Voices	Voices

 by grey

  

 Author's website: http://www.e-fic.com/~grey/

 Disclaimer: 

 Author's Notes: Thanks to Xfreak and Bast for their constant support.

 Story Notes: 

 

 

 Voices
 By Grey 

 Fraser's voice, Ray's head, not a good mix and Ray couldn't do a damn
thing about it. 

 Ray lay back, squeezing his eyes shut, listening to the hushed tones of
his partner's voice saying words that Ray knew he'd never hear from the
sweet lips of his Mountie partner. He swam in words he whispered to
himself, using Fraser's voice, the voice of a man he worked with, made
friends with, fought like hell with. 

 Fraser whispered coarse words, sexy words, words like, "Suck me, Ray,",
"Fuck me, Ray,", "Come for me, Ray," over and over. His voice in Ray's
head and Ray's hand on his own dick made it all happen. Whimpering, Ray
did what his voice told him, the images bittersweet, his legs trembling,
sweat rolling down his face, his cock twitching with release and pleasure.


 Afterwards, Ray lay in the dark, ashamed and shaking, wondering when the
hell it all happened, when Fraser's voice replaced Stella's, when Ray
Kowalski got hard just listening to his partner's voice in his head. 

 Then it got worse. The voice started going with him out of the bedroom,
into the station, onto the street, stayed with him all day long. The voice
never let up, talked to him when he least expected. It made him smile or
snort when the world around him just stared and wondered what the hell was
up with that freak Kowalski. Only they didn't call him Kowalski. They
called him Vecchio, Detective Ray Vecchio, a guy he didn't even look like,
didn't act like, never wanted to come back. 

 "Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray..." 

 Shaking his head, Ray turned and stared at Fraser, settling back to the
moment. "What?" 

 "Are you all right?" 

 They walked through the warehouse side by side, Diefenbaker at Fraser's
heels. "I'm fine, why?" 

 "You seem distracted." 

 "Distracted? Naw, just thinking." 

 "About the case?" 

 Ray didn't meet his eyes, couldn't take the chance, not with a sharp guy
like Fraser. His partner knew him all too well to miss lies when he looked
close enough. And that was the thing, the thing that worried Ray the most,
the way Fraser always looked, always checked him out. Case or no case, it
didn't matter. Fraser kept his eye on Ray whenever they were together and
that's when the voice teased him the worst. 

 Scratching his head, Ray tried to focus, tried to make sure he didn't
trip over his own two feet as he avoided like hell all the concerned
glances. "Yeah, I was thinking Macklin might be the ring leader. Johnson
couldn't do anything like this on his own, especially something this
organized. The guy's not the brightest bulb in the pack." 

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Sure I'm sure. Did you hear Johnson talk? Guy's a few steps short of a
full Cha Cha." 

 "I'm not talking about the case, Ray. I'm asking if you're sure you're
all right." 

 Ray didn't stop walking, spying the door to Macklin's office just ahead.
"I'm fine, Fraser. Just got a lot on my plate, that's all." 

 "You know you can talk to me if there's something troubling you, Ray. I
find it sometimes helps to discuss difficult situations." 

 "I feel like talking, I'll let you know. Meanwhile, let's drop it." 

 "As you wish, Ray." 

 Ray knocked and waited a couple of seconds before banging his fist a few
more times against the glass. A burly man about six foot five finally
opened the door and snapped, "Yeah?" 

 Ray held up his badge. "Chicago PD. We're here to see Macklin." 

 "You got an appointment?" 

 Snorting, Ray shoved his badge at the guy's face. "Sure do. Look closer.
Check it out, right where it says, 'I'm a cop,' in big, fat, easy-to-read
letters." 

 Pushed backward, the larger man stepped out of the doorway, but crossed
his arms as he refused to budge an inch further. Ray knew without the
badge, he'd be trading shots with a guy who outweighed him by a good
hundred pounds of solid, hurt like hell muscle. The voice in his head said
to calm down, to take it easy, don't pick a fight. They were just there to
talk to Macklin, not arrest him. Ray glanced sideways at Fraser who stood
calmly beside him, watching his every move, the observation subtle, but
steady. It made him twitchy to know that the voice in his head talked
reason during the day and lowdown dirty at night. He didn't know how to
take it sometimes, most times, anytime. 

 Ray blinked to focus, to keep his mind on track and on the job. "So,
Macklin around?" 

 "He's in the back." 

 "Get him. Tell him it's either here or we'll haul his ass down to the
station." 

 Burly guy didn't look happy. "You pigs got no right to hassle the boss.
He ain't done nothin' wrong." 

 "Then he won't have a problem. Get his ass out here." 

 Reluctantly, the guy left and Ray stood there dancing foot to foot,
suddenly uneasy. With the voice in his head, he found it even harder to
talk to the real Fraser. 

 "Ray, perhaps we should tread a bit more lightly when we talk to Mr.
Macklin. By all accounts, he's got a temper shorter than yours and we've
got no proof that he's directly involved." 

 "What's that supposed to mean? You think I've got a short fuse?" 

 "I'm just suggesting that we try to get the information without having to
resort to threats of physical violence." 

 Before Ray could argue, Macklin walked in the room, his shoulders back
and his mouth tight. In his late forties, dark hair and eyes, the guy
stood tough, not missing a thing. He checked out Fraser first. "You the
Mountie?" 

 "Yes, I'm Constable Ben Fraser of the Canadian Royal Mounted Police. I
first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's..." 

 "Nice dog." 

 Fraser smiled and tugged at his ear, ignoring the abrupt interruption.
"Actually, he's a wolf." 

 "Yeah? Never seen a wolf in Chicago outside the zoo." 

 Diefenbaker growled deep in his throat and Fraser shushed him with a pat
to his head. "I'm sorry. He's rather sensitive about that subject." 

 Macklin frowned, but didn't bother to say anything about the nutty guy in
the Stetson. He turned his attention to Ray instead. "I've heard about you
two, you and your partner here, Vecchio. Hear you're looking for the guy
who's torchin' the warehouses." Then his voice tightened, got angry. "What
do you want from me? I got nothing to do with that shit." 

 "But you know people who might." 

 "Who says? That's bullshit." 

 "Your man Johnson's been seen at the last two crime scenes." 

 "Toby Johnson? A firebug? Forget about it. The guy's got the mind of a
cream puff. Sure, he's good muscle, but nothing upstairs, if you know what
I'm saying." 

 "It doesn't take much of a brain to light a match, Macklin." 

 Macklin stepped behind his desk and sat down. "Look, Johnson's on my
payroll because I owe his old man a favor from way back. You think he's
good for the torch jobs, arrest him, but you'll be wasting your time. He's
just a kid in a man's body. Hell, he probably followed the fire trucks
thinking there was a parade with clowns and cute little puppies." Macklin
hesitated and then leaned forward on his desk, his hands together, his
voice a bit lower. "Look, you didn't hear this from me, Vecchio, but you
might want to look closer to home, like at someone who has ties to the
buildings." 

 "We're looking into that, the owners and the insurance claims, but I
doubt any of those guys actually started the fires. They're not that
stupid." 

 "You mean not stupid enough to get their own hands dirty, to shop it out?
Yeah, maybe, but maybe if you look hard enough, you might find out that
there's someone in the woodpile who likes to burn shit, even since he was
a kid maybe." Macklin stood up, both his hands raised. "I'm not saying
nothing else. Don't ask." He stared directly at Ray. "We done?" 

 Ray and Fraser exchanged quick glances and then Ray nodded. "Sure, for
now." 

 "Look, Detective. I'm not in this. I got nothing to do with burning down
buildings. Ask around. It's not my style. I got a beef, I bang heads, not
this burning the place down shit. That's just being a pussy. I'm outta
here." 

 Before the guy could walk away, Ray added, "Keep Johnson on a tighter
leash, Macklin. If there's another fire, I don't want to see his ugly mug
in the crowd." 

 Macklin nodded. "See yourselves out." 

 Ray turned to leave and the voice in his head told him Macklin wasn't
lying, that he'd missed something important about the investigation. As
they walked out, Fraser spoke quietly and repeated the words he'd just
heard. Ray stopped, seriously spooked, his skin icy. "What?" 

 "I said, I think Macklin's telling the truth. We've missed something in
the investigation. We need to go back over the reports and interviews." 

 Ray swallowed hard, his hands suddenly shaky. "That's what I thought you
said." 

 "What's wrong? You look pale." 

 Sighing, Ray rubbed his forehead and walked on. "Just got a headache." 

 "It's late and we haven't had lunch." The voice in his head wanted
Chinese. Fraser suggested Chinese. Ray decided he needed to sit down in a
hurry.	

 Ray dipped his egg roll in the sweet and sour and took a bite. He glanced
up to find his partner staring. "What? I drip sauce on my chin?" 

 "No, there's no sauce." 

 "Got rice in my teeth?" 

 Fraser shook his head and leaned in, his voice unusually soft. "Your
teeth are fine, Ray. I'm just trying to figure out how to broach a rather
sensitive subject." 

 Shit. Here it came. Ray sat back, his appetite gone, the voice in his
head suddenly still, right when he could've used some clever Mountie-like
assistance. "All right, spill it. You've been walking on eggshells long
enough." 

 "Eggshells?" 

 "Yeah, you know, being careful and extra polite even for you. So, what's
up? What's going on?" 

 "Actually, that's what I wanted to ask you. You've been rather peculiar
the last few weeks." 

 "Peculiar? Jeez, Fraser, that's rich coming from you." 

 Fraser smiled and sat back. "Quite true, Ray. However, there's peculiar
as in simply being eccentric based on norms of a particular culture, and
then there's peculiar as in when someone, someone like yourself, for
example, deviates from his normal behavior." 

 "And you're saying I've done that? Deviated?" 

 "I'm afraid so, yes." 

 Frowning, Ray didn't really want to hear it, but he asked anyway. "Like
how?" 

 "Well, apparently, when I'm not around, you seem to be talking to
yourself rather frequently." 

 Ray shook his head and fumed. "Fuck Dewey." 

 "Language, Ray." 

 Ray threw his napkin on the table, the wheels turning fast to try to
explain something he really couldn't explain easily. "Look, it's nothing.
Dewey walked in on me when I was trying to work something out. It's no big
deal." 

 "According to Francesca and Lt. Welsh, it's not an isolated incident." 

 Stunned, Ray met concerned blue eyes. "You're saying the Lieutenant
talked to you about me, about me talking to myself?" 

 "He's concerned, Ray, as are the others. It's not like you." 

 Suddenly defensive, he snapped, "You talk to a deaf wolf. Nobody makes a
big deal about that." 

 "We're not talking about me, Ray." 

 "Maybe we should be." 

 "Maybe later we will. Ray, I'm not trying to criticize. I'm just worried
that I'm failing you as a partner." 

 Startled, Ray shook his head in denial. "You're not. Don't even think
that." 

 "How can I not think that if you won't confide in me when you're
obviously troubled?" 

 "Just trust me, you're a great partner, the best I ever had." 

 "Thank you kindly, Ray. That means a lot to me. I think you're a
wonderful partner as well." 

 "Thanks, Fraser." Ray picked at the edge of the table cloth. "So, the
Lieutenant really talked to you about me?" 

 "He and several others, yes." 

 "They think I'm nuts?" 

 "Not nuts, no." 

 "Come on, Fraser, be honest. They think I'm losing it, going 'round the
bend, headed straight to the funny farm. What did the Lieutenant say?" 

 "He wanted to know if I was aware of any undue pressure you might be
under, something that might have happened recently." 

 "And what you'd say?" 

 "I said I didn't know of anything other than the usual arduous demands of
the job. I didn't mention that I had noticed your increased anxiety and
distraction of late." 

 Closing his eyes, Ray pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've had a lot of
things on my mind." 

 "Like what?" 

 "It's personal." 

 "I see." 

 The cool tone hit like a brick to the gut. Ray lifted his head and saw
the hurt, a sober, too tight look he hated. "It's not you, Fraser. It's
me. It's stuff I have to work out on my own. It's not that I don't trust
you." 

 "You can trust me with anything, Ray. I hope you know that." 

 "I do." 

 "Then why the secret?" 

 "You don't have secrets?" 

 Grudgingly, Fraser confessed. "A few." 

 "You want to share?" 

 "Not particularly, but I will if you need me to." 

 "But, see, I don't want that. We all need space, Fraser, privacy, even
when it comes to our best friends. Sometimes we just have to hang tight
and work things out for ourselves." 

 "Perhaps, but I can't help but be concerned. Just tell me what's wrong." 

 Ray pushed his plate away and put his elbows on the table, his hands up
in front of his face. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.
"I can't. Don't ask me." 

 Grudgingly, Fraser nodded. "Very well. However, if you can't confide in
me, perhaps you should consider a professional." 

 "A professional what?" 

 Fraser used that slow, patient tone that got Ray's goat whenever he used
it, like he was an idiot or something. "A professional counselor, Ray." 

 "You mean a shrink, a head jockey, someone to mess with my head? I'm not
nuts, Fraser. Don't even go there." 

 "I'm not suggesting you are, Ray, but you said yourself you're troubled.
Being a police officer requires strict concentration. Being distracted as
you've been the last few weeks, well, quite frankly, can be dangerous." 

 "You saying you don't trust me to watch your back? You think I'm off my
rocker enough to make me unfit for duty?" 

 "Not at all, Ray. I'm just saying I worry about you getting hurt when
your usual keen attention to detail might be focused elsewhere." 

 "That's not going to happen." 

 "It could." 

 "It won't." Suddenly angry, even more stubborn, Ray stood up and grabbed
the check. "Enough of this shit. Let's go. I've got to chase down some
more records about those buildings. Plus, the paperwork's probably back on
that last fire." 

 Fraser stood up and picked up his hat. "I didn't mean to make you angry,
Ray. I'm just trying to help." 

 "I know that. Now shut up." 

 "Understood." 

 Ray had to close his eyes when the voice in his head started laughing so
fucking loud it made his head ache.  

 The six-pack didn't help at all, not even a little bit, so Ray decided to
try whiskey. It only made the world spin and Fraser's voice too damn
fussy. Fuck that. 

 Ray rolled over on the bed and tried to clear his head, not easy to do
with a fifth of Jim Beam in his system. He slid his hand down past the
elastic band of his shorts, rubbing himself hard. He worked his own dick,
his thumb teasing the tip just the way he liked it. He thought back to
being a kid, how he used to think about Stella and get off, how it was
always Stella, well, except for Steve McQueen sometimes. That didn't make
him queer, not really queer, not just thinking about it. 

 Back then, he watched BULLET and THE GREAT ESCAPE and got horny as hell,
all hot and slick, able to get off over and over. In his room, he heard
Steve's voice telling him to do things, to get naked and spread his legs.
That tough guy's mouth took him all the way in, sucked him dry, and then
did it again for good measure. He came four or five times an hour as a
teenager. Those were the days, those were the times when he could stay in
a constant state of sexual frenzy and not worry about why dreams about one
person made him hard and another didn't. 

 Sighing deeply, Ray recalled how much he got off on thinking about a hot,
young Steve McQueen in tight jeans. He'd play it in his head like a movie,
Steve spotting him at a distance, wanting him, pulling him into a dark
alley before bending him over the still warm hood of a shiny, black
Mustang and making the whole world explode into a bright light that heated
his skin and made his dick hurt with coming. 

 Groaning to himself, Ray forgot about Steve of his early years and heard
the persuasive call of Fraser's husky voice instead. In his dreams Fraser
used his wet tongue to lick more than boots, used his mouth to kiss him,
slick down his skin, suckle his tits until Ray whimpered. Strong hands
explored all over, his face, his belly, his ass, his long legs. Ray's own
hands did the work, but Fraser's voice, the sweet hum, the purr of the
words made his head flash like lightning, twisting his world, sliding him
into a delicious flame. Ray dropped off as Fraser sang in his head, told
him how much he loved him, wanted him, would never let him be lonely
again.	

 Ray woke up with a killer headache and Benton Fraser pounding
relentlessly on his front door. Fuck the world in general and Canada in
particular. 

 Ray lifted his head and groaned. No way could it be time to get up, no
way in hell did he oversleep when he had interviews to do over. Fuck. 

 Sitting up slowly, Fraser's fist still banging at the door, Ray grabbed
his dirty jeans. He pulled them on commando style and then stumbled out to
stop all the racket. 

 "Fuck, Fraser, cut it out already." 

 Hand still in mid air, Fraser smiled that great Mountie smile, the one
Ray usually liked seeing. "Good morning, Ray." 

 Ray couldn't bear to look. He held his aching head and made it to the
sofa and covered his face with both hands as he leaned forward. Shit,
shit, shit, he never wanted Fraser to see him so fucked up, so hung over,
so fucking guilty. At least for once Fraser didn't have the wolf along to
play witness. 

 "Ray?" 

 "What time is it?" 

 "It's after nine. I tried calling." 

 "Phone's on the blink. I haven't had it fixed yet." 

 "And your cell phone?" 

 "Battery's dead." 

 "I see." 

 "I need a shower and I'll get dressed. Fix some coffee or tea or
something. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes." 

 Fraser stepped closer, hat in hand as he picked up the empty bottle off
the coffee table and then put it back down. He spoke softly, more with
concern than disapproval. "Are you sober?" 

 "Yeah, hung over, but sober." 

 "Does this behavior have anything to do with what we discussed
yesterday?" 

 "Things haven't changed, Fraser. I still don't want to talk about it." 

 "That's your right, Ray, but it's been my experience that drinking never
solves problems, but can certainly compound them." 

 Suddenly angry, pissed as hell, Ray snapped, "And how the fuck would you
know? You don't even drink, not even a beer. Don't start with me about
this, Fraser. It's not your life. It's my life, my life, you got that?" 

 Calm as ever, Fraser kept his eyes trained on Ray. "But it doesn't help,
Ray. I think you know that." 

 Ray sighed, wanting like hell to shout the house down, to punch someone's
face in, but he couldn't, not when the man he loved stood staring at him
like he'd just shot his beloved Dief in the head. He swallowed hard and
prayed he wouldn't make a fool of himself. "I know that. I know that,
Fraser. I just didn't know what else to do." 

 "You can talk to me." 

 "I can't." 

 "Why not?" 

 "Because you're part of the problem." 

 Fraser snapped straight up, stood ramrod stiff like he'd been sucker
punched by his best friend and good buddy. "What?" 

 "I don't mean it like that. It's nothing you've done. It's not your
fault. I'm not saying that." 

 "What are you saying exactly?" 

 Shaking, Ray stood up and wrapped his arms around his bare chest as he
moved a few steps away. "You ever been around somebody who makes you feel,
I don't know, different?" 

 "I'm not sure I know what you mean, Ray? Different in what way?" 

 "Better, stronger, like you're worth more than you thought." 

 "You mean someone who brings out your good qualities?" 

 "Yeah, someone who says all the right things, does all the right stuff.
Somebody you think about all the time, somebody you can't get out of your
head." 

 Fraser stepped closer, the gap between them only a few inches. "Ray, what
are you talking about?" 

 "I'm talking about you, about how you make me feel about me." 

 "I see. I make you feel better about yourself?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "And you think about me all the time?" 

