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

Disclaimer:

Author's Notes: Published by AngelWings Press and can be purchased at LionHeart at http://www.lionheartdistribution.com/duesouth.htm

Story Notes:

This story is a sequel to: BYGONES Part Three

BYGONES Part Four
by Grey

Ray paced back and forth in front of the row of plastic seats of the Edmonton airport while Fraser read a local newspaper. He had a splitting headache. He hated waiting, wasting time, being stuck. Taking a deep breath, he made another circuit near the windows, shaking his head, wanting like hell to be on one of the few planes taking off. He made it back to the seat next to Fraser and sagged down, the chair too hard and too small for a full grown man, even a skinny one. "How much longer?"

Fraser folded his paper and put it in the other chair. "The flight's been delayed. There's no way to know."

"Jesus. We've been here five hours already."

"We could get something to eat."

"Not hungry."

"You didn't eat breakfast, nor did you eat the lunch offered on the plane."

"Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything, Ray, just making an observation." Ray didn't answer, just rubbed his left thigh, the ache much worse than before. "You were limping earlier. Is your leg bothering you?"

"A little."

"You could take some Motrin."

"I could, but I won't, not unless it gets worse."

"Motrin isn't addictive. There's no need to punish yourself by being in more pain than you have to be."

Ray glanced sideways, frowning. "I'm not punishing myself. Why'd you say that?"

"If it's not punishing yourself, then why not use it?"

"Because it makes me drowsy."

"Worse than the Percocet did?"

"Yeah. Weird, I know, but that's the way it works." Ray continued to massage his leg with his right hand. "Don't worry. It's probably just cramping up because of those tight seats we were in. No place to stretch out."

"That's certainly a possibility." Fraser sat quietly, his hands folded together in his lap, his face drawn from the strain of flying. "Traveling is faster now, but it's not always easier."

"That yakketty-yak lady and her kid from hell that sat behind us didn't help. Kid needed a good kick in the head."

"Now, Ray, you know you'd never really kick a child."

"No, but that doesn't stop me from thinking about it when they act like brats." Ray snorted to himself. "Man, I can remember me at that age. God, I was a wild child, always running around, playing cops and robbers, shooting up the trailer. My mom used to bribe me with chocolate candy and cookies just to get me to sit still for a few minutes."

Fraser turned his head, appalled. "But, Ray, chocolate can lead to even more hyperactivity."

"We know that now, Fraser. We didn't know that then."

"Good Lord, your dear mother."

"Yeah, I know. She put up with a lot. I was a handful."

Fraser smiled, his voice lower, more sexy. "You're a handful now."

Ray met his eyes, smirking. "Only a handful?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Fraser shook his head, chastising himself as well as Ray. "No, we can't start. We're in a public place and we might be boarding soon."

"And you don't want to fly with a hard on?"

"Ray, language."

Ray motioned to the immediate area around them. "Look, Fraser, we're practically alone here, and I get the feeling that even if we weren't, nobody around here would care."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, nobody batted an eye at that lesbian couple a few seats up from us on the plane."

"Lesbian couple?"

"You know, the redhead and the blond, the ones holding hands?"

"They might have been sisters."

"On Mars maybe. Fraser, they were feeding each other and having a really good time doing it. If they were sisters, then I'm Yogi Bear."

Fraser nodded reluctantly, conceding the point. "Even if they were, as you say, lesbians, Ray, that doesn't mean people here are more accepting of public displays by homosexual couples than in Chicago. In general, I've noticed people are less likely to react in a negative way toward lesbians than gay men."

"That's true, but still, it got me to thinking."

"About what?"

"About how I want it to be like that for us someday." Ray turned in his seat slightly. "Wherever we end up, I want it to be okay to hold hands in public, to show affection, to kiss like regular couples do. I don't want to go through life worrying about getting bashed and hiding who we are, hiding how important we are to each other."

Fraser reached over and took his hand and sighed deeply. "I want the same thing, Ray. Hiding seems so dishonest, disrespectful to our love, but I'm still not convinced that revealing our relationship at this point is the right thing to do."

"Well, it's not as long as I'm Vecchio, but I'm telling you now, Fraser, when he comes back, I need that to change."

"As do I."

Ray squeezed Fraser's hand and grinned. "Okay, okay. We're on the same page here."

"It would seem so."

Ray noted a slight hesitation. "What?"

"It's just that we don't know how much longer that will be. It's like we're suspended between secrecy and being allowed to be open. It's very disconcerting."

"It's a pain in the ass. It's like we're on hold as long as the Feds keep Vecchio on a leash."

"I believe I just said that."

"Just wanted to make sure."

Before Fraser could reply, the announcement for boarding their plane to Yellowknife came over the intercom, first in English and then French.

"How do you say about fucking time in French, Frase?"

Fraser didn't bother to answer as they both got up and headed to the line.

"Sure is snowing up a storm."

Fraser looked over and smiled patiently. "Yes, it does that here."

"No shit." Ray stared out the window of the SUV and shook his head. "So, how long have you known Alan?"

"We met during my brief assignment at Moose Jaw."

"Moose Jaw?"

"Yes. It was his first posting."

Ray nodded, keeping his voice even. "So, you two ever get together?"

Fraser frowned. "Hardly. Alan's married with two children."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Perhaps not to some, but it does to me. Besides, I told you before with whom I've had relations."

"I know, I know. It's just, well, he seemed so, I don't know, friendly, almost too friendly."

"Are you jealous?"

"Me, no way. I'm just curious about what the deal is. The guy looks about ready to come when he sees you and he's falling all over himself to be accommodating. He gives us his cabin and already has it stocked and ready."

"He's a good friend."

"That's all?"

Fraser kept his eyes on the road, but the irritation strained his voice. "Aren't I allowed good friends?"

"Well, yeah, I didn't mean it like that. I just, hell, I don't know what I meant. Forget it. I'm just tired. How much longer?"

"Just a bit." Fraser hesitated before he added, "Alan thinks he's obligated to me for doing my job."

"Come again?"

"There was a rather serious incident in Moose Jaw during a robbery. Alan was shot and taken hostage. I defused the situation and got him out alive. After that, despite my assurances that there was no need, he became very obsessive about doing things to repay me."

"That makes sense."

"Does it?"

"Well, sure. You save a guy's life, he kind of falls for you, either as a friend or a partner. It works that way sometimes."

Focusing on the road, Fraser nodded. "It would appear so. However, I must confess I feel rather guilty using that feeling to my advantage."

"You mean like accepting the use of the cabin?"

"Precisely, yes."

"Don't. Speaking from experience, it feels good to give things to people you care about. Take my word on this, Fraser, the guy likes you. A lot."

"You're exaggerating, Ray. We haven't seen one another for several years. He was just glad to see me."

"Yeah, I got that. Wife and kids or no wife and kids, if I weren't along, I'm telling you, Alan would be more than happy to show you just how grateful he is."

"Jealousy doesn't become you."

"I'm not jealous, just telling you the truth."

"As you see it."

"Well, yeah, since that's the only truth most of us have."

"Quite."

They stayed quiet for a few more moments, until Fraser turned the car onto a side road.

"We here?"

"Almost. It's up ahead."

"How can you even see anything? Between the dark and this blizzard, I can't even make out the road."

"My night vision has always been above average."

"I'll say."

Another minute and they stopped in front of a small cabin. Fraser picked up a flashlight and handed it to Ray. "Here. This should help until I get the generator turned on and the fire started. The generator's already been primed and the fire laid out, so it shouldn't take long."

"I'll get the bags in."

"We'll both get them in. I'll start the fire first, then the generator. You need to get inside and get warm. You're overtired."

"What about you?"

"I'm tired, too, but this won't take long. Come on. Let's get inside."

Even with the heavy coat, hat, and gloves, the icy wind bit into his skin, made him shiver. Carrying the bag, Ray worked his way up to the cabin, the snow up over his boots, his feet freezing. His leg throbbed and as he stepped up on the porch, he missed and went down hard. Pain shot up his left arm and through his leg. "Shit."

"Ray, are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right. I'm too fucking cold to move." He reached out his right hand. "Help me up."

A strong arm pulled him to his feet as Fraser brushed off the snow. Then he put his other arm around him to balance him as they made it inside. Ray limped over to the sofa in front of the fireplace, allowing Fraser to help guide him. Sagging down, he closed his eyes, the pain in his arm almost too much, like he'd broken it all over again. Swallowing hard, sick to his stomach, he fought back the sting of tears.

A blanket settled over him. "I'll start the fire."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Ray. You're tired and you fell."

"I also hurt my arm again."

"Let me get the fire started and I'll look at it."

"Sure."

It only took a matter of minutes before Fraser had the blaze going, the heat welcome against the damp cold of the cabin interior. Settling beside him, Fraser picked up his arm as Ray groaned and complained. "Ow. Ow. Ow."

"The cast looks intact."

"Ow, Fraser. It hurts."

"You must have jarred it."

"No shit."

"Do you think we should drive over to the hospital and have it checked?"

Ray pulled his arm back, holding it protectively against his chest. "No, I'm just being a wimp."

"You're not a wimp to admit to pain."

Arm still aching, Ray shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Just go start the generator so we can settle in. If I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to do more than fall on my ass."

Fraser pulled off Ray's cap and fussed with his hair, still wearing his gloves, his voice soft. "You'll feel better in the morning."

"Sure, I know. I'm just a lousy traveler. I don't mean to take it out on you."

"I don't mind."

"You should."

"Perhaps I would if I thought you were being petulant on purpose. As it is, I realize we've just spent fifteen hours traveling. I must confess to feeling a bit on edge myself."

Ray glanced over at the double bed at the corner of the small room. "Then go get the generator jacked up and let's hit the sack, the sooner the better. I'm not fit to be around when I get this whipped."

Fraser kissed his cheek and stood up. "It shouldn't take long. There are extra blankets in the chest at the end of the bed."

"Sure. Now go."

As soon as Fraser left, Ray stood up and limped to the bed. He took off his gloves and coat carefully, his body complaining even more with every move. He'd have some serious bruises by morning. He hung up his things on the rack by the bed and then slipped off his shirt. He sat down and took off his boots, set them to the side, and then stood up to take off his jeans. Wearing only his thermals and socks, he pulled back the several layers of wool blankets and crawled in. He took the side by the wall and then waited for Fraser to return.

From outside, he heard the sputter and hum as the generator started. At least they'd have lights in the morning. Closing his eyes, he listened to the crack of snow, the wind whipping through the trees, all the sounds he couldn't hear at home. Whoever thought nature was quiet had never been to the wilds of Canada.

Fraser's boots stomped on the porch before he opened the door and came inside. He latched the door shut and stepped closer to the bed, the glow of the firelight making him even more handsome than before.

Ray talked quietly around the lump in his throat. "Hey."

Fraser smiled, his whole face warm and radiant with joy. "Hey. Welcome to Canada, Ray."

"Thank you kindly. You didn't have to go to all the trouble to make it a winter wonderland, you know."

"No trouble at all." Ray waited impatiently as Fraser removed his hat, gloves, and then jacket. "Would you like something to drink, Ray? Alan said the pump's already been primed."

"No, thanks. I just want you to hurry up and get in bed."

"Ah, well, that can be arranged." Lickety split and Fraser stripped down to his red long johns. He lifted the blankets to slide in, his body like a furnace against Ray. He snuggled in closer, wrapping his arms around Ray's body.

"Feels good."

"Yes, it does." Fraser lifted his head. "Did you take your medicine?"

"Yeah, back in town while you and Alan were catching up on old times."

Fraser frowned and shook his head. "Alan's a dear friend, but there's really no need to be jealous, Ray. I hope you know that by now."

"I do."

"You don't sound convincing."

Ray turned on his side, ignoring the complaints from his arm and leg. He nuzzled in against Fraser's neck, his voice a whisper. "I know he's not your type."

"My type?"

"Yeah, you know, a Yank with experimental hair type?"

"Oh, that type. Indeed, he's not, not even close." Fraser kissed him on his forehead and then pulled the covers up. "We should probably eat before we go to sleep."

"I'm not moving and if you try to get up, I'll crack you in the head with my cast."

"Enough said. I'll stay put."

"Smart Mountie."

Ray groaned with discomfort and rolled over in the empty bed. "Fraser?"

"Here, Ray."

Opening his eyes, Ray blinked several times to clear his vision. Without his glasses and in the low light it was hard to see, but he made out Fraser kneeling by the fire. "What time is it?"

"It's still early, five o'clock. I needed to work the fire."

His head dropped back to the pillow as he pulled the covers up around his neck. Not only did the cold make his bones ache, the fall from the night before made his arm and leg bitch even more than usual. A few moments later, Fraser opened the chest at the end of the bed and pulled out a huge blanket. "My goodness, look at this."

"What?"

"It's a down comforter."

"Toss it over and get back in bed. I'm freezing my ass off here."

Fraser put the comforter over Ray and the crawled in beside him. "I wasn't expecting that."

"What?"

"The comforter."

Ray turned his head, looking at Fraser's plaintive expression. "Why's that a big deal?"

"Usually Alan keeps the cabin stocked with only the standard issue wool blankets. The comforter is a personal extravagance."

Ray tensed. "How do you know that?"

"I stayed in the cabin once before when I visited."

"Did you tell Alan you were bringing someone with you when you called?"

Frowning, Fraser turned on his side and lifted his head, resting it on an upraised hand. "Why do you ask that?"

"Did you?"

"Actually, no. When I first called, I just told him I needed to come up for a few weeks and he offered me a place to stay."

"Mystery solved."

"What are you talking about?"

"Fraser, I know you don't want to see it, and it really doesn't matter to me since I know you'd never do anything about it, but Alan didn't expect you to be using this bed without him."

His expression darker, Fraser let his head fall back against the pillow. "I'm a fool."

"You're not a fool, Fraser."

"I must be. I never even suspected."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Not at all."

"Your gaydar must have a short in it."

"So it would seem."

Ray rolled over and drew Fraser closer to him, kissing his neck, taking a deep breath. His lover smelled of wood smoke and freshly fallen snow. His cock woke up and begged for an early start. "It's okay. He'll get over it. He knew the score as soon as he saw me and he handled it fine."

"But I'm usually better about seeing the signs."

Thinking about his own slow revelation about Fraser, Ray whispered, "Well, we all miss sometimes."

Fraser moaned and closed his eyes as Ray licked his jaw. "Do that again."

"No problem." Ray ran his tongue up the side of Fraser's face, pleased with his lover's involuntary shudder. He shifted, wanting to kiss him, but grunted in pain as his arm and leg refused to move without a fight.

"What's wrong?"

"Just a little sore."

"From the fall?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Fraser nodded and then sat up, moving out of the bed just long enough to strip off his red long johns and then get back in. "Let me do the work." He pulled Ray up and forward enough to take off the top of his thermals before removing the bottoms. Pushing Ray onto his back, he straddled his middle. The covers dropped off, the cold air of the cabin a huge contrast from all the body heat in the bed.

Falling forward, Fraser captured his mouth, kissing him deeply. His thick tongue explored and probed, stealing the air. Ray didn't care, his body turned on, running wild with the thought of all the things Fraser might want to work at.

Pulling back, Fraser smiled wickedly and then turned around, his back to Ray. He moved the blankets out of the way and then kneeled on all fours, his ass and cock in Ray's face, his head aimed at Ray's crotch. Ever so slowly, using his forearms to balance himself, he lowered his body and head so that he could tongue the tip of Ray's cock. All the while his own dick stood out, needy and wanting attention. Ray moaned with pleasure when Fraser took him in that mouth, his tongue making the pressure work, sending delicious shivers all through Ray's balls, up his spine.

Despite the wonderful distraction of his own cock being sucked, Ray reached out and strained his neck to get a taste of Fraser. The bitter tang washed over his tongue as he held it steady and let it slide between his lips. Fraser thrust carefully into his mouth, all the while keeping Ray's cock prisoner, attacking with a deadly rhythm. It drove him crazy to be fucked in the mouth and to be tormented by Fraser's uncanny ability to know just when he might come and then to change his movements just enough so he wouldn't. Pissed at being forced to wait, Ray cranked up his own efforts, making sure to lick and lap Fraser like he'd never been licked and lapped before. A whimper along with a more urgent attempt on Fraser's end rewarded Ray for his efforts. Not the least bit fancy, but very effective, Ray spit on his index finger and then slipped it into Fraser's hole, making sure he didn't get a chance to pull away.

Fraser gasped, coming in his mouth, the spill warm and spiky at the back of Ray's throat. After a few moments, Fraser slipped out of Ray's mouth and doubled his pace. Air thinned to nothing as Ray's head fell back, his mind reeling with pleasure. Wet heat streamed up his middle, his cock and balls exploding all at once. Convulsing, Ray screamed Fraser's name as his lover used his tongue and lips to suck him completely dry. His right hand grabbed Fraser's thigh, his hips arched upward. Tears rolled down the side of his face as he closed his eyes, reveling in the release, in the completion, in being truly intimate with Fraser.

Turning, Fraser shifted over, lying beside him again and pulling up the blankets and comforter. He kissed him, smiling and ahhing into his mouth. "You taste delightful, Ray."

"It's Canadian. Like it?"

"Almost as much as the American brand." He kissed him again and then snuggled in closer.

"And you were afraid I'd get bored."

Fraser laughed quietly, his quick breaths a tickle and tease to Ray's neck. "It appears I might have been mistaken."

"Can I have that in writing?"

"What?"

"That you were wrong. I mean, it's an historic event. I want a permanent record."

"Well, it's still early. We've got two weeks to prove me right."

Ray thought of all the great ways he could use Fraser's mouth and ass to prove him wrong. "That a challenge?"

"Might be."

"A double dog dare?"

"A what?"

"You know, a bet you can't back away from, one that's a matter of saving face?"

Fraser wrapped his arms around Ray and pulled him closer, his hands cupping Ray's ass as they lay cock-to-cock. "Actually, I'm going to do my best to make sure I am wrong."

"Stacking the deck in my favor, huh?"

"If need be."

Ray sighed happily as Fraser kissed the side of his neck, sucking enough to leave a mark. "Isn't that cheating?"

"Mounties never cheat, Ray."

"No?"

"No. We merely make sure the right side perseveres."

"You cheat." Ray closed his eyes, all dreamy as Fraser kissed all over his face and then back to his neck again. He drowned in the sensation, Fraser's tongue like magic, making his whole body melt in his lover's strong arms.

"I don't want you to be bored, Ray, never bored, not with me."

"Never going to happen."

Fraser pulled back, his blue eyes darker, even more serious. "I love you so much."

"Same here."

Fraser searched his face, finally satisfied. Fraser rested his forehead against Ray's chest, his voice low and still raw. "It scares me sometimes."

"What?"

"This."

"This? What this?"

"This thing between us. I've never felt like this."

"Join the club. I've been scared shitless ever since this thing started." As Fraser tried to pull away, Ray held on tight, keeping him close. "But the joy outweighs all of that fear, Fraser. It's a kickass kind of wonder that makes it all worthwhile."

Fraser relaxed and nodded against his chest. He didn't speak again, but lay there, his breathing slowing, his eyes shut. Ray fingered his dark, wavy hair and realized once again just how damn lucky he was. Gruesome history dimmed when he held his future in his arms.

Warm and toasty, the smell of fresh coffee pulled Ray up from sleep. He turned over in the empty bed and opened his eyes slowly. Fully dressed, Fraser stood at a stove on the other side of the room fixing breakfast. The man never gave up on trying to feed him. "Morning, Frase."

"Good morning, Ray."

"Feels good in here."

"Yes, well, the wood burning stove in addition to the fireplace makes it much warmer than usual. I thought you might appreciate it."

"You don't usually keep it this cozy without me?"

"Not usually, no."

"I'm flattered." Ray lay still for a moment, watching the precise movements as Fraser shifted something around in the skillet. "What that?"

"Pan-fried biscuits and some caribou steaks. They should be done shortly."

"Caribou steaks? For breakfast?"

"They're quite tasty and full of protein." Fraser turned, his voice stern. "Except for some peanuts, you didn't eat yesterday, Ray. You will eat this morning."

Ray didn't want to fight, though the thought of eating a steak made out of some animal he'd only heard of in Fraser's Inuit stories sounded a bit over the top. Still, he was on Fraser's turf now, so he'd try it. "Sure, okay. Biscuits sound good. Got any jelly?"

"No, but there's orange marmalade. I'm also heating some water if you'd like to wash off or shave."

"Heating water?"

"Yes. We have the pump and the drain, but I'm afraid there's no running hot water."

"Speaking of facilities, where's the can?"

Fraser turned, his expression a weird mixture of amusement and concern. "The compost toilet is outside by the woodshed to the right of the cabin or you can use the bucket under the bed."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Shit."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I probably should've mentioned it."

Ray sighed and sat up, swinging his naked legs over the side of the bed. He hurriedly pulled on his thermals and then his jeans, hissing as he moved too quickly. His leg didn't want to move any faster and the fingers on his broken hand throbbed from being swollen again.

Fraser stepped closer. "Ray, just use the bucket."

Ray buttoned up his flannel shirt as fast as he could one-handed. "I'm not using the bucket, Fraser. Hand me my coat and hat."

While he put on his boots, Fraser handed him his outerwear. "You don't have to be so stubborn."

"Fraser, if it's the middle of the night, sure, I'll wiz in the bucket, but right now, I'm not doing that. Plus, there are other considerations here, and I'm not starting my vacation stinking up the place. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now, have that coffee ready and I'll be right back."

Frazer nodded, but held out one more item before he went back to the stove. Ray snatched the toilet paper, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into. Damn Mountie brought him out in the middle of nowhere so he could freeze his dick off. "You know if I'm not back in ten minutes, you'd better come get me. I might freeze to the damn lid."

Sheepishly, Frazer apologized. "I'm afraid there's no lid, per se, Ray, just an opening really."

Despite the grim reality of such a statement, Ray shook his head and laughed out loud. "I'm an idiot."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I should've thought about all this. Instead, I just thought about all the great stuff in those brochures with the pretty pictures you've got at the Consulate. You guys ought to be sued for false advertising. Not one mentions having to shit in the woods with the damn bears."

"There shouldn't be any bears about, Ray. Most hibernate at this time of year."

"Miss the point much? Never mind. I gotta go. Keep your fingers crossed that I don't fall in."

"I have every faith in your abilities to survive such an adventure, Ray."

"Yeah, yeah." Ray stomped out of the cabin, unprepared for the bitterness of the wind or the fact that there was still so little light. Not as dark as the night before, but nearly, he looked to the right and spotted his target at the end of a shoveled trail. He didn't know when his partner had time to do it, but he sure appreciated the effort. "Thank you, Fraser."

Moving as quickly as he could, watching his footing, he made it to the toilet and opened the door. One good thing about the frigid temperatures was it kept the smell down. Awkwardly, he pulled down his jeans and thermals, pissing first before sitting down, biting his lower lip so he wouldn't scream when his balls got blasted. Hurriedly, he finished his business and wiped as best he could. Then he covered himself up again, thinking that he would never again complain about cleaning the bathroom at home, never again take indoor plumbing for granted. Hell, this explained a lot about Fraser's long stays in his bathroom. The guy was just making up for lost time.

Grabbing up the toilet paper, he headed back in, more than ready to have some hot coffee. Fraser handed him a mug full as soon as he walked in as he took the toilet paper and put it back on the shelf. "I trust everything went well."

"Everything went fine, but if my dick falls off from frostbite, I'll let you know. Jesus, it's cold out."

"Have a seat."

Fraser directed him to the small table by the stove. Ray took off his coat and hat. "I need to wash up some first."

"Excellent idea." Fraser went to the sink and poured some of the heated water into a big metal bowl before adding cooler water from the pump. He laid out soap, cloth, and a towel. "You can shave after breakfast."

"Sure, that's fine."

Ray quickly washed his hands and then his face. He lifted his shirt and cleaned his armpits and then undid his jeans to do a quick soap and rinse of his crotch and backside. Feeling better, he toweled off, buttoned up, and then got rid of the dirty water. He turned to find Fraser watching his every move. Smiling, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink. "Like the show?"

"Very much so."

"Maybe next time, I'll let you do the honors."

"I'd be more than happy to oblige."

"You're a freak."

"A hungry freak actually. Come sit down and eat. The steak is well done, the way you like your meat cooked."

"And yours is no doubt still bleeding."

"Not at all. With wild game, the food must be cooked thoroughly."

"Wild game, huh?"

Noting his hesitation, Fraser cut some of his steak and ate it. "It's very good, Ray. Please try some. Just pretend it's beef."

Settling in the seat opposite Fraser, Ray picked up his fork. "Does it taste like beef?"

"Not really."

"What's it taste like?"

"Caribou."

As Fraser proceeded to devour his own food, Ray decided to give it a shot. The worst it could do is end up in the bucket. Tender enough to be cut with a fork, he took a bite. The strong flavor reminded him of venison he'd had once, only better, easier to swallow and keep down. "Not bad."

"I'm glad you like it."

"You season this with anything?"

"Salt and pepper and a bit of thyme and rosemary."

Ray nodded, remembering the times he'd used those in his own cooking. "Good job." He picked up a pan biscuit, added some butter, and then some marmalade. Eating the whole thing without talking, he wiped his mouth and drank a whole mug of heavily sugared coffee. "Guess I was more hungry than I thought."

Fraser refilled his drink and then heated his tea with hot water. "Yesterday was a long day. You didn't eat and you didn't drink nearly enough."

"Yeah, well, I can't when I'm worked up. You know that."

"Yes, I know. It's just difficult when I know you need to take better care of yourself."

Ray ate another bite of caribou. "You keep cooking like this and I'll put on the weight in no time. Wonder if you can get this caribou stuff on a pizza."

To Ray's surprise, Fraser nodded and smiled. "Actually, there is a restaurant in town that specializes in moose and caribou dishes. I'm sure we can try them during our visit."

"Moose?"

"It's a tougher, stronger meat than caribou, but when cooked properly, it too can be quite tasty."

"Oh, yeah, I'll bet. Of course, if I were starving, living up here for long, there's no telling what I might eat." Ray turned his eyes on Fraser, his lips thinned into a mischievous grin. "Is it cannibalism if you only eat parts of your partner?"

"Actually, I believe it's got a different name entirely."

"Remind me of that later on today. We might try that out."

Fraser flushed and he shook his head. "You're insatiable."

"Is that like never getting enough, because if it is, then I'm your guy these days." Ray's voice softened. "Seriously, Fraser, I think about you all the time, doing these things to me, me doing things to you. I never dreamed I'd be thinking the stuff I'm thinking."

"And this pleases you?"

"Pleases the hell out me." Ray looked down at his plate, avoiding Fraser's intent gaze. "It's just I didn't think I'd ever be well enough to want this kind of thing, to be with you like this. I thought I was so fucked up, I'd never be happy again, and never with a man, not with someone I could really trust and care about."

Fraser's touch to his hand surprised him, but not enough for him to pull away. "I feel much the same way, Ray. After all my bad choices, I never thought I'd take the chance again. I didn't even know if I could." The words choked and Ray lifted his head, seeing the tear run down the side of Fraser's face. "I cut myself off, numbed myself with my dedication to duty so I wouldn't run the chance of falling in love again. Then you came along and I started feeling again, feeling things I thought were dead inside myself. You resurrected not only my faith and spirit, but my heart."

"God, you say the prettiest things."

Fraser wrapped his hand in both his own. "I mean it, Ray. You saved me from a dreary and empty existence. I didn't even realize how barren my life was until you transformed it."

"How is that possible, Fraser? You did the same thing for me. I thought I was a goner, lost and ready for the great dumpster in the sky, you know? I was so fucked up and fucked over, I couldn't see anything worth living for. You changed all that and even after what happened, you stuck with me. You made me hang in there when it would've been a hell of a lot easier not to."

Lifting Ray's hand to his lips, Fraser kissed it. "I love you, Ray."

Whispering, his throat dry, Ray leaned in closer. "You want to come back to bed and show me?"

Fraser's eyes sparkled as he answered by standing up and moving them back to the bed, a place where they both relied on the other for salvation.

Sunday passed in a blur, a mixture of love-making and sleeping, cuddling, and just luxuriating in being together. Ray spooned in behind Fraser, his arms wrapped around him, reluctant to let go, sad to see Monday morning arrive.

"Ray, I need to work the fire and get more wood."

"Just a few more minutes."

"Ray."

"I know, I know. Too clingy." He rested his forehead against the back of Fraser's neck, still unable to release him.

Fraser shifted in the bed, the mattress dipping as he turned to face Ray. He took his face between both hands and then kissed him deeply before pulling back. "I just need to add some wood. I'll get more later. Give me a minute."

"Not going anywhere."

Fraser kissed him one more time and then rolled over to the outside of the bed. He swung his legs over the side and quickly reached for his long johns and boots. Ray smiled as he watched his lover leave his boots unlaced as he hurried to get over to take care of the fire, tossing on the last log, sparks flying up. Fraser shifted the embers, making sure to have a healthy flame before returning to bed. He slipped off his boots, but kept his long johns on as he slid under the covers.

Fraser pulled him close as he spoke quietly. "I need to get dressed and get more wood in."

"I know." Ray closed his eyes, unable to give up too soon. "Just let me wallow some more."

Chuckling, Fraser kissed the side of his neck. "I think we've wallowed a whole day away."

"Is that what you call it in Canada, wallowing?"

"We have other names, but wallowing will do nicely. I could wallow with you forever."

"Same here." Sighing, Ray pulled back enough to see Fraser's face, but not far enough to lose contact. "You know I could get used to living up here, well, except for the outhouse thing. If we move North, we've got to work on the plumbing situation, because I've got to tell you, it sucks to have an icicle for a dick."

"One gets used to it."

"Hell, you can get used to anything, but that doesn't mean you like it." Running his index over Fraser's whiskered chin, he teased, "Tell me you don't love my bathroom at home."

Fraser's expression turned dreamy. "I must admit it's an exceptional bathroom."

"With a shower and a tub, hot water, and a flushing toilet, it's a great place. Wish we could just blink and have it right here." Suddenly more serious, Ray added, "But to tell the truth, that's the only thing I miss about Chicago, well, except for Turtle and Dief."

"I'm sure Frannie's taking good care of both."

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's just I wish we could've at least brought Dief. He'd love running through the snow. I'd like to see him go wild for a little bit, be a real wolf for a change."

"Oh, he's much the same here as in Chicago, Ray. Diefenbaker is one of those rare creatures who seems to be able to adapt quickly regardless of his environment."

"Yeah, but here he's going for the rabbit instead of the doughnut, king of the woods stuff."

"Yes, he does rather enjoy the chase once he gets the scent."

"And what about you, Fraser? What do you enjoy about being back here?"

Fraser hugged him tighter, his voice deep and husky. "Having you all to myself for one. I must confess, being here fulfills certain fantasies I've had for a very long time."

Ray smiled, his face pressed against Fraser's chest, the strong heart beating against his ear. "You saying you've thought about dragging me off to the snowy wilderness to have your way with me before?"

"More than once, yes."

"I like that idea. Tell me something, Frase, what other fantasies do you have?" Fraser's heart raced and Ray lifted his head, frowning at his lover's serious face. "What?"

"It's nothing, Ray. I don't want to spoil this."

It hit him hard as Ray realized what Fraser wanted. "You want to fuck me."

"Make love to you, yes, but I understand why that won't happen, Ray. You've been very honest about your feelings. I'm very happy with the way things are."

"But you'd be happier if you could do me like I do you, right?"

"I would never ask you do something that you're uncomfortable doing, Ray. Besides, it's too soon. You don't even like me to touch you there. I respect and understand that."

Pulling away, sitting up, Ray rubbed his face several times, no longer warm and fuzzy. "I can't help it. I want to, but I can't. I'm sorry."

Fraser touched his shoulder and squeezed gently. "It's perfectly fine, Ray. It doesn't matter."

"But it does. It's something you want. And it's only fair, since I do you all the time. I mean, you love it, right, me doing you like that?"

"Absolutely."

"And it doesn't hurt?"

"Only at first, but then it's perfect." Fraser's frown deepened. "I didn't mean to upset you. I love making love with you, Ray, and it doesn't matter to me how we do it."

"But it should."

"I don't understand."

"It's like you're being cheated."

