Author's website: http://www.virtual-meridian.net

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Author's Notes:

Story Notes: There is some violence and bad language.

Ray Vecchio: Detective First Grade CPD

The snowfall levels in Chicago had reached a record high. Even the weather forecasters on all the local television stations continuously proclaimed their amazement at how much snow was hitting the city. Snowplows noisily scraped the streets night and day to keep up with the snow and slush that wrecked havoc on the city. For once, the City succeeded in getting on top of their duties and had the streets cleared before too many accidents could occur.

Detective first grade Raymond Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department, who was more of a Florida-weather kind of guy, abhorred the snow. Well, it wasn't really the snow that he hated; in fact the thick white fluffy blanket that covered most everything was rather pretty and pristine. What he hated was the way that the salts laid down to prevent pedestrian slippage ate at the immaculate jade paint on his beloved vintage 1972 Buick Riviera automobile.

Ray had put a lot of time and especially money into that car and it seemed that the forces of good and evil, Fraser and the salt respectively, all contrived to take it from him. But he wasn't giving up the fight that easily, albeit, it was his third Buick Riviera model.

As he sat in the still purring automobile at the curb of West Racine waiting to drive his best friend to work, one grim Thursday morning where the temperatures had barely clawed out of the single digits, he was feeling irritated. With a gloved finger, he stabbed at the black radio push buttons, jumping from station to station without finding a suitable reward. With a flick of his wrist he clicked off the radio, opting to sit in silence rather than suffer through repetitive teen bop fluff. They just didn't make music like they used to, he groused to himself. Now it was all drum machines and pretentious harmonies. If there were any real talent in any of those under twenty-one voices, they would last longer than half a decade.

Ray sat there a moment longer, tapping out an errant beat on the steering wheel, before impatiently scooting down in the driver's seat to look through the passenger side window and up to the newly painted third floor apartment window. The pale yellow colour of the fresh paint looked nice against the yellowing brick of the old building. Ray remembered all too clearly the death-defying acts of painting that Fraser had talked him into doing the weekend before. When Fraser had mentioned that he wanted to take on the gargantuan task of replacing and painting all the windows in the apartment building, Ray'd merely shrugged his shoulders and absently mentioned that he would help, if Fraser needed it. It was the polite thing to do, but Ray didn't think the Mountie would take him up on it. Before he knew it, Fraser was telling him of the materials the local hardware store had overtly donated to the building's supplies, thrusting a paintbrush in his hand and pointing to the newly installed and sanded window frames in his own apartment.

"They just donated? No strings attached?" Ray had asked, incredulously, and Fraser merely smiled and shook his head negatively.

Ray rolled his eyes. He was now convinced; Fraser could do anything. He could talk water out of a rock if he put his mind to it. Ray was impressed.

But in his volunteering for the job, Ray thought that all he had to do was point out any places the Mountie may have missed with his brush. Instead, he found himself hanging half out of an open window, gripping the frame with one hand and tentatively dabbing paint as he dared on the outside frame with the other, all the while praying to Mary that Fraser's handiwork would prove sturdy, so that he wouldn't end up splattered all over the concrete three stories below.

Ray stared at that window and admired his own paint job for a moment before silently willing the Mountie to hurry up. Fraser wasn't exactly running late, Ray in fact had driven up early, but still he wanted him to hurry. He was feeling antsy. Finally he saw the familiar figure come out through the rickety front door and descend the three front steps with a ginger and white coloured wolf trotting out from around his legs. He wondered when Fraser was going to replace the door as well.

Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police looking fresh, rosy cheeked and rested, wearing his brown uniform, dark navy blue pea coat and tan stetson which was set at a perfectly perpendicular angle to his head, came to a stop beside the car. After a hesitation, as he glanced around the street, he opened the car door.

He popped back the front seat and the energetic wolf leapt onto the back seat. Once the Mountie had slipped into the front seat and buckled himself in, he turned towards the Chicago cop.

"Hi, Ray," he said giving him a warm smile in greeting.

Ray took in a breath. Fraser smelled as fresh as he looked.

"What took you so long?" Ray asked looking back at him.

The Mountie looked puzzled and he answered, with a peculiar expression on his pale face, "I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't realize I was late."

He then glanced at his watch, proving to himself that he in fact wasn't late. Ray had been early. But he didn't press the subject.

"But," he continued. "Diefenbaker had a bit of an accident."

Ray raised his brows and shifted to glance at the wolf in the back seat before turning to look at Fraser.

"What kind of accident?" Ray asked, imagining the worst of all possible worst that could have taken place in that immaculate little third floor apartment.

Fraser looked embarrassed and he clenched his straight dark brows as he leaned towards and whispered conspiratorially to Ray.

"I don't think I should discuss it in front of him. It'll only embarrass him more."

Ray looked at Dief again and frowned. Now he was really curious as to what happened. But it seemed neither of them were going to be talking about it.

"I think you're giving that wolf a complex, Benny," Ray observed with a laugh.

Fraser grimaced and sticking a gloved finger in his mouth, he clenched his teeth and pulled off the glove. He did the same with the other glove before he spoke.

"I think Diefenbaker needs to exercise more control over the things he decides to consume..."

Although he was speaking to Ray, Fraser said this in a loud enough voice so that the wolf was sure to hear his admonishment. Diefenbaker licked his chops noisily and ignored him, busying himself with peering out of the back window, and eyeing the people passing by.

The salty gooey chili cheese hamburger melt he'd rooted out of a neighbor's garbage was worth the painful indigestion he'd experienced as well as the damage he'd done to Fraser's clean sheets. The Mountie had all but accused him of hopping up onto the bed and vomiting there on purpose. But, honestly he hadn't. He'd just been sleeping there and then goop was out of his mouth before he'd made it off the bed. Diefenbaker decided that he would readily do it again, even if it were just to irritate the Mountie.

Ray merely shook his head and pulled away from the curb and into the busy rush hour traffic.

"You're quiet this morning," Fraser said after a long moment.

He turned his dark blue eyes to look at Ray's pinched expression.

"Just got some things on my mind, that's all," Ray answered quickly, not divulging any information that would enlighten the Mountie.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Fraser asked, cautiously. "With me?"

Ray grinned to himself and then swerved to miss plowing into a biker coming fast off the sidewalk.

"Stay in the park, you jerk!" he yelled through the frosty windshield.

The biker flipped him off and raced away into traffic, his shiny reflector stretch pants glinting in the hazy morning sun. Ray then turned his attention back to Fraser. When they'd first met, Fraser had been completely horrified with Ray's driving etiquette and hung onto the car's interior whenever Ray's ball and socket ankle joint got a little too loose. But as time went on, he no longer braced himself or even said anything to chide Ray on his loud mouth and blatant disregard for stop signs. He began to take it in stride when he realized that Ray wasn't going to kill them both.

"Anyway, Benny, who else would I talk to, if not to you?" Ray asked, neatly steering the Riv between two lumbering trucks.

A pleased smile parted Fraser's lips, which he quickly erased as he said, "Why thank you, Ray. I appreciate your candor with me."

"You're welcome, Benny," Ray answered letting his teasing voice trail. "Besides, you're my best friend. What else are you good for?"

Fraser opened his mouth to speak, but Ray cut him off.

"Don't answer that," he said chuckling a bit.

The Mountie said nothing as he waited for Ray to continue. Ray clenched both hands about the leather-covered steering wheel wondering if it was wise to tell Fraser anything. He wasn't sure if even spilling just a little information would endanger the Mountie's life and hurting Fraser was the last thing he wanted to do. He took in a long breath and hissed it out between his teeth before he finally made himself speak.

"It's just that I might be in a little trouble."

Fraser looked surprised. The Ray Vecchio that he knew wasn't the type of man who actively went looking for altercations and even if trouble found him, he could talk his way out of anything. Fraser was impressed with that talent.

"Ray," he said. "Are you all right? What kind of trouble?"

"Mob kind," Ray hated to admit. "Zuko kind."

Ben shuddered a little. Frank Zuko wasn't a man he wanted to discuss again. It had been a long time since he'd even seen Frank Zuko, not since the incident involving Ray and the death of Zuko's sister Irene. Fresh new Families had come into his play space and took over his turf. Frank Zuko lost his pull in the City of Chicago. He was a joke to those who'd once cowered beneath his hand. He'd lost his house and his associates and had been rumored to be living someplace back east, in Jersey.

"He's back in town," Ray informed him. "He's got some new blood working for him, trying to build up what he lost before he got kicked out."

"New blood?" Ben asked, not understanding the argot.

"New people. Got in good with a few of the Families and now he's doing his thing to get back to where he was in the neighborhood."

"I see," he said and the idea of Frank Zuko being able to again arrantly terrorize innocent hard working people left him feeling cold. "And how does this affect you, Ray?"

"Ray Vecchio: loud mouth," Ray described himself with a sardonic smirk. "Slow of wit and quick of fist. He told me that he was going to get me... that night after I beat him up in the gym. He warned me. Now I guess he's making good on his threat."

"Ray..." Fraser whispered as his throat tightened.

He felt afraid for his friend. He'd seen what angry mobsters were capable of. He had witnessed it first hand and because of the beating he himself had received, his ribs still gave him trouble on cold nights. He opened his mouth to question Ray, but the cop had already pulled up to the front of the consulate building.

"Here ya go, Benny," Ray said putting the car into park without shutting off the engine.

"Ray," Fraser said, spreading his hands out before him.

He wanted to make it clear to Ray that he wasn't going to leave until they had resolved the problem. Ray knew this, and he also knew that there was nothing Fraser could do to help him.

"Look, Benny. I don't want you to be late. We... we can talk about it later."

He then tried to make light of the situation.

"Don't want the Dragon Lady taking your head off again, do you?"

Ray looked away from him, waiting for Fraser to get out of the car. But Ben didn't move. Of course he didn't want Inspector Thatcher, whom Ray so fondly referred to as The Dragon Lady, to be cross with him, especially since, as of late he hadn't been able to do anything right by her. But, Ray's well being was more important to him than his boss's anger.

"Are you going to be all right, Ray?" he asked softly.

Ray met his earnestly concerned blue eyes and shrugged.

"Yea, Benny. I'll be all right," he said looking down at the steering wheel again as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, and then added, when the Mountie's expression said that he didn't believe him, "I promise. Really. I'll be back around eleven thirty to pick you up for lunch. Does that sound good?"

Fraser, swallowing the piercing icicle of fear, finally relented and snagging his hat from the dashboard, he nodded.

"I'll see you then, Ray. We can ... uh... talk then."

He got out of the car and tossed back the front seat to let out the wolf.

Ray sat in the Riv for a long time, even after Fraser and Dief disappeared into the Consulate building. He felt bad for lying to his friend. He felt bad for falsely reassuring him that he was going to be o.k., when in fact he had no idea whether he was going to live to see tomorrow.

Diefenbaker swiftly trotted into Fraser's office and plopped down in his favorite leather chair right by the window. He could nose the curtains aside and watch the passersby. It was much more interesting than watching the Mountie filling out paperwork, answering telephone calls and arranging the paperclips in size from large to small and then back again.

What a banal existence his alpha pack mate led. It was a wonder he didn't just wander off into the woods somewhere and curl up to die. That's what mates usually did when they were empty inside, when they were tired of living, which was exactly the Mountie's problem. He was just tired of living. But, Dief thought complacently, there was that loud mouth cop that always fed him doughnuts even though he claimed to Fraser that he never fed him. Dief liked Ray, and knew the cop was good for his alpha pack mate. He would keep him from going off the deep end.

"You're staring," he heard the Mountie say to him. "It's not polite."

Dief lay his ears back against his head and chuffed softly. When was Fraser going to learn that he didn't give a hoot about politeness? He was a wolf for God sakes.

Fraser sat down at the desk and made himself comfortable in the chair before he reached for the papers in his IN-box. He shuffled through the forms, but his mind wasn't on his work. His mind was on Ray. Ray was in trouble and it worried him, greatly. Fraser put the papers down on his desk, unwittingly ignoring the message from his boss for him to report to her office, IMMEDIATELY, and walked to over the window. He put his hand on Dief's warm furry head and scratched him behind the ears. With the other hand he pushed aside the lace curtain and hooked it behind its holder so that the wolf got an unobstructed view of the street.

"I'm sorry I was cross with you, this morning," he said gently, still stroking the wolf's head.

The animal leaned the side of his muzzle into Fraser's palm and whined softly. He'd forgiven the Mountie.

Ben looked down at him and smiled a little. He felt better knowing that Diefenbaker had forgiven him, once again.

"It's just that, you should know better. I don't want you getting sick over nothing. You might get into something you may not be able to bring back up. You understand that?"

He continued to rub the wolf's stubborn head as he looked out of the window. He laced his fingers through the thick winter coat and after giving him a firm final pat, he turned away from the window. When he heard the soft swift three knocks on the closed door to his office, Fraser immediately knew it was Turnbull. He always liked to tap out some little beat on the door when he knocked. Because, Turnbull seemed to enjoy the little game so much, Fraser had openly told him that he didn't mind, but secretly, it irritated him. But he was willing to brook it, if it contented his subordinate.

"Yes, Turnbull," he called and the door gently swung open.

Looking strangely out of sorts, the tall blonde Constable peeked in at Fraser. Fraser stared at him.

"What is it, Turnbull?" he asked, crossing the room.

"There are a few... -er- people here to see you, sir," Turnbull said, casting an uneasy glance over his shoulder.

Fraser raised his brows feeling a surge of what felt like anger swell in his chest. He knew exactly who they were, without even seeing them. He could judge it from the unpleasant expression on the young man's face.

"See them in, Turnbull," Fraser said. "And, go take an early break."

"But, sir," he demurred. "What if something..."

Fraser grinned with a bravado he didn't feel.

"Nothing's going to happen."

He then turned and went to sit back down at his desk. He folded his hands and waited. Then he said to Dief,

"Closet."

Fraser didn't want Dief to get caught in any ensuing crossfire. Immediately the wolf leapt from the chair and scooted into his regular hiding place.

When the door closed and Fraser looked up, he saw one woman and two men dressed in funeral black standing at the threshold. Their expensive suits glistened in the morning light coming in through the large window across the room. The equally as expensive cologne wafting in thick waves off the trio quickly permeated the cool air of the office. These were people who didn't exercise much moderation, judging by the gold and silver glinting on their necks and hands.

Constable Benton Fraser took in a long quieting breath and stood. An automatic smile crossed his features and he approached them, but soon stopped so that there was at least five feet between them.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen and lady. Are you interested in learning more about our fair neighbor to the north?"

Although he knew they weren't there to pick up brochures about the finer points of Canada, he felt it was something he should say.

The two white men exchanged puzzled looks, while the black woman that stood at the forefront merely returned his smile.

"That's not what we're here for, Constable Fraser. You're a smart man. You should know that."

The young woman who'd spoken so softly sounded erudite, and had a slight east coast accent. She pronounced Fraser as Fra-sier instead of the usual mispronunciation of, Fra-sher. She looked to be in her early thirties, slim and elegant in her dark well-cut suit, with short frosty blonde tinted hair and blue wire frames shades. Her dark eyes were slightly hidden by the bluish tint of the lenses.

"And you are?" Fraser asked.

The woman smiled brightly and straightened her back.

"Lenore McNichol, Constable Fraser. And I'm sorry. I don't know your first name."

"Is it important?" Fraser asked, creasing his brow.

"Just interested."

Fraser decided to indulge her.

"Benton," he answered flatly.

"Benton Fraser," she mused, smiling a little. "Constable Benton Fraser."

Lenore tapped at her chin with her middle finger, letting her eyes drift across the room.

"What an interesting name. Do you have a middle name?"

Her eyes were back on his and her smile broadened.

"No."

"Hmm... I guess then that it's not too bad. Maybe something like... Robert would have been fitting for a middle name. In honor of your dad."

Fraser felt the heat leech from his face and the woman's smile tightened because she noticed his color change. She had known about his father, had known that his name was Robert. What else did she know?

Fraser grasped the bottoms of his jacket and straightened his serge before clasping his hands behind him, affecting a disinterested air.

"I can't help you with anything else, then," he said, letting his eyes lazily rove their faces. "If you're not here for Canadian purposes."

The young woman set her jaw and the shades slipped down her broad shapely nose. She pointed a slender finger at Fraser. Ben noticed that her fingernails were painted a metallic shade of blue and the same color of the Band-Aid that she'd wrapped about its tip. She came back to the matter at hand.

"But I think you can. You see we know that you've had some earlier... dealings with our associate, Mr. Frank Zuko, although they were not all... pleasant for you. We just want to know where your loyalty lies."

Fraser nearly laughed at the absurdity of the woman's statement. She was taking herself much too seriously and obviously expected everyone else around her to do the same.

"Well!" he said with a little more alacrity than usual. "I can assure you that I find Mr. Frank Zuko to be as repulsive as they come. If he's looking for loyalty, he will not find it with me."

There. He'd said it. The fighting words were out in the open and he saw the young woman's face pinch. The smile on Fraser's lips lengthened almost challengingly. He wasn't going to take another beating, while standing there like a fool, as he had done in that shipping hallway at PMCL. Any confrontation was going to be on his terms and his alone. And then it was happening. One of the men standing behind the woman came at him.

For Fraser, reality slowed to a crawl and he stood there, holding his breath and watching the full on attack.

Violence, Fraser thought, mentally tsk-ing. Is that all we as humans know?

Quite abruptly time raced to full speed and without thinking, he reached up and easily contacted with the side of the man's outstretched fist. Using any of the simple laws of inertia and gravity, with his open palm, Fraser directed the blow sideways and into the wall. The man howled as his unprepared fist smashed into concrete instead of soft Mountie flesh. Fraser allowed the man's body to continue its travel into the wall before he reached down and grabbed the mobster's arm. He yanked it upwards, along his back, savagely straining the bone from its shoulder socket. The man cried out in anger and pain.

Fraser pressed his weight into the man's back, and neatly held him at bay. He stood there for a moment with his eyes trained on the other two as he tried to think of something witty to say. The words failed him. If Ray were there, he could have easily helped him come up with a clever retort.

Instead he said slowly, as he released the man from his iron grip, and pushed him away,

"I believe, that our association here has come to an end. Please, have a good afternoon."

Rubbing his wounded shoulder, the man stumbled away from the barely breathing Mountie and back to his place behind the front woman. She hadn't moved at all, as she still held Fraser's gaze.

The young woman then snickered at Fraser. She gestured for the two men to leave the office. While they did so, closing the door behind, the woman stood there peering curiously at Fraser over the tops of her glasses for a long tense moment before her face softened.

As she turned to go, she said over her shoulder,

"Those were some nice moves there, Constable. Quick thinking. Quick, quick, quick. Next time; let's see how you do against a bullet. I don't think you can move that fast."

