Author's Notes: Thanks to John Milton, Paradise Lost

Story Notes: Spoilers for Odds, MOTB

Ray was sitting on the couch watching hockey. The only lights came from the red chili lights encircling the counter between the kitchen and living room. Fraser was staring at the tea kettle waiting for the water to boil. His large, capable hands rested with fingers splayed on the counter to stop them from shaking. The only thing Benton Fraser could think about at this moment is that he had to tell Ray the truth. He had kept the secret too long. He was afraid; more afraid than if he was facing a cougar after going around a bend on a trail in the Northwest Territories. He smiled just a little, remembering Ray saying "Northwest Territory". Fraser always suspected he did it on purpose and took delight in being corrected, once again.

Fraser grabbed his tea and a beer for Ray. He placed their drinks down, sat back down on the couch with his head drooping and his hands palm to palm squeezed between his thighs so Ray wouldn't notice them vibrating. Ray must have felt something, though, because he reached to his left to pull the lamp cord and illuminate the room. Ray then turned sideways and asked Fraser, "What?"

"What `what'"? Fraser retorted, feeling stupid. He continued to sit, his head to his chest, his hands still clutched between his legs. He knew Ray deserved more, but he wasn't prepared.

Ray began punching Fraser softly on his shoulder to get him to turn and face him. Fraser did and the look that Ray saw on Fraser's face shocked him. The expression was fear, plain and simple.

"Come on, now, Frase, there's nothing to be afraid about. What is it?" Ray was massaging the back of Fraser's neck.

"I love you, Ray, and I don't mean like a brother." Fraser was enjoying the comforting feeling of Ray touching him.

"What? Just a minute, Frase, I don't think I heard you." Ray reached for the remote and turned the TV off, then turned back to Fraser.

"I love you", Fraser stated simply, his voice trembling.

Ray jumped up as if an electric shock had just propelled him off the couch, his knee catching underneath the coffee table, knocking over the drinks. "Oh, fuck, now look what you've made me do, Fraser. Get out, now, before I do something I promised you I would never do, again." Fraser had stood up when the coffee table was bumped and had tried to catch the drinks before they spilled. Ray pushed him hard on the chest. "Get out, I said. I mean it."

Fraser walked rapidly to the door, turning around just before his hand grabbed the door knob, "Ray, please, you don't have to be angry. I just wanted to tell you the truth. We don't have to let it change our partnership or our friendship."

"It's already changed, damn you! I want you out of my house and out of my life." Ray went into his bedroom and slammed the door.

When Ray came out a few minutes later, he saw Fraser's "sacred Stetson" was still on the entryway table. He grabbed it up and rushed out, hoping to catch Fraser. He, in no way, wanted that damn hat sitting in his apartment, reminding him of everything he just lost. He couldn't find it in himself to just throw it into the dumpster, either.

Ray saw Fraser turn the corner up ahead and raced to catch up with him. When he turned the same corner, he saw Fraser go down hard on the sidewalk as someone hit him in the head with a board. Three men then grabbed up Fraser's limp body and threw him into the side doors of a light blue van. Ray screamed, "No!" and rushed to catch up to the van. It screeched away from the curb just as Ray reached out a hand to grab the driver's door. Ray caught a glimpse of the license plate. It was covered in mud except a chunk had fallen away, revealing a partial plate of "RCW". It was an Illinois plate.

Ray was in actually physical agony, seeing Fraser assaulted and kidnapped, but he still had the presence of mind to get on his cell phone and call it in. After he was sure there were units responding and on the lookout for the blue van, he called Frannie at home and told her to please go to the station and start running all Illinois plates that began with RCW. He told her that Fraser was kidnapped, he didn't know why and he didn't know how much time they had to find him. Frannie was crying when she hung up, but said she would get on it, right away.

Ray remembered he had been holding Frase's Stetson and went back to look for it. In the excitement, he must have dropped it, but he couldn't recall where. The fact that the Stetson was missing as well as Fraser made Ray begin to cry. It was like a trigger for all the emotions of the night and Ray was still sobbing when he pulled up to the 27th.