 Ray turned away, his back to Fraser, unable to say what he had to say and
still look him in the eye. "I've been thinking stuff, stuff I used to
think about when I was a kid, but left behind when I hooked up with
Stella. But now, I can't help it. It's like I'm obsessed or something." 

 "Obsessed with me?" 

 "Sort of." 

 "And this obsession disturbs you enough to get intoxicated?" 

 "I thought it might help, but you're right. It only makes me feel like
shit the next day for being such an asshole the night before. It doesn't
change anything, doesn't make it easier to deal with." 

 Fraser touched his shoulder and Ray jerked away, moving to the other side
of the room. "Don't do that." 

 "I'm sorry." 

 "It's not you. I'm just fucked up right now. I need to figure this out
and I can't do that with you in my head all the time." 

 "I'm in your head?" 

 "Your voice, all the time, talking. Telling me stuff." 

 Fraser stayed in place, but he never took his eyes off Ray. "What do I
say?" 

 "Well, you don't, Fraser. That's the point. It's not you, I know that. I
haven't lost my mind completely." 

 "Then what is it you think I'm saying?" 

 "Nothing. It's not you." 

 "Ray, please. I'm trying to understand. You're not making this easy." 

 Sitting down on the sofa again, exhausted, his head pounding, Ray fought
down the nausea of a prizewinning, shitty morning after. "Look, I still
haven't worked out how I feel about what I'm feeling." 

 Fraser's eyes opened a little wider as he took the chair beside Ray.
"Ray, I may have a hole in my bag of marbles, but it seems to me you're
saying you're having trouble dealing with a sexual attraction to me. Is
that what this is about, you're confused about your sexual identity?" 

 Startled, Ray glanced up, his heart sick, his head spinning. "You got
that from what I was saying, huh?" 

 "I think so, yes." 

 Still cagey, still not able to say it out loud, Ray hedged. "And how
would you feel about that, me being obsessed with you that way, not as a
buddy, but something way different?" 

 Fraser didn't even flinch, didn't look away. "Are you?" 

 "You answer first." 

 "I'd be flattered." 

 "And?" 

 "And what, Ray?" 

 "You going to make me say it?" 

 Fraser leaned in, his voice soft and husky. "I'm afraid so, Ray. I don't
want any misunderstandings between us about what it is you're feeling." 

 Swallowing glass would've been easier, would've been less scary. "I think
I'm in love with you." 

 "You think?" 

 Ray gave up and confessed. "I'm in love with you." 

 "Good." 

 "Good?" 

 "It's about time you realized it." 

 Ray shook his head in stunned amazement at the cocky arrogance of the man
who licked his lips like he just found a bright red box of free candy.
"What? You knew?" 

 "I suspected." 

 "You didn't say anything?" 

 "Well, as you know, Ray, suspecting isn't the same as knowing." 

 "But you know now." 

 "Yes, and it's only fair that you know that the feeling is mutual." 

 "I don't believe this." 

 "Oh, it's true, Ray." 

 "But..." 

 "But what?" 

 "Why didn't you say something?" 

 "Why didn't you?" 

 "I was confused." 

 "Exactly." 

 "You knew that, too?" 

 Fraser still didn't touch him, but he never let his gaze falter. "I knew
you wanted me. I could tell that much, but I could also see quite clearly
that the idea of being with me bothered you a great deal. Then you started
acting so strangely and I became concerned that your struggle to come to
terms with your shifting sexual preference might lead to some serious
problems." 

 The light dawned. "So that's why you've been coming around more, keeping
an eye on me. You thought I'd cracked under the strain of thinking that I
might have a thing for a man after I'd only been with women." 

 "I feared that might be the case, yes." 

 "I didn't crack, well, only a little bit. It just sort of hit me, this
thing I had, this voice out of nowhere." 

 "Voice?" 

 "Your voice. You kept showing up at night, talking, whispering sweet
nothings, telling me to do stuff." 

 "Do stuff? What stuff are you talking about, Ray?" 

 Ray flushed deeply and then leaned in, finally brave enough to say it. "I
got off thinking about you. I felt ashamed because the next day I'd be
standing there talking to you like nothing changed, but in my head your
voice kept teasing and I was seeing these pictures of you naked and
feeling these sensations, good feelings I'd forgotten about." 

 "Were you ashamed because your feelings were directed towards me and not
a woman?" 

 "No, I felt guilty because it was like I was using you without
permission." 

 "Ah." 

 "Don't ah me right now, Fraser. Just tell me what you're really
thinking." 

 Fraser came closer and ran the back of his hand up Ray's cheek, the touch
electric. Ray shivered. "You have my permission to think about me all you
want. It's only fair since I've been thinking about you the same way for
months now." 

 Ray studied those dark blue, hungry eyes, his throat dry, his stomach
knotted. "You have? You've been thinking about me like that?" 

 "I understand about guilt and obsession, Ray, believe me." Before Ray
could muster up an answer, Fraser leaned in and kissed him, just briefly
at first, just a taste before he pulled back. Fraser whispered, "You call
me Ben in my head and I like that." 

 "Ben?" Ray smiled, relieved Fraser wasn't pissed as hell for having a
queer partner. "Good name. I like it." 

 "I'm tired of living in my head, Ray." 

 "Me, too." 

 "Any suggestions?" 

 "I stink. Let me get a shower and we can talk about it." 

 Fraser shook his head, smiling, his eyes dark with desire. "Talking is
not what I had in mind." 

 Once again, his partner leaned in and captured his mouth, his tongue
possessive. Slick and hot, the kiss lasted long enough for Ray to come up
sputtering. "Jesus. You really want this." 

 "I've been patient a long time, Ray. I wanted you to figure it out on
your own. It hasn't been easy." 

 "Sorry. I'm slow sometimes." 

 "Then let's make up for lost time and move this to the bedroom." 

 "What about work?" 

 "We'll work through lunch to make up for the lost time." 

 Ray's lips thinned into a grin. "I like the way you think, Ben." 

 Ben didn't answer, just stood with a quick smile and brought Ray to his
feet, leading him to the bedroom. The voice in his head went silent,
giving in to the real voice of the man right beside him, the man he hoped
stayed there forever.  

 Ray expected forceful and got giving, expected demanding and got
yielding. In fact, Ben didn't make love anything at all like Ray expected.


 Of course, it might all be different later on, different if either of
them lasted more than five minutes after stripping off and going at it
liked two men starved for touch for years too long. Trapped beneath the
dead weight of his partner, Ray gasped for air, his lungs burning.
"Jesus." 

 Ben managed a weak, "Dear Lord," and lay limp, his eyes closed and his
breathing still too ragged to do much good for his brain. 

 After a few more moments, Ray chuckled as he lifted his hips and shoved
Ben off and over onto his back. He climbed on and straddled Ben's hips. He
palmed his lover's chest and then leaned down for a quick kiss. "It's good
to know." 

 "What?" 

 "That you get off faster than you drive my car." 

 Ben flushed a bright pink color and captured Ray's hands. "I apologize. I
don't usually reach completion that quickly. I've just been ..." 

 "Horny as hell?" 

 "I was going to say sexually frustrated." 

 "Horny." 

 "Tense." 

 "Horny." 

 "On edge." 

 Ray leaned forward and kissed him, repeating stubbornly, "Horny." 

 "All right, all right, have it your way, horny." 

 "Thank you." 

 Ben met his gaze, wrapped his arms around him to draw him closer, chest
to chest. "I love you very much, Ray. I had hoped our first time would be
a bit more romantic." 

 "Romantic?" 

 "Yes. A quick release and then off to work isn't exactly the scenario I'd
envisioned." 

 "Look, I know it's not hearts and flowers, but I love you, too, and that
other stuff we can do later, whenever we want." 

 "I know that. It's just that the first time should be special. I've
failed to manage that because of my impatience." 

 "You weren't jerking off alone here, Ben. I was humping away the same as
you. I wanted it fast." Ray's voice softened. "I needed it. You didn't
fail at anything. If someone failed, it was me. I should've been upfront
and honest, but this was all a big whatdoyoucallit?" 

 "A revelation?" 

 "Yeah, and a surprise. I've never been attracted to a real guy before." 

 "Real guy?" 

 "Well, I really don't count Steve McQueen. I mean, you don't hold teenage
crushes against a person, right?" 

 "I wouldn't count any former attractions against you, Ray." 

 "I know, I know, but you're open-minded. I couldn't tell anybody else I
got hot over a guy, not even a guy like McQueen. Fuck, especially not a
guy like McQueen, and especially not to Stella. She wouldn't understand.
So, who was I going to tell? It's not like I got a whole bunch of people
lined up to talk to about who I want to be with." 

 "Steve McQueen was very handsome." 

 "Yeah, and did I mention hot?" 

 Ben raised a hand and tenderly touched Ray's hair, fingering it as his
voice got dreamy. "He had that rather rebellious quality one often finds
very attractive." 

 "You liked him, too, huh?" 

 "Actually, I'm attracted to rebellious American blonds." 

 "Yeah?" 

 "Most definitely." 

 Ray dipped his head and kissed him before teasing. "You've got a
rebellious, wild side yourself, Ben." 

 Ben suddenly stopped playing with Ray's hair as his expression darkened.
"I'm afraid that's quite true, Ray. It's something I've worked hard to
overcome." 

 "Then quit it." Cupping Ben's face, Ray grinned. "I like it." 

 Instead of smiling back, Ben shook his head. "You don't understand." 

 "Understand what?" 

 "That part of me scares me." 

 "Why?" 

 "Because sometimes I can't control it. Sometimes I do things that I'm
ashamed of afterwards." 

 Frowning, Ray straightened up and then rolled off, pulling the sheet up
over him as he leaned back against the headboard. He crossed his arms
tightly around his chest, wanting it over fast, wham, bam, thank you, Ray,
we're all done now. He cleared his throat to find the strength, to be
ready if the words came back wrong. "Like now? You ashamed of letting go
right now, cutting loose with me? You sorry we did this?" 

 Fraser sat up and scooted closer, his voice a hush. "Not at all. That's
not what I'm saying, Ray." 

 Relieved, but still confused, Ray pushed harder. "Then what are you
saying?" 

 "I'm saying that sometimes it's difficult for me to control myself once I
allow myself to stop resisting my impulses." 

 "Well, fuck, Ben, we all feel that way." 

 "But we all don't betray our partners or almost run off with murderers." 

 Ray met worried eyes and shook his head in bewilderment. "Now you've lost
me." 

 "You've read my files, Ray. You know about Victoria Metcalfe." 

 "Yeah, and that Vecchio shot you by mistake when he was trying to stop
her from shooting you." 

 "She was unarmed. I was leaving with her." 

 "What?" 

 "I said..." 

 "I heard what you said." Mouth dry, Ray tired to figure out the heart of
the puzzle. "And Vecchio shot you to keep you from leaving?" 

 "No, he sincerely thought she was a danger, and she was, but not because
she was going to shoot me, but because I lost all reason. I would've
betrayed everyone, every allegiance, to be with her." 

 "And you think you've lost reason with me?" 

 "No, but I could." 

 Ray squeezed his eyes shut briefly and prayed for more patience. "Look,
first off, reason's not all it's cracked up to be. And second, fuck that."
Ray grabbed Ben's face and kissed him hard, his tongue exploring, his cock
waking up for an encore. He forced himself to stop and pull back. "What
I'm saying is, be as wild as you want. It's good to let go, to take what
you want. I'm all up for wild. I can handle anything you want to try out."


 "But what if..." 

 "What if what?" 

 Ben swallowed hard, the words difficult as he met Ray's stare. "What if I
hurt you?" 

 "You won't, not if you're honest and don't pull any more Mountie
mindfucks." 

 "Mountie mind whats?" 

 "Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about." 

 "I assure you, Ray, I really don't." 

 "Yeah? You telling me this whole time you were getting off thinking about
me, knowing I was having the same problem, you didn't step a little
closer, touch me more often and a lot longer than you had to?" 

 Ben cleared his throat, suddenly uneasy. "I didn't mean to manipulate
you, Ray. I just thought perhaps a little nudging might help ease you in
the right direction." 

 Ray laughed out loud and then smacked Ben's cheek affectionately. "Right
direction works for me, but next time, I plan to call your ass on it. No
more messing with my head. You think I need to deal with something, say it
directly." 

 Slipping his hand down under the sheet, Ben found Ray's new erection.
Hissing at the touch, Ray dropped his head back and complained, "Stop. We
don't have time." 

 "But we should deal with this directly, Ray. You said so." Ben stroked
his cock, the heat blocking all coherent thought, any resistance. 

 Ray thrust into his hand. "You prick, you asshole. That's not what I
meant." The words came out raw and breathy. 

 Before any more complaints, Ben lifted the sheet and replaced his hand
with his mouth, Ray's dick slipping between his lips. Ben's tongue helped
control the pressure as he bobbed his head. Only a few thrusts later, Ray
broke his own speed record as he came even faster than before, his body
shaking all over. Ben kept at it, kept sucking and Ray whimpered, the
electric aftershocks like sparks of pleasure all along his cock and balls.


 By the time he caught his breath, Ben rested his head on his chest and
whispered, "I love you, but I'm afraid we really have to go to work now." 

 Cupping the back of Ben's head, the thick hair silky against his palm,
Ray wanted to sleep, to just relax there with Ben against him forever. 

 "Ray, please, we have to go..." 

 "To work. I know. Give me a minute." 

 "We don't have much time, Ray." 

 "You can't just do something like that and expect me to hop right up and
get going." 

 A few minutes passed before Ray's breathing returned to almost normal and
his heart didn't want to beat out of his chest. Taking a deep breath, he
managed a few weak words. "We have to shower." 

 "Oh, yes, I agree." 

 "And change the sheets." 

 "I could do that while you shower." 

 Ray smiled wickedly. "Not if you're showering with me." 

 Ben lifted his head, his face flushed and his lips red and puffy. "We
really should consider making it a cold shower, Ray." 

 Chuckling, Ray shook his head. "Nope, no way. Hot and soapy all the way."


 Ben didn't argue, just gave in and rolled over as he headed off to the
bathroom. Ray followed behind him but didn't miss the invitation of Ben's
newfound erection. Broad shoulders, tight ass, hard cock, that's the kind
of thing that got Ray's attention in a really big way.	

 "I'm well aware of your disapproval, but I repeat, my private life is
none of your concern." Ben paused and then slapped his hand down on the
kitchen counter. "You're dead for godsakes. What could you possibly do
with grandchildren?" Waiting again, as if listening to a reply, Ben shook
his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You're being
irrational about this. I'll be fine and it's my choice to make." 

 "Ben?" 

 Ben spun around from the sink, looking like a moose caught in the high
beam of a search light. "Yes, Ray?" 

 "Who are you talking to?" 

 "Nobody." 

 "Sounded like somebody." 

 Ben cracked his neck, straightened his tunic, and didn't meet his eyes.
"I sometimes find it helps to argue both sides of a position." 

 Ray stepped into the room but didn't let it drop. "Sounded like somebody
was giving you a hard time about us." 

 "Is that how it sounded?" 

 "Is that your freaky way of saying you're not sure about what we did?" 

 His face drawn, Ben shook his head, moving to hug Ray. Ben whispered, "No
matter what you heard just then, it's not what you think. I love you and I
don't regret being with you. I never will." 

 Ray pulled back and studied his lover's face, seeing the strain,
wondering what the hell he just witnessed. "You hearing voices, too?" 

 "Voices?" 

 "Yeah, in your head. You got a voice in your head telling you that this
is all wrong, like a really bad idea?" 

 "Do you have a voice that says that?" 

 "Sure, sometimes." 

 Ben stepped back, suddenly more formal. "I see." 

 "No, you don't see. No guy in this day and age, especially a cop, is ever
going to go into something like this and not see all the angles. It's not
like we can just tell people without worrying about what they're all going
to think. Most are going to say we're sick, that we're disgusting, ought
to be run off the job, and they won't be too quiet about it, either."
Ray's voice softened as he moved back into Ben's embrace, his arms wrapped
around his waist. "I'm not stupid, Ben. Being together is damn hard even
when everybody's pulling for you. We won't even have that." 

 "No, we won't, but we will have us." 

 "Damn straight." 

 Ben dropped his head to Ray's shoulder. "I have to tell you something and
I'm afraid of how you're going to react." 

 Ray tensed, fearful of what it might be. "What?" 

 "Sit down first." 

 That definitely didn't sound good, not good at all, but Ray reluctantly
moved to the sofa. "Okay. What?" 

 Rubbing his hands together, Ben paced a few times before he finally
stopped, stood straight, and put his hands behind his back. "It started
soon after he died." 

 "What did?" 

 "My father." 

 "Your father?" Ray scratched his head, still not getting a clear picture.
"He's dead, I get that, but what started after he died?" 

 "He started appearing." 

 "Appearing?" 

 "Yes, out of nowhere, in the car, at the station, in the closet." 

 "Closet?" 

 "At the Consulate. It's his office." 

 "You're losing me here, Ben. Are you saying you're seeing your dad even
though he's dead?" 

 Ben closed his eyes. "Yes, for some time now." 

 Ray sat back, blown away. Crazy Mountie saw dead guys, and not just any
dead guys, but his old man who got him stuck in Chicago and pretty much
ran his whole life before catching a bullet. Fuck, that had to be scary.
Swallowing hard, Ray looked around the place, not quite sure if he wanted
to catch a glimpse of the old coot or not. "So, is he here right now or
what?" 

 Opening his eyes, Ben studied him for a moment, his face hopeful. "You
believe me?" 

 "Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, I don't know much about that whole stick
around after you're dead thing, but if you say you see him, you see him.
You wouldn't make that shit up, right?" Ray snorted with amusement, his
eyes bright. "Bet you thought you were going nuts the first time." 

 Ben let out a relieved sigh and slumped down on the sofa beside Ray. "You
have no idea." 

 "Oh, I can imagine, Mr. Logic." 

 Smiling at the tease, Ben leaned over and kissed him. He cupped his face
and stared lovingly. "I'm so glad you believe me." 

 "You didn't answer me before. Is he here right now?" 

 "No." 

 "But he was earlier?" 

 The frown returned and Ben turned away. "Yes." 

 "And he's not happy?" 

 "He thinks it's a difficult path." 

 "Because I'm a cop and you're a cop?" 

 "Something like that." 

 "He's right." 

 "He is not right." 

 "He's not right about giving up on being together, but he is right about
it being hard. We both know that. And from what I heard, he wanted
grandkids, huh?" 

 Ben shook his head, his voice fussy. "Oh, please, grandchildren, like he
ever had any interest in children save passing on the Fraser name, as if
that's any reason to bring a defenseless child into this frightful world."


 Ray touched his shoulder, the muscles tight under his hand. "Take a
breath, Ben. You want to talk about it?" 

 "No, not particularly." 

 "But maybe sometime?" 

 Ben glanced over, a small smile thinning his lips. "Perhaps. However,
right now, we have a case to work. Inspector Thatcher has released me from
my regular duties while we work the arson investigation." 

 "I wondered about that." 

 "Yes, apparently, she knows one of the owners, a Jacob Carver, Senior.
She's made it a priority." 

 "Lucky me, then." 

 "Indeed." 

 "So, I guess we better get cracking. Welsh is going to have me for
breakfast if I don't show up pretty soon. I guess I could tell him we were
talking to a witness." 