Fraser stiffened at the thinly veiled threat. Was the woman going to shoot him dead right in his own office? His mind slipped sideways. If she did, Turnbull would absolutely die when he saw the mess. But no bullet came. The young woman then cast a startlingly seductive smile back at Fraser before closing the door very quietly behind her.

Ben stood there staring at the closed door for what seemed an eternity before all his energy leaked from him and he sagged against the corner of the desk. He put a hand to his flushed forehead and took a moment to regain himself. A frantic knocking at the door let Fraser know that Turnbull had not taken his advice and had been eagerly waiting outside in the alcove until his visitors left. Fraser ignored him for the moment. Dief came out of his hiding place in the closet and insistently nudged his hand, giving to him some support. Then he phoned the only other person to whom he could tell what had happened. He needed to warn Ray.

Ray sat at his desk and massaged the red and white foam ball in his hands as he stared unseeing at the papers strewn across the desktop.

"Do I pay you to sit here with dreams of playing for the NBA?"

Lieutenant Welsh's voice interrupted his thoughts and Ray Vecchio, barely glancing at his boss, he used his knee to open the side drawer of his desk and dropped the ball into it. He pushed it shut with his foot.

"No, sir," Ray said wearily, "you do not."

Welsh stared at him a moment, suspicious with the man's uncharacteristic acquiescence and he knew something was wrong. He tried to make amends.

"Where's the Mountie? I haven't seen him in a while."

"He's got his own job to do, sir," Ray answered straightening the case file papers into a neat pile so that he could pretend to go through them in an orderly fashion.

Welsh put his hand on his hip. Vecchio had been acting strangely as of late and he wondered if Fraser's absence had anything to do with it.

"That never stopped him from poking his nose in before, detective. Now did it?"

"No, sir," Ray ground out. "I guess it didn't."

Welsh grimaced and turned to go towards his enclosed office.

"Detective," he said over his shoulder. "Join me in my office, will you."

Ray snorted to himself. He was not in the mood to be bothered with questions about his personal life. He was afraid that if the lieutenant persisted he might spill his guts. He flipped closed the manila case folder pushed himself away from the desk and went into Welsh's office.

"Close the door," said the man behind the scarred green desk.

Ray pushed closed the door and the venetian blinds softly clunked against the glass.

"Have a seat, detective," Welsh invited him, gesturing to one of the worn leather cushioned chairs in front of the desk.

Ray resigned with a sigh and sank uneasily into the chair.

"No more dancing around, detective. Either you tell me what's wrong with you, or you get your act together."

Ray twined his fingers together feeling a surge of anger heating the tightness in his chest. He lifted his bowed head and stared directly into the hard face of his lieutenant.

"I want to thank you, sir, for your generous concern," he ground out between clenched teeth. "There's nothing wrong with me. I assure you."

Welsh inwardly winced. He usually came off too hard with Ray, who usually took things very personally. Hot head piasian. He watched Ray get to his feet, straighten the lapels of his lavender jacket and give him a perfunctory nod before he left the office. Ray went back to his desk and dropped heavily into the uncushioned chair with a doleful groan. He was going insane. He had to get out of the station. The walls were closing in on him. He glanced around at the busy cops wondering if they had on their minds as much as he had on his. Were they going crazy too?

His cell phone rang, breaking him out of his muse.

"What?" he asked.

"Hi, Ray," said the cheery voice on the other end.

Ray grinned to himself. If anybody could take his mind off his troubles, it was Fraser.

"Hey, Benny. What's up?"

Ray sat back in the chair, scooting left then right to make himself comfortable. He heard the Mountie uneasily clear his throat. Something was definitely amiss, for Fraser rarely balked at talking about anything.

"I just wanted to - ah - check in with you. To see if you are all right."

Ray felt sudden and embarrassingly unexpected tears burn in his dry eyes. Fraser could be so callous and single minded sometimes, but when he was careful and mindful, it always gouged at his heart.

"Thank you, Benny. I appreciate your concern," Ray said, smiling at the phone.

He heard the man exhale with relief.

"So, you're o.k., Ray?" he asked, again.

"Yea, Benny. I'm fine. I promise."

"O.k., then, Ray. It's just that..."

Ray listened to the pause stretch on the line, but said nothing.

"I'm glad," Ben continued. "I'm glad you're o.k."

"What is it, Benny. Talking to you is like dancing with a porcupine."

"There were... I got a visit from a few people this morning. And I just wanted to warn you, Ray. Or rather, I wanted to tell you about it."

"What kind of people, Fraser?" Ray demanded sitting upright in the chair.

He knew all to well who had gone to visit the Mountie and he was outraged that Zuko would have the balls to openly threaten Fraser, of all people.

"What did they say to you, Benny? Did they threaten you?"

"The threat was thinly veiled. Nothing that would hold up in court. I handled the situation. You would have been pleased with me."

Ray relaxed at the note of pride in Fraser's voice and he smiled again.

"I'm sure I would have, Benny," he answered, chuckling a bit. "But we're not talking about holding up in court... ah... tell me what happened?"

Fraser took a breath and began in great detail to relay what had taken place in his office only moments ago. Ray listened with growing anger and by the time Fraser had finished his tale, Ray was clenching the plastic receiver in an iron grip. He kept his voice calm when he spoke.

"But, you're ok, huh Benny?"

"I'm fine, Ray. Never better."

"Sure. O.k. O.k. I'll take care of it."

Ray worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Don't, Ray," Fraser cautioned, hoping his friend wouldn't do anything drastic. "It'll..."

Ray interrupted him.

"It'll only get worse, Benny. If I don't do something about it."

"Ray..."

"Look, Benny. I gotta go. I'll still meet you for lunch."

"Yes, Ray. Of course."

"Bye, Benny," Ray whispered and broke the connection.

As he sat there a moment, rubbing his eyes and trying to distance himself from the clamor and discord of the precinct, he noticed a young well dressed man, sitting beside a detective's empty desk across the room. He looked smart and out of place amongst the thieves and gaudily dressed hookers. His black hair was neatly slicked back from his high forehead with too much shiny styling gel. When the young man saw him watching, he proceeded to smile pleasantly and then raise a handcuffed hand in a wave.

Ray averted his eyes. The young man sat there a moment, watching Ray before he cautiously got up, looked about the station and then made his way over to the detective. He sat down in the chair nearest to Ray at the side of the desk, but Ray didn't bother to look up.

"Yea? What?" he wanted to know.

The kid cleared his throat and self consciously licked at the cold sore that crusted one corner of his mouth.

"I gotta message for you," he said, his voice cracking.

Ray glared at him. Up close, the kid looked greasy faced and acne ridden. He didn't look as smart as he had from afar, and his single eyebrow made Ray want to laugh. He looked scared and his eyes were bright with jittery energy and who'd ever sent him to bother Ray had pumped up the kid's ego so much he was feeling his own self worth.

"Listen, kid," Ray warned him. "If this is from one of your namby-pamby bosses, about how my life is in danger, you'd better save it."

The kid's pride was clearly damaged and a frown pinched the angry red pimples above his uni-brow. Ray hated an unkempt face and itched to pull out the offending hairs himself.

"You got me all wrong," said the kid. "It's just that my boss, Mr. Zuko, just wantsta know how you are doing. And he wants me to give you this, as a present."

He lifted his braceleted hands to reach into his jacket's inner pocket. Ray's hand shot out and as he grabbed the kid's forearm, the boy yelped helplessly in surprise.

"I don't want it," Ray snarled.

Ray then noticed that the detective at whose desk the kid had been sitting had returned and he called out to her.

"Hey Smythe. Come get this kid. Is he yours?"

The woman looked up and went to retrieve her charge. As he was yanked away, the boy pulled out a stiff piece of folded paper and tossed it onto Ray's desk. Ray gusted a sigh and reluctantly picked it up. He turned the warm piece of paper in his hands before flipping it open with the side of his thumb. He looked down at a colour picture of himself in full dress uniform. Over the picture was a sloppy red circled 'X'. What looked like something that had been penned in later was a dastardly Dan type bicycle moustache in blue ink on his upper lip. Normally something like that would have been funny to him, but he was hard pressed to find any amusement in that.

Later that day, as Ray Vecchio drew close to the consular building, he spotted Fraser and Dief out front, the both of them, standing like statues by the front doors. Ray groaned to himself and pulled into an available space. He put the car into park and waited for a moment, watching the Mountie and his wolf staring out into space. He stared at them, wondering what was going on.

What did he do to get guard duty now?

Ray thought pulling himself out of the car. Buttoning his coat, he strolled over to the Mountie, who, much to his surprise averted his eyes onto him.

"Hi, Ray," he smiled brightly.

"I thought you weren't supposed to move," Ray said as he came near.

Fraser frowned slightly.

"Not supposed to move?"

"When you're on duty. Aren't you supposed to be really still, not blink, breathe, shit like that."

"Ah. No, Ray. I'm not on duty."

"Then why the hellerya standing there like a rock for?"

Fraser turned his eyes to the wolf that sat at his feet and then grinned a little.

"Staring contest."

Ray's brows arched and he looked down at Dief. The large playful brown eyes looked back at him and Ray shook his head.

"You're having a staring contest with the furball, here?"

Fraser nodded.

"He's winning."

Ray snorted out a sudden guffaw and clapped a hand to his forehead. He chuckled into his palm. It was now definite, Fraser had lost his mind.

"You're getting crazier by the moment, Fraser. You know that?"

"I'm just making up for how I treated him this morning," explained the Mountie. "He wanted to play, so we played."

"Dief likes staring contests?" Ray asked in disbelief, gesturing that they walk towards the car.

"Oh, yes," Fraser answered, following him to the still running Riv. "All the time. It's his favorite. But I think he cheats."

Dief, trotting along behind the two men, whined at the accusation.

"You do," Fraser teased, turning his head so that Dief could see his mouth. "And don't say you don't."

"I though you're supposed to be staring at each other, not at other people. Aren't you supposed to be seeing who blinks first?"

Fraser stopped by the side of the car and looked thoughtful.

"Believe me, Ray," he said looking at Ray. "I've tried to tell him that. But he insists on playing by his rules."

Ray shook his head again. Playing by the wolf's rules. Fraser most definitely had screws loose.

"O.kay, Benny," he said going around to the driver's side. "Whatever you say."

Ben opened the door and popped back the front seat for the wolf before he got in himself. The warmth of the car was stifling and he let out a breath. When Ray got in and pulled shut the door, Fraser commented on the heat.

"A little warm, eh?"

Ray looked at him a moment.

"Oh, yea. I was just getting cold. Is it too much for you?"

Ray reached down to adjust the heat, but Fraser reached out to stop him. But he yanked back as if he's been burned when his fingertips touched the back of Ray's hand.

"No, Ray. It's fine. And besides, Dief will enjoy it."

"Yea, but I don't want to be cooking you in here, Benny. I know how much you like the arctic. I'll just turn it down a little."

"All right, Ray," he said a little absently, not wanting to argue with Ray about the heat in the car.

Fraser took in another hot breath and looked over at Ray, who was watching the passing traffic and waiting for an opening. He studied his strong profile for a moment and then let his eyes linger over the curve of his ear before noticing the small dark beauty mark that decorated the spot just behind his lobe. Fraser stared at it with some fascination, but after a moment, he shook himself and sat back. It felt odd to be sharing the same worry with Ray. Most of the time, they were on two different planes of consciousness. But presently, they both were dead on and a little part of him for some strange reason, felt proud to be that way.

"So you had some visitors, huh, Benny?"

"Yes, Ray," he answered looking out of the side window.

"Tell me again what they wanted."

"The woman, just wanted to..."

"What was her name. You never told me."

"Lenore McNichol," Fraser said looking over at him. "I didn't recognize her."

Ray nodded.

"I don't recognize the name either. We can go through some mugshots. Run her, see if she has a record. O.k. Benny. Go on."

"She and the gentlemen that were with her, came to find where my loyalty lay with Mr. Zuko. But honestly Ray I don't understand why they would think that I would be loyal to him."

"Yea, being that he put you through the wringer over Joey Paducci."

Fraser grimaced, not wanting to remember that cold November evening when he ran like a mindless fool after one of Zuko's henchmen only to find himself cornered and then beaten within an inch of his life.

"Exactly," Fraser went on. "So that leads me to believe that she came there for an entirely different reason than for what she said."

"Like what?"

Fraser shrugged, and hated to speak his thoughts.

"Maybe they're visiting all the people who may have connections to you, Ray."

Ray was silent for a long time, letting Fraser's words echo in his head.

He ran his hands over the leather covered steering wheel and gently guided the car back out into traffic. It was early in the lunch hour, so there weren't that many people out and about. The sun was high in the noon sky, and brightened all the snow-covered wastes of Chicago. Ray flipped down the sun visor and settled back into the comfortable leather upholstered driver's seat. He always felt safe and secure inside the Riv and that afternoon was no different.

Fraser, sensing a change in Ray's manner, decided to change the subject.

"What are you hungry for?"

"Oh, I dunno. I guess something simple. I'm not that hungry. Feeling a little sick right now anyway."

"You're not well, Ray?" Fraser asked, concerned and knew right away the cause of his friend's nausea.

"Just a little upset stomach, Benny," Ray assured him. "Nothing to get all twisted up about."

"Might I suggest some soup, then," Fraser said. "It'll be easier settling down."

"That sounds good, Benny. I think I'll like that."

They sat in silence for a long time before Ray said,

"Well, do you have a place in mind? I don't think they have any soup joints around here."

Fraser smiled a little shyly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I... well... I just made some last night, you're welcome to it. To save you some money."

Ray gave Fraser a glance before he smiled in return.

"Sure, Benny. That'll be great."

For once, Fraser's apartment was warm, and Ray immediately took off his coat as soon as he stepped inside 3J. The Mountie took off his own coat and stetson, which he both lay carefully over the neatly made bed.

"The furnace on the fritz?" Ray asked indicating to the heat as he sat at the small table.

Fraser rummaged through the refrigerator and kicking shut the door after he retrieved the foil wrapped bowl, he said,

"I don't know, Ray. It is unusual for the temperature to be quite so high in here. Does it bother you, would you like me to open the window? Are you still feeling cold?"

"No, no, Benny," Ray said hastily. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked going to the stove.

"Yep," Ray answered leaning back in the hard chair.

Fraser flicked the stove eye to medium and dumped out the contents of the blue ceramic bowl into a saucepan. He stirred the pale yellow contents with a spoon for a moment, just staring down at the swirling chopped bits of vegetables and chicken.

"What kind it is?" Ray asked. "Not that it really matters. I like 'em all."

"Chicken," Fraser told him.

Ray rubbed his hands together.

"Good. I like chicken."

Fraser went to sit at the table across from Ray and he folded his hands on the table. Ben rubbed the side of his left thumb with his right.

"It'll just be a moment," he said indicating to the soup.

They sat in silence for a beat before Fraser spoke.

"Tell me what's going on, Ray."

Ray started, surprised that the Mountie could be so straightforward. Usually getting Fraser to say anything remotely direct took tooth-pulling.

"I already told you, Benny. I don't know anymore."

Fraser raised a dark brow.

"But something happened to make you suspect that something is going to happen. Didn't it."

Ray didn't like the tone of that flat statement and he fidgeted in the chair a bit. He didn't know why he was surprised at Fraser's reactions and observation. Fraser always had a knack of seeing right into him, although he always downplayed that he understood what was going on around him.

"Yea, Benny. Ok? You got me. Something did happen. But, the more I talk about it, the madder I'm gonna get."

"It's useless to get angry, Ray," Fraser cautioned. "The best thing to do is to keep calm and think through this rationally."

Easy for you to say, Ray thought sullenly

"I am calm," Ray protested finally. "I'm calm as they come. It's them that I'm worried about."

"Who's them? Do you mean just Zuko?"

"Obviously not, Benny. Being that he's got associates going about visiting friendly neighborhood Mounties."

Ray shook his head. Fraser frowned at the reference and reached up to rub his eyebrow with his thumbnail. He was at a loss, didn't know what to say. The whole situation seemed rapidly getting out of hand and he had no idea how to stop it, or help Ray to stop it. And to make matters worse, he knew Ray was definitely not being straight with him.

"Have you talked with your leftenant?" Fraser asked, trying another approach.

"No, way, Benny. I gotta handle this on my own."

"But, why, Ray?" he asked, desperately. "Maybe there's something he can do."

"I just have to do this, Benny. You just have to understand," Ray insisted, clenching his hands together beneath the table.

"I don't understand," Fraser answered, a little more heatedly than he intended. "Why don't you explain it to me."

Ray's eyes shot up and they locked onto Fraser's. He definitely didn't appreciate the tone coming out of him.

Who do you think you're talking to like that? He wanted to ask.

"Look, Benny. I know you want to help. But you should just stay out of this. I don't want you getting hurt or killed because of something I got into."

Fraser softened immediately.

"Please," he began softly. "Please let me help. Don't shut me out, Ray. I don't like seeing you like this."

Fraser strained to keep control over his feelings. He strained to keep from screaming at Ray, and trying to make him realize how foolish he was being before it was too late.

Ray stared at him long and hard. And he was afraid.

"My mother got black roses last week," he said softly. "Frannie nearly got her head taken off when she was getting off from work by some maniac who left a business card in her bra. You got a visit from some people. It's all adding up. I've seen this before. All I need is a horse's head in my bed and the nightmare will be complete."

"That's television, Ray," Fraser said.

"You don't understand, Benny. This is real life. I've seen those things happening when I was growing up. Now it's happening to me. Somebody's got a hit out on my head. I told you this morning that I though it was Zuko and now I know it's him, from what happened to you, it's Zuko."

The bubbling of the soup caught Fraser's attention and he got up to take it off the eye. He served a bowl full to Ray and made himself a sandwich. As they sat there and ate, it was obvious that the discussion was over.

After lunch, Ray took Fraser back to the consulate and himself back to the precinct, where the day continued without much incident. He and Fraser did not mention a word of their earlier discussion during the drive home that evening. Ray refused Fraser's offer for coffee, knowing that coffee would lead to more poking and prodding from the Mountie. He was tired but he had something important to do.

Although he'd told Fraser that he was going straight to bed, Ray Vecchio had only been telling part of the truth. He made a little detour on his way back to his home.

The big square, brick house on Walker Avenue sat silent and still among the piles of graying snow and freshly laid pavement. The driveway had just been redone and the scent of macadam still lingered in the air. But inside the house was quiet. All the children had gone to bed, the serving staff had all retired and the only light on in the house came from the front study.