It was 1:30 a.m. so Ray was shocked to see Lieutenant Welsh, Frannie, Huey, Dewey, Choates, Belger and Lessing, all busy at computers or on the phone, trying to get some information to help in the search for Fraser. The sight made Ray want to start crying, again, but he pulled himself together. He had to keep his mind clear and his emotions at bay until Fraser was found. Four hours had passed since Ray saw Fraser's lifeless body being flung in the van like a sack of potatoes.

Frannie suddenly stood up in front of her desk and was screeching, "I found something. I found something". Ray rushed over to her side and looked at the paper she was holding. It was the complete license plate number to a light blue van, a name and an address. The address was one near Lake Michigan. All available personnel met the Swat Team outside of a medium-sized home, with lights on in the garage showing slightly through dark-colored window coverings. Ray and some of the Swat Team members kicked open the front door while Lieutenant Welsh and the rest of the 27th went around to the side garage door and kicked it in.

All the assailants had been standing around and looking up at a naked, battered and bleeding Fraser hanging from one of the ceiling cross beams by his wrists. The three men were subdued within minutes. Lt. Welsh had already started to gently lift Fraser down after cutting the ropes that had secured him to the beam. A dirty, bloody mattress was lying against one wall and Welsh laid Fraser down on it, covering his body with his trench coat. Other officers were already raising Fraser's feet by placing their own coats underneath them to counteract shock.

Ray was at Fraser's head, putting his ear against Fraser's bloodied mouth to detect breath. There was none. He put his fingers to his carotid artery to feel for a pulse. There was none. He tilted Frase's head back and gave him two quick breaths, then began the recommended 15 chest compressions while the EMT's set up their life-saving equipment. All Ray knew is that he had to keep Fraser's blood circulating so his brain could continue to receive the oxygen it needed. Later, he would wonder at how he was able to focus so clearly on what needed to be done when he essentially was seeing and touching a dead Fraser.

When the EMT's pushed Ray aside gently so they could begin their work, something let go in Ray's brain and he collapsed on the dirty garage floor. He was treated for shock and also loaded into the waiting ambulance.

Under sedation, Ray began to have visions and the more intense they got, the more he started to thrash around on the gurney. Fraser was standing in front of him and Ray was pummeling him mercilessly and pushing him toward the apartment door, again, but this time very hard and Fraser was stumbling and couldn't keep his balance. The fear on Fraser's face was evident, but Ray kept pushing and hitting him, screaming at him to get out, get out, get out. Then the scene changed to the garage where Fraser was found. Three bare light bulbs provided the only light and they were swinging back and forth, casting shadows and light alternately on Fraser's naked body also swinging back and forth on the ropes that suspended him. Fraser's body was covered in gaping stab wounds, bruises from being kicked and hit with fists. There were finger-shaped bruises on Fraser's buttocks and blood running down the back of his legs. Fraser's normally pale creamy skin was grey and waxy looking.

Ray heard a loud piercing sound as he woke up and he realized the sound was the ambulance screaming toward the hospital with a dead Fraser in it. The EMT's quickly increased Ray's sedative after turning away from their intense efforts to revive Fraser when Ray began screaming over the top of the sound of the ambulance's siren.

About 10 hours later, Ray woke up in a hospital bed. The first waking image in his brain was of Fraser swinging from the beam in that filthy garage, dead. It dawned on him that this time, he didn't hate the hospital. He wanted to lie under these cozy covers and sleep forever. He realized they must still be sedating him after he had fainted once in shock and woke up screaming in shock. Bring it on, he thought. Whatever gets you through the night, as John Lennon had once written. Ray was for all that. In fact, he didn't want to be a police office anymore because seeing his dead friend, battered, bruised and sexually assaulted was the last horrible image he wanted to see as long as he lived. What bothered Ray even more was how so completely he went out of control and all Fraser had done was confessed he loved Ray. What was so awful about that? He probably wanted to clear the air since there had been some unusual tension, lately, between them.

