Author's Website: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Gallery/8741/jmgarden.htm

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, Alliance does, more's the pity.

Author's Notes: This new series is an AU, a different version of American and Canadian history. The words *"It could happen here"* spring to mind.

Story Notes: Pairing: Benny/Ray V.
Categories: Drama, AU.
Rating: PG.

I
PINK

Ray sighed as he hung his long coat on the rack beside his desk. He was fortunate that the pink triangle was only required to be worn on outerwear. He brushed the sleeve of his dark olive-green turtleneck shirt and wondered if anyone had made coffee yet. The radio was playing, tuned in to a popular Chicago station. The deejay was announcing the news.

First he warily inspected his desk. He wanted no little surprises as he'd been 'treated' to in the past. He gingerly pushed the papers around his desk, eyes registering every object, then very carefully opened each desk drawer, using extreme caution when he opened the lower right-hand drawer. Relieved at the lack of anything messy, he wandered over to the coffee machine.

His desk was crammed over into the corner, which would not be unique unto itself if he wasn't forced to try and work by the dim light of an old lamp, the light bulb from the ceiling long gone and his chair so old and worn that he had to be careful every time he sat down. Not that anyone had any great furniture here at the station, but his new blotter, decent chair, good lamp, and other accoutrements had been taken away at least five years ago, replaced by all the cast-offs that nobody wanted.

Kinda like me and Benny now.

He shivered as he poured coffee. His corner of the squadroom was unheated, courtesy of a broken radiator, and he was always careful to wear warm sweaters or long-sleeved shirts during the cold winter months.

He saw that Elaine was busy helping Jack Huey, her slim fingers flying over the keyboard of her computer. They looked good together, Ray thought with a little smile.

*"President Elias Cockburn is readying a new bill to send to Capitol Hill, along with a new set of additions to the existing..."*

"Hey, Vecchio."

"Hey, Guardino."

The two Italians shot the breeze for a moment or two as the radio news ended and music began to play, then Ray indicated Jack and Elaine with a toss of his head. "What's up over there?"

"Oh, just Jack buggin' Elaine."

Ray noticed the way that Louis shifted from foot to foot. "Really? Nothin' official?"

Caught out, Louis shrugged. "Just askin' for some facts on the Donaldson case."

Ray's eyes widened slightly. "The Donaldson case? Wow. You guys are lucky to catch that one." He yearned to have a case like that again. His fingers tightened around the handle of his coffee mug.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is."

"I used to."

An awkward silence fell between them, then Ray smiled. "Hey, Elaine will get you a hot lead. She always does."

"Yeah." Guardino sent Ray a grateful look, then said, "I gotta go see what's up."

"Sure."

Ray watched as his fellow cop walked over to join his partner and Elaine. He continued to watch for a few minutes, then picked up his folder and headed downstairs to Records.

II
LAVENDER

Despite the fact that everything seemed to be electronic these days, there were still plenty of records stored in the old-fashioned way. One of Ray's scut assignments was to pore over hundreds of records looking for some information that was needed by the high-profile detectives.

Which he had been, once upon a time.

Technically, he still was as regards to rank, but he was not allowed to work even low-profile cases as a detective anymore. He was lucky he still had a job with the Police Department, clerical as it was now. Probably the only reason that he did still have a place here was due to Welsh. The Lieutenaut despised the rules that prevented him from using the services of one of his best detectives, but there was no help for it. It was just another indignity to chalk up to the execrable Lavender Laws.

Ray sat on the dusty stool that served as his chair and contemplated the rows of shelves and filing cabinets. It was dim and musty down here. He was fortunate to have even the low-wattage lightbulb with which to work

He looked down at his folder and suddenly shoved it away. He yanked open a filing cabinet and began rummaging through the contents, then picked out the yellowing newspaper.

November 9, 1984. A new President of the United States. A Republican. Only, he wasn't exactly one of that Grand Old Party.

Ray breathed in the mustiness of the paper and the room. His mind whirled back to the heady days of 1984: the Supreme Court ruling that gay marriage was legal. The incredible feeling of finally getting respect for the love he held for Benny. Their joyous preparations for their wedding.

But the forces of their oppression had already been gaining strength. The Church of Divine Lightning had been gathering worshippers since the 1970s. They were loud and vocal and completely homophobic. They endorsed candidates for the National Liberation Party, a group whose leftist name fooled some people into discounting their right-wing agenda, which was kept partially hidden. Quietly, despite the political bombast, the National Liberationists began to make headway, winning local elections and moving up the political ladder. In 1981, the first case of HIV was reported.

By 1984, the first cases of AIDS were full-blown. HIV was gaining ground. Hysteria over the disease mounted. People uneasy over gay rights now grabbed the excuse of AIDS to begin rolling back those rights, the first major setback recorded in early 1987. A respected conservative columnist suggested that gay men who tested positive for HIV should have their buttocks tattooed with the information. Gay-bashings began to rise after virtually disappearing for the brief golden years. Gay characters began to disappear from movies, television and books, unless they were flaming queens or sadistic murderers who met with brutal retribution. As AIDS bled over into the straight population, the rollbacks grew more frequent. Homophobic rhetoric was once again the language of America, and in Canada, the homegrown version of the Church of Divine Lightning was putting pressure on that country's liberal gay laws.

