I don't like the guy and I'm not going to let him say shit like that in front of me and let him get away with it."

"Could you at least try to be civil?"

Ray's voice took on a harder edge. "Civil? You want me to be civil?"

"He is a fellow member of the service and a friend. Whether he's attracted to me isn't really important. I love you. I'd just like for our stay here to be as pleasant as possible without the strain of worrying that you're going to threaten him with bodily harm at some point."

"You don't think I could take him?"

Fraser's lips thinned into a small smile. "I'm sure you could. I've seen you both fight and, despite the obvious weight difference, there would be no contest."

"Because I fight dirty?"

"Exactly."

Still wrapped in his blanket, Ray shifted and leaned back against the corner of the sofa, keeping his eyes on Fraser. "Okay, okay, I promise to try to play nice, but if he pushes it, all bets are off."

"Understood."

"So, tell me about Mimi. What happened?"

Fraser's expression changed dramatically, frowning as he took a deep breath. "It was one of the most difficult situations I've ever encountered."

Ray sat up. He knew that had to mean a hell of a lot considering all the things Fraser had survived. "What?"

Settling back, Fraser turned his body to face Ray, his muscles tense and his voice strained. "Her husband Jerome suffered from a bipolar condition that, when treated, could be managed fairly well. Unfortunately, he often failed to take his medication and compounded the problem with drinking alcohol."

Ray didn't interrupt, just let Fraser tell the story the way he needed to tell it. "One night, January fifth, he came home inebriated. His abuse escalated to the point that he had a gun to Mimi's head. He threatened to kill them all, including their son Jeremy."

"Shit."

Fraser didn't react to the curse, just kept talking slowly, his eyes trained on the fire, but not really seeing it. "I must confess that I responded to the call truly believing that I could persuade him to hand over the gun and surrender." Fraser swallowed several times and took a deep breath. "I sometimes dream about what happened that night. I dream that I manage to get to him in time, to keep him from shooting himself in front of his wife and child, but I never do."

"You saying he shot himself?"

"Yes. There was nothing I could do. I got him to lower the gun long enough to allow Mimi and Jeremy to get behind me. I didn't, however, convince him to give me the gun."

"You did what you could. You saved Mimi and her son."

"Yes, but it's still difficult to think about what happened. I looked into his eyes, Ray, and I'd never before seen such torment. He wanted to die and sometimes I wonder if I really did everything I could have to stop it."

"What?"

"I mean, I sometimes wonder if some part of me didn't want him to find some relief."

"You really believe that, that you'd let someone shoot himself if you could do anything to stop it?"

"Usually no, but sometimes I'm not sure."

"Well, I'm sure."

"You weren't there."

"Didn't have to be. I know you." Ray put his feet on the floor and scooted closer to Fraser, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "There's no way you would've let the guy die if you could've stopped it. No way."

"I'd like to believe that."

"Believe it. Mimi was there and she believes it."

Fraser relaxed, his voice softer. "I kept expecting her to hate me, but she never did. Instead, she's only shown gratitude. She's also dedicated her life to running the cafe to help support the abuse center."

"So something good came out of it."

"Still, Jeremy saw his father kill himself. He was devastated. He refused to talk for several months afterwards."

"That's really rough stuff for a kid. So, what made him start talking again?"

"I'm not sure. I went to see him one afternoon and I was talking to him about my own experience of losing a parent."

Ray studied Fraser's sad expression, surprised by the admission. "You told him about your mom?"

"Yes. I was the same age as he was when she died. I remember feeling incredibly guilty, responsible somehow." The words choked. "I'm not sure what possessed me to tell him that. I'd never told anyone how I felt, certainly not my grandparents or father, but I told Jeremy. He took my hand and told me not to worry, that my mother was probably in the same place as his father, and that neither had to worry about feeling bad any longer."

Ray pulled Fraser into a hug, his own eyes stinging. "Oh, man, Fraser."

"Needless to say, I was quite moved by his innocence and his effort to comfort me."