"That's just silly, Ray. I've never felt more loved in my life, never."

Ray met Fraser's eyes. "Never?"

"Never."

Relaxing just a bit at the reassurance, Ray swallowed hard, the panic slowly subsiding. "I'm sorry."

Fraser wrapped his arms around Ray's chest and drew him into an embrace again before pulling up the covers. "There's no need to be sorry."

"Feels like it. I wish I could do more, but I can't. I just can't."

"I know."

They remained quiet for several long moments before Ray finally spoke. "So, what do you want to do today?"

"Well, I thought we might take a tour of the town. There are several people I'd like you to meet."

"Guess I need to shave then."

"If you'd like, I could shave you."

Ray relaxed some more, sighing. "Yeah, yeah, that should be okay. As long as I keep my eyes closed, I can do that."

Fraser kissed his forehead. "You know, Ray, if you wanted to move to a place in town, we could. There are several very nice places where we could stay and they all have inside plumbing."

"But you'd hate that and it's expensive."

"That doesn't matter if it's what you want."

"It's not, not really. Sure, I wouldn't mind a shower and hot water, not to mention a toilet that doesn't freeze my balls off, but, hey, I'm not giving up the rest of it."

"Rest of it?"

"Being with you, out here all alone, just the two of us doing what we want, when we want. What's a little frostbite and sacrifice to hygiene compared to all that?"

"I see your point." Fraser dipped his head and sniffed deeply. "Besides, I love the way you smell, Ray, bathed or not."

"Major freak on the loose here."

Fraser didn't bother to tease back, but simply licked along Ray's collarbone and then slid down to greedily suckle his nipples. Ray gasped and surrendered, drowning in every touch of his lover's mouth.

"Constable Benton Fraser, get your ass over here."

Ray took off his heavy coat and hat, putting them on the hooks by the door. He nervously tried to tame his wild spikes as a large, dark-haired woman proceeded to accost his partner. She grabbed Fraser by both arms and pulled him into a hell of a bear hug. Ray smiled when he realized Fraser returned the embrace, but had flushed bright red from the unexpected attention.

Once she released him and stepped back, Fraser removed his Stetson and bowed. "It's good to see you, too, Mimi."

"McClain said you were back in town. Damn, it's good to see you. It's been way too long. Jeremy's almost twelve." Mimi's brown eyes spotted Ray. "And this must be the good-looking Yank I heard about." She held out a hand to a suddenly self-conscious Ray. "The name's Mimi LeBeau. Might be old and grey before Benton here introduces us."

"Ray Vecchio. Pleased to meet you."

"Vecchio, huh? With that coloring, your folks must be from the north part of Italy."

Fraser interrupted and changed the subject. "Ray's my partner from Chicago. We're here on vacation."

"In the middle of winter?" She eyed Ray's cast and recently scarred throat before holding up her hand. "Never mind, not my business. You two take a booth and I'll bring over a menu. You want tea, Benton?"

"Tea would be lovely, and Ray likes coffee." He paused and added, "And if you've got some Smarties at the counter, bring those over as well. He likes chocolate in his drink."

She thumbed the side of her nose. "Sweet tooth. Gotcha. Take a seat. I'll bring it right out."

They walked to the open booth at the back of the cafe next to the window. "Local character?"

"One of many." He motioned for Ray to sit as he slid into the booth. It took Ray a little longer, wincing as he had to use one hand to move his stiff leg. "Is it still bothering you?"

"Yeah."

"I'll change the bandage and check it again as soon as we get back to the cabin."

"It's fine, Fraser. Don't worry about it. It's just bruised up some from the fall. It'll be fine."

Fraser didn't look the least big convinced as he nodded toward Ray's bloated fingers at the edge of his cast. "Your fingers are discolored and swollen, too. Is your arm still hurting?"

"Some."

"Perhaps while we're in town, we'll swing by the hospital and have a doctor check it out. You might have done some damage with the fall Saturday night."

Ray wiggled his fingers, then touched each one with his thumb, causing just a steady ache in his wrist and his lower arm. "I just need to move them more. Do the finger exercises the doc wanted me to do."

"The exercises don't seem to be helping."

Ray shrugged. "If it's not better in a few days, maybe, but not now."

Mimi brought a tray with the water, tea, coffee, and a box of Smarties. "Here you go." She gave them the menus and smiled at Ray. "If there's anything on there that you don't know about, ask your partner here. He's had just about every dish we serve at one time or another."

"How's that? He a regular?"

"You think I greet all the Mounties with a hug like that?" Before he could answer, she smiled good-naturedly. "Yeah, Benton here came in on a regular basis that last time he stayed in town." She turned her attention back to Fraser. "Where's Diefenbaker?"

"He's staying with a friend."

"That's a shame. I would've liked to give him a big soup bone. I know how he loves those."

"I'll be sure to let him know you asked after him."

Smiling, she tapped the menus. "Take your time. Everything's good." Then she winked at Fraser. "And remember your money's no good here, Benton, for you or your friend."

"Mimi, please. That's very generous, but not necessary."

Her voice choked slightly, her face suddenly more red. "No please about it. You know I won't take your money, not after what you did."

Graciously, Fraser accepted. "Understood. Thank you."

As soon as she left, Ray leaned in, his voice low. "What did you do?"

"It's a long story."

Ray snorted as he lifted up the menu. "I live for long stories. Bet she's Inuit, too."

"Actually, she is on her mother's side."

"Figures."

"I'll tell you about it later, Ray, but not here."

The serious tone caught Ray's attention. Something bad must have happened and Fraser didn't want to discuss it in public. "Sure, no problem. So, what's good here?"

"As Mimi said, it's all quite good, but I'd say based on your preferences and your sensitive stomach, you should stick to the Caribou stew or Moose burgers with cheese. The burger comes with home-fried potatoes and some onion soup."

They both sounded pretty exotic for Ray's tastes. "What are you having?"

"I think I'm going to have a small rack of caribou with mint sauce and some buttered turnips. I think a lichen salad with pine nuts will go nicely with that."

"What, no blubber?"

"I think that's for dessert."

"You really like eating that stuff?"

"Do you really like eating pineapple pizza?"

Ray grinned and turned his attention back to the menu. "I get your point. To each his own. Besides, I figure you grew up eating this stuff. Guess I'm lucky you're not craving some roasted bear or musk ox or something."

"Actually bear can be quite tasty. Properly preserved, one bear can last a family of four several months. As to the musk ox, well, it tastes tainted no matter how many spices one uses. No one who wasn't starving would even try it."

"But you did?"

"I've tried just about everything at one time or another."

Ray glanced up from his menu and studied Fraser's calm face as his partner stared out the window. "We talking about food or something else?"

Fraser turned his head and met his eyes without wavering. "Both."

"Ah."

Mimi arrived at the side of the table, pad in hand. "I see he's got you doing it, too."

Ray shook his head in confusion, his mind still working out all the meanings to Fraser's comment. "Got me doing what?"

"The ah thing. Don't think we all do that up here in Canada. That's pretty much a Benton thing."

"Now it's a Ray thing. Bugs the hell out of him."

"Turning the tables, eh? That should get his goat." She smiled with her tease and then put her pencil to the pad. "So, you two decided?"

Fraser gave her his order and then Ray gave it a shot. "Well, I have to tell you, I'm new to this whole eat the wild game thing, Mimi, so bear with me. I've got a trick stomach. You trick it and it tricks me, got it?"

"So you want something mild and not too spicy, right?"

"Right. Now, Fraser here, he recommends the Moose burger or the Caribou stew. What do you think?"

"Those are both good, but still a bit spicy. Why don't I have them fix some baked chicken with either egg noodles or a baked potato and a side salad, made with greens instead of lichens."

"You got regular food here, too?"

"Sure. We don't get much call for it, but some of the local ex-Yanks seem to appreciate it."

"What local ex-Yanks?"

"Chris Frame and Eddie Banks to name two. You'd be surprised at the number of folks who show up here and stay. So, you want the chicken?"

"Sure, sounds good. I'll take it with the potato and give me ranch for the dressing if you've got it."

"Coming up."

Ray handed her the menu, suddenly hungry. He ignored his growling stomach and turned his attention back to Fraser. Dropping his Smarties in his coffee all at once, he spoke quietly. "So, you've tried just about everything on the menu, huh?"

"I think it's important to try new things to find what you like."

"And when you find what you like, do you stick with it?"

"If you're asking if I'm faithful, Ray, I am."

Ray smiled and met his concerned eyes as he stirred his coffee. "I wasn't, but that's good to know."

"So what were you asking?"

"I guess I was asking if you're going to be satisfied with a limited menu."

"You're a banquet, Ray. I don't need a menu."

Ray flushed fiercely as he sipped his coffee and imagined all the mouth-watering dishes he and Fraser could heat up and serve together.

Half the food still on the plate, Ray sat back, held his stomach and shook his head in dismay. "That's enough. Another bite and I'll pop."

"I highly doubt that, Ray."

"I'm stuffed to the gills, Frase, filled to the brim, not a spot left to plug."

Fraser lifted the napkin and wiped his mouth, thoroughly pleased with Ray's effort. "The portions here are rather larger than what you're used to."

"It was good though."

"Indeed."

Fraser continued to finish off his salad as Ray got a tooth pick and worked it around his back teeth, enjoying the quiet ambience of the cafe.

Mimi showed up beside the table, frowning at the food left on Ray's plate. "Didn't you like it?"

"Delicious, Mimi, but I couldn't eat another bite."

"You want a box to take it home?"

Fraser piped in. "That would be lovely, Mimi. Thank you."

"What about dessert? I've got chocolate pie and some fresh jam cake."

Ray shook his head. "Not for me. What about you, Frase?"

"Not today, Mimi. Perhaps before we leave."

"When's that?"

"We'll be here for two weeks."

Mimi smiled brightly. "You're staying through Christmas?"

"Yes. We'll be going back to Chicago on the 27th."

"You got plans for Christmas Day yet?"

Fraser glanced over at Ray, suddenly nervous. "We really haven't discussed that."

"You're both welcome to come to my place on Christmas Day. Everyone would love to see you and you haven't met the twins yet, Jason and James."

"The twins?"

"Susan's boys." Mimi's happy face saddened. "You know her Glenn was killed in that car crash. Now she's on her own and she's had to go to Toronto for the next two months for a job. I'm keeping them for now until she can find something closer."

"I'm sorry to hear about Glenn. I suppose Aunt Grace watches the boys while you're working."

"Yes. She says Jeremy was getting too grown up, so she was glad to have babies to tend to again." She stood straighter. "So what do you think about Christmas?"

Ray watched the indecision on Fraser's face, so he jumped in. "Can we get back to you on that, Mimi? We haven't really firmed up any plans about anything, just playing by ear. This is one of those whatchamacallits, you know where you get away from everything for a while so you can just relax and think about stuff that needs thinking about."

"Like a retreat?"

"Yeah, that's it, a retreat."

"Is that why you two decided to stay in that ice box out in the woods?"

Ray scratched his head, smiling, keeping his voice light. "Well, that was sort of Fraser's plan. Can't beat the price though."

"Sure I can. Like I said, Susan had to go out of town. You two could stay at her place. It's just sitting empty and I'm sure she wouldn't mind, not with the way she feels about Benton. Sure beats staying in McClain's place using an outhouse." Mimi turned her attention back to Fraser. "No pressure here, Benton. I know how you like living in the wilderness, roughing it and the like, but the offers there if you're interested. Now, let me go put this in a box."

Mimi picked up Ray's plate and carried it off into the kitchen, waving to a burly customer just coming in the door. "Be right there, Al. Hold your horses."

Ray grinned and shook his head. "She reminds me of Ma Vecchio."

"Yes, she does."

Fraser's quiet tone alerted him to his altered, suddenly pensive mood. "What's wrong, Frase?"

"We can get our things and move into town today if that's what you want, Ray. I shouldn't have assumed you'd prefer to stay in primitive conditions."

"Don't be stupid. If I didn't want to be there, I'd be in the motel or something."

"But it's less comfortable than a house in town."

"You saying you don't think I can hack it?"

"Not at all."

"Then shut up. I like where we are. Sure, it's cold when I have to go to the can, but so what? Can't beat the romance factor."

"Are you sure?"

"Fraser, you know me. You think I'd stay out there and freeze my ass off just to please you? Forget about it. The cabin suits me just fine. If it didn't, I'd be sure to let you know." He paused and grinned. "Of course, you can remind me I said that when I'm running out to take a leak when it's thirty below."

"What about the Christmas dinner?"

"As long as we get to spend time alone sometime, then that's fine. I've got no problem meeting all these folks and getting free food and a festive treat or two. Nothing wrong with that."

"It can get rather chaotic at times."

"Sounds like the Vecchios again. Sure Mimi's not Italian?"

"Quite sure."

"What about you, Fraser? Would it bother you to spend time at her place with the kids and everything?"

"Not at all. I just didn't want you to feel obligated."

"I'll let you know when I feel obligated, okay?"

"Understood."

Mimi returned carrying a brown shopping bag used for take out and put it on the table. "Here you go."

"Thank you kindly, Mimi."

"You're welcome."

"Ray and I have discussed your generous offer for Christmas Day and would be more than happy to accept. When would you like us to come by?"

Her face beamed. "That's great. We're going to eat around two, so noon would be fine."

"We'll be there. Thank you."

Rubbing her hands together, Ray could almost see the plans starting in her head. "This will be great. I'm going to call Aunt Grace. She was afraid you'd leave town without getting a chance to see you again."

"Give her my best."

"Sure will." Happy, she leaned over and patted Fraser's cheek and then quickly did the same thing to Ray's. "Benton, you've got great taste."

Before Ray could ask what she meant, she headed off to another table.

"Oh, dear."

"What?"

"I do believe she thinks we're a couple."

"Smart lady."

"Yes, she is."

"And she sure likes you."

Fraser nodded and slipped out of the booth. He picked up the shopping bag as Ray got up to follow. Stopping at the counter, Fraser took out several bills from his hat and put them in the jar at the check out. Ray read the label, "Donations go to Yellowknife Abused Women and Children's Shelter."

Ray smiled in approval as he got his coat and hat, wondering if the charity had anything to do with why Mimi felt so grateful to Fraser. He shut out those ideas momentarily when Fraser moved in close. "Let me put the food in the car before we go to the Trading Center across the street. I'd like to pick up a few things."

"Sure. We doing anything else while we're in town?"

"I need to stop at the RCMP station to pick up the rifles and the hunting licenses from Alan. Then there's a photo center we could visit or I could take you on a walking tour of the local historical sites."

"It's freezing out."

"I'll take that as a no on the tour then."

"Good guess, though I might stop at the photo center. You think they'd rent me a tripod?"

"For what purpose?"

"It's a little hard to hold the camera steady with one hand. I was thinking of putting up a tripod and seeing if I can get some shots at the edge of that forest line just to the back of the cabin. I saw a couple of Moose and some foxes yesterday morning when I went to the can. If I set something up, I might be able to get some good shots when it's not too dark."

"That's a very good idea, Ray. I'm sure if Cal doesn't normally rent tripods, I could persuade him to do so."

Ray shook his head in amusement. "You know all the guys in town by name?"

"I was here for six months on a substitute posting several years ago. As you probably found in your own work, it helps to know the local businessmen and women."

"That's true." Ray put his hat on and steeled himself for the coming blast. "So, this Trading Center, what are you looking to pick up?"

Fraser pulled open the door, his face calm, but his eyes merry. "This and that, Ray, this and that."

This and that turned out to be a mystery box, one that Fraser refused to let him even touch. "Afraid I'll shake it and figure out what it is?"

"Your deductive skills have always been quite impressive, Ray, so yes, that's quite possibly the reason."

"So whatever's in the box is for me, right?"

"Correct."

"For Christmas?"

"If not sooner."

Ray studied the box still on the counter more carefully. It was about two foot square and eight inches deep with no obvious bulges or markings. That narrowed it down some, but knowing Fraser, it could all be a ruse and the real present might be either very small or not in the box at all. Still, it puzzled him that Fraser would pick up a gift when he usually made all his presents. "Not even a hint?"

"You've had all the hints you need, Ray."

"Uhm, you're no fun."

"I beg to differ."

"Oh, yeah?"

"When we get back to the cabin, I plan to prove the point."

"Cocky Mountie."

Fraser's ears turned slightly pink as he continued to survey the other wares in the Trading Center. "Not here, Ray."

"Not here, what?"

"Not here as in we're in public."

Ray smacked himself playfully in the head for effect. "Right, right, we're pretending to be straight men shopping."

Fraser choked as Gus from behind the counter stepped closer in concern. "Are you all right, Constable Fraser? Do you need a drink of water?"

Holding up a hand, careful not to look at Ray, Fraser shook his head. "No, I'm fine, Gus. Thank you kindly."

"I've got some soda in the back if you need some."

"No, honestly, I'm fine."

Not completely convinced, the older man reluctantly stepped back to another customer at the check out.

"You did that on purpose, Ray."

"What?"

"You know perfectly well what."

Ray shrugged, more than happy to drop the innocent act. "Okay, okay, I'll be good."

"I should certainly hope so. Otherwise, the walk back to the cabin could be rather long and chilly."

Not really annoyed, but not ready to let Fraser get by with such a cheap shot, Ray countered. "You really think Mimi would let me walk out there alone?"

Fraser shook his head with a hesitant, but admiring smile. "I'm sure she would be more than happy to either drive you or keep you at her place until I came to my senses. She would, no doubt, take your side of the matter."

"How do you figure that?"

"She has a weakness for pretty men."

"Then she's bound to take your side over mine." Once again, Ray smiled seeing the effect that his words had on Fraser, who actually got flustered and a bit shy. Ray decided to stop teasing. "I'm sorry, Frase. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I guess it's being so far away from home. It kind of makes me a little reckless and I say things I should probably save for when we're alone."

"I find myself doing the same thing, Ray. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that I would actually strand you in town. I hope you know I'd never really do that."

"I do know that. Besides, you know I'd hunt you down and make you pay out the ass if you even thought about it."

"No doubt. So, do you see anything of interest?"

"I'm not really in the mood to do much shopping, though I do want to come back here before we leave. I need to pick up something for Frannie and Welsh."

"Perhaps we can pool our resources and buy them each something together."

"Good idea." Ray picked up a sealskin cap and eyed it from several angles. "You think Welsh would like something like this?"

"In my experience, I've never seen him wear headgear."

"Yeah, me, neither." Ray put the cap back on the shelf and picked up an dark green, hand-knitted wool scarf. "This is kind of nice."

"For Lt. Welsh?"

"No, for Frannie. I figure for Welsh, we could go with a wallet or a belt or something."

"That sounds very practical, Ray. Would you like to get those now?"

Ray shook his head. "No, later will do. I'm just trying to get an idea of what we can get here. Should we go to the photo shop next or go see about the guns?"

"Perhaps you'd like to go to the photo shop on your own while I go pick up the guns."

"Perhaps you'd like a smack in the head."

"Excuse me?"

"No way am I letting you hang around McClain alone."

"Ray, Ray, Ray, I explained..."

"I know what you explained, and I trust you, but no way, no how, are you seeing that guy without me. Understood?"

Fraser nodded, but his eyes twinkled as he stood a little closer. "Understood. Did you know your eyes get darker when you get possessive?"

"Yeah?"

"They turn a deep greenish blue color. It's very becoming. I'm not saying I condone jealousy, I don't, but I must say, I do like it when you're aggressive sometimes."

"I just know what I want and don't want. I want to be with you and I don't want that Alan guy to get a chance to plead his case."

"Plead his case?"

"Yeah, you know, the wife doesn't understand me, but you do case?"

If they'd been alone, Ray had no doubt that Fraser would've leaned in and given him a long, slow kiss. As it was, he just smiled, picked up his box with a tip of his hat to the clerk, and talked over his shoulder. "Coming, Ray?"

Ray didn't have to think twice.

"You know where the shooting range is, Benton. Why don't I run you two out there so you can test out the rifles?"

Fraser hefted one of the guns over his shoulder and shook his head. "That won't be necessary, Alan, but thank you. We appreciate you going to the trouble of getting the proper paper work lined up and for loaning us your rifles during our stay."

"Yeah, Alan, we appreciate that."

McClain nodded, avoiding Ray's eyes and keeping his attention trained on Fraser. "It was no trouble at all. You know all you have to do is ask, Benton. I owe you."

"We've had this discussion before, Alan. There's no need to feel obligated to me for doing my duty."

"Duty didn't require you doing what you did and I'll never forget it. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here. Thanks to you I'm still breathing. That's not something one tends to let go easily, at least I don't." Alan didn't hesitate long enough for Fraser to debate the point. "So, how are you two enjoying the cabin?"

Fraser glanced over at Ray and smiled. "It's been a bit of an adjustment, but so far we've enjoyed it immensely. Again, I have to thank you for allowing us to stay there."

The tall blond grinned, his dimples even deeper. "It's no bother. Cheri and I, we only go out in the summer. I mean, sometimes I'll go out there alone, just to get away from family life for a while, but mostly it's just empty during the winter."

Ray couldn't help himself. "That would explain the comforter then."

McClain flushed slightly. He stood straighter, his broad shoulders stretching the limits of the fitted uniform. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Cheri made me take it with me last time. She said she didn't like to think of me being all alone and cold."

Fraser started talking before Ray could call his friend a liar. "Cheri doesn't mind your occasional solitary retreats? I would think with two children to care for that she'd prefer to have you home whenever you're off duty."

"Cheri's a great wife, Benton. She understands that sometimes a man just needs time on his own." McClain gave Ray a sly side glance before he continued talking directly to Fraser. "I'm surprised you haven't found a good woman yet. Lord knows there are plenty in town who'd love to make an honest man out of you and I'm sure that Chicago was no different."

Ray jumped in before Fraser could volley. "He doesn't need a good woman to make him honest, McClain. Fraser defines honest."

"Now, Ray, I'm sure Alan didn't mean to suggest that I wasn't."

"No, of course not, I just meant..."

"I know what you meant." Ray leaned in toward Fraser, his voice nearly a growl. "Can we go now?"

"Certainly, Ray." Frowning, Fraser picked up the other rifle. "Thank you again, Alan. We'll drop these back before we leave."

Alan nodded, his voice strained and nervous. "Sure, sure, no problem."

Out the door and at the car, Fraser secured the rifles in the back before he turned to Ray. "You were rude."

"So sue me."

"Ray."

"I don't want to talk about it here. Let's go get the tripod and go home, okay?"

Fraser didn't push it right away. He waited all of five steps before he started again. "He was just making conversation."

"He was rubbing it in, trying to piss me off. He knows about us, Fraser, and he still said it."

"We don't know for sure that he knows."

"Oh, he knows. Trust me on this, Fraser, he knows, and he thinks you could do better."

Fraser knew enough not to argue. Instead, he followed Ray into the photo shop, taking off his hat as soon as he entered. A booming voice greeted him. "Constable Fraser, what a sight for sore eyes. I heard you were back up this way. Good to see you survived the big city."

"It's good to see you again, Cal. How are Angela and the children?"

A wiry man in his late fifties came around the corner, smiling as he pulled out a wallet. "They're all fine. The boys are growing faster than I can keep them in skates and hockey sticks. Check out the latest."

Cal held out the pictures with pride and Fraser studied them. "You'll have your own team at this rate."

"You betcha. That's the plan anyway." Cal put his wallet away and turned his attention toward Ray. "And this must be the Yank you brought back." He held out a calloused hand. "The name's Cal Tyler. Pleased to meet you. Any friend of the Constable's is a friend of mine."

Trying his best to lose the rotten mood still lingering from McClain's comment, Ray shook his hand. "Ray Vecchio."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Vecchio."

"Actually, it's Detective Vecchio. Ray works for the Chicago Police Department."

Cal looked at Ray more carefully, his eyes narrowed and more appraising. "Tough job."

"Sometimes. Fraser helps. He's my partner."

"They let you guys do that, work together even though he's Canadian?"

"Sure. Fraser's good. We know talent when we see it."

Cal grinned. "Yeah, he is good." He turned his attention back to Fraser. "So, what do you need?"

"Ray here wanted to see about renting a tripod."

"Sure, I can do that. What kind of camera are we talking about?"

Ray told him and Cal nodded. "I've got just what you need. Give me a minute. I have to dig it out from the back. Not much call for it this time of year."

As soon as he left, Ray scanned the shop. His sight settled on a counter of art supplies. He stepped closer, running his hand over the sketchpad.

"You should buy it. You could use some of your time here to do some drawing."

"It'd just be a waste of paper."

"On the contrary, I like your work, Ray. Go ahead."

"I guess I could just get one of these little notebook thingabobbies and some pencils."

"A sound choice."

Ray got a set of regular drawing pencils and then on impulse grabbed some coloring pencils, too. He put them on the counter just as Cal returned carrying a tripod. "This should do the trick. I use this one myself. Now, keep in mind, if you've not shot anything up here in winter, you can't leave your camera mounted like you could other times. The film freezes and then you get nothing but foggy prints, that is if the shutter doesn't freeze on you first. Then you're screwed."

"What about processing? You do that here or send it out?"

"I can do it here. Twenty-four hour service and color film costs a bit extra." Cal put a small booklet on the stack of Ray's things. "This is a list of prices. Plus, I can do oversized work and mounting, too, if you're interested. I do custom framing, but that takes longer."

"Cal does excellent work, Ray. His own photography is hanging in the visitor's center and is used in some of the Canadian brochures you've seen in the Consulate. He's actually quite renowned throughout Canada."

Ray smiled and cocked his head. "So you're the one responsible for making me think that Canada was nothing but pretty."

"It is pretty. It's just sometimes people forget how damn cold pretty can get."

Fraser and Cal shared a heartfelt, Canadian chuckle and Ray just shook his head. "Okay, okay, you've got me. So, how much for all this and the rent on the tripod for two weeks?"

Cal added up the total and gave it to Ray, who awkwardly pulled out his wallet one-handed, refusing to let Fraser help, either with the payment or getting to his funds. He counted out the money and waited for his change. While Cal handed it back to him, the older man asked, "So, you like to draw in addition to taking pictures?"

"To tell the truth, this is just a trial. I haven't drawn anything since I was in high school."

"Now, Ray, that's not exactly true. You draw all the time."

"I doodle, Fraser. That's not drawing."

"Still, it's very artistic and expressive."

"Yeah, well, we'll see if you still say that after I draw you looking like Gumby a few times."

"Gumby?"

"Never mind. Grab the tripod and I'll get the bag."

"Certainly, Ray."

Cal shook his head in amusement and stepped to the door to hold it open for them as they left. "You two have a good day. Can't wait to see what you shoot, Ray, as long as it's not Fraser."

Ray laughed and headed to the car while Fraser tilted his hat in farewell and walked right behind him on the narrow part of the sidewalk, more than happy to take up the rear and sneak a peek at the view.

They made it all the way home before Fraser started. "We need to talk about what happened."

Ray put his package of art supplies on the table while Fraser put the bag of food and his box right beside it.

"What's there to talk about?"

"A great deal. There was no need for you to be rude to Alan. He is, after all, our host."

Ray didn't answer right away. He took off his coat, gloves, and hat before he sagged down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Shivering, he pulled a wool blanket around his shoulders before he took off his boots. He brought his knees up, putting his feet on the cushion and under the cover. "Start the fire and we'll talk about it. Right now my thoughts are too cold to make any sense."

Starting the fire took several minutes. After a while, the flames put out some serious heat and Ray relaxed as Fraser took off his own coat and hat. He sighed as he sat down next to Ray. "You surprised me."

"Shouldn't have. You know I don't take shit unless I have to."

"Ray, I don't understand. What did Alan do to bring on such a hostile reaction? I was there and I didn't see it."

"That's the point, Fraser, you didn't see it. You didn't see it because you didn't want to see it, still don't want to see it. I mean, you're the guy who knows how much a pound of nails weighs on Pluto, but you've got no idea what this guy is really about. It's right under your nose, but you don't see it."

"I'll admit that you've got a much better eye for these things than I do. It still doesn't excuse rudeness, not unless you're directly challenged."

"What do you call that bit about you needing to find a good woman?"

"He was just making conversation."

Ray shook his head in frustration. "See, see, that's what I'm talking about. You don't get it. You didn't see the look he gave me right before he said it, that look that let me know he was making a point, a point that said you need to find somebody other than this loser from Chicago."

"I think you're overreacting."

"So I'm overreacting. Wouldn't be the first time. I don't like the guy and I'm not going to let him say shit like that in front of me and let him get away with it."

"Could you at least try to be civil?"

Ray's voice took on a harder edge. "Civil? You want me to be civil?"

"He is a fellow member of the service and a friend. Whether he's attracted to me isn't really important. I love you. I'd just like for our stay here to be as pleasant as possible without the strain of worrying that you're going to threaten him with bodily harm at some point."

"You don't think I could take him?"

Fraser's lips thinned into a small smile. "I'm sure you could. I've seen you both fight and, despite the obvious weight difference, there would be no contest."

"Because I fight dirty?"

"Exactly."

Still wrapped in his blanket, Ray shifted and leaned back against the corner of the sofa, keeping his eyes on Fraser. "Okay, okay, I promise to try to play nice, but if he pushes it, all bets are off."

"Understood."

"So, tell me about Mimi. What happened?"

Fraser's expression changed dramatically, frowning as he took a deep breath. "It was one of the most difficult situations I've ever encountered."

Ray sat up. He knew that had to mean a hell of a lot considering all the things Fraser had survived. "What?"

Settling back, Fraser turned his body to face Ray, his muscles tense and his voice strained. "Her husband Jerome suffered from a bipolar condition that, when treated, could be managed fairly well. Unfortunately, he often failed to take his medication and compounded the problem with drinking alcohol."

Ray didn't interrupt, just let Fraser tell the story the way he needed to tell it. "One night, January fifth, he came home inebriated. His abuse escalated to the point that he had a gun to Mimi's head. He threatened to kill them all, including their son Jeremy."

"Shit."

Fraser didn't react to the curse, just kept talking slowly, his eyes trained on the fire, but not really seeing it. "I must confess that I responded to the call truly believing that I could persuade him to hand over the gun and surrender." Fraser swallowed several times and took a deep breath. "I sometimes dream about what happened that night. I dream that I manage to get to him in time, to keep him from shooting himself in front of his wife and child, but I never do."

"You saying he shot himself?"

"Yes. There was nothing I could do. I got him to lower the gun long enough to allow Mimi and Jeremy to get behind me. I didn't, however, convince him to give me the gun."

"You did what you could. You saved Mimi and her son."

"Yes, but it's still difficult to think about what happened. I looked into his eyes, Ray, and I'd never before seen such torment. He wanted to die and sometimes I wonder if I really did everything I could have to stop it."

"What?"

"I mean, I sometimes wonder if some part of me didn't want him to find some relief."

"You really believe that, that you'd let someone shoot himself if you could do anything to stop it?"

"Usually no, but sometimes I'm not sure."

"Well, I'm sure."

"You weren't there."

"Didn't have to be. I know you." Ray put his feet on the floor and scooted closer to Fraser, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "There's no way you would've let the guy die if you could've stopped it. No way."

"I'd like to believe that."

"Believe it. Mimi was there and she believes it."

Fraser relaxed, his voice softer. "I kept expecting her to hate me, but she never did. Instead, she's only shown gratitude. She's also dedicated her life to running the cafe to help support the abuse center."

"So something good came out of it."

"Still, Jeremy saw his father kill himself. He was devastated. He refused to talk for several months afterwards."

"That's really rough stuff for a kid. So, what made him start talking again?"

"I'm not sure. I went to see him one afternoon and I was talking to him about my own experience of losing a parent."

Ray studied Fraser's sad expression, surprised by the admission. "You told him about your mom?"

"Yes. I was the same age as he was when she died. I remember feeling incredibly guilty, responsible somehow." The words choked. "I'm not sure what possessed me to tell him that. I'd never told anyone how I felt, certainly not my grandparents or father, but I told Jeremy. He took my hand and told me not to worry, that my mother was probably in the same place as his father, and that neither had to worry about feeling bad any longer."

Ray pulled Fraser into a hug, his own eyes stinging. "Oh, man, Fraser."

"Needless to say, I was quite moved by his innocence and his effort to comfort me."