 Frowning, Ben shook his head. "I don't feel comfortable lying, Ray." 

 Ray tilted his head and studied his partner, Fraser's rock solid
steadiness a real turn on. His cock ached at the memory of Ben's eager
mouth, his hands all over him just a short time earlier. "What? You want
to tell him what we were really doing?" 

 Ben's cheek muscle twitched and he flushed a really deep pink color that
Ray liked, liked a hell of a lot. "I just think we shouldn't say anything
unless we're directly asked." 

 "And then what?" 

 "We could drive by and inspect the most probable targets for arson on the
way to the station. It wouldn't be lying to say we were working." 

 Laughing out loud, Ray patted him on the back as he reached for his
jacket. "Good plan there, Mr. Let's Bend the Truth Just a Little." 

 "Can you think of anything more feasible?" 

 "Just yanking your chain, Ben. I'll follow your lead." 

 As Ray touched the knob to the door, Ben grabbed his hand and turned him
around. "Ray, after we leave here, we have to be professional." 

 "Absolutely." 

 "Then you agree that we have to act normally?" 

 Ray practically cackled. "Normal? That's a good one, Frase. I like that.
Now, come on, pitter, patter, let's hit the highway. Normal, jeez, like
that wouldn't make people suspicious right off the bat." 

 With a long-suffering sigh, Ben followed. "This is going to be a very
long day."  

 Son of a bitch, son of a fucking bitch. Lying on his side, Ray curled
tightly into a ball and groaned as he opened his eyes. Bad idea, like the
worst fucking idea ever. The blurry world rolled and he heaved, hard, very
hard, like he might lose his damn stomach. Didn't quite puke, but then he
couldn't breathe much, either, couldn't catch a breath, not with a broken
nose and a rib about ready to puncture a lung. That brought him back to
the son of a bitch who pounded his face in. God, he'd kill him if he could
ever hold a gun again. 

 A hand settled against his chest and he heard a faintly whispered, "Ray,
be still. You're injured." 

 "No damn kidding." 

 "I'm serious. Lie still. You're in shock." 

 "Yeah, okay. Fuck." Ray opened his eyes and focused, this time with more
success, but then frowned. "You're bleeding." 

 "For the most part, it's not my blood." 

 "Oh." That's all he could manage as Fraser draped his wool coat over him
like a blanket. He needed it to fight off the growing cold, his arms numb
and his body shivering. "Sorry." 

 "Don't be sorry, Ray, just keep breathing." 

 "Plan to." Head pounding, stomach clenched, Ray grumbled. "Must be losing
my touch. Carver Junior. Fuck. Go figure." 

 "Ray, we'll worry about Mr. Carver's son later. Right now my main concern
is getting you medical assistance as quickly as possible." 

 "Door locked?" 

 "Yes, and barricaded from the other side." 

 Ray closed his eyes briefly as another icy chill washed over him. Despite
his damaged nose, he knew that godawful reek. "I smell gas." 

 "I believe he's planning on burning his father's warehouse later
tonight." 

 "Timer?" 

 "I believe so, yes. If he follows his usual pattern, it'll go off just
after dark." 

 A wave of panic hit him. "I can't burn, Ben. Jesus. Shoot me first." 

 "You won't burn, Ray. Now stay still. I'm attempting to break one of the
windows. Carver Senior told us yesterday that he'd reinstalled alarms in
his remaining vacant buildings. If I can break the connection, we can set
off the alarm." 

 "You don't think Junior cut it off when he broke in here? He was inside
the office when this place was supposed to be abandoned. No alarm went
off." 

 "He had his father's keys." 

 "How do you know that?" 

 "I don't, not for certain, but I think it's likely since he has access to
his father's home and other places of business." Fraser leaned down, his
white Henley soaked with Ray's blood, his lower lip bruised and swollen.
"I'm going to attempt to break the glass. Please don't move. I have to
focus and I can't do that if I'm afraid you're going to hurt yourself
more." 

 "Don't worry. Not moving." 

 "Good." Ben leaned way down and kissed his forehead. "I love you." 

 Closing his eyes briefly, Ray's head floated away, disconnected. Despite
the fear of burning alive, those words made it all better. "Love you, too.
Now do that Mountie thing you do and get us the hell out of here." 

 "Mountie thing?" 

 "Fraser..." 

 "Right you are then." 

 Unable to move, Ray watched his partner heft up one of the wooden chairs
and slam it against the reinforced windows, not once, but several times.
The tremendous force made a hell of a lot of noise, but not a lot of
progress. Taking short, shallow breaths, Ray whispered hoarsely, "Harder,
Ben." 

 Ben stopped for just a moment and shook his head. "If only that were in
the right context, Ray." 

 Caught off guard, Ray laughed and then sputtered a cough. It hurt too
much to breathe and grew worse with every second. "Fuck. Don't say shit
like that, not now." 

 Ben didn't bother to answer, but renewed his efforts to break the window
with inspired dedication. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ray's head exploded
with the sound of the screeching alarm as the chair finally crashed
through. Ben moved beside him and held him carefully, palming his
forehead. He petted back the matted hair from his face, careful to avoid
the deep scalp wound. "It won't be long now, Ray." 

 "Good. I feel like shit. I get my hands on Junior and I'll kick his
fucking teeth in." 

 "And I won't stop you." 

 "Won't even try to talk me out of it?" 

 "Not in the least." Fraser stopped petting his hair back from his
forehead. "The police are out front." 

 "That was fast." 

 "I believe they may be more vigilant because of the recent rash of
fires." 

 Another wave of icy pain hit him and Ray fought to remain conscious. "I'm
sorry, Ben. He caught me off guard." 

 "He caught us both off guard." 

 Ray captured Ben's bloody hand and squeezed it. "Son of a bitch hit you."


 "Ray, Ray, Ray, you should've just surrendered. Carver had no intention
of harming anyone other than his own father." 

 "I couldn't, not after he hit you." 

 "You're unhinged." 

 "About you, yeah, maybe." Wetting his lips, his air thinning, Ray held on
tight. "At least we won't burn." 

 "Thank god." 

 "Oh, yeah."  

 "Ah, Detective, I see you're finally with us again." 

 Gradually, Ray focused, his vision still fuzzy and his head banging like
a demented Dewey on drums. He lifted an arm and saw the IV and something
that pinched the hell out of his left index finger. The thick bandage on
his right hand reminded Ray of the few solid blows he landed on Carver's
face right before the prick nailed him with that lead pipe to the head.
Ray blinked several times and found Welsh standing there glaring at him,
his thick arms crossed around his chest, his jaw clenching. "How long you
been here?" 

 "Long enough to know you're a numbskull, Kowalski. I swear, if you
weren't already in that bed, I'd put you there. What the hell were you
thinking pulling a dim-witted stunt like that, not calling in, no back up,
and not carrying a phone? I ought to bust your ass back to walking a beat
if I thought it'd do any good." 

 "In all fairness, Lieutenant, Ray did plan to call in our location, but
his cell phone was out of service." 

 "And I suppose it's against the law to stop at a corner and use a pay
phone?" 

 "No, sir. I'm just trying to..." 

 "It's okay, Fraser. He's right. I'm a numbskull, a real dumbshit. I
should've known it was Junior all along and I didn't follow procedure. I
suck." 

 Lt. Welsh's face softened and Fraser moved to the far side of the bed,
leaning on the rail. "You do not, as you say, suck, Ray. I'm as
responsible as you are." 

 "If I may interrupt your attempt to shoulder some of the blame,
Constable, let me just say, first and foremost, I'm glad you're both
alive. You got lucky." 

 The drugs made Ray's throat dry, his tongue too thick. Lucky his ass.
Still, he wasn't a crispy critter, so it wasn't all bad. Using his good
hand, he hit the button to raise his hospital bed and sit up. It made his
head spin and his stomach not the least bit happy. "We get Junior yet?" 

 Welsh answered, "Picked him up at the airport. He was on his way to
France. Seems he's got friends there." Welsh stepped closer to the bed,
standing opposite of Fraser and towering over Ray. "Don't change the
subject. I'm not finished frying your butt yet. You pull another stupid
stunt like this one, and I'll suspend you, that is if you don't get
yourself killed next time." 

 Ray didn't bother to argue. "Yes, sir." 

 "Good, now with that said, I've got some phone calls to make and a
firebug to put away. You, Kowalski, do what the doctors say or you'll
being doing paperwork until doomsday. Got that?" 

 "Come on, Lieutenant. They want me to stay overnight, maybe even longer.
I do better at home." 

 "Did you get your medical degree in your spare time and not tell me,
Detective?" 

 "No, I'm just saying..." 

 "Then are you suggesting you know more than a qualified team of
physicians about busted skulls, even thick busted skulls like your own?" 

 "No, I'm just..." 

 "Paperwork, Detective, stacks and stacks of paperwork and files, and did
I mention a storage room that hasn't been organized since the last time
the real Vecchio tried to con me?" 

 Welsh sure as hell knew his weak points. "You fight dirty, sir." 

 "If I really wanted to play hardball, I'd let your ex-wife and Ms.
Vecchio take a crack at your ass." 

 Ray groaned, not even wanting to imagine how Stella would chew his ass
out. She always hated when she thought he played cowboy, made his life
hell, put him in the doghouse so many times, he woke up with fleas. And
Frannie, Frannie would make him nuts, talking gibberish like she did when
she got really rattled. Oh, yeah, Welsh knew how to hit below the belt,
all right. Bet he was a hell of a street cop. 

 Welsh turned his attention to Fraser. "And you, Constable, you're not off
the hook, either. Inspector Thatcher called and wants a full report by
sundown." 

 "Right away, sir." 

 "She did say you should call and let her know how long you needed to stay
with your partner here." 

 Fraser glanced at Ray and then back at Welsh. "Ray will need tending for
several days once he's released." 

 "I told her his condition, so she's aware of that. Look, get it
straightened out and call me if you need anything. I've got to get back to
the station. Just don't pull this crap again." 

 Fraser nodded, his face pale, his bottom lip distorted from the punch in
the mouth. "I understand, sir." 

 "I hope you do, Constable. It's bad enough to lose good men when it can't
be helped. It's a sin when it could've been prevented by using a little
cop sense. Do I make myself clear?" 

 "Absolutely, sir." 

 "Good." Welsh picked up his jacket and coat as he stepped to the door.
"Remember what I said, Detective, paperwork will be your middle name if
you don't do what you're told." 

 "Yes, sir." 

 "Good. Now get some rest. You look like hell." 

 As soon as Welsh shut the door, Fraser smiled down at Ray. "That went
rather well, Ray, much better than I expected." 

 Even with the drugs, Ray ached. "Yeah, he could've suspended me." 

 "I think he's rather fond of you, Ray. He was here for quite some time
while you were unconscious. I don't think he'd be so angry if he didn't
care." 

 "Shit, Frase, if he liked me any more, I'd probably be behind bars or
writing out traffic tickets." 

 "It's all a posture, Ray. He really does like you." 

 Ray wanted to argue the point further, but then shifted on the pillow and
hissed. "Fuck, that hurts." 

 "You've got a level three concussion, a broken nose, two cracked ribs, a
great deal of soft tissue bruising, not to mention the stitches in your
scalp and right hand. You're lucky you don't feel much worse." 

 "Ow, true, even if I did get my ass kicked." 

 "You need to lie still." 

 Ray did just that, concentrating on breathing through his mouth and
around the pain in his chest. After a few moments, he checked out his
partner. He reached up and gingerly ran a finger along Ben's injured lip.
"That where he belted you?" 

 "Yes." 

 "You okay?" 

 Ben took his hand in his and held it to his face. His eyes squeezed shut
as he whispered, "I'm fine, Ray, but you scared me." 

 "I'm tough." 

 Staring down, his expression suddenly harder, Ben fussed, "But not
indestructible. You went up against a man nearly twice your size who was
brandishing a lead pipe after he knocked your gun away. It wasn't remotely
a fair match, Ray." 

 "I got in a few good punches." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Look, I just lost it. I saw Carver hit you and I just sort of went nuts.
You went down and didn't get up." 

 "I was stunned. He caught me by surprise." 

 "Sucker punched ya." 

 "Yes." 

 Throat tight, Ray squeezed Ben's hand. "Me, too. I thought I'd lost you
before I even got a chance to really have you." 

 Ben wiped the single tear from Ray's face and then kissed him, the aches
and pains eased away by his partner's care, his touch, his knowing just
what Ray needed most, his unconditional love.  

 Ray stood leaning with the lower half of his body against the sink, one
hand on the pole of the IV stand, the other fingering the bandage on right
side of his head. "Fuck. They shaved my hair off." 

 Fraser stood right behind him, his hand at the small of his back. "It'll
grow back, Ray." 

 "I'm going to have a scar and a big bald spot." 

 "Perhaps it will grow back even thicker and bushier than before." 

 "Perhaps you're unhinged." 

 "That's a theory." 

 Glancing back at the mirror, Ray checked out the swollen nose and the two
black eyes. God, he looked like shit. Ray's face, lead pipe, the pipe
always wins, no contest. Ray sighed, suddenly and desperately zapped, his
energy totally shot to hell. The vertigo returned with a vengeance and he
rocked forward. "Help me back to the bed." 

 "Certainly. Lean on me." 

 Like an old man, Ray shuffled across the floor, his head spinning and his
stomach up for grabs. Turning slowly, he sat on the edge of the bed and
let Ben help shift him higher. His ribs hurt like hell, but he didn't
complain, only hitched his breath a few times when he couldn't help it.
Once positioned correctly, Ben raised the head of the bed and guided him
back against the mattress before lifting Ray's legs up so he could stretch
out. He covered him with the sheet and blanket and then raised the side
rail. "Would you like some water?" 

 "Yeah." 

 Ben poured him some ice water and then bent the straw, holding the glass
steady while Ray grasped it, sipping almost half before he stopped. Hands
still together, Ray whispered, "Thanks." 

 "You're welcome." 

 Ray released the glass and Ben's touch and sank back against the pillows,
exhausted. "God, I want to go home." 

 "I know." 

 "When can I go home?" 

 "Maybe tomorrow." 

 "They said that yesterday." 

 "You're still not well enough, Ray. Be patient." 

 Eyes misty, Ray took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I can't rest
here. Hospitals give me the creeps. Always have." 

 "One never likes to be dependent." 

 Ray opened his eyes and turned his head to see Ben better, his lover's
face still a little bleary thanks to the concussion. "It's not that." 

 "No?" 

 "They smell funny, like Mort's place." 

 "Ah." 

 Ray rubbed his head, the terrible headache not letting up even for a
fucking second. "Please don't do the ah thing." 

 "I'm sorry. It's just that I understand completely. The smell of
antiseptic is very distinctive. Olfactory memory linked to unpleasant
situations can often result in what you refer to as 'the creeps'. To this
day, I can't abide the stench of dead caribou without being nauseous." 

 "Who would?" 

 "Most hunters, I would think." 

 Ray tried not to laugh and held a protective hand over his chest. He
tired harder to explain. "Look, all I'm saying is that it's hard to get
well here. I can't sleep. When they're not running tests, they keep waking
me up all day and night to poke me with needles and make me take pills. I
can't think straight. I hate it." 

 "Believe me, Ray, I understand. After I was shot in the back, I was in
the hospital and rehab for over a month." 

 "I forgot about that. Jesus, that must have been hell." 

 "I don't really remember much about the first week. I was on morphine, so
my memory is a bit hazy and fragmented at best." 

 "Morphine does that." 

 "Indeed, though I must confess, at the time I found it a relief, not so
much from the pain of the bullet, but from the overwhelming loss. Still,
once they reduced the medication, I found the overall tedium of being
forced to remain in bed day after day to be dreadfully depressing. I
obsessed about how I would continue my life should I not regain my
abilities enough to work again." 

 "Well, hell, of course you would." Ray touched Ben's hand on the rail,
his voice less tough. "You've still got that bullet in your back, right?" 

 "Yes." 

 "It ever hurt?" 

 Ben frowned as he studied his face. "Sometimes. Why?" 

 "Just wondering. Every now and then I think it would've been easier if
Stella had just shot me. Felt like she did, like she took me out and put a
bullet in my head when I wasn't looking. But I got through it. Part of the
reason for that is because I met you." 

 "Me?" 

 "Yeah, I took this job because I needed a change and I sure as hell got
that with you." He smiled when he said it, made sure Ben understood he
meant it as a good thing. His voice softened. "I don't think I would've
made it without you, Ben." 

 Ben squeezed his hand, his face deadly serious. "You would have done
fine, Ray. You're stronger than you let yourself believe. I can't say I
understand your obsession with Stella, not from the way I've seen her
repeatedly treat you so badly, but then I can't truthfully say I fully
comprehend my disturbing relationship with Victoria. Having said that, I
hope that the new level of our relationship brings us to a better
understanding of both ourselves and one another." 

 "Say that again five times fast." 

 "Excuse me?" 

 Ray closed his eyes against the brightness of the lights. "Look, I get
what you're saying, but bottom line, let's forget about Stella and
Victoria. We don't need them. We've got us. That's all that matters." 

 "Succinctly put, and I agree." 

 "Good." 

 Ray lay quietly, breathing slowly, a warm hand on his own as he drifted.
"Ray?" 

 "Yeah?" 

 "You should sleep now. I'll be right here if you need anything." 

 "Need you." 

 "And I you, Ray."  

 Groaning as he shifted in the bed, Ray tried to distract himself from the
persistent pounding in his head and the dull ache in his chest. "How's
Dief?" 

 Ben looked up from his paper. "He's fine, Ray." 

 "I've been meaning to ask, how come you didn't bring him the other day?" 

 Folding the paper, Ben put it on the table and then stood up. He walked
to the edge of the bed to talk quietly. "I'm afraid Constable Turnbull
allowed him to eat a whole bowl of marinara and pasta. You'd think he'd
remember the unfortunate consequences of such a diet after the last
regrettable incident with spaghetti." 

 "God, you'd think. So, poor Diefster had the runs, huh?" 

 "And uncontrollable flatulence." 

 "You leave him with Turnbull?" 

 "It seemed only fair." 

 Ray wanted to laugh, but decided against it. Instead, he rubbed his head,
the pain never ending, just hacking away like a buzz saw on high. "You'd
think they could afford to give a guy an aspirin." 

 "Not with a head injury, Ray." 

 Ben's somber tone caught Ray's attention and tingled his cop sense. He
stared at his partner with suspicion. "You know something you're not
telling?" 

 "Aspirin increases the chance of bleeding or any bleeding that may
already be present." Ben didn't meet his eyes, wouldn't even look up.
Fuck. 

 "Spill it." 

 "Spill what, Ray?" 

 "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm asking. Why am I still here? I've
been bashed in the head plenty of times and been sent home the same night
after a quick x-ray and pat on the back. So, I have to ask myself, what's
different about this time? If you know, tell me." 

 "Dr. Jenson was going to see you this afternoon to explain." 

 "Explain what?" 

 "The last CAT scan showed a small subacute subdural hematoma." 

 "A subawhat?" 

 "It's a small blood clot in the brain, no doubt caused by the blow to the
head. Yours developed after 24 hours of the initial injury. Luckily,
you're only showing a minimal number of symptoms. It's quite possible the
clot is small enough to resolve itself without surgical intervention." 