Ray hated himself so much at this precise moment, he was wondering how hard it would be to reach up and try to increase the sedative to the point where he could be sedated right off the planet. He was studying the mechanism of how it might be done when a doctor, he presumed, since he was wear a white jacket and had a stethoscope around his neck, came over to this bed. "Hello, Detective Vecchio. I am Dr. Summers and I want to find out how you are doing psychologically. You were in a very bad state of shock, yesterday, twice, and now, we would like to see how you actually feel.

"Ya mean, doc, am I a suicide risk? Part of me wants to lie to you so I can go about figuring out how I can remove myself from a world that no longer has anything in it for me. Yeh, I am a suicide risk. Is there such a thing as physician-assisted suicide when the dark forces have crowded out any of the good things in a person's life? Huh, doc? I didn't think so."

"Detective, would you be interested in spending a few more days, here, until you can begin to deal with what happened to your friend? In these extreme circumstances, your health insurance will pay for any help you need to regain your equilibrium. It will also give you an opportunity to visit Constable Fraser daily and talk to him. He is in a coma..."

Ray sat up straight in bed, yanking at his IV and making the pole tip dangerously. Dr. Summers caught it before it tipped over. "Ben's alive?"

"Yes, he is still in very critical condition, but holding his own." Dr. Summers helped Ray lay back down, noting some signs of shock, again, so he increased the sedative dosage just a little bit to help Ray get a bit more rest before going to see his friend.

"Get some rest. When you wake up, I will personally take you to intensive care to see him." Dr. Summers reached for some tissue and wiped the tears from Ray's cheeks and waited a few more minutes until Ray fell asleep.

When Ray's eyes opened two hours later, he was eager to get up and go see Fraser. He realized he didn't really know anything about getting the IV out and rang for the nurse. True to his word, Dr. Summers came in pushing a wheelchair. "I don't need a wheelchair, doc." "I would feel better if you would acquiesce to allowing me to push you to intensive care. You have been through a lot and it seems prudent not to take any chances that you might fall over, again." Dr. Summers sounded so much like Fraser, Ray couldn't help but agree to whatever he asked of him.

As he was being pushed down the hall, Ray realized what a great idea it was that he was sitting down. His stomach was very queasy, his hands were shaking and he knew if he stood up, there would be no strength in his legs to hold him up. The vision of Fraser swinging from the beams in the bulb-lit garage came back to him and he began to think he wasn't going to be able to see Frase without screaming, again.

Dr. Summers could tell Ray was beginning to have trepidations about seeing his injured friend and started using soothing phrases to reassure Ray that Fraser looks a lot better and is stabilized and no longer in danger of dying. Dr. Summers made a point of telling Ray that it was his initial CPR that helped the EMTs to revive Fraser and once Fraser was at the hospital, they were able to operate on his internal injuries and stop the bleeding from his serious stab wounds.

There were all those beeping machines connected to Fraser that Ray had always hated because they signified someone so sick that machines had to tell the doctors everything that was going on all of the time. He was relieved, though, to see that Dr. Summers was right. Fraser must be doing better. He was no longer dead and his skin was beginning to have a tiny bit of color in it. Ray began to cry, again, but this time, he didn't think anything about it. The tears were of joy, not despair.

Dr. Summers had explained that Fraser was in a coma because he had suffered a severe blow to the head which caused a serious concussion. When Ray heard the phrase "severe blow to the head", he once again saw those bastards hitting Fraser and watching Fraser hit the pavement. If only he hadn't kicked Fraser out. As soon as that thought came, he quickly squelched it. He did push Fraser out of his life and he almost pushed Fraser out of Fraser's own life, too, by letting him walk the dark streets so late at night. Yeh, yeh, Fraser had done it a million times before, but before he was alert and not distracted by losing Ray as a friend and partner. He might have been able to fight off his assailants if he hadn't been in deep despair. Ray kept coming back to blaming himself and he realized that is exactly where the blame lay and he had better get over it.