"Who wouldn't be? So, was he okay after that?"

"He seemed to do very well considering the circumstances."

"What about you? Seeing a guy kill himself isn't easy."

Fraser turned his head, his face just inches from Ray's. "Have you seen it?"

"Once. This guy jumped off a roof before I could stop him. It wasn't like your situation with the wife and kid being there, but it was bad enough."

"Yes, that kind of despair is rather sobering."

"It sucks."

"Succinctly put, but I agree."

Resting his forehead against Fraser's, Ray whispered, "I'm sorry I brought all this up, but thanks for telling me."

"No, it's fine. You're part of my life now. You have a right to know about events that had an impact on me."

"I appreciate that." Ray kissed Fraser's lips briefly and pulled back, his right hand hooking the back of his neck. "Enough sad talk. You want to go to bed?"

"It's only three o'clock."

"Looks dark out to me. Makes me feel like napping."

"Napping?" Fraser smiled, finally realizing Ray's intent. "Ah, napping."

"Right. Besides, if I remember you said something earlier about proving your point about being a fun guy."

"Right you are, Ray." With that Fraser stood, pulling Ray to his feet by grabbing the front of the blanket. He leaned in and kissed him, the pressure demanding, the heat between them as real as Ray ever remembered. Fraser walked him backwards the short distance to the bed.

Sitting on the edge, Ray proceeded to strip quickly, all the while watching Fraser get undressed with record speed. Before he even had his own thermals off, Fraser stood naked, his cock already hard. Fraser helped him to finish taking off his underwear and then slipped them both under the covers, the comforter on top, trapping the rising heat.

Ray moaned as Fraser pressed against him and captured his mouth again, the kisses deep and hungry. After a few minutes of that, Fraser changed tactics, shoving Ray's legs apart. Nips and licks drove Ray crazy as Fraser used his mouth to move along his neck, down over his nipples, over his navel, and finally down to his cock. "Jesus, Fraser."

Fraser didn't bother to answer, merely increased his efforts. His mouth took Ray greedily, his tongue and lips making sure to suction exactly the way Ray liked, the way that brought him off fast and hard. Gripping the sheets, his hips lifting, Ray groaned in pleasure as Fraser sucked him. Sweat trailed down Ray's face and coated his skin as he bucked up time and time again as Fraser brought him to the edge, but wouldn't let him come.

"Fuck, Fraser. Please."

Disregarding the pleas, Fraser persisted in his torture, using his hands to stroke his thighs and belly, his mouth to ride him. Swarming with pressure, Ray cursed over and over, begging Fraser to finish. Too hot to think, too wound up to do anything but pray for release, Ray cupped Fraser's head with his right hand. The dark hair caught between his fingers as he fucked Fraser's mouth, Ray thrust even deeper. Without warning, Ray slammed upward and came, the rush flooding his body with pure heat, with pure honey-colored sprays of pleasure.

Fraser kept sucking, kept licking, and Ray whimpered as his dick delivered even more ripples of heat, spikes of ecstasy he had no right to expect. Sweet Jesus he loved this man.

The world settled from bright to hazy as Fraser stretched out over him, skin to skin, his weight solid and delicious.

Ray laughed, his throat raw and husky. "You call that fun?"

Fraser lifted his head, his eyes twinkling. "What do you call it?"

"Fanfuckingfabulous."

Kissing his nose, Fraser shook his head. "I don't believe that's a word, Ray."

"Then Webster never got a blowjob that took his fucking his head off."

"Well, there you go then. That certainly explains it."

Ray sighed deeply, well aware of Fraser's unrelieved condition. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll do you."

Suckling at Ray's neck, still hungry, still greedy, Fraser bit his skin. "I want you to make love to me, to really fuck me."

Ray hissed at the bite and then whistled as he teased, "Fuck you, huh?"

Breathy words filled his ear. "Oh, yes, Ray, I'd like that very much."

"Fanfuckingfabulous."

Ray woke to humming. He sighed and rolled on his side, watching Fraser stand in his bright red long johns and boots, heating up water at the stove. Relaxed and still a little bit sleepy, Ray enjoyed the view. Fraser's voice pleased him, the rich tenor tones smooth and yet powerful. He closed his eyes and tried to place the tune, some Christmas song, something he'd heard before. "What is that?"

The humming stopped. "What?"

"The song. It's kind of sad, but pretty. What is it?"

"'Greensleeves'". I'm glad you like it. It's one of my favorite songs, too."

"Sing it."

"I thought I was."

"You were humming."

"I didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't. Sing it for me."

Fraser smiled and proceeded to do just that, the melody even stronger now that he didn't have to worry about waking Ray. The whole cabin filled with his partner's fine voice and Ray took it all in, wondering if he might still be dreaming, might be making all this great stuff up in his head. Who in the world lived like this, tucked away in a remote cabin with a gorgeous singing Mountie all his own to make love to? It had to be a dream, had to end sometime. He hated the thought of ever having to leave and go back to that other world, that other life where life meant dealing with things he didn't want to deal with, ever.

The song stopped and Fraser stepped closer. "Ray, are you all right?"

"You sing nice."

Fraser sat on the edge of the bed, his hand on the comforter over Ray's hip. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Ray, you've got that look."

"What look?"

"That disturbed look you sometimes get."

"Disturbed, huh?"

"Does the song remind you of something unpleasant?"

Ray sighed deeply and turned on his back, his body still covered, his head propped up on a stack of pillows. "No, I like the song and the way you sing it. It's nothing like that. I just can't seem to go with the moment for long. I had it when I first woke up and then I got to thinking."

"Ah, always a dangerous plan."

Ray smiled weakly. "Yeah, I know. Anyway, I got to thinking about how good it is here, even if it is colder than any place has a right to be, and then about how hard it's going to be to go back. It's so good here, just the two of us, you singing, me being lazy, just taking time to make love and feel good again. I keep thinking it's too good, that the better it is, the harder it's going to be to go back. I know it's crazy, that I should just be glad for now, but that's what I was thinking. So, yeah, that disturbs me, the idea that we can't just stay here and live and be happy without shrinks and scumbags and all the other stuff that goes with being Vecchio when I'd rather just be me."

"I understand completely. I must confess to having similar feelings. We have a privacy here that we don't have in Chicago."

"Of course, it helps that neither of us have to go to work. I guess if we lived up here, you'd be out wandering the glacier or something."

Fraser smiled and shrugged. "That's possible, though that would more likely occur further north in one of the more isolated areas."

Ray sat up a little higher, pulling the cover up with him to keep from getting too cold. "You think when you finally come back to work up here, that's where you'd want to go, somewhere even more isolated than here?"

"I really can't say, Ray. Right now, wherever you are is fine."

"For now, but what about later? Where do you really want to end up?"

"Wherever you are, Ray."

"And I want to be where you are, too. So what I'm asking and what you're avoiding answering is where would you like that to be if you get a say in the matter?"

"Ideally?"

"That's what we're talking about, yeah."

"I like to have a posting near my father's cabin in the far north. I know that's not reasonable and it's not something I expect to happen, but ideally, yes, that's what I'd like."

"Why isn't it reasonable? They got a glut of guys who want to work out in the middle of nowhere?"

"No, but it wouldn't be fair to you."

Ray frowned and scratched his head. "Why not?"

"There aren't many employment opportunities. What would you do?"

Shaking his head, the truth of the statement sank in. "Oh. Good point. Guess they don't have much call for Chicago flatfoots in the snow."

"The best scenario to satisfy immigration would be for me to be posted to a town like Yellowknife or White Horse. There could be some security work or there's the possibility of you working as a mechanic, either in someone else's employ or in your own business."

Ray lifted his right arm and put it behind his head, relaxing even further back into the pillow. "Or I could just be a house guy. We could finish building your Dad's cabin. I could fix up the place and take care of Dief, learn to cook, build a shed, take pictures."

"Yes, you could."

Startled by the easy answer, Ray fixed his eyes on Fraser. "What?"

"Seriously, Ray. I'd have no problem with that scenario."

"Seriously? You mean, you wouldn't mind me living off you?"

"I wouldn't consider it living off me when you're spending time building our home and future."

Ray tilted his head, studying Fraser, a small smile forming. "You really see me doing that, being a homebody?"

"I don't think I would have before this, but after seeing you here, I can easily envision it."

"You're the one who has the domestic side."

Fraser grinned. "Well, I would insist on doing most of the cooking."

"No problem, and knowing you, you'd end up doing a lot of the cleaning, too."

"Possibly."

"But the rest of it, yeah, that's a nice picture. I don't see it happening, but it's not such a hard thing to think about, living out in the boonies, worrying about basics instead of city stuff that'll drive a guy crazy."

"I don't think we should eliminate the possibility completely, Ray. In fact, the more you talk about it, the more appealing it is."

"You just want to keep me barefoot and pregnant."

Keeping a straight face, Fraser shook his head. "On the contrary, Ray. Pregnancy isn't in my plans at all."

"Okay, okay, I'll buy that, but what about the barefoot part?"

Patting the bed, Fraser motioned for Ray to move to the edge. "Get up and put on your underwear. I have something for you."

"A present?"

"Yes."

"The box?"

"Indeed."

"Cool." Ray swung his legs over the side of the bed and quickly pulled on his thermal underwear bottoms and then the top. He already had his socks on, so he reached for his boots only to have Fraser move them out of his reach. "What?"

"You'll see. Now stay put."

Ray waited impatiently while Fraser retrieved the box and handed it to him before sitting back down. "I ordered these while we were still in Chicago."

"These?"

"Open the box and see."

Ray took off the lid, his eyes going wide with excitement. "Oh, my God. You didn't."

"I did."

"Mukluks!" Ray reached in and pulled out the traditional, handmade boots. He ran his hand over the smooth brown leather and darker, super soft fur. "They're beautiful."

"I took your measurements in Chicago and sent them to Ari Windwalker. They're made from moose hide for the boot itself, double layers of seal skin for the soles, and beaver fur for the cuffs. She could have done the beading if she'd had more time, but I wasn't sure if you'd want that or not."

"No, they're perfect." Ray turned and leaned in, kissing Fraser and then pulling back. "Help me put them on. I don't know if I can do the lacings one handed."

"Put your jeans on first."

"Sure, sure, that makes sense." Ray put the mukluks down just long enough to pull on his jeans and then sit down again. Fraser helped him pull on the long boots and then laced up the front of each one to right below his knees. Ray stood and shook his head as he stared down in admiration at his new footwear. "They're so warm, it's like I can feel my feet again. This is greatness. Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

Ray sat back down, his voice choked at the thought of all the planning and scheming Fraser must have done to accomplish the surprise. "I'm serious, Fraser. This was real greatness, the best."

"I was more than happy to do it, Ray. You just can't get good mukluks in Chicago." Before Ray could protest more, Fraser cupped his face. "I enjoy doing things for you, Ray. I love you." Leaning in, he kissed him tenderly and drew back. "You're a blessing in my life."

Ray couldn't speak, couldn't form words to say what his heart wanted him to say. Instead, he captured Fraser's mouth with his own and prayed one day he'd deserve the love that his partner gave him so freely.

Ray couldn't sleep, couldn't even keep his eyes shut more than a few minutes without wanting to fly out the door to go running wild in the snow. Pacing drove Fraser crazy, especially in the middle of the night, so Ray tried his best to be still, to be as quiet as he could be, which wasn't easy, not for Ray, not even on his best days.

Settled on the sofa in front of the fire, Ray poured his energy into the sketching, finding that after the first few bad attempts, things started to take shape and look more like what he wanted and less like Dief decided to take up drawing instead of chasing rabbits.

"That's not bad."

Ray glanced up and blinked several times in the low light. "You mean for a Yank?"

"For anyone. The likeness is rather uncanny."

"Thanks. He's easy to draw, easy on the eyes."

Fraser Senior stared down at the image of his son and smiled. "Just like his mother, though she usually wore clothes."

"Yeah, but I like him this way."

"Drawing nudes has its own challenges, but I must admit you have a knack." Fraser Senior moved to stand in front of the fire, holding his hands out to warm them.

"You can still feel heat when you're dead?"

"Not really, but that doesn't mean you stop missing it."

"That sucks."

"It's not so bad. One can still imagine what it was like before and sometimes the power of the mind is far greater than the reality of a situation."

Ray didn't even want to go near that serious thought, so he focused more on the lines of Fraser's thighs, shading in the hollow right at the top of his left hip.

"You've got quite an artistic talent. Why didn't you ever use it?"

Biting his lower lip, working to get the image just right, Ray shrugged. "My dad said it was for sissies. By the time I knew better, I'd moved on, started working as a cop. Didn't have time for it anymore."

"Parents can be cruel without intending to be. I'm sure your father meant well."

"I'm sure he did. Doesn't mean he was right."

"No, it doesn't." Fraser Senior paused. "This place suits you. I told Benton it would."

Ray stopped drawing and looked up. "Can the dead tell the future?"

"Not exactly the future, no."

"What's that mean, not exactly?"

"It means that there are many possible futures. No one has just one path."

"And you can see these paths, all these paths from where you are?"

"No, but I do see some of them. I can sense things, too, things I never realized when I was alive, other people's feelings. It's quite unsettling at times."

Rubbing his face, Ray tried to take that in, take in the idea that some spirit could actually see all the shit ahead, all the different ways he could go to get some place that he might not want to end up. "You guys got rules about telling people about what to do and what not to do?"

"If we do, nobody's bother to mention it. Nobody gives you a guidebook when you're dead, Son. It's like life that way. You just wander around and hope for the best."

"That doesn't seem right. Seems like you live and then you die and you ought to get something better than you had before, you know? You should at least get some kind of pay off for dying."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Then how does it work? Can't you give me some clues about what I should do to make it turn out all right? I mean, if you can see all these paths, can't you just give me a hint?"

"You're here with my son. That's a good start."

"But I can't stay here."

"Not now, no, but perhaps in the future."

"You saying that's one of my paths, one of my choices?"

"Ray, who are talking to?"

Startled, Ray turned to see Fraser sitting up in the bed, watching him with concern. "Your dad."

"My father's here?"

Ray pointed by the fireplace, but found the space empty. "Well, hell, you scared him off."

"Ray, come to bed. It's three in the morning. You haven't slept more than a few hours in the last three days."

"I'm fine. Let me finish this first."

Fraser threw off the covers, slipped on his boots and walked over to the sofa. Standing behind Ray, he looked down at the drawing. "Oh, dear."

Ray laughed and held up the pad. "You like it?"

"Well, it certainly is a good likeness."

"Yeah, you look hot."

Clearing his throat, Fraser blushed bright red. "Whatever possessed you to draw me in such a state of arousal?"

"It's a good look for you."

Fraser reached down and took the pad from Ray's hand and studied the drawing more carefully. "Despite my embarrassment at the subject, this is really quite well done, Ray."

"Thanks."

"No, I mean it. I knew you could draw, but not with this kind of proficiency."

It was Ray's turn to blush. "Thanks."

Fraser leaned over and kissed him before pulling back. "Come to bed, Ray. You need to sleep."

"I can't. I'm wide awake. I might as well use the time for something interesting instead of tossing and turning and keeping you awake."

Petting Ray's hair with affection, Fraser frowned, obviously worried. "I think your medication must have affected your sleep patterns. Ever since you finished taking the antibiotics and the Phenergan, you've been unable to rest."

"Guess I'm making up for all the time I lost when I was doped up."

"But you're supposed to be resting. I don't want you to get overly fatigued."

Ray captured Fraser's hand and drew it to his mouth. He kissed the palm lightly and shook his head. "I'm not going to get sick again, Fraser. I just get like this sometimes. It's no big deal. Go to sleep and I'll try to be quiet."

"This has happened before?"

"Lots of times. I can go days without sleep. It comes in handy on stakeouts."

"But it's not healthy, especially when you're convalescing."

"I'm beyond convalescing, Fraser. I'm good." Ray motioned with his head toward the bed. "Now go on, go back to bed."

Instead of moving toward the bed, Fraser came around and sat down next to him on the sofa. "What were you and my father talking about?"

"He liked your picture."

"Good God, you showed it to him?"

"Hey, I hate to break it to you, but he's less of a prude than you are."

"I doubt that."

"It's true."

"I'm not a prude."

"And Frannie's not Catholic." When Fraser didn't argue, Ray shifted a little closer. "It's weird, his dropping in tonight. He usually doesn't show up unless I'm in trouble."

Fraser's voice lowered, became a hush. "Yes, I know. What did he say?"

"You couldn't hear him?"

"No. Apparently, he chose to only show himself to you this time."

"Double weird. He didn't say much, just that there are no guidebooks for the dead and that there are many paths to different futures. It wasn't very helpful. I kind of hoped that when you kicked off, you got a break, you got a better idea about what it's all about."

"He tends to enjoy cryptic responses."

"He likes to mindfuck, yeah, I get that from him, but it's not like he's mean about it. It's just his way. Was he like that before he died?"

Fraser took several moments to answer. "I really couldn't say."

"Why not? He's your dad."

"Yes, but despite that, I didn't know him very well. Our relationship was very formal, rather distant. I regret we never really got to know one another as friends."

Ray put an arm around Fraser and gave him a quick hug. "Well, look at it this way, not everybody gets a second chance after the old man passes away."

"Perhaps."

"No perhaps about it. It's a good thing, this Mountie ghost thing."

"I have to confess, when I first started seeing him, I thought I was losing my mind."

"I can imagine. If I hadn't been out of my mind already, I would've thought the same thing."

"But that's the thing, Ray. The fact that you see him, too, that changes the whole situation. He's not a figment of my imagination. He's real, but in a way that makes me very uneasy. It forces me to reevaluate my whole concept of the spiritual world."

"Is that harder to do than thinking you need a padded cell?"

Fraser chuckled and turned to face Ray. "Actually, it's a relief."

"You think we'll ever get to see him at the same time? You think he could do that?"

"I know it's possible, but for whatever reason, he's chosen not to do so."

Ray settled back, drawing Fraser closer. "It's kind of neat though, thinking about him looking out for us from the other side. I'm just glad he's cool with us being together."

"Would it bother you if he weren't?"

"Hell, yes. You think I want a pissed off Mountie coming after me from the grave for sleeping with his son? No, I like your dad. He's a little odd, but fair."

"Odd?"

"Like you."

"Ah. Odd as in eccentric."

"Eccentric, Canadian, same difference."

Fraser laughed against Ray's chest. "Come to bed, Ray. I'm tired, and I must confess, I have trouble sleeping alone now."

"Spoiled?"

"Rotten."

"Sure, okay. You'll have to help me take off my mukluks."

Nuzzling his neck, Fraser whispered, "I can help you take off more than that."

Ray chuckled and let himself enjoy the moment, pushing away all the thoughts, all the worries, all the nightmares that lingered and kept him from sleeping.

"Wow, these are pretty good."

Cal Tyler smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "More than good, Ray. They're fantastic." He reached over and pulled out two of the shots from the first batch of color photographs. "Especially these. How the hell did you get those without over exposure?"

Ray studied the pictures of the eagles and grinned. "I fell on my ass and just kept shooting."

"Good job." Cal held up the one with the eagle in mid flight. "This one looks as good as any I've done. You sure you've never done this job professionally?"

Flushing with pride, Ray shook his head. "I just get lucky shots, that's all."

"It's more than that. You've got the eye. People bring film in here every day and I rarely see stuff this good. You should think about sending these off to be published."

"He's right, Ray. These are beautiful."

The awe in Fraser's voice surprised him. "You think so?"

"Yes. I like the eagles, but I especially like the series of arctic foxes right at the edge of the forest. Excellent composition and clarity."

"Well, it helps to have great stuff to look at. The little guys just looked right at me. They didn't seem scared at all."

"Which in itself is rather unusual."

"I could get more good shots if it wasn't dark here most of the time. I can only shoot a couple of hours a day and at short intervals. It gets too cold. Plus, I can use the tripod for some of the shots with the long lens, but like these of the eagles, I had to free hand it. Not easy with one hand, let me tell you."

Cal looked through the second stack of pictures and held up another one. "Bull moose. Not easy to get."

"He was just passing through. Got kind of pissed off, but didn't charge me."

Fraser nodded, frowning. "That was the morning I thought you got frostbite."

"Yeah, well, I didn't. I just can't wear gloves and take pictures."

Cal interrupted. "Look, I've got this friend who's looking for quality nature shots both for his magazine and for a book he's putting together about wildlife of Western Canada. I'd love to send him these. He pays way above the going rate, too."

Ray had to force himself to keep breathing and not lose his smile. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Ray, this is a great opportunity."

Stunned, Ray shook his head, realizing Fraser just had a very human moment. "Fraser, think about it. Vecchio's the name of a detective, not a photographer."

Cal looked honestly puzzled, but Fraser stilled. "Ah. Understood." Fraser turned to Cal, his face suddenly neutral. "Ray's right. This wouldn't be the best time to seek publication. However, we do thank you for suggesting it and offering to help. It was very kind."

Cal looked first at Fraser and then back at Ray, confused. "I don't get it. This could be a big chance. It doesn't mean you can't do your police work, too."

"Well, it kind of does, for now anyway. That's not saying two years from now I might not change my mind." Before Cal could argue, Ray pulled out his wallet while Fraser worked at stuffing the pictures back into the folder. "Look, I need three more rolls of film. How much do I owe you?"

Cal got the film and put it on the counter. "I was kind of hoping to work out a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"I wanted to do a blow up of the eagle picture and put it on display. It'd make a great advertisement. I'll trade you the development costs and the film. Plus, you keep the rights. I just want to use it in the shop."

"My name doesn't go on it and it's a deal."

"Why don't you want your name on it?"

"I just don't. You can tell people if you want, but I just don't want anything in writing."

Fraser stayed quiet and after a few moments, Cal nodded. "Okay, sure, nothing in writing. You Yanks have curious ways."

Ray snorted. "Kettle, pot."

Looking even more baffled, Cal turned to Fraser for translation. "Ray's making reference to the old saying about the kettle calling the pot black, as if to say that Canadians are a curious lot unto ourselves."

"Ah, well, sure, that sort of makes sense." Cal smiled and shrugged. "Can't fault you for thinking that. We've all got strange ways if you look too close."

Ray didn't argue the point, didn't feel like talking about weird ways, not when he knew the real reason he couldn't publish the pictures. "Why don't I leave you the negatives and I'll pick them up when I bring the next batch of film back?"

"That's fine. Christmas is coming up, but I'll make time for anything you want to bring in. Professional courtesy."

"I'm not a professional."

"You should be." Cal held up a hand to keep Ray quiet and grinned. "I'm through with it. You don't want fame and fortune, that's up to you."

Ray picked up his film while Fraser got the package of photographs, including a whole roll of nothing but candid Fraser shots. "Thanks, Cal. It means a lot that you don't think I'm just wasting film out there."

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. Of course, you don't know me well enough to know that for sure. You might think I'm just blowing smoke, but most folks around here will tell you, I don't say stuff I don't mean. You're good. If you want to keep that to yourself, then that's up to you. None of my business. Just let me know if you change your mind. I've been around long enough to know the market and have a lot of contacts. We've been looking for fresh blood."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks." Ray turned his attention to his quiet partner. "Come on, Frase. Let's get these to the car and then I want some of that chicken over at the cafe."

"Certainly, Ray. Mimi will be glad to see you." Fraser tipped his hat to Cal. "Thank you kindly."

"You're welcome."

As soon as they were out the door, Fraser got very serious, speaking quietly as they made their way to the vehicle. "I'm sorry, Ray. I can't believe I made such a careless error."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. If you weren't undercover, you'd have no problem sending those photographs in for publication and getting the recognition you deserve."

"But I am undercover, so let's drop it."

"But, Ray..."

"I said, drop it, Fraser. Please."

"Consider it dropped. For now."

Ray cursed under his breath and waited by the door while Fraser unlocked it. "I changed my mind. Let's just go back to the cabin."

"I thought you were hungry."

"Not hungry enough to put up with this."

"This?"

"You just waiting around to start in again."

Fraser hesitated and took a deep breath. "Very well. I'll let it drop. I won't talk about it again unless you bring it up first."

"Promise?"

"As you wish."

"Cause I got to tell you, Fraser, it's bad enough knowing that I could do something cool like that and make a living at it and have the door slammed in my face because of Vecchio. I don't need you going on like you do about it, too."

"I don't understand, Ray. How do I go on about it, as you say?"

"That way you do, that way where you just keep going, like now. Let's just go eat and don't talk about it."

"Certainly, Ray."

Dropping his forehead against the top of the car, Ray took a deep breath. "I just wish it were over, that's all."

"What?"

"This Vecchio thing. I want it to be over. I want to be me again." Fraser's unexpected hand on his shoulder surprised him and he jerked his head up. "What?"

"Ray, you are you, and this assignment won't go on indefinitely."

"I know. I just get frustrated."

Fraser touched his cheek gently. Ray leaned into the warm contact briefly, but then reluctantly pulled away. "We're in the middle of the street here, Fraser."

"Understood. Let's eat and then go home so we can touch freely."

"You really that hungry?"

Smiling, Fraser headed back toward the driver's side of the car. "Not at all."

Ray climbed in. "Home it is then."

"I miss Dief."

Fraser looked up from his copy of Shakespeare's sonnets. "As do I."

Stretched out on the sofa, his feet up in Fraser's lap, Ray stared at the fire. "Bet he doesn't miss us. Bet he and Ante are having a great time."

"Well, as you know, I'm not one for wagers, but I would imagine that after the first day or so, Diefenbaker missed us as well."

Ray turned his attention towards Fraser. "Why do you say that?"

"Francesca mentioned something about experimenting with Diefenbaker's fur to see if she could match it to Ante's."

Horrified for his wolf friend, Ray shook his head in disbelief. "Ante's a poodle for godsakes. Tell me you told her to forget about it."

"Oh, I did, but you know Francesca Vecchio as well as I do. She is a woman of steely determination."

"Poor Dief."

"Indeed."

Ray sighed, fighting off the image of Dief stuck with a ridiculous cut that would take months to grow out. How many times had he lived through that before he found Lila? Too many damn times. "We should call Frannie and make sure she's not doing anything crazy."

"Diefenbaker will be fine, Ray. Don't worry. He's lived through worse things than a bad haircut. Besides, it's possible she was just ripping my chain and had no real intention of doing such an insensitive thing."

"Ripping your chain? You mean, yanking your chain?"

"Yes, yes, yanking."

"Yeah, she's been known to do that. Let's hope that's true for Dief's sake." Before Fraser could return to reading, Ray sighed deeply again.

"What's wrong, Ray?"

"I think we need a tree."

"A tree? We have a whole forest full of trees."

Ray closed his eyes, his patience fading. "I mean, we need a Christmas tree." When Fraser didn't answer right away, Ray opened his eyes to see his partner frowning. "What? You don't like Christmas trees?"

"No, I do. I've just never really had one. We decorated bushes when I was growing up and as an adult, well, living alone, I just never could justify the expense."

Ray sat up, a little angry at the adults in Fraser's childhood. "You mean, you never had a tree, not even when you were little?"

"That was so long ago, but, no, I don't believe so. There were so many other things to do to survive, that taking time for a Christmas tree just seemed frivolous."

"Frivolous? How can a Christmas tree be frivolous? It's a Christmas tree. Jeez. It's like a symbol or something."

Fraser's sad expression softened and changed. "And a good one. I think a Christmas tree is a grand idea, Ray."

"Damn right."

"We'll cut one tomorrow at first light."

"Good, good. Great idea." Ray paused and looked around the cabin, his enthusiasm snowballing along. "We're going to need decorations. We got any popcorn and cranberries in the house? We can make the garland out of that."

"I don't believe so, but we can get those in town tomorrow."

"Maybe we should make a list of stuff that we'll need." Ray stalled and hit his head with his right fist. "Oh, shit."

"What? Ray, are you ill?"

"No, I just made a list reference. Next thing you know, I'll be talking about curling." Falling back with a belly laugh at his own joke, Ray pulled Fraser into a quick, playful kiss. "This is going to be fun. We can spend the next few days coming up with stuff to put on it. No store bought stuff, just things we get out of the woods or make ourselves, okay?"

Fraser's eyes sparkled as the holiday spirit finally seemed to take hold. "That sounds wonderful, Ray. I've got just the idea for some things I can make that should fit quite nicely."

"What things?"

"That would be telling."

Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser, who still leaned heavily against him. "What, you want to make this like a contest, see what kind of stuff we can come up with to put on the tree to surprise each other?"

"I think that sounds very entertaining."

"But hard. This is a one room cabin, Fraser. If you think I'm going to sit out in the freezing cold in the outhouse to make ornaments, then you're nuts."

"We could hang a blanket periodically to work."

"And I'd sit on one side and you the other to work at the same time. That way we could still talk to each other, but we couldn't see what the other guy was doing until we were finished and ready to put it all on the tree."

"Except for the garland, Ray. I think we should do that part together."

"Yeah, and the star. We can do that together, too."

"Star?"

"For the top?"

"I thought that was supposed to be an angel."

Ray chuckled. "We'll make an angel with a star." Then he drew Fraser down for another kiss while he thought of all the cool ways he could make nifty paper ornaments out of photographs.

The scent of pine filled the cabin as Ray jabbed his needle and thread at one hell of a stubborn cranberry. "I don't remember this being this hard to do when I was a kid."

"I would imagine you had the free use of both hands as a child."

"Oh, yeah. That's probably it." Once again, Ray tried to steady the round fruit as he stuck the needle through. He finally managed it and then put some freshly popped popcorn both on his plate and in his mouth. "I like the tree, Fraser. We did a good job picking one out. Not too big, not too small, it's just right."

"Why does that sound familiar?"

"Because I sound like Goldilocks checking out the three bears. But it's true. You did a good job setting it up, too. Me, I usually ended up with a mess when I tried to put up a live tree. Needles and bark everywhere. Believe me, Stella didn't like that much."

Very precisely, Fraser finished off another string of garland and reached for some more thread. "Did you and Stella have a tree with homemade decorations as well?"

Snorting, Ray shook his head. "You kiddin'? Stella and homemade? Not in this lifetime. If it wasn't flashy, store bought, or antique, it didn't go on the tree." Ray's voice changed slightly, more tight, a little strained. "I remember one year, I made this little blond angel, something I thought she'd like, something personal. I don't know what I was thinking."

"She didn't like it?"

"She laughed at it. She thought it was a joke."

Fraser stopped working and watched Ray, unhappy at the revelation. "That seems rather cruel even for Stella."

"Nah, not really. She just didn't get the whole sentimental thing. Romance was never her deal."

"And yet you're one of the most romantic people I've ever met. Seems an odd pairing."

"Well, it was. Guess that's why it flopped. Romance meets hardcore practical and snooty. Fails every time."

"I'm sorry."

"It's history. Sorry I brought it up. I know you hate me talking about Stella."

Fraser resumed his work on the decorations. "There are times when discussing your ex-wife is simply inappropriate, but I don't really mind if you need to talk about her in general. She was a huge part of your life for most of your life."

"Thanks." Ray paused and looked up, frustrated with the sixth kernel of corn that fell apart and refused to go on his string. "So, like when would be the times when it'd be inappropriate?"

"In bed."

"Oh, right. I get that. I'm sorry. I don't mean to do it. It just happens."

"It's all right, Ray. I understand, and you don't do it all the time."

"But I do sometimes. Just smack me a good one and I'll stop."

"I'm not going to smack you, Ray."

"Well, at least call me on it, tell me if it bothers you."

"I believe I just did."

Ray shook his head in frustration and threw down his thread. He reached for some more popcorn. "How are you getting that stuff to go on so easy? Every time I try to put the needle through, it crumbles off."

"Once again, Ray, I think it's easier with two good hands." Fraser looked up and smiled. "Perhaps if you'd simply select the bit to be attached, I'll do the manual part of the process."

"Like a team?"

"Exactly."

"Smart guy." Ray picked up a cranberry and handed it over. "So, you know what else we can do?"

"What?"

"We can cut strips of colored paper and make chains."

"Ah, that explains the red and green sheets of construction paper you purchased at the market."