 "Surgical? You saying they might have to cut my head open?" 

 Ben swallowed hard and took Ray's hand. "They would most likely make a
small burr hole in the skull over the clot and drain it away. That would
relieve the pressure on the brain." 

 Ray couldn't believe it, couldn't take it in, not completely. "You're
saying they want to drill a hole in my head?" 

 "They might not have to do anything but use medication, Ray." 

 "But worst case, they might, they might actually drill a hole in my
skull, right?" 

 "To save your life and reduce the risk of brain damage, yes." 

 "Brain damage?" 

 "Pressure on the brain can lead to serious brain damage." 

 "Or even death?" 

 "Yes, even that." 

 "Fuck." 

 Ben squeezed his hand reassuringly. "That's why I didn't want to say
anything right away. Dr. Jenson wants all the results back before he
discussed the possibilities with you." 

 "But he discussed them with you?" 

 "After my persistence, he told me about the condition and I happen to
know a little about it. I had a childhood friend, David, who had to have
surgery after running his sled into a tree." 

 "He make it?" 

 "Yes, thankfully, he did." Ben paused and leaned in closer. "I wasn't
trying to be deceitful or hide anything, Ray. I just wanted to wait for
all the information first." 

 Throat dry, panic building, Ray shuddered involuntarily. "I don't want to
have my brain cracked open, Ben." 

 "I don't think that will happen." 

 "You don't know that it won't." 

 "Whatever happens, Dr. Jenson is an excellent neurologist. In all
likelihood, you'll simply stay here for observation. If you don't develop
any new symptoms and the clot remains small, you'll be released to rest at
home for at least a week. Then you'll return for re-evaluation and more
tests after that." 

 "You say it like it's no big deal." 

 "Oh, it's a very big deal, Ray, and I know you're frightened." 

 "Scared shitless." 

 Ben brushed the back of his hand along Ray's cheek. "You need to rest,
Ray. The body has an amazing ability to heal itself. I have every faith
that you'll be fine." 

 Ray squeezed his eyes shut, his voice shaky. "When I was a kid, we used
to live in this rundown trailer park near a railroad track. Trains went by
off and on all day. Loud fuckers, too. Used to rock the whole place, and
shake, rattle, and roll me awake half the night. That was okay though,
because a lot of times I'd be dreaming bad dreams, stuff I don't even like
to think about. That's what this feels like, like I'm stuck in this dream,
but the trains all stopped running and I'm trapped. I can't even open my
eyes and pretend like I'm awake." Before Ben could speak, Ray shook his
head. "Do me a favor." 

 "Anything." 

 "If something happens..." 

 "Ray, please..." 

 "No, I mean it, if something happens, promise me you'll do your best to
get back home." 

 "Ray, first of all, nothing's going to happen." 

 "You don't know that, Ben. You don't know every fucking thing that's
going to happen. Fuck that, it's all going to be okay just because you
want it to be okay shit. The world doesn't work that way. Just the
opposite. Shit happens." 

 "Ray, please calm down." 

 "I am calm, calm enough to know that you should take Dief and head back
North, go dogsledding, track caribou, do all those things you dream about
doing." 

 Ben pulled away and gripped the rail with both hands. "Dear God, Ray, do
you really think I want to go back to Canada alone?" 

 "Well, no, but what I'm saying is..." 

 "I know what the hell you're saying. You're saying you think you're going
to die and leave me on my own again. Well, to coin one of your favorite
expressions, Ray, fuck that." Suddenly ferocious, Ben leaned in, face to
face with Ray. "I swear to you on the honor of the Royal Canadian Mounted
Police that when I next return home, you'll be by my side." 

 The lump in his throat made it damn hard to swallow. "Mean that?" 

 "Absolutely." 

 "You really think I'm going to be okay?" 

 "I believe it with every fiber of my being, Ray, but your undying
pessimism is enough to truly try my patience at times." 

 "You saying I'm driving you crazy?" 

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

 "Crazy enough to hear dead guys?" 

 Startled, Ben got very quiet. "What?" 

 "I'm just saying, that if something did happen, you think you'd hear me
like you do your old man?" 

 "Honestly, Ray, please stop this." Ben's eyes misted over, his voice
choked. "I really don't think I could stand losing you." 

 Stubborn, but finding comfort in the idea of Ben somehow being able to
hear and see him after he died, Ray kept going. "I'm serious." 

 "So am I. You're going to be fine, Ray, despite your morbid
propensities." Ben kissed his forehead and whispered, "Now, rest. I'm
going to track down Dr. Jenson and see if he can explain any of this
better than I did." 

 Ray grabbed his hand, ignoring the pain of his damaged knuckles. "Don't
worry. I'm not planning on checking out, but I just want to know, would
you go back home if something did happen?" 

 Sighing heavily, Ben shook his head, his lips curved into a thin smile.
"Home is with you, Ray." 

 "You believe that?" 

 "I do." 

 Ray smiled and lay back, stronger and less afraid. "Yeah, yeah, I feel
the same way. Feels good." 

 "Yes, Ray, it feels very good." 

 "It'll feel better when I get my ass out of this place, but for now, I'll
take what I can get. Now, go get Jenson and stay close. You can translate
the medical gobbledegoop." 

 "If you'll promise to keep an open mind." 

 Ray snorted. "Having a hole in my head's pretty damn open, Ben." 

 Shaking his head in exasperation, Ben headed out the door swearing a
whole string of weighty Mountie curses under his breath.  

 Waiting to see if his brain would leak out his ears made Ray cranky as
hell. "You feed Turtle?" 

 "I fed Turtle." 

 "You turn on his light before you left? He doesn't get enough light, he
gets a soft shell." 

 Ben moved from the window and stood by the side of the bed, his
impassive, patient face getting a tough workout. "I turned on the light
and set the timer. Turtle's fine." 

 "Okay, okay, that's good. You feed him the fancy food or the plain
stuff?" 

 "Ray, I gave him the same food you always give him, the flakes in the
gold box." 

 "Okay, good. What about clothes? I've got to have clothes to wear when
they spring me." 

 "You're not ready to go home yet, Ray, but I brought you everything you
need to wear when you do leave. Just relax." 

 "I'm relaxed." 

 "In what universe?" 

 "Hardy har har. Very funny." Ray closed his eyes and shifted, his body
achy and stiff from being in bed for so long. "I'm hungry." 

 "I'm not surprised. You haven't eaten much of anything since you were
admitted. Supper isn't for a few more hours. I'll go downstairs and get
you a sandwich." 

 "No, I mean, I'm hungry to drink." 

 "Hungry to drink?" 

 "Yeah, you know, that word, that word that means you want to drink
something." 

 "You mean you're thirsty?" 

 "That's it." Ben stilled and Ray opened his eyes, his partner's face
suddenly more serious. "What?" 

 "Nothing. Would you like some water or juice?" 

 "Don't care, just something wet." Ray ran his tongue along his chapped
lower lip, his throat cottony and dry. He tried distracting himself. "Tell
me about the case." 

 Ben poured him a glass of water and then raised the head of the bed a
little bit. "Sit up and drink this first." 

 Ray guzzled all of it without stopping, but it didn't seem to faze his
thirst or make his thoughts any clearer. "Tell me what's going on with
whatshisname." 

 "You mean Mr. Carver?" 

 "Yeah, yeah, the fire guy." 

 "Ray, you should probably be resting, not worrying about the case. Lt.
Welsh and the others can handle it for now." 

 "I know that. I just want to know what's up. I'm stuck here. It's not
like I've got better things to do." 

 Ben put the glass down and then leaned against the rail. "He's been
charged with four counts of arson and two counts of attempted murder of a
police officer." 

 "Sounds about right." 

 "His father wants his lawyer to plead diminished capacity due to a mental
illness." 

 "Mental illness my ass. The kid was pissed at his old man and wanted to
get even." 

 "Perhaps, but it may be more complicated than that." 

 Ray saw it coming and wanted to scream. "Don't fucking tell me the DA is
going to make a deal with this asshole." 

 "It's out of our hands now." 

 "Fuck that, Fraser. He beat the shit out of us and then tried to burn us
alive. They can't make a deal over shit like that." 

 "The young man apparently has a long history of mental illness." 

 "Then how come we didn't know that?" 

 "Because his juvenile records were sealed and medical records are
confidential." 

 "Fuck. That's what Macklin was hinting at before. He knew all along who
it was. We should haul his ass in for being a...a.....a whatdoyoucallit
when they help the bad guy?" 

 "Accessory?" 

 "Yeah, yeah, that." 

 "I don't think Macklin was an accessory, Ray. He may have suspected
Carver for the crime, but that doesn't mean he aided him in any way." 

 "Then we should get him on that other thing, that obstruction thing. He
should've given us a name, not the run around." 

 "I seriously doubt we could prove that charge, either." 

 His heart racing and his forehead about to explode, Ray dropped his head
back to the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut. "This sucks. This whole
fucking job sucks." 

 "Sometimes it's very frustrating." 

 "Fuck frustrating. The guy almost kills us and they let him off." 

 "They didn't let him off, Ray. He's in the hospital for psychological
evaluation. If he doesn't go to prison, he'll be in a mental health
facility for a very long time. I assure you that Lt. Welsh says they're
doing everything they can." 

 "Whack'im with a lead pipe, that's what they oughta do." Ray took a deep
breath and coughed. His ribs ached and he sat a little straighter. "More
water." 

 Ben gave him another glass and Ray finished it off before he spoke again.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to take it out on you. I just get mad about stupid
shit like that." 

 Reaching out, Ben cupped his cheek, the heat welcome against Ray's skin.
He traced Ray's bottom lip with his thumb before pulling his hand away. "I
know." 

 "Don't you ever get mad about stuff like that, that whole miscarriage
stuff?" 

 "Miscarriage?" 

 "You know, how justice gets fucked over." 

 "As in miscarriage of justice? Yes, I must confess to being very angry at
times." 

 "You don't show it." 

 "That's because I've spent a lifetime learning how to control and conceal
my emotions." 

 "Why?" 

 "Why what?" 

 "Why the whole control and conceal thing? I mean, I know you do that.
I've seen it firsthand. But that can't be easy and I know enough to know
that it's tough on a guy to hide what he's feeling. Sometimes it just all
explodes at once. Some little shitty thing happens, spilled milk, a broken
glass, and it's like the last straw. That's it, bam, bam, bam, that's all
she wrote. The guy loses it, hits his wife, hits his kid, shoots the
neighbor. I don't want to see that happen to you." 

 "Good Lord, no, Ray, I should hope not." 

 "You need to let off steam, let go more, so it doesn't twist you all up
and make you do stuff you regret later." Ray didn't want to talk about
punching Ben, how he'd lost his temper like he swore he'd never do, but he
had to say it. "Like that time I hit you. I swear to god, I hated myself
after that. I'm sorry." 

 "I know, Ray." 

 "I'd cut my fucking arm off before I'd ever do that again, understand?" 

 "Understood." 

 "So you've got to stop holding back so much." 

 "I appreciate your concern, Ray, but I'm not as demonstrative as you are.
I grew up in a home where expressing negative emotions was frowned upon
and punished." 

 "Punished as in they hit you or something?" 

 "Sometimes." 

 "They hit you for feeling bad?" 

 "They allowed brooding with a limited amount of sulking." 

 "Which you do like a pro, by the way, better than anybody I ever met." 

 "Why, thank you, Ray." 

 "I didn't mean that as a good thing, Ben." 

 "Perhaps not, but acting out in anger, that wasn't tolerated without
consequences. Even the rare incident of corporal punishment would be
followed by a period of enforced silence and reflection. Eventually, I
found it much easier to simply internalize or go out and chop wood or do
some other kind of strenuous activity." 

 "That sucks." 

 "At least it allowed me an opportunity to develop a personal discipline I
might not otherwise have had." 

 Ray got very quiet, the weight of memory hard to push away. "My dad used
to belt me sometimes, too. Hell, a lot of times when he was drinking." 

 "Belt you?" 

 "Yeah, you know, in the head when I wouldn't behave and got out of hand.
Knocked me out once, rattled my brain for a week. Couldn't think straight,
got in trouble at school for not paying attention. My mum put her foot
down after that. Didn't stop him from hauling off when he got really
pissed though. Sometimes I didn't even know what I did that set him off. I
was a rowdy kid, always running around breaking stuff and screaming for no
good reason, just having fun, you know, but I learned early to walk soft
around the old man." 

 Ben stood straighter, his face flushed with anger. "My god, Ray, your
father actually knocked you unconscious?" 

 "He didn't mean it. I was just a kid." 

 "I think that's the whole point, Ray. You were a child." 

 "You just said your grandparents hit you, too." 

 "They spanked me, Ray. It's hardly the same thing as striking a boy with
enough force to cause unconsciousness." 

 "That only happened a few times." 

 "It happened more than once?" 

 "Yeah, but that was a long time ago. He stopped drinking and it got
better and by that time I had Stella. I could hang out with her and give
him some space." Ray scooted down in the bed, his eyes closed. "I don't
want to think about all that right now. To be honest, hitting me was the
least of what he did." 

 "I don't understand." 

 "I'm tired." 

 "Ray..." 

 "I don't want to talk anymore." 

 "Then sleep. We'll talk later." 

 "Don't be mad." 

 A hand petted his forehead followed by a light, feathery kiss to his
cheek. "I'm not angry with you, Ray. I love you." 

 "Love you, too." Drifting, Ray shut down the bad memories the best he
could. He focused instead on someday seeing Ben's world, a wide open, wild
place where he could be alive and not scared, not too damaged to enjoy
life and all it had to offer with someone who really cared.  

 "Constable, this room is off limits to visitors and patients." 

 Fraser turned, his arms wrapped around his chest. He stood straighter and
then put his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry, Dr. Jenson. I needed to
see Ray's x-rays." 

 An older man, mid-fifties, stepped closer and dropped a file on the desk
under the lighted row of x-rays. "I see." He scanned the wall. "How did
you get these?" 

 "I'm afraid I resorted to subterfuge. I relied on a diversion and then
took them when Nurse Wells was tending another patient." 

 "You realize I could have you suspended from the hospital." 

 "I realize that, yes, sir." 

 "But you did it anyway." 

 "I felt it important." 

 "Why? You're not a doctor. Do you even know what you're looking at?" 

 "Somewhat, yes." Fraser turned back to the x-rays and pointed at several
lines on Ray's film. "Here and here, are these hairline fractures?" 

 Reluctantly, Jenson played along and put on his glasses. He studied the
areas Fraser indicated before nodding. "Years old, but yes." 

 Fraser moved his finger to another line. "And this, is this also the
result of a skull fracture?" 

 "Yes." Jenson took off his glasses and stood straighter. "Look,
Constable, your partner has a long history of head injuries. This isn't
the first concussion I've treated since he's been a police officer. Over
the last eight years, he's had five concussions, two of those serious." He
waved a hand at the pictures. "These injuries came before that. He said he
played hockey and did some boxing when he was younger." 

 "Do you believe that?" 

 Jenson frowned and leaned back, his arms crossed. "The injuries would be
consistent with sports like hockey or boxing, but I must confess that some
of them do seem older. Why? What are you getting at?" 

 "I just wanted to confirm something I suspected." 

 "And this suspicion caused you to risk being thrown out of the hospital
when your partner needs you the most?" 

 Fraser took a deep breath, his heart heavy, not really sure what to do
with the information now that he had it. He just knew he needed to be
there for Ray. "I'm truly sorry, sir, but it was vitally important that I
see the extent of his previous injuries myself." 

 "Vitally?" 

 "Yes, sir." Fraser cleared his throat before he asked the next question.
"Those kind of injuries, the fractures and repeated blows to the head,
would those account for certain types of aphasia?" 

 "I have a feeling you already know the answer, Constable, but yes, they
would. Someone might have trouble processing language after only one blow
to the head, much less several. He or she might not understand language or
be able to speak. It might be more limited, where the patient can't think
of certain words or understand and translate certain phrases. They might
have trouble with reading or writing. Any of those might result from
Traumatic Brain Injury. Have you seen any indications of this in your
partner?" 

 "Periodically, in some situations, yes." 

 "Is this a new difficulty? Because, I've seen no indication of it in his
latest round of tests." 

 "It's not recent, no, and as I said, it's limited and somewhat sporadic."


 Jensen studied him closely, his lips pursed. He glanced at the x-rays and
then back at Fraser. "He didn't get those hairlines from hockey, did he?" 

 Fraser's gut clenched, his anger boiling up as he pushed it back down. He
wanted to stay calm for Ray's sake, but wished like hell he could take Mr.
Kowalski's head off. "I'm not at liberty to say, sir." 

 "Riiight." Jenson cleared his throat and reached up to take down Ray's
film from the lights. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see this breach of
conduct, Constable." 

 "Thank you, sir." 

 "You'll also be happy to know that the latest scan showed that the
hematoma is just a bit smaller. If there's no increase in pressure and he
shows no further symptoms over the next 24 hours, I'll check again and
send him home with orders for rest for the next week." 

 "That's good news then." 

 "Better than surgery, yes, but it's still a wait and see game for now." 

 "Understood." 

 Fraser stepped to the door, but Jenson stopped him. "Constable, you need
to know that if he has the kind of damage you suspect, then it's more than
likely permanent." 

 "I understand that, but Ray's been very good about compensating. As you
said, he's shown no serious diminishment of language skills." 

 "On the contrary, he talks a blue streak. I must say he has some rather
colorful expressions, too." 

 For the first time, Fraser smiled. "Yes, he does." 

 "And it's possible that the reason he uses a fragmented conversational
style is because his brain has compensated for the damage. The brain is a
remarkable organ. It can take a great deal of punishment and work around
that. I've seen miracles where people function with literally half a
brain. On the other hand, I've seen seemingly healthy people fall over
dead from a simple tap to the head or an aneurysm with no warning
whatsoever. I guess what I'm saying is that despite all his injuries, your
partner seems to be doing well, considering." 

 Fraser's throat tightened as he blinked several times against the sting
of unexpected tears. "Yes, considering." He didn't say out loud
considering Ray's father beat him senseless for no reason, might have
damaged his brain irrevocably. "Thank you for taking time to talk to me
about this. I would, however, appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything
to Ray about my indiscretion." 

 Dr. Jenson shrugged as he put the last of Ray's x-rays away. "I'd think
that would be up to you, Constable. It's been my experience that a good
partnership relies on trust. You and Ray seem to have that." 

 "I will talk to Ray about this, but not now." 

 "I understand, or I think I do. At any rate, I do have some other
patients to see." Jensen held up the packet of x-rays. "And I need to take
these back to the desk where they belong. I'll walk you out." 

 Fraser followed the doctor down the hallway, but instead of going into
Ray's room, he went into the public restroom. He stepped into a stall,
closed his eyes as he fought down the anger, the tears, the raw vision of
smashing Damian Kowalski's face in.  

 Ray rubbed his face with his left hand and ignored the tray of food in
front of him. Ben stepped back to the bedside. "Ray, you need to eat
something." 

 "You eat it." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Listen, I'm not even sure if that's chicken or fish, and that green
Jello, how many times do I have to say I hate green Jello?" His tough
voice lost some of its bite. "Besides, I'm not hungry." 