"Who wouldn't be? So, was he okay after that?"

"He seemed to do very well considering the circumstances."

"What about you? Seeing a guy kill himself isn't easy."

Fraser turned his head, his face just inches from Ray's. "Have you seen it?"

"Once. This guy jumped off a roof before I could stop him. It wasn't like your situation with the wife and kid being there, but it was bad enough."

"Yes, that kind of despair is rather sobering."

"It sucks."

"Succinctly put, but I agree."

Resting his forehead against Fraser's, Ray whispered, "I'm sorry I brought all this up, but thanks for telling me."

"No, it's fine. You're part of my life now. You have a right to know about events that had an impact on me."

"I appreciate that." Ray kissed Fraser's lips briefly and pulled back, his right hand hooking the back of his neck. "Enough sad talk. You want to go to bed?"

"It's only three o'clock."

"Looks dark out to me. Makes me feel like napping."

"Napping?" Fraser smiled, finally realizing Ray's intent. "Ah, napping."

"Right. Besides, if I remember you said something earlier about proving your point about being a fun guy."

"Right you are, Ray." With that Fraser stood, pulling Ray to his feet by grabbing the front of the blanket. He leaned in and kissed him, the pressure demanding, the heat between them as real as Ray ever remembered. Fraser walked him backwards the short distance to the bed.

Sitting on the edge, Ray proceeded to strip quickly, all the while watching Fraser get undressed with record speed. Before he even had his own thermals off, Fraser stood naked, his cock already hard. Fraser helped him to finish taking off his underwear and then slipped them both under the covers, the comforter on top, trapping the rising heat.

Ray moaned as Fraser pressed against him and captured his mouth again, the kisses deep and hungry. After a few minutes of that, Fraser changed tactics, shoving Ray's legs apart. Nips and licks drove Ray crazy as Fraser used his mouth to move along his neck, down over his nipples, over his navel, and finally down to his cock. "Jesus, Fraser."

Fraser didn't bother to answer, merely increased his efforts. His mouth took Ray greedily, his tongue and lips making sure to suction exactly the way Ray liked, the way that brought him off fast and hard. Gripping the sheets, his hips lifting, Ray groaned in pleasure as Fraser sucked him. Sweat trailed down Ray's face and coated his skin as he bucked up time and time again as Fraser brought him to the edge, but wouldn't let him come.

"Fuck, Fraser. Please."

Disregarding the pleas, Fraser persisted in his torture, using his hands to stroke his thighs and belly, his mouth to ride him. Swarming with pressure, Ray cursed over and over, begging Fraser to finish. Too hot to think, too wound up to do anything but pray for release, Ray cupped Fraser's head with his right hand. The dark hair caught between his fingers as he fucked Fraser's mouth, Ray thrust even deeper. Without warning, Ray slammed upward and came, the rush flooding his body with pure heat, with pure honey-colored sprays of pleasure.

Fraser kept sucking, kept licking, and Ray whimpered as his dick delivered even more ripples of heat, spikes of ecstasy he had no right to expect. Sweet Jesus he loved this man.

The world settled from bright to hazy as Fraser stretched out over him, skin to skin, his weight solid and delicious.

Ray laughed, his throat raw and husky. "You call that fun?"

Fraser lifted his head, his eyes twinkling. "What do you call it?"

"Fanfuckingfabulous."

Kissing his nose, Fraser shook his head. "I don't believe that's a word, Ray."

"Then Webster never got a blowjob that took his fucking his head off."

"Well, there you go then. That certainly explains it."

Ray sighed deeply, well aware of Fraser's unrelieved condition. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll do you."

Suckling at Ray's neck, still hungry, still greedy, Fraser bit his skin. "I want you to make love to me, to really fuck me."

Ray hissed at the bite and then whistled as he teased, "Fuck you, huh?"

Breathy words filled his ear. "Oh, yes, Ray, I'd like that very much."

"Fanfuckingfabulous."