Ray continued to alternate between handing Fraser his popcorn and berries with nibbling on popcorn from the bowl. Somehow it tasted a lot better than it did at home, more crunchy and less spongy. Luckily, they'd bought plenty so that he could eat all he wanted and they'd still have enough to put on the tree. "When I was a kid, it was my job to glue the strips and make the chains. Sometimes my mom would let me to draw stuff on each strip first, or sometimes, we'd put names of different people we knew. One Christmas, I think I was seven or eight, my dad was laid off. We used strips cut out from old magazines instead of regular paper. My mom told me to find the best pictures to cut out. It worked just as good."

"Your father wasn't working and you still had a tree? How could you afford it?"

Ray shrugged and picked out a bad berry before finding a good one to use. "I don't know. We just always had a tree, no matter what. I mean, I didn't get a lot of presents, but I always got something, maybe a model car or a game. One year I got my first set of tools, a whole box of wrenches just for me. And I always got oranges, nuts, and some chocolate candy in my stocking."

"Stocking?"

Ray stopped eating and frowned. "Tell me you at least had a stocking when you were a kid, at least tell me that."

Fraser didn't stop working on the garland, but shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I've heard of the custom, but never participated as such."

"As such? Damn it, Fraser, that sucks."

"It wasn't like my mother or my grandparents didn't want me to have a good Christmas, Ray. They just didn't celebrate it quite as enthusiastically as others seemed to. Things were very hard and the resources slim."

"They still could've hung a stocking, Fraser. You were only one kid." When Fraser didn't answer, Ray leaned his head on his shoulder, his voice softer. "It's okay though, because we've got a mantle and we're going to use it, a stocking for you and a stocking for me."

"I'm afraid our stockings should probably be laundered first."

"Good point."

Fraser held out a hand. "Berry, Ray?"

"Oh, sure. Sorry." Ray got back to work, handing Fraser materials and considered the situation some more. "You know there's a thrift store in town. We could go there and see if they've got an old blanket we could cut up. We could make our own stockings."

"Wouldn't that require sewing?"

"You sew. I've seen you. You cut your buttons off the uniform, polish them bright and shiny, and then sew them back on all the time, which I've been meaning to say, is really awe inspiring."

"Why thank you, Ray."

"I mean it, every time I see you do it, I wonder how many other guys would go to all that trouble just to polish a button and then I think, not a hell of a lot. But then I remember I'm talking about you, and it all makes sense."

Fraser tied off another string of garland. "I'm not quite sure how to take that."

"It's good, it's good. It just says a lot about the kind of person you are."

As he threaded another needle, Fraser prompted, "What kind of person do you think I am, Ray?"

"You're somebody who does things the right way, no shortcuts. Someone who's not afraid to do a little work, someone who does what it takes to make sure it's all good."

"You can tell all that from how I polish my buttons?"

Ray sighed and picked through the rest of the popcorn to find the fullest kernels. "It's not the buttons so much as the process. It's not about the buttons, its about what they represent."

Fraser paused. "What do you think they represent?"

"Pride, self-respect, loyalty to the service."

Putting down the string and needle, Fraser wrapped an arm around Ray's neck and drew him closer. "I never really thought about all that, Ray. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For your insight and your beautiful mind."

Ray flushed a deep red as Fraser kissed him. "Freak."

"Your freak."

"You bet."

"So, what about the stockings? You game to see what you can make with a old blanket and some thread?"

"Give me some buttons, too, and I'll see what I can do."

"Deal."

"Fraser, my mukluks are getting splinters out here."

"Sorry, Ray. I'll try to be more careful."

Ray shook his head and smiled at Fraser's rather contrite voice. "You about done yet?"

"Almost, but not quite. I might require just a bit more time to complete all the tasks."

"Sure, but it's getting lonely on this side of the curtain. I miss your face. Whose wild idea was it to do it this way?"

"Just a bit more patience, Ray. I won't be much longer."

Ray walked back to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. Fraser's time behind the blanket had gone on a lot longer than he'd expected. He'd finished making all his own ornaments over an hour ago. He'd admired the pine boughs and stockings on the mantle, paced a few hundred times, and then decided he didn't have the patience to wait much longer. He added some chocolate candy to his cup, stirred, and then sipped. Canadian coffee seemed stronger somehow, but he didn't mind. He liked the extra kick, something to help him keep away the fuzzy times when his head and body wanted to fade out and call it quits.

Settling at the table, he picked up the grocery list, admiring Fraser's neat, precise writing. "You still set on fixing a feast on Christmas Eve?"

"I thought I'd try my hand at a traditional meal this year."

"We're having goose instead of turkey?"

"Would you prefer turkey?"

"Well, we always had it, or ham, depending on what Dad brought home that year." The thought caused an unexpected pang. Frowning, he put the pad back on the table, pushing away the pain of knowing that his dad hated him for loving Fraser. Fuck that, leave it alone, he didn't want to think about his father. "It doesn't really matter what you fix, Fraser. Fix reindeer if that's what you want."

Fraser came from around the curtain, his face serious. "Ray?"

"What?"

"Does talking about your father still bother you that much?"

Ray shrugged and changed the subject. "So, you finished?"

"Yes, I believe so. Would you like me to present them to you all at once or should we alternate?"

"Well, actually, I kind of jumped the gun." Ray motioned with his head towards their tree.

Puzzled, Fraser moved closer to see the result of Ray's efforts and then laughed out loud. "Dear God, you're quite obsessed."

"And inspired."

"By what? Candid camera?"

"Hey, you have your play pretties and I have mine." Ray got up and walked with Fraser to the tree, pleased by his lover's wide smile. He touched one of his favorite pictures of Fraser leaning down to get the biscuits out of the oven. "I always thought you were well hung."

"All over the tree apparently. Ray, this is too much." But he spoke with a grin and a quiet hush as he saw shots of himself in various poses used as decorations. At the very top, Ray had made a cone of construction paper and glued a picture of Fraser standing in the snow. He stood staring straight into the camera, smiling and happy as he tipped his hat smugly at Ray. A gold star, much like an sheriff's badge, covered his Stetson.

Ray kissed his cheek. "See, we got an angel and a star."

Fraser captured his face with both hands and kissed him completely and thoroughly before pulling back. "You're unhinged."

"Yep, about you. So, what have you got to show for all your time behind the blanket, Mr. Mountie?"

"Nothing as creative as this."

"Well, don't just stand there, show me."

Quickly, Fraser retrieved a box of wooden ornaments, each one carved out of local wood. One by one, he pulled them out, naming them as he went as if Ray couldn't tell what they were. "Diefenbaker, Turtle, your GTO, my Stetson, your boots, boxing gloves, a bag of M&Ms, a pineapple pizza, an eagle, a fox, a caribou, a moose, a wolf, and a dream catcher."

Amazed, Ray picked up each of the figures, all about three to five inches tall, each one carved with such detail that he couldn't imagine how Fraser could have done them all so quickly. "My God, Fraser, these are great. This looks just like Dief and Turtle and all the rest are cool, too. Oh, man, I didn't know you could do stuff like this. I mean, yeah, I saw that statute you gave Frannie last year, but these, these are just way better, more personal."

"Thank you kindly, Ray. Each one represents something special for each of us."

"Yeah, yeah, I can see that."

"And there's one more."

Ray lifted his head from studying the group of figures and saw the last ornament in his partner's hand. "Jesus, Fraser, that's me."

"I tried for a close likeness."

"Spiky hair and all."

Reaching out, Ray took the carving and blinked several times to clear his vision. "This is too much, Fraser. Is this how you see me, like an angel?"

"You're no angel, Ray, but then neither am I."

"But you look better with the star."

"But you're the one who likes to be on top."

Ray snorted loudly and then handed the ornament back to Fraser. "You do the honors."

"I'd be happy to, Ray."

Taking his own picture down from the top of the tree and moving it to a slightly lower branch, Fraser put Ray's wooden image at the very top. He stepped back, smiling as he wrapped his arm around Ray's waist. "Excellent."

"Yeah, it is. Thanks. But you did forget one."

Fraser turned and looked curious. "Which one?"

"I want one of you."

Flushing, Fraser nodded. "I'll make one first thing tomorrow morning."

"Not tonight?"

Grinning, Fraser reached for the ornaments. "No, tonight we'll finish trimming the tree and then I think we need to discuss your obsession with Mounties."

"Not Mounties. One Mountie. And, yeah, I think that's a great idea. Hand me Turtle and you hang Dief. Then you can show me some real Canadian wood."

"Fraser, there's no need to buy such a big turkey. There's just no way we can eat it all before we leave."

"Perhaps just the breast then?"

"What about drumsticks?"

"Ah, well, then we'll try for a full bird, but of lesser size."

Ray picked up the smallest one in the case and put it in the basket. "This one's still bigger than we need, but I don't think we'll do much better. And we don't have to thaw it."

"Excellent choice, Ray. Now, what about dressing?"

"What about it?"

"Do you prefer a traditional sage recipe or one with oysters?"

"Oysters?" Ray shook his head, disgusted with the thought of slimy things showing up for Christmas Eve dinner. "No sluggy stuff."

"Sluggy stuff? Ray, oysters and slugs are both mollusks, true, but when prepared properly, oysters can be quite the delicacy."

"Then fix a batch, but you'd better not kiss me with slug on your breath."

Fraser blushed and smiled sweetly. "Understood. Sage dressing it is." As they moved to the fresh vegetable aisle, Fraser picked up some celery and then an onion, sniffing each for freshness.

Ray closed his eyes briefly, his stomach knotted and his head pounding. Christmas meals took a hell of lot of work, a lot more than he cared about doing. Hell, he didn't give a shit one way or the other as long as he had fresh coffee. Rubbing his temple with his right hand, Ray complained, "Fraser, how much more stuff do we need? We're only two people. It's not like we're cooking for the entire 2-7. And you know I can't eat this much. Nobody eats this much."

Fraser put the items in the cart and studied him, his face concerned. "You have a headache."

"Yeah, so? That doesn't answer the question. We don't need all this food. I think you're overdoing it. I mean, I know you want everything to be nice, and I appreciate that, I do, and you're a great cook. I just think it's a lot of trouble. We could eat at the cafe tomorrow and we're going to Mimi's for Christmas day. We could just skip all this."

"I'd really like to try preparing something special just for us."

"Okay, sure, I get that."

"There are only a few more things to procure and then we can go home."

"Yeah, okay."

"Would you like something for your headache?"

"No, I'm all right. Just tired. Don't mean to be that Abracadabra guy."

"Abracadabra?"

"Yeah, the Christmas grouch, that Scrooge guy."

"You mean Ebenezer?"

"Yeah, him. I just don't feel that great."

"Not particularly surprising. You haven't been sleeping."

"Can't help that."

Fraser picked up a carton of eggs, butter, and some milk. "I wasn't suggesting that you were deliberating inducing insomnia, Ray. I'm just concerned. The problem seems to be getting worse."

"I know." Ray didn't elaborate, didn't add that every time he closed his eyes more than a few minutes, he ended up cut up and bleeding all over the place. The shit just wouldn't give up, just kept coming at him out of nowhere every time he dozed off.

"Is it the nightmares?"

"Pretty much. Look, I figure I get tired enough, I'll drop off eventually. That's how this kind of thing usually works."

"Usually works? I know you mentioned bouts of insomnia previously, but are they always this extreme?"

"No. Yes. Sometimes. Just depends."

"On?"

"On how bad the dreams get." Ray rubbed his face with one hand, his face whiskered from being too unsteady to shave and his skin too raw from the cold. "Right now, they're bad. The good thing is I'm getting a lot of drawing done."

"But not much resting, which is one of our primary aims." Fraser put some sugar, flour, and powdered cocoa in the basket. "Perhaps I'll give you a massage tonight and we'll work on some relaxation exercises."

"We both know what would help."

"We discussed that. It's not a good idea."

"Just a few drinks, not even a whole lot, two or three, tops. I'm not taking antibiotics or any of that other shit anymore, so it won't interfere. It'll just relax me a little bit. Besides, it's not like I'd be drinking to get drunk, just enough to get some sleep, just like medicine."

"I can't stop you from drinking, Ray, but you know my concerns about using alcohol, especially with your history."

Ray frowned, not happy, but not angry, either. He already knew where Fraser stood about the whole business of mixing booze and Kowalski. Didn't make him feel any better about it, but he understood why Fraser didn't trust him to stop. The guy had good reason for thinking he couldn't handle it. Hell, he knew he couldn't handle it that great, too, but he needed something, something to dull the edges at night so he didn't end up screaming and punching out the wall of the cabin. Maybe he was a drunk, but there were worse things. At least he wasn't popping pills like candy anymore. At least that was over.

"Yeah, Fraser, you've made your position clear enough."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Are you planning on drinking?"

"I guess not."

"Thank you."

"It's okay. I know it bothers you, that whole slippery slope thing. I get that, I do. I just get really tired and I know it'll help. It always has."

"But never for long and it doesn't address the real problem."

"Yeah, well, the real problem is dead, but I'm still not sleeping."

Fraser started to speak, but stopped, shaking his head slightly. "Let's discuss this later."

"Discuss what later?"

Fraser ignored the question and picked up a fruit cake, studying it with that intense Fraser focus. "Ray Vecchio used to make a joke about there being only one real fruit cake in the world. Apparently, in his anecdote it just gets passed from person to person, but I never really understood the jest."

"That's because it's a weak joke and you're not answering the question. What is it we'll discuss later, my drinking?"

Fraser put the fruitcake back down and started down the aisle again with Ray right beside him. "I was referring to your problem."

"My problem?"

Fraser took a deep breath and spoke softly. "Ray, this really isn't the place to have this conversation."

Suddenly angry, Ray's voice got louder. "What, you think I'm going to cause a scene?"

"Ray, please. Let's finish this and then go home. We'll talk about it there."

"I don't feel like talking about it there or here or anywhere." Ray picked up the bag of sugar from the cart and then threw it down again, the noise loud and jarring. "Damn it, Fraser, you piss me off when you do this."

"Do what?"

"Start something and then stop."

Fraser's voice remained calm, but his eyes narrowed. "I was just going to say that your problem isn't dead because the problem isn't Clooney. It's what he did. You still haven't dealt with any of those issues. Not sleeping and wanting to drink again, those are just symptoms of a much larger problem, one that still exists."

Ray didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out and got a small jar of chocolate sprinkles. "I want these on the cookies you're baking."

"Ray..."

"I know, Fraser, I know. I need to talk about it, but not here. I'm sorry. I'm a dickhead, so sue me."

Fraser took the sprinkles from Ray's hand and put them in the cart. "Sprinkles?"

"Don't tell me you've never had sprinkles, either."

"Once, but they were multi-colored."

"Then you've never had good sprinkles. Chocolate ones are the best."

Fraser's expression softened as he nodded and pushed the basket towards the checkout register. "Let's finish up and go home. Maybe I'll make the cookies tonight instead of tomorrow."

"Sounds good."

"And you can talk while I bake."

Ray glanced sideways at his partner and shrugged, knowing Fraser deserved the truth, but dreading it more than going back to Chicago. "Yeah, maybe."

"Just how many cookies are you supposed to be making here, Fraser?"

"The recipe makes four dozen, but I doubled it."

"Doubled it? Do the math, buddy. That's a hell of a lot of cookies and there's no Dief in sight."

Fraser worked the fire in the stove and grinned. "It's customary to take food to the house of the person who feeds you, Ray."

"Oh, I get it. You're making extra for Mimi." Ray shook his head, looking at the tray already loaded with a batch of chocolate cookies and then the big bowl still almost full. "You ever try to bake cookies in a wood burner, Frase?"

"On occasion."

"Because to hear my Nana tell it, it's not the same as cooking in a regular oven."

"Nana?"

"My grandmother on my dad's side. She baked in one back in Poland. She used to go on and on about how much easier it was to cook in America."

"She's quite correct. It is less difficult to bake in an oven with a thermostat, but it's not particularly hard to cook in a wood stove once you get used to estimating the temperature produced by a certain amount of fuel. You just have to be more diligent about checking the cookies so they don't burn."

"So, you're pretty much stuck on oven duty all day then."

"Not all day, no. A few hours perhaps." Fraser put the first tray in the oven and then started on loading up the second. "I don't believe you've ever mentioned your grandmother before. Tell me about her."

"Nana?" Ray sat down and put his aching leg up on the stool by the table, leaning back in the chair. "I haven't thought about her in a long time. She was a cantankerous old biddy. Used to pinch my cheeks when there were hardly any cheeks to pinch. She died when I was seven. It was the first funeral I ever went to. It was the first time I ever saw my dad cry. Kind of scared me."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to bring up a hurtful subject."

"It's okay. I don't mind talking about her, but I remember she used to make my mum crazy though." Ray chuckled to himself. "My mum's a good cook, but my Nana, nothing suited her. Her idea of giving a compliment was like saying Mum's food wouldn't kill you if you ate it."

"Not one for lavish praise then?"

"Not hardly." The smile faded. "Maybe that's why my dad's the way he is. He acts like it'd kill him to say something nice." Ray got up and paced a few times. "Fuck."

"What's wrong?"

"I never really thought about it, but sometimes I'm the same way. It's hard for me to give a compliment."

"That's not really true, Ray."

"Sure it is. When was the last time I said something nice about somebody?"

Fraser continued making the cookies, smiling broadly. "I do believe you complimented my performance during our activities last night."

Ray stopped and nodded, not quite so anxious. "Oh, yeah, and we're not talking about your carving, huh?"

"No, but you seemed to like that skill as well. As for being like your father, you're not. You're very open-minded about many controversial topics and you're very supportive of other people's choices."

"But I'm pig-headed."

"As I've been known to be on occasion." Fraser stopped working for a moment. "You're your own person, Ray."

"When I'm not being Vecchio."

Fraser shrugged and returned to rolling out some of the chocolate dough. "You're doing your job. Even so, you're still you, a very unique individual."

"I'm a pain in the ass. If you weren't in love with me, you'd admit it."

"I am in love with you, that's true."

Ray stepped back to the table, standing across from Fraser, leaning in slightly, almost challenging. "What about the pain in the ass part?"

"We can both be difficult at times, Ray. We've been through arduous experiences."

Ray stood back and crossed his arms. "And here I thought you couldn't dance. Did a tap dance all around that question, Mr. Fred Astaire Fraser."

Fraser stopped and wiped off his hands. "What do you want me to say? You want me to say you're a pain in the ass sometimes?"

"If it's the truth, yeah."

"Then, yes, you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're my pain in the ass." Fraser came around the table, standing in front of Ray, his hands on Ray's hips. "Mine. Not Stella's, not the department's, not your parents', but mine." He leaned in, kissing him, probing deeply before pulling back. "I know I'm not a barrel of fishcakes, either."

"Barrel of fishcakes?"

"I'm just saying, I know I'm not always easy, either." Fraser didn't move away, still held Ray against him as he spoke in a hush. "You put up with my many odd quirks because you love me. After a lifetime of rejection, you have no idea how much that means to me."

Ray relaxed into his arms and sighed. "Same here. Sometimes I hear myself being a prick, but it's like I can't help myself. I just don't want you to think I want you to take a lot of shit from me, Fraser, because I don't. You have to call me on it, because I'll be the first to confess, I'll push if I can get away with it."

"Ray, you'll push even if you can't get away with it. It's just your nature. I don't mind that." Fraser stood straighter and met his gaze, his words choked. "You can push all you want, just don't push me away."

Wrapping his arms around Fraser, Ray rested his head on his shoulder. "I won't. I promise."

"Good enough." Fraser kissed his cheek and then nuzzled his neck a few moments before he lifted his head. "I think the cookies are done."

"How can you tell?"

"Smell."

"You can tell that by smell?"

"There's one way to find out." Fraser released him and stepped to the oven. He opened the door and used two heavy towels to get the baking tray out and put it on a board on the table. Ray stood right behind him. "Add the sprinkles while they're still hot."

"They won't melt?"

"Some, but that's the point. They stick better that way."

"Hand me the container."

Ray gave him the sprinkles and then waited just long enough to get one covered before he took a spatula to serve himself one of the cookies. "Ray, they should cool first."

"Cool yours. I'll eat mine like this." He took a bite and savored the deep, warm spread of chocolate across his tongue. "Perfect."

"Good. Just don't overeat. They'll make you sick."

"Sure, Mom."

Fraser shooed him away as he finished doctoring the cookies. He then spread them on the plate to cool before putting the next batch in the oven. "You know, Ray, I haven't forgotten our earlier discussion. We don't have to talk about what's really keeping you awake, but it might help if you did."

The joy of the cookie faded. "I know. I just don't want to talk about it now. Later, when we get home, maybe, but not now. It's Christmas. I don't want to spoil it."

"Understood. Now, why don't you go sit by the fire and relax? I still have quite a bit more to do."

"You don't need me to help?"

"Not at the moment. Perhaps later."

"Sure, okay." Ray moved to the sofa and stretched out, his whole body complaining and bone-tired. Maybe just a few winks in the daytime wouldn't hurt. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Thanks for the cookie and being such a great barrel of fishcakes."

Fraser chuckled. "You're more than welcome."

Ray knew the dream, knew how it started and how it usually ended. What he didn't know was the rough part, how bad it would hurt this time.

Ricky sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, his face intent as he talked in that pushy way he had. "Clooney's an asshole, but he's a smart son of a bitch. We need to be careful. He's got a thing for you and we should use it."

"Forget about it. It's bad enough he calls me bitch all the time."

"Only as a term of endearment."

"Fuck you, Ricky. This sucks. We need to be careful."

"You need to start working it, Ray. I told you before, he wants you to do shit. I know you're not into that, but it's the job."

"It's not the fucking job, so don't start. I didn't sign on for that shit. You think he's into that, then you do it."

"It's not me he wants. He's made that pretty damn clear."

Ray sat up, angry again, his body tense. "You saying you approached him, made a move and he said no?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what exactly?"

"He let me blow him, but he said he wanted you."

Ray stood up, his head swimming. "You stupid fuck. I can't believe you did that. You blew Clooney? We're on assignment. That could lose us the case."

"How? The guy's a murdering scumbag. You think anybody's going to care about that kind of shit if we bring his ass down?" Ricky got up and moved closer, his hand on Ray's shoulder, his breath warm on his neck. "And I'm telling you, we can get this guy if you'd just relax and play along. He doesn't trust you completely yet. You don't even have to blow him. Give him a hand job. He'll be happy as a fucking clam."

"I can't."

"You can, and then we can get to the info we really need."

Ricky stroked the back of his neck and Ray jerked away. "Cut it out."

"Come on, we're friends. Don't be that way. It's been a long time since Stella. You know you want to."

Ray swallowed hard, his dick bitching and moaning like crazy to go along with the game. "Don't even start that shit, Ricky. I told you before, I'm not into that buddy fuck thing, and even if I were, I don't cheat on my wife. And, oh, yeah, let me repeat, we're on assignment."

"God, Clooney's right. You are a cock teasing bitch." Ricky's voice took on a hard edge as he leaned in, his face sweaty and grim. "You strut in, all dolled up and hot, and then act like you're some fucking virgin."

"Fuck you."

Ricky just laughed and shoved him against the wall, his mouth forced against his, but Ray pushed back harder. "Get the fuck off me. Touch me again, and..."

"And what? You'll tell Clooney who I am? Get my ass killed?"

And then Ray fell back into a cold, deep well, the heat drained away, Ricky's face blasted into red pulp, on the wall, in his eyes, all over the damn place. Pain shattered Ray's mind, tiny shards all in bright pieces littered around the bed. Fists pounded into his body, his arms and legs stretched and strapped down. His back bent, his ass bleeding, Clooney's stench layered his skin, the world nothing but sinking white vapor.

Gasping, Ray dragged enough air into his lungs to scream and jerk awake. "Fuck." And he couldn't stop saying fuck like a damn chant. He shook, his whole body trembling as Fraser held him tight against his saving chest.

"Ray, Ray, it's all right." Hands petted his hair, lips kissed his cheeks, but he stayed crazy, lost in his own head, his own past.

Nothing helped for a while, not even Fraser.

Ray shuddered as memories slammed into place, woke up and hammered home the damage, the hurt and betrayal that he so wanted to forget.

After a while, he stopped crying, but didn't lift his head or pull away. He just let Fraser hold and rock him. Finally, his eyes still squeezed shut, he managed a few choked words. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"It hurts."

"I know."

"You know it's weird."

"What's weird?"

"I'm not dreaming about the last attack. I keep dreaming about Ricky and the first time."

"Why do you suppose that is?"

Ray looked up at Fraser who sat very still beside him. "You sound like a shrink."

"It's an important question, Ray."

"Yeah, maybe." Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, Ray took another deep breath, grateful for the air. "I think I remember something I didn't remember before, but I don't know if it's real or just another bad part of the dream."

"What is it that you think you remember?"

"I think Ricky made a move on me right before he got killed."

"Made a move as in made a sexual advance toward you?"

"Yeah, but I don't remember him like that. He was pissed because I wouldn't sleep with him. In the dream he's telling me to sell myself to Clooney to make the undercover deal smoother. Now, why in the hell would I make something like that up?"

"I'm not sure you did."

Ray sat up, working hard to stay calm. "What?"

"I read the file."

"So? What's that mean, you read the file? What's in the file that would make you think Ricky was gay?"

"I didn't say that. However, in some of the follow up interviews of the case, some of Clooney's men mentioned that your partner did, in fact, have sex with Clooney on a regular basis."

"That doesn't make him gay. It just makes him stupid."

"True, but it was your partner who was killed, not you."

The air got a lot thinner. "He was going to kill me."

"Eventually, but not right away. He wanted you to suffer, to submit. You never did, either time."

"Only because the cops showed up." Ray sagged back against the sofa and closed his eyes. He swallowed several times before he risked using his voice. "Look, I know I'm safe, there's no more bad guy getting ready to jump out of the dark and nab me again, but I keep living it over and over again in my sleep and every time I do, it's like a new chapter gets added. When is it going to end? When can I just sleep like a normal person?"

"I can't answer that. I wish I could, Ray, but I can't."

Putting his right arm over his eyes, Ray blocked out all the light. "I'm so fucking tired, Fraser. I don't think I've ever been this worn-out." The words shook. "I have to do something. I just don't know what."

Fraser's hand settled on his thigh. "Do you trust me, Ray?"

"With my life."

"Then trust me to help. Come to bed. I'll give you massage and we'll try those relaxation exercises."

"Fraser..."

"Just try it. I won't leave you. You can go to sleep focusing on my touch or my scent, something about me that will anchor you enough to pull yourself out of sleep if the dreams become too vivid."

"You've got stuff to do, cookies to bake."

Fraser persisted. "Come to bed, Ray. I can help."

Reluctantly, Ray uncovered his eyes and let Fraser pull him gently to his feet. He walked over to the bed and sat down. Fraser helped him remove his mukluks and clothes before stretching out on his back. A sheet covered him from the waist down as he waited for Fraser to undress and climb in beside him.

"Relax, Ray. I'm not going to hurt you or do anything you're uncomfortable doing."

"I know that. I'm just still wound up and tired."

"Understood." Fraser palmed Ray's heart as he straddled his hips. "I want you to close your eyes and just breathe normally. I'm going to hum and talk a little while I massage your muscles. If you want me to stop at any time, just tell me."

"Sure, okay, okay, that's good."

Ever so slowly, Fraser used his hands to rub and work Ray's shoulders, chest, and arms. The whole time he hummed quietly, first "Greensleeves" and then a lullaby Ray remembered from childhood, "Rock-a-bye Baby". The tension eased, his muscles no longer fighting his bones, his lower back less achy. His splitting headache became a simple, even throb.

"Feels good."

"I'm glad. I want you to focus on the good feeling, Ray, on your body, on my body touching yours. You're safe. When you feel my touch, hear my voice, you can rest easily. Say that over for me."

"You want me to repeat after you?"

"It helps to say it out loud."

"Yeah, I've heard that." His eyes still squeezed shut, Ray let himself drift to the warm touches, the gentle flow of Fraser's hands on his skin. "I'm focusing on feeling good, on you and me, on being safe."

"That's good. Now again."

"Come on, Fraser."

"Ray, five times. It's a target number. It helps your focus."

"Five times?"

"You've done one. Do one at a time."

Feeling silly, but a lot less tense, he said it again, and then again, until he'd said it five times. "Satisfied?"

"How do you feel?"

"Better."

"Excellent. Do you trust me to massage your back?"

Tension returned with a vengeance. "I trust you, Fraser, I do. It's not about trust. I just have a problem with the face down stuff. It's not you, its me, all the way me. I'm fucked up. Please, don't think I don't trust you. I just can't."

"I understand, Ray. Breathe deeply again and relax."

Fraser's hands never stopped working, moving over him, stroking his body tenderly and sweetly. Ray hissed when fingers settled over his nipples and lingered. "Fraser?"

"It's all right. I just want you to relax."

"That's hard to do when you're sitting on my cock and doing that thing with our fingers. I'm not complaining, I just don't know how relaxed I can stay if you keep going where you're going with this."

"You need rest, Ray, not sex." Fraser's hands cupped Ray's face, massaging his temples. The humming started again and Ray drifted along with the tune, his body more than happy to settle down as long as Fraser touched him and loved him, went with him past all the old boundaries. In his mind he imagined Fraser standing guard, touching him, his hand always at his back or his arm around his shoulders.

Sleep met him half way, his hands still fisted, but his faith in Fraser shielding him from the worst of the darkness, the worst fears that ran away like shadows from the sunlight.

Ray woke to the smell of chocolate and coffee along with the hum of Fraser working at the sink. "Fraser?"

"Good morning, Ray. How are you feeling?"

Taking a quick inventory and finding no major complaints beyond a few sluggish muscles and a full bladder, Ray nodded with a smile. "Pretty good. What time is it?"

"It's eleven."

"Eleven? You're kidding. No wonder I feel good. You let me sleep for fourteen hours."

"You needed it."

Not complaining, Ray sat up in the bed, but pulled the comforter up around his naked body. "I can't deny that, but you should've gotten me up. It's Christmas Eve. We've got stuff to do, important stuff."

"We've got plenty of time, Ray. Your rest was more important."

Ray sighed and watched as Fraser diced the vegetables with absolute military precision. "Yeah, well, thanks. Whatever you did worked. I don't remember dreaming at all."

"You dreamed, but you didn't wake."

"How do you know that?"

"You talk in your sleep." Fraser tried to say it casually, his back to Ray, but his tight voice gave him away.

"What'd I say?"

"You were in pain and struggling."

Ray swallowed hard, glad he slept the night away without dealing with any subconscious bullshit. "I don't remember."

"I'm glad. You don't need to remember, not now, not in your sleep." Fraser put the celery in a bowl, cleaned and dried the knife, and came to sit on the edge of the bed. "I think the relaxation exercise was a good one. You responded quite well."

"I still dreamed."

"But you slept, and when I touched you or spoke to you, you seemed to settle, to relax without waking, like you realized you were safe. That's very good after only one exercise."

"It did help, but that's because I trust you."

"And I trust you, Ray." Fraser smiled, leaning in, kissing him briefly. "Now, get dressed. We need to run into town for a few last minute errands."

Ray nodded. "Yeah, Cal should have some stuff for me to pick up, too."

"I'm looking forward to seeing your pictures, Ray."

"You'll see them when I'm done, Mr. Nosy Parker."

Grinning, Fraser got up and headed back to the sink. "Coffee's ready and I've heated some water for washing up."

"I have to go to the can first."

"Then I recommend you hurry. I'm fixing some eggs and biscuits for breakfast and they're almost ready."

Ray smiled. Fraser never gave up when it came to trying to feed him breakfast. "Pitter patter then. Hand me my mukluks."

Still a little stiff, Ray swung his legs over the side of the bed, and got dressed as fast as possible. Heading out the door, Fraser stopped him. "You forgot this." He handed him the toilet paper with a grin.

"Oh, yeah, can't forget the paperwork even in Canada."

"Especially in Canada."

The blast of cold air rocked him, made his eyes water and his skin sting. The worst part was that first shock, that first grab to the balls that reminded him that one false move and it was one cold dead guy on ice. He hurried and wished he had a thick wolf coat like Dief's, wished he could enjoy it like Fraser. The best he could hope for was just getting used to it and to keep from freezing his ass off in the process.

Rushing through his morning call of nature, he came back in the cabin shaking. "Jesus, Fraser, it's colder than shit out there today. What the hell happened?"