 "Are you still nauseous?" 

 "No." 

 "Would you like me to get you soup and some pudding from the cafeteria?
They have a nice chicken noodle and the chocolate pudding is actually
quite good." 

 Ray pushed the tray away and shut his eyes. "Maybe later." 

 "Do you still have a headache?" 

 "A little, not as bad." 

 "Can I do anything?" 

 "Go home." 

 "Go home?" 

 Ray opened his eyes and turned his head toward his partner. "You look
worse than I do, Ben. You need to go home and get some sleep." 

 "I'm fine, Ray. I don't want to leave you here alone." 

 "You could stay at my place," Ray paused, his voice hushed, "our place." 

 "Our place?" 

 "Yeah, I was thinking maybe you could stay at the apartment. Beats that
cot in a closet you've got." 

 Ben frowned. "Are you asking me to live with you?" 

 "Yeah, sort of, if you want. No pressure. It's just you're going to stay
anyway until I'm well, right?" 

 "Right." 

 "So why not make it longer?" Ben's hesitation answered his question. "You
don't want to. Okay, okay, I just jumped the gun, I guess. I thought..." 

 "You thought we could move in together and no one would notice?" 

 "I wasn't really thinking about other people right now." 

 "Ray, I'd love to live with you, but it's not about what I want or what
you want. There are other factors to consider." 

 Disappointed, Ray sighed. "Yeah, I'm Vecchio and you and him wouldn't
shack up. I get that. Don't like it, but I get it." 

 "Correct." 

 Ray fingered Ben's hand resting on the rail, suddenly unsure and
insecure. "But what if I wasn't Vecchio anymore, what about when he comes
back, you think you'll want to?" 

 "We have no idea when that might be." 

 "I didn't ask that." 

 "Ray, we haven't even discussed how you feel about being open about our
relationship once this assignment is over." 

 "I know. What about you? You want to be open?" 

 "My situation is different from yours, Ray." 

 Ray shifted a little to his side, catching the seriousness of his lover's
expression. "How? How is it different?" 

 "The RCMP doesn't discriminate against homosexuals the way the American
police forces do." 

 "So you could be out and not get fired, right?" 

 "Yes, and as I understand it, you would also be legally protected.
However, it's been my experience in the short time I've been in Chicago
that homosexual officers are, indeed, victims of discrimination despite
the rules in place to protect them." Ben's voice softened has held Ray's
hand. "It would pain me considerably to know you'd suffer if our
relationship became common knowledge." 

 Ray squeezed his hand and smiled. "But it'd be worth it. Besides, what do
I care if I've still got you as a partner?" 

 Relaxing, Ben leaned forward, his lips brushing against Ray's. He
whispered, "I'll always be your partner if you'll have me." 

 The earnest words warmed him up all over. "Oh, yeah, I'll have you. What
about you? You want me, too?" 

 "More than words can say." 

 "Good. Then it's settled. After this mess with Vecchio is over, then
we'll move in together officially." 

 "We have no idea how much longer that will be, Ray." 

 "Doesn't matter. In the meantime, you really should go home and get some
sleep." 

 "I can't do that." 

 "Why not?" 

 "I couldn't sleep knowing you were here without me." 

 "Worry much?" 

 "More than I used to." 

 Ray studied Ben's strained face and then cupped his cheek, the day old
whiskers strange on the usually clean skin. "I'm better. I can feel it,
like everything's a little more clear, not quite as grey and muddy." 

 "But I'd never rest knowing I might not be here if something did happen."


 "Worrywart Mountie, huh?" 

 "I'm afraid so, yes." 

 "Okay, then do me a favor." 

 "What?" 

 "Promise me that as soon as we get home, I can order a pizza." 

 "Pizza?" 

 "With pineapple, no lichen and blubber." 

 Ben actually smiled, his face beaming for the first time in several days.
"Pineapple it is, then."  

 Free of all monitors and IVs, Ray sat on the edge of the hospital bed,
his feet just barely touching the floor. "I can't believe they cut off my
boots. There should be a law or something." 

 "Ray, they don't have time to worry about your favorite footwear during
emergency situations." 

 "They could've at least tried to save'em. They were the best boots I ever
had, just right, no pinching. I could sleep in those boots. I loved those
boots." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. I understand completely how one can get attached to a
fine pair of boots." 

 "A Mountie and his boots are the stuff of legends, Fraser." Ray grinned
as Ben blushed. "You know, maybe I should try out some of those nifty tie
ups like you wear sometime." 

 "You want to wear my boots?" 

 "Actually, I was thinking of you wearing your boots and nothing else." 

 Ben blushed even more red and then cleared his throat, trying to maintain
composure and proper deportment and failing miserably. "Ray, please..." 

 "Please, what? You want me to tell you all the other stuff I've been
thinking about while I've been cooped up here doing nothing for days?" 

 "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of you getting dressed so
we could finally go home." 

 "And I could tell you there?" 

 "Exactly." 

 "Oh, I'm all over that. Hand me my pants." 

 Ben gave him the bag of clean clothes and Ray pulled out a pair of grey
sweatpants with disappointment. Sweats just didn't make a well statement
like jeans did. "Why'd you bring these?" 

 "You need something warm and non-binding. I thought those would be the
best choice. Besides, it'll save you having to change when you get home.
You can wear the sweatpants to bed." 

 Ray grinned, his Mr. Libido awake and suddenly thriving. "Bed, huh?" 

 Ben stood straighter and shook his head. "Ray, I meant for sleeping.
There won't be any sexual relations until the doctor says you're fit
enough." 

 Shocked, Ray couldn't believe it, couldn't believe his ears. "Do I have a
head injury or did you just say you're going to ask the doctor when we can
have sex again?" 

 "Ray, nothing of a sexual nature will happen until you've had another
scan and you're cleared for physical activity." 

 "You're kidding." 

 "I assure you I'm not." 

 "Fuck." 

 "I think not, Ray." 

 "You really think we can keep our hands off each other for a whole week?"


 Ben wet his lower lip, considering the question carefully, not meeting
Ray's intent gaze. "Perhaps we should consider it a challenge, a test if
you would, about how our love goes beyond the mere physical attraction
each of us has for the other." He stepped closer and lifted Ray's chin to
meet his eyes. "Besides, Ray, I'd never endanger your health, not for a
sexual release." 

 "Even if I wanted it, even when I feel better?" 

 "Even then." 

 Deflated, but not defeated completely, Ray turned his head and kissed the
inside of Ben's hand still cupping his face. "Okay, okay, I get that. I
don't like it, but it makes sense. Besides, if I kicked off while we were
doing it, you'd never forgive me." 

 "Dear Lord, Ray, don't even say that." 

 Ray captured Ben's hand as he tried to pull away. "Don't. I'm sorry. I
just can't think of a better way to go out than being with you." 

 His words choked, his eyes too bright, Ben leaned in closer. "I should
think when you're old and grey and I'm already in my grave." 

 Shaking his head, Ray pushed away the thought of ever losing Ben, of ever
being alone again. "I don't see myself as old, Ben. I never have. I'm not
saying it couldn't happen, but look at me, at what I do, how I live. Toss
that in with the way you are. Do you really see us growing old together
somewhere? Because I don't. But I'm selfish. I don't want you to die
first. I don't know if I could live with that." 

 "And you think I could?" 

 "You've lived with worse." 

 "Never." Both hands took Ray's face as Ben kissed him briefly, sweetly,
like just tasting. "Nothing could be any worse than losing you." 

 Breathing hurt more when he bawled like a baby, so Ray tried really hard
not to cry. He swallowed and blinked several times before he finally
nodded, his voice still choked up. "Same here." 

 "Good, now that's settled. Neither one of us wants to risk losing the
other." Ben stood straighter, clapping and rubbing his hands together the
way he did when he really wanted to get the ball rolling. "Our goal now is
to get you dressed and out of this place. Pants first and then sneakers." 

 "Sneakers?" 

 "Yes, I found a nice broken pair at the back of your closet." 

 "You mean broken in?" 

 "Broken in, yes, right you are, Ray. Broken in." 

 "Good, okay, sneakers will do." Ray took a couple of deep calming breaths
and coughed. "Ow, man, that hurts. I hate cracked ribs." 

 "I would think so. Very painful." Ben picked up the pants. "Present leg,
put on pants. Let's get started." 

 Ben's sudden shift to taskmaster didn't surprise him at all. Ray kind of
liked it, enjoyed the way Ben sometimes took over. Organized and efficient
didn't know what hit'em. Sure, sometimes it buttered his muffins, pissed
him off how domineering Ben could be. But overall, he preferred bossy Ben
to the sulky guy who didn't stand up for himself when he should, the guy
who let someone like the Ice Queen walk all over him, spiked heels and
all. 

 "Ray? Leg?" 

 "Sure." Ray lifted his leg and smiled while Ben worked up a sweat to help
him dress without getting too excited. Even from a hospital bed, Ray could
see it wasn't going to be easy and somehow that pleased him.  

 Ray rolled over and groaned, wrapping his arm protectively over his
damaged ribs. It still hurt like a son of a bitch to move. Fuck. Being in
his own bed helped, but didn't eliminate the pain, just the embarrassment
of showing off his butt in that stupid ass hospital gown. 

 Dief woofed from the doorway and Fraser stood there smiling. "How are you
feeling?" 

 "Better. Not great, but better." 

 "Good. Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot." 

 "Sure. Give me a minute to get there." 

 "Stay put. I'll bring it in here." 

 "I can come to the table." 

 "May I suggest a compromise?" 

 "Compromise?" 

 "Yes, a give and take, a..." 

 Ray closed his eyes, his patience sorely tested. "I know what a
compromise is, Fraser." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. I just wanted to suggest that perhaps you could lie on
the sofa for a while. A change in venue sometimes allows for a lighter
mood." 

 "Lighter mood? You saying I'm in a lousy mood?" 

 "As would be expected during an extended convalescence for someone who is
normally active." Ben stepped closer to the bed and sat on the edge of the
mattress, his back to Ray. "When I was recovering from my bullet wound,
there were many times when Ray's efforts to make me more comfortable or
simply to be companionable only made me more melancholy and on some days
even close to irrational." 

 "Come on, Ben. Sure, that melawhatever, yeah, I can see that. You can be
that on a good day, but irrational, not on a bet. You're the most logical,
rational guy I know." 

 "Thank you, Ray, but in all honesty, there are, indeed, times when I can
verge on the irrational." 

 Forgetting his own troubles for a minute, Ray shifted on the pillows to
sit up. "Okay, now I have to know, now I have to know what it is you think
would be irrational." 

 "Well, for one thing, I took a perverse pleasure in the fact that Ray got
shot protecting me while I was still in the hospital." 

 "That's not irrational. That's just human nature, tit for tat, even
steven." 

 "That's what he said." 

 "You told him how you felt?" 

 "Of course, Ray. It wouldn't have been right not to. I think it helped
assuage some of his own guilt for shooting me in the first place." 

 "Probably. Now, what else?" 

 Ben leaned back a little against the headboard, but kept his feet safely
planted on the floor. "Well, I have to confess, I was afraid I'd never
return to active duty, that I'd be forced to serve at a desk. I can do
many things, Ray, but to never work out in the field again, I don't know
if I could do that. I spent a lot of time contemplating how my life might
be if I left the service." 

 "You mean give up being a Mountie?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Now, that's irrational." 

 "As I said." 

 Ray reached over and took Ben's hand. He squeezed it gently and then let
go. "Okay, so this is your way of telling me to stop being so cranky about
having to take it easy for a few days, right? That sometimes I might not
be thinking too straight because I've got all this other stuff, these
other worries, in my head?" 

 "It's possible that the irritability is directly related to your injury
and your other concerns, yes." 

 Ray crossed his arms around his chest and closed his eyes. "I just hate
this whole stay in bed until your muscles turn to mush bit." 

 "Better your muscles than your brain." 

 "Good point." 

 "Besides, Ray, you've got excellent muscle tone." 

 Glancing to his side, Ray caught Ben's hungry look. "Like what you see?" 

 "Very much so." 

 "Same here." Ray pointed at Ben's feet. "You can put your boots on the
bed, Ben. They won't hurt anything. Or you can take them off and rest
easy." 

 Instead of complying, Ben stood up. "No, I think it's better that I go
get the coffee. Would you like me to help you to the sofa?" 

 "No, I can manage. Thanks." As Ben stepped towards the door, Ray spoke to
his back. "It's okay to get comfortable, Ben. This is your place, too,
whether Vecchio's back or not." 

 Turning in the doorway, Ben nodded his understanding, but then left for
the kitchen without saying a word. The silence continued once Ray got to
the living room and settled on the sofa. Ben handed him his coffee and
then sat in the chair, still quiet, still not quite Ben. "Did I say
something wrong? You seem rattled, like I said something really shitty." 

 "No, Ray. You said something very kind. I appreciate it." 

 "Kind? You think me asking you to be comfortable is being kind, like I'm
just being polite or something?" 

 Leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, Ben's soft voice filled
the room. "I want to be with you, Ray, but this situation is fraught with
temptation." 

 "You won't do anything I don't want." 

 Startled, Ben stared at him and then shook his head. "No, I didn't mean
sexual temptation, though that might be part of it. I'm saying that I'm
afraid that if I get too comfortable, I might be tempted to forget the
continued artifice we're forced to maintain." 

 "You mean me being stuck as Vecchio and you and me just being cop
buddies?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Welcome to the world of undercover, Ben. You have to learn to live in
two worlds, in here and out there." 

 "I fear I don't have the talent for subterfuge that you do, Ray." 

 Ray snorted. "Come on. What about that stuff you pulled with Cahill? He
wanted to nail my balls to the wall and he would have if you hadn't done
that whole ruse with the letter. Pulled my ass out of the fire." 

 "But that was just a short-lived situation, Ray. How can I be sure that I
won't do something to alert others of our changed status?" 

 "Can't give you a guarantee, but I'd bet all the air in Canada that if
anyone can pull this off, you can." 

 Ben leaned back enough to crack his neck. Then he relaxed with a thin
smile. "That's a lot of air, Ray." 

 "Yeah, but I've got a pat hand." 

 Ben didn't argue, just sat back and considered the situation. Ray could
almost see those Mountie wheels turning. He just prayed they were all
rolling in his direction.  

 Jerking awake, Ray bit back a cry as he ducked for cover, his arms over
his head. Fuck, he hated dreams in Polish. Drenched in a cold sweat, he
sat up slowly, his hands still shaking. 

 "Ray? Are you all right?" Ben stood at the end of the sofa, his face
grim. "You were dreaming." 

 "Yeah." 

 "I didn't know whether to wake you or let you sleep." 

 "Tough call." 

 Ben settled on the couch beside him, his hand on his arm. "What was it?" 

 "Nothing." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Just a bad dream, that's all, just shit I don't want to talk about." 

 "It might help to talk." 

 "It's old stuff, stuff that's over and done with." 

 "Not that over and done with if you're still dreaming about it." 

 Ray shook his head, fighting off the lingering tension from the dream,
the voices screaming in Polish still ringing in his head. He shuddered
involuntarily and then sagged back, his arms crossed around his chest. "My
dad's mum died when I was real little, so my grandfather lived with us for
a while. He only spoke Polish." The words stalled as he closed his eyes,
the angry voice in his head still yelling, still threatening. "He was an
asshole." 

 "Worse than your father?" 

 Surprised by the question, Ray opened his eyes and stared at Ben. "What?"


 "I said..." 

 "I heard what you said. You called my dad an asshole." 

 "Not directly." 

 "Directly, indirectly, he might be an asshole, but that's my call, not
yours." 

 "Understood." 

 Sitting back up, Ray ran a nervous left hand through his remaining hair.
"Look, my grandfather belted my dad around. They used to have knockdown
drag outs right in the trailer. The whole place shook. The old guy never
fucking let up." 

 "They actually came to blows?" 

 "Didn't I just say that?" Ray swallowed hard and controlled his rising
tempter. "I'm sorry. I hate talking about it. I remember hiding in the
closet a few times, but most of the time I just hid behind my mum. She
cried a lot. I hate remembering that." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. That had to be disturbing." 

 "It's funny. I don't speak Polish, but I remember all the words they
said. I even went to a translator once, just to see what they were saying.
Big mistake." 

 "Why?" 

 "It embarrassed the translator, and me, too, when she told me what it all
meant." 

 "Ah." 

 "Yeah. The details don't matter, but all that shit keeps showing up in my
head, old voices. Don't know why. My grandfather died when I was eight." 

 "Did things get better after he died?" 

 Ray stiffened, the memories like busy ants all over his skin, crawling
and biting. "Not really." 

 "Is that when your father started hitting you?" 

 "He started drinking and got laid off. He was depressed, I know that now,
but I was just a kid. I didn't understand what was going on. Half the time
he'd take me to ballgames, teach me to work on cars, be a real dad. But
the other half, he was whacking me across the fucking room. I never knew
what to expect." 

 "Why didn't your mother leave him?" 

 "We're Catholic, or at least my mum is. I mean, she bought the whole
party line, the whole for better or for worse, no matter what thing."
Ray's voice took on a harder edge. "And don't try to put this on her,
because she did the best she could. It wasn't her fault that..." 

 "That what? That your father beat you? Ray, how many cases have you
covered where the wife used that excuse for staying with a man who
mistreated the children?" 

 Ray took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. "It's not the same
thing." 

 "Why not?" 

 "It's just not. Leave it alone. That was a long time ago." When Ben
didn't answer, Ray opened one eye and peeked over. Ben still stared at
him, his expression solemn. "What?" 

 "I'm upset." 

 "With me?" 

 Ben's hand captured Ray's, the touch gentle but firm. "Not at all. With
your father. I've read the books, seen the cases, but never truly
understood the dynamic." 

 "Dynamic?" 

 "How a parent abuses a child, but the child often dismisses or forgives
the parent." 

 Suddenly angry, Ray jerked his hand away. "My dad didn't abuse me. Don't
say that." 

 "What would you call it?" 

 "Spare the rod, spoil the child. He was tough. I fucked up and he made
sure I didn't do it again." 

 "Ray, Ray, Ray, what would you do if you saw a man knock his child
unconscious under the guise of discipline?" 

 His anger drained away and Ray moved to sit in the chair opposite Ben.
"Okay, okay, so he did something pretty bad. So what? I lived, grew up,
got over it." 

 "But you haven't gotten over it, Ray." 

 "What do you mean?" Ben didn't answer right away so Ray pressed harder.
"Tell me what the fuck you mean." 

 "I believe those early blows to your head caused damage." 

 "You mean like the way I can't read so good and have to work like a dog
to write a sentence? Like how sometimes I know a word in my head clear as
a bell, but can't say it without fucking up?" 

 Ben studied him, obviously surprised by Ray's answer. "You already know?"


 "Like I said before, Ben, I may be damaged, but I'm not stupid. I know
what my dad did. Took me a while to figure it out, but I finally got it." 

 Incredulous, Ben shook his head. "Then how can you forgive him? How can
you talk to him about your car and hockey games like nothing ever
happened?" 

 "Because he's my dad." 

 "Like that's license for abuse?" 

 "No, I'm not saying that. I know he's not a great guy all the time, but
he's the only dad I've got and my mum's still married to him. I'm not
trying to make excuses, but we can't pick our dads, Ben. Not everybody
gets to have a super Mountie pop like you got." 