Ray woke to humming. He sighed and rolled on his side, watching Fraser stand in his bright red long johns and boots, heating up water at the stove. Relaxed and still a little bit sleepy, Ray enjoyed the view. Fraser's voice pleased him, the rich tenor tones smooth and yet powerful. He closed his eyes and tried to place the tune, some Christmas song, something he'd heard before. "What is that?"

The humming stopped. "What?"

"The song. It's kind of sad, but pretty. What is it?"

"'Greensleeves'". I'm glad you like it. It's one of my favorite songs, too."

"Sing it."

"I thought I was."

"You were humming."

"I didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't. Sing it for me."

Fraser smiled and proceeded to do just that, the melody even stronger now that he didn't have to worry about waking Ray. The whole cabin filled with his partner’s fine voice and Ray took it all in, wondering if he might still be dreaming, might be making all this great stuff up in his head. Who in the world lived like this, tucked away in a remote cabin with a gorgeous singing Mountie all his own to make love to? It had to be a dream, had to end sometime. He hated the thought of ever having to leave and go back to that other world, that other life where life meant dealing with things he didn't want to deal with, ever.

The song stopped and Fraser stepped closer. "Ray, are you all right?"

"You sing nice."

Fraser sat on the edge of the bed, his hand on the comforter over Ray's hip. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Ray, you've got that look."

"What look?"

"That disturbed look you sometimes get."

"Disturbed, huh?"

"Does the song remind you of something unpleasant?"

Ray sighed deeply and turned on his back, his body still covered, his head propped up on a stack of pillows. "No, I like the song and the way you sing it. It's nothing like that. I just can't seem to go with the moment for long. I had it when I first woke up and then I got to thinking."

"Ah, always a dangerous plan."

Ray smiled weakly. "Yeah, I know. Anyway, I got to thinking about how good it is here, even if it is colder than any place has a right to be, and then about how hard it's going to be to go back. It's so good here, just the two of us, you singing, me being lazy, just taking time to make love and feel good again. I keep thinking it's too good, that the better it is, the harder it's going to be to go back. I know it's crazy, that I should just be glad for now, but that's what I was thinking. So, yeah, that disturbs me, the idea that we can't just stay here and live and be happy without shrinks and scumbags and all the other stuff that goes with being Vecchio when I'd rather just be me."

"I understand completely. I must confess to having similar feelings. We have a privacy here that we don't have in Chicago."

"Of course, it helps that neither of us have to go to work. I guess if we lived up here, you'd be out wandering the glacier or something."

Fraser smiled and shrugged. "That's possible, though that would more likely occur further north in one of the more isolated areas."

Ray sat up a little higher, pulling the cover up with him to keep from getting too cold. "You think when you finally come back to work up here, that's where you'd want to go, somewhere even more isolated than here?"

"I really can't say, Ray. Right now, wherever you are is fine."

"For now, but what about later? Where do you really want to end up?"

"Wherever you are, Ray."

"And I want to be where you are, too. So what I'm asking and what you're avoiding answering is where would you like that to be if you get a say in the matter?"

"Ideally?"

"That's what we're talking about, yeah."

"I like to have a posting near my father's cabin in the far north. I know that's not reasonable and it's not something I expect to happen, but ideally, yes, that's what I'd like."

"Why isn't it reasonable? They got a glut of guys who want to work out in the middle of nowhere?"

"No, but it wouldn't be fair to you."

Ray frowned and scratched his head. "Why not?"

"There aren't many employment opportunities. What would you do?"

Shaking his head, the truth of the statement sank in. "Oh. Good point. Guess they don't have much call for Chicago flatfoots in the snow."

"The best scenario to satisfy immigration would be for me to be posted to a town like Yellowknife or White Horse. There could be some security work or there's the possibility of you working as a mechanic, either in someone else's employ or in your own business."