It was cool inside the surprisingly small study, despite the slow simmering fire in the hearth and Lenore McNichol stood quietly just inside the doorway, watching her boss pace back and forth. His tall form and broad shoulders reminded her of the Mountie she'd met earlier that day. She'd come to see her boss and to talk about the Canadian.

"You say he's an actual Mountie?" asked the man beside the fire.

James Gliozoni rubbed his clean shaved chin a moment, considering the woman's words.

"Red serge and all, sir," she said politely. "Canadian consulate smack dab in the middle of the city."

"I knew it was there," Gliozoni continued, "but I'd always though it was just a formality. They don' t have any real power here."

He chuckled.

"Though they like to think they do."

Lenore nodded in the cozy dimness and clasped her hands before her. Gliozoni turned his head just slightly and looked at her, wondering why, whenever she came into his private domain, she never made herself comfortable. She was an attractive woman, with all the right qualities he looked for in a woman, strong, bold, reserved, and sexy. He thought to ask her exactly that, but let the useless words stall in his throat. He didn't pay her for her companionship. He paid her to work.

"Have a seat," he said and listened to the soft rustling of her clothing as she crossed the room to perch upon the arm of one of the two high backed deep blue leather wing chairs that faced the fire.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Gliozoni asked when she didn't speak.

"I want the Mountie," she said finally.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Gliozoni turned in surprise. Never had he heard her express any wants or desires outside of the business. All he had expected from her was a cool professionalism, and that was all he got, until this.

"You want the Mountie? What for?"

He tried to keep the jealousy out of his tone. Why would she want some silly Canadian wearing a silly get-up, when all she had to do was say 'yes' to him and she cold have the most powerful man in Chicago. There was no comparison.

"He had such a beautiful face," Lenore answered, sounding thoughtful.

Gliozoni cringed, but kept silent and stayed in the shadows to hide his growing anger.

"I mean, absolutely exquisite. Big blue eyes, glossy black hair, luscious lips. Boy scout type. If there ever were a word to describe such beauty on a man, exquisite would be it for him."

She sighed.

Gliozoni interrupted.

"So what you want is for me to get him for you?"

Lenore continued as if he hadn't spoken and said a bit dreamily, "I just want to take a long sharp knife and slice up all that prettiness. He'll bleed as--"

An unexpected laugh bubbled out from his lips. Lenore shot an annoyed look at his shadowed form.

"I'm not kidding," she confirmed. "He stood in that office, evaded Barry as easily as sidestepping a turtle and then gave me this little smirk, like he was saying, "fuck you, bitch"."

"So you want to cut him up for that?" Gliozoni asked. "I thought you had more couth than that."

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "I have no couth at all when it comes to things like that."

She laughed.

Gliozoni shook his head and came to stand near to her. He looked down into her brown face and shook his head again.

"It doesn't look good for business if I have my men going around cutting up pretty Mounties just for the hell of it."

Lenore grimaced. She had known it was probably a mistake going to her boss for permission. She could have easily done away with the Mountie and no one would have been the wiser.

"Fine," she said. "That's fine. I understand."

James reached down, curled his finger beneath her chin and lifted her face.

"Why don't you consider settling for me, instead. I may not be the boy scout type, but I have my badges of honor."

Lenore smiled sweetly at him and shook loose her chin from his grasp. She couldn't count the number of times he'd propositioned her, just as he did in that moment. Or how many times she refused him. She just didn't like to mix business with pleasure. And on top of that, if the big boss ever got taken down, it was always the lover that got it in the back of the head next. And she didn't want to go out like that. She wanted to escape with her brains intact.

"About Zuko," she said abruptly and sighed inwardly with relief when James drew back.

"What about him?" he asked, the note of disgust clearly evident in his voice.

"He hadn't gotten back with me, as of yet."

"And you left the message with him personally?" he asked in surprise.

How dare that little pissant defy a direct order! He clenched his hands into fists.

"This fucking Zuko isn't worth the dirt it'll take to bury him!"

Lenore snickered softly.

"I'll take care of him," she assured her boss. "Just give me a day."

"I know you can take care of it, Lenore," he said kindly. "I know you can. Just as I know you won't touch him without me saying so. And I don't say that you can."

"Sir," she began. "With all due respect. I believe that this whole farce is going to get out of hand. There are much too many variables. You've got the two cops and you've got Zuko. You've got the Family breathing down your neck, and all for what? To prove a point? Sir, it just doesn't make sense."

Lenore spoke so gently, that James didn't have the gumption to get angry at her insolence.

He stood there for a moment. He didn't want to give her an explanation.

"It will all work out in the end... for the better," he said.

They were quiet for a moment, just listening to the snapping of the burning wood in the hearth.

"Stay on Zuko. Keep an eye on him. I'll take care of what needs to be done by him. Don't you do a thing. Understood?"

"Yes."

Lenore stood and stretched her back imperceptibly.

"I've got some work to do," she said and the quickly left him alone in the room.

James looked down at the place where she'd once sat and sighed. He was going to get her yet. James turned away from the chair and went to his desk. He trailed his fingers along the sleek back of the phone before he picked it up. He dialed the familiar numbers and waited for an answer on the other end.

Somewhere across the windy city, a man sat alone at a huge oak desk that gleamed in the dim overhead Tiffany light. He was tired and agitated and he was beginning to hate the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone.

"You need to work with us, Frankie," said the voice. "Your not doing this, makes me think that you're not appreciating the things I've done for you. It was me that got you into the Family. I can take you out of it."

Frank Zuko ran a hand through his hair.

"I know, Mr. Gliozoni. I know. I just need a little time. Getting a hit together isn't an easy thing."

"You're telling me about a hit?" questioned the voice, in palpable disbelief. "You were still shitting your diapers when I as running New York City. So don't tell me about getting a hit together. I know. I wrote the book."

Frank winced at the analogy.

"That's not what I meant, Mr. Gliozoni," Frank said hastily.

He changed the phone to the other ear. James Gliozoni was the last man he wanted angry with him, and he tried all he could to stay out of the man's way. But the demands were coming faster than he could handle and he'd often wondered if he should have just stayed in New Jersey. He wished he hadn't met Lenore McNichol at that jazz club in Newark. He wished she hadn't been so sweet and tender. Then maybe he wouldn't have fallen for her lines and let her convince him to return to Chicago with her. Frank just really wanted to believe that he was needed in the city that'd turned its back on him. After all he'd done. Simply turned its back.

But he did believe her, and there he was back in the same predicament that caused his departure.

"I will do it, Mr. Gliozoni. I've started the ball rolling already, as I'm sure you know."

James snorted at Zuko's paltry attempts at getting a hit rolling.

"This isn't grade school, Zuko," he said. "You can't just scrawl some bad words on the little boy's room wall and expect to be taken seriously. I expect more concrete evidence, other than sending one of mine out with a cardboard-backed photo with an 'X' over it. You have to be more complete. I did you a favor, dispatching out to the Mountie and the cop's family members... his sweet little tart of a sister and his mother. I did this all in your name. So that he knew it was from you. I won't do anymore to help you."

Frank sighed softly. Gliozoni was asking a lot from him. Cop killing brought a lot of heat down and it was just something he didn't want to deal with.

"Just Ray Vecchio strolling around on intact legs, is an insult to you, Zuko. Don't you know that?"

James continued to speak, and he smirked to himself.

"And you don't want that, now do you?"

"No, Mr. Gliozoni. I don't," said Frank.

"Good then. I will expect something to happen within the week. If not... well, I can't guarantee that you'll be able to stay in shop much longer. We expect results and we expect them fast."

"Yes, sir," Frank said to empty space, for Gliozoni had already broken the connection. "Thank you, sir."

Frank Zuko wearily put the phone back into the cradle and put his head in both his hands. Unfortunately, for him and his conscience, he hadn't already come to terms with his feelings about Ray Vecchio. He still had bones to pick with his long time enemy. And James Gliozoni knew that and used Vecchio as a condition for admission to the most exclusive club in town. And Frank, seeing a way to redeem himself, and do away with Vecchio, just couldn't refuse.

Ray Vecchio drove down side streets and through alleys trying to find the place. He'd gone to it so many times in his youth with his father that he had memorized the route of passage. But as time went on, and he no longer had a reason to go there, he'd forgotten how to get there. But as he slipped through the night streets, the route became clear as the day his father had first taken him there.

There was snow and trash strewn everywhere. Hooded eyes and deceitful beings peered out of their own personal hells to watch the sleek emerald automobile slide by. It had once been a nice neighborhood, kids playing in the street, old ladies watering their flower planters. But that was twenty years ago. It had been overcome with rot and disease and the people that had stayed to protect their land were overcome as well.

Geez, he thought, peering out at the waste. It was worst than Fraser's hood.

Ray pulled the Riv beneath a sputtering streetlight and sat in the car for a long time, just staring out of the front windshield at the crumbling brick building across the street. He sighed and rubbed his hands over the top of his shorn head. He really didn't want to go in there, but he knew he had to. Ray stroked his fingers along the ridges of the key half sticking out of the ignition waiting for some act of God to make him stick it back in and tear the hell out of there. But no lightning bolt came, no flashes of light. Ray got out of the car, locked it carefully and dashed across the street and into the building.

Ray stood on the bare landing of the second floor, holding his breath. All the lights above were out; whether on purpose or by accident, he wasn't sure. And there were no normal sounds of occupancy coming from the apartments. He walked slowly, carefully placing his footsteps as to not make too much noise and he didn't knock when he got to the door at the end of the hallway. He turned the knob and walked into the darkened apartment. It smelled of boiled cabbage and something else rank he didn't want to begin to identify.

"Who is it??" hissed a voice from somewhere to his right.

Ray froze, seeing the sudden flashing gleam of a handgun and he put up his hands.

"It's me, little Ray."

"Little Ray?" asked the voice, harsh and husky with age. "Little... little... little Ray."

A weary chuckle reverberated against the ancient walls.

"I wondered when you'd show up."

Ray let the door close behind him and stood in the dark for a moment, letting his eyes adjust. The only light in the room came from the bare window across the room.

"You remember me?" Ray asked, keeping his voice loud enough so that the woman could hear him.

"Of course I remember my little Ray. He was my pride and joy."

Ray's great aunt Marnie laughed again and Ray relaxed when he heard it.

"Was, aunt Marnie?" Ray asked, walking over the window. "I'm not anymore?"

He leaned his hands against the decaying sill and stared down at the black night's street.

"You don't come 'round here no more, little Ray," she answered absently. "You or your good for nothing, father."

"Dad's dead," Ray told her without hesitation. "I don't think he's gonna be coming anymore."

"Dead. Dead, dead, dead..."

She tsk-ed and chuckled again.

"Good. Serves him right."

Ray turned from the window and looked across the room to where his aunt's figure was barely visible as she sat in the corner. The top of the rocking chair loomed over her small head and Ray could just make out where a shotgun blast had taken off half the intricately carved wood right above her head. It had been there for the longest time and every time Ray came to visit her, she would relay the story of...

"I was sitting in this very same chair when Al Capone and his gang busted up in here, firing their guns at me and your Uncle Francis. That's how your Uncle Francis lost his good eye and I lost part of my chair."

She pointed up at the frayed wood with the muzzle of her Sig Sauer.

"See, right there. If I hadn't bent down to get my knitting needle out of my bag to stab one of those bastards, that would have been my head."

Ray sat in the rickety chair near the window feeling ten years old again. He couldn't count the number of times his aunt had told him that story.

>>
A beam of sunlight cut across the room and the whole place lit up revealing a cheery clean living room, and his aunt sitting in a rocking chair knitting contentedly.

"That's not true, auntie Marnie," he heard himself saying in that excited ten year old boy's voice.

"Oh, sure it is, little Ray," she answered with a slight laugh. "Sure it is. You want me to get the eye that they shot outta your uncle's head? We got it hid in a glass jar fulla water."

From somewhere out of the kitchen, little Ray could hear his uncle chuckling as his wife retold the story.

A squeal of pleasure erupted from the boy and he got up from his seat. He couldn't wait to see the eye, he wondered if it would blink and turn around in the glass jar to look at him. Wow, the things he could tell the boys at school. That'll show that big shot... >>

"...Frankie Zuko..."

Ray startled himself out of his past, as he realized he'd said something. He opened his eyes only to not find himself in the brightly lit, yellow and crme colored living room of his Aunt Marnie and Uncle Francis's apartment, but in the dank abysmal shell of what it once was. Ray sighed and folded his hands between his knees.

"Ahh yes. Frankie Zuko," said his aunt's voice. "He's been looking for you, little Ray."

"Has he?" Ray asked looking up at her shadowed form. "Has he really? He been bothering you Aunt Marnie?"

A rusty laugh drifted out of her lungs.

"Frankie Zuko? Bother me? Heh... I've seen and dealt with far worse than that little sniveling coward."

Ray smiled at his aunt. She was always the one with the spine of steel, unlike his uncle, whose brave words and no backup got him killed. If Marnie said something, she'd stick her ubiquitous knitting needle in your eye to prove she meant it.

"But, my little Ray. You need to be careful. He's playing some rough games and I don't want to see you getting hurt."

"It's too late aunt Marnie. It's way too late for that. I'm already playing. I'm gonna play."

He heard her sigh.

"Just like your uncle..."

Ray stiffened. Was he like his uncle? Did he have anything to back up his words?

"Aunt Marnie," Ray began. "Anybody else coming around, sniffing at you?"

"They're always around. Wanting to know what I know. I don't pay them no mind."

"Anybody new, you don't recognize from the old neighborhood?"

She cleared her throat and Ray could hear her tapping her fingernails on the shiny casing of the gun.

"A few," she said, sound thoughtful.

Ray thought of the small black woman Fraser had described to him, the one that had paid the Mountie a visit.

"Any black women come by?" he asked.

The woman in the chair started rocking, and the bent rockers of the chair creaked ominously.

"One. She was very nice. I could smell the mob on her."

Ray sighed. They were very thorough. Very thorough indeed. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. What was he going up against? And then he thought about Fraser. They'd found him once. They'd known who he was. God only knew what they'd do to Fraser in order to get at him.

Ray got up from the chair.

"Anything else you want to tell me?" he asked his aunt.

A quiet beeping sounded in the small room before she could answer.

What's that?

His aunt dug into the folds of her robe and pulled out a cellular phone.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Little Ray. It's for you."

Ray walked closer to the woman in the chair, holding his breath as the smell of that something rank increased as he drew near. He took the phone from her frail hand.

"What?"

"Hey, Ray. I finally found you. I knew you'd see your aunt Marnie sooner or later."

Frank Zuko's voice was chipper and awake. Ray pinched his eyes closed in anger.

"Don't you ever call here again. You hear me," he snarled.

"Oh, I won't," Frank said indulgently. "All I want is you, Ray. Meet me someplace, huh?"

"What for?" Ray asked, his cop senses tingling painfully.

"I just wanna talk."

"So talk. You got me now."

"I wanna see your face. After all this time. I'm back in town. We should get together."

"No."

"Are you chicken?" Frank taunted, hoping to draw him out.

Ray opened his eyes and knowing with all his heart that some schoolyard taunt shouldn't have affected him, but he'd had enough. He'd taken his fill of sleepless nights, indigestion, worrying his family and his friends.

"O.k. Frankie. Name the place. I'll be there."

"Good, Ray. You did good."

Ray shut off the phone once Frank Zuko stopped talking and handed it back to his aunt.

"I gotta go," he said. "I'll come back by later."

The woman chuckled and was still chuckling when Ray left her alone.

"No you won't," she murmured and chuckled and rocked some more.

Walker Avenue

"He's going to meet with Vecchio."

"When?"

"Tonight. At the warehouse."

"Stupid."

"Yes. I know."

"Who'd he invite to the party?"

"Just Barry and Jim."

"Tell Barry and Jim to take the night off."

A soft laugh.

"Yes, sir."

Ray was glad that at least Mr. Mustafi had a phone.

"I know, Benny, just listen to me. I just wanted to let you know where I'm going and what's happening."

"Ray. That's not a good idea for you to go there alone."

"Benny. If I don't come back after tonight, then you know what happened. You can tell Welsh. I just need someone to... just to take care of things for me. Can you do that?"

"Ray! Please. This is suicide. You know what's waiting for you there."

"I know, Benny. I know. I just have to do this. I can't go like this anymore. Being scared."

"No. Ray. I can't, then. If you won't listen to reason, then I won't do this for you. Find someone else."

Silence.

"Thank you, Benny. But at least tell my mother first, before you tell Welsh."

"So, you decided you have the cuhones to come out tonight, eh, Ray?"

Frank Zuko's voice echoed off the cavernous walls of the abandoned chocolate factory storage unit. Ray said nothing as he walked towards the man who stood near the center of the room. Frank Zuko looked pudgy and tired. Ray could only guess that Jersey had been treating him well.

"What do you want, Frankie?" Ray called out. "You asking for another ass beating? 'Cause I got one waiting for you."

He saw the man's face pinch and he smiled. He was tired of feeling sick and scared, tired of looking over his shoulder and jumping at every little noise. He was going to take back his life.

"You killed my sister, Vecchio," Frank told him. "You made me look like a fool in the neighborhood. And now you're going to pay for that."

"Well, let's get on with it. I'm sick of you talking about it. C'mon! I'm right here!"

"Barry! Jim!" Frank shouted, still smirking at Ray. "We'll see who's the boss in this town. And it ain't the cops and it ain't you."

Ray turned quickly, his hand on his gun to see the two men Frank had called out to. His eyes searched the room, but no one slithered out of the woodwork. Ray held his breath, scanning the ceiling and the catwalks above, waiting for the gunfire to start.

Nothing. No one came, no one fired.

"Hey! Jimmy! Barry! C'mon I don't have all night!"

Ray relaxed a bit and sighed a breath of relief. Obviously his two hires had taken the night off, leaving Frank Zuko's ass in a sling.

"Looks like you got deserted, Frankie," Ray observed with a small smile.

Anger gripped Ray with a sudden vengeance and he gasped out when it overcame him. He yanked his gun free from his waist holster and before Frank's eyes he flicked off the safety. The small dot telling him it was all right to fire at will glowed up at him, almost smiling with its encouragement.

"This is how it's gonna play out, Frankie," Ray growled advancing on the mobster.

Frank splayed his hands and backed away.

"C'mon, Ray. We're just having a little fun. Between old friends."

Frankie squirmed a bit as trickles of sweat tracked down from his armpits.

Ray's jaw tightened and his teeth crushed against each other.

"God DAMN IT!" he shouted, curling his fingers tightly around the hot hilt of his special police issue.

The beast was rising in him and he couldn't stop it anymore. The floodgates had broken.

"You're going to get out and stay out of my life and Fraser's life, from now on!! Don't even fucking go near my sister or my mother again, or I will personally take your head off!"