"A cold front."

"Hardy har har. I know it's a cold front. Jesus."

"Seriously, Ray, there's supposed to be more snow coming this way. That's why I suggest we get to town and back before it starts."

"This mean we might get snowed in?"

"Perhaps, but I've taken precautions that should prevent that. Still, we might be having leftover turkey instead of Mimi's feast tomorrow."

Ray shrugged off his coat and hung it up with his hat. He stomped the snow off his mukluks, before rushing through a quick run at morning hygiene. By the time he sat down, a bit cleaner and his hair spiked up, Fraser handed him a mug of hot coffee. He sniffed and knew right away that it already had chocolate. He sighed with contentment. "Well, we've got plenty of wood and food. We get snowed in, we won't freeze or starve to death."

"Very true, though that was never a real danger."

"It's always a real danger, Fraser. This place is gorgeous, but it's like a pit bull. It'll eat your ass off if you let it. The point is, we ain't letting it."

"Point taken."

Fraser served the eggs and then put a bowl of gravy and some biscuits on the table before sitting down across from Ray. He ate with an appetite that always amazed Ray. If he ever stopped walking everywhere and burning off all those calories, he'd plump up in a hurry. The idea of a chubby Fraser made him smile, because he just couldn't see it, not really, not Fraser, not Mr. Fit as a Fiddle. "Hungry?"

"Very much so. You should eat before it gets cold. There's butter and marmalade for the biscuits if you don't like gravy."

"No, gravy's fine." And it was, rich and thick and just the way his mum made it. "This is good."

Fraser's smile filled the whole room. "I'm glad you like it. It's not difficult to make."

"Yeah, a couple of biscuits and this stuff and I'm good to go." Ray held up his mug. "Well, at least after more coffee."

Fraser got up before he could manage to stand and returned with the pot. He handed Ray his candies and then sat down after warming his tea. They both sat quietly for a few moments before Fraser broke the silence. "This is very nice, Ray."

"Cozy."

"Yes, cozy."

"Feels right."

Fraser met his eyes, his face serious. "Yes, exactly."

"I know the feeling, and I like it. I like us being together like this."

"Like a couple."

Ray nodded, not the least bit afraid of the weight of that word. He'd been part of a couple before and failed, but not this time, not with Fraser. "Yeah, a couple."

"I've never done this before, not really."

"I know, but for a novice, you're pretty damn good at it. You sweep me off my feet and keep me happy, which anybody will tell you, ain't easy."

"You make me happy as well, Ray, very happy." Fraser hesitated, his voice a little shaky. "I must confess, however, to a certain level of trepidation."

"Trepiwhat?"

"Apprehension. I worry that you'll grow tired of me, that I won't be able to satisfy your needs."

Frowning, Ray leaned forward against the table. "Where's this coming from, this trepiwhatever? Because it's not coming from anything I said."

"I'm sure it's my own insecurities rising to the surface. When things go well for me, that often happens."

"Fraser, look at me."

Reluctantly, Fraser raised his head and met his gaze. "Yes?"

"You're it for me, forever, no do overs, no calling it quits, at least not for me. If you're having second thoughts, fuck, just don't tell me. I don't know if I could handle it."

"No, no second thoughts, Ray, not ever, not about my love for you. I just worry."

"Crazy Mountie. Scare me before we even finish the dishes." More calm, Ray stood up and walked around the table, draping his arms around Fraser's neck. He kissed him on his cheek and then rested his head against his shoulder. "Stop worrying. It'll be greatness like the world's never seen before. We're good to go here."

Turning in his seat, Fraser took his face in both hands and kissed him, sweetly and slowly, like he never wanted to stop. Ray could second that opinion and his dick wanted a vote, too. Reluctantly, he pulled back. "Fraser, we need to go to town first. We can do this when we get back."

Fraser smiled, all innocent, like his gorgeous blue eyes didn't twinkle with mischief. "Do what, Ray?"

"Kiss our way through Christmas."

"Is that a Polish tradition?"

"It's going to be our tradition. Got any objections?"

Chuckling as he stood to clear the dishes, Fraser shook his head. "None whatsoever, Ray."

"Then what's so funny?"

"I was just thinking of all the other new Fraser/Kowalski traditions we might engage in tonight."

"Fraser/Kowalski? What's wrong with Kowalski/Fraser?"

"Not at thing. I like the sound of that even better."

"Me, too." Ray brought the last plate to the sink and added, "So, what kind of Kowalski/Fraser traditions did you have in mind? Something undercover, maybe?"

"I was thinking something along the lines of making love until we both dropped from exhaustion."

Nodding slowly, trying to keep his composure, Ray made his voice sound almost normal. "I can go with that. Anything else?"

"Presents, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. What else?"

Fraser's voice sounded hopeful. "More love making?"

While Fraser washed the dishes, both hands in hot water, Ray nuzzled his neck. "I like these traditions. Oh, yeah, I like these traditions a lot. You got any particular special thing you'd like to do while we're making all this love?"

Fraser stopped moving, his voice a whisper. "Every time with you is special, Ray."

"Sap."

"Romantic."

"Sap."

"Love you."

"Super sap. Same to ya."

"So, who's the guy in the drawing?"

"That's Fraser's dad, Robert."

"I remember him. He was pretty famous. How come he's not in uniform?"

Ray studied the drawing of Ray's father and shook his head. "Don't know. Guess I never saw him in full uniform, not like the one Fraser wears. He's always got on a heavy coat and that funny looking hat."

"You mean like the one you're wearing?"

"Yeah."

Cal frowned as if putting two and two together and getting five. "I thought Constable Fraser's father died a few years ago."

"He did."

"You knew his father before Fraser went to Chicago?"

"Not exactly."

"So, you've seen pictures of him then?"

Pretty sure Cal wouldn't believe the truth, Ray lied. "Yeah, a few. I just thought Fraser might like something like this and I didn't have any photos handy. You did a great job on the framing." Ray motioned to the other packages. "Hell, you did great on everything."

"Thanks. Yeah, I'm sure Fraser will like the drawing. I mean, he doesn't talk about family much, but you get a feeling about people. I think he's very traditional about families and such."

"Yeah, he is kind of, though his definition of family isn't always that traditional."

"To my way of thinking, that's not always a bad thing."

Ray didn't have to look up to catch Cal's real meaning. The guy knew about him and Fraser and didn't care, didn't have a problem. That worked for Ray. "So, how much do I owe you?"

"Like I said before, it's a trade off."

"No way, Cal. That's too much. I thought you were just talking about the last batch of shots. I've got development and framing here."

"Yeah, but you didn't say how you liked the poster in the window. Lots of people have already come by and asked about it. It's great for business."

Proud, Ray looked at his own work, his eagle on display in Cal's shop window, the name of the store across the bottom. "Yeah, it looks good. It's hard to keep that much clarity when you blow something up that big."

"People want to know who took it, what kind of camera and film you used. Like I said it's good for business, so don't worry about what you owe me. I'm getting the better end of the deal."

"I don't see how. At least let me pay for materials."

Reluctantly, Cal agreed. "Okay, but on one condition."

"What's that?"

"Let me make copies of the elk shots you had in this last batch. My sister collects those."

"Sure, okay, that's cool. So, how much?"

Cal gave him a ridiculously small amount, but Ray didn't want to argue anymore. He paid him in funny looking Canadian bills. "I need you to wrap those frames up in thick brown paper, Cal. Fraser's got an eye like an eagle. I need a bag, too, so I can carry it all to the car one-handed."

"Sure, it'll only take a minute. Where's Fraser anyway?"

"I told him he had to go to the Trading Center and pick up some stuff for our boss and a friend back in Chicago. Chance are, if we hurry, I might catch him before he buys something disastrous."

"No taste?"

"Sure, for a Canadian who runs with a wolf."

"Enough said." Cal pointed a finger at him like he got the point and then quickly wrapped the pictures he'd framed of Ray's drawings. He put them in a shopping bag with a handle.

"Here." Cal walked him to the door. "Looks like you guys better hurry. It's starting to snow pretty heavy. You don't want to get stuck on the road going back to your place."

"We'll be fine. Thanks. We've only got a few things to do and then we're settled in for the night. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, Ray, and welcome to Canada. I hope you come to your senses and you and Fraser make the move permanent soon."

"You never know, Cal. You never know."

Out the door, the snow heavy wind blasted his face. He hurried to the car, dropped off the bag, and then headed quickly to the Trading Center. Walking in, he found Fraser standing there holding up a leather belt and a wallet, looking lost. "Hey, you thinking about those for Frannie or Welsh?"

Smiling, obviously glad to see him, Fraser held out the belt. "I prefer this, but the wallet is also nicely made. Both are hand-tooled moose hide."

"Let's go for the wallet. That way if he doesn't like it, we can just pretend he's carrying it around instead of that ratty old thing he does have."

"That's very clever, Ray. That makes the decision much easier." Fraser put the belt back on the rack and then turned to Ray. "I still can't decide about Frannie's gift. There are some lovely hats here, but I'm afraid she has hat issues."

"Hat issues?"

"Apparently, she thinks the shape of her head doesn't lend itself to wearing hats."

"No hats then. What about that scarf? We could get it in green or yellow. She likes yellow."

"True, but I think the dark green would complement her naturally dark coloring."

Ray selected the pine green wool scarf and placed it next to the wallet on the counter, noting another stack of goods already wrapped in brown paper. "What all this?"

"Never you mind." Grinning, Ray reached out only to have his hand smacked lightly. "Don't touch. You'll spoil the surprises."

"Surprises, huh? More mukluks?"

"No mukluks, Ray, but I'm hoping you like these gifts just as much as you apparently liked those."

"If you picked them out, then it's all good." Trying to draw his attention away from his gifts, he walked over to the glass case. "What about these, Fraser? You think Huey and Dewey might like something like that with the picture on it?"

"That's scrimshaw. I believe those are made from walrus tusk."

"Walrus tusk, like for real, the tusk of a walrus?"

"I believe so, yes. Sometimes they use the bones of walrus and other animals as well."

"They're nice though. Look at that one with the fox on it. It's so detailed."

"It's beautifully done, but I don't think it's right for Huey or Dewey."

"Hell, no, not with those prices. We'll get'em a mug or a cap at the airport when we leave, something that says Canada. It'll show we were thinking about them, but we're not crazy."

"Quite right." Fraser reached over and got down a couple of caps, one with a moose and the other with a seal. "What about these?"

"As long as it's not a moose and squirrel, then we're cool."

"A moose and squirrel?"

"Rocky and Bullwinkle."

"Excuse me?"

Ray laughed and shook his head. "I forget you never watched cartoons growing up."

"Rocky and Bullwinkle are animated characters?"

"Yeah, Rocky's the squirrel, the brainy one, and Bullwinkle's this goofy moose."

"Was he supposed to be a Canadian moose?"

"Couldn't say, but I doubt it. Sounded like Freddy Glowacki in sixth grade when he first got his braces. Anyway, let's get this stuff paid for and get back. It's really starting to come down hard outside."

"And there's a turkey to cook."

"And traditions to uphold."

"Right you are."

Fraser smiled broadly, paid the bill, and hustled him out to the car before he could even complain about not putting in his share for the gifts. Once he fastened his seat belt, Fraser started the engine. "Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there any other place you'd like to go? The stores are closing and none of the shops are open on Christmas day."

"No, I'm good. Let's get home, put the turkey in, and get down to tradition."

Ray laughed out loud as Fraser gunned the engine and leered hungrily in his direction. Turkey wouldn't be the only thing getting stuffed for Christmas.

The rich aroma of turkey and dressing filled the small cabin as Fraser nuzzled his face against the side of Ray's neck. "I should get up."

"I think you did that a few times already."

Fraser's smile tickled his skin. "I'm not the only one."

"No, you weren't, and thank you kindly."

"My pleasure."

"Mine, too." Ray closed his eyes, relaxed and holding Fraser tightly against his chest. He kissed the top of the sweat damp curls. "Let the bird cook a little longer."

"We don't want burnt turkey, Ray. Besides, I think I might need to recharge a little before we go at this again."

"Giving up on the Kowalski/Fraser fuck `til you drop tradition already?"

"Not at all. Just taking a needed break." Fraser pulled away, but not completely, covering Ray's lips with his own, fucking his mouth several times with his tongue. As he eased away, he whispered, "Stay put. I'll get cleaned up and put some more logs on the fire. The meal should be ready in less than an hour."

"I don't think I could move if I had to."

"Good. I'll fix the food and you can nap a little."

Ray sighed, feeling suddenly guilty for letting his partner do all the work. "I really should get up and help."

"You help by getting rested." Fraser kissed him again and grinned. "I have plans for later and you'll need your strength."

"Pot belly and all?"

"Pot belly?"

"Well, if I eat all this food you're fixing, probably."

Fraser shook his head and stood up, his naked body an erotic sight in the low light, smooth skin, hard muscles, a thick cock any man would die for. Fraser reached over and pulled on his red long johns. "You'd have to eat a lot more than this before you'd ever have a pot belly, Ray. Sometimes I worry about your self-image."

Ray laughed. "I'll ignore that and go straight to the real question. Will you love me when I get old and paunchy?"

Fraser sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on his boots. "You don't have the build for paunchy, but if you did, I most certainly would."

"What about bald? Would you do bald?"

Turning, Fraser studied him with amusement. "Ray, I'll love you no matter what. Now, take a nap while I fix dinner."

"I'm tired, but not that kind of tired."

"Then just lie there and watch."

"Watch?"

"Yes, I like it when you watch." Fraser blushed slightly. "Sometimes you were watching me at the station when you thought I didn't know."

"You knew that?"

"Yes. I found it quite, arousing."

"You did, huh?" Ray teased his finger along Fraser's thigh. "Maybe later you can show me just how turned on you get when you know how much I like watching you."

Fraser gave an involuntary shudder, his eyes closed, his breath a little faster. "Ray, I have to fix dinner."

Ray grinned and leaned back, his arms up and his hands behind his head. "Sure, go on, but keep the rest of your clothes off. Just wear the long johns. And drop the back seat."

"What?"

"You heard me. Drop that back door so I can get a good look at your ass while you're slaving in the kitchen."

Suddenly bright red, Fraser stood up. "I could prepare the meal sans clothing."

"You mean, buck naked, nothing on but your birthday suit?"

Fraser nodded shyly. "If it pleases you, yes."

Still smiling, Ray considered the offer with relish. "What about you? Is that what you want, to have me check you out while you're cooking?"

Wetting his lower lip, still keeping his eyes on Ray, Fraser nodded.

"Then, by all means, strip down and go for it. I just didn't want you to freeze or I would've suggested it in the first place."

"The temperature is well above freezing, Ray."

"And getting hotter."

Swallowing hard, Fraser took off his boots and then his long johns. He put his boots back on, and stood there, his cock already half hard again. Ray couldn't take his eyes off his lover, watched how his muscles moved under that creamy skin, saw every twitch, enjoyed how Fraser didn't mind him staring at his gorgeous form.

His own cock hardened at the view of Fraser moving around the stove and sink, bending over to take out the turkey, his legs bent slightly, his thighs parted. God, Fraser had an ass from Heaven, so perfect, so fuckable. Reaching under the covers, Ray stroked himself, the warm pleasure of touch and sight melting into one glorious glow in his head. He'd come twice already, so the steady pull to full arousal took time, felt sweet, made him warm and tingly all over. He bit his lower lip to keep from moaning as he kept track of Fraser's fingers, his hands, his arms as he moved skillfully to pull the meal together.

Fraser glanced over and smiled, his face warm and appreciative. He didn't speak, but kept working, his eyes darting over, checking Ray's progress.

Balls tighter, his back arching up, Ray fucked his hand harder, never closing his eyes, his mind filled with nothing but Fraser, nothing but the wonder of the view and knowing Fraser wanted him, needed him, never wanted to hide anything from him. Fraser dropped a serving spoon on the floor and bent over, his ass fully exposed. Ray came suddenly, his whole body twisting at the mercy of coming, the power of the pleasure that ruled every bone, every muscle, every cell of his body. He groaned and begged as he reached out. "C'mere."

Fraser settled on the bed, his hands cupping both sides of Ray's face as he bent down to kiss him. Ray swam with the buzz of contact, of having Fraser pull the covers back and stretch over him, weighing him down, his cock rubbing against Ray's belly, the touch hot and deliciously needy.

It took only a few thrusts before Fraser shook with his own release, his breath in short pants, his whole body jerking and then relaxing. "Dear God."

Ray didn't say a word, just lay covered by his lover, drinking in the heat, enjoying the wonder of Fraser's dick lined up with his own, both cocks smug and happy. After a few moments, Fraser lifted his head, his voice still breathy and raw. "Merry Christmas, Ray. Dinner's ready."

Closing his eyes and smiling, Ray whispered, "You gotta love those Canadian appetizers."

"If Dief were here, he'd pop."

"No doubt, and we'd have fewer leftovers."

Ray stretched out on the sofa in front of the fire, almost too full to move. "I said it before, but I'll say it again, you're one hell of a cook, Benton Fraser."

"Thank you, Ray. I must admit that I enjoyed cooking something special for our first Christmas together as a couple."

Ray shifted, resting his feet in Fraser's lap as he studied his partner. "I never knew you were such a romantic."

"I've never had much opportunity to show it." Fraser's expression darkened slightly. "And when I did, well, let's say the results were unfortunate."

"Assholes."

"Perhaps."

"No perhaps about it, Fraser." A long silence passed before Ray added, "Let's not talk about that stuff right now. I want to focus on just us."

"Right you are, Ray." Fraser patted his feet and smiled. "Should we open our presents now or wait until Christmas morning?"

"I vote for now. You know me and waiting."

"Indeed, I do."

Fraser moved Ray's feet off his lap and then got up to fetch the presents from under the tree marked with Ray's name while Ray did the same for Fraser. They sat on opposite ends of the sofa.

Ray held out a square package, the brown paper decorated with hand drawn trees and stars, tied with simple twine formed into a bow. "I didn't get a chance to shop, so I had to sort of wing it."

Fraser took the package, holding it like treasure. "Thank you."

"Open it."

Carefully, Fraser took off the twine and removed the paper without tearing it. He held up a frame, his eyes intent on the image. "Dear God, Ray. You drew this?"

"Yeah. It's not like I could take a picture of the old coot."

Swallowing hard, his eyes suddenly bright, Fraser blinked away tears. "It's very much like him, like the last time I saw him alive before he was killed."

Ray leaned forward in concern, not sure of his friend's reaction. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, no, I'm not upset. It's just...I'm moved." Fraser shifted closer and wrapped Ray into a hug, his arms tight as he whispered, "Thank you, Ray. I'll cherish it always."

"I just thought it'd be good, you know, to have something other than those official pictures you've got. No offense, but they look like mug shots."

Fraser snorted into his neck and sat back. "Yes, they do." Reaching over, he handed a gift to Ray. "I don't have the same talents you have, so I resorted to shopping."

Ray held up the small package and shook it. He got a small, heavy rattle. "What is it?"

"Open it and find out."

Ripping off the red paper, Ray opened the box and stared. "Oh, my God, it's that seesaw stuff."

"Scrimshaw."

Ray took the pocketknife out of the box and held it in his hand. "It's beautiful." He held it closer, examining the artistry with awe. "Jesus, it's a wolf. Look at the detail on this. It must have taken ages, not to mention a hell of a pair of good eyes."

"The artist, James Richards, is local and he takes several months for each project. I contacted him last spring about making something with a wolf. He suggested a pocketknife."

Looking up, he met Fraser's eyes. "You ordered this for me last spring?"

"Yes."

"Before we were together?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't even know I'd still be around. Vecchio could've been back. I could've been history, in the wind, poof, gone, no return address."

Fraser shook his head with a sigh and reached out to finger Ray's hair with affection. "Ray, Ray, Ray, it wouldn't have mattered when or if Ray came back. I intended to remain your friend regardless. Why do you have so much trouble believing that?"

Still holding the knife, relaxing with each touch, Ray shrugged. "I don't know, but this is a hell of a present for just a friend."

"You've always been more than just a friend, Ray, even when you didn't know it."

Ray traced the intricate design of the wolf standing at the forest's edge with his fingers, not looking up, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting that. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Now I feel bad about what I got you. It's nowhere near as neat at this."

Fraser kissed his temple, his lips warm and soft against Ray's skin, his breath like a whisper. "I love your gift, Ray. I love you."

Ray turned and buried his face against Fraser's chest and closed his eyes, his face burning. "I don't deserve you."

Fraser held him, his voice low. "You deserve more, Ray, much more. You have all of me, but I don't know if that's enough."

"Fuck, Fraser, don't say that, don't fucking say that."

"Why not? Why can't I say it if you say things like you don't deserve to be happy or to have a good life? Why can't I say things that make you just as angry as that kind of ludicrous comment makes me?"

"Tit for tat, huh?"

"Something like that, yes."

Ray took a long calming breath, his chest tight, his head suddenly pounding. "I just get scared, scared that I'm going to wake up and all this storybook stuff will all be gone, that you'll be gone, that I'll be stuck somewhere I can't live, somewhere I can't breathe. I just get scared, that's all, scared that it's not real."

Squeezing gently, Fraser kissed the top of his head. "This is all real, Ray, as real as it gets."

"You don't ever doubt it?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"Not even a little." Fraser hesitated before he added, "I do get scared about other things."

"What things?"

"About what we discussed before, about how you might grow tired of me. I think that frightens me more than I care to admit."

"If anyone gets tired, it'll be you, Fraser. I mean, I don't know how you put up with me half the time anyway. I'm not exactly the easiest guy on the planet and with all that's happened, well, like I said, I don't now why you keep hanging around. I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

Fraser leaned his chin on the top of Ray's head, his voice almost dreamy. "It's very strange that you should think that, because I have absolutely no trouble loving you. In fact, without you, my life would be quite empty. Sometimes just thinking about you makes me breathless."

"You're unhinged."

"Possibly, but not about loving you."

Ray stayed quiet a bit longer, his heart slowing down, the panic just a bit less spiky under his skin. After a few moments, he lifted his head. "Sorry to be such a wet blanket. This is supposed to be Christmas. Want another present?"

"You're all the present I need."

"Well, you're getting something else anyway." Ray gave him another square package, this one wrapped in the same brown paper, but decorated with sketches of dogsleds and glaciers.

Again Fraser took time and care not to ruin the paper. His eyes widened at the framed sketch and he stared up at Ray. "How did you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Draw this picture. It's exactly the view outside my father's cabin."

"You like it?"

"Of course, I like it. It's beautiful. I just don't know how you did it when you've never been there."

Ray ran a hand through his hair and swallowed hard. "I saw it in that dream I had, that one where I told you your father took me all around Canada. He showed me the place. Told me some day you'd bring me there."

"He said that?"

"Yeah."

"But that was over a month ago." Fraser glanced down at the colored sketch and then back at Ray. "How could you possibly remember this kind of detail."

"I don't know. I just do. I remember all my dreams like that."

Fraser's smile vanished. "Even your nightmares?"

"Especially my nightmares. I see pictures in my head all the time, good and bad. It's all right there, every smudge, every speck."

"Dear God, no wonder you have trouble sleeping."

"Seeing the cabin was nice though. Your dad's cabin isn't much, but the land, Fraser, the land is something else. In the summer, when I'm better, when we can take some time off, I want to come back and see it for real."

"We will. We'll stay long enough to bring Diefenbaker as well."

"Good, I'd like that. I've been thinking about it a lot, and I like the idea of us going off together."

Fraser took one more look at his drawing and smiled before he kissed Ray's cheek and hugged him again. "You've got a remarkable gift, Ray. I always knew you could draw, but not like this."

"It's just drawing, Fraser."

"It's more than that. It's art, very impressive art at that."

"Yeah, well, that and a dollar will get you some coffee." Ray grinned when he spoke and then turned. "I'm glad you like it though. I was worried. I didn't know how you'd react to me drawing something I only saw in a dream, and to be honest, I wasn't sure if you'd even recognize it."

"It's exactly like I remember."

"Good thing I'm not easily spooked."

"If that were the case, you'd have shot my father's ghost first chance you got."

"True."

Fraser kissed him again and then held out a small box, one even smaller than before. "I wanted to save this for last."

Ray took it, his hands suddenly unsteady. He unwrapped the red paper and recognized a jewelry box. "I know you didn't get me an earring."

"No, no earring."

Taking a deep breath, Ray opened the box as he held his breath. He lifted the gold band from the case, his heart racing. "Fraser?"

"I know we can't officially do anything right now, but I wanted you to have this as a token of my commitment. I want you to marry me, Ray."

"Seriously, no kidding around?"

"Seriously, no kidding around."

Ray bit his lower lip and nodded, holding the ring out to Fraser. "Do the honors." Without hesitation, Fraser slipped the ring on the third finger of Ray's healthy right hand. "Perfect. Well, it will be when I can wear it on my left where it belongs. I wish I had one for you."

Fraser grinned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a matching ring and put it on his own finger before taking Ray's hand. "You've made me very happy, Ray."

"You know we can't wear these when we get home, at least not out in the open."

"I know. Perhaps, we can wear them on a chain."

"You mean go against regulations to the Mountie uniform?"

"I'll wear it proudly as soon as we can be open about our relationship."

"You mean when Vecchio gets back?"

"If you agree, yes."

Ray nodded, leaning in and capturing Fraser's mouth with his own. Pulling back, he whispered, "Merry Christmas, Fraser."

"Merry Christmas to you, Ray. Let's add another log to the fire and go to bed."

"Two logs and I'm there."

Ray woke, warm and cozy, not wanting to move from Fraser's embrace. He slept peacefully all night, not a bad dream in sight. Grateful, he sighed and snuggled in closer. Fraser stirred as he whispered sleepily, "Good morning, Ray. It's Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Fraser."

"Merry Christmas, Ray." Fraser hugged him, but kept his eyes closed, his breathing still slow and steady.

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"You sleeping?"

"Not completely, no. I should get up and fix breakfast."

"We don't really need breakfast. We're going to Mimi's at noon."

"Coffee then."

"Yeah, yeah, coffee would be good, but not just this minute."

"No, not just this minute." Fraser stayed still, his body comfortable and completely relaxed against Ray's.

Several minutes passed, the wind whipping the boards of the cabin, the morning light creeping in. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"I've been thinking."

Fraser sighed and opened his eyes. "About what?"

"About this marriage thing."

"You don't want to get married?"

"I think we're already married, as married as we can be without the official papers and stuff. We didn't have a ceremony, but so what? I mean, I think of us as already hitched."

"I agree."

"So, this is sort of like a honeymoon."

Fraser shifted and looked into Ray's eyes with a smile. "I like the way you think, Ray."

Ray pulled him into a kiss, hungry and seeking the slick heat of Fraser's mouth, his partner's tongue meeting Ray's with every exploration. Shoving his hips forward, his cock rubbed against Fraser's eager morning erection. Struggling for air, Ray pushed away just enough to whisper, "I want you, Fraser, I want you so much, too much sometimes."

"It's never too much, Ray."

"Sometimes it is, sometimes it scares me how much I want you, how much I need to touch you."

Fraser thrust his hips forward, his crotch lined up with Ray. "Touch all you want. Make love to me all you want, any way you want. I won't hold anything back because I need you just as much as you need me. I need you to want me, to need me."

"Is that what it is between us, me needing you and you needing me to need you? Don't they have some kind of name for that, codependence or something?"

"I think it's called love."

"Yeah?"

"All love is symbiotic in nature. We both get something we need." Fraser's hand slipped down between them, finding Ray's cock, stroking it.

Ray hissed and closed his eyes, dropping his forehead against Fraser's sweaty chest. "God, that hurts so good."

"Hurts?"

"I'm still a little sore from last night. I never fucked this much even when I was a teenager."

Fraser didn't release him, but his hand stilled. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Stop now and I'll kick you in the head as soon as I find my mukluks."

Chuckling, Fraser slowly resumed his coaxing, pushing Ray to his back. Hard and ready, Ray watched as Fraser straddled his hips, easing his ass slowly onto his cock. Impaled, Fraser's mouth dropped opened, his head back as he savored the position.

Barely able to speak, Ray grabbed Fraser's thigh and squeezed to get his attention. "We need a condom."

"No, Ray, we don't."

"Fraser, we agreed to keep using rubbers."

His voice husky and raw, Fraser pleaded. "Please, Ray, I want to feel what it's like, nothing between us. We're both safe. Please, let me do this."

"Jesus."

"It's Christmas, Ray. I want this."

"Not fair, Fraser, using the Christmas deal."

To up the ante, Fraser lifted and shoved down again, fucking himself with Ray's cock. Ray shut up fast, the air too thin to do much good as his balls ached and his thighs trembled. His whole head swam with the heated joy of having his dick inside Fraser, knowing that Fraser loved being fucked as much as Ray loved fucking. The thought of condoms disappeared into a spin of pure pleasure as Fraser continued to move himself up and down. Hands played over nipples and Ray whimpered as Fraser leaned forward and took his mouth with his own, fucking his mouth with his tongue. Ray thrust up as Fraser shoved down, matching their rhythms. Fraser's groans revved Ray's movements, made him crazy with wanting more, to fuck harder, faster. Fraser wouldn't let him breathe, had him pinned down as he rode him like he wanted, like they both needed. Coming hit like a hammer, blasting his cock and balls, slamming up his spine, his head exploding in bright, streaming flashes.

Ray shook with release and Fraser jerked with him, jets of come across Ray's slick chest, the spray pungent and spiky. Slumping down, Fraser took time to catch his breath and Ray lay without thinking, words gone, the world narrowed down to the delicious wallow in the afterglow. Even his skin tingled, rich and happy with the joy of being with Fraser. Time had no meaning, none whatsoever.

Fraser lifted and shifted to his side as he covered them both. He buried his face against Ray's chest. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being selfish. I should've discussed my desire for making love without a condom before the actual fact."

"Did it look like I cared?"

"Well, no, but that's not the point. I took advantage of the situation. I knew once we engaged in foreplay to a certain degree, it'd be very difficult for you to tell me to stop."

Eyes still closed, arms wrapped around Fraser, Ray teased, "Foreplay? Fuck, Fraser, sitting on my dick ain't foreplay, but you don't hear me complaining, not a word, not a peep." His voice took on a more serious note. "Look, if you don't want to use rubbers, then I'm okay with that. It doesn't matter if that's what you want."

"You could get a urinary infection. I was being entirely self-centered."

Chuckling, Ray kissed Fraser's wet curls. "Oh, yeah, a real hog."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I liked it. In case you didn't notice, I liked it just fine, better than fine, best ever. Hell, every time we do it, it's like better than the last time. I swear, you're going to kill me before it's over, but what a way to go. Jesus."

Fraser laughed and relaxed. "I never imagined it could ever be this good."

"Yeah, we've got magic, Frase, real magic. Can't explain it, don't need to, but I know that's what it is and it's real."

"I never believed in magic before."

"Never believed in ghosts, either."

"Right you are, Ray." Chuckling, Fraser squeezed him. "We should clean up and fix some coffee. It's getting late."

"A few more minutes. My dick needs to recover before I hit the icebox we jokingly call the can."

"There's always the bucket."

"Told you before, no bucket."

"It snowed last night, over a foot. I didn't have time to clear a path."

Ray closed his eyes and wished for indoor plumbing again soon. "I'll go in a minute. No hurry. I can hold it."

"I'll go first and then get some water boiling so we can clean up. You'll want coffee when you get up, too."

"Sounds good."

Fraser kissed him one more time before climbing out of bed. He hurriedly dressed and then headed outside. As soon as he left, Ray lifted his right hand and stared at his wedding band, thought of all the times Stella took hers off, stowed it away so no one would see it, no one would know she'd hooked up with such a loser. Then she ended the whole damn thing and took it off permanently, like they'd never even happened. He hated the thought of ever taking off the ring, of hiding what he was to Fraser. Kissing the cool gold, he palmed his hand over his heart, swearing he'd always be true to the one man who loved him no matter what.

"Cold enough for you?"

Ray shivered and reluctantly gave up his heavy coat to Mimi before taking off his hat and gloves. "It's cold enough to freeze your eyeballs."

"You heard that story, eh?"

"Jesus, don't tell me."

"You live up here long enough, you hear about every body part being frozen at one time or another."