Ray lifted his right arm and put it behind his head, relaxing even further back into the pillow. "Or I could just be a house guy. We could finish building your Dad's cabin. I could fix up the place and take care of Dief, learn to cook, build a shed, take pictures."

"Yes, you could."

Startled by the easy answer, Ray fixed his eyes on Fraser. "What?"

"Seriously, Ray. I'd have no problem with that scenario."

"Seriously? You mean, you wouldn't mind me living off you?"

"I wouldn't consider it living off me when you're spending time building our home and future."

Ray tilted his head, studying Fraser, a small smile forming. "You really see me doing that, being a homebody?"

"I don't think I would have before this, but after seeing you here, I can easily envision it."

"You're the one who has the domestic side."

Fraser grinned. "Well, I would insist on doing most of the cooking."

"No problem, and knowing you, you'd end up doing a lot of the cleaning, too."

"Possibly."

"But the rest of it, yeah, that's a nice picture. I don't see it happening, but it's not such a hard thing to think about, living out in the boonies, worrying about basics instead of city stuff that'll drive a guy crazy."

"I don't think we should eliminate the possibility completely, Ray. In fact, the more you talk about it, the more appealing it is."

"You just want to keep me barefoot and pregnant."

Keeping a straight face, Fraser shook his head. "On the contrary, Ray. Pregnancy isn't in my plans at all."

"Okay, okay, I'll buy that, but what about the barefoot part?"

Patting the bed, Fraser motioned for Ray to move to the edge. "Get up and put on your underwear. I have something for you."

"A present?"

"Yes."

"The box?"

"Indeed."

"Cool." Ray swung his legs over the side of the bed and quickly pulled on his thermal underwear bottoms and then the top. He already had his socks on, so he reached for his boots only to have Fraser move them out of his reach. "What?"

"You'll see. Now stay put."

Ray waited impatiently while Fraser retrieved the box and handed it to him before sitting back down. "I ordered these while we were still in Chicago."

"These?"

"Open the box and see."

Ray took off the lid, his eyes going wide with excitement. "Oh, my God. You didn't."

"I did."

"Mukluks!" Ray reached in and pulled out the traditional, handmade boots. He ran his hand over the smooth brown leather and darker, super soft fur. "They're beautiful."

"I took your measurements in Chicago and sent them to Ari Windwalker. They're made from moose hide for the boot itself, double layers of seal skin for the soles, and beaver fur for the cuffs. She could have done the beading if she'd had more time, but I wasn't sure if you'd want that or not."

"No, they're perfect." Ray turned and leaned in, kissing Fraser and then pulling back. "Help me put them on. I don't know if I can do the lacings one handed."

"Put your jeans on first."

"Sure, sure, that makes sense." Ray put the mukluks down just long enough to pull on his jeans and then sit down again. Fraser helped him pull on the long boots and then laced up the front of each one to right below his knees. Ray stood and shook his head as he stared down in admiration at his new footwear. "They're so warm, it's like I can feel my feet again. This is greatness. Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

Ray sat back down, his voice choked at the thought of all the planning and scheming Fraser must have done to accomplish the surprise. "I'm serious, Fraser. This was real greatness, the best."

"I was more than happy to do it, Ray. You just can't get good mukluks in Chicago." Before Ray could protest more, Fraser cupped his face. "I enjoy doing things for you, Ray. I love you." Leaning in, he kissed him tenderly and drew back. "You're a blessing in my life."

Ray couldn't speak, couldn't form words to say what his heart wanted him to say. Instead, he captured Fraser's mouth with his own and prayed one day he'd deserve the love that his partner gave him so freely.

Ray couldn't sleep, couldn't even keep his eyes shut more than a few minutes without wanting to fly out the door to go running wild in the snow. Pacing drove Fraser crazy, especially in the middle of the night, so Ray tried his best to be still, to be as quiet as he could be, which wasn't easy, not for Ray, not even on his best days.

Settled on the sofa in front of the fire, Ray poured his energy into the sketching, finding that after the first few bad attempts, things started to take shape and look more like what he wanted and less like Dief decided to take up drawing instead of chasing rabbits.