Frank panicked, seeing the seething fire in Ray's electric green eyes. He began to babble something incoherent, trying to talk the cop back down to his senses.

"I swear to GOD, Zuko! If you don't stop talking, I'm gonna blow your brains out!" the monster inside Ray Vecchio screamed. "I'm not going to take this shit from you, or from anybody anymore!"

Ray continued to walk at the man, closing the distance between them, although Frankie tried to back away. Abruptly his back met with a stack of boxes and he had no place else to go. Ray crowded him right up against the barrier and lifted his gun. He brought the pistol grip down into Frank's face, bashing his lips and teeth together. The man gurgled in pain and surprise and a spray of blood spattered out of his mouth.

That's for fucking with Fraser, he thought smiling to himself.

But, Ray couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't keep his gun hand still as he aimed directly at Frankie Zuko's head. Somewhere in the back of his pain-hazed mind he thought he'd heard Ben's voice. But no. It couldn't have been the Mountie. Ray had told him not to follow him, told him to stay away. But why had he told Ben anything at all? He knew if Fraser knew he was in trouble, Fraser was going to be there to protect him. Maybe it was just his sick way of asking his friend for help.

And then he heard him clear as a bell as the Mountie shouted at him. It wasn't his words that snapped him out of his misery; it was the simple fact that the man sounded furious.

"Ray!" he yelled. "Ray, listen to me!"

Fuck, Benny! The monster cried, miserably. Why couldn't you just listen to me for once and stay away!

Thank God, Benny, Ray Vecchio thought. You're here just in time!

Ray didn't take his eyes off Zuko and to prove to himself that he was indeed going through with killing Zuko, he tightened his pistol grip. At that moment, he felt Ben moving up close behind him. He could smell the leather of his jacket and the soft scent of RCMP issued soap on his skin. He felt the touch of his big hand on his over-extended shoulder.

Ray gasped aloud. How he wanted to melt against Fraser, to relax his aching arm and hand over his gun. Ben had a knack for making everything all right with his world and he desperately wanted the Mountie to do that for him. then He couldn't think of anything else in the world that he wanted other than that.

The man's voice was soft in his ear.

"Ray, please. You don't want to do this."

"Oh, but I do, Benny. Don't you understand? I do want to do this. I've always wanted to do this. I waited twenty five years to kill the son of a bitch. He thinks he can just fuck with me just to prove what a bigshot he is and I'll curl up and die. No no no. I won't! I'm not my dad!"

He watched Zuko's bloodied and battered face react when he said those words and it gave him a rush a pleasure. He wanted the bastard to squirm; he wanted him to regret all the heartache he ever caused.

"He's going to pay," Ray said finally. "This is a Beretta Model 92F, 9 mm automatic action. A bullet from this will probably do a whole lotta damage."

Ben slipped his hand down the length of Ray's outstretched gun arm.

"Not like this, Ray. Please. Not like this."

Ben felt Ray relax against him and drop his arm just a bit and he foolishly thought Ray had come to his senses. But he should have known better. If Ray had his mind set on doing something, nothing could turn his askew. Ray tensed imperceptibly again just before the gun roared. The kick of the Beretta 92F jerked Ray's elbow, and jammed it into Fraser's jaw, knocking the Mountie backwards. The bullet ripped through the flimsy cardboard of the boxes just inches from Zuko's shoulder, making the mobster cry out. Ray then noticed the tang of urine in the air and saw that Zuko had wet his neat slacks.

"I've been meaning to do that to you for ages!" he crowed.

"Help me!" Zuko cried out to Fraser. "You're a cop! Stop him, he's crazy!"

Ben stood a few feet away from Ray, and stared mutely at Zuko.

"I have no jurisdiction here, Mr. Zuko," Ben said softly, shaking his head. "And Detective Vecchio is the only one with the gun here."

He spread his hands out in a gesture of futility and then put his hands back into his jacket pockets. He had to give to Ray, his space. He had to work thorough the demons that possessed him. It was out of Ben's hands. And with panicked dismay he watched as Ray advanced on the frightened man.

Frank Zuko only ever cringed away from Raymond Vecchio one other time in their adult lives. That fateful night in the empty gymnasium, where Ray beat him to a bloody pulp. Although that event wasn't the one that toppled Zuko's empire, it was the catalyst.

"I shoulda killed you when I had the chance!" he spat at Ray, blood and spittle spraying out between his bruised lips.

Anger lit Ray's face, and his green eyes glistened with something dangerously close to pure unadulterated insanity.

"Yea, Frankie. You should've. But you didn't. And I'm not going to give you a chance to make good on your promise."

Ray leaned his upper body close to Frank's who was still propped upright by the boxes. Ray palmed the Baretta and dug the still warm muzzle into the man's forehead.

"Ray!" Ben cried out unable to passively stand by anymore.

He moved towards them.

"Stay outta this, Benny. This doesn't concern you. This is between him and me."

"Ray. I'm not going to stand here and let you kill him!"

Fraser held his breath, as minutes ticked by, watching but Ray didn't move. Sirens from approaching black and whites punctuated his statement.

"Please, Ray. Please, don't do this," Ben asked softly, putting his hand on Ray's back. "You've done enough. He's learned his lesson... haven't you, Mr. Zuko."

"Yea, yea. Like the Mountie says," he stammered.

Ray immediately released his grip in Zuko's black hair and stepped back as if pulled by an invisible string. He pressed back against Fraser who slipped the gun from his hand. Ray turned around and looked directly into the hooded blue eyes of the Mountie who was trying hard not to judge him openly. Ray opened his mouth, trying in vain to explain, but Fraser turned his eyes away. Ray felt immediately shut out as effectively as if Fraser had slammed a door in his face. But, after a moment, Fraser lifted his hand and slid it across Ray's trembling shoulders and without a word, he guided him away from Zuko and out towards the approaching police officers.

"This isn't over!!" Frank Zuko's ineffective voice squeaked after them, as he had grown braver in the sight of the uniformed cops as they poured into the small space of the warehouse. "You just bought your tombstone, Vecchio!!"

"How the hell did you get here so fast? Did you run?" Ray asked Fraser out of the blue.

Fraser nodded.

"Then I took a taxi."

Ray pressed as close to Fraser as he dared, gathering comfort from the man as he squinted into the bright blue, red and white lights from the surrounding police cars. The voices and the noise around him were unbearable. He was in shock and the only thing that kept him from going off the deep end was Fraser's arm about his shoulders. The tall bulky form of Harding Welsh loomed over the two men but Ray didn't bother to look up at his superior officer.

"Detective," he said finally. "You want to tell me what's going on here? Or would that be too much trouble for you."

Welsh's shrewd blue eyes slid to the Mountie and then back to Ray, trying his best to give one of his best cops the benefit of the doubt.

Why was it that, if something insane was going on in his staff, Vecchio was usually the one behind it?

And on top of that, why was it that the Mountie was never far behind?

"Did Fraser call you guys?" Ray asked in surprise.

"No, detective. We got some nut job calling us saying that one of our detectives, namely a Ray Vecchio will be hanging by his intestines from the ceiling of this warehouse here. I just decided to check it out for myself."

Ray said nothing. Frank Zuko obviously made that call and had hoped that Ray was going to be dead and he was going to be out of there before the cops came. Unfortunately for the both of them, his plan backfired.

Welsh looked at the strong arm which still remained about Ray's shoulders and then down at the closeness of their bodies. To a lesser observant man, the insinuation of their disposition would have gone unnoticed. But he did notice and the words that came out of his mouth surprised him.

"Go home, detective. Let the Mountie take you home. I expect to see you at eight a.m. tomorrow morning, bright and early, in my office. If you're late, you will find yourself out of a job."

Harding didn't know if he'd made his words purposely ambiguous, or whether he was just stating a fact that he knew they both wanted to hear. He then heard the downgraded detective mumble his thanks and as Welsh watched him be led away he felt a grimace start to tug at the corners of his mouth. He shook his head.

You're getting soft he thought and turned towards the approaching Frank Zuko.

"You got some crazy cops working for you, Welsh!" shouted Zuko. "I want his badge!"

Welsh glanced down at the wet patch spreading across the front of Zuko's pants and shook his head.

He gestured for one of the other officers to take care of the mobster as he went back to the comfort of his own car.

Fraser's apartment was cold and dark and it matched the same frozen blackness that filled the heart and soul of a one Raymond Vecchio. He sat on the narrow spongy bed with his hands clasped together and clenched between his knees as he rocked back and forth. He had never wantonly toyed with someone's life, while feeling so perilously close to the edge as he had done with Zuko. He could have killed the man right there and Fraser wouldn't have been able to do anything to stop him. He knew Ben couldn't stop him and that's what scared him to death. If Ben couldn't keep a rein on him, then nothing could. It frightened him that he had almost lost himself in the mayhem of the moment. He had turned into the very man he never wanted to become, his father.

"Jesus, Benny..." he moaned helplessly, holding out his hands before him and swallowing hard on the wad of fear that had crystallized in his throat. "I can't stop shaking."

The Mountie, who'd been hovering at the edge of the bed, but never coming close enough to provide to Ray any comfort, said nothing.

Ray turned his pleading eyes on Ben and he held his hands up in needy supplication.

"Help me, Benny. Please," he begged, as tears began to spill down his pallid cheeks.

Fraser took in a long breath and sat next to him. He had never seen the wild man Ray had turned into that night and he wasn't sure that the beast had been vanquished entirely once Zuko had been taken away. Ben had seen some crazy things in his lifetime, he'd seen men chew off their own limbs in fits of rage and insanity, but that was nothing compared to the utter loss of control he'd seen in Ray's gleaming green eyes.

He balked at touching the man, but the fear and agony in his friend's face ripped at his heart. He slid his arm across Ray's slender shoulders. He could feel him trembling and it hurt him to see Ray in so much pain. He patted his back fraternally and then jerked back when Ray turned towards him and buried his face against his chest. The cop sobbed into the thick cable knit of his sweater, feebly clutching at him with cold frozen fingers. Fraser was stunned, and unable to make himself react. He wanted to comfort Ray, but he didn't know how. Finally he put both his arms about his partner and awkwardly at first, before falling into a soothing motion, he stroked his back with the flat of his hand. Ben lifted his other hand and cradled the back of Ray's delicate head, rubbing his thumb in firm but gentle circles right where his finely made skull joined with his spine. He sometimes used that technique on himself when Inspector Thatcher-induced headaches just wouldn't go away. It always relaxed him and he hoped it would do the same for Ray.

Feeling those fingertips massaging him, Ray tried not to moan his pleasure. Ben's amazingly strong but gentle hands on him felt like a dream. He felt comforted and protected and ... loved. The man must really care for him if he was willing to put his arms about another man and let that man cry on his shoulder. Ray appreciated the chance to let down his guard with Ben and he in turn put his arms about Ben's waist.

Fraser sat there, still, holding his breath daring himself to move while Ray embraced him. He closed his eyes and an unbidden image of Ray's soft lips pressing against his crept into his consciousness. He wanted to push Ray away from him so that he wouldn't discover how his body was responding, much against his will, to his closeness. But he didn't want Ray to be away from him. He wanted to pull him closer, wanted to draw him down to the bed upon which they sat, kiss the tears that wet his face, soothe him with his hands and body.

After a moment the cop melted in his arms and his tears subsided into soft whimpers. He dropped his hands to rest on Fraser's thighs and he pushed himself away. Ray sloppily dried his face with his hands and sniffed loudly to clear his nose.

"I'm ok, Benny. I'm ok, now," he assured him.

Ben didn't believe him and he attempted to pull Ray back into his embrace. Realizing what he was doing, Ben stopped and took his hands away from Ray's shoulders. He rubbed his fingers together, ashamed at how he was feeling. Ray needed him and all he did was entertain lewd thoughts about him.

You are a disgrace, Fraser, he angrily chided himself and immediately he got up and put distance between his object of desire.

Ray followed him with his eyes.

Why was he leaving? He wondered.

"Where are you going?" Ray asked him.

Afraid that his emotions would be plainly written on his blushing features, Fraser turned his face away from Ray and went towards the sink under the guise of getting him something to drink from the refrigerator.

"I just thought you'd might like something to drink, Ray," Fraser said over his shoulder.

Ray was quiet.

"Do you?" Ben prompted, showing to him the empty glass that he brought down from the cabinet.

"Yeah, sure, Benny," Ray sighed. "You got anything harder than milk or water?"

"I'm afraid not, Ray. But I can get you something, if you want it. What do you want? Jack Daniels?"

Ray looked up, surprised.

"What do you know about, Jack Daniels?" he asked his seemingly naive friend.

Ben smiled knowingly.

"I'm an officer of the law. I've seen my share, Ray."

They shared a smile of understanding and for an instant, both men desperately wanted to tell the other what he'd been thinking in the moment of their embrace. Ray broke the silence.

"No, Fraser. I don't want any."

Ray wanted something else and he fidgeted with the need for it, roughly rubbing the skin of the back of his hand.

"Just come back here, Benny. Please. Just sit with me, o.k.? Is that too much?"

Ben clenched his hand about the glass and forced himself to pry it from his hand and set it back on the clean shelf. He didn't want to get close to Ray again, for fear of loosing his head and doing something he shouldn't. He dusted imaginary lint from his hands and stiffly walked back to the bed. He lowered himself gingerly onto the mattress as if not to jar Ray. Fraser stared miserably down at his hands, too full of shame and lust that he didn't trust himself to speak. He didn't trust himself near the slender cop. And when Ray started talking again, he merely gazed at the point of dark stubble where Ray's strong jaw met the bottom of his ear.

"Did you think I was going to kill him, Fraser?" Ray asked frankly.

Ben didn't hesitate in his answer.

"Yes."

Ray turned stunned and betrayed eyes onto the Mountie.

"How could you think I could do that? Is that what you think about me? That I can't control myself?!" he demanded hotly.

He was hurt that Fraser thought so lowly of him.

"On the contrary, Ray," Fraser began keeping his voice soothing and low. "Under the circumstances, I'm not certain if I would have behaved any differently."

"Are you saying," Ray began, feeling a little heartened, "that you would have shot him?"

Ben gave him a shade of a smile. Ray noticed the smile had a cold edge to it. He remembered how Zuko had treated the innocent Mountie: brass knuckles and fractured ribs.

"I would have done it a little higher up."

Ray chuckled in spite of himself and knocked Fraser in the shoulder.

"No, you wouldn't. You woulda told him a deceptively charming witty Inuit story and had everybody singing Cum-by-ya or something until the cops showed up."

Fraser's smile lengthened just a bit.

"Then you don't know me at all, Ray,"

Vecchio's teasing smile vanished.

"Eye for an eye, huh Benny?" he asked seriously.

"Yes, Ray. Exactly."

His words were cold, as was the look on his handsome face. His icy blue eyes bored into Ray's and it took all his strength to tear his gaze away. Ray sat quietly for a moment and then felt a shudder ripple through him. He looked back at Ben, who was still looking at him. He'd never thought that his so Mountie-like best friend would ever entertain thoughts of cold-blooded murder and sweet retribution.

But then he noticed something else in those eyes, something like desire. He shook himself all over, unwilling to recognize that look he knew so well. He knew it, because he wore it himself. But as much as he wanted to, he didn't want to be mistaken and assume the worst.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Benny?" he asked instead. "You wanna tell me something?"

Ray spoke carefully, giving the Mountie an easy way out, giving to him a wide berth.

Immediately, as if Ray had jerked out the plug that electrified Fraser's emotions, his expression relaxed and he looked away.

"No, Ray," he said finally and then got up again.

As the Mountie walked towards the small square table Ray also got to his feet. He spoke to him from the bedside.

"What's going on with you, Fraser? You're acting like a maniac."

He saw the man's shoulders hunch beneath the sweater as he put his hands flat on the tabletop. Ray unwittingly allowed his eyes to travel down Fraser's back to where the bottom of the loose shapeless sweater lifted with the rise of his shoulders, and revealed the firm curve of his ass.

Ray took in a quick breath. Had he just looked at the Mountie's well shaped backside and got off on it?

Get a hold on yourself, Vecchio. He's your friend, not some...

Ray let the thought trail and he drew his eyes back to where he could just see Fraser's shoulder blades poking against the light blue yarn.

"I thought I was the one that was falling apart around here," Ray continued with a slight smile.

He tried to keep his voice as light as possible, just in case Fraser was just on the verge of looking for a excuse to break. He didn't want his irritation to be the match to Ben's gas soaked rag.

"Don't worry about me, Ray. You're making a big deal out of nothing," Fraser warned him.

Ray was taken aback by the threat in the Mountie's voice. He was surprised that the situation between them had taken such a drastic turn.

"You know, Ray," Fraser began softly. "I would tell you if something was wrong."

Ray snorted loudly showing his disbelief.

"No you wouldn't Frasher. You keep it bottled up inside, like you always do. I won't be surprised if you lick one too many stamps and snap one day and take out everybody within a five mile radius."

Ray chuckled a bit at the image of a Rambo-fied Mountie going on a killing spree. Those who had once entrusted their faith in the man would be simply and thoughtlessly dismembered. He then sobered quickly when Fraser turned around to face him. The look of utter despair caught him off guard. How could a man look so devastatingly handsome and stricken at the same time?

"Aww, c'mon Fraser," Ray said, this time affecting a petulant tone, forgetting his own problem for a moment. "Tell me what's the matter. Maybe I can help."

Ben looked at Ray. He looked at the way his mouth curved in that small smile and the way his eyes crinkled that tiny bit. He suddenly felt dizzy.

"I'm just worried about you, Ray," Fraser said finally.

He felt a bit guilty because that really wasn't the reason as to why he was acting the way he was. But at least he wasn't lying to Ray. He was indeed worried.

"I mean, after this evening's... encounter, I'm sure your life is in danger."

Ray lifted his brows. He had thought about that. But the confrontation in the warehouse had released a valve within him and all the fear for his life at the hands of Frank Zuko merely drained away.

"From who? Frankie? Tsha! He's been trying to kill me for twenty years. I don't think he's gonna start making good now."

"But, Ray," Fraser tried to reason. "Think about it. This is the second time you've embarrassed him. How is he going to live this down? And in front of police officers who will most definitely spread this story around."

"Are you taking up for him, Benny?" Ray all but snarled.

"No, Ray," Ben answered. "I'm on your side, remember? I'm just saying that he may seek retribution."

"Oh. He will. I'm sure of it. But I can't base my life on that, Benny. Can't you see? You didn't do it when you were ordered off your father's murder case. You knew whoever killed your father wouldn't hesitate in killing you if you got too close. But you kept on, because you knew you had to, you knew that you couldn't curl up and die because someone out there could threaten your life. Why do you expect me to just let this run my life?"