Ray rubbed his hands together, trying to shake off the cold. "The heater in the SUV we borrowed isn't working that great."

"Let me get you something to drink then. That'll warm you up."

Mimi hustled him and Fraser out of the narrow hallway and into a much larger living room already filled with people. All those eyes turned in their direction. A smiling young boy got up and came straight at Fraser. "Constable Fraser, Mama said you'd come." Without hesitation, the boy wrapped his arms around Fraser's waist and hugged him.

Fraser grinned and squeezed back, obviously pleased by the reaction. "It's good to see you, Jeremy. Let me introduce my friend Ray. Ray, this is Jeremy LaBeau. Jeremy, this is Ray Vecchio, my partner."

"Partner? Mounties have partners?"

"Sometimes."

Jeremy gave Ray an appraising look. "You don't look like a Mountie."

"I'm not."

"You a Yank?"

"Yeah. I come from Chicago."

"Cool." Jeremy nodded approval and then turned his attention back to Fraser. "I've been working on a new model airplane. You want to come see?"

"Certainly." Fraser allowed himself to be guided to the stairs, leaving Ray to his own devices.

Turning, he saw two men sitting near the window, one older than the other, more military in appearance. He stood a few inches over six foot tall with a buzzed hair cut, muscular build, and icy blue eyes that didn't miss a trick. The younger man had long, dark, curly hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that lit up the room. Energy shimmered all around him as he spoke first. "Hey, you must be the new Yank."

"Yeah, Ray Vecchio."

"Eddie Banks." He held out a hand and shook Ray's and then pointed at his friend. "This is Chris Frame." Chris shook Ray's hand, but didn't speak.

"So, you guys know Mimi pretty well?"

Eddie did all the talking. "Yeah, she's great. She sort of adopted us after Chris helped the Mounties find Jeremy last summer when he wandered off in the woods."

Ray met Chris's eyes and knew that look right off. "You're a cop."

"Used to be. Heard you still are."

Ray looked away, uncomfortable with the intensity from a stranger's eyes, a stranger who seemed to read him too well. "Yeah, in Chicago."

Eddie pointed at Ray's cast. "You on sick leave?"

"Yeah."

"Bad case?"

"Eddie, he might not want to talk about it."

"I'm just asking."

Ray interrupted. "Yeah, it was a bad case, and no, I don't want to talk about it."

Mimi came up with a cup of laced eggnog. "I didn't know if you'd want coffee or something stronger. I've got beer or straight liquor if you want. I've also got sodas."

Ray took the cup, sniffed, the rush from the smell of good whiskey like heat all over his body. "No, this is fine, thanks."

"Good. I've got food to check out. You men chat and get to know each other. I think Jeremy's kidnapped Benton already."

As she walked away, Ray sipped the eggnog, letting the alcohol warm him. He forced himself not to chug the whole thing down at once. He knew there was plenty more once he got started. He turned back to Eddie. "Why'd you guys end up in a place like Yellowknife?"

Eddie motioned to the empty chair and Ray took it. Chris stayed standing, his arms crossed as he kept his eyes on Ray. Eddie started the story. "We like it here."

"You like freezing your asses off?"

"No, we like the freedom. We can be ourselves here."

Truth dawned and Ray finished his eggnog. His tummy glowed and he wanted more, but he didn't get up yet. "You're together, right?"

Chris didn't hesitate. "Yeah, we are. People here don't much care about that."

Ray agreed. "Yeah, they seem pretty good about it."

Eddie's voice softened. "So, are you and Fraser, like a couple?"

"Why do you ask?"

"The ring."

Ray looked down at the gold band he still wore and nodded. "Yeah, we are. Recently."

"Cool."

Ray smiled and got up. "Think I'll have another eggnog. Want some?"

Eddie shook his head. "No, we're fine. Chris doesn't drink and I don't want to get plastered too early."

"Or not at all, Junior."

"Now, Chris, just a little tipsy won't hurt. You're driving."

Ray chuckled all the way to the kitchen as he listened to those two bickering away like an old married couple. He found the punch bowl and served himself out another mug of eggnog. On the table he saw the bottle of bourbon and without thinking, not wanting to think, he picked it up and doctored his drink to make it even stronger.

Mimi came up behind him. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah. I haven't had any eggnog for a while."

Worried, she touched his arm. "Are you okay? Did someone say something to upset you? You look pale."

"No, I'm fine, just thirsty."

Mimi nodded, unconvinced. Still, she didn't argue, and turned back to moving some food to a platter. Ray watched, drank some more, and decided bourbon tasted a lot better straight. He poured himself a double shot in the same mug, ignoring Mimi's sidelong glances. Taking a deep swallow, he savored the burn down to his belly. God, he'd missed that feeling, that slow dulling of the world, the easing of the tension he always carried around like some fucking packhorse. Enjoying the slight buzz, he looked up to find Fraser in the doorway, his partner's face more worried than angry. Fuck.

"It's not what you think, Fraser."

His face suddenly neutral, Fraser turned to Mimi. "Could you leave us alone for just a moment, please, Mimi?"

Mimi wiped her hands on her apron as she glanced first at Fraser and then Ray, taking in the obvious tension. "Sure, no problem. I need to check on the twins anyway."

As soon as she left, Fraser moved closer, but Ray stepped away, moving to a different part of the kitchen, out of reach. "I just wanted a drink, Fraser. It's Christmas. I'm not drunk."

"But you're not sober, either. Ray, you know you can't drink."

"Get off my back about this. I won't get drunk and do something stupid. Just don't tell me what I can and can't do. And don't stand there and look all disappointed because I want to have a fucking drink on a holiday. Just about every guy in the world has a few drinks on Christmas. Just because you don't, doesn't mean I can't have one."

Fraser closed his eyes briefly before staring at him again. Ray hated that expression, that long-suffering, patient look Fraser got when he really disapproved of what Ray did. "Fine. Just don't ask me to condone it."

"I'm not asking you to do anything except leave me the fuck alone about it."

"Ray..."

"I mean it, Fraser, drop it."

Hands up in surrender, Fraser nodded unhappily. "Done."

As soon as Fraser left the kitchen, Ray sagged down at the table and dropped his face to his hand. Shit, shit, shit. He didn't need this, didn't need Fraser acting all holier than thou just because he wanted a fucking drink.

A voice came from the doorway. "You okay?"

He didn't look up, didn't want to talk to some stranger who didn't have a fucking clue. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

Chris Frame walked in and sat down across from him. "Eddie's trying to talk Fraser into a game of Scrabble. You feel up to taking on a hyperactive egghead and a Mountie?"

Ray looked up, his head still a little swimmy. "They probably know more words put together than a whole fucking dictionary. Fuck. Fraser knows seven or eight languages, some that don't even have letters."

"So does Eddie."

"Jesus. I fucked up."

"You've only had a couple."

"A couple too many."

"Yeah, well, one is too many."

Ray rubbed the back of his head and took a deep breath before he met Chris's steady gaze. "You sound like you know something about it."

"I'm in recovery, so, yeah, a little."

"Recovery, huh? You go to meetings and all that shit?"

"That shit saved my life, well, that and Eddie. I was going downhill fast and didn't give a shit if I hit bottom or if the bottom hit me."

Ray closed his eyes, the pull to have another drink like thunder that never let up. From the other room, he heard Eddie and Fraser talking about Inuit customs. Fraser's smooth voice called to him, made him stronger, forced him to stop being an asshole, at least for the moment. "So, you any good at Scrabble or are we going to get our asses kicked?"

Chris snorted. "Do I look like a guy who gets his ass kicked?"

Ray nodded with a weak grin. "Yeah, on a regular basis by Eddie."

"Bet you're a good cop."

"Sometimes. Sometimes I suck."

"Something tells me that doesn't really matter to Fraser."

"Yeah, maybe."

Standing up, Chris used his thumb to motion to the living room. "Come on. Mimi needs to get in here and finish the bird and we need to show those wise guys that knowing a bunch of big words doesn't always win the game."

Ray stood up and followed. "God, we're going to get stomped."

Chris patted his shoulder and edged him through the doorway with a hand at the small of his back. "Hey, don't worry. I've got a plan. I'll distract Eddie and you can distract Fraser. They won't know what hit'em."

"You mean play dirty?"

"You bet."

Grinning, Ray nodded, stepping lighter and with more enthusiasm. "I like that. Once a cop, always a cop."

Chris didn't argue, just hustled him into the room to make up with Fraser.

Pissed off, passive-aggressive Mounties were hard to distract. Every time Ray tried to play footsie or make a joke, Fraser moved away or ignored him. Meanwhile, Chris had a great time making sure Eddie couldn't even think to spell his own fucking name.

After losing the second game, Ray gave up and headed to the bathroom. He walked in and smiled at the bright, shiny indoor toilet, the sink, the tub, and shower. What a beautiful sight for sore eyes. Tempted to strip off and take a hot shower while he had a chance, he focused instead on just using the can and getting back downstairs. He figured if Fraser wanted to make him pay penance by being an asshole the rest of the day, he deserved it.

Ray finished, zipped up, and washed his hands. As he dried off, he reached for the door only to be pushed back inside by Fraser, who quickly locked the door behind him.

"Fraser?"

"Ray."

"Nice bathroom, huh?"

Fraser didn't take his eyes off him, didn't glance away, just stared with a kind of hunger that made Ray's cock grateful for looser jeans. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, but I figured from the way you were acting downstairs that you wanted to make me sweat some first."

"Oh, yes, Ray, I'd like you to sweat some, but not the way you think." Fraser stepped closer as Ray moved back just a few steps to find himself pinned against the wall.

"Fraser, they'll hear us."

"Then you'd better strive to be quiet."

Fraser's mouth captured his, his tongue on fire as it pushed between Ray's lips. Anger played out as Fraser ground his crotch against Ray's and his hands held his head still. Needing air, Ray pushed him away half-heartedly. "Fraser, stop."

Reluctantly, Fraser eased back, but didn't release him. "Mimi's getting ready to serve dinner. I needed to be with you alone for just a minute."

Ray stared at him in dismay. "Fraser, you can't just start something like this and quit."

"But it wouldn't be appropriate to continue."

"Fuck that. You started it."

"Actually, you started it."

"How'd I do that?"

"By being an asshole earlier. This is just my way of getting your attention."

Shocked that Fraser resorted to name-calling and seduction, Ray shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you just said that, just came in here and played me like this. Jesus."

"Why not? You were an asshole by your own definition, and while I appreciate the fact that you decided to stop drinking, I'm still angry at the way you just simply decided that my feelings and opinions on the subject don't matter. Your drinking doesn't affect just you, Ray, not any longer. Now it affects me."

Swallowing hard, Ray agreed. "I know that. I'm sorry."

"Why did you feel so compelled to drink? What triggered it?"

"I don't know. Mimi brought me the eggnog and it just seemed right."

"You were drinking straight bourbon in the kitchen, not some festive holiday drink, Ray. If you don't know your own triggers, how can we learn to avoid them in the future?"

His dick losing interest fast, Ray lowered the lid to the toilet and slumped down, his head hanging. "You're not going to like it."

"Tell me anyway."

"Two things come to mind."

"Two things?"

"Yeah, when I first got together with Stella, we used to spike the eggnog at her dad's holiday parties. We'd get plastered together every Christmas. It was sort of a tradition, even when we got married. Drunk as skunks, both of us. It was one of the few times Stella really let her hair down, at least until the last couple of years. By that time, it didn't much matter. I was drinking for both of us."

"And the second thing?"

Ray couldn't look up, didn't want to say it, but forced himself to form the words. "The ring."

Fraser kneeled beside him, his hand on Ray's thigh. "What about the ring?"

"I felt so good wearing it, knowing what it stands for. Then I was talking to Eddie and he noticed it, asked if we were together. I told him, yeah, and it felt good, so fucking good to say that out loud, to admit that." Ray met Fraser's eyes, his own stinging with tears. His voice strained the words. "Then I got to thinking, we go home in a couple of days and I can't even wear it, can't tell anybody about it, just have to go back into the fucking closet, into limbo until Vecchio gets his ass back so we can get our lives together. I guess the booze just made that a little easier to swallow, because I have to tell you, Fraser, it's choking me to death knowing I've got to keep this quiet, this love I have for you."

Arms drew him closer as Fraser cupped the back of his head. "Ray, we're together. That's all that matters."

"It just hurts to have to lie." Ray lifted his head and sucked in a deep breath. "And that's what it is, Fraser, lying through our teeth. We'll have to fucking lie every time someone says something or looks sideways. I'm so fucking tired of pretending."

"I can see that."

Ray cleared his throat and wiped his face with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the tears he couldn't control, not even for Fraser. "Anyway, I think it just kind of caught me off guard, you know, so I just fucked up. I'm sorry. I didn't plan it. Then you caught me and I got defensive. I suck."

"You don't suck, Ray. You just had a slight relapse."

"Relapse, suck, same difference. I'm sorry."

"Enough said." Fraser leaned in, brushing his lips against Ray's. "Wash your face. Come down and eat. Mimi's an expert cook. Afterwards, Eddie has asked if I'd play the piano and sing some favorite carols, that is if you'd want to stay that long."

"To listen to you sing? Sure." Ray rested his forehead against Fraser's. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For putting up with my shit."

"It's only fitting since you put up with an inordinate amount of unconventional behavior from me as well." Fraser kissed him and then stood up. "Hurry. I don't want to give rise to unwarranted gossip about your growing porcelain fetish."

"Hell, they probably already think we're doing it in the can anyway."

"Then we will dispel that notion by being the epitome of decorum."

"Huh?"

"We'll behave."

"Right, right." Ray stood and then cocked an eyebrow as Fraser unlocked the door. "Just until we get home, though, right? After that, all bets are off on that decorum stuff. You'll finish what you started, right?"

"Oh, yes, Ray, you can certainly count on that."

Ray's whole body tingled at the thought of Fraser's focused effort at finishing him off without being the least bit proper or polite. Nothing suited him more than having Fraser shed that stupid ass I'm too polite for words Mountie shit. He wanted the real Fraser, the one who only showed up in private, his own Benton Fraser.

Ray sat on the sofa, feet up, watching the fire as Fraser got the coffee. Bringing the mug over, Fraser frowned. "Ray, you've been terribly reticent ever since we got back."

"Reticent?"

"Quiet, pensive."

"I know what reticent means, Fraser."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Sit down."

Settling at the other end of the sofa, Fraser sipped his tea. "I didn't know Alan would show up."

"I know that."

"You act like it's my fault."

"I don't mean to. I was just thinking about how I feel sorry for the guy."

Fraser studied him momentarily and then shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand. I thought you disliked Alan."

Ray smiled, ignoring the comment. "You sing like an angel."

"Now, Ray, I don't think..."

"Just say thank you, Ray."

Fraser paused and then nodded. "Thank you, Ray."

"See, that wasn't so hard, taking a compliment. You know you have trouble with that, letting people say nice things about you. You blush and get all flustered. I used to think it was cute, still do, mostly, but it makes me wonder why it is, why it's so hard for you to accept that people like what you do, how you sound, how you look."

Right on cue, Fraser turned red and shrugged as he looked down at his hands. "I really couldn't say, Ray."

"I can. You never got told enough good stuff as a kid. You like it, cause that's only human, but you don't believe it most of the time. I wish I could make that different for you, but I can't, can't change how you were raised. But I'm not lying when I say, you're an exceptional person in every way I can think of."

Fraser cleared his throat and blinked several times. "Thank you, Ray. That means a lot. However, I still don't understand how that relates to Alan McClain and your sudden change in behavior after his arrival."

"Did you see his wife and kids?"

"Yes, they're a very nice family."

"Yeah, and yet the whole time, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Poor bastard."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating."

Ray lifted his head and studied Fraser for a minute, wondering how the hell it was that Fraser never seemed to see it. "It's not in my head, Fraser. Trust me on this. I feel for the guy, I do. I got to thinking, what if I were still with Stella and you came along, and I couldn't have you? It'd be miserable. So, here's this guy who's got it really bad and he can't have you because he's married and has kids and you're with someone else. It doesn't change the fact that he wants you. I was jealous before, but now I just feel sorry for the guy. He can never have you and he knows it. That's gotta hurt, no two ways about it, it's gotta hurt bad."

Fraser put his tea down on the table by the sofa and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes trained toward the fire. "I've thought about that."

"About what? Alan?"

"No, not about Alan. I've thought about what I would have done if you'd reconciled with Stella. You must admit that during the Orsini investigation, your behavior gave me reason to worry. Your obsession caused me a great deal of concern, not just for my own part, but because I was afraid your actions might lead to suspension or some other more serious consequence. Beyond that, once I saw your interactions with Stella, I misread her signals. It seemed to me she was certainly open to allowing you to revisit certain aspects of your previous relationship."

"Speak English."

Fraser kept looking at the fire, not meeting Ray's eyes. "She would've slept with you and you with her if I hadn't shown up at her apartment when I did. I often wonder how that would've turned out, how I would've reacted if I knew there would never be an opportunity for us to be together."

"Not me."

Fraser turned his head and stared, not quite convinced. "Never?"

"No. If Stella and I got back together, we'd end up split up again. It's a no brainer. We're not the same people we were, and that's not a bad thing. We've got nothing in common anymore except history and you can't keep a marriage together with nothing but bygones, nothing but memories of how it was. It won't work no matter how hard you try. Sure, I love her and she loves me, but not the way you need to love somebody if you want to stay married. I'm just glad you waited until I came to my senses enough to really get that. Took me long enough, but I finally get it. I'm a Stella-free zone, all yours, forever."

"I'm relieved to hear it."

Ray tilted his head, his eyes narrowed. "You really worried about that?"

"Yes, a great deal. Every time she came to the station, you changed."

"How?"

"Ray, you know it's only been recently that you don't get aroused when you see her."

It was Ray's turn to blush at Fraser's unusual bluntness. "Well, yeah, conditioning, I guess. You have to admit, Stella's a babe."

"She's very attractive, though not my type."

Ray shifted closer and draped an arm over Fraser's shoulders. "Yeah, I think you like your blonds taller and with different equipment."

Fraser chuckled, his head turning, his breath warm against Ray's skin. "I do, indeed, like your equipment, Ray."

"Show me."

Needing no more invitation, Fraser stood and pulled Ray to his feet, leading him to the bed. As Ray sat on the edge, Fraser stripped off first, slowly taking off his outerwear and then unbuttoning the long johns underneath. Naked, he kneeled and unlaced Ray's mukluks, slipping them off along with the socks. Still not speaking, he gently pushed Ray back against the comforter. Busy hands got Ray undressed and the two of them under the covers in no time.

Fraser's mouth got to work, Ray lying back, savoring the wet heat of his partner's tongue as Fraser licked and tortured his nipples, his chest, down his belly, but just missing his dick. Fraser shifted back up, lifting his head, his eyes dark with desire, his lips already puffy from his efforts. "You taste so good, Ray."

Fraser's fingers teased and explored Ray's lips as he spoke. "Must be all that turkey and dressing."

Fraser's hand slipped down to Ray's cock, stroking. Biting and nibbling at Ray's ear, he whispered, his voice raw with want. "I want to lick you all over, Ray."

"Sure, sure, anything."

"Ray, please. Let me lick you some place truly special."

Ray stilled, suddenly cold. "Come on, Fraser, that's not buddies."

"Trust me. If you don't like it, I'll stop. I dream about it, about tasting you there."

"You dream about licking my butt?"

Amazingly, Fraser's eyes twinkled and he didn't blush. "Yes."

Ray closed his eyes, not sure if he could handle it, not the way Fraser wanted. "Not on my stomach."

"Just lift your legs over my shoulders. It'll be good, Ray. I promise. If you want me to stop, I'll stop. You've never felt anything like it. I want to give you this."

"And you really want to do that, put your tongue in my ass?"

"Very much so, yes."

"Jeez, you're a first class freak." But the words came out teasing, a little scared, but not harsh. Ray cupped Fraser's face lovingly, wanting to give Fraser something he desired so badly, had begged for several times already. "Sure, okay, but go easy."

Fraser kissed his mouth, his tongue slick and salty. Once again, Fraser shifted and moved between his spread legs, resting the back of Ray's knees over his shoulders. His mouth went to work on Ray's cock, sucking it, but not too hard, just barely there, making him hard and slick again.

Then he moved south, Ray's balls fondled and tasted, rolled and worshiped. Moaning with pleasure, Ray tensed slightly as strong, familiar hands spread his cheeks. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, swimming in the hot sensation of that tongue slipping in, his thighs trembling. Fraser's whiskers touched sensitive skin as his tongue and finger played tag with his asshole. Then Fraser's tongue and mouth took over, worked him, alternating between probing and gentle sucking.

Ray's dick twitched and his balls throbbed as his ass ached and grew more needy. Whimpering, Ray shoved his ass harder into Fraser's face only to be met with even more tongue and then lapping.

Nothing prepared him for the sudden slam of release with Fraser's tongue buried deep inside him and his partner's hand stroking his dick at the same time. Violent spasms jerked him up with a scream as he held onto the bed sheets, knowing if he let go, he'd explode in a million fucking pieces, every cell a new universe of sensation.

Fraser never stopped sucking and licking, working his dick while Ray continued to moan with coming. Beautiful colors washed over him, buzzed all over with swarms of blue and yellows, flashes zapping his eyeballs, every muscle milked of useful energy. Air meant gasping and panting, never quite getting enough air to the brain for thinking. Words and pictures melted away except for the image of Fraser's gorgeous dark head buried between his legs and taking him to Heaven.

And he wanted to stay there, Fraser's tongue guiding him to nothing but pure light, pure ecstasy.

Ray had no concept of time, but knew that Frazer now lay beside him nuzzling his neck, humming.

"Sweet Jesus, you're good."

"Now, Ray..."

"Just say thank you, Ray."

"Thank you, Ray."

Ray snorted and then shifted to bury his face into Fraser's chest. "God, I love you."

"As I do you, Ray. I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I was hoping you would."

"Enjoy's a puny word, Fraser, doesn't come close to describing it."

"I know. It's a delicious experience."

Relaxed, but curious, Ray just didn't get it. "It can't be that good for you, Fraser. I mean, I'm the one who gets the good part."

"On the contrary, I find the oral stimulation to be quite gratifying." Fraser took Ray's hand and led it down between his legs to his wasted cock, still slick from coming.

"You get off doing that to me?"

"Oh, yes."

"Good, because as soon as I can, we might try that again, you know, just to satisfy your crazy urges."

Going along with the tease, Fraser nodded, "Quite so, Ray. I appreciate your indulgence of my somewhat deviant desires."

"I'm a big city cop. Freakish ways don't scare me."

"Good thing."

Petting Fraser's belly, Ray smiled. "A very good thing."

"This is not the way I wanted to spend the last full day of our vacation."

Fraser finished loading the dark clothes into the machine, added detergent, and then pushed the money into the slot to start the cycle. Then he returned to the seat beside Ray. The place hummed with the loud whirl of washers and the almost hypnotic tumble of dryers. "You'll thank me when we're not packing dirty clothes to take back to Chicago."

"It's not like we brought a ton of stuff with us."

"Still, we needed to wash the sheets and towels. Leaving dirty linen behind would be very poor etiquette."

"We could just burn it all."

"Ray..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ray looked sideways and shrugged. "No need to rub Alan's face in it."

"It shouldn't take too long. There doesn't appear to be a crowd using the facilities at the moment."

Ray closed his eyes, praying for patience. "Go figure. It's only six in the morning the day after Christmas."

"Is that a low activity time?"

"It's pitch black out, Fraser. Most people are still sleeping."

"I should point out that at this time of year, it's dark most of the day here."

"I've noticed, but that still doesn't change the fact that most people sleep late during the holidays."

"The holidays are over."

Ray didn't answer, just gave up trying to explain something that Fraser would never get. He got up and walked over to the window, looking out at the quiet town. Regret grew in his gut, a kind of twisty anxiety that kept getting bigger the closer they came to going back to Chicago. He'd hate leaving this new place, the people, the escape from his other life.

Fraser joined him, standing just behind his shoulder. "Ray, you could've stayed at the cabin. I just thought if we did this now, it'd save time. The flight leaves tomorrow morning at ten."

"It's okay. I didn't want to stay out there all alone. I like being with you even when we're stuck in some cheesy Laundromat in the middle of the arctic circle." Ray quickly held up a finger as Fraser opened his mouth to speak. "And don't correct me about the arctic circle thing. I know it's not technically the arctic circle, so shut up."

"I was just going to say that this is a rather nice Laundromat as Laundromat's go. During my stay in Chicago, I had the opportunity to visit several such establishments and discovered that there's a great diversity in terms of available quality."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, there was this one on..."

"I didn't mean that literally, Fraser."

"Oh."

"I just meant, you're right. There are a lot worse places. I'm just grumpy. I need coffee."

Fraser smiled. "It just so happens I can help with that."

"Always prepared, eh?" Ray grimaced and realized he'd unconsciously picked up the Canadian eh thing. He did that a lot, blended in with the locals, part of the reason why he did so well with undercover.

Fraser motioned Ray back to his seat and fetched his bag, pulling out a thermos and mug. He poured some out for Ray and handed it to him. "I thought you might enjoy a little refreshment while we were waiting."

Ray took it and sniffed, sighing happily at the welcome aroma of chocolate mixed with strong coffee. "God bless you, Fraser."

"You're welcome."

Ray took several drinks and then opened his eyes. "What about you? Didn't you bring any tea?"

"Not necessary."

"Why not?"

"There's only one thermos."

"And you made coffee instead of tea?"

"I prefer the pleasure of watching you savor your coffee. I must admit that over time, I've even come to enjoy the morning ritual of you and coffee."

"Canadians sure are easy to please."

"Not at all. I like seeing you happy, Ray."

The coffee didn't warm him nearly as much as those words. Smiling, no longer grouchy at the early hour, Ray relaxed. "So, after we finish laundry, then what?"

"Well, the cafe opens early. I thought we could have breakfast. Then I believe you've got some more pictures to pick up and a tripod to take back. After that, it's up to you."

"You think Cal will be in the shop so early?"

"I believe so. He usually comes in around seven to do the developing. He opens to the general public at ten, but I'm sure he'd be willing to give you your prints if we go over there before then." Fraser paused before he added, "I think he's rather fond of you, Ray."

"Yeah?" Ray sipped his coffee and considered the idea. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's like he really wants me to quit my job and come up here to take pictures for a living."

"Perhaps after this assignment, that might be an option."

Ray glanced sideways and frowned. "Don't kid about that, Fraser. You know that's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to make a living doing stuff like that? It's not easy."

"Well, no, but Cal does it and from what he's said, he believes you also have the talent to do so. For what it's worth, I concur. I think you have an exceptional eye behind the lens. Once this assignment is over, should you decide to try professional photography, I'm sure Cal would help you make the necessary contacts that could lead to success."

"You're serious?"

"Absolutely. In addition, I think you could also do quite well if you decided to sell some of your artwork."

"Sell my drawings?"

"Artists do it all the time, Ray."

Ray didn't react right away, but sipped his coffee and considered the words, considered the possibilities. Fraser sat patiently, his arms and legs crossed as he watched both him and the washer. Finally, Ray spoke quietly. "You know, I used to think about stuff like that, follow your dreams stuff."

"What happened?"

"Well, you know about the bank and what happened with Marcus Ellery."

"You became a police officer because of it."

"Yeah, but that might not have happened if I ever once got a pat on the back for anything except maybe dancing. Stella thought it was a stupid pipe dream, not practical, and my dad, well, you can imagine what my dad thought about his son being some sissy artist. I had trouble in school, trouble with books and trying to read, trying to write so it makes sense. I can do it, but I'm not good at it. It's hard for me, but you already know that. I always thought I was just stupid."

Fraser's hand settled on Ray's arm and squeezed gently to accent his words. "Ray, you're not stupid."

"I know that, I do. I get things backward in my head, that's all. But pictures, I can do pictures, always could, but I stopped. For a long time, I just put that part of me away. Sure, I doodled some and took a few shots, but never seriously. Now, you come along and it's all different. You see what I can do and you don't think it's stupid or dumb to think about doing something with it." Ray shuddered and closed his eyes.

"Why are you so frightened by that?"

Opening his eyes, Ray met Fraser's intense gaze briefly before looking away. "Because it's risky."

"You've never been afraid of risk before, Ray."

"Sure I have. I just try to be tough and not show it. Besides, this is different from driving a burning car into the lake or stepping in front of a bullet. This is exposing the real me, doing something I really care about for a change."

"You don't care about being a police officer?"

"I do, but it's not the same, not the same at all. I'm a good cop. I know that. Sure, I fuck up sometimes, but I'm good. They can't take that away from me even if they do chain me to a desk. But this, this is like walking down the middle of the street naked and expecting people not to look away, to like what they see. That ain't going to happen. Not everyone's going to like what I might decide to draw or to take pictures of. Some are going to think it's a waste of time. It'll be hard."

"It's not important what they think. It's important what you think."

"I know that in my head, but it's not easy to take those kind of steps."

"Then take baby steps."

Ray glanced up, not sure what that meant. "Baby steps?"

"Yes, baby steps." Fraser leaned in, his voice softer to avoid being overheard by the people who were now pretending not to pay attention to their private conversation. "Continue to draw and take your pictures, but then later, when Ray returns, decide whether you want to make such a drastic change in your life. Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

"You might have to if I leave the force. I've got some savings, but not enough to keep going for more than a year or so unless I get another job."

"I'll support you economically if need be, Ray, you know that, but I meant emotionally. I really think this is something you should explore if you decide to leave police work or even if you don't. I think it's a talent that you've ignored long enough."

"You really think so?"

"I do."

Ray shook his head and then finished his coffee. He grinned as he held out his mug for a refill. "You're great for my ego, you know that?"

"As you are for mine."

"How?" Fraser blushed and Ray laughed out loud as he realized what Fraser meant. "Don't say anything. I get it."

As Fraser refilled his mug, Ray took a deep breath. "I think they need wildlife photographers in Canada?"

"I'm sure there's a need for good photographers all over the world."

"But do they let photographers into Canada, you know, as immigrants?"

Fraser's expression changed slowly from puzzled to happy. "I'm sure they do, Ray, especially with a qualified sponsor."

"And that would be you?"

"Yes, it would."

"Good to know." Ray leaned in closer, whispering in Fraser's ear. "They got a nice can in this place, one big enough for two?"

Pulling back, Fraser studied him a moment, his eyes narrowed with caution. "In the back."

"I'll go in first. Wait a minute and then follow."

"Ray..."

"Come on, Fraser. Hardly anyone's here."

Suddenly breathy, Fraser argued, but his eyes darkened with desire. "It wouldn't be appropriate."

"You're not in uniform, not on duty. Bet the door has a lock."

Before Fraser could fake a protest, Ray headed to the back, his mind jumping ahead and thinking about all the great things Fraser could do with that marvelous mouth instead of just stroking his ego.

"**************

"Oh, man, Cal, these look great."

"I thought so."

Ray flipped the pages on the album of his pictures. "It's a shame you don't live in Chicago. I'd bring all my film to you."

"You're the one who took shots worth developing." Cal paused before he added, "I was just thinking it's a shame you don't move up here. I mean, what are you going to take pictures of in Chicago, concrete and buildings? It's not quite the same as what you've got to work with up here."

Fraser came to Ray's defense. "That's true, Cal, but outside the city, Illinois is really a lovely state as are the surrounding areas. I'm sure Ray will have plenty of things to photograph once he gets out of the urban setting."

Ray shrugged. "Actually, I was thinking of doing a series of people shots."

Fraser studied him a moment, confused. "People shots?"

"Yeah, close ups and candid shots, maybe even do some black and white stuff. I like color though, so I might stick with that. Anyway, I've been thinking that it might be something to try, something different. I mean, it's not like there are a lot of eagles and foxes in the city."

"That's very true, Ray. I think whatever you decide to study, it'll be remarkable."

Cal shook his head, but smiled good-naturedly. "Still think you're better off sticking with the wildlife in the woods and not the two-legged critters that can shoot back."

Ray closed the album. "You're probably right." He held out a hand. "It's been great meeting you, Cal. I'm going to miss coming in here."