 Sobered, Ben shook his head. "Ray, you have no idea how much I realize
that." 

 "What's that mean?" 

 "It means, all sons and fathers have problems. My father and I were no
exception, but he never abused me. Neither did my grandparents. Blood
doesn't excuse that kind of behavior." 

 "Didn't say it did. I'm just talking about my old man. He's all I've got,
Ben. I just got him back. I don't want to lose him again because you're
pissed about how he used to be." 

 "I'm not angry, Ray." 

 "Yes, you are." 

 "No, I'm just concerned." 

 "You're pissed." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Admit it. You're pissed at my old man and you want to sock him." 

 Aggravated, Ben yielded. "All right, all right, have it your way. I am
angry. He had no right to do that. He should've been stopped and brought
to justice." 

 "Maybe today he would be, but those were different times. Back then a
woman didn't have a place to go. They didn't have the social services and
shelters. Plus, my mum's family is all gone and then there's that whole
church thing. It wasn't her fault." 

 "That's the second time you've said that. Do you really believe your
mother had no responsibility to protect you from your father?" 

 The words came out soft, almost choked. "She's a good woman, Ben." 

 "I'm sure she is, Ray, but she should've done something." 

 Ray didn't answer, just slumped back in the chair, his eyes closed and
blocking out the fever pitched voices still screaming in Polish in his
head. 

 "Ray?" 

 "What?" 

 "I didn't mean to upset you." 

 "It's not you. Sometimes it takes a little while to get the dreams out of
my head." 

 "I've had the same experience." 

 Ray kept his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to distract himself. "Yeah?
Like when?" 

 "When my mother first died, I often dreamed of her. Even when I woke up,
I expected her to be there singing or holding me. When she wasn't, I still
tried to imagine it." 

 "But that was a good dream." 

 "Was it?" 

 The poignant tone caught Ray's attention, and Ray understood, knew
exactly what Ben meant. He opened his eyes and then moved to sit beside
his partner. Taking his hand in his, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Ben. It was
hard knowing it wasn't real, that it'd never be real again, right?" 

 Ben turned his head and met his gaze. "Dreams tell us a lot about
ourselves, Ray. I loved my mother and I couldn't give up wanting her back
for a very long time. Now I can dream about her and not be disturbed. You,
on the other hand, are still dreaming in Polish. You need to resolve
this." 

 "I have resolved it. My dad and I, we talk now. He doesn't hit me now,
doesn't even think about it. He knows better." 

 Ben nodded in understanding. "And the threat of violence comes full
circle." 

 Stunned, Ray pulled away. "What?" 

 "You father fears your violence." 

 "You saying if he didn't think I'd hit back, that he'd still be going at
me?" 

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

 "Fuck." Ray scrubbed his face with both hands and then sighed as Ben
draped an arm around his shoulders. 

 "Ray, it's all right. I just think it's important not to avoid the
issue." 

 "The issue being my old man's a scumbag?" 

 "I never called him a scumbag." 

 "What do you call a man who beats his kid?" 

 "Many things, scumbag included." 

 "See, same thing." Ray wet his lower lip, working hard to keep from
shaking. "It's just I want my old man to like me. I want to get along. I
can't bring this all up and put it in his face, I just can't. Don't ask me
to." 

 "I'm not asking you to do that." 

 Puzzled, completely baffled, Ray scratched his head. "I don't get it.
Then what's this about? What do you want?" 

 "I just want you to be aware of it." 

 "Aware of it?" 

 "Yes, so that if a situation arises when you might need to react to your
father, you'll understand your response." 

 "That's it?" 

 "For now. Also, I must confess, I needed to discuss it, to try to
understand the situation better." 

 Ray nodded and took a deep breath. "Because it pissed you off." 

 "Yes. I don't do well with anger." 

 "I know. Makes you break out in a rash, like you might lose a bunch of
Mountie brownie points or something if you socked somebody in the jaw." 

 "Now, Ray..." 

 "Don't now Ray me. You know it's true. Being pissed makes you
uncomfortable, all antsy, like your boots need to be polished." 

 Ben shrugged and nodded. "I must admit, it makes me uneasy." 

 Ray hesitated. "Does it bother you when I get on a roll and start
pitching a fit?" 

 "I'm used to it." 

 "That's not what I asked." 

 Not meeting his eyes, Ben spoke quietly. "In the beginning, I will admit
that it was difficult. I thought perhaps the anger was directed toward me.
After a while I realized that it was an underlying aggression, an anger
born of frustration as well as a defense mechanism that has nothing to do
with me. So, while it bothers me when you get angry, I more clearly
understand the nature of it." 

 "But it bothers you?" 

 "Sometimes, yes." 

 Ray hated hearing that, hated what he had to ask next. "You think I'd
ever be violent with you?" 

 Ben lifted and shook his head, his gaze confident. "Never." 

 "I've hit you before." 

 "But never again. You promised me and I believe that." 

 "With all your heart?" 

 "With all my heart, Ray." 

 Swallowing back his own fear, his own doubt, Ray took a deep breath.
"Promise me that if I ever do it again, that you'll leave me unless I get
help." 

 Stunned, Ben's eyes narrowed. "What?" 

 "You heard me. Don't ever let me do that again." 

 "You won't." 

 "I heard my dad promise my mum so many times I lost count. Who's to say
I'm not just like him?" 

 "You're not your father." 

 "I hope to hell not, because if I am, I'd just as soon you shoot me." 

 Ben drew him closer and hugged him, kissing his cheek and then his mouth
gently. He pulled back, his easy whisper drowning out the Polish voices.
"I know I'm safe with you, Ray. Believe me." 

 Ray relaxed in his partner's arms, his eyes closed, drinking in the voice
of his future.	

 Van Morrison played on the stereo, his rough, Irish voice backed by
saxophone and some seriously wicked guitar. Ray stretched out on the
couch, his feet up, his arm over his eyes. Relaxed and happy, he enjoyed
just resting, thinking of Ben and listening to Van croon the day away.
Dief lay on the rug beside him, his head on his paws, snoozing. Oh, yeah,
he could do comfy. 

 The door clicked open and then shut as Ben walked in carrying the laundry
basket. Ray uncovered his eyes, still a little drowsy. He loved the view,
his vision more clear than before. Ben wore faded jeans and his Henley
under a blue and grey plaid flannel shirt. He made Ray's belly tighten,
his cock twitch with hunger. "Hey." 

 "Hello, Ray. Did you get any sleep?" 

 "A little, not as much as Dief." 

 "Ah, well, Diefenbaker has honed napping to a fine art." 

 "Yeah. No way to beat that." Quietly, Ben put the kitchen towels away,
but then came to sit in the chair at the foot of the sofa, his palms
resting on his thighs. He didn't speak, just sat staring off and looking
unusually tense. "What's up?" 

 "Taxes are up. Lt. Welsh's blood pressure is up." 

 "Cut it out. What happened? You look like the Ice Queen kicked you in the
nuts." 

 "Ray, that's unnecessarily crass." 

 Using his right arm, Ray shifted and sat up, pulling the blanket up to
his neck to keep warm. "Crass my ass. That's what you look like. You just
went to the laundry room. So what happened that's got you freaked out?" 

 "I assure you, I'm not freaked out." 

 "Then what? Somebody rob all the machines? Put a pink sweater in with
your shorts? What?" 

 "Nothing of that nature occurred, Ray. I'm just endeavoring to process
some things that were said." 

 "Process. Shit. Somebody say something to you?" 

 "Not directly, no." 

 "You overheard something?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Jesus, I might as well be a fucking dentist." 

 "I never knew you wanted to be a dentist, Ray." 

 "I meant, this is like pulling teeth. What did you hear, exactly?" Ben
cracked his neck and Ray got worried. "That bad?" 

 "Not entirely bad, no." 

 "Then what?" 

 "I'm not sure." 

 Ray buried his face in his blanket for about ten seconds before he tried
again. "Okay, okay, just tell me what happened. Let's start with who said
what." 

 "Well, as you know, I don't normally go around spying on private
conversations." 

 "I know, but..." 

 "But I put the wash in the dryer and went to the back of the room to look
out the windows." 

 Ray prompted. "Sure, sure. I do that. It gets boring waiting around. So,
you're at the windows in the back out of sight. Then what?" 

 "Well, I heard Mrs. Gomez from 2B and Mrs. Harrison from the first floor
come in. As Mrs. Gomez started to load her washer, Mrs. Harrison commented
that it was pretty obvious that they were together." 

 "They?" 

 "I came to interpret they to mean us." 

 "Oh." Ray didn't want to hear the rest, but figured he'd better. "Then
what?" 

 "Mrs. Harrison said that she didn't like the idea of having, I quote,
'two fags in the building even if they are cops', unquote." 

 "Fags? She called us fags?" 

 "I'm afraid so, yes." 

 "Bitch." 

 "Now, Ray." 

 "Don't, now Ray me, not about this. She's got no right to say shit like
that." 

 "There is the concept of free speech." 

 "What about live and let live and stay out of my fucking business?" 

 Ben didn't look up, but shrugged. "Mrs. Gomez did make a similar point,
though not quite in such a colorful way. I don't believe Mrs. Harrison was
happy about it." 

 "Fuck Mrs. Harrison. I can't believe that. Hell, I can't believe she's
even doing laundry with Rita." 

 Ben frowned. "Why is that?" 

 "Rita's Hispanic. You should've heard the old bag when she moved in with
Ricky and their two kids." 

 "You're saying her discriminatory remarks extend beyond orientation to
ethnicity?" 

 "Yeah, I'm saying that." 

 "I suppose that would explain why she left in such a disgruntled fashion
when Mrs. Gomez failed to validate what she considered a supportable
position." 

 Even with the blanket around him, Ray shivered. "I hate this. I hate that
you heard that shit." 

 "I must confess, it caught me off guard. I didn't expect that kind of
reaction from Mrs. Harrison." 

 "Why not? You think because she's old and bakes cookies, she can't be a
bigot?" 

 "No, not at all. It's just that she, herself, is Asian and her husband is
Caucasian. It makes it difficult to understand why she would harbor such
prejudices when she has likely experienced discrimination for being in an
interracial marriage." 

 "Who knows? It ain't easy being Kowalski and growing up around Pollack
jokes all the time." 

 Ben stared at him for a moment before moving to sit beside him. "I never
considered that before, Ray, that you might be victimized because of your
heritage." 

 "I survived." 

 "Yes, but I'm sure that it hurt your feelings." 

 Ray reached over and took Ben's hand, the strength of the contact
reassuring. "Sure, but no more than you probably went through being the
only white kid for miles around." 

 "Kilometers." 

 "Same difference." 

 "Well, actually, Ray, the conversion..." 

 "Fraser, you're missing the point." 

 "No, Ray, I'm not." Ben squeezed his hand and then kissed it. "It's not
easy being different. People aren't always very tolerant." 

 "Yeah, I know." Still holding hands, not wanting to let go, Ray pushed
again. "How did the thing downstairs end? Rita realize you overheard?" 

 "Unfortunately, yes." 

 "Damn." 

 "It was embarrassing at first, but Mrs. Gomez welcomed me to the building
and asked if you were feeling any better. She said she'd heard from your
landlady that you'd been injured in the line of duty. She wished you
well." 

 "Really?" 

 "Yes, and she even apologized for Mrs. Harrison's unfortunate remarks,
though, of course, it's not her place to do so." 

 "It was nice of her, though." 

 "Yes." 

 "So, it's a split decision." 

 Ben glanced sideways, confused. "Split decision?" 

 "Half and half, fifty/fifty, one for us and one against. It could be
worse." Ray laced his fingers through Ben's as he still held on to his
hand, still refusing to let go. "So, why'd you get so upset?" 

 "I suppose it was a number of factors." 

 "Such as?" 

 "I didn't expect to be the subject of gossip." 

 Ray snorted and then sighed as he leaned over and rested his head on
Ben's shoulder. "You don't think people talk about you?" 

 "Oh, I'm sure they do. I just don't expect to be privy to it." 

 "Good thing. Your ears might fall off." 

 "I find that hard to believe, Ray." 

 "Believe it. Sometimes I have to leave the break room when Frannie and
some of the others get on a roll." Ben's ears pinked up on cue. "See? And
you don't even know what they said." 

 "I would prefer ignorance on that front, Ray." 

 "Good thing. Might make your head too big for your hat." 

 Ben got even more pink but relaxed slightly. "I don't really care what
people think of me, Ray, honestly, but I do worry about what they think
and say about you. People see more than we think." 

 "And you think if women in the laundry room have picked up on us, it's
going to be hell trying to keep it from a room of crack detectives." 

 "Something like that, yes." 

 "Good point." They stayed quiet for a few moments as Ben shifted and put
an arm around Ray's shoulders. After a while, Ray whispered, "I don't care
what they think. I won't give this up." 

 "Neither will I." 

 "We just have to be more careful, that's all, make sure we keep the clues
to a minimum. No public displays of affection. We work the cases like
always, argue like always, keep up the show." 

 "That would be wise, yes." 

 Palming his hand over Ben's heart, Ray shut his eyes and snuggled in.
"But only in public, Ben. In private, no pretending, lots of displays of
affection." 

 "Understood, Ray." 

 "Good." 

 Ray drifted as Ben held him, kissing his eyelids tenderly, almost more
gently than Ray could bear without weeping.  

 Ray woke slowly, his head resting in Ben's lap as he lay stretched out on
the couch. He sighed and stayed put, his eyes still closed. "You make a
great pillow." 

 "Thank you kindly, Ray." 

 "Bored much?" 

 "On the contrary. I find watching you sleep fascinating." 

 "You are unhinged." 

 "Possibly, but I'm enjoying the condition." 

 "They say crazies are like that, happy being loony. Don't even know
they're nuts." 

 Ben petted Ray's hair as he spoke quietly. "I find reality such a
relative state, Ray. Who's to say who is totally sane? If enough people
believe a thing to be true, does that make the belief the reality or is
reality changed?" 

 "Hope you're not waiting for an answer." 

 "Not at all. Since my spiritual encounters with my father, I've found
myself needing to ask more questions of that nature." 

 "I'll bet." Ray finally opened his eyes and then let Ben help him sit up.
He held his head, the dizziness unexpected. "Whoa." 

 "Are you all right?" 

 "Yeah, just sat up too fast. Thought this part was over." 

 "Perhaps you should go to bed. It's after eleven." 

 "I just woke up." 

 "Still..." 

 "I'm fine." More settled, Ray shifted and got comfortable. "I want to ask
you something." 

 "What?" 

 "We haven't talked about what happened yet." 

 "Are you referring to what happened at the warehouse?" 

 "I'm talking about what happened before that, when we, you know?" Ray
made a sliding motion with his hand to explain his you know. 

 Fraser flushed slightly pink and then cleared his throat, obviously
uncomfortable. "Are you referring to our sexual encounter?" 

 "Yeah." Fraser crossed his arms and Ray tilted his head as he saw all the
signs of his partner closing off. "What's wrong?" 

 "Nothing's wrong, Ray. I just don't know what there is to discuss." 

 "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were embarrassed." 

 "I most certainly am not." 

 "Then what's the problem?" 

 "There is no problem." 

 "And Mounties don't wear red. Come on, you're uptight all of a sudden.
What's wrong?" 

 Ben closed his eyes and sighed. "It's not easy for me to talk about sex,
Ray." 

 "Really?" 

 "Really." 

 Ray eased a little sideways on the sofa, holding his ribs, to get a
better view of his partner. "You can do it, suck me off, lick me all over,
but you can't talk about it?" 

 Pink skin suddenly went scarlet. "I'm sorry." 

 "For what?" 

 Ben refused to look over, to meet Ray's eyes. "I just find it difficult
to talk about such things unless we're in a more intimate setting. Even
then, well, I must confess, I'm more proficient with performance than
exposition." 

 "Wow." 

 Ben's shoulders sagged as he repeated his apology. "I'm sorry." 

 Ray touched his shoulder and squeezed gently. "No reason to be sorry. I
think it's kind of cool." 

 "Cool?" 

 "Yeah, finally something you're not great at, but I'm not complaining.
Nothing wrong with your performance." 

 Still not looking over, Ben closed his eyes. "But I should be able to
discuss it. I realize that this is something I need to overcome." 

 "Would it help if we went to bed and then talked?" 

 "What is it you want to talk about, Ray, specifically?" 

 "I was thinking maybe we could, you know, tell each other what we like,
what we want. I figure when the doctor says I can go for it again, I want
to be ready." Ben dropped his face to his hands, a small groan escaping.
Ray changed the subject in a hurry. "Or we could just talk about curling."


 Lifting his head, Ben turned and faced Ray. His tongue darted out and wet
his lip as he considered his words carefully. "Ray, if we talk about
sexual appetites, I can't promise not to become aroused." 

 Ray wanted to laugh in relief, but he settled for smiling. He didn't have
an uptight, repressed Mountie. He had a horny one, instead. Way to go,
Ray. "Are you saying you're afraid of getting turned on?" 

 "Well, yes." 

 "So?" 

 "Ray, you know we can't have sexual relations." 

 "Yeah, but you weren't the one whacked in the head. Just because I'm on
hold that doesn't mean you can't get off." Ray leaned in, his voice
breathy. "In fact, I'd kind of like to see that, you all hot and bothered,
right beside me, jerking off." 

 Ben's eyes widened and his breath hitched. "You want to watch while I
pleasure myself?" 

 "Yeah, I'm one of those voyager guys." 

 "You mean voyeur?" 

 "Yeah, I like to watch." 

 Ben gulped, his face all flushed as he took Ray's hand. "I can do that,
Ray, but only on one condition." 

 "What's that?" 

 "That we wait." 

 "Wait?" 

 "Yes. If I do what you ask, it's likely that you, too, will become
aroused." 

 "Are you kidding? It's a sure bet." 

 "It's not safe to do that." 

 It was Ray's turn to groan. "Fuck. That's not fair, Ben." 

 "Perhaps not, but we need to be careful." Ben kissed his hand and
whispered, "Believe me, Ray, when you're able, I'll do whatever you want,
whatever you desire, for your gratification." 

 "But not now?" 

 "No, not now." 

 Ray dropped his head forward to rest against Ben's chest. "I hate this." 

 "Understood, but it's only a few more days. I have every confidence that
Dr. Jenson will clear you on Monday." 

 "Wish I had your faith." Ray's voice got lower, more choked, "I'm scared,
Ben. I keep thinking I'm going to kick the bucket and I'll miss out just
when I've found what I want, what I need." 

 "Ray, Ray, Ray, that's not going to happen." 

 "I want to believe that." 

 Ben drew him into an embrace and kissed his forehead. "You're just
tired." 

 "Don't sleep on the couch tonight. Come to bed with me." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Just to sleep. I won't start anything, promise." Ray squeezed his eyes
shut, the dark voices in his head telling him to stop being a baby, to
stop begging. 

 Ben didn't say a word, just stood up and drew Ray to his feet. They
walked together to the bedroom as Ray told the voices to shut up and fuck
off.  

 "Not bad." Ray wiped his mouth as he finished off his homemade chicken
soup. 