Ben seemed surprised at Ray's words and he dropped his gaze to the floorboard beneath his feet.

"I... don't, Ray," he said gently. "You shouldn't let it."

Ray's whole body relaxed with relief.

"Thank you, Benny. I knew you'd understand."

They were quiet for a moment before Ray roused himself. He stood from the spongy bed and walked towards Ben who raised his eyes to meet his.

"I've got to get home. Just in case... somebody decides to do something stupid."

"I understand, Ray."

Ben reached up and caught his shoulder before he moved away.

"Yea, Benny?" Ray asked, his eyes searching the Mountie's face.

"Just, be careful, Ray. Please," he said softly, and gave him a slightly encouraging smile.

Ray grinned.

"Of course, Benny. I promise."

"And..." Fraser added, letting go of his shoulder, "When you see leftenant Welsh tomorrow... tell him what's going on."

Ray nodded and sighed.

"I will."

And after a final pat on Dief's head, Ray left the small apartment.

Frank Zuko didn't press charges, Ray found out as he stood in Welsh's office eight o'clock the next morning. And as he'd promised Fraser, Ray sat down and explained to his lieutenant what had been going on in his life over the passed few weeks. Welsh promised Ray that he would do his best to look out for him, as Ray knew he would. Welsh even offered to give Ray some downtime, to lie low for a while. Of course, even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew the detective would refuse. So to keep his detective out of anymore trouble, Welsh assigned him to a simple lost and found case. He knew it would keep Vecchio out of sight for a while, without making the detective feel like he was being sheltered.

"They put me on a pity case," Ray told Fraser over dinner, two weeks after the Zuko incident in the warehouse.

Ben spooned another mouthful of clam chowder into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully.

"Why do you think that?" he asked and wiped his mouth.

Ray toyed with the straw that bobbed up and down in his carbonated drink. The diner was deserted that evening and he and Fraser decided to have dinner there just because nobody was in there.

"Well... I don't know. I just feel it. It's an easy case. All I gotta do it talk to my informant, he'll give me some good news and that'll be that. Who loses a twenty thousand dollar poodle necklace, anyway?"

Ben smiled at Ray from across the clean white tabletop.

"I think it'll be good for you, Ray. Give you some downtime."

Ray rubbed the back of his neck and took a sip of the cola.

"I know, Benny. It's just that I wish it wasn't so obvious."

Ben's smile widened, but he said nothing.

Ray glanced at his watch.

"Speaking of that. I gotta take a ride. To see Mr. Bova. Then I can take you on home. Unless you want me to take you home first."

"I don't want to be a bother, Ray. If you have business to attend to, I can walk. Dief needs the exercise."

Fraser glanced down at Dief and shook his head. By popping out from beneath the table, the wolf had startled one of the waitresses so badly that she dropped a whole bowl of chocolate syrup upon his head. Ben picked up the wet rag she'd supplied him and began rubbing again at Dief's sticky head.

"Nah, Benny. You're no bother. Geez."

He looked into the contents of the Mountie's bowl and sat back.

"I'll wait, until you're done."

"I'm done," he answered with a final smile.

Paying the tab, Ray and Ben left the dinner.

"He's gonna meet me at the restaurant across the street, Benny. You stay in the car. I'll leave the keys for you, if you want to listen to the radio, but I shouldn't be that long."

"All right," replied the Mountie who was busy still cleaning the chocolate from Dief's furry head.

"I don't know how you get into these things. You frightened that poor woman," Ben said to him, vigorously rubbing a particularly stubborn spot right behind the wolf's ear with a wet rag. "Can't I take you anywhere?"

Dief noisily licked his chops and then slathered a wet kiss straight across Ben's unprepared face.

"Honestly," he murmured palming dry his face.

Ray chuckled at the both of them and got out of the car. He walked across the street towards Venus restaurant where should have been waiting for him a one Mr. Joe Bova. He and Ray Vecchio weren't really friends, per se, but they were more symbiotic organisms. An informant cop type of relationship. Joe, standing in the doorway of the cozy Italian restaurant immediate stepped out into the streetlight and waved to Ray.

"Nice to see ya walking about on two legs, Vecchio," he said jovially.

Ray frowned and glanced back at the Riv and its two occupants.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked turning his attention back to Bova, who promptly shrugged.

"Nothing, Vecchio. It's just that some stuff has been goin' around and it didn't sound good for our local favorite cop here."

He gestured to Ray's chest with a still smoking cigarette.

"Well. We all got our problems," Ray answered.

He the rubbed his cold hands together and eagerly glanced passed Bova's shoulder and towards the warmth of the restaurant.

"C'mon let's go inside. It's freezing out here."

"You wanna be seen with me, among people?" Bova asked, a little uneasily.

"What the hell," Ray answered. "Nobody knows what we're talking about. C'mon. I'll buy you some breadsticks."

Joe hesitated just enough to make Ray suspicious.

"What's going on in there that you don't want me to see?" Ray asked.

"Ain't nothin' going on in there Vecchio. Nothin' at all."

"Good."

Ray pushed passed him and into the restaurant.

"And c'mon. I don't have all night."

Ray and Joe got a booth in the back where they waited for their waitress, who by the way never came. Ray glanced about at the patrons. They looked to be the usual family type, white, with boisterous kids and the like. He also noticed that one side of the room was packed with young men, but they didn't look threatening so he ignored them. He didn't bother to take off his coat and he sat there staring at Bova who seemed to want to be just about anyplace other than sitting there with him.

"What have you got for me?" Ray asked. "This thing with the bracelet has gone on a little too long. Mr. Greene's getting antsy."

"I gotta go to the bathroom. Just, wait for me."

Ray sat back and frowned up at him as the man rose.

Strange, he thought. Bova's acting strange.

But he allowed the man to go. Ray studied the menu for a moment and the sound of shouting voices caught his attention. He turned about in the booth to see two young men dressed in sweatshirts and jeans standing near the doorway yelling curses at each other. A waiter stood like some frantic kid nearby, with his hands out towards the arguing men, hoping to placate them before they did any damage.

Ray really didn't bother to take into account what the young men were saying, but he knew that they didn't sound like a pair of outstretched hands couldn't soothe them.

He got up.

"O.k.," he said, walking over to them. "What's the trouble here?"

The two men looked at him as if he'd just sprouted a second head.

"Stay outta this, man. You don't want any trouble."

Then out came the knife.

Ray rolled his eyes. He'd seen worse in his day.

"Chicago P.D., pal. Either get outta here, or I'll have to run you and your friend in."

Then as if on cue, two tables of young men stood and surrounded Ray. He'd spoken too soon.

"This is our, turf, cop," said the one with the knife. "And they're on it."

He gestured to a group of men sitting nearby, eating and drinking beer. Ray glanced at them. Seemed like another gang had come to the wrong place at the wrong time.

"It's a free country," Ray said casually.

"Not around here, it ain't."

Ray smiled gently. But before he could react and take control of the situation, one of the young men from the other table put down his beer and drew a pistol.

SHIT!

"Hey!" he called out to him and at the same time heard someone shout his name.

"Vecchio!"

Ray turned and saw a large man dressed all in a silvery black like some sort of hellish angel. But the gun in his hands, was nothing angelic, and instantly he knew Bova had set him up. That's why he was so eager to get out of his presence.

And that's when the shot was fired. Ray couldn't tell it if was from the young man or from the one who'd shouted to him. But all at once, bullets began to fly over the screaming of the family patrons. It happened so fast that for the life of him, he wasn't sure how he reacted to keep up with the turn of events. Ray didn't realize that he himself had been shot until he tried to catch the little boy who'd tried to make it to the door. Ray knew the boy wasn't going to make it. He tried to move towards the boy, and the pain tore through him like knives. He looked down at himself, and seeing a gush of blood spilling from his upper chest, Ray had to bite down on his lip to keep from screaming out in agony.

He kept the boy in his arms, shielding him with his body and tried his best to drag himself to the door. The second bullet ripped through his hip dropping him to his knees. He didn't feel the two other bullets that tore into him.

Down on his knees and gasping as pain ate like acid into his lungs, Ray managed to push out through the door, leaving a bloody handprint on the shattered glass and he let the boy go as soon as the door opened. He felt someone run passed him, kicking the door out of his hand as they escaped. But no one bothered to help him at all.

"Fire in the hole!" he dimly heard a voice shout and then scream out in joy.

Ray pushed himself to his feet and stumbled out through the broken door. His limbs felt heavy, like they'd been filled with lead and with numb hands he clutched at the wounds in his chest. But he was determined to get out of there in one piece. The streets were quiet, except for the screaming. He thought he heard a dog barking somewhere in the night. In the distance he heard sirens. Somebody must have been peeking out of the window and had called the cops.

The muffled rumble of a pipe bomb going off deep in the bowels of the restaurant shook him off his feet. Fire and shards of wood and glass spewed out into the air, lighting the sky like the fourth of July. He crashed to one knee, dizzy and nauseous from the pain and loss of blood. Ray huffed out a breath that seemed to fill him with liquid fire and manfully hauled himself up right. He could feel the blaze of the fire against his back.

The agony in his body was too great and every step he took jarred him to the bone. He could feel the throbbing bullet wounds in both his upper and lower body and knew it was a miracle that he was surviving as long as he did. He felt torn and mangled inside as if he'd come unhinged and fall apart at any moment. He coughed as to not choke on the blood filling his lungs. His wounds ached like exposed nerves and tears sprung to his eyes from every automatic movement of his legs. He wasn't thinking anymore, just moving like a machine. But Ray didn't care about that. And all he could see was Fraser. He saw him running towards him.

Benny...

• Benny! Please... help me...*

He desperately had to reach Ben, before he died. Ray began losing feeling in his legs and his knees buckled under his weight. Before he fell for the final time, before the darkness consumed him, he looked heavenward and into the tears shining in the blue eyes of the man that had caught him. Ray weakly held onto the broad shoulders of the Mountie for support as they both sank to their knees and he imagined that he whispered Ben's name as the blood poured out of him. Somewhere in the distance of his mind, before he was lost, he heard someone scream his name.

"Is it done?"

"I believe so, sir. I just need to make sure."

"You do that. Where's Zuko?"

"At home, sir."

The dark skinned woman sat comfortably in a small car outside Frank Zuko's house, peering through the window of his study with binoculars.

"He's sitting by the phone."

"Then we should give him a call. There's a party he needs to attend."

"Yes, sir. Do you need me for anything else tonight?"

"No."

"Good. I have some... visiting I need to do. I will be within phone call."

Silence.

"Leave the Mountie alone. Do you understand me?"

Click

With Dief hot on his heels, Ben ran through the sliding doors of the hospital, ignored the nurse that called after him about no pets allowed in the hospital and headed for the waiting room. As he ran, weaving in between people, his heart pounding in his chest, all he could think of was that Ray had died. Ray was gone.

Fraser stopped short when he saw the uniformed cops everywhere, standing about like blue and black statues. Fraser spotted Welsh, the instant the lieutenant saw him. Welsh walked quickly towards him as Fraser stood dumbly there.

Welsh caught him, letting his meaty arm hang about his shoulders as he steered Ben away from the police.

"This may be hard for you to take, Constable," Welsh started to say, a little louder than was called for.

Fraser looked up at him and instantly feared the worst.

"You're saying..." Fraser choked out. "That Ray's..."

He couldn't make himself say the words and Welsh nodded.

The glass holding him together shattered and Ben felt nauseous. He swallowed hard on the vomit that threatened to rise in his throat and turned his face away from the other man. He willed himself not to cry in his presence, but his will was all but gone. Ray was gone... dead.

*Why did you leave me? *

Welsh watched Ben put a hand to his forehead for a moment and then come back from his place of sorrow with cold efficiency. He didn't like the look of insanity that colored the normally stoic Constable's river blue eyes. Welsh stepped back from him and slipped his hands in his pockets.

"Did he say anything?" Fraser asked politely and coolly, although inside he was everything but.

Inside he was screaming. Why did he let Ray go into the restaurant alone and unprotected? Why was he so preoccupied with cleaning Dief's head that he ignored any signs of apprehension? Why wasn't he there for Ray, instead of trying to catch and clean up the mess that ensued?

Welsh shook his head.

"He'd been unconscious since they brought him in. He never woke up."

Fraser stared at Welsh as if he'd lost his mind. Why was he talking so loudly? It didn't make sense for the situation they were in. It called for a bit more couth than he was exhibiting.

"Then he went quietly," Fraser concluded.

"Apparently."

"I understand," Fraser said, managing to give Welsh an unconvincing half-smile. "That's good that he wasn't in any pain."

Fraser nodded absently and his chest tightened as if an iron ring has been cinched about his ribs.

"That's really good," he finished very softly.

Fraser took in a long breath and looked down at the wolf that sat at his feet. Dief must have understood the severity of the situation, for he looked extremely upset and was whining softly in long breaths.

Fraser bent a little and gently patted his head for reassurance.

"Can I see him?" he asked Welsh.

Welsh looked at him a moment and then glanced around at the people populating the hallway. He took Ben's arm and pulled him farther down the hall and out of earshot.

"I'm sorry to have deceived you Fraser, but I thought, considering the gravity of this situation, it's best not to have anyone know."

Fraser swallowed feeling a swell of hope rising in his chest.

"Know what?" he asked.

"Vecchio's not in this hospital. Soon they're going to wheel out a body so that everyone will think he's dead. His family knows, but outside of them, and you, that's it. I contacted them as soon as I heard and explained what happened. They should be here soon. The word will get around and hopefully the mob will let up, when they find out. At least until we can start putting people away."

"That sounds like a complicated plan, if I may, sir."

"Yea, well. It's the best I can do on short notice."

Welsh gave him a smile, noticing that the Mountie was barely holding back his tears.

"He's still in surgery now, over at Mercy but go down to the canteen and wait. Make it look good to anybody who could be watching. I'll come get you once we get word."

Ben nodded, his breaths coming fast now as relief flooded through him. Playing out his role, Fraser obediently left the waiting area. He did not go to the canteen though, but instead went to the deserted Men's room. Dief followed him to one of the benches next to the baby changing station and wormed his way between Fraser's knees when the Mountie sat down. Fraser put both his hands on Dief's face and rested his forehead against Dief's head. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks and he sat there like that for nearly a half-hour. Dief occasionally lapped at the salty tears that wet his face in an effort to console his alpha pack mate.

"Ray's alive," Ben whispered over and over again to the wolf. "He's alive."

It was very late the next night before Ben was able to go to Mercy to see Ray. His surgery had lasted twelve hours, and with each passing minute, Ben grew more and more anxious. Welsh had given to the Mountie a key to Ray's prepared private room in Mercy along with the room number. Ben was so concerned with Ray's well being that he didn't notice the small black car that pulled out into the street, and followed him as he guided the Riv through traffic.

"Shhh," he cautioned Dief as he unlocked and pushed open the door to room 519.

He moved quietly into the darkened room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light coming in through the shuttered windows before he approached the bed.

There was Ray, stretched out beneath the thin hospital covers, wires and tubes snaking from his body in every direction. Ben came close enough to see Ray's pale face, illuminated by the green screen of the heart monitor and it was then that he started to cry. The tears at first just slowly flowed down his cheeks and then the sobs came, which he muffled with his hand. He was ashamed that his feeling for the man had overwhelmed him so much it reduced him to tears for the second time that evening.

He was ashamed that he had willingly allowed Ray to become the center of his world, that everything about him revolved about Ray Vecchio. If he couldn't be with Ray at work, pretending with all his heart that Ray actually needed his help on his cases, then he was with him during lunch and then again during dinner and some time afterwards. Fraser never wondered if Ray had any other male friends to associate with. He only relished the time Ray allotted to him.

The man in the bed stirred and turned his head towards the sounds.

"Benny..." he whispered harshly with as much excitement as he could muster.

"Ray," he moaned, fighting through his tears. "Ray! You're alive."

Silence.

"Barely," came his answer.

"Alive none the less," Ben corrected him.

Ben stared down at Ray, itching to scoop up the slender detective and squeeze him in his arms. He dried his tears and went to lean over Ray. He glanced up at the chart hanging over the top of the bed. The name on it read, "Silas, Bertram". It was obviously a pseudonym to protect Ray's identity. And for a moment, Ben considered the name Bert.

Fraser reached out and gingerly took Ray's hand between his. His slender elegant hand was cool and dry. Fraser held his breath, knowing he was taking a great liberty in touching his friend in that manner. But at the moment he didn't care.

"I don't know what I would have done, had you died, Ray," he murmured. "I would have lost my mind."

• I would have lost my heart and my love...*

Ray was silent and Ben noticed that he was again asleep. He stroked those long fingers with his, glad to be able to touch him again. And he vowed to do anything to keep Ray out of harms way again.

Ray Vecchio: Survivor

Five weeks later.

He felt no pain and he watched with dumb amazement as the I.V. needle slid smoothly into a swollen vein in the bend of his arm. The nurse taped it down to his skin, tapped the fluids bag gently and then with a warm pat on his hand, she released the rubber tie and left him to sleep and heal. Ray sighed and closing his eyes, he scooted down beneath the covers, glad that Ben had left to him a thicker blanket, other than the thin ones they'd supplied him in the hospital.

Ray heard a noise outside his door, but when he heard the key being pushed into the lock he relaxed. Only one person held the key to that room. The door to his private room unlocked and gently swung open and in walked Fraser, followed closely by Dief. The wolf immediately lifted himself and put his paws on the bed rail to look over at Ray. He raised a hand and put it on the head that Dief presented to him. He chuffed happily as Ray scratched him behind his pointed ears and his tail went a mile a minute. He was very happy to see the cop alive and somewhat well.

"Hey, Dief," he murmured, happy to see him and the man that followed him. "Hey, Benny."

"Good to see you, Ray," he said smiling and reaching out to drag Dief off the bed.

Ray smiled at him. And then he was talking before Ben had a chance to sit down.

"You gotta get me out of here," he said quickly.

Ben looked into his face. He had heard perfectly what Ray had said, but he didn't believe his ears.

"What?"

"Please, Benny. I've been thinking about this for weeks. Please get me out of here. It's not safe. I'm sure whoever's watching the hospital, if they didn't buy that I'm dead, will see you going in and out, and get suspicious."

Fraser felt a bit sick. In his eagerness to see his friend, he'd thrown common sense to the wind. Of course, Ray was correct about his visiting causing a great deal of suspicion and he wouldn't be able to live with himself, if his carelessness was the cause of Ray's further injury.

"But Ray," Fraser tried to reason. "There are police officers all over the hospital. No one can get near you without them knowing."

"That's not true!" Ray cried and then winced at the strain his yell put on his body. "Anybody can get in here and I'm a dead man."