Ray dug out the appropriate newspapers and microfilms. He immersed himself in the history of a people's disaster. No one would care. No one would even venture down here. If someone needed something fast, they'd call him on the ancient wall telephone. He fucked off the Department and obsessively reviewed his living nightmare.

Rights that he and Benny had enjoyed were slowly eroded. Briefly, Ray had considered escaping to Canada, but their neighbor to the north was beginning to emulate the United States. The Lavender Laws were enacted by an increasingly-conservative Congress in 1990. President Donald Meegan revealed that he was a member of the Church of Divine Lighting that year. In 1988, the National Liberation Party had made significant inroads into Congress. In the mid-term elections of 1990, they succeeded in capturing a substantial portion of seats and sixteen governorships. The rise of this third party had been meteoric, especially as AIDS ravaged more of the general population and the Cold War crumbled like the Berlin Wall, leaving the fanatics with no external enemy, so they turned inward. Gays were the perfect target: bringers of disease and immorality, predators of children and destroyers of the sacred heterosexual family.

Ray remembered the day when he arrived at work and found out his changed status here:

//Ray walked into the squadroom, a faint smile on his face as he remembered the lovemaking that he and Benny had shared this morning at West Racine. He fingered his wedding ring. At least he still had that. They were legally married and an act of Congress...or the Supreme Court...was the only thing that could dissolve that blessed state for him and Benny.

Ray slowed down as he approached his desk. Something was not right here. He suddenly realized that the room was very quiet. He turned to look at the faces watching his arrival.

*He noted Elaine's sorrowful look, and the uncomfortable expressions on Huey and Guardino's faces. He saw flashes of anger and discomfort on other officers' and detectives' faces, and a smattering of glee. Detective Britton Kruger was openly smiling.*

Ray looked at his desk. What the hell...?

*"Lieutenaut, what's going on with my desk?"*

*Welsh had appeared from his office, the grim resignation on his face twisting Ray's gut.*

*"Orders, Detective."*

*"Orders?" Ray shook the arm of the broken-down chair that had replaced his brand-new one. "Why is my chair goine? Where's my new blotter? Why do I have this crappy lamp instead of the one I've had for the last three years?"*

*Welsh sighed. "Vecchio, in my office."*

Inside the small office, Ray waited as Welsh drew the blinds. The older man indicated the chair in front of his desk. Ray took it, his eyes trained on his superior.

*"There's no easy way to say this, Ray." Welsh looked at him squarely. "You're reduced in rank."*

*"Wha...?" Ray gulped. "But, I haven't been in any trouble, Lou."*

*Ray's use of his middle name was acceptable to Welsh. Ray had always been his favorite. What he was about to say what incredibly difficult for him.*

*"It's the law, Vecchio."*

*"The law?" Ray frowned, then comprehension hit. His eyes widened. "You mean one of those fuckin' Lavender Laws?"*

Welsh nodded.

*Ray ran a hand over his face. He knew that the Laws had taken away many of his rights. He could no longer hold hands with Benny in public without fear of arrest, and never mind kissing. He and Benny were refused service in those restaurants that subscribed to the Lavender Code, and there were legal ramifications that stretched to home-buying or starting a business or just breathing, he thought sarcastically. He knew that certain professions were now barred to gays, and wondered why he wasn't being kicked off the force.*

*Welsh read his mind. "They haven't gotten around to putting 'police officer' down as one of the forbidden professions."*

*"I wonder if that's a good thing."*

*Sympathy shone in Welsh's dark eyes. "I'm sorry, Ray."*

*Ray nodded, suddenly feeling weary. He fingered his wedding ring again. Oh, god, they wouldn't take that away next, would they?*

*"So what does this mean besides giving me all the crappy furniture?"*

*"You won't be working high-profile cases anymore. Or any cases with the public. You'll be doing work here at the Precinct."*

*Ray stared. "So I'm a clerk now?"*

*"Pretty much." Welsh's hands folded. "I know this is hard on you. If you want to turn in your resignation, I'll understand."*

*"And do what, Lou?" Ray's voice was weary. "There aren't many professions open to me now."*

*Welsh nodded in acknowledgment of that fact. "How's Big Red doing?"*

*Ray sighed. "The Dragon Lady is on his case worse than ever. He's still Deputy Liaison Officer, but I don't know how long that will last. Or if the RCMP will keep him on."*

*Welsh unfolded his hands and leaned back. "He does know that he's still welcome here?"*

*"Thanks for that, Lou." Ray rubbed his eyes. "If it wasn't for Turnbull over there..."*