 "Thank you kindly, Ray. It's my grandmother's recipe. Of course, her
ingredients called for arctic tern instead of chicken, but..." 

 "But you go with what you've got, right?" 

 "Correct." 

 "I like the noodles extra thick like this, too. Plus, it helps that I can
smell again. Having a broken nose is hell on trying to taste stuff." Ben
got up and took the bowls to the sink as someone knocked on door. Ray
frowned. "We expectin' company?" 

 "I suggest we find out." 

 "Think I'll take a trip to the can." 

 "Ray..." 

 "What?" 

 "Let's see who it is first." 

 "I don't want to see anybody." And he didn't. He'd successfully avoided
Welsh, Frannie, and everybody else ever since he'd gotten out of the
hospital. He didn't want to talk about work or life outside the apartment,
not to mention he hated people seeing him when he looked like shit, half
his head shaved and his face still busted up. 

 Before Ray could get up to leave, Ben answered the door. "Ah, Mrs.
Kowalski." 

 "Constable Fraser." The words cut the air, brittle and cold. "I'm here to
see, Ray." 

 Ben stood straighter, his formal face in place as he stepped back and
gave her room to enter. "Please, come inside. Ray, you have a visitor." 

 "Yeah, yeah, I can see that. Hey, Stella." The voices in his head ran
around in a quick panic, wondering what the hell his ex-wife wanted,
wondering how much ass he'd be left with when she got done chewing it off.


 "Ray. God, you look terrible." 

 "Thanks, Stell. Makes me feel so much better to hear that." 

 Stella stood there a few awkward moments before she stepped closer. "I
need to talk to you, Ray. Alone." 

 "Gee, Stella. Rude much?" 

 Ben held up a hand. "It's all right, Ray, I need to walk Diefenbaker." 

 "You sure?" 

 "Absolutely." 

 "Thanks." 

 "No problem, Ray." Ben grabbed his coat from the closet and motioned for
Dief to follow. "Diefenbaker, let's go." The wolf looked first at Fraser,
then Ray, and then back to Fraser before yipping a quick refusal. He
shifted to sit up next to Ray's leg, suddenly very protective. 

 Ray patted his furry friend's head. "Go on, Dief. It's okay. She doesn't
bite. Much." 

 Reluctantly, Diefenbaker got up and went out the door with Ben. As soon
as it clicked shut, Stella started in. "You want to tell me what the hell
you were thinking?" 

 "Oh, by the way, I'm fine, Stella. Gee, thanks for asking." 

 She slipped off her coat and put her purse down on the kitchen table.
"Don't try to make me feel guilty for not coming to the hospital or
dropping by earlier. Lt. Welsh kept me apprised of your condition." 

 "Why bother?" 

 "Look, I didn't trust myself not to rip your head off when I heard about
that crazy stunt you and that man pulled." 

 "That man? You mean Fraser?" 

 "Ever since you've took this damn Vecchio job, he's done nothing but put
you in danger." 

 "Yeah, like I never did that myself." 

 "Not like this." 

 "Come on, Stell. Me getting hurt, that's got nothing to do with Fraser." 

 "Oh, stop it, Ray. Don't defend him. He's a menace. It's like he thinks
he's invincible. His case files read like a bad movie." She crossed her
arms, her face all twisted up like when she got ready to fight. "It was
bad enough you used to pull this kind of shit when we were married, but
you're worse now. I swear, every morning I'm shocked to hear you're still
breathing." 

 "Yeah, me, too." 

 Her face softened. "Ray, seriously, are you all right?" 

 "I'm fine, Stella, really. I got clobbered pretty good and the doctor
just wants me to rest up and take it easy." 

 Her lips tightened. "Ms. Vecchio told me you might need surgery." 

 "Frannie's got a big mouth." 

 "She's concerned. So am I, which brings me to why I'm here. I talked to
your mother." 

 "Fuck." Ray got up and moved to the sofa, his head falling back against
the cushion as he fought down his temper. "Tell me you didn't tell her
about this." 

 "I thought she already knew. Barbara has a right to know when you're hurt
like this, Ray. What if something happened?" 

 "I didn't want her to worry." 

 "She's your mother. She worries when you don't call." 

 "I meant to." 

 "But you knew she'd know you were lying if she asked how you were?" 

 "She always does." 

 Stella stepped closer, her arms still crossed. "Well, she knows now and
she's upset. You have to call her." 

 "Yeah, okay, okay, I'll call." 

 Settling into the chair by the sofa, Stella leaned in, a hand on his
knee. "You promise?" 

 "I promise." 

 "Good. Now, I need to say something and I know you're going to get
pissed, Ray, but I have to say it anyway. It's important." 

 God, Ray hated when she talked to him like he was six. "What?" 

 "I want to talk to Lt. Welsh about keeping Constable Fraser away from
you." 

 "What?" 

 "I said..." 

 "I heard what the fuck you said, Stella." 

 She removed her hand in a hurry. "Don't snap." 

 Ray bit his lower lip and prayed he didn't say something worse. "Look,
Fraser's more than my partner. He's my friend. He's saved my life more
times than I can count." 

 "Only because he got you in trouble in the first place. What is it with
you two? All you need are the damn capes. You're not superheroes. You
can't outrun bullets or speeding trains, or in this case even a lead
pipe." 

 "Don't start." 

 "Don't start? Don't start? You're the one with his head bashed in, Ray.
You're the one who might have to have brain surgery and who knows what
else." She stood up and paced the room, her arms around herself again. "I
know we're not married anymore, but I still care about you, more than you
care about yourself it seems like." 

 "You're wrong about this." 

 "Am I? Are you saying you would've been in that warehouse getting beaten
up in if he hadn't taken you there on some wild goose chase?" 

 "I love him." 

 Stella went stone still. "What?" 

 Ray swallowed hard, not sure if he could breathe. Finally, he said it
again. "I love him." 

 Her mouth fell open as realization hit. "Oh, Ray." 

 "I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it." 

 "Why do you do this to yourself, fall for all the wrong people?" 

 "I fell for you." 

 "My point, exactly." 

 Ray leaned forward, his head down, his eyes closed. "You can't tell
anybody about this, Stella." 

 "You think they'd believe me, my macho ex-husband and a Mountie? Jesus." 

 "I'm serious." 

 "I know." 

 Her unexpectedly soft voice brought his head up. "You know?" 

 "I've known for some time. I thought I might be able to stop it, but I
guess I'm too late. Hell, I was probably too late the first time he put
your life in danger, that first time when you two drove that burning car
into the lake. I see the way you look at him at the station." Her voice
choked. "You used to look at me like that." 

 "Yeah, yeah, I did, but you stopped looking back, Stella. What was I
supposed to do, be lonely for the rest of my life?" 

 "No, but, Jesus, Ray, the Mountie?" 

 "He's a good guy." 

 "I'm sure he is for a Canadian, but, Ray, he's a man." 

 "I noticed." 

 "Your dad's going to have a fit." 

 "I'm not telling my dad or anyone else for that matter, at least not
until this whole Vecchio thing is over." 

 Calmer, Stella sat down again, her hands together. "Is he going to move
in here or has he already done that?" 

 "He's just helping out for now. We both know we have to be careful." 

 "Then why tell me?" 

 "I trust you and I need you to know why you can't tell Welsh to split us
up." 

 "Even if it'd be safer for both of you, even more so now than before?" 

 "What do you mean, more so now?" 

 "The more you're together, the more likely it is that people will figure
it out. Face it, Ray, you're not good at hiding your feelings." 

 "Around you, yeah." 

 "Around anybody. How do you expect to keep this kind of secret working
with police officers day in and day out? And if someone finds out, then
what? You're supposed to be Vecchio, and last I heard, Vecchio's anything
but gay." 

 "We'll work it out." Ray leaned in closer, meeting his ex-wife's blue
eyes. "Don't try to split us up. You do, and I'll fight you every step of
the way, every inch, tooth and nail. I won't lose him, not because you
think it's too dangerous. That's just part of the job. Fraser's my
partner." 

 Stella sighed heavily and then stood up. "It's your life, Ray. I won't do
or say anything about Fraser." 

 "Thanks, Stell." 

 "Don't thank me. I'm not doing you any favors. Besides, I don't need the
fallout." 

 "Fallout." 

 "You don't think I'd get a major pity factor if it got out that my
ex-husband turned gay?" 

 "Never thought about that." 

 The crisp, hateful tone came back with a vengeance. "I'm sure you
didn't." 

 "I didn't fall for him to hurt you." 

 "Just don't hurt yourself, Ray. It's a bad choice." 

 "It's my choice." 

 She met his gaze for a few moments and nodded. "Yes, it is." She got her
coat from the back of the chair, slipped it on, and picked up her purse.
"Call your mother tonight." 

 "Yeah, I will." 

 "Good." 

 Hesitating, Stella stood by the door for only a moment and then left
without saying goodbye. Ray swallowed hard and then got up to lock the
door. Just as he did, he lost his balance and swayed sideways. He caught
and steadied himself against the wall. Before he reached the door, it
opened and Diefenbaker and Ben stood right there. Strong arms gathered him
up, holding him tight. "Ray, are you all right?" 

 "As long as you're here, yeah." 

 "Let's sit down." 

 "Let's not, not this second. Just hold me." Ben held him even closer,
Ray's eyes squeezed shut as he confessed in a whisper. "I told her." 

 "I thought you might." 

 "You're not mad?" 

 "No." 

 "Not even a little?" 

 "I wish you'd told me first, but I'm not angry, Ray." 

 "She wanted to split us up." 

 "Ah." 

 "Yeah, so I had to tell her." Ray lifted his head and caught Ben's
worried expression. "She promised not to tell." 

 "And you trust her?" 

 "About this? Yeah. And you're right, I should've asked. It just came
out." 

 "It's fine." Ben cupped his face, leaned in, and kissed him briefly
before pulling back. "You need to sit down. You're pale." 

 "Yeah, yeah, I feel pale. Stella does that to me sometimes." 

 "Makes you pale?" 

 "Yeah, sometimes." Ben helped him to the sofa and Ray leaned against him,
wrapped in his arms. "It's funny." 

 "What?" 

 "She said she already knew." 

 "You think she did?" 

 "She didn't seem shocked." 

 "Uhm." 

 "What's uhm?" 

 "I'm just surprised by her reaction." 

 "Me, too. I thought she'd hit the roof, but she didn't. She just doesn't
think we're right together." 

 Ben shrugged, but didn't ease his embrace. "I'm sure she doesn't." 

 "She thinks...anyway, it doesn't matter what she thinks." 

 "She thinks I'm a bad influence." 

 Ray nodded. "Yeah, well, she doesn't know I'm the one who's the bad
influence. I'm the one who wanted you." 

 "Nonsense, Ray. I wanted you first." 

 "I did." 

 "No, I assure you that my feelings for you have been in place for quite
some time." 

 Ray smiled and took a deep breath. "Yeah, well, as soon as I'm well, we
can be a bad influence on each other. How's that?" 

 Ben chuckled and kissed him before he whispered, "As you wish."  

 Ray put the receiver down, his hand still trembling. He closed his eyes
and then shook his head. "Shit." 

 "What, Ray?" 

 "My mum." 

 "I take it she was upset." 

 "She was crying." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. We should've called her sooner." 

 "Not we, me. I told you not to call. It's not your fault." 

 "Still." 

 Ray snapped, "My call, not yours." 

 When Ben didn't answer, Ray turned in the chair, careful not to move too
quickly to jar his ribs. "Sorry." 

 Ben patted the cushion beside him. "Come sit over here, Ray. Relax." 

 Ray made his way over and then leaned sideways against Ben as he spoke
quietly. "He's right. I'm a selfish bastard." 

 "Who called you that?" 

 "My dad. When I graduated from the academy, that's what he said before he
walked out and headed out to Arizona. Fuck. I made my mum cry. I'm such a
shit." 

 Ben wrapped his arms around Ray and pulled him into a hug. "You're none
of those things, Ray. You explained to your mother that you didn't want to
worry her." 

 "Which she called a crock." 

 "You can understand why she would, Ray. If something happened to you and
no one called me, I'd be upset as well." 

 "I said I was sorry." 

 "I'm sure she's glad you're alive." 

 "She wants me to quit." 

 Ben stiffened. "What?" 

 "She says she's got some money. She wants me to quit being a cop and go
back to school. Offered to pay for it." 

 "And what did you say?" 

 Ray lifted his head, wondering if Ben had lost his marbles or what. "You
listened in. What do you think?" 

 "I really did try not to eavesdrop." 

 "But you did." 

 "It was difficult not to overhear." 

 "And what did you overhear, Mr. Bat Ears Mountie?" 

 "I suppose that was when you told her to keep her money and buy a new
couch." 

 "The one she has is lumpy as hell, sort of like my head sometimes." 

 Ben squeezed him gently and then took a deep breath. "She was trying to
be helpful." 

 "Trying to run my life. She's always pushing for Stella and me to get
back together. She's got this idea in her head that we should get married
again and have a house full of kids so she can play grandma even though
she knows how Stella feels about kids. And she always wanted me to be a
teacher or businessman or something like that, anything but a cop." 

 "I thought it was your father who was so adamant about you not being a
police officer." 

 "Yeah, but for a whole different reason. Mum's just scared. She's afraid
I'm going to get knocked off." 

 "A reasonable fear for a mother of anyone in law enforcement." 

 "Or firefighting, or search and rescue, or the military. You can't go
around worrying about shit like that or you start second guessing and then
you'll really be in trouble. I couldn't stand being a desk jockey all day,
nothing but paperwork. It's just not what I'm about, what I want." 

 "I understand completely." 

 "Yeah, I know. We're junkies, you and me." 

 Startled, Ben looked confused. "Excuse me?" 

 "Adrenalin. We go out of our way to get a fix. Admit it. You love the
chase, the fights, the whole run for your life stuff." 

 Shrugging, Ben relaxed a bit more. "I can't deny there is a thrill to
capturing and bringing miscreants to justice." 

 "It's more than that. Fuck, Ben, face it, we'd both do this shit for
free. We just don't ever tell anybody." 

 "You think so?" 

 "Hell, with what we get paid, we practically do it for nothing anyway." 

 "That does often seem to be the case. Though, I must confess that before
Chicago, my needs were simpler and far less expensive." 

 "Before the doughnuts and pizzas to feed the wolf?" 

 Ben grinned. "Before that, yes." 

 Ray relaxed in Ben's arms, pushing away the lingering stress from his
conversation with his mother. "What's the cost of living like up in
Canada?" 

 "Cost of living?" 

 "Yeah, you know, if we got a place up there after you get transferred
back, how much is it going to set us back? I doubt they've got much need
for an ex-cop up north. Might take me a little while to find a decent job
that suits me, something that will let us be together. But I've got some
savings and I've got whatever I paid into my retirement." 

 "You want to live in Canada permanently?" 

 Ray pulled away enough to see Ben's face. "Well, yeah. If I'm jumping the
gun here, just tell me." 

 "No, not at all." 

 "Then why do you look like Frannie just planted a big sloppy kiss on you
in the squad room?" 

 "I supposed because I didn't expect you to be thinking about it in such
detail, as if..." 

 "As if it might really happen? Yeah, why not? I like thinking about it." 

 Ben frowned and then shook his head. "But you just told your mother you
didn't want to give up being a police officer." 

 "To go back to school, no, I don't. To move to Canada with you, no
problem. There are a lot of things I can do, Ben. I'm a good cop, but I
can do all kinds of stuff that'll let me still get a taste of the action."


 Cupping his face, Ben leaned in and kissed him, his tongue sneaking in
quickly before he pulled back. "Thank you." 

 "You're welcome. Now, answer the question, what's the cost of living
like? You get free moose burgers if you shoot the moose?" 

 Laughing, Ben embraced him and settled back against the sofa. "Depends on
where I'm posted. In remote areas, game is quite plentiful. In the more
urban areas, well, it would be much like here. As a member of the RCMP,
I'd be given service quarters for myself. Or I could rent something local
on my own with a stipend." 

 "Service quarters suck?" 

 "It never much mattered before, but for the both of us, yes, it would be
insufficient. Most of the married members either buy a home or rent during
their postings." 

 Ray shifted to rest his back against Ben's chest, Ben's arm wrapped
around his neck. He relaxed and closed his eyes, soaking up the heat
radiating off his partner's body. He liked the sound of that, married
members. Yeah, he could go with that. "So, you think people would have a
problem with you dragging your American partner along from post to post?" 

 Ben took several seconds before he answered. "I keep my private life
separate from my work, Ray. With whom I cohabit is none of their
business." 

 "You didn't answer the question. You think there'll be a problem?" 

 "I don't really know. Each post is different. In my experience, most
commanders don't make it an issue as long as the officer does his or her
duty. However, I'm not blind to the exceptions. I know it's very difficult
to maintain the right when your colleagues ostracize you, regardless of
the reasons." 

 "Like breaking the code and turning in one of your own even if the son of
a bitch is guilty as sin?" 

 "Even then, yes." 

 Ray stroked Ben's almost hairless forearm. "You did the right thing. It
must have been hard to get kicked in the gut because of it." 

 Ben didn't answer right away. After a few moments, he choked out an
answer. "You have no idea, Ray. All my life, I dreamed of only one thing,
to be like my father, to be as good as he was. When he was killed, it
never occurred to me to do anything but find the killers. I didn't care
who they were, because it shouldn't matter. Even when I found out that it
was Gerard, that my father had been betrayed by his friends for profit, I
couldn't stop. I told myself the consequences didn't matter." 

 "You saying you regret turning them in?" 

 "No, I'd do nothing different. What I regret is the disappointment. I
expected more from the service, more than being shunned for doing my
duty." 

 "I'd be pissed." 

 "The anger came after the hurt. Now, I simply accept it." 

 "It sucks. What they did was shitty, but I've seen it before. You turn in
a dirty cop and they treat a guy like he's worse than the scumbag who did
the crime. Doesn't matter that the crime's murder or even hurting another
cop. The guy becomes a leopard or something." 

 "You mean leper?" 

 "Yeah, that, like he's a disease. It's not right, never has been." 

 "Agreed." 

 They remained quiet for a little while until Ray whispered, "I feel
guilty." 

 "About what?" 

 "About being glad you got stuck here. I know it was kind of a punishment
deal, kind of like being banished from the magical kingdom, but if that
hadn't happened, I wouldn't have you now. I suck." 

 Ben kissed the top of his head and squeezed his arm around Ray's neck
with affection. "Then I suck, too. You've provided me great fortune in a
time of unjust exile and delivered me from a very dark time in my life." 

 "Then you're okay with being here until they're ready to take you back?" 

 "More than okay, Ray. As long as we're together, the setting doesn't
matter." 

 Ray smiled as he teased his partner. "So, you'd be happy stuck on a
mountaintop as long as you had me?" 

 "Yes, Ray." 

 "What about the bottom of the deep, blue sea?" 

 "Most certainly." 

 "In the desert?" 

 "Absolutely." 

 Ray laughed as Ben kissed the side of his neck for emphasis. "I like this
game." Suddenly more breathy, his voice husky, he whispered, "Let's go to
bed." 

 "Ray..." 

 "You said anywhere." 

 "I did." 

 "So, let's get naked and just cuddle." 

 "Not naked." 

 "Why not?" 

 "You know why not." 