"But Ray..." Fraser started again.

His eyes met Ray's green ones and he couldn't refuse. Deep inside, he knew Ray was right. Anybody could, if they wanted to, just slip passed the cops and right into Bertram Silas's room.

"Please Benny. Please do this for me. If you care about me, please... I only trust you to protect me. Not them."

Taken aback by the desperation in Ray's voice, Ben found himself silenced. He already knew the answer to Ray's request for he would have done anything for his friend. He reached for Ray's hand and closed his fingers about Ray's cooler ones.

Ben smiled at Ray and stroked his fingertips gently over the back of his hand. He nodded.

I care about you. I love you he wanted to say to him.

"I will, Ray," he said. "I'll protect you. I promise."

And good to his word and under the stealth cover of night, The Mountie took The Chicago Cop to a safe haven in the wilds of the frozen north.

"Finally," Ray gasped, when they finally made it from the jeep to the small waiting area of the airstrip.

Fraser helped him inside the single squat building and into one of the small booths in the back. Ray sighed and glanced around the place. They'd been there before, the last time they'd both gone up to Fraser's cabin. Ray even noticed that the same guy, the one with the same silly hat with the silly flaps was sitting behind the counter probably still drinking the same silly cup of coffee. He hadn't bothered to look up at them when they came in. Ray remembered Ben telling him that people in small towns did things a lot slower that normal people. Yea, Ray thought, so slowly that they hardly moved at all.

Fraser went to have their bags weighed and to check in and Ray glanced around for a telephone. He needed to make a call. Spotting a half booth right outside the window and he got up.

Ray leaned against the thick plastic wall of the telephone booth, clenching the black receiver in one hand, resting his other hand on the metal shelf.

"Ma!" he shouted, trying to get the woman's attention.

She'd started crying the moment she'd answered the phone and hadn't stopped despite Ray's pleas.

She moaned something in Italian and started wailing again. Ray guessed that his mother was definitely worried out of her mind, being that her son had suddenly disappeared from his hospital bed three days ago.

In the background, Ray could hear Frannie's nasal voice, asking her mother what was wrong. Ray rolled his eyes. At this rate, he would never get off the phone. He heard his mother stammer through a teary explanation and then heard Frannie yell out something. More voices joined them in the background and soon a dull roar ensued and Ray shouted again into the receiver.

"Ma! Listen to me! I'm OK!"

"But, Raimondo! Where are you? Why did you leave the hospital? You're still sick. You could die!"

"Ma. I told you. I'm all right. I'm gonna be all right. Fraser's with me."

Ray stopped himself. Why had he used Fraser as an explanation? Was Fraser the excuse for everything? Did Fraser automatically make everything better?

"The Mountie is there with you?" asked his mother, sniffing through her tears.

"Yea, Ma. Benny's here. He's... he's taking me someplace safe."

"Caro! You're in some more trouble that you have to run from it? Where is he taking you? Did he kidnap you from the hospital?!"

Ray tried not to laugh at the image his mother's words brought to mind: Fraser all dressed in cat-burglar black, climbing through the hospital window, after scaling the building of course, sneaking into his room, muffling him with chloroform, binding him up and absconding with him. But Ray didn't indulge in the fantasy, for he knew he'd have to calm her down quickly before she lost all control. She started to curse the Mountie in Italian. He could hear Frannie's voice again, demanding to know what role Fraser had played in her brother's disappearance.

"Ma, Ma!" Ray tried to reason over the noise. "Trust me. Fraser did not kidnap me. I asked him to get me outta there. And I can't really explain right now. You'll just have to trust me, please."

"But why can't you tell me where you're going? What is all this secrecy," she begged.

Mrs. Vecchio trusted Fraser with all her heart and knew he couldn't let any harm come to her beloved son, but this running away from the hospital after only being there for five weeks and all the secrecy, it was insane.

"Just trust me, Ma. Just trust Fraser. We're gonna be fine. I'll call you when I can. I love you."

He then hung up before she could get another word out. Ray sagged heavily against the plastic wall feeling weary and resigned. Was he doing the right thing? Or was he signing his own death certificate?

Ray shook his head and went back inside.

Lenore McNichol lay in the warmth and privacy of her car just down the street from Ray Vecchio's home. She'd been dozing lightly and was startled awake by the ringing of the phone tap. She sat up in the back seat and adjusted her headphones. Then she heard the supposedly dead Ray Vecchio's voice clear as day. She smiled to herself.

So keeping tabs on the Mountie hadn't been such a bad idea after all. She had followed him from County Hospital as he went to Mercy and afterwards had seen him periodically visit Mercy with his wolf and her curiosity had been peaked. He had to be going there for a reason. He was way too old to be a candy striper. Lenore just naturally surmised that Vecchio's death on the operating table, his subsequent cremation, and the wake and funeral were all a cover-up.

And a poor cover-up by the cops, at that.

Welsh needed a better imagination if he was going to play their game and win.

She glanced down at the electronic box sitting on the passenger seat, hoping to see numbers or something. The phone trace only revealed that Vecchio's location was out of state and out of range. So the Mountie did have a hand in getting the cop out of the hospital. If her research was correct, Fraser most likely took Vecchio to the Territories to hide out. Smart of him to do that, but way too obvious.

Lenore took the headphones off her ears and contemplated her next move for a moment. She then picked up her cell phone and made a very important phone call.

"Your mother?" Fraser asked when Ray returned inside and sat down in the booth across from him.

Ray nodded.

"I tried to explain what was going on. I don't think she heard a word I said."

Ray chuckled a bit and put his head down on his hands. He felt Fraser touching his shoulder.

"When we get back, I'll explain everything to her, but...she'll... probably going to want to kill me, for the role I played."

Ray glanced up to see the Mountie actually grinning at his own joke. Noticing Ray's look of disbelief, Fraser cleared his throat and sobered a bit.

"You'll be fine, Ray. What better place to hide out than the Territory. They won't think to find you there."

Ray paused for a moment, just gazing into Fraser's incredibly blue eyes before he finally spoke.

"I believe you."

Ben's face lit up at those words, and he couldn't help smiling. His fingertips ached to reach out and stroke Ray's lined cheeks, wanting to soothe away his worry. Instead he pressed his hands down on the countertop and pushed himself out of the booth.

"You want anything from the canteen?" Ben asked looking down at him.

"They have an actual canteen here?" Ray asked in disbelief.

Ben pointed to the shabby counter that housed a plate of what looked like day old danishes and paper cups of coffee that had already begun to leak their contents. Ray chuckled and he shook his head to decline Ben's offer.

"Fine then. I'm just going out to get Dief. I'll be back."

Satisfied, Ray let his eyes follow the tall Mountie as he strode out of the small waiting area. He even watched him through the front glass and saw Fraser suddenly hesitate and crouch down a bit. Ray craned his neck, feeling a surge of panic grip him.

What had Fraser seen??

Ray then sagged back in relief when he saw the object of Ben's attention. Diefenbaker was standing out boldly on the runway, the hair on his shoulders and haunches standing upright, his fluffy tail wagging in the air. He was stalking a small furry critter unaware that Ben was stalking him. Ray smiled as the Mountie made a mad dash for the wolf, reaching out like a football player reaching for a side pass, and grabbing the wolf about the sides. Dief yelped once and then barked crazily with pleasure and surprise as he ran after Ben. Ray watched them until they were around the corner of the building. He then let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

Get a grip on yourself, Vecchio. Fraser's your friend. Fraser's your friend. Fraser's your friend...

But no matter how many times he said it to himself, he wasn't convinced. Oh, yes he thought of Ben as a friend, a good friend, but that wasn't all. He thought about Ben in other ways, ways that he would never, never admit to him. All during the ride up to the small airstrip, Fraser's hands of all things had mesmerized Ray.

Whether they rested on his thighs or lay folded in his lap, Ray continued to stare at them. Pale, broad and strong hands, with long capable fingers and short clean nails. Ray had never really seen clean fingernails on another man, and it impressed him to find it with Ben. He wondered what those hands would feel like against his own skin. Would his fingertips be rough or hot or smooth... Ray sent himself reeling with the possibilities of Fraser's hands, and it seemed that on every occasion when Ben spoke to him, he was preoccupied with those hands and hadn't heard the comment.

But Benny was off limits and he realized that fact all to keenly.

Fraser returned with Dief in tow, just in time for funny hat behind the counter to announce their flight had arrived. It was like dj vu when they boarded the little white light aircraft.

"Let's just hope that the pilot's not a convicted felon," Ray joked as he buckled himself in to the seat.

Fraser chuckled.

"Let's hope," he answered.

Four hours flying time, and fortunately they were flying in the right direction. Their pilot, a Jane Erickson, was pleasant enough, talking to them over the intercom during their flight time. Ray dozed through most of it, while Fraser chatted with Jane.

If Ray Vecchio thought the winter snow in Chicago was bad, he certainly wasn't prepared for what he saw, once he'd gotten off the plane. The snow lay in thick fluffy blankets all over the landscape. Trees poked up through the blankets like insistent fingers reaching up towards the sun brightened blue sky.

The very dark skinned woman that met them once the plane had landed introduced herself as Inspector Devi Manacher. Ray was surprised that she warmly embraced Fraser, instead of shaking his hand. He was even more surprised to see him return the welcoming hug.

"It's good to see you, Benton," she smiled, curiously as she drew back from him. "It's been a while. What are you doing here?"

He smiled down at her. He was glad to see the inspector and hoped she would be willing to help out a fellow Mountie in need.

"Just a bit of vacation time," he said.

Her dark eyes slid to the man that stood behind him and then moved back to the Mountie.

Ben quickly made amends.

"My friend here, has never seen the Territories. I think it'll be good for him."

The dark eyes went back to Ray and the face broke into a smile.

"Of course. It's a great time to come up. Winter is always beautiful."

Cold too Ray thought miserably, holding his arms about his chest tighter.

Ben inclined his head to Devi and said,

"You, by the way, haven't seen me."

She hesitated for a moment and smiling broadly this time and touched her finger to the side of her nose.

"Right," she said and turned to leave him and Ray. "I'll get the keys."

Ben watched her walk back into the airstrip building before he turned back to Ray. Ray had also watched the woman walk away and he looked at Ben.

"What was that all about?"

"She's just a friend," Ben explained. "Actually, she's an American. Comes from Brooklyn, New York, moved up here, became a citizen and then became an officer."

Ray frowned.

"That kind of thing happen often?" he asked.

Ben grinned and took Ray's arm.

"More than you'd probably like to think. C'mon. She's going to supply us with a vehicle and a place to stay."

"She's going to give us a place to stay? I thought we were going up to your cabin," Ray asked, as he followed Fraser to the building.

"Well, I'd been thinking about that," Ben told him. "It would be foolish to go to a place that can be easily tracked. They know that I've got a place up here and they'd know if you show up missing that I would have taken you. And what would be the most likely place for us to go? My father's cabin. So, we're going someplace else. It's a bit more secluded."

"More secluded than your father's cabin?" Ray gasped. "That would be a feat. And does she work here? I thought she was a Mountie."

"She is, Ray. Part time pilot. Now c'mon. Let's hurry."

The inspector's cabin sat out in the middle of nowhere, quiet and grey against the snowy white backdrop. Ben had explained to Ray, that the honor code between Mounties was a strong silent one. And because of that, no questions were asked, but everything would be done to help. Although Ben's lengthy explanation had eaten up the travel time, Ray was happy to finally see the last leg of their travel in sight.

"Almost there, Ray," Ben told him.

Fraser pulled the borrowed carryall up to the side of the woman's cabin and once he'd shut off the engine, he sat there a moment, just looking through the windshield, admiring the two story building.

Ben glanced at Ray and smiled.

"Are you ready?"

"Sure am," he answered and opened the rusty door. Ray tried to walk by himself to the front steps but his strength was fleeting. His legs were the first to go and he leaned heavily on the warm truck hood. Ben, who's already made his way towards the cabin, turned around to see Ray start to sag. He went to him and wrapped his arm about his waist.

"Want me to carry you?" he teased.

Ray shook his head and gasped seized with sudden pain.

"Inside," he gasped and Fraser helped him.

The cabin had that closed cedar dusty smell to it and as Ray settled into one of the two chairs near the fireplace, he immediately began to sneeze.

"Oh, my allergies," he murmured, grasping the bridge of his burning nose.

Fraser went out to get their bags and when he came back he said to Ray, "Are you hungry?"

Ray tried to make his very sore body more comfortable in the chair.

"No, Benny. I'm just sleepy. That's all."

"Well, Ray. She said there are some blankets. The bed..." he glanced around and then up the wooden stairs. "I guess is upstairs and it is yours."

Ben went to the small wooden cabinet near the door, murmured a word of delight and pulled out blankets. Ben took them upstairs and began neatly laying them on bed as Ray pushed himself out of the chair. He used the railing to help himself up the dozen or so steps. The upstairs was just one long large bedroom. Against the far wall was a double bed. Windows took up most of the south wall and the room was empty except for the bed and a writing table and chair.

"She only comes here in the summer," Fraser explained to Ray as he crossed the room. "Devi tours with the RCMP choir. She's quite musically talented."

Fraser took Ray's coat as he shambled by. When Ray sat down on the bed, Ben knelt to remove his boots. Ray sat there and allowed it before he flopped backwards and Ben covered him up. Ray slept fitfully for nearly four days straight, all the while he didn't eat or drink very much. But what he did manage to eat, he couldn't keep down. Ben was worried, as he watched his friend foolishly waste away.

One evening, two weeks after they'd arrived at the cabin, Ben sat watching Ray lay on the bed and stare up at the wooden ceiling.

"Ray, please. You can't go on like this," he said.

Ray sat upright, and huddled over the mug of bland broth that Ben handed to him. Ben must have said those same words hundreds of times during their first week.

"You need to get to a hospital."

"I don't want to," Ray answered stubbornly.

Fraser sighed.

"Hospitals can be traced. If they find me, they'd find you. I don't want to endanger you like that."

"That just doesn't make sense, Ray. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I've done it this long, I'm sure I can continue to do it. It's you I'm worried about."

Ray looked down into the mug and said nothing. He shuddered within the warm circle of the blankets and continued to lap at the broth. But Ray knew Ben was right, he would die there if he didn't get help. But, how could he find a better place to die? They didn't discuss it anymore. Fraser sighed wearily and went downstairs to sleep on the couch. Dief curled up with Ray in the double bed.

Ray woke up what seemed only minutes after he's fallen asleep. The room was dark and he lay there a moment, letting his eyes adjust. He felt nauseous and he sat up in bed. Ray kicked back the covers and careful not to step on Dief, who'd found his way to the floor or wake Fraser as he shakily made his way down the stairs and to the door. He snagged his coat, stepped into his boots and quietly went out.

The frozen dawn air hit him like a punch and Ray bit back his cry of pain. Every nerve was awake in his wounded body and he felt them quite clearly. Every footstep was like peeling his flesh away from his bones, but he kept moving. It was too cold and the frosty morning air made his skin hurt. His wounds still hadn't closed and every movement sent agonizing deeply seated pain into the core of him. Ray trudged through the shin deep snow farther and farther away from the cabin. He was going to throw up again and he didn't want Fraser to know. He knew Fraser would only worry himself sick.

When he couldn't move another step he went down. On his knees was a good place to be Ray thought as he hunched over his thighs in the deep white snow, clutching his chest and belly. He rocked back and forth hoping to quell the nausea that coated the back of his throat with tangy bile. In the distant part of his mind he heart Fraser's boots crunching through the snow as he ran towards him. He'd slipped out of the bed, while the Mountie was still asleep, in the hopes that he would be back before he awoke. Damn that Mountie hearing!

Oh God! He moaned silently, reaching out to push himself straight so that he could struggle to his feet.

Fraser was the last person he'd wanted to see him lose his guts all over the neat white snow. Ben had done so much for him already, and Ray tried hard to get better for him. But with each passing day, he felt weaker and weaker, and was unable to keep anything down. He was worrying Fraser, who constantly suggested that they see a doctor, but always deferred to Ray's protests.

The Mountie dropped to Ray's side and immediately grasped his arms and drew him up. As his knees threatened to give way, Ray clung to Fraser's strong frame, feeling the weakness in his fingers and hands draining his strength away.

"Ray!"

Ray perked up a bit, hearing his voice shouted that close to his ear.

"Go away...Benny..." he moaned piteously as he tried to pull away and swallow his mouthful of saliva. "I'm... I'm gonna be s-sick..."

Fraser's manner changed immediately from concern to cold efficiently. He let Ray slip back down to his splayed knees and supported him as he proceeded to hunch over again. Ray's all too thin body convulsed, wracked with his beginning dry heaves. Ray coughed unproductively for a moment and then closed his eyes, not wanting to see the filmy liquid of hot sour vomit that spewed from his lips. He clenched his hand on Ben's arm, and held tight to him. Ben rubbed his back through the coat.

"It's ok, it's ok..." he murmured over and over, hoping to soothe his friend.

He continued rubbing his back and shoulders until Ray ceased heaving and had sagged against his heels. Fraser reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe Ray's mouth. He then dipped into the clean snow and held a hand full to Ray's lips. He took in a small bit and refused the rest. They stayed like that, Ray leaning against Fraser's side, still gripping his forearm as he came down from the pain in his gut. Ben curled his arms about Ray again and hauled him upright.

"C'mon, Ray," he suggested, reaching around to Ray's front to hold close the front of his coat as they made their way back to the cabin.

Why Ray had wandered so far from the warmth of the cabin like some sick dog, amazed Fraser.

He couldn't stop the question from leaving his lips.

"Why did you wander away like this?" he asked, hoisting Ray up against his hip again to get a better grip on him. "What if I couldn't find you, and you couldn't make it back?"

Shamefully, Ray hung his head. Ben wasn't actually scolding his because the tone of his voice only revealed his fear.

"I was embarrassed," he admitted, defeat in his voice.

"Why, Ray? It's just me. You're sick, these things happen."

Tears formed beneath Ray's closed lids. He wished someone could just turn him off and fix him. He felt sick and horrible all the time, and it seemed nothing Fraser did, made him feel any better. And Ray knew Ben was doing all he could possibly do.

Ray didn't answer the question, but hung onto Ben as they slowly made their way back to the safety of the cabin.

"What about... that..." Ray asked, referring to the mess they were leaving behind.

Fraser tightened his grip on him.

"Don't worry. Save it for the ice weasels."

"Ice weasels?"

"Oh, they come out at night in search for carrion, all sorts of things."

"They eat that?" Ray asked in disgust and disbelief.

"They eat anything," Fraser teased, chuckling and then added, "don't be a sap, Ray."