Dr. Summers recognized by Ray's slump in the wheelchair, he was feeling the weight of the tragic circumstances surround his friend's attack. "Ray, let me take you back to your room. If you agree, I am going to start you on an anti-depressant, just to get you through all of this. It won't take effect, right away, but tomorrow you can start spending most of the day with Fraser if you want. Have you heard that comatose patients can sometimes hear what is going on around them?"

"Yeah, doc, I have and I want to help as much as I can, but, you're right, I need just a little bit more time to get back to where I can help Fraser.

Ray wheeled himself back to his room and climbed back into the protective warmth of his bed and pulled the covers up over his head. He felt as if he had a strobe-like effect of thoughts going off in his head that flashed from seeing the look of serious fear on Fraser's face, to seeing him attacked and kidnapped, to realizing the Fraser they released from the ceiling beam was dead, to seeing Fraser in a coma. The doc never said how long Frase was dead before Ray performed the CPR, whether there was going to be brain-damage or whether Frase was expected to come out of it, ever. He knew of cases where people in comas were like that for 15 to 20 years.

It was his fault. He threw back the covers and freed his hands to pound as hard as he could on the bed. He was angry, now, because Fraser needed him and Ray still wanted to die, to get away from the nightmare images, to get away from himself; a person who kicks his best friend out to walk home in the dark because the guy had the balls to tell him he loved him. Ray had already suspected that Frase loved him, so why did he react so violently and stupidly? Why couldn't he have just told Frase he wasn't interested and they would have dealt with the whole thing.

Ray suddenly realized that when he decided to drop out of being a cop, he had lost sight of the fact there were three assholes also responsible for what happened to Frase and he didn't even know why they did it. He reached for his cell phone and called Lt. Welsh. "Hello, Detective. I am just outside in the parking garage. I will be up to see you in about five minutes. We can talk, then."

Welsh looked very tired when he appeared in the doorway of Ray's hospital room. He immediately pulled up a chair close to Ray's bed and dropped heavily down into it. Welsh looked at Ray and saw a man who looked exhausted, distraught and angry. He wasn't sure where the anger was directed. He knew Ray well enough to know Ray was probably angry at himself.

"Lieutenant, why did those motherfuckers do all that shit to Fraser? Who are they? Was it a case we were working on?"

Lt. Welsh glanced up at Ray from staring at the floor to see that it looked like Ray was ready to hear what he had to say. "The men had followed Fraser from a gay bar on Fourteenth which the Constable must have left just before coming to your apartment. They parked around the corner for the express purpose of attacking him, raping him and killing him. Booth, Ravens and Belcher were arrested last year for an attack on a gay man who had come out of the same bar. This victim didn't die and the attackers got off because there was insufficient evidence to arrest them."

Ray was sick to his stomach and stumbled out of bed to try to make it to the bathroom before he threw up the lunch he had eaten an hour ago. Welsh grabbed for him and helped him to get to the door of the bathroom.

When Ray came out, it was apparent to Welsh that he had been crying. He put an arm around his shoulders and guided him back into bed. Ray definitely needed to rest. Then, Ray began to talk and between sobs, the story of what happened just before Fraser was attacked came out and the reason Fraser had left Ray's apartment on foot. Welsh told Ray that he had no way of knowing Fraser's attackers were waiting for him. He reminded him of the countless times Fraser insisted on walking the dark streets of Chicago, alone or with Dief. "Where is Dief, by the way, Ray?"

"He's with Turnbull. That reminds me, Lieu, if you have time to look for Fraser's Stetson, I would appreciate it. I had it in my hand when I was running toward the van. I must have dropped it, somewhere. I am going to be in the hospital for a while longer to deal with my problems and to help Frase. Can you ask Frannie to fill out the paperwork for me to sign for sick leave and vacation time? I will need at least a month to get my head back on straight and to see if I can't get Fraser to come back to us from wherever people go when they are in a coma."

"Sure, sure, Detective. I am glad you are going to take care of yourself, too. It will make it easier for you to focus on getting Fraser well, again."

Fraser was lying on his back, looking up at a stark white sky. When he turned to look to his right and left, he saw nothing but a great expanse of white. It seemed like snow, but he was warm, not cold. He gasped when his dead father's face suddenly appeared, looking down on him from directly above his head. "Come on, son. We have a journey to take. You can't just keep lying around."