"Same here." He motioned to the album. "I put in a page of contact info at the back. You can call me up anytime on that toll-free number here at the shop or use the number for my house, but that'll cost you a buck or two. I also put in a sheet about how I do your stuff for whoever does your film in the States."

"Thanks, Cal, I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I'm going to miss doing your shots."

Ray put his work under one arm and headed to the door, Fraser right beside him. Cal called out. "Good bye, and take care of the Yank, Constable."

Fraser tipped his hat and smiled. "Consider it done."

Fraser intently studied each picture in the album as Ray packed his bags. "Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"How did you get this one?"

Ray stepped over to the back of the sofa and leaned forward, checking out the picture of the large grey wolf on the horizon. "I got that a few days ago, right before Christmas. He was just standing there, watching the cabin. He was beautiful. I got almost half a roll. I think he liked getting his picture taken."

"Why didn't you tell me you'd seen a male wolf so near the cabin?"

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Ray, he could've attacked you."

"But he didn't. Besides, you've told me more than once that wolves don't attack people unless they're threatened or wounded."

"Unless it's winter and he's starving."

"Does he look starved?"

"No, but wolves don't usually come this close to humans."

"Dief does."

"Diefenbaker is only half-wolf and I'm convinced that he was raised by humans at some point before he found me. He's always been rather vague about the details of his life as a pup."

Ray settled onto the sofa next to Fraser, their thighs touching. "I'm sorry. I didn't really think about it. I just wanted to take some good pictures and he didn't look dangerous. If anything, he looked curious."

"Curious?"

"Yeah, you know, like how Dief tilts his head and looks like he's wondering what the hell we're up to a lot of times?"

"Oh, yes, I know the look well."

"He must think we're nuts."

"Sometimes." Fraser continued to stare at the image of the lone wolf. "This still bothers me. It's not normal wolf behavior. We've got no livestock and it's daylight. He shouldn't have come that close unless he was after something."

"Well, if he was after a little Ray flesh, he would've been severely disappointed." Ray patted his belly playfully. "Hardly enough here to make a good mouthful."

Fraser closed the book and put it on the table. He turned to Ray. "You're still underweight, but you've managed to gain a few pounds since we've been here. Your color's better, too."

"Yeah, I feel better." Ray wiggled his fingers. "Arm doesn't hurt as much and the leg only twinges now and then. All in all, I think this place has been good for me." Ray took a deep breath and stared at Fraser. "You've been good for me."

"As you have been for me."

"I don't want to go home, Fraser."

"Neither do I, but I'm afraid duty calls for both of us."

"Fuck duty."

"I'd rather fuck you."

Ray stalled, his mouth dry. "What?"

Truly embarrassed at his careless admission, Fraser looked away and then got up. He crossed his arms and stood with his back to Ray as he stared into the fire. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud. I know that you don't want to do that and I understand. You've got good reason."

Ray got up and positioned himself behind Fraser, his hand on his lover's arm. "You know it's not you, right?"

"I understand."

"Then damn it, turn around and say that."

Reluctantly, Fraser turned, met his eyes, his expression almost too sad to see. "I'm sorry, Ray. I truly understand why you can't allow me to make love to you that way."

"But it's still hard because that's what you want, to do me like I do you."

"But..."

"No buts. It's what you want, right?"

"I don't mean to want it. I'm happy with what we have."

"But doing me would make you happier, which is only fair. I mean, I've been doing you like crazy. Why shouldn't you get some of that, too?" Ray sighed and turned away, walked over to the bed and sagged down, his face in his right hand. Defeat and fear twisted his gut, made his muscles ache all over.

The mattress sagged as Fraser sat beside him. "Ray?"

"I can't. I know it's not fair, I know it sucks, but I can't."

"I understand. Please, don't be upset."

Ray shook his head in frustration. "How can I not be upset? I love you and I want to give you everything you want. Hell, I want to be able to do it, but then my head goes some place I can't handle. It's not right, but that's the way it is, at least for now. Fuck, Fraser, I can't even lie on my stomach and let you give me a massage and not freak out. How fucked up is that?"

"You're too hard on yourself. You've done remarkably well. A lesser man would never have been able to deal with all you've been through."

"A lesser man would've cracked, you mean? Well, I hate to tell you, Fraser, but I feel cracked sometimes, worse than cracked. Hell, if it weren't for you, I'd be wearing my sleeves tied in the back and bouncing off the rubber room walls."

Fraser's arms wrapped around him and drew him near. He kissed his forehead and just held him, rocking gently in place. After a few moments he whispered, "I love you."

"Love you, too."

"Then relax. We'll get through this together."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely."

"Good, because I suck at being alone. I really do."

"You're not alone, Ray. Never again."

Ray closed his eyes and soaked in the heat of Fraser's faithful touch, his comforting words. More than anything he wanted to believe that one day soon he could do anything Fraser wanted. Someday he'd give it all up for the one man who believed that life only got better with the love they shared, a connection that could withstand anything just as long as Ray didn't go into a hole too deep and too dark to ever believe in true love again.

Ray dumped his bag just inside the doorway and then barely made it to the sofa. He collapsed and slumped back, closing his eyes with exhaustion. "God, I hate planes and traveling and waiting around in fucking airports for hours."

Dief bounded in, running past Fraser. He leaped on the couch, still licking and playing around, happy to be home and with his best buddies. Ray grabbed his face by the fur, speaking clearly so the wolf couldn't misunderstand. "Get off me. Now."

Message clear, Dief sat back and then looked over at Fraser with a pitiful whine. "You've only yourself to blame. I told you before he was in no mood to play. We've been traveling a long time and he's tired. Let him rest and he'll be sneaking you doughnuts again in no time."

"I heard that."

"I'm sure you did."

Fraser took his bags, along with the one Ray dropped at the doorway, to the bedroom and then returned. Still wearing his Stetson, he shooed Dief off the cushion and then settled next to Ray. "I must admit the flights back were a bit more fraught than when we left."

"Fraught? Try miserable. I swear to God, I've never smelled such stink, not even when Dief eats hot dogs. If one more kid puked, I was going to join in. And uncomfortable? Some sadist has to be the one who designed those seats. My ass feels like I've been sitting on bricks the whole way."

"You're just tired."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to be here. I liked your world better even without plumbing."

"I must confess I don't like being back, either, but we both know that we didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. You've got appointments with both your doctors tomorrow and I report back to duty by the end of the week."

"The time went too fast."

Fraser took off his hat and put it on the table. He leaned back and draped an arm over Ray's shoulder to pull him closer. "We'll get through this. Our lives will settle back into a routine, a routine that will be enhanced by our being together."

Ray didn't relax, but let Fraser hold him. "Routine is the silent killer."

"I remember the first time you said that."

"And I meant it. I don't want our life together to be routine or ordinary."

"I doubt it'll ever be that, Ray. I just meant..."

"I know what you meant. I just think that it's going to be harder than you think to go back to what it was."

"Well, it won't be going back to the way it was, not really."

Ray pulled back an arm's distance, puzzled. "How's that?"

"We're together now. Neither of us will be dealing with this situation alone."

"Situation? You call what happened and having to deal with all the fallout a situation?"

"What would you call it?"

"A fucking mess." Ray leaned forward, his head down, as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to take this out on you. I'm just wired. Being back here, it just stirs stuff up, makes me a little crazy."

"Being exhausted from the trip doesn't help. Why don't I run you a hot bath? You can relax while I fix something to eat."

"Something to eat? Any food we've got has to be rotten by now."

"Didn't you hear Frannie mention she and her mother restocked the kitchen?"

"To be honest, I kind of tuned her out. Guess I'll have to get used to her voice again."

"It is rather grating sometimes, but she means well."

"Yeah, yeah, she's good people. It's got nothing to do with Frannie."

"I know."

Fraser rich, calm voice warmed him. Ray took a deep breath and settled back into Fraser's arms. "Everything just feels tight again."

"What feels tight again?"

"Me, my chest, my stomach. My head feels like it's going to explode. It's like I've stepped right back into the middle of the whole thing all over again."

"But you haven't, Ray. You're safe. You're getting stronger every day."

"I don't feel stronger."

"We'll just take things a step at a time. You'll get a hot bath and then we'll eat something light. We'll get a good night's rest and you can get your cast off first thing in the morning."

Finally, the tension eased slightly as Ray lifted his left hand. "God, it'll be good to get this thing off even if I do have to do physical therapy."

"And I can help with the heat and massage therapy. Once you know the exercises, I can be of assistance with those as well."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What can I do for you?"

"Just get better, Ray."

Ray wanted to say, sure give him the easy part, but he knew better than to lie to Fraser. "Come on, Fraser, what can I do for you, really?"

Fraser leaned in and kissed him slowly, lovingly, so achingly deep Ray never wanted to stop. As soon as Fraser pulled back, Ray hooked the back of his neck and brought him closer again. "Feels good."

"I think we should revise the night's plan."

"What plan?"

"The one that says you have a long, hot soak alone before we dine."

Lips curled. "And what part of that plan do you want to revise?"

"The alone part."

Ray laughed and got up as Fraser pulled him toward the bedroom, suddenly happy to be home and to be the proud owner of a first class tub and his very own hot beyond words Mountie.

Raines sat on the round, metal stool holding Ray's left hand, the cast now thankfully sawed off and tossed in a nearby bin. Ray didn't want to think about how withered and yellow his arm looked as Raines inspected each of his sluggish fingers. "There's still some swelling. You didn't wear your sling like you were supposed to."

"It didn't hurt that much without it, so I took it off. I couldn't do stuff."

Sighing, Raines shook his head. "That was the point, Ray, to keep it still and let it heal."

Ray ignored the complaint. "It's better though. It doesn't hurt like it did."

"That's good. Now, I want you to make a fist. Make it as tight as you can."

His palm still facing down, Ray tried fisting his hand, his fingers slow and not very responsive. He couldn't punch out a fly much less some streetwise scumbag. It was a good thing he was right-handed.

"Okay, well, that could be better. Relax your hand and try rotating your wrist upward as far as you can."

Biting his lower lip, Ray turned his hand but only a few inches, nowhere near bringing his palm upward. "What's wrong with it? It won't budge."

Raines still supported his arm from underneath. "Try harder. Let's see just how far it'll go without me helping."

Sweating, Ray concentrated all his effort on something that should've been easy. But his wrist wouldn't obey, stayed in the same, locked-down position.

Frowning, Raines put a quick notation on Ray's chart and then stood up. He held out his own palm. "Okay, palm against mine and then push. See how far back you can bend it."

Alarmed, Ray discovered he could hardly bend his wrist back at all without serious pain. "What the fuck's wrong with it? I mean, it wasn't like this the other time I broke it."

"You've never broken it this severely before." Raines patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, Ray. It just needs some work to get it back to full strength and range of motion."

"You sure?"

"If you do the PT and follow my instructions, yes. You decide not to do that, there are no guarantees."

"Okay, okay. What do I need to do?"

"Hold your horses. We're not finished yet. I want you to touch each of your fingers to your thumb."

Ray finally found something he could do.

"Good." Raines picked up a plastic cup. "Hold this."

Wrapping his fingers around the cup, Ray smiled, pleased with himself. Then Raines dropped a metal weight inside the cup and it all fell out of his grasp in a hurry. "Fuck."

"It just means you have to work on the grip, too."

"How long do you think it'll take to get all that back, that range of motion stuff and the grip?"

"A few weeks, a month. It's hard to say. Depends on how good you are at following orders."

Fuck. Talk about a weak point. Ray resolved to turn over a new leaf to get full use of his hand back. "Just tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it."

Raines picked up a red ball. "Here. Squeeze this."

Ray remembered the ball trick. "Sure." He squeezed the best the could, but even he recognized pitiful. It didn't help when his wrist started to complain with sharp little stabs along the inside of his arm and the familiar deep, dull ache returned with a vengeance.

"I want you to start with squeezing it a few minutes four or five times a day. Your physical therapist will increase that each time you visit. You can set up the first appointment through my nurse. I'd say three times a week for the first two weeks. Then come back and I'll check your progress." Raines handed him a wrist brace. "I want you to wear this during the day and during any kind of physical activity. The bones are healed, but the tendons and muscles are still weak. You don't want to compound the problem by spraining it. You can take it off to bathe or sleep though."

"For how long?"

"Until you see me again. I'll let you know then. Put it on."

The flesh-colored brace fit against his palm, supporting his wrist with a hard metal piece curved against his skin. He pulled the Velcro straps tight across the top of his hand and around his wrist. He held out his arm for inspection. It sure as hell felt better than the damn cast ever did, light as a feather.

Raines nodded and then gave him a pink sheet of paper. "Good, now wear that, follow these exercises and instructions, see your PT, and come back in two weeks."

"We done here?"

"For now. Any questions?"

"You really think it'll come back all the way?"

"Depends on you, Ray. I've seen worse breaks, but not many. Most came back, good as new, some only had partial use of the hand. You're an active guy. It should be okay as long as you do what you're supposed to. I should warn you though, don't try to jump the gun and force it, don't over exercise it. That does more harm than good. Listen to your PT and if you have any questions, call me. For the pain, and there will be some once you start working those muscles again, you can use Motrin or some Tylenol. If it's not strong enough, let me know. For cramps, use the heat and massage."

"Sounds like fun."

"It's anything but fun, but you've been through this before, Ray."

"Not this bad."

"No, but you'll do fine."

"Am I okay to drive?"

"No speed trials, but yes, you should be okay for driving once you get a little better grip. Give it a few days and see how it goes."

"Sure. Thanks."

"Remember, moderation and good sense. Follow the instructions." Raines left with a smile and Ray sighed. Disappointed, he got off the table and reached for his leather jacket. He didn't have a cast anymore, but he didn't have a good hand, either, not yet.

Walking out, he made a quick appointment for the next day with the PT and then saw Fraser sitting in the waiting room talking to another patient, a young girl wearing a bright pink cast on her ankle. No more than fourteen, the girl looked totally smitten with Fraser, her eyes wide as she giggled and hung on every polite word. He knew the feeling.

Ray shook his head with a smile and went to rescue his partner from the clutches of a teenager with a crush on the best looking man in forever.

"We should get something to eat before your appointment with Dr. Barnes."

"I'm not hungry. Besides, I want to see Larry about the car."

"Shouldn't we call first?"

"He's open. Besides, I called last night. I told him we'd be stopping by this morning."

"I don't remember you making such a call."

Ray glanced sideways and frowned. "I'm supposed to clear all my calls with you now?"

"I didn't say that."

"Sounded like it."

Fraser stopped the borrowed Buick at the light, his hands on the wheel, his shoulders rigid. "Ray, I just meant, I didn't hear you make the call. It wasn't meant as an accusation."

"An accusation of what? Sneaking around? You think I'm sneaking around behind your back or something? You think I'm making secret phone calls?"

"Ray, this is a ridiculous conversation."

"Ridiculous? So now I'm ridiculous just because I get pissed off that you think I should screen my calls through you?" Fraser licked his lower lip and waited for the light to change. He didn't respond, so Ray pushed harder. "Fraser, I'm talking to you."

"Are you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not in the mood for arguing, Ray. I get tired, too."

Ray heard the simple and direct words, words that hit their mark. He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean all that shit."

Fraser risked a quick glance sideways and then moved with the traffic. "What's wrong? You've been ill-tempered ever since seeing Dr. Raines."

"Guess I'm disappointed."

"About having to wear the brace? You knew that was a strong possibility."

"Yeah, but I didn't expect my hand to be in such bad shape. I can hardly use it."

"But you will eventually. Having the cast off is a huge improvement."

"Yeah, I guess." Ray stared out the window as he unconsciously worked his fingers in and out of a fist. "Let's just go see the car."

"Are you allowed to drive yet?"

"I'm just going to look at it, Fraser. I'll pick it up later on. I need to get my grip back first."

"Right you are."

Within ten minutes, they pulled into the parking lot of Larry's Garage. Larry Mason, a big, burly guy with dark hair and brown eyes came out of the office smiling and wiping his hands on an oily cloth. "Ray, good to see you."

"Hey, Larry. How's the Goat?"

"Better than it was."

"Good as it was?"

"Getting there." Larry glanced over Ray's shoulder. "Who's the friend?"

"This is Constable Benton Fraser. He's my partner."

Larry stepped closer and held out a calloused hand. "Good to finally meet you, Constable. Ray here told me you were Canadian. Like it down here in the States?"

"I enjoy being here with Ray, yes."

Larry studied him briefly and then nodded approval. He motioned them toward the door of the garage with his head. "It's in here at the back. I've just finished some of the detailing. You didn't ask me to do it, but it just looked naked without it."

Ray closed his eyes and held his breath briefly before he braved the view of his beloved GTO. His eyes widened as he smiled with surprise. "Fuck me, Larry, it looks great."

"You like it?"

Stepping closer, Ray ran a hand lovingly along the smooth surface. "How many coats?"

"All six. Like I said, I've still got some more detailing to do, but she's road ready anytime you are."

"You must have spent the whole last two weeks doing nothing but this."

"Not really. The good part about having your own place is you get to boss other people into doing the grunt work, you know, repairs and boring shit. The primo stuff like this, well, I keep to myself." Larry touched the glossy, black hood with pride. "This one, she's a beauty. You ever want to sell her, you know where to come. I'd give her a good home."

"I couldn't sell her, Larry, but you've done a great job."

"Thanks. It helps to know she's with a friend. People who torched her should be shot."

Not really listening, Ray nodded, wanting to get behind the wheel so badly, he could almost taste it.

"Ray?"

"Yeah, Fraser?"

"The insurance check?"

"Oh, right, right." Ray came back down to earth. "I got the insurance check for the repairs. I have to deposit it and then I'll write you a check for whatever you need."

"That was fast."

"Well, my Lieutenant helped out with the paperwork before I left for Canada. Sped things up."

"Sounds good to me. Why don't you let me finish the detailing and you bring the check by to pick her up in a couple of days?"

"Good, good." Ray hesitated and then touched the GTO one more time. "You think I could just sit in it a minute, alone?"

Fraser and Larry exchanged knowing glances before Fraser spoke quietly. "Certainly, Ray." Fraser turned his attention to Ray's friend. "Larry, perhaps you could give me a tour of your business."

"Sure, Constable. Follow me."

Left alone, Ray climbed into the driver's seat, the smell of fresh paint strong, but not overwhelming. He settled in, both hands on the wheel, and closed his eyes. He imagined the first time he and his father drove this car together, how his father brought it back to him all the way from Arizona as an apology, as a peace offering. Dropping his head against the wheel, he took several deep breaths, pushed away the dark wave of self-pity and anger. He wanted to kick his dad in the head sometimes, knock some sense into him, but he didn't have a chance, not against his dad's narrow-minded ways. He knew that, accepted that, but it didn't make it easier.

Opening his eyes again, he blinked away the sting and stroked the steering wheel lovingly, knowing that soon he'd be on the road again, free to drive, to be alone on the road with Fraser. Fuck his father anyway.

Ray sat there several more minutes, clutching the steering wheel, struggling with the deep emotions swelling all through him. After a while, he took a deep breath and got out. He patted the roof of the car and then headed out to find Fraser.

His lover turned with a smile as he came up beside him. "Ready to go, Ray?"

"Yeah, in a minute." Ray held out a hand. "Thanks, Larry. You did a great job. I appreciate it. I don't think anyone else could've done it."

"You could've." Larry hesitated and stole a quick look at Fraser and then settled on Ray. "You know, if you ever decide to give up being a cop, you've always got a job here."

"What makes you think I'd give up being a cop?"

"I don't know. You got kind of busted up this last time and, well, being a cop in this day and age ain't exactly easy."

"You got that right."

"So, I'm just saying, you've got options. You and your partner here ever decide to get out of that whole cop thing, come see me."

"Thanks, Lar."

"You're welcome. Call me when you want to come by to pick her up."

"Sure."

Larry turned his attention back to Fraser. "Nice to meet you. Anybody who can put up with a lug like Ray's welcome here anytime."

"Thank you kindly."

Larry walked off and Ray scratched his head. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray."

"He knows."

"That would appear likely, yes."

"Jesus. He knows."

"He doesn't appear to have a problem with us being together."

Still puzzled, Ray walked to the car next to Fraser. "No, he doesn't."

"He's a good friend."

"Yeah, ever since high school, but I just didn't think he'd be okay with this." He got in the car and fastened his seatbelt. "Of course, he never did like Stella."

Fraser started the car and looked straight ahead, keeping his voice neutral. "Did he ever say why?"

"Said she didn't suit me."

"Smart man."

Ray shook his head. "Don't start."

"Just making an observation."

"Keep it up and I'll give you an obscene gesture to observe."

"Would that be the middle finger of the right or left hand, Ray?"

"You messing with me?"

Fraser smiled as he drove, keeping his eyes on the road but risking quick sidelong glances. "So it would seem."

Ray laughed for the first time that day. "Let's take a quick drive home and I'll show you what I can do with middle fingers."

Fraser liked to cuddle. Thank God for small favors.

Ray lay in his lover's arms, grateful for that, glad that they had another really great thing in common. Sleepy, Ray closed his eyes, wallowing all he could before Fraser would spoil it by being practical about appointments and doing stuff Ray would rather forget about.

"Ray?"

Ray didn't answer, just kept wallowing and ignoring his voice of reason.

"Ray?"

Sighing deeply, Ray finally answered. "What?"

"We need to get up. The appointment's in less than an hour and traffic gets quite heavy this time of day."

"I could cancel."

"Ray..."

"I know, I know. Still, I like just being here, you holding me. It's nice."

"Very nice."

"Terrific."

"Delightful."

"Fanfuckingtastic."

"I don't believe that's a word, Ray."

"You know what I mean, though, right?"

"Within the context of the conversation, I certainly derive your meaning."

"Good, because it is fanfuckingtastic. You make me feel really great, better than great. I have to make up words cause they don't make words to describe how great I feel right now."

"There does seem to be a lack of adequate verbal expression for the intensity of these extraordinary emotional reactions."

Ray nuzzled Frazer's neck and then nipped his ear. "That's what I'm saying."

"I must confess you make me feel quite fanfuckingtastic as well." A quick squeeze and a kiss punctuated Fraser's words.

"Say it again, just the fanfuckingtastic part."

Fraser smiled, his voice low and husky as he took time to say the word the way he knew Ray would enjoy hearing it. "Fanfuckingtastic."

"Oh, yeah, that's the way."

Ray captured Fraser's mouth, tongues wrestling, hot and slick as Fraser moaned. Fraser pulled back, his breathing more rapid. "Ray, we have to stop. We'll be late."

"We always have to wait anyway."

"Ray, please, it's not that I don't want to make love again, but you know how I feel about tardiness."

Reluctantly, Ray rolled away, his heart racing and his cock disappointed. He sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. "Yeah, yeah, I know tardiness is a huge thing for you, like it's some kind of black mark against your Mountie sainthood. I don't like being late, either, but I like kissing you more than waiting in some doctor's office, that's for damn sure."

A hand touched his back and Ray jerked away, standing quickly to move away from the bed. "Fuck. Don't do that."

Fraser sat up, frowning. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't. Just don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Touch me when I'm not ready."

Without waiting for Fraser's response, Ray hurried into the bathroom and shut the door. His hands shook as he turned on the taps to the shower. A knock came before Fraser appeared. "Ray, I'm truly sorry. I didn't think."

"It's okay. You shouldn't have to think." Ray closed the lid to the toilet and sat down, avoiding Fraser's worried stare. "I mean, we were in bed together and you touched me. I'm the one who freaked out, not you. It's not your fault you're in love with a head case."

"You're not a head case."

"I'm fucked up, Fraser. Face it." Ray rubbed his bare arms, not waiting for an argument. He took off his brace and then stood up. "I'm going to take a shower. You can join me if you want, but we might be late."

Fraser smiled and shrugged. "Perhaps if we wash one another, it'll save time."

"Not to mention, it'll be the first time I've got two free hands to scrub you with, my dear." Ray leered, holding up his hands as he wiggled his fingers. He might not be able to make a fist or turn his hand over, but he could do other things, loving things.

Together they got in the shower, facing one another, Ray's back to the water. The gold chains with their matching rings dangled around each man's neck. Ray run his finger along Fraser's chain and then leaned in, first to kiss the ring and then to lick his nipple. Soft moans rewarded his effort. "Oh, yeah, there's that Mountie love song I like so much."

A chuckle mixed with the sounds of pleasure as Fraser allowed Ray to do the work, sliding his hands all over his body, soaping up his cock, and then wrapping his hand around it, groaning deeper as Ray stroked him. Ray enjoyed the heat in his hand, Fraser's cock thick and throbbing as he increased the rhythm and pressure. It took only a matter of minutes to bring him off. Fraser nearly fell, but Ray had him pressed against the wall, supporting him, the hot spray of the shower steaming the air all around. "Don't fall on your ass there, Fraser."

"Dear God, Ray, what you do to me."

Ray kissed him again, deeper this time and then drew back, his words a raw whisper. "I love you, Benton Fraser."

"And I love you, too, Ray."

Standing straighter, Ray handed Fraser the soap and cloth. "Do my back."

Fraser frowned. "Ray..."

"I know. I know. I don't know if I can stand it, but I trust you and I want to try. I was thinking, maybe if you talked or sang something, it might help."

"What would you like me to sing?"

Ray swallowed hard and then turned away slowly, the shower hitting his chest. "That Inuit thing from the hospital. That was nice."

Fraser's rich voice filled the bathroom as he soaped the cloth and then gently made small circles on Ray's back, moving it slowly up along his shoulders. Ray closed his eyes, his chest tight, his mind trying to shift to another time, another hand hurting him there. He shook his head and whispered. "Not working, not working. Talk fast. Tell me a story."

Fraser's hand paused and then his gentle words began. "There once was a young detective with many faces, a very handsome man, who met a Mountie from Canada."

"And there was a wolf?"

"Yes, there was a wolf, a very fine wolf, who liked doughnuts."

"Yeah, yeah, keep going. Wolf have a name?"

The cloth continued washing across Ray's back as Fraser leaned in. "Diefenbaker."

"I know this story."

"I thought you might."

"This detective have experimental hair?"

"Very experimental, but it suited him greatly."

"And this Mountie, he's a good looking guy, right?"

"To the detective named Ray, yes." Ray relaxed as Fraser moved closer, rinsing him before leaning skin to skin, whispering, "And the Mountie loved the detective more than he could ever admit."

"So they danced around the whole love thing for how long?"

"Too long."

"Until when?"

"Until the Mountie came to his senses and confessed."

"Detectives love confessions."

Fraser stood behind him, his arms wrapped around his middle, his chin on his right shoulder. Ray trembled as Fraser's cock rested against his backside, stayed there, not moving, just touching. "And that pleased the Mountie very much."

"Thank God you told me." Ray lifted his right hand up behind his shoulder and cupped Fraser's face.

"Are you all right with this, me holding you like this?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." Ray closed his eyes again and drank in the solid warmth of Fraser's body against his, praying with all his heart that he could keep doing this without the panic that shimmered and shook just under his skin.

Dr. Barnes surprised him. "You look good, Ray. I'm pleased."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, your blood pressure's improved and your blood work looks even better. There's no sign of infection and the white cell count is completely normal. I have to admit that your chronic anemia had me worried, but it seems to be resolving itself. You're only borderline right now. I want you to keep taking the supplements and we'll test again in a few weeks."

"So, I'm good to go?"

"Limited duty for a while, but yes, I'd say you're good to go."

Ray frowned, not liking the sound of that limited duty stuff one little bit. "Define limited duty."

"Half days would be good for a couple of weeks, just until you get back into the routine of the job."

"A couple of weeks? You just said I looked good."

"You do, Ray, but that's considering how much you've improved over the last six weeks. Working half days for a while will give you time to adjust."

"Adjust? Adjust to what, paper cuts and sitting around on my ass?" Pissed, Ray shook his head, his voice angry and sharp. "Look, I'm on a fucking desk already until they get a shrink to clear me. I don't need this, too. I mean, how fucking hard can it be to ride a damn desk?"

"You'd be surprised how stressful it can be."

"So? I'm a cop. I'm used to stress. Give me a fucking break. Jesus."

Barnes kept his voice calm and his face annoyingly sympathetic. "Ray, I know you're anxious to get back to work, to get back to the familiar, but it's my professional opinion that you need to ease back in. Don't go back thinking it's all going to be the same, because it won't."

"I know it won't. I'll be stuck in the fucking station all day."

"You're angry."

Ray ran a hand through his hair, refusing to look up, wanting more than anything to be gone. "I don't need this. I'm okay to do the job."

"If you were okay for the job, you wouldn't be so upset."

"How do you figure?"

"You're on edge. You've got the psychological review pending and physical therapy on top of that. You don't need the added pressure of working all day, too. Give yourself a break. It's going to be rough enough dealing with all the other aspects of your recovery."

"Let me worry about the shrink part." Ray swallowed hard, working to keep his voice steady. "Don't do this. I need to work."

Barnes put the file down on the table and leaned back, his arms crossed and his face serious. "You need to give yourself more time."

"Says you."

"Yes, says me and quite a few other people who know about trauma. Yours was a particularly brutal attack. Going back too soon, forcing yourself to deal with things too quickly, could be just as disastrous as avoiding it all together."

"Disastrous how? You think I'm going to fall apart, do something stupid?"

"I didn't say that. I'm just concerned that you might push yourself too hard. That can lead to errors in judgment."

"You mean fuck ups."

"I mean mistakes, mistakes that might not happen if you're rested and less distracted."

Ray got off the table and grabbed his pants and shirt. He shook his head as he dressed. "I don't believe this. I don't fucking believe this."

"Ray, it's for the best and it's only for a few weeks."

Ray stopped and turned, his blue eyes intense, his gut clenched. "Look, I've already been off for six weeks. It's time to move on, to get back into the swing of things. I'm a cop, not some desk jockey, some guy who can't handle what comes along."

"Nobody's implying that you can't handle things, Ray. I'm just saying you're being too impatient with yourself." Barnes never looked away. "Trust me on this. You need the time to deal with what's happened."

Muscles tight and bunched, Ray sat on the stool and pulled on his boots. The whole world narrowed around him. "You don't know shit about me. I am dealing with what happened."

"You don't even remember everything that happened, Ray. You're not ready to go back to work full time. I'm sorry you're angry, but your reaction just confirms my belief that you need more time off."

Ray stood up, glared at Barnes and grabbed his jacket. "We done?"

"I'll see you back in two weeks. Make an appointment. If you do okay until then, I'll sign off on going back full time."

Not bothering to reply, Ray stormed out of the room. He stopped at the nurse's desk to make the appointment, his head pounding, his hands fisted. She gave him the card with an irritating smile and he headed out, waving a quick hand at Fraser. He didn't wait, just headed for the elevator and kept banging the button.

"Fucking elevator."

"Ray."

"I don't want to talk. I just want to get the fuck out of here."

Fraser stood very still, watching, but not interfering with Ray's futile attempts to get the elevator to come faster. When it finally dinged open, Ray stepped into the empty interior and Fraser followed. Leaning back, hands spread across the rail, Ray closed his eyes. "Prick."

"Me or Dr. Barnes?"

"Not you."

"Ah."

"Don't even start with the ahhing, Fraser. I'm in no mood."

"I can see that."

Ray took a long breath, clenched his jaw a few times and then stood straighter, his arms wrapped across his middle. He slouched against the wall and they both waited in silence until they reached the first floor. Ray hurried out, his boots clicking on the hard concrete, and then pulled up his collar against the wind. By the time they got to the Buick, he stopped and waited for Fraser to unlock the car. As Fraser put the key in the lock, Ray touched his arm. "Sorry."

Fraser nodded, met his gaze, but didn't say anything. Instead, he moved to the driver's side and waited until Ray climbed in beside him. His face grim, his voice shook. "Ray, what happened? Are you ill?"

Suddenly realizing what Fraser must think, Ray reached over. "No, I'm fine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Thank God, but if you're well, why are you so angry?"

"Barnes. The son of a bitch doesn't think I'm ready to go back to work."

"He's keeping you on medical leave?"

"Half days."

Fraser relaxed. "Ray, that's not unexpected."

"I'm ready. I don't need some half-assed doctor telling me I'm still too fucked up to work, especially when all I'm doing is sitting at a desk anyway. It's stupid."

"I can understand your frustration."