Ben helped Ray into the cabin, removed his coat and sat him down in the cushioned chair before the fireplace. He draped a blanket; the crme coloured one with the broad red green and yellow bands over his lap. He'd specifically packed that one because he knew Ray liked it.

"Here, Ray," he said gently putting a warm cup of tea into his hands. "Drink it."

"I don't want it," Ray mumbled, pulling the blanket up around his chest and shoulders like an old man, fending off the cold in a wintry park.

"You need it, so drink it. Don't make me force it into you."

Fraser did not need to affect any inimical tone, for Ray to do anything he told him to. Ray sipped at the bland liquid, for fear of finding out that wickedly sick method Fraser would have of forcing tea into him. He glanced up at the pleasantly smiling Mountie and rolled his eyes.

"Good, Ray," he said before sitting down on the low end table in front of Ray.

Ben rubbed his eyes and hung his head. He was feeling tired and sad. It was the third time that week Ray had vomited up his food. He'd hardly been eating and all Ben could get him to take in were bits of bread and watery tea.

"Ray," he began, still holding his hand to his forehead. "You have to see a doctor. You can't go on not eating, and bringing up what you do manage to take in."

Ben raised his blue eyes to meet Ray's before the cop looked away. Ray looked worn and sick. His hollow cheeks were lightly furred with old growth. Fraser dropped his eyes again, sighing heavily. He would never forgive himself if his fecklessness and weakness in the face of Ray's stubbornness were the cause of his best friend's death. He knew Ray's decision to stay away from any medical treatment was a dangerous mistake, and nothing he could say or do could convince Ray otherwise.

"O.k., Benny," Ray finally murmured.

Fraser perked up and looked at Ray.

"Really, Ray? You'll go?" he asked, surprised, yet immensely relieved and pleased.

Ray nodded and held up a slender finger.

"On one condition."

"Of course, Ray. What is it?" Fraser asked, fearing that one condition would defeat the purpose of going to the doctor.

"That we see your medicine man friend. I don't want no city doctor. They can trace that."

Ben started and his mouth flopped opened.

"Ray. I... I didn't think you... well..."

Fraser balked, wanting to say that he didn't think Ray believed in Tshtsiam medicinal talent. But he was happy that his friend had come around to some sensible thinking, instead of perpetuating his death in their remote dwelling.

"Well... ok, Ray. If that's what you want. We'll go."

Ben got up and began throwing a few of Ray's belonging into a small duffel bag. Ray turned to watch him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We're going. As I promised you," Fraser answered, as if Ray had lost his mind.

"Now?" Ray asked sitting upright.

"Yes, Ray. Now," he answered smiling patiently.

He then helped Ray to stand with one hand and with the other, he caught the blanket before it hit the floor.

"Are you feeling up to traveling?" Ben asked him, his eyes searching his thin face.

Ray shrugged and glanced around the small front room of the cabin.

"I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"

He gave Ben a smile that relaxed the tense Mountie who then quickly returned it.

"No, Ray," he said warmly. "You don't."

"They really ought to have seat belts in this thing, Benny," Ray muttered when the carry-all finally stopped jarring his guts all around.

Fraser brought the jeep to a slow halt, jerked up the ancient handbrake and glanced over at him and as he got out said, "I'm sorry, Ray. It's probably older than the both of us, together."

He then grinned as if he'd come up with the best explanation for not having seatbelts. He snagged Ray's bag from the back and held out his hand to help Ray out of the jeep. The Chicago cop, kicked back the blanket and ever mindful of his pride refused the help. He could see the people of the small town already turning from their business to peer at the two strangers that had just arrived.

Ben's friend Eric lived in a village that was small and close. Ray felt like he was walking right into someone's living room, barging into his or her daily lives, a place where he didn't belong. But he shuffled along in the muddy snow, with Fraser who seemed oblivious. They hadn't gotten far before Ray spotted Eric. The man came out of a squat wooden building and walked directly towards them. He did not smile, or give any sign that he recognized the two men when they finally came within speaking distance. Ray looked at Fraser for his cue as to how to act. Since the Mountie remained silent, so he did too. There must have been some sort of weird out staring greeting going on between the two men that he had no idea of.

Eric's dark expressive eyes came to rest on Ray before they moved back to Fraser. A slow smile then parted his full lips and he reached out to take Ben's hand.

"Hallo, Frasher," he said, firmly shaking his strong broad hand.

"Hello, Eric. How are you?" answered the smiling Mountie.

"I am well."

"How is your mother? Has she finished her degree?"

Ray remembered that Eric's mother was interested in Chicago architecture so much that she decided to pursue a degree in modern art.

Eric cocked his head a bit and let his eyes slide away from Ben.

"My mother... she is a stubborn woman. Now she is onto her second one. She wants to teach what she's learned."

"That's quite admirable," Fraser told him. "And your father?"

"Sick. The changes in climate take him down a lot. But he's seen the worst of it."

Eric looked at Ray again and wordlessly he reached out and took the detective's arm. His eyes observed him at length before he spoke.

"Your friend here has yet to see the worst."

Fraser stiffened and he looked directly at Ray. He put a supporting arm about his shoulders and said to Eric,

"That's why we're here. I'm... we're hoping that we can see your grandmothers. If they will see us."

Normally, Ray hated when Fraser spoke for him, but he was way too tired and nauseous to complain. So he allowed it.

"Of course, Frasher. Of course they will see you. Come. I will ask for you."

Eric turned on heel and marched away, with his mukluks leaving those odd indentations in the snow. The last thing Ray noticed, before he closed his eyes was the way the dim morning sun played with the long waves of ebony hair that flowed in the breeze.

"Thank you," Fraser said to his back.

He secured his arm about Ray's waist this time, pulled Ray's free arm about his own shoulders and hoisted him upright so that he could lean against him as they walked. Ray squeezed his lids shut tightly and relished the sensation of Fraser against him, with Fraser's strong arm about him. Fraser felt so good there, with him. He felt so warm, sturdy and solid that Ray gave up trying to stay awake. He knew whatever happened, Fraser would be there to protect him. Fraser would make it right. He had a knack for doing that and Ray loved him for it.

"Ray?" he whispered.

Ray opened his eyes.

"Yea, Benny," he croaked.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Benny. Let's just get going, huh?"

"Very well," Ben answered and together, they followed after Eric.

Eric led the way to a small yellow painted wood house just on the outskirts of the main street. As he walked up to the front door, he gestured that Ray and Fraser stay behind and they waited outside while Eric went in to speak on their behalf. Ray leaned more heavily on Ben's support and after a moment of biting his lip in worry, he murmured,

"What if they say no?"

Fraser looked down at Ray. He hadn't thought about that consequence. Refusal hadn't been an option.

"They won't," he answered, now feeling a bit uneasy. "They won't."

Ray had planted the seed of uncertainty into him and instead of thinking of how much better Ray would feel afterwards, he was plagued with images of Ray dying horribly in the woods, with him impotently standing by. Finally Eric came out of the wood house and waved for them to come in. Fraser sighed with relief and helped Ray up the steps and inside.

The cool house was bright with the coming sun and sparsely decorated. Along the jauntily painted walls of yellow and blue, were hand crafted Native art and paintings. A small dinette sat off to the side wall, beneath a long low curtained window. The floor was bare wood covered with a hand-woven blanket of red, black and white threads. Looking at all the homey signs, Ray felt the tension loosening in his chest. Against the wall on the door's side were two legless chairs that faced the interior of the living room. One of the women still occupied one while the other woman stood in the center of the room waiting for them. She gestured that Ray should sit in the other empty chair.

Before he even allowed Ray to sit down on one of the low cushioned chairs, Ben began to babble his thanks and how grateful he was that they agreed to help them and...

The sitting woman abruptly stood, took hold of Ray and wordlessly instructed Eric to dispose of the nervous Mountie. Eric did so, pulling the man out by his arm. Alarmed, that Ben was leaving him, Ray immediately tried to struggle up from the awkwardly low chair. The old woman's strong hand held him at bay.

"Benny..." Ray rasped his voice now merely a hollow husk.

Ben glanced back at Ray as he was drawn away.

Once they'd stepped out of doors, Fraser yanked his arm from Eric's grip.

"Why can't I stay with him!" Ben demanded with his voice loud and harsh in the brightening sunlight.

When he realized he'd actually voiced his thoughts, his cheeks reddened and he looked away from Eric's amused brown eyes. Eric gave him a grin, satisfied that his suspicions about his friend and the American had been confirmed. The Mountie was so frightened and so in love with the American, he didn't know how to handle himself anymore. His grip on stoicism was quickly slipping beyond his reach.

"It's their wishes," Eric explained, glancing up at the house. "You'd only get in the way. And... you talk too much."

"Did they tell you that?" Ben asked looking directly at him.

He was trying to soothe his anger, hoping that he wouldn't explode and do something he would regret. Eric continued to smile cryptically and he then turned and walked away, leaving Ben standing there, open mouthed and gaping after him.

"Come, Mountie. Let's get something to eat."

"Why did you make Fraser leave?" Ray asked one of the women.

"He would only get in the way," she answered with a kind smile.

"But I wanted him to stay with me," Ray insisted, weakly.

The two women exchanged a knowing look.

"In due time. You'll see him again. He hasn't gone far."

"Where... did he go?" Ray managed to gasp.

He was having a hard time finding and keeping his voice. He tried to sit upright in the low armless legless chair, but he failed, unable to find anything to hold onto. Ray stretched out his legs with great effort and let his arms flop at his sides. He slipped down just a bit and his knees splayed slightly and he put his head against the top of the chair. He hurt like hell and it was taking all his strength to keep from crying in pain. The women bent over him and ignored his question as their gentle fingers stripped off his coat and then his two sweaters. Ray closed his eyes. Fingers stroked his closely cropped hair and over his gaunt face.

"What is your name?" asked one.

Ray looked up at her and her voice was so sweet that the tears welled up in his eyes. He was ashamed to have been so tearful in front of those women, but he couldn't help it. He was losing himself; he was slipping far beyond his control and all he had to hold onto was the promise that they could help him find his way back. He needed to get back to Fraser. Benny, his love.

"Ray," he rasped, feeling like a sick little boy in his mother's care.

He hated the weakness eating away at his body. He hated the sickness.

Both women chuckled simultaneously.

"My name is Sasha and this is Smilla."

Smilla nodded in greeting. She had yellow bows in her ebony hair and her black eyes shimmered with a strange light. She looked much older that Sasha, and although her face was soft and withered with age, Ray could see the light of playfulness in her manner.

"Both our sons are named Ray."

"You are a friend of the Mountie Fraser?" Sasha asked.

Ray nodded.

"He is a good man. We are glad to help any friend of his."

"Thank you," Ray whimpered giving up the fight to contain his agony.

Soft hands caressed his face.

"I know you're hurting," Smilla said, her voice low and husky. "I can see it. We can't guarantee that what we do will heal you, but we'll give it a try."

Ray nodded and allowed them to take off the rest of his clothes, baring him down to his borrowed longjohns. Both women hauled him upright and took him into the next room. There was a long bed in that next room, next to a sunken tub and the two women sat him on that bed. The filling of the mattress sagged just a bit and molded under his weight. It was all that Ray could do, not to lay down on that soft mattress. A hearth filled the wall behind the sunken tub and along it's brick front hung native figures and dream catchers.

"This is where we perform our magic," Sasha teased, unbuttoning Ray's longjohns, while Smilla unlaced and pulled off his boots and socks.

When Ray realized that they meant to strip him naked, he immediately felt uncomfortable and began to babble his objection.

"Don't worry," Sasha reassured him, smiling motherly. "We promise not to look."

Her promise didn't relax Ray any, but he allowed it and even lifted his hips to help her slip the red wool off him. Sasha lay him back on the bed and bent over him to study his wounds. They were most definitely infected.

"You'd rather die up here with Fraser, than go into a hospital?" she asked frankly.

Ray didn't have the energy to react and cover his emotions.

"Yessss..." he moaned.

"I'm sure he tried to talk you into seeing a hospital, yea?"

"Yes..."

"Why didn't you listen to him? He cares for your well being."

Ray didn't answer. He turned his head away from hers embarrassed that she'd read him clearly.

Smilla, half listening to their conversation, went about burning sage to purify the area and setting buckets of snow on the hearth to boil.

Ray lay there for a long time, not speaking, listening to the sounds of the house, and listening to the murmur of the bubbling water. He watched as Sasha opened a small ceramic tub of salve and he concentrated on the feel of her fingers on his body while she smoothed the soothing balm all over him. As she did this, that deep seated ache in his wounds lessened just a bit and it didn't feel like someone was yanking on the nerves in his body anymore. The salve left a slight tingling sensation on his skin and smelled like wintergreen. Her hands touched him and calmed him all without being sexual and Ray began to loosen.

"Talk to us, Ray," Smilla said as she began pouring the hot water into the sunken tub.

Ray opened his eyes, having been lost in the confident luxuriousness of the woman's hands as she worked the tired muscles of his left arm. She tenderly massaged the budding scar tissue at his shoulder where the bullet has passed cleanly through him.

Ray thought a moment, not knowing exactly what to say, so he started at the beginning. He gave his full name, birth date, height, last known weight, and badge number. He then talked softly about his family, but avoided talking about the Mountie.

"What about the Mountie?" Smilla pried. "You don't talk about him."

Ray smiled to himself and recited what he'd heard Fraser say so many, many times.

"He first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of his father, and for reasons, that don't need exploring at this juncture, he remained, attached as liaison to the Canadian Consulate."

"Interesting," Smilla said when he was done.

Ray didn't answer.

"You care about him?" she asked.

"Yes. He saved my life."

He didn't hesitate.

"Indeed," she said with a smile. "The water's ready. Is he?"

Sasha looked up at her and nodded.

"He's ready."

Smilla and Sasha helped Ray to the hot pool of water and eased him into the tub. Ray hissed in a breath and he moaned softly as the water engulfed him. It was a fantastic feeling to feel the heat and liquid pulling him down into the steamy depths. When he'd settled on the smooth stone bench, the water began turning a pleasant shade of red and a soft scent of flowers rose all around him.

"Drink," Sasha directed him, handing to him a wooden cup.

Ray took the cup and drank the bitter liquid without complaint.

"Now, relax and soak. Let your body accept this," she said taking back the cup.

"What's it going to do?" Ray asked leaning back in the water, resting his back against the curved lip of the tub. He stretched his legs out as far as the diameter of the ring would allow.

"Hopefully, the balm will clean your skin and the herbs in what you drank will help rid you of the infection. So you can start healing right this time. Hit you from the inside and the outside. Now this isn't instantaneous. It needs time to work."

She smiled grandly. Smilla came to stand beside her and she folded her arms. Sasha bent a little and put her hand on top of Ray's balding head.

"Rest now. We'll make you something to eat."

Ray nodded, suddenly realizing that he was indeed hungry. He hadn't felt hungry in a long time. At least that was a good sign. He fell asleep.

He dreamed about a man dressed in red and black serge and some silly riding pants. But the look on his handsome pale face was so beatific that he couldn't help being drawn to him. He saw himself walking up to his side, reaching out to take the hand the man extended to him. Ray itched to kiss those softly smiling lips, but the man only drew him into a warm embrace, curving his strong arms about him, holding him close. Ray returned the embrace feeling safe and protected in those arms. He closed his eyes, putting his head on one of those yardstick broad shoulders and sighed comfortably.

Ray stayed, soaked and dreamed for what seemed hours and it was Sasha's hand on his shoulder that woke him.

"Come and eat. It's ready."

Ray blinked up at her, feeling rested and wonderfully refreshed, so much that he had the strength to push himself out of the tub and dry himself. Smilla tended his clean pink wounds and dressed them accordingly. She then gestured that he should get dressed in the old clean jeans and flannel shirts she'd laid out. Afterwards, he looked down at himself, smiling at the fact that he looked like a mirror image of Fraser. But soon a surge of weakness took him and he had to sit down for a moment to keep from falling over.

"Careful," Sasha cautioned him. "You are far from being better."

"Where's Fraser?" Ray asked. "Please let me see him."

"Soon. You need to be worried about you right now. Not him. He's doing enough worrying about you already."

Ray hung his head and after taking a few breaths he gingerly stood upright and made his way to the table near the fireplace.

He sat down in the chair closest to the fire and all but devoured the fry bread and caribou meat they'd placed before him.

"So your stomach is settled?"

"Yes. Thank you. Whatever you did, thank you."

"Mind over matter," Sasha said sipping her tea. "It's all your doing. We just gave you a little head start push. This isn't the noble native saving the foolish American bit that they always show on t.v., hon. This is real life."

Ray looked stunned and he stared at her.

"That wasn't what I meant," he protested. "I mean... that I didn't do anything. It was that stuff you made me drink. It was the bath. I didn't do it."

"Of course you did. You think those antibiotics that they give you in the hospital would work without your body accepting that they work? I work in hospitals. I've seen how a body can reject what's obviously good for it. I've seen it. You want to get better; there's no doubt about that. You just needed something else... I don't know if you've found it, but... I think maybe you have an idea of the thing you needed."

She shrugged and went back to her tea.

Ray ducked his head and reached out for his own cup of hot barley tea. He didn't know if he liked what she was getting at. He barely wanted to admit to himself what he felt about Ben, and he knew that's to what she was eluding.

But had he 'found' how he felt about the Mountie?

Is that what he needed?

To admit that he needed Ben?

Ray shook his head, dismissing the notion, and slowly drank the tea.

When lunch was over, Sasha took Ray back to bed where he slept soundly and peacefully until the next morning.

The first thing Ray saw in the morning were two huge playful brown eyes. The wolf barked loudly directly in his face when he noticed Ray was finally awake. Ray heard the squeak of chair feet across the wood floor and then he saw the face of the man about whom he'd been dreaming.

"Benny!" he cried and manfully restrained himself from throwing himself upon the Mountie to hug and kiss him.

The man smiled down at him and Ray noticed the lines about his eyes as if he hadn't gotten a whole lot of sleep the night before. But Ben's eyes were bright and happy in the morning light.

"It's good to see you, Ray," he said softly and then slipped his hands into the pockets of his loose jeans.

"It's good to see you too, Benny. Nice of you to come back."

Fraser's smile faltered a little.

"Ray... I, didn't mean to leave yesterday... I mean I didn't..."

Ray raised a hand. The two women... well they kind of explained to him why Ben had left, so he knew it wasn't the Mountie's fault.

"It's s'ok Benny. Don't worry about it."

The Mountie smiled, brightly and Ray desperately wanted to kiss him then. Ben then sat down on the bed next to him. He looked closely into his eyes.

"Are you really feeling better?" he asked quietly.

Ray nodded.

"Just a little sleepy, but I don't really feel sick anymore."