"That's not bad."

Ray glanced up and blinked several times in the low light. "You mean for a Yank?"

"For anyone. The likeness is rather uncanny."

"Thanks. He's easy to draw, easy on the eyes."

Fraser Senior stared down at the image of his son and smiled. "Just like his mother, though she usually wore clothes."

"Yeah, but I like him this way."

"Drawing nudes has its own challenges, but I must admit you have a knack." Fraser Senior moved to stand in front of the fire, holding his hands out to warm them.

"You can still feel heat when you're dead?"

"Not really, but that doesn't mean you stop missing it."

"That sucks."

"It's not so bad. One can still imagine what it was like before and sometimes the power of the mind is far greater than the reality of a situation."

Ray didn't even want to go near that serious thought, so he focused more on the lines of Fraser's thighs, shading in the hollow right at the top of his left hip.

"You've got quite an artistic talent. Why didn't you ever use it?"

Biting his lower lip, working to get the image just right, Ray shrugged. "My dad said it was for sissies. By the time I knew better, I'd moved on, started working as a cop. Didn't have time for it anymore."

"Parents can be cruel without intending to be. I'm sure your father meant well."

"I'm sure he did. Doesn't mean he was right."

"No, it doesn't." Fraser Senior paused. "This place suits you. I told Benton it would."

Ray stopped drawing and looked up. "Can the dead tell the future?"

"Not exactly the future, no."

"What's that mean, not exactly?"

"It means that there are many possible futures. No one has just one path."

"And you can see these paths, all these paths from where you are?"

"No, but I do see some of them. I can sense things, too, things I never realized when I was alive, other people's feelings. It's quite unsettling at times."

Rubbing his face, Ray tried to take that in, take in the idea that some spirit could actually see all the shit ahead, all the different ways he could go to get some place that he might not want to end up. "You guys got rules about telling people about what to do and what not to do?"

"If we do, nobody's bother to mention it. Nobody gives you a guidebook when you're dead, Son. It's like life that way. You just wander around and hope for the best."

"That doesn't seem right. Seems like you live and then you die and you ought to get something better than you had before, you know? You should at least get some kind of pay off for dying."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Then how does it work? Can't you give me some clues about what I should do to make it turn out all right? I mean, if you can see all these paths, can't you just give me a hint?"

"You're here with my son. That's a good start."

"But I can't stay here."

"Not now, no, but perhaps in the future."

"You saying that's one of my paths, one of my choices?"

"Ray, who are talking to?"

Startled, Ray turned to see Fraser sitting up in the bed, watching him with concern. "Your dad."

"My father's here?"

Ray pointed by the fireplace, but found the space empty. "Well, hell, you scared him off."

"Ray, come to bed. It's three in the morning. You haven't slept more than a few hours in the last three days."

"I'm fine. Let me finish this first."

Fraser threw off the covers, slipped on his boots and walked over to the sofa. Standing behind Ray, he looked down at the drawing. "Oh, dear."

Ray laughed and held up the pad. "You like it?"

"Well, it certainly is a good likeness."

"Yeah, you look hot."

Clearing his throat, Fraser blushed bright red. "Whatever possessed you to draw me in such a state of arousal?"

"It's a good look for you."

Fraser reached down and took the pad from Ray's hand and studied the drawing more carefully. "Despite my embarrassment at the subject, this is really quite well done, Ray."

"Thanks."

"No, I mean it. I knew you could draw, but not with this kind of proficiency."

It was Ray's turn to blush. "Thanks."

Fraser leaned over and kissed him before pulling back. "Come to bed, Ray. You need to sleep."

"I can't. I'm wide awake. I might as well use the time for something interesting instead of tossing and turning and keeping you awake."

Petting Ray's hair with affection, Fraser frowned, obviously worried. "I think your medication must have affected your sleep patterns. Ever since you finished taking the antibiotics and the Phenergan, you've been unable to rest."