"Dad, am I dead?"

"No, son, but if you keep lying there, you soon will be." Fraser's father helped him to his feet. "We have got to get you back to where you belong. You took a wrong turn somewhere. Let's have a bit to eat before we start. I'll make a fire. Dief's father will soon be back with our dinner." "Dief's father, Dad?"

"Yes, son. The side of him that is all-wolf came from his father. I met his father when I was out searching for you." Just then, a pure white wolf came loping across the white ground, carrying a bloody rabbit in his mouth. Dief's father laid the rabbit down near the now-blazing fire and waited for his share of the meal. Fraser bent down and patted the wolf on the head while handing the rabbit to his father.

"Since you are wild, you never had a name. Can I call you "Dief" while we are on our journey?" The wolf seemed to understand, just like Dief always seemed to understand Fraser and bumped against Fraser's leg signifying his approval. The three of them had soon consumed the delicious roasted rabbit. It occurred to Fraser that Dief's father and his father were dead and didn't need to eat. "I thought dead people didn't have to eat, Dad?"

"Oh, son, we don't, but you are not dead and for the purpose of our journey, you have to do all of the things you would have to do if you were awake and taking the same journey. Me and Dief are just going along with it to be companionable. We will rest and sleep when you are tired."

"Do you know the way to go, Dad?"

"It's not up to me, boy. This is your journey. Take a good look around and see if you can figure it out."

Fraser did as his father asked. He slowly turned around, looking in all directions and realized the place wasn't just expanses of white everywhere he looked. He could see images dancing like mirages off in the distance in each direction he looked. To the west, he could see blurry buildings like the cityscape of Chicago and he knew that was the direction he needed to go. He could almost see Ray's apartment building and the thought of it was like a blow to his solar plexus. He doubled over in pain, remembering that something had happened at Ray's apartment that had stripped him of his will to live, but he couldn't remember what it was. All he knew is that the journey is supposed to be about remembering and returning to face what he felt was something he couldn't face.

"I can't do this, Dad. I know I am supposed to go back. I don't want to. I want to stay."

Bob Fraser had seen the intense pain that had crossed over his son's handsome features when Benton had looked toward journey's end. Bob was not sure what had caused such deep pain within his son's soul. He knew it had something to do with Detective Vecchio. Now, Bob was afraid of what was going to happen if Benton remembered the torture he had had to endure before he died and was revived. If he didn't want to go back to face Ray, how will he be able to decide to go back and face the long, painful recovery he will have to endure to regain his health?

Bob knew, in this split-second of time, he should remain completely quiet and say nothing to influence his son's decision. The decision to complete the journey will have to come from Benton and Benton alone. He sat down on a nearby log and waited. Benton was still clutching his mid-section and seemed unable to straighten up. Then, Benton's head slowly came up and he appeared to be straining to hear something. The shimmering cityscape seemed so very far away, but Ben thought he could hear the sound of Ray crying. He knew he had to get closer to find out what it was he was hearing.

Bob was glad when Benton started walking briskly toward the mirage-like image of Chicago. He ran to catch up and Dief yelped and ran up alongside Benton, too. The three of them were on their way.

After a while of fast walking, Benton realized he was not going to be able to keep up the pace and needed to rest. He was a bit mystified by this because he had always thought being between life and death transcended all earthly needs. Up ahead, he spotted a meadow with a beautiful maple tree in the middle of it and led the way to it. He collapsed upon the grass and fell immediately into a deep sleep. Bob noticed rapid-eye movement and could see his son was dreaming. Benton was outside of Ray's apartment building. He looked up to Ray's second-floor window. He was hoping to see Ray come to the window. Then, the curtain moved and Ray was aiming a gun in his direction and fired. Fraser fell to the ground and a large pool of blood seeped out from his back as he lay wounded. No, no that was when Ray Vecchio shot him on the train platform. His Ray never shot him. "His" Ray? No, Ray wasn't his. Ray hated him. Ray never wanted to see him, again. Why was Ray crying?

