Author's website: http://www.1freespace.com/linda1

Disclaimer: Ray, Barbara and Damien Kowalski belong to Alliance Communications.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes: I got to thinking how Ray got that black eye that he mentioned at the end of Mojo Rising. So here's my take on it.

"Hi Mum," a small voice called from the hallway. "I'm going to my room to do my homework."

Barbara turned from washing her hands in the sink. She sighed to herself; she knew that her youngest son was in trouble because he always came and gave her a kiss when he got in from school, trying to steal a cookie before dinner.

Barbara turned the oven down a degree before making her way to the bottom of the stairs. "Stanley," she called. "Come down here please."

"I'm doing my homework," a small muffled voice announced.

"Stanley," Barbara raised her voice slightly. She smiled to herself as she heard a jumble of noise and a door swinging open - Stanley could never do anything quietly, always having an abundance of energy and vitality.

"Yes Mum," Ray appeared at the top of the stairs. Barbara looked up her son, feeling the familiar surge of love that she felt every time she looked at one of her sons. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, Ray's knees were still scuffed with angry red grazes from a bicycle accident and his blonde hair stuck up wildly as usual. He was fidgeting, looking down at his sneakers trying to avoid her gaze, his thin body twitching with nervous energy.

"Down here," Barbara commanded. She watched as he came reluctantly down the stairs towards her. "What's wrong Stanley?" she asked as he stood in front of her keeping his head down, still staring at his sneakers.

"Nothing," Ray mumbled. "Just gotta do my homework."

"Stanley," Barbara sighed tipping his head up so he was facing her. "So," she said. "How long did you think you could keep this hidden?" her fingers softly stroked the yellow bruising on his thin face. Barbara removed his glasses so she could study his right eye carefully - it was circled with blackish tinging to his pale skin.

"Did it at gym," he murmured shrugging his shoulders, his face flushing slightly, as he pulled away from her. "It don't hurt," Ray stared at his feet again.

Barbara knew that it was a lie. "I see," she smiled at her younger son as he lifted his face to look at her. His pale blue eyes held her gaze, and Barbara thought she could see a thousand emotions flash through the blueness. She smiled again.

"I got in a fight," Ray blurted out. "Tommy Jenkins said that dancing was for girls. And that it was stupid," he took a deep breath. "Then he hit Donald. So I hit him back. But Tommy is bigger than me, and he knocked me over. He woulda blacked my other eye if Donald's big brother hadn't scared him off."

"Well thank goodness that Donald's brother came along when he did," Barbara smiled again as she led Ray into the kitchen. "But why did Tommy Jenkins hit Donald in the first place?" she asked as she sat him down at the table moving towards the refrigerator to make up an ice pack for her son's eye.

"Because," Ray explained with a huge sigh. "Donald asked if he could learn to dance like me. His Mum said he could come with me to dance class after school."

"That's no reason to get into a fight," Barbara chastised. She kneeled down in front of him as she applied the ice pack to his eye. Ray winced slightly trying to wiggle away from the coldness, but Barbara firmly held the pack in place.

"No Mum," Ray mumbled. "Sorry Mum. But Donald's smaller than me, and he's always getting picked on by the bigger kids. It's not fair." Ray looked at her again, his blue eyes flashing with warmth. "He's my best friend. And friends gotta look out for each other," he announced.

"I know sweetheart," Barbara stroked her hand gently through his wild blonde hair. "But fighting doesn't always solve everything." She smiled to herself at his comments. Ray was eleven years old, small for his age, no bigger than his friend Donald, painfully thin - despite all her efforts - with long gangly arms and legs, his small body full of unsuppressed energy and movement. His dance teacher said he had the natural grace of a dancer, which she sometimes found hard to believe when he limped home with his newest injury, or fell over his own feet clumsily. Although more sensitive and vulnerable than his elder brother, he had an inner strength and determination that even surprised her at times, and he was fiercely loyal to his friends and family.

"Sorry," Ray murmured again. "You won't tell Dad will you?" he jerked his head up to look at her again, his expression earnest. "He'll be mad at me. And then he won't help me..... help me mend my bike at the weekend."

Barbara considered Ray for a moment, surprised at the anxious look that had crossed his face. She knew that working on his bike with his Dad was important to him, and hadn't the heart to deny either of them the pleasure of time together getting dirty and oily. "No," she kissed the top of his head. "I won't tell your Dad. It will be our secret," she motioned him to hold the pack to his eye himself. She turned towards the oven again to check on dinner. "Perhaps one day, you'll tell him. Until then, we'll say you did it at gym. Alright?"

"OK," Ray beamed at his mother. "Love you," he got up moving towards his mother. He kissed her on the cheek. "Can I have a cookie?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

Damien Kowalski was tired - an extra order at the plant had meant another late night, the fourth in a row. He had missed his sons going to bed, but the overtime would be useful - he had been putting small amounts away each month for his sons' college educations.

Having tucked his elder son into bed, he now stood at Ray's bedroom door watching as his youngest son slept. Damien smiled to himself - even in sleep, his son was restless, his legs and arms twitching as he mumbled unintelligibly in his sleep.

He tiptoed across the room. Ray had kicked off his blankets, and Damien carefully pulled the blankets back over his sleeping son. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Damien picked up a small battered teddy bear from the floor. He stared at the bear, its fur worn with the endless cuddles it had endured over the years. One eye was missing - swallowed by a three year old Ray. Ears slightly bent, but still smiling after all these years - a present from a great aunt - Ray had dragged his favourite bear everywhere with him and even now, despite his older brother teasing him mercilessly, the bear still shared his bed every night.

Damien grinned down at his son as he tucked the bear under the blankets. Ray shifted slightly pulling the bear into his arms with a small contented sigh. He stroked his son's face gently. "What trouble ya been getting into?" he whispered as he stroked the new bruising on Ray's face. Barbara had told him about Ray's accident in gym, as he was having his dinner, but Damien sensed that she wasn't telling the whole story. Sighing, he leaned forward to kiss his son's forehead. "Tell me one day. OK?" Damien whispered. Ray murmured in his sleep as he snuggled further down the bed.

THE END

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