"You don't know what it's like to have everyone walking on eggshells, whispering behind your back that you're screwed up, that you can't be trusted to do the job."

"Actually, I do know what that's like."

Ray paused his rant and turned sideways to stare. "Yeah?"

"After Ray shot me, there was a rather long period of awkwardness. People knew what had happened, how I'd endangered my partner's career and my own life because of my infatuation with a woman. In was the most difficult time in my relationship with Ray Vecchio, but it was also very trying to deal with the others as well."

"So you get why this is so important to me, why I need to go back strong, show people I haven't lost my edge."

"I do, but I also have to agree that Dr. Barnes has a valid point."

Ray banged the dashboard with his fist. "Don't do that, Fraser, don't fucking do that. Don't take his side."

"I'm not taking his side, Ray. I'm always on your side. I just think going back to duty full time right now with the other obligations you have might be a bit too arduous. You need to be more patient with yourself."

"That's what Barnes said."

"He's right."

"Fuck."

"I'm sorry."

Ray held a hand to his mouth as he bit a thumbnail, his eyes closed briefly before he finally breathed again. "Don't be. You're honest. I respect that. Let's just go home."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Dief's been pinned up all afternoon."

"Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to make a brief stop at the Consulate."

"What for?"

"I need to pick up some papers from Turnbull."

"Sure, fine, whatever." Fraser started the engine before Ray asked, "What kind of papers?"

"Constable Turnbull has been kind enough to make me a summary of the events that have occurred in my absence."

"Sort of an update, huh?"

"Exactly."

"Official or unofficial?"

"Unofficial." Ray chuckled as he straightened up in his seat. "What so amusing?"

"I was just wondering if you're really ready for the world according to Turnbull."

Fraser smiled and shrugged. "I don't think anyone is truly ready for that rather unique point of view."

"Okay, so we're going to see Turnbull and then go home and get Dief."

"Get Dief?"

"Yeah, I want to go for a walk in the park or around the block or something. I need to just do something."

Fraser nodded in approval. "Right you are. Perhaps you could take your camera."

Ray glanced over at Fraser, more calm, more in control of his runaway frustration. "Yeah, yeah, I think that's a good idea. I'd like to get some shots of you and Furface playing in the snow. When we get done, we can order Chinese. We haven't had any good Chinese for weeks."

"That's an excellent idea, Ray."

"Good, all settled. Let's go rib Turnbull."

"Rib?"

"You know joke with, tease, pull his leg."

"Oh, I see."

"Yeah, I got a ton of curling stuff to throw at him. I've been saving up. He loves when I do that."

"As long as it's good-natured, I see no harm."

Ray frowned and studied Fraser's suddenly serious features. "What? You think I'd really try to hurt the guy's feelings?"

"Not intentionally, no. But you have to remember, Turnbull does have feelings for you."

"That's history, Fraser. He knows we're together."

"Even though that's true, he still makes a vulnerable target. I'm just saying we should endeavor to be careful not to go too far in our efforts to rib Turnbull."

"We aren't ribbing Turnbull. I am. And I won't hurt his feelings, promise. Jeez. I mean, I like the guy. I only mess with people I like."

"Does that include Dewey then?"

"Dewey and other assholes don't count. They're too easy. It's not the same thing."

"I must confess I don't see the difference."

"That's because you're Canadian." He said it as though that explained everything and for Ray, it did. "You guys are too polite, always worried that the other guy will take things the wrong way. It's not really your fault though. We were raised to rag on each other. The person who ragged the best, got to be king."

"King?"

"Yeah, leader of the pack, the guy who calls the shots. And if not that, they at least left you alone if you gave as good as you got, which I almost always did. Anyway, don't worry. I'll take it easy on him."

Fraser still looked lost, but he nodded. "Thank you, Ray."

"You're welcome." Ray looked out the window, not really seeing all the buildings going by, thinking of what it must have been like for Fraser as a boy. "You know, I never really thought about it much, but it would be kind of hard coming here and dealing with that kind of thing if you weren't used to it."

"Canadian sensibilities do seem rather different from American in many ways."

"Oh, yeah, you could say that." Ray sighed and turned his attention back to Fraser. "Maybe if I'd grown up there, I wouldn't have such an attitude most of the time."

"But you wouldn't be you, Ray."

Ray snorted. "Good point."

"And, quite frankly, I like who you are."

"Even the bad stuff, you know, like the shit I pull sometimes, shooting my mouth off without thinking, the pig-headedness, the temper?"

"Those traits blended with your good qualities make you the wonderful man I love."

Ray flushed red and pursed his lips into a small, self-conscious smile. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Mushy much?"

"Every chance I get."

Ray didn't answer right away, but smiled and then finally took in enough air to speak quietly. "I love you, too."

"I know."

Later that night, Ray sat at the table drinking coffee while Fraser cleaned up the dishes he insisted they use even with take out. Ray thought it defeated the whole point of not cooking in the first place, but if it pleased Fraser to use real plates, so what? The unexpected knock at the door surprised him. He looked up at Fraser. "We expecting anybody?"

"I don't think so."

Ray got up and stepped to the door, checked the peep hole, and then mouthed Welsh to Fraser. He opened the door with a smile. "Hey, Lieutenant. Long time, no see."

"Detective." Welsh stood with his hands in his pockets as he looked over Ray's shoulder to see Fraser. "Constable."

"Good to see you, Lieutenant."

Ray pulled the door open more. "Come in."

Welsh walked inside and then shrugged off his coat, handing it to Ray. "Wanted to stop by and thank you gentlemen for the wallet. Ms. Vecchio brought it by this morning. It's nice to get a gift one actually needs for a change. Thank you."

Fraser stepped from the kitchen, drying his hands. "You're very welcome. We would've delivered it ourselves, sir, but Ray had blood tests and doctor's appointments most of the day."

Welsh turned and stared at Ray with a smile. "You look good, Detective, much better than before."

Ray held up his left arm, the brace in place. "Losing a ton of plaster helps."

"I can see how it would. May I sit down?"

"Sure, sure. Have a seat. Want some coffee? Just made some fresh."

"Thanks, but I've had a couple of pots already. Think I'll skip it for now."

Welsh settled in the chair opposite the sofa as Ray and Fraser sat down on the couch. Nervous, Ray's right leg bounced a lot faster than usual. "So, things going okay down at the station?"

"As well as can be expected when we're a couple of guys down."

"I'm coming back on Monday, but just half days."

"So I heard."

"Barnes called you already?"

"Actually, I called him. I knew you were due to be checked out and released. I figured if I waited for a call from a doctor, even a good one, I'd be waiting all day. The guy says he thinks you should go half days until you get the physical therapy and psych review done."

"I argued the point."

"I can imagine." Welsh met his eyes, his bulldog face unhappy. "Look, I'm not thrilled with the idea of you being at a desk. You're my best man, especially with Constable Fraser by your side. Still, it won't do either of us any good if you come on board too hard and too fast and then burn out. Besides, you have to get that review done and that's another reason why I'm here. I need to know if you've made the appointment to get started."

Throat dry, Ray shook his head. "I looked over the names, but I haven't called anybody yet."

"I thought that might be the case." Welsh reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. He handed it to Ray. "I took the liberty of setting up an appointment first thing tomorrow."

Ray took the card, his hand shaking. "Elizabeth Collier?"

"I have an old friend, a real hard case like you, who went to her after he lost his daughter. She specializes in grief and trauma cases. She's good. I think you'll like her. If not, then you can go with someone else, but the longer it takes for you to accept that you have to do this, the longer you're at a desk and I'm short my best man and his partner."

"I was going to get around to it."

"I'm sure you were. I just expedited the process. I've already had Reese send her your files."

Ray closed his eyes, dreading the whole thing. "I hate this."

"It's procedure. We're creatures of the system. You want to stay on the job, you do it. It's that simple."

"Yeah, right."

Welsh leaned in. "Look, Ray, if were up to me, I'd put you back on the job tomorrow. I think you're the kind of guy who beats his head against the wall more if he's forced to do something than if he's allowed to set his own pace, but it's not my call. Do this. Get it over with. Come back to work full time."

"That simple?"

Welsh snorted and stood up. "Nothing's that simple. Wish it were." He nodded at Fraser. "Good job taking care of him."

"Thank you, sir. He takes care of me as well."

"Are you going to be staying on here a while?"

"As long as he needs me."

Ray jumped in, his voice challenging. "Is that going to be a problem, sir?"

Welsh's eyes narrowed briefly at Ray and then he turned his attention back to Fraser. "You still get your mail at the Consulate?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then there's no problem I can see. Keep a low profile and it's nobody's business where you sleep. Just keep in mind you work with cops."

Ray scowled. "Nosy Parkers."

"Very nosy Parkers." Welsh thumbed his nose to show he sided with Ray on the issue of living together in secret. "With your undercover experience, it should be fine. Once this Vecchio thing is over, you can do what you want."

"Yes, sir." Ray glanced over at Fraser and smiled.

"See the doctor tomorrow morning and me first thing on Monday. I'll get you back up to speed on some of the cases you've missed. You can schedule your PT and counseling sessions in the afternoons."

"Thanks, Lieutenant."

"Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen the cases. To say we've missed your acumen at resolving your caseload would be an understatement."

"Huey and Dewey falling down on the job?"

"Let's just say, any insights you might have within the confines of your limited duty would be appreciated."

"Sure thing."

Welsh got his coat and then turned back in the doorway. "Good luck, gentlemen."

"Good night, sir." Fraser shut the door and then turned to Ray. "I'm relieved that he approves."

"You think he approves?"

"I think it apparent that he had no problem with us being together save how it affects your job."

"Exactly. That doesn't mean he approves, just that he doesn't disapprove."

"You think he takes a neutral position?"

"Seems like."

"He could easily cause us both problems and he doesn't do that."

"Because it would mess up the job." Ray went to the table and got his mug, filling it with fresh hot coffee. He added some chocolate candies and stirred.

"I think you underestimate his affection for you."

Ray looked up, puzzled. "Affection?"

"Surely you realize that he's rather fond of you, Ray. I've rarely met a commanding officer who would go to the lengths that Lieutenant Welsh does to protect you."

"So his bark is worse than his bite, huh?"

"Most definitely."

"Yeah, I get that. I just don't want to get too overconfident and think we're safe. You heard what he said about being creatures of the system."

"Indeed I did, but I don't see your point."

"My point is, we can't be too careful. Right now there are only a handful of people in town who know. We need to keep it that way."

Fraser frowned, but nodded. He came to stand by Ray, his face serious. "Do you think Stella and your parents can be trusted to keep this information secret?"

"Who are they going to tell? My dad sure won't say anything. He doesn't want people to know he's got a fag for a son. My mom told the priest, but I can't see her telling too many others. As for Stella, she's hurt, but she's a good lawyer. She knows we're on assignment, so she won't jeopardize that."

"And Turnbull certainly knows how to be discreet."

Ray smiled. "Yeah, I didn't even have a clue he was gay."

"And seeing someone, apparently."

Ray stared at Fraser. "You're kidding. Who?"

"I shouldn't say."

"Why not? Did he tell you?"

"He mentioned him, yes."

"When I was in the can, right? Damn. I miss all the good stuff. So, who is it?" Ray held up a hand. "Wait a minute. Let me guess. Is it someone I know?"

"I don't think so, no."

"Okay, then who?"

"Apparently there was a visitor at the Consulate who fainted and needed emergency assistance."

"And Turnbull fell for the guy?"

"Not the visitor, no. However, he has been dating the emergency technician who arrived on the scene."

Ray laughed and shook his head. "And Turnbull made the first move?"

"Not at all. It was the technician who called back and eventually asked Turnbull to go out to dinner and on several dates since then. He seems quite taken by the man."

"What's his name?"

"Peter Pulaski."

"Pulaski? He's Polish?"

"And quite fetching according to Turnbull."

"Fetching?"

"Blond hair, blue eyes, tall and slender."

"Oh, man, that sounds like..."

"You."

"Yeah, like me."

"You don't think that he's..."

"He's what, Ray, trying to find a substitute for you?"

"Well, yeah, maybe."

Fraser crossed his arms and leaned back, matching his posture to Ray's. "It's possible, but then again, he might just have a particular physical type he finds attractive."

"Which is someone like me?"

"Yes, like you."

"That bother you?"

Fraser turned his head, a smile curling his lips. "Not in the least."

"Cocky Canadian, huh?"

Fraser laughed, removed Ray's mug from his hands, and then kissed him, showing him just how cocky a Canadian could be.

Ray stared into the mirror, fingering the scar across his throat. No longer bright red, it still stood out, still made an impression. He swallowed hard and then looked down at his bare chest. Another scar lay between his nipples and still two others across his belly. Standing back, he once again checked out the worst of the bunch, the one along his inner thigh. Deep, jagged, and just barely healing, he didn't want to think of more surgery to fix it. Still, he wanted his leg to be strong again so he wouldn't be limping off and on for the rest of his life.

Sighing, he pulled on his jeans and then his T-shirt. He patted the gold chain and ring just under the cloth before he put on his flannel shirt and buttoned up. He rubbed his eyes and took one more hard look in the mirror. Despite all the time off, his reflection still came back pale and haggard. He shook his head in frustration and then headed back to the bedroom. Fraser glanced up from polishing his right boot. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You didn't sleep well."

"Nothing new."

"Ray..."

"Just cut it out, Fraser. I'm fine." Reaching into the top drawer of his chest, he pulled out his holster and strap. Then he got his gun box.

Fraser stood up and moved to his side. "Ray, you don't need your gun to go to the doctor."

"I'm still a cop. I wear my gun whenever I leave the apartment from now on."

Fraser remained silent, but he didn't move away as Ray slipped on his holster, adjusted the strap, and then loaded his gun before putting it under his arm. It belonged there, the weight familiar, but strange at the same time. "It feels weird."

"How so?"

"I haven't worn it for a long time. Guess I've got to get used to the weight again."

"Wearing your gun right now might be a bit premature. You don't actually report for duty until next week."

Ray turned, Fraser only a few inches away. "You telling me you want me to take it off?"

"That's up to you.'

"Exactly my point." Ray walked away and sat on the edge of the bed. He put his boots on and then sighed as Fraser just stood there watching. "Look, I know you don't like it, but I'm back in Chicago now. I want to feel normal again."

"And wearing a gun makes you feel more normal?"

"Yeah, yeah, it does. I've been a cop for a long time and packing heat, I don't know, it always made me feel a little safer."

"You realize that, in fact, it puts you in more danger."

"Not when I come up against some armed scumbag on crack with a beef against whoever steps between him and his next fix. At least this way, the odds will be even." Before Fraser could speak, Ray held up a staying hand. "Look, I know you don't want me to wear it, but I want to, so let it go."

"As you wish." Fraser sat next to him on the bed and put on his own boots, lacing them up carefully.

"So, when's your next appointment with Reese?"

"This afternoon. I thought I'd go when you're in physical therapy. The buildings are only a few blocks apart."

"You don't have to go with me to see Collier this morning."

"I want to."

"Look, you don't have much time left on your leave. It's not like you've had much of a vacation. Do something for yourself for a change instead of trying to take care of me."

Fraser didn't even bother to look up. "Being with you is doing something for myself."

"You'll just be stuck in the office waiting."

Fraser finally finished the boot and met Ray's eyes. "Don't you want me there?"

"Sure I want you there."

"If you wish to do this on your own, I'd understand."

Fraser said the words, but Ray knew the tone too well to be fooled. "No you wouldn't. You'd be hurt." Ray reached out and caressed Fraser's face, the hard line of his jaw pressed into his palm. "I just don't want you to be bored."

"I wait better than you do, Ray."

"You've got that right. I'd go crazy if I spent as much time waiting around like you've done lately." His voice softened. "I appreciate it, though."

Fraser's hand reached up and captured Ray's on his cheek, holding it in place. "Then you really want me to be there?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Good." Leaning in, Fraser kissed him briefly and pulled back. "You'll be fine. Perhaps this Dr. Collier will be more to your liking than Dr. Reese."

"Yeah, maybe. Speaking of Reese, I heard you doing your morning list of affirmation thingies. You're doing better."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. You still stutter over it, but it seems to be smoother."

"I don't stutter."

"Hesitate then."

Fraser shrugged and then stood to get his Stetson. "I still find the exercise a bit disconcerting."

"I don't blame you. Hope this Collier lady doesn't want me to do that stuff."

"Even if she suggests it, it's only that, Ray, a suggestion. You make your own choices in therapy."

Ray stood up and straightened Fraser's hat. "Yeah, that's what they want you to think, that it's all your idea, but in reality, they're manipulating the whole shebang."

"That's a very cynical attitude, Ray."

Ray talked over his shoulder as he headed out to the living room, Fraser right behind him. "Yeah, well, it's been my experience that most of these shrink guys just want you to sing and dance and put on a good show."

"That doesn't sound very helpful."

"It's not. It's a waste of time."

"For you, perhaps."

Ray paused at the hurt tone and turned. "Yeah, for me, not for you. You want to work with Reese, and if it works for you, I think that's great. I'm just shooting my mouth off. Don't mind me."

Fraser opened the closet door, handed Ray his leather jacket and then got his own. "I hope that you have a better experience with this new doctor, Ray."

"You and me both."

"Sit down, Detective."

"I'd rather stand if that's okay."

"Certainly." The woman behind the desk reminded him of Mrs. Olszewski, his fifth grade reading teacher. Of course, Mrs. Olszewski always wore old-timey, Ben Franklin reading glasses, a bun, and big flowery print dresses, and this lady didn't look a thing like that. Still, Dr. Collier had the same kind, blue eyes, the same crinkles at the edge of her full mouth that showed she smiled a lot. In her late forties, she wore a sable brown suit and her light brown hair in short layers. She had small, delicate ears, pierced with pearl earrings. Her hands, however, were long and slender, like a piano player's hands, and she wore a gold wedding ring. Ray catalogued the medium build, average height, Polish or German descent. Even now, his cop skills wouldn't shut off. The woman made him jumpy as hell.

"So, you got all the stuff from Dr. Reese?"

"Yes, I did, thank you. However, while I've read the background report about you and your attacks, I prefer to make my own observations and not be biased by previous interviews."

"You want to do your own thing."

"Exactly."

"I get that. It's like coming in on a new case. You read the facts, but do new interviews so you can get a fresh start."

"Good analogy. Why don't we start by my asking if I may call you Ray?"

"Sure, that's fine."

"Thank you." She sat back, her hands free, not holding a pen to take notes, but her eyes watching his every move. "Ray, how are you feeling right now?"

"Nervous."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"I asked first."

"I want to go back to work. The higher ups say I have to get cleared by a shrink first. Giving someone that much power makes me nervous."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yes, I like it when my clients are honest."

"It'd be kind of dumb to go through all this trouble and lie about it."

"You'd be surprised at the number of people who do it."

"Not really. People lie about everything."

Dr. Collier kept her voice steady. "And what do you lie about, Ray?"

"I try not to."

She pressed harder. "But when you do, what do you lie about?"

Ray swallowed hard and settled into the seat in front of her desk. He studied his hands. "You know I'm undercover, right?"

"Yes."

"So my whole life feels like a lie sometimes."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Lousy."

"I read that there was some debate about whether you were ready for this assignment so soon after the first attack. How do you feel about that? Do you think you were ready?"

Ray sat back and realized how she studied him, how she watched every movement, every nervous tick. She could've been a cop, a good one. "I thought I was ready at the time, yeah."

"And now?"

"Now, I think I probably should've waited."

"Why the change of heart?"

Mouth dry, Ray swallowed hard before he could speak. "I guess I'm thinking it's hard pretending to be somebody else when I have enough trouble keeping track of who I really am."

Collier moved forward a little, her hands together on the desk. "Can you explain what you mean by that?"

"You ever counsel undercover guys before?"

"Some."

"Then you know that sometimes the line between who you're supposed to be and who you really are gets blurred. That's when they're supposed to pull you from the op, but that doesn't always happen. Right now the guy I'm protecting, he'd be in a hell of a lot of danger if I pulled out. So I stay under even though it's really hard because I can't do some of the things I'd like to do if it were just me being me."

"Like what? What would you do that you can't do now?"

The question sounded like a test. How true could he be? He decided to gamble. "For one, I'd tell everyone I'm married to my partner."

"Your partner? Isn't he Canadian?"

"Yeah, it's a mixed marriage." Collier had a genuine smile, not a fake one, not something for show. Ray liked that so he added, "I want to tell everybody the truth, but I can't, not as long as I'm not who I am."

"That's must be frustrating."

"And confusing. It's like I live two lives. One's hard enough, two's murder."

"Has it been worse since the attack?"

Ray wanted to shut down, go in a different direction. "I don't want to talk about that yet."

"All right. So, tell me about your partner."

The lack of an argument, the struggle for control of the session, surprised him. He relaxed slightly and talked about the man he loved. He could do that, no problem. "Fraser's the best man I know. He's kind and honest, smart and good-looking. He loves to be needed, and Lord knows, I've needed that the last few weeks. Plus, he's got this really quirky sense of humor, which most people don't know about. Of course, that's probably because he doesn't show it to most people. He tends to put on this big front, to hide behind this super polite image of this guy who's just there to please people. I'm not saying he's dishonest about it, but he just doesn't always let people get close. Sure, they see the sweet guy in the bright red Mountie suit, but they don't see the real guy. I used to think that was because they didn't bother to look, and sometimes that's true, but it's more than that. Fraser keeps a lot to himself, more than I ever thought. He's got layers, dark layers, but that just makes him someone who understands more about what I'm going through." Ray took a deep breath. "I never thought I'd ever love somebody as much as I do Fraser."

"Is the relationship new between you?"

"Yeah, for me, not for Fraser. He says he's loved me since I first started the assignment. I was a little slow on the pick up."

"Why do you suppose that was?"

"Well, there was Stella."

"Stella?"

"My ex-wife. We're divorced but for a while there, I couldn't let go. When I finally did, I got distracted by this whole business with...with the guy who attacked me."

"Michael Clooney?"

"Yeah, him. I knew he'd come after me again, or try to, but I didn't tell anybody about his calls. Maybe if I had, well, who knows?"

"Are you saying you blame yourself for the second attack?"

"No, I'm just saying, I should've done stuff different. I fucked up and bad things happened." Ray leaned forward, suddenly dizzy. "I don't want to talk about that."

"It's okay, Ray. You don't have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable." Ray didn't answer right away, so she added, "Tell me about your partner some more. You said he had dark layers that helped him understand your situation. What exactly do you mean by that?"

Ray got up and walked to the window, his arms wrapped around his chest. Staring out, he saw the dirty snow, the crowded streets below, and missed the open whiteness of Canada. "You have to understand how he was brought up. His mom was murdered when he was six and his grandparents raised him. They were old and had standoffish ways, so he never really felt loved, not really. His dad was some bigwig Mountie and Fraser lived in his shadow his whole life. Then his dad was murdered, too, and that's how Fraser came to Chicago in the first place. He found the killers, but they turned out to be even bigger bigwigs in the Canadian government. Fraser got stuck here, sort of banished from the country he loves for doing his job and doing it a hell of a lot better than those assholes in charge. Still, it was lucky for me, because he wouldn't be my partner if he wasn't stuck here instead of where he belongs up in the Northwest Territories."

"Do you think he feels ostracized?"

"You mean black-balled, shut out, not allowed to play any reindeer games? Yeah, probably, but he doesn't talk about it, not really. I think he's been pretty much alienated all his life, the only white kid in the village, the kid with no mom, the kid who knew too much and had zero social skills. He never fit in until he found Vecchio."

"Vecchio? Isn't that the name of the detective that you're..."

"Pretending to be. Yeah, that's me. He almost passed out when he came back from a vacation and found the other Ray gone. Vecchio was his best friend, his only real friend, except Dief."

"Dief?"

"Diefenbaker, his half wolf/half dog."

"Your partner has a wolf?"

"We have a wolf. He's ours now."

Nodding, Collier sat back, her eyes a bit more narrow, her voice more direct. "Were your partner and Detective Vecchio more than friends?"

"Why is that important?"

"It's not unless it's important to you."

"They weren't and it's not. There have been other men in his life, not many, but a few, and a woman, too. I had Stella, that's it. Neither one of us has a ton of experience. It works between us though. It feels right."

"And it bothers you to have to keep this relationship secret?"

"Yeah, it does. It's like I'm not being true to how much he means to me. But for now, I'm stuck with it. I can't let anything happen to another cop because I fell in love with the cop's best friend and partner."

"But you do plan to tell people once the assignment is over?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think you'll be comfortable with that?"

Ray looked away from the window, his arms still crossed. "I don't know. Depends on how bad it gets. I figure if it gets too bad, I'll quit and do something else."

"Like what?"

"Don't know. I can work on cars or take pictures."

"Take pictures?"

Ray relaxed a little bit and then moved back to the chair. He rubbed his cold right hand on his thigh and held his achy left arm against his chest. "Up in Canada, I took some shots. A local photographer said I had a good eye. I thought I might give it a try if Fraser gets transferred back. I don't want him having to support me."

"It's good to have options, but what about your career as a police officer? You have three citations for bravery and an excellent record. Do you want to give that up?"

"No, I like being a cop, at least most of the time. It's something I'm good at, but things change. I'm not going to hang around if people think I can't do the job because I'm queer or because I'm too fucked up because of what happened. As much as I'd like to think I can do the job on my own, that's bullshit. It's teamwork. If the team loses faith, there's no point in sticking around getting my ass kicked and maybe getting someone else hurt because they don't trust me."

"If you were to go back today, would they be able to trust you to do the job?"

Startled, Ray sat up straight. "What?"

"I said..."

"I heard what you said. Are you asking me if they could trust me to be a good cop?"

"Under normal circumstances I know you're a good police officer, Ray, but could you be one right now, today?"

Ray didn't want to answer, didn't want to say it out loud, but he had to. "No, not today."

"Why not?"

Closing his eyes, Ray shook his head. "I get too angry, too pissed at little things. I want to crawl out of my skin over stupid shit. I keep getting distracted."

"By what?"

Barely able to form the words, his gut clenched tight, Ray kept his eyes closed. "I was raped."

They made it all the way home before Fraser started in. "Ray, what happened?"

Ray sat on the sofa, flipping the pages of his Canadian album of photos. His eyes puffy, his vision still a little blurry, he stopped and patted the cushion beside him. "Sit down." Fraser sat and turned to watch him, his lips thinned with worry. Ray took his hand and squeezed assurance, but didn't say anything.

"Ray, please, you been acting strangely since we left the office. Are you all right? "

"No, not really, but I will be."

"Can you talk about what happened at the doctor's office?"

Ray closed the book on his lap and put it back on the coffee table. Still holding Fraser's hand, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. "When I was eleven I knew this girl at school named Janie Olshanski. She was a sweet kid, kind of plain, but good-hearted, the kind of girl who'd do anything for you, you know? Sometimes when my dad was laid off, I didn't have money for lunch and I'd blow it off, try to say I was too cool to eat, and Janie, Janie she'd give me some of hers. She'd do it so it looked like just a friend thing, nothing big, just enough so I wouldn't be hungry. She used to help me study for English tests, too. She was smart, too, or at least a lot smarter than me."

"Ray..."

"No, Fraser, let me finish. There's a point here somewhere. Anyway, this was before Stella, so we hung out, me, and Janie and some others. One day she didn't come to school. That was weird because Janie never missed school, never. Then she missed the next day, too, and it got around that she'd been messed with. Now, I was just a kid. I knew messed with meant something bad, but I wasn't really sure what and I didn't want to talk to my dad about it, so I asked my mom." Ray paused, the memory of his mother's fearful and embarrassed reaction vivid in his mind.

"What did she tell you?"

"She didn't. She just said it was something decent people didn't talk about. That I was supposed to stay away from people like the Olshanskis."

"Oh, dear."

"Yeah, well, I was a pig-headed little shit even then, so I kept at it, not with my mom, but asking around. I got all kinds of answers from the other kids, stupid answers and scary ones, too. I heard she'd been fucking her dad. Get that, Fraser, like it was her fault when she was only eleven. Turned out her aunt was visiting one night and caught the old man sneaking into her room. Aunt called the cops, caused a scandal, caused the whole family to get a bad name. I mean, Jesus, Fraser, here's a kid who's been fucked over by her own father and everybody's worried about the reputation of the family."

"It's deplorable, Ray, but you've seen it happen before in your work as a police officer."

"Oh, yeah, blame the victim, I've seen it. Been there, done that. Got the scars to prove it."

"Whatever happened to Janie?"

Ray's voice choked. "She came back to school, but not for long. I tried to talk to her, but she was seriously fucked up, Fraser. She ended up sleeping around and got pregnant. She lost the baby and then she killed herself."

"I'm very sorry, Ray."

"Yeah, me, too. When I first became a cop, the hardest cases were the child abuse cases, but right after that were the sexual assaults. They call them sexual assaults, but it's never about sex. It's about power, about humiliation, about making somebody feel like shit and using a dick to do it."

Fraser squeezed Ray's hand. "Ray, what happened at the doctor's office?"

"I guess I finally realized that everybody's right, that I'm not ready to go back full time, never really was, not since before I started this whole Vecchio thing. Sure, I did some good work, but I'm not top form." Ray swallowed hard and lifted his head to meet Fraser's concerned gaze. "I was raped, Fraser. I never really wanted to face that. Turner covered it up and at the time, I thought he was doing me a favor, so I went along with it, glad it got pushed under the rug. It was the worse thing either of us could've done. I needed to deal with it then and I didn't. Now, it's like I've been hit by a fucking two by four right between the eyes, blindsided with all kinds of shit that keeps showing up in my head when I least expect it. How can I be a good street cop when I keep getting sucker punched by all this shit that I'm still so pissed about?"

"You realized all this today in your session?"

"Yeah, sort of, not really. It's been building up. It just came out today where I could put words to it, face it, make it something I could deal with."

"And can you deal with it now?"

"I think so. I like this Dr. Collier. She reminds me of my favorite teacher, the one who taught me how to read when nobody else could, Mrs. Olszewski. Anyway, she lets me go at my own speed, doesn't push too hard. I can handle that."

Fraser relaxed and drew Ray into his arms, Ray's head against his chest. "You had me very worried. You came out of the office obviously disturbed and wouldn't talk."

"You mean, I'd been bawling my eyes out, yeah, I know. Sorry." Ray closed his eyes again and sighed. "I think it just hit me all at once, the real deal, the fact that it really happened. It wasn't just some bad dream that keeps coming back."

"But you're safe now."

"Yeah, yeah, I keep telling myself that."

"What can I do to help?"

Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser's middle and hugged harder. "You're doing it, every day, every hour, every damn minute." Ray whispered, "Take me to bed."

"Ray..."

"Not for sex, just to hold me. I need to sleep for a few hours and I need you to be there."

"I'll be there whenever you need me, Ray."

"I know that, Fraser. I know that."

Fraser got up and pulled Ray to his feet, leading him to the bedroom and leaving Dief to fend for himself. Once there, Ray sat on the edge of the bed. He slipped off his gun and holster and handed it to Fraser. "Put that away for me."

"With pleasure." Efficiently, Fraser stored his gun away in the lockbox and then returned to kneel at Ray's feet to help him take off his boots.

"You don't have to do that, Frase."

"I like being at your feet, Ray."

"You're a strange man, Benton Fraser."

After Fraser slipped off Ray's boots, he moved to sit beside him, cupping his face, running a finger along his lips. "I'm your man, Ray Kowalski, always." Then he kissed him, sweetly and tenderly, the promise as pure as the gold rings they both wore.

Ray pulled back, his eyes searching Fraser's handsome face. "You know I'm yours, too, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Then we're good?"

"Beyond good, Ray."

"Greatness."

The power of the words filled Ray with grace and wonder. Fraser loved him completely, without question. If he believed nothing else to be true, that much he knew for certain. Ray held Fraser's hand, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against his partner's. "You make me feel special."

"You are special, Ray."

"Not as special as you."

"I think it's a matter of perspective."

"Ain't it always." Ray chuckled, drawing Fraser in for a kiss. "Let's go to bed."

"We're already in bed."

"Under the covers."

"After you, Ray."

"Polite even in bed."

"Not always."

"Thank God for that."

The End

End BYGONES Part Four by Grey: Grey853@aol.com

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