Bob placed his hand on Benton's shoulder and gently shook him awake. The dream he was having was obviously a nightmare and Benton wasn't getting the rest he needed. When Benton's eyes suddenly opened, he cried out, "Ray doesn't want me to come back."

Bob knew, once again, he couldn't say a word, only standby and be some comfort while his son came to grips with all that had happened to him. Apparently, Ray had done or said something to make Benton feel as if Benton was no longer welcome in Ray's life. It had only been three days ago. There was plenty of time for Benton to work out what he must do.

Ray sat by Fraser's bedside and wiped away more tears that had been prompted by seeing Fraser so still, so hurt and so far away. Ray had cried enough tears, he thought, in the last three days, to drown himself and still thought that death would be a welcome relief from the guilt and despair that was threatening to overwhelm him.

He reached for the book he had asked Frannie to check out for him at the library. When she dropped it off and saw Frase for the first time, she paled and started crying. She went to his bedside and rubbed his left hand, being careful to avoid touching the bandaged wrist. She was told, when she insisted on knowing the extent of his injuries, that both of his wrists had deep, infected injuries from the dirty rope used to hang him from the beam in the garage. "Come on back, Frase. We miss you. Now, Ray's going to read from that book you said you memorized when we played poker for candy, remember? I'll see you, later, okay?" Frannie turned away and then leaned down and gave Ray an awkward hug as he sat in his wheelchair by Fraser's bedside. "See you later, too, Ray. Take care of him."

Ray opened "Paradise Lost" and began to read:

"Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast Brought Death into the World, and all our woe, With loss of EDEN, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat, Sing Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top Of OREB, or of SINAI, didst inspire That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed, In the Beginning how the Heav'ns and Earth Rose out of CHAOS: Or if SION Hill Delight thee more, and SILOA'S Brook that flow'd Fast by the Oracle of God; I thence Invoke thy aid to my adventrous Song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above th' AONIAN Mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime. And chiefly Thou O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all Temples th' upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss And mad'st it pregnant: What in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support; That to the highth of this great Argument I may assert th' Eternal Providence, And justifie the wayes of God to men."

Ray paused and laughed a little. Looking at Fraser, he said, "Well, here's someone who spells worse than I do. I don't understand much of it, Frase, but you must have liked it to memorize the whole thing."

Ray continued reading and stopped when he finished reading this passage:

"Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes That witness'd huge affliction and dismay Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate: At once as far as Angels kenn he views The dismal Situation waste and wilde, A Dungeon horrible, on all sides round As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end."

Certain phrases jumped out at him. "Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him." "That witness'd huge affliction and dismay Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate." That was him reacting to Fraser's declaration of love. Frase and he had lost happiness and he had caused lasting pain and it did torment him. It was his pride (he didn't want to think of himself as gay when there is absolutely nothing wrong with it) and he had showed Frase steadfast hate, alright, and drove him out into the night, right into a dungeon horrible...no light, but darkness visible...where peace and rest can never dwell, hope never comes...torture without end."

By the time Ray had reached "torture without end", his voice was cracking too much for him to continue. "Sorry, Frase, I'll have to come back in the morning. One more night in the hospital and then I will be coming in to see you and attend some sessions with a psychiatrist for the next couple of weeks. I got time off from work. I am even thinking of never going back to work, actually. Don't tell anybody. I don't think I can be a cop, anymore." Ray leaned over, careful to avoid touching Fraser's injured shoulder which had become dislocated when all of Fraser's 180 lbs was suspended from the beam, and finding an unbattered section of skin on Fraser's face, kissed him. It felt good. It felt right. "Goodnight, Frase."

As he was leaving to go to his own room, Lt. Welsh was coming toward Ray with the "sacred Stetson" in his hand. "A homeless person had picked it off the street where you had dropped it and willingly gave it up for 10 bucks."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Ray took the Stetson and put it on a table near Fraser's bed. Seeing it, again, gave Ray a little hope that everything would turn out okay.