"Guess I'm making up for all the time I lost when I was doped up."

"But you're supposed to be resting. I don't want you to get overly fatigued."

Ray captured Fraser's hand and drew it to his mouth. He kissed the palm lightly and shook his head. "I'm not going to get sick again, Fraser. I just get like this sometimes. It's no big deal. Go to sleep and I'll try to be quiet."

"This has happened before?"

"Lots of times. I can go days without sleep. It comes in handy on stakeouts."

"But it's not healthy, especially when you're convalescing."

"I'm beyond convalescing, Fraser. I'm good." Ray motioned with his head toward the bed. "Now go on, go back to bed."

Instead of moving toward the bed, Fraser came around and sat down next to him on the sofa. "What were you and my father talking about?"

"He liked your picture."

"Good God, you showed it to him?"

"Hey, I hate to break it to you, but he's less of a prude than you are."

"I doubt that."

"It's true."

"I'm not a prude."

"And Frannie's not Catholic." When Fraser didn't argue, Ray shifted a little closer. "It's weird, his dropping in tonight. He usually doesn't show up unless I'm in trouble."

Fraser's voice lowered, became a hush. "Yes, I know. What did he say?"

"You couldn't hear him?"

"No. Apparently, he chose to only show himself to you this time."

"Double weird. He didn't say much, just that there are no guidebooks for the dead and that there are many paths to different futures. It wasn't very helpful. I kind of hoped that when you kicked off, you got a break, you got a better idea about what it's all about."

"He tends to enjoy cryptic responses."

"He likes to mindfuck, yeah, I get that from him, but it's not like he's mean about it. It's just his way. Was he like that before he died?"

Fraser took several moments to answer. "I really couldn't say."

"Why not? He's your dad."

"Yes, but despite that, I didn't know him very well. Our relationship was very formal, rather distant. I regret we never really got to know one another as friends."

Ray put an arm around Fraser and gave him a quick hug. "Well, look at it this way, not everybody gets a second chance after the old man passes away."

"Perhaps."

"No perhaps about it. It's a good thing, this Mountie ghost thing."

"I have to confess, when I first started seeing him, I thought I was losing my mind."

"I can imagine. If I hadn't been out of my mind already, I would've thought the same thing."

"But that's the thing, Ray. The fact that you see him, too, that changes the whole situation. He's not a figment of my imagination. He's real, but in a way that makes me very uneasy. It forces me to reevaluate my whole concept of the spiritual world."

"Is that harder to do than thinking you need a padded cell?"

Fraser chuckled and turned to face Ray. "Actually, it's a relief."

"You think we'll ever get to see him at the same time? You think he could do that?"

"I know it's possible, but for whatever reason, he's chosen not to do so."

Ray settled back, drawing Fraser closer. "It's kind of neat though, thinking about him looking out for us from the other side. I'm just glad he's cool with us being together."

"Would it bother you if he weren't?"

"Hell, yes. You think I want a pissed off Mountie coming after me from the grave for sleeping with his son? No, I like your dad. He's a little odd, but fair."

"Odd?"

"Like you."

"Ah. Odd as in eccentric."

"Eccentric, Canadian, same difference."

Fraser laughed against Ray's chest. "Come to bed, Ray. I'm tired, and I must confess, I have trouble sleeping alone now."

"Spoiled?"

"Rotten."

"Sure, okay. You'll have to help me take off my mukluks."

Nuzzling his neck, Fraser whispered, "I can help you take off more than that."

Ray chuckled and let himself enjoy the moment, pushing away all the thoughts, all the worries, all the nightmares that lingered and kept him from sleeping.

"Wow, these are pretty good."

Cal Tyler smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "More than good, Ray. They're fantastic." He reached over and pulled out two of the shots from the first batch of color photographs. "Especially these. How the hell did you get those without over exposure?"

Ray studied the pictures of the eagles and grinned. "I fell on my ass and just kept shooting."