 "Oh, yeah, head injury. Okay, okay, we'll just cuddle." 

 "Why don't I believe that?" 

 "Beats me." Ray couldn't stop his stupid grin. "Experience?" 

 "Seriously, Ray. We're safer right here." 

 "Safe's no fun." 

 "Perhaps, but you'll get no cuddle unless you promise to behave." 

 "Spoilsport." 

 "I'm trying to be reasonable, something I think you've forgotten
completely." 

 "Wet blanket." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Party pooper." 

 Sighing deeply, Ben hugged him and rested his forehead on Ray's shoulder.
"We can't risk it, Ray. I can't risk it. Please, stop." 

 Ray reached up behind him and patted Ben's head in sympathy and just a
smidgeon of regret for teasing so hard. "Okay, okay. I'll be good." 

 Ben lifted his head enough to lick Ray's ear before he whispered, "We'll
both be good, but when you're well, we'll be even better." 

 Ray shuddered, touched by the sexual heat and promise from the lips of
his partner. God, he couldn't wait to be better.  

 "I need a big hat." 

 Ben turned from the sink and looked over at Ray running his hand back and
forth over his remaining hair. "You could wear mine." 

 "Oh, yeah, like that would make the butchered look less noticeable." 

 Ben dried his hands, walked over to the sofa, and stood there. "You could
get a baseball cap. You've worn one of those before without people
commenting too harshly." 

 "Yeah, or I could just get a buzz cut all over. At least then, it would
grow back even." 

 Ben reached out, touching the remaining soft hair and shook his head.
"Please, don't." 

 Ray glanced up, surprised by the power and conviction behind those words.
"You really like the hair, huh?" 

 Ben's hand slipped down, caressing Ray's cheek, his thumb stroking the
lower lip. "I like the hair. I like you." 

 "Just like?" 

 "Oh, much more than like, Ray." 

 "Yeah?" 

 "Oh, yes." 

 Ray smiled and captured Ben's hand, drawing him down on the sofa with
him. "Guess the hair stays." 

 "Good." 

 "I've got a couple of caps. That'll work, at least until it grows long
enough to cover the scar." A wave of sadness washed over him and Ray
sagged back against Ben, his eyes closed. He loved the way Ben's arms came
around him automatically, no asking, no coaxing. Nothing like the whole
dance with Stella, having to work up to it and hope she was in the right
mood. None of that mattered with Ben. Ray needed a hug, Ray got a hug.
Simple. 

 "What's wrong, Ray?" 

 "Nothin'." 

 "Ray, your hair will look fine, aggressive as ever. It grows very fast." 

 "I'm not worried about the hair." 

 "Then what?" 

 "I've been thinking I need to call Drew Chandler." 

 "Drew Chandler?" 

 "My lawyer." 

 "Why do you need to call your lawyer?" 

 "I need to change my will and I want to give you my power of attorney in
case something happens." 

 "You have a will?" 

 "Of course I have a will. I'm a cop. All cops have a will. What? You
think I don't have enough sense to have a will?" 

 "Not at all. I...I'm sorry. It's just you've always been squeamish about
such matters." 

 "Just because I don't lick boots in the morgue or get turned on by
corpses, doesn't mean I can't deal with the reality of being a cop. I got
a will and I need to update it, make it right, put you in it." 

 Ben's arms tightened and he sighed, his voice tired and strained. "Ray,
you're going to be fine." 

 "Even if I am okay this time, what about next time?" When Ben didn't
answer right away, Ray sat up and turned. "What? You think it's a bad
idea?" 

 "No, Ray, I don't think it's a bad idea. I was considering a similar
course of action myself. I just hadn't decided whether I should broach the
subject at this juncture." 

 "Afraid to upset me?" 

 "Frankly, yes." 

 "You think I'm being morbid about all this?" 

 "I think you're concerned. That's only natural." 

 Ray nodded and bit his lower lip. "It's just, I've let things go when I
shouldn't. Stella's still my beneficiary on the life insurance and if
something happened, say I was on life support and somebody had to decide
whether to pull the plug, that would fall to my mum and dad. I don't want
that." His mouth dry, Ray forced himself to keep talking. "It's a lot to
ask, but I want you to be the one who makes that decision. I want you to
be the one who takes care of things if they have to be done." 

 "Understood. I feel the same way, Ray." 

 "Yeah?" 

 "Yes. I don't want to live on life support, Ray. To me that's not
living." 

 "Same here. I can't make it on my own, there's no hope, then just let me
go, adios, sayonara, hey, hit the highway. My mum could never do that and
she shouldn't have to." 

 "No, she shouldn't." 

 "So, you think it's a good idea?" 

 "Yes, I think it's wise." 

 Relieved, Ray took a deep breath and snuggled back in to Ben's arms. "I
was afraid you'd be freaked out." 

 "Why?" 

 "It was stupid. You'd never get freaked over something like this. Me, I'm
the one who goes nuts, the one who hates thinking about all this shit. It
scares me to think about dying, so I just try not to." 

 "It's part of life, Ray." 

 "Yeah, the worst part, over and out, doneski, the part I want to skip." 

 "To a degree, I used to feel that way." 

 "Yeah?" 

 "Until my father." 

 "Oh, yeah. I forgot." Ray smiled, his nerves a little more settled. "You
think there's something to this whole afterlife thing?" 

 "Either that or I'm unhinged completely. I must confess my own
trepidation from time to time when I consider our mortal condition, but
then after my father started making unscheduled appearances, that changed.
Now, I see more clearly the possibility of other planes of existence. I
think it's very likely that we live on after death." 

 "Together." 

 "Possibly." 

 "Ever seen your mum?" 

 "No, not yet." 

 "So your dad's not with your mum?" 

 "Apparently not." 

 "That sucks." 

 Ben shrugged but didn't let go. "That's not to say they won't be reunited
eventually." 

 "Meanwhile, your old man walks around looking?" 

 "Or meddling, as the case may be." 

 Ray chuckled to himself. "You're still pissed about what he said about
us." 

 "Well, he can be extremely irritating, Ray. Despite that, I must say that
seeing him from time to time does make it easier to accept the
inevitable." 

 "I'd still like to skip that part." 

 "Agreed."  

 Ray entered the apartment, no stitches, no headache, walking steadier
than he had for over a week. He took off his coat as Dief ran right past
him through the door and Ben stood beside him. "I told you you'd be fine,
Ray." 

 Hanging up his coat, Ray argued, "Do not do that, do not say I told you
so." 

 "But I did." 

 "You're not supposed to go around saying, I told you so, all cocky, all
smug like that. That's so not Canadian, so not Mountie-like." 

 "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way." Ben grinned and pulled Ray into his
arms as he whispered, "But I told you so." He kissed him gently at first,
but then deepened it, slipping his tongue in, hot and demanding. Ray
played his own tongue game a little bit before they parted. 

 "Bed, Ben." 

 Ben chuckled as he allowed Ray to grab his hand and drag him toward the
bedroom. "You're obsessed. You actually asked the doctor if we could have
sex." 

 "Hey, you don't know if you don't ask." 

 "What if he'd said no?" 

 "But he didn't." 

 "But if he had?" 

 Ray stood at the end of his bed and pulled off his sweater and T-shirt,
the bruises over his sore ribs yellowing. "Then I'm sure you would've made
me suffer through it." Ray stepped over to his still fully clothed partner
and growled. "God, I'm so fucking glad he said it was okay." 

 "As long as we're conservative." 

 Ray laughed, "Yeah, I can't believe he said no swinging on the
chandeliers for another week or two. The guy's a riot, like he thinks a
cop can afford chandeliers." 

 "I'm serious, Ray. He said that we shouldn't be overly strenuous." 

 "He said I shouldn't get too wild, but there's nothing holding you back."


 Ray ground his crotch against Ben's, his erection obvious. "Ray..." 

 "Stop talking, start taking your clothes off." Ray loved how Ben's eyes
darkened, the pupils so large that the blue almost disappeared, made just
a bright ring around the black. "Come on, Ben. Get naked and show me how
you like it." 

 "With pleasure." Ben never took his eyes off Ray, always staring all
hungry-like as he stripped off. 

 Ray sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back, enjoying the show.
"That's the way, fast and furious." 

 Standing there completely nude, Ben held his arms out. "Like what you
see, Ray?" 

 Mouth dry, Ray swallowed hard and then nodded. "God, you look hot." And
he did, all creamy smooth skin over finely toned muscle, all sculpted,
almost too perfect, like nobody Ray had ever seen except in old art books
at school. Even his cock looked different, thick and uncut, surrounded by
that dark bush, not like Ray's at all. Ray held out a hand. "Get over
here." 

 Ben stepped closer. "No fair, Ray. You're still partially dressed." 

 "Yeah, I guess you oughta do something about that, Ben." 

 "Indeed, I should." 

 Ben kneeled and took off Ray's boots first and then reached up to
unbutton and unzip. Ray's air thinned at the touch, at the tug that took
off his jeans and shorts at the same time. His ribs complained, but not
enough to make him slow down or stop. He wanted this, wanted it bad, like
he'd been waiting for fucking forever. Lying back on the bed naked, his
legs spread, he cupped the back of Ben's head and drew him up and over his
body. He loved the weight pressing down, not too heavy, but enough to make
his cock leak. Even Ben's smell turned him on, sort of like leather and
polish, fresh pine in the woods. 

 "God, I love you so much." 

 "I love you, too, Ray." With those words, Ben captured his mouth,
enslaved it with his tongue. Hot and powerful, moving in and out, all
around. Ben's cock lined up with Ray's and Ben set up a rhythm, a friction
between them, rocking Ray's body with his own. Fire zapped his spine, his
cock and balls burning as Ben shoved against him. Ben's mouth roved to the
side of his neck and Ray moaned as Ben alternated between kissing and
biting, the sensation like nothing he'd ever imagined, wild and buzzy all
over his skin. He couldn't get enough, his arms wrapped around Ben,
holding on, letting Ben do all the work. He rode the wave as it hit him,
just threw his brain into a tailspin, his heart pounding. The world
snapped, his back arched, release like a silk hammer to his crotch. 

 Then Ben jerked hard before he stilled and collapsed, both men holding on
with all their might, eyes squeezed shut. Air wheezed into Ray's lungs,
but just barely. "Sweet Jesus, Ben." 

 "Dear Lord." 

 Ray wanted to laugh, but didn't have enough oxygen to risk it. After a
few moments, Ben lifted his head and then licked a trail along Ray's
throat. "You're so beautiful." 

 "And you're so heavy," Ray whispered the complaint with a smile. 

 Ben rolled off, but never lost contact, his arms around Ray. "I wanted to
go slow." 

 "Next time." 

 "Right you are, Ray. Next time." 

 Ray relaxed, his body still humming with heat as he lay against the
furnace that was his partner. "God, that was great." 

 "Wasn't it? I usually like to take things slow, but, God, Ray, what you
do to me." 

 Chuckling, Ray buried his face against Ben's sweaty bare chest. "Same
here, buddy." 

 Ben reached over to get the wipes he'd put on the side table earlier,
taking care to clean them both. "We need to get under the covers. You'll
get chilled." 

 Muscles still weak from coming, Ray let Ben shift him under the blanket
and then relaxed completely, his head resting on Ben's chest. Lazy and
content, he flicked his tongue out to taste salty skin. Ben's breath
hitched as he shuddered. "Ray..." 

 "What? You're not the only guy who can lick stuff." 

 Ben's hand rested on the back of Ray's head. "I'm not complaining." 

 "Good." 

 Ray suckled a nipple and Ben whimpered. "Like that?" 

 "God, yes." 

 "Thought so. Don't call me a detective for nothing." 

 "I should think not." 

 "Don't think. Just feel." Ray shifted all the better to lick and nip at
Ben's nubs. He loved how Ben's breath got all raspy and his whole body
shivered as Ray took care with each one. He drew it up between his teeth,
not biting, but not quite gentle. Ben's cock twitched as it tried to
recover. "Just relax. I like this." 

 Ben didn't answer, just moaned deeper, his hand stroking the back of
Ray's neck pressing just a little bit to encourage him to continue. Ray
chuckled, low and throaty, "Oh, yeah, you like this a lot." 

 "Ray, please." 

 "Please what?" 

 "Your mouth." 

 "My mouth?" Ray teased Ben's belly button with his finger. "You want my
mouth?" 

 "Please." 

 The beg went straight to Ray's dick, the need so strong, it made him want
Ben to fuck him, to push inside and just do what he'd been dreaming about
for ages. The intense honesty of the thought startled him and he went
still. Ben lifted his head, confused. "What?" 

 "Nothing. Sorry." 

 "Ray, what's wrong?" 

 Ray cleared his throat, his mind reeling with the reality of what he
really needed. "I want you to fuck me." Ben's mouth fell open and Ray
laughed out loud. "Jesus, you look like I asked you to sock me." 

 Gathering his composure, Ben took several deep breaths. "Are you sure?" 

 "I'm very sure. I've dreamed about this, about you doing me." 

 "But have you ever actually had anal intercourse?" 

 The term really turned him off, shut down the revival of his dick real
fast. "Don't call it that." 

 "You prefer fucking over anal intercourse?" 

 "Well, yeah. When you say anal intercourse, it sounds so clinical, kind
of cold, like you're talking about something else." 

 Still lying on his back, Ben cupped Ray's face as he studied him. "I
suppose it does. Still, you didn't answer the question. Have you ever had
someone do that to you?" 

 Ray pulled away, unable to meet Ben's gaze. He rested his head on Ben's
chest again. "Not exactly." 

 "What does that mean, not exactly?" 

 "I've done it to myself a few times." 

 "Done it to yourself?" 

 "Yeah, you know, with a sex toy." 

 "Sex toy? I'm sorry, Ray, I'm not sure I understand. They make toys for
sex?" 

 "Okay, okay, it was a dildo, a rubber dick, okay?" 

 "Ah, I see." 

 Ray rubbed his whiskers against Ben's tender belly. "You see what?" 

 Ben's fingers played with the back of Ray's neck. "I see you like anal
stimulation." 

 "Yeah, yeah, I do. Stella called me a perv." 

 "Ray." 

 "Yeah?" 

 "Would you please not mention your ex-wife when we're in bed?" 

 "Oh, sure. Sorry." 

 "And it's not a perversion to enjoy such activities." 

 "I know, it's just, well, you know." 

 "Yes, I do." 

 Ben hugged him closer and kissed the top of his bald spot, right along
the stitch line. "I'd like very much to make love to you, Ray." 

 "Yeah?" 

 "Oh, yes. How would you like me to do it?" 

 Ray lifted his head, his stomach tight with anticipation. "You want me to
draw you a picture?" 

 Smiling, Ben shook his head. "With your ribs, I'd say on your stomach." 

 "Ass up?" 

 "If you like." 

 "Oh, yeah, I like." Ray rolled over onto his belly, the pillows lifting
his hips a little higher. He spread his legs as Ben kneeled between them,
running his fingers up and down Ray's spine and between his cheeks. Ray
shuddered involuntarily, the touch electric. "Oh, yeah, nice." 

 Ben stretched out and covered his back, his half hard cock resting
against his ass. His mouth devoured Ray's neck, his hands sliding up and
down his sides. Slowly, Ben sniffed and licked all over his shoulders,
down his back, using his hands to massage his asscheeks and the inside of
his thighs. When fully hard, Ben rose up and reached over to open the
bedside drawer. He took out the bottle of KY Jelly and a condom. "Ben, you
don't have to use a rubber." 

 "Yes, I do, Ray." 

 "I'm clean." 

 "As am I, but there are other things to consider." 

 "Like what?" 

 "Such as urinary tract infections and other communicable diseases." 

 "Never thought about that." 

 Leaning over again, Ben kissed the back of his neck and whispered into
his ear. "Believe me, Ray, it won't make a difference in your pleasure." 

 "And yours?" 

 "None whatsoever." 

 "Good to go then." 

 Ben chuckled and sat up, scooting back just enough between Ray's legs to
give a good position. Slicking his fingers, he rubbed them together to
warm his hands, and then ran his right index finger up and down Ray's
crack. Ray jerked at the touch, the delicious fire going up his middle,
his dick more than happy. Ben's finger pushed in, the burn making him want
even more. He added more lubrication as he fingered Ray's ass, Ray
trembling as Ben worked it in over and over, going a little deeper,
rotating it to relax the tight muscle. 

 Ray humped the pillow, going with the rhythm of the finger, jerking with
pleasure several times as Ben massaged his prostate. Ben removed his
finger and replaced it with something thicker, longer. He placed a hand on
Ray's hip and used the other hand to guide his cock inside. Ray groaned,
the pressure intense, more than he expected. Ben stopped and eased back.
"No, don't stop." 

 "Relax, Ray. I'm not stopping. Just take deep breaths." 

 "Sure, sure, I can do that." As he did, Ben tried again, this time more
slowly, being sure to use plenty of the lubrication, his hips shoving
forward and then pulling back, going deeper with each mini-push. The world
got dizzy, but with a good spin as Ben finally slid all the way in, his
chest pressed against Ray's back. Ray's voice betrayed his impatience. "Do
it." 

 Ben didn't bother talking, just started moving, his cock pushing Ray to
the edge more and more. Ben grunted and lifted Ray's hips higher, snaking
a hand between the pillow and his body. He fisted Ray's cock as he matched
his strokes to the thrusts into his body. The rhythm grew faster,
stronger, made Ray's head swim and his body quake. His heart racing, the
air like space, Ray came with an explosion of color, streamers blasting
off behind his lids. His whole body jerked with release, but Ben kept
pumping inside him, kept hammering his ass, aftershocks hitting him again
out of nowhere. He bit back a scream, his face scraping against the
sheets. 

 Ben gave one last slam before stilling, his whole body one big spasm
before slumping down with a umph across Ray's back. Still buried inside,
Ben rubbed his whiskers against Ray's shoulder as he croaked a weak, "Dear
Lord, Ray, I love you." 

 Trapped beneath a spent Mountie, Ray kept his eyes closed. "Me, too, Ben.
Thank god we don't have chandeliers. I'd never make it." 

 Chuckling, Ben withdrew, careful to hold onto the condom. He got the
wipes and gently cleaned Ray's backside and himself. He rolled Ray over
and got another wipe to clean his crotch and what he could of the wet spot
on the sheets. Ray snatched up a pillow, got comfortable, and watched in
amusement. "Don't like sticky, huh?" 

 "It only takes an extra second to avoid unpleasantness later. Plus, it's
more sanitary." 

 "Throw that away and c'mere." 

 Ben tossed the wipe and then crawled in beside Ray, letting Ray hold him
for a change. Ray kissed the top of the soft, dark hair as Ben pulled up
the covers. Completely relaxed, Ray sighed, "There's no comparison." 

 "Comparison?" 

 "Between a sex toy and a Mountie." 

 Ben's whiskers tickled Ray's chest as he laughed. "I should hope not,
Ray, though I don't mind substituting." 

 "You saying you want to be my permanent sex toy?" 

 "If you'll have me." 

 "Oh, yeah, again and again and again." 

 Ray ran a contented finger along Ben's jaw, thinking about how much
better life got when a guy just listened to the right voices. 

 *****************The End 

End Voices by grey: grey853@aol.com

Author and story notes above.