*Welsh nodded sympathetically. Ray suddenly rose. "May I go, sir?"*

*"Yes, Vecchio." Ray was close to the door when Welsh said, "Oh, Vecchio?"*

*"Yes, sir?"*

*"Watch your back."*

*Ray's blood ran cold but he nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned the knob and walked out into the squadroom, heading for his desk with as much dignity as he could muster. He sat in the creaky chair, the files he had been working on gone. In their place were scribbled notes by his colleagues asking for information. He picked up a note.*

*"Ray." He looked up to see Elaine's sympathetic chocolate-brown eyes. "I'm sorry."*

*"I know, Elaine. Thanks."*

*"Would you like a brush-up course on database searching?"*

*His first instinct was to say no, then he reconsidered. He needed this job. He couldn't get decent work elsewhere. He had a family and a Mountie to support.*

*"Sure, why not?"*

He followed Elaine to her desk, keeping his eyes trained on her and resolutely ignoring the others in the room.//

Ray rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. Had to be all this mustiness down here.

He shrugged and headed upstairs to get a refill on his coffee.

III
WHITE

Upstairs was the usual hustle and bustle of police life in the Precinct. Ray went over to the coffee machine, the mid-day news on the radio. After refilling his cup, he went to his desk and picked up the receiver, grateful that they still allowed him a a telephone.

*"The new bill restricts women's jobs and professions to those not injurious while pregnant. As President Cockburn says, 'With AIDS ravaging our country, we can't allow our women to put themselves in harm's way. For the good of the normal population, we must protect them.' In other news, Chicago's Rainbow Bookstore was burned last night..."*

"Hi, Ma? How's Benny doin'?" Ray frowned worriedly. "I wish we could get that damn fever down. Yeah. He's sleeping now? Good. Me? I'm fine. Workin' hard." Ray swallowed hard. "Yeah, Ma, I'm a good boy. I do my best. I'll be home for supper." He hung up the receiver and stared into space for a moment, then realized his coffee had cooled. He decided to give it a quick refill for warmth when a voice that made him cringe inwardly said, "Oh, lookee! The faggot is gracing us with his pink presence!"

He looked up, green eyes hard as he saw Detective First Grade Britton Kruger swagger over to his desk. He saw Elaine's look of disgust along with a few others in the room, but Kruger had his personal posse with him: Al Stouffer and Ken Briggs. Stouffer was a black man of considerable musculature, and Briggs was slender but sharp-eyed, quick and deadly in a fight. Kruger was a bodybuilder's dream: huge in the chest and shoulders, his legs thick as tree trunks. Blond hair was neatly combed as icy-blue eyes skewered Ray, a sadistic smile on his face.

Ray waited until Kruger was in front of his desk. The man's beefy fist tapped the chair that Benny usually sat in.

"So, where's the Moun*tee*?" He exaggerated the word so that everyone understand the emphasis. "He tired of sticking his ass up in the air for you to screw?"

Ray held his temper. Barely.

Kruger continued his swagger as he walked over to the coatrack by the wall. He tugged on the triangle badge. "What, you haven't gotten a duplicate one of these?" Ray's silence emboldened him. "Or didn't you know that the President is gonna get Congress to amend those Faggot Lavender Laws and make you wear this when you're indoors as well?"

"Liar," sneered Ray. His heart pounded. Oh, let Kruger be lying!

Kruger's smile was pure venom. "It's true. It was on the news this morning. Whatsamatter, nothing penetrate down there in the bowels of the Precinct? Hey, now isn't that perfect? 'Penetrate'. Which is what you do to Cherry Red. And the bowels of the Precinct is just the place for a sh..."

"Detective, do you have some work to do?"

The low but commanding voice of Harding Welsh filled the squadroom. Kruger turned and regarded Welsh for a moment, then said, "Sure, sir."

"Then go do it." Welsh looked at Stouffer and Briggs. "You, too."

Kruger's accomplices looked uneasy and quickly vacated the squadroom, Kruger right behind them. Welsh turned to Ray. "Sorry about that, Vecchio."

Ray felt lightheaded but tossed off a "No problem, Lieutenaut." He felt the walls closing in around him.

Welsh looked at him keenly. "Why don't you go home for lunch, Vecchio? Surprise Big Red?"

"Th...Thank you kindly, sir."

Ray nearly flew out of the room. He grabbed his coat and remembered to put it on when he got out on the sidewalk. He got into the Riv and nearly broke the speed laws on the way home, slowing down as he saw a black-and-white cruising several feet behind him. He surely didn't need to get arrested.

He reached home, his heart pounding.

Another amendment. Where will it stop?

He entered the house, surprising Rosa. He asked, "Benny awake, Ma?"

"Yes, he is...Raymondo?"

Ray took the steps two at a time. He burst into the bedroom, the sound of the deejay finishing the news morphing into a jazz tune. He looked at Benny, who was a whiter shade of pale. His skin was damp with sweat, his pajama top half-unbuttoned. Benny held out his arms, his disheveled hair dark against his white face. Ray melted into his arms and they held each other tightly, the pink triangle pressing against Benny's bare skin.