"Good job." Cal held up the one with the eagle in mid flight. "This one looks as good as any I've done. You sure you've never done this job professionally?"

Flushing with pride, Ray shook his head. "I just get lucky shots, that's all."

"It's more than that. You've got the eye. People bring film in here every day and I rarely see stuff this good. You should think about sending these off to be published."

"He's right, Ray. These are beautiful."

The awe in Fraser's voice surprised him. "You think so?"

"Yes. I like the eagles, but I especially like the series of arctic foxes right at the edge of the forest. Excellent composition and clarity."

"Well, it helps to have great stuff to look at. The little guys just looked right at me. They didn't seem scared at all."

"Which in itself is rather unusual."

"I could get more good shots if it wasn't dark here most of the time. I can only shoot a couple of hours a day and at short intervals. It gets too cold. Plus, I can use the tripod for some of the shots with the long lens, but like these of the eagles, I had to free hand it. Not easy with one hand, let me tell you."

Cal looked through the second stack of pictures and held up another one. "Bull moose. Not easy to get."

"He was just passing through. Got kind of pissed off, but didn't charge me."

Fraser nodded, frowning. "That was the morning I thought you got frostbite."

"Yeah, well, I didn't. I just can't wear gloves and take pictures."

Cal interrupted. "Look, I’ve got this friend who’s looking for quality nature shots both for his magazine and for a book he's putting together about wildlife of Western Canada. I'd love to send him these. He pays way above the going rate, too."

Ray had to force himself to keep breathing and not lose his smile. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Ray, this is a great opportunity."

Stunned, Ray shook his head, realizing Fraser just had a very human moment. "Fraser, think about it. Vecchio's the name of a detective, not a photographer."

Cal looked honestly puzzled, but Fraser stilled. "Ah. Understood." Fraser turned to Cal, his face suddenly neutral. "Ray's right. This wouldn't be the best time to seek publication. However, we do thank you for suggesting it and offering to help. It was very kind."

Cal looked first at Fraser and then back at Ray, confused. "I don't get it. This could be a big chance. It doesn't mean you can't do your police work, too."

"Well, it kind of does, for now anyway. That's not saying two years from now I might not change my mind." Before Cal could argue, Ray pulled out his wallet while Fraser worked at stuffing the pictures back into the folder. "Look, I need three more rolls of film. How much do I owe you?"

Cal got the film and put it on the counter. "I was kind of hoping to work out a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"I wanted to do a blow up of the eagle picture and put it on display. It'd make a great advertisement. I'll trade you the development costs and the film. Plus, you keep the rights. I just want to use it in the shop."

"My name doesn't go on it and it's a deal."

"Why don't you want your name on it?"

"I just don't. You can tell people if you want, but I just don't want anything in writing."

Fraser stayed quiet and after a few moments, Cal nodded. "Okay, sure, nothing in writing. You Yanks have curious ways."

Ray snorted. "Kettle, pot."

Looking even more baffled, Cal turned to Fraser for translation. "Ray's making reference to the old saying about the kettle calling the pot black, as if to say that Canadians are a curious lot unto ourselves."

"Ah, well, sure, that sort of makes sense." Cal smiled and shrugged. "Can't fault you for thinking that. We've all got strange ways if you look too close."

Ray didn't argue the point, didn't feel like talking about weird ways, not when he knew the real reason he couldn't publish the pictures. "Why don't I leave you the negatives and I'll pick them up when I bring the next batch of film back?"

"That's fine. Christmas is coming up, but I'll make time for anything you want to bring in. Professional courtesy."

"I'm not a professional."

"You should be." Cal held up a hand to keep Ray quiet and grinned. "I'm through with it. You don't want fame and fortune, that's up to you."

Ray picked up his film while Fraser got the package of photographs, including a whole roll of nothing but candid Fraser shots. "Thanks, Cal. It means a lot that you don't think I'm just wasting film out there."