"Let's keep walking, Dad. I can't close my eyes. I see too much hate and pain. Come on, Dief." An artesian well was pouring sparkling water out of a rock just up ahead and Frase ran to it and began cupping water to drink, his thirst was so great. Dief and his Dad went through the motions of drinking, too, to make all seem normal. When Frase stood up to continue on, he heard the voice of someone familiar and the words seemed very, very familiar.

"Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes That witness'd huge affliction and dismay Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate: At once as far as Angels kenn he views The dismal Situation waste and wilde, A Dungeon horrible, on all sides round As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end."

The voice sounded very like Ray's. He could hear Ray's voice break when he read the words "torture without end." He wondered why that would upset Ray so much. Then, he felt what he thought was a kiss on his cheek, right under his right eye. Even if Ray did hate him and didn't want to see him, again, he had to get back to the city to find out more about what all of these things meant.

Bob was pleased to note that Fraser was now walking at a steady pace, apparently determined to reach the end of the journey, away from death and darkness and toward light and life.

The next morning, Ray filled out his discharge papers, went to the pharmacy to fill his prescription for the antidepressant the doctor thought would help him and went to Fraser's room to continue reading to him. "Hey, Frase. It's me, Ray, again. Ray pushed Fraser's hair away from his forehead, found another spot that wasn't bruised or cut and kissed him hello. Then, he pulled up the guest chair, a pretty comfortable one, settled in and began to read.

"A mind not to be chang'd by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven."

Ray was so overcome by the significance of this part, he lost his breath for a moment. "The mind is its own place." Of course, it is. "...and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." He placed the book on the floor by the chair and looked over at his comatose friend. Fraser had never looked so frail to him, so vulnerable; almost like a child. Ray remembered the look of abject fear in Fraser's eyes when he turned to Ray to tell him "the truth", as he called it. It was the look of a child who was afraid of losing his most valuable possession. It was a look of fear underlined by a deep love. Ray realized his mind was also its own place and whatever fears he may have of being thought of as gay if he returned Fraser's love did not belong in his mind's place. He was only overlaying someone else's bigotry over the top of the love he has for Fraser. He had made a hell of heaven and Fraser had to pay such a very high price for his inability to be true to himself AND to Fraser.

Bob realized Benton was getting tired, but was apparently unwilling to stop his forced march toward Ray. Benton had told Bob he thought he heard Ray's voice and he had to find out what is going on. All of a sudden, Fraser stopped and stared straight ahead. Bob and Dief were unprepared for the abrupt stop and collided into Benton. "Sorry, Dad and Dief. I see the demarcation point between your world and the world I am trying to get back to. It is that bridge over that river, right up ahead." Fraser turned and hugged his father hard. He bent down and wrapped his arms around "Dief" and dug his hands into the pristine white fur around his neck. "Goodbye and thank you." He broke into a run when he reached the bridge.

"Long is the way And hard, that out of hell leads up to light."

Ray was very tired. He was becoming less and less hopeful that Fraser would wake up. He got up and started pacing the room, looking at nothing, only seeing the despairing thoughts intermingling with hopeful ones, almost battling each other within his exhausted mind.

"Ra..Ray?" A faint whisper. Ray whipped around from staring at a blank wall and stared at Fraser lips. Fraser's eyes were closed, but his lips WERE moving and a little sound of "Ray" came out of those swollen lips. Ray skittered over next to Fraser's bed and leaned down closer to him. "Hey, Frase, it's Ray, here. I am right here." Fraser struggled to open his eyes so he could see Ray. His lids were heavy and it hurt to try to open them. Finally, he could see his beautiful Ray smiling down at him. Ray's smile was so bright he almost had to close his eyes, again. Ray knew he should be pushing the button to summon the doctors and nurses in to swarm around their patient, but he stole a few more seconds so he could tell Ben that he loved him and gave him another kiss on the forehead. He could tell Ben was trying to smile through his injuries and making no headway. "It's okay, now, Ben. I've got to call the doctor so they can take care of you, okay?" Ben nodded.

"See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, With joy and love triumphing."