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. Of course, you don't know me well enough to know that for sure. You might think I'm just blowing smoke, but most folks around here will tell you, I don't say stuff I don't mean. You're good. If you want to keep that to yourself, then that's up to you. None of my business. Just let me know if you change your mind. I've been around long enough to know the market and have a lot of contacts. We've been looking for fresh blood."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks." Ray turned his attention to his quiet partner. "Come on, Frase. Let's get these to the car and then I want some of that chicken over at the cafe."

"Certainly, Ray. Mimi will be glad to see you." Fraser tipped his hat to Cal. "Thank you kindly."

"You're welcome."

As soon as they were out the door, Fraser got very serious, speaking quietly as they made their way to the vehicle. "I'm sorry, Ray. I can't believe I made such a careless error."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. If you weren't undercover, you'd have no problem sending those photographs in for publication and getting the recognition you deserve."

"But I am undercover, so let's drop it."

"But, Ray..."

"I said, drop it, Fraser. Please."

"Consider it dropped. For now."

Ray cursed under his breath and waited by the door while Fraser unlocked it. "I changed my mind. Let's just go back to the cabin."

"I thought you were hungry."

"Not hungry enough to put up with this."

"This?"

"You just waiting around to start in again."

Fraser hesitated and took a deep breath. "Very well. I'll let it drop. I won't talk about it again unless you bring it up first."

"Promise?"

"As you wish."

"Cause I got to tell you, Fraser, it's bad enough knowing that I could do something cool like that and make a living at it and have the door slammed in my face because of Vecchio. I don't need you going on like you do about it, too."

"I don't understand, Ray. How do I go on about it, as you say?"

"That way you do, that way where you just keep going, like now. Let's just go eat and don't talk about it."

"Certainly, Ray."

Dropping his forehead against the top of the car, Ray took a deep breath. "I just wish it were over, that's all."

"What?"

"This Vecchio thing. I want it to be over. I want to be me again." Fraser's unexpected hand on his shoulder surprised him and he jerked his head up. "What?"

"Ray, you are you, and this assignment won't go on indefinitely."

"I know. I just get frustrated."

Fraser touched his cheek gently. Ray leaned into the warm contact briefly, but then reluctantly pulled away. "We're in the middle of the street here, Fraser."

"Understood. Let's eat and then go home so we can touch freely."

"You really that hungry?"

Smiling, Fraser headed back toward the driver's side of the car. "Not at all."

Ray climbed in. "Home it is then."

"I miss Dief."

Fraser looked up from his copy of Shakespeare's sonnets. "As do I."

Stretched out on the sofa, his feet up in Fraser's lap, Ray stared at the fire. "Bet he doesn't miss us. Bet he and Ante are having a great time."

"Well, as you know, I'm not one for wagers, but I would imagine that after the first day or so, Diefenbaker missed us as well."

Ray turned his attention towards Fraser. "Why do you say that?"

"Francesca mentioned something about experimenting with Diefenbaker's fur to see if she could match it to Ante's."

Horrified for his wolf friend, Ray shook his head in disbelief. "Ante's a poodle for godsakes. Tell me you told her to forget about it."

"Oh, I did, but you know Francesca Vecchio as well as I do. She is a woman of steely determination."

"Poor Dief."

"Indeed."

Ray sighed, fighting off the image of Dief stuck with a ridiculous cut that would take months to grow out. How many times had he lived through that before he found Lila? Too many damn times. "We should call Frannie and make sure she's not doing anything crazy."

"Diefenbaker will be fine, Ray. Don't worry. He's lived through worse things than a bad haircut. Besides, it's possible she was just ripping my chain and had no real intention of doing such an insensitive thing."

"Ripping your chain? You mean, yanking your chain?"

"Yes, yes, yanking."

"Yeah, she's been known to do that. Let's hope that's true for Dief's sake." Before Fraser could return to reading, Ray sighed deeply again.

"What's wrong, Ray?"

"I think we need a tree."

"A tree? We have a whole forest full of trees."