Relief was plainly evident on Ben's face and he nodded.

"Good, that's very good."

Ray cleared his throat and looked shy for a moment.

"Are you staying this time, or what?"

Ben looked away from him and at the two women who sat at the table near the fire. They were drinking tea and talking quietly.

He shrugged.

"If they let me, I will. If they don't then... I'll come back when I can."

"Geez, Benny," he said referring to the two women. "And I thought we were adult men, here."

Ray smiled.

"I didn't think that our mommies ran the show anymore."

Fraser returned his smile, but said nothing in comment.

"Enjoy," Smilla said to both men as they sat out in the sunshine on the back porch of the house.

She placed a plate of bread onto Ray's lap.

Ray immediately reached for the plateful of fry bread. He had grown to adore Smilla's bread and he ate it eagerly washing it down with barley tea. Ben, sitting comfortably in a plastic chair a few feet from him, watched Ray with pleasure, unable to keep back his grin.

"What?" Ray asked, when he noticed him staring. "You want some?"

Ben shook his head, declining the offer. He just wanted to sit as he was and to watch Ray simply eat. Ray busied himself with gazing out into the small garden in the backyard while he wolfed down the tasty bread.

"It's like watching sunshine, isn't it?" Smilla asked from the back doorway.

Ben and Ray turned towards her. Her eyes were on Ben.

"Like watching sunshine," she repeated with a grin.

Ben looked away, embarrassed. He hadn't realized he was staring at Ray, or at least staring so overtly that she would notice and feel a need to comment on it. Ray looked at him, swallowing what he had in his mouth.

"What?" he asked Smilla.

"He's looking at you, like he's never seen you before," she said, further embarrassing the Mountie.

Ray looked back at Ben, who was desperately studying his hands as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. His cheeks were becoming redder by the moment.

"Like he hasn't seen you in ages. There's something in his eyes."

Ray studied Ben's face for a long time.

"Binding. You should do a binding with him."

Fraser looked up at her and found it hard to bite back his sudden anger.

"I don't think that's necessary. I don't think that it's necessary, for you to..."

"Benny," Ray started, concerned with the heated tone in Ben's voice.

Smilla smiled patiently at the both of them and returned to the house.

After a long quiet moment, Ray looked to Ben for an explanation of the woman's cryptic words.

"Benny, I don't understand. What is she talking about?"

Ben cleared his throat and a little more vigorously rubbed at the back of his hand with his thumb. He pondered his response and tried to surmise Ray's reaction. But he couldn't, so he let the explanation spill out of him.

Ray sat back after he was done just staring at him. Marrying Fraser? Binding to him? He wouldn't dare dream about that.

"Is that what they think is going on between us?" Ray asked. "They think we're in love... I mean like lovers?"

"Apparently," Fraser answered, not looking at Ray. "She thinks I wouldn't have done all this for you, if I didn't love you."

"Ah," Ray answered and touched the top of Dief's furry head as he came snuffling around his boots for either a stroke or a scrap of food. Ray gave him a piece of bread.

"Ah?" Ben wanted to know.

He lifted his eyes to see his friend peering out into the sun lit yard, his handsome face open and relaxed. Ben saw no anger or animosity or disgust at the suggestion anywhere in his features.

"Just thinking," Ray told him, flicking his eyes briefly to Ben's and then back to the yard.

"About what, Ray?" Ben pressed a little shyly.

"Well... I mean, if I had to be with anybody, that wasn't a woman... I'd want it to be you."

Ray saw the Mountie's face brighten and he panicked. Before Ben could speak in reply, Ray said,

"I mean, you know. If I was interested in guys, then...yea. I'd want it to be you."

At that, the Mountie's face closed and he dropped his eyes. Ray sighed a breath of quiet relief. He definitely didn't want to go down that path with Fraser, ever. They sat in silence until, Sasha came out onto the porch to retrieve Ray and send Ben back with Eric.

Eric's grandmothers released Ray into Ben's care a few weeks later. Ben knew that Ray had gone through some rituals, that he couldn't possibly accept, and Ben had to force himself to wait for Ray to feel comfortable enough to discuss them with him. Ray would have to take his own time. But aside from that, Fraser was very happy to have Ray healthy again. He was happy to take him home.

They spent the rest of the night, quietly in their own-shared world, quietly waiting to grow drowsy from the fire and waiting to draw the night to a close. Fraser sat in his usual spot, in the chair off to the side of the hearth, reading from his father's journal. Dief languished between slumber and wakefulness, annoyed that every crackle or pop from the fire could result in a singed and burnt wolfish coat. So he had to stay awake to catch any offending spark.

And, although he pretended to be dosing, sitting upright on the couch, Ray watched the two of them. He watched Fraser alternately go from reading to toying with Dief. Ray could see the mischievous expression on Ben's face as Dief would raise his head sleepily and glare at the Mountie, before giving a dramatic groan and putting his head down again. But, heedlessly, Ben would continue to prod the nodding wolf with the side of his foot or casually stroke Dief's exposed underbelly with his sole. No matter what Fraser may say to the contrary, Ray was convinced that he loved that wolf with all his heart.

But then again, Ray thought, smiling slightly to himself, how could you not love Dief? He got under your skin and stayed there. Dief was amazing. Then again, so was Fraser. How could he not love Fraser? How could anyone not love Fraser?

Ray thought back to their conversation about the binding ceremony and how he made it crystal clear that he would and could never be interested in men... that way. And he remembered the disappointment in Fraser's face. But then as he continued to think about it, maybe that disappointment was actually relief. Maybe Ben was just feeling him out, hoping that he didn't feel any emotion for him, aside from friendship. Ray knew otherwise. He loved the Mountie. He loved him madly and deeply.

The heat of his desire for the dark haired man seared him inside, and he could no longer hold it back. It was high time he told Ben how he felt.

But thinking about telling the straight as an arrow Mountie that you are in love with him and actually telling the straight as an arrow Mountie that you are in love with him, was an entirely different kettle of fish. And how the hell did those two little old ladies know how he felt? He didn't even know how he felt, much less broadcast it so that everyone else knew.

"Benny?"

"Yes, Ray?" he asked, not looking up from the thin black book.

"Play something for me, will you?"

Fraser looked up from his book and across the small room to where Ray sat on the couch bundled up in his favorite blanket. Fraser marked the page where he'd left off and closed the book. Holding it in his lap, he smiled gently at Ray. Ray had been feeling much more like himself over the passed week and Ben was extremely happy, because of that.

"I didn't think you knew I played anything," he said, unable to mask the pleasure that lit his face.

Ray snickered a bit, and studied Ben's eager face in the flickering firelight. He had, of course, seen a guitar case in the Mountie's office a few times. And he noticed Ben had been admiring the two guitars Devi owned leaning in the corner of the living room.

"I don't know if you can play, Benny," he said. "I just saw that you have a guitar, so I assume that it means something to you, and that you can play it."

Fraser followed Ray's gaze to the two large black cases hidden in the corner of the room and smiled.

Ray answered his smile with an encouraging one of his own as he said,

"Well, are you going to just sit there and grin, or are you going to play something? I don't think she'll mind."

Ben responded to the solicitous warmth in Ray's voice. He got up, put the journal aside and went to retrieve one of the instruments. He had been a long time since he'd held a shapely songstress. It had been a long time since he'd felt the strings beneath his fingers and holding it in that moment, he realized how much he'd missed it, how much playing it was apart of him.

Ben looked at Ray and then putting it down on the table, he unlatched the case. With gentle hands, he lifted the voluptuous and gleaming instrument from its velvety cage and stood there admiring it in the warm mellow firelight. The honey brown wood face, shone like burnished gold and its darker back reflected the flames back at Ray. Ray admired Fraser, standing there, looking like he had just found home, looking as if the thing in his hands could solve every problem in the world. The expression on his face was ineffable and Ray felt a lump beginning to grow in his throat. Ben was so beautiful like that, in that instant in time and his attraction to him flared like sonic booms inside him. Ray caught his breath, but he didn't drop his eyes, even when Ben looked at him again.

"All right, Ray," he said, breaking the moment for Ray. "What would you like me to play."

Ray cleared his throat, as he slowly came back into himself from his fantasy and answered quickly.

"That desert song you were humming before."

Ben looked at him, and thought for a moment, before he realized the song to which Ray referred. It was actually a song written by a person that he'd met by chance at the Consulate years ago, one Friday afternoon. The dark haired man had just come in for some information on traveling by train in Canada and had introduced himself as David.

Upon his back was a naked guitar, and feeling so absolutely captivated and drawn to the man, Fraser couldn't help himself. He stood in the doorway as David talked with Ovitz, and he stared at the shabby instrument. He studied the dark haired man, who couldn't have been much older than he was, and then did something quite out of character. He invited him out to play. Fraser didn't bother to change out of his uniform; he merely took an early lunch, grabbed his own guitar and together, he and David sat down on one of the benches out in front of the Consulate building and played almost every song they knew.

It surprised the both of them that nearly every song they knew were one in the same. And the ones the other didn't know were quickly taught. People even dropped coins and paper bills in front of them, but they sang to each other and strummed contentedly oblivious to their growing audience and to the money. The only thing that broke them from their fun were the chimes from the tower clock signaling that Fraser's lunch was over. They shook hands and thanked each other. David scooped up the money and dumped it into a nearby Salvation Army kettle stand. Fraser was more pleased than shocked to see him do this. They shook hands again, Fraser wished him good luck on his travels and they parted ways.

"I could tell you, Ray, how I learned the song, but I'd rather play it for you than spoil it with a boring story."

"Your stories are never boring, Fraser," Ray countered with a smirk.

Fraser rolled his eyes.

"So you keep telling me, Ray," he answered smartly.

Ray raised his brows. It was the first time Fraser had a really snappy comeback to one of his teases. Well... it was snappy according to Fraser's record. But he smiled and wrapping the blanket more securely around his body, he leaned back and waited.

Ben sat down in the chair by the fireplace and settled the guitar against the curve of his body. Ray watched this with some amusement for he had half expected Ben to sit upright, to hold the guitar straight and perfect and begin strumming with even precision. It surprised him when Ben slouched in the chair, lay his head back against its top and wriggled a bit, to make himself comfortable. He lay the instrument on his hip so that the butt of it rested on the chair. He stretched his legs out before him and folded them comfortably. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Then his expressive fingers moved and smoothly brought out the first clear note. Ray stiffened and pressed harder into the couch as if unconsciously trying to get away from the pure melody that Ben easily elicited from the guitar. But after a moment he closed his own eyes and relaxed, letting the music wash over him. When Ben began to sing, Ray jolted in shock. It was as if he were singing and meaning the song just for him.

"I'm the desert... you're the rain...
When I'm cracked and dry... you ease my pain. When my aching body crumbles, wanting of a peaceful refrain... I whisper to you softly...
I'm the desert, you're the rain..."

He realized that he had never heard his friend sing before and his voice was nothing he'd expected. He'd expected a firm clear tone, a commanding oration. Instead, what met his ears was a more subdued, smoky sound, mellifluous and sensual. Ben sang from his soul with a sweetness Ray had never tasted. The warmth in Ben's voice filled Ray to the point of overflowing and he whispered his name.

Ray sat there, his heart bursting and his already unstable emotions in overload. He wasn't surprised that something so beautiful could come from the Mountie and he wanted to cry. He wanted to throw his arms about the Mountie and hug him and tell him that he was his best friend in the world. He wanted to thank him for being there for him, when no one else could be. He wanted to kiss his beautiful face and tell him how much he loved him, how much he needed him. But he bit it all back, knowing he would die inside if Fraser rejected him.

The song ended, Fraser stopped singing the last note and they sat there quietly for a long time. Ray sat stiffly, unable to think of something appropriate to say. He was beyond moved, beyond trying to play it cool, but he didn't want to say the wrong thing and completely destroy the lovely moment. Ben sat uncomfortably, wondering if Ray's silence meant that he was either trying not to laugh at his attempt at singing, or was being quiet just to be nice.

"Thank you, Benny," Ray whispered finally.

Ben started and turned to look at his friend. He started to say you're welcome, but the words didn't come.

"Are you all right, Ray?" he asked instead, noticing the strange notes dancing in Ray's voice.

"I'm fine, Benny," Ray answered smiling a small shy smile. "It was a good song. I... I like your voice."

The Mountie blushed and smiled down at the instrument.

"Thank you, Ray. I'm glad. That means a lot."

"Does it?" Ray asked.

"Yes, Ray. It does. You opinion matters to me."

"Why?"

Ben didn't hesitate.

"You're my best friend. It should. Why wouldn't it?"

Ray looked down at his hands.

"Benny. I can't keep beating around the bush here. We gotta talk, seriously."

"What about, Ray?" Ben asked, laying the guitar back in the case and sitting down in the chair to face him.

It was the moment of truth and Ray felt awful. He felt sick and scared, but he had to get out the truth, whether Ben liked it or not. In his mind he could hear himself speaking the words, but his mouth wasn't working to form those difficult words.

"It's just that... I want to thank you for... everything you've done for me. For getting me out of the hospital and bringing me up here. I don't know what I would do without you. I'd probably be dead somewhere in an alley, with dogs eating my feet."

Fraser laughed suddenly, having pictured the image invoked by Ray's words. But he put a hand over his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Ray!" he cried, his voice muffled by his fingers. "It's just that, that was such an absurd idea, I couldn't help it."

Ray chuckled a little glad to have had the tension he was feeling broken by Fraser's outburst.

"Please," Ben said when he'd calmed. "Go on."

Ray ducked his head and marshaled his courage.

"I mean... here you are risking your life for me, they could come up here and shoot us both dead and it would be my fault if you got killed."

Propelled by emotion unseen, Fraser got up suddenly and went to kneel in front of Ray as he continued to stammer through whatever he had the need to get out into the open.

"You didn't force me to do anything, Ray. I did it because... I wanted to."

"I know, Benny," Ray said turning his face from Ben's. "I know. And I know I shouldn't be saying this to you, but I... I just. I'm just in love with you Fraser. I can't keep in inside me anymore."

Ray squeezed shut his eyes and finished in a small voice,

"I know you hate me, now."

Ben's silence condemned him and feeling his insides clench, Ray felt sick again. He opened his eyes.

"I know you don't feel the same way, Benny, but I..."

Fraser moved before Ray could finish his sentence and Ray flinched as the kiss hit him like a punch. Fraser's hands came up to hold his face, but Ray pushed him back.

"Why do you think I don't feel the same?" Ben whispered, looking up into his beautiful green eyes.

Ray stared at him in surprise, unable to feel any pleasure in the affirmation of his desire.

"Benny," he gasped. "How could you?"

A smile crossed the beautiful Mountie's lips.

"How could I love you?" he asked, "how could I not?"

Ray moaned in relief and he leaned back. He put both his hands over his face.

"Benny..." he whispered.

Ben reached up and gently drew Ray's hands down.

"Now you're going to hide from me? After all that you said?" he teased.

Ben sat down on the couch next to Ray's legs and still holding onto his hands smiled at him.

Ray gazed into Ben's appreciative face for a long time, just letting himself take the time to study the man's features.

"When did you know?" Ray asked.

"Detective Armani," Ben answered with a chuckle.

Ray frowned and when the realization of Ben's statement hit him, he laughed out aloud. He could still remember the way Fraser marched up to the holding cell and announced that he was looking for a detective with a grievous misnomer.

"Really?" he asked and Ben nodded.

"I couldn't believe that someone as beautiful as you, could possibly be the cause of the investigation's holdup. I mean... I know you were busy and that my case probably didn't mean very much to you, but looking at you, I was sure you would help me once I'd pleaded my case. I was certain of it."

"Because you thought I was cute."

Ben grinned boyishly and nodded again.

"Very cute," he confirmed reaching up to cup Ray's soft cheek. "But... I didn't fall in love with you until the next week."

Ray snorted, pleased that Ben was relaxed enough with himself to tease him.

"When you fell off the fence."

"Well c'mon what do you expect. Running after you and Willie... I couldn't keep up."

They shared a laugh then and still smiling, Ben leaned towards him, inviting him into a gentler kiss.

"I saw into you, Ray," he admitted as he drew near. "I saw passed your outside and to your heart and I wanted to do this to you, for so very long. Longer than I care to mention."

Ray met his kiss and he closed his eyes against the heady pleasure. Ben's mouth was soft and moist and everything he ever fantasized about. Ray pushed him back again and their eyes met in the dim firelight. Ray saw the question in Ben's face, but he was too afraid to answer it.

"Come to bed," Ray said instead. "It's been a long day... I mean, nothing sexual. We can just get some sleep. O.k.?"

Ben's smile returned and after kissing Ray he got off the sofa to wash up and to change his clothes.

When Ben joined Ray upstairs in the roomy bed, Ray immediately curled up against the Mountie's strong lean body. He slipped his leg between Fraser's thighs and molded his body to him. Ben wrapped his arms about Ray and held him close. He then sighed, infinitely and indescribably contented with the world. And it wasn't long before both men were claimed by fatigue, which mingled with the pleasure of loving and being loved in return.

Ray Vecchio: Ice Prince of the North

Winter in the Northwest Territories is rough. It can wear a man down if he's not careful, if he's not prepared. The Territories can be a man's worst enemy. But Ray Vecchio felt differently. The Territories had become his second home. He could walk through the place of snow and ice, soaking up every ounce of her, loving every moment he spent in her company. He knew exactly what Fraser saw in her, because now, he saw it too.

Ray was adamant about getting into some semblance of shape and he talked Ben into taking him on frequent nature tours that evolved into strenuous hikes. The grandmothers had shown him a better way to exist and he wasn't about to screw up their advice by being lazy. And after seven weeks he was in the best shape of his life, feeling more healthy and alive than he'd ever felt. And although he was very far from the trouble in the states, and far from any place of comfort, he was happy. Truly and honestly happy. And the only thing that made his life worthwhile was the man who'd saved his life.

He and Fraser bonded even more tightly during the time they spent together in the beauty of the Territories. They spent every waking moment together, talking and learning more about the other. Ray wanted to know every detail of the man who'd become his lover. He wanted to know Ben's every thought and his every emotion. He wanted to get into that generous heart to find what truly lay beneath his tough Mountie faade. Though they'd been friends for quite some time, Ray still didn't feel like he knew Ben at all. All he knew was what Ben wanted him to know. Ray wanted to know what Ben didn't want him to know. It was the only way he'd be sure it was really the man inside that he loved and not some figment of his imagination. Ray was pleased to find out that it indeed wasn't his imagination.

And Fraser, well he was just happy to have Ray by his side. He didn't need anything other than that.

But there was something that wasn't right. They never made love, and to Ray, that aspect was essential to every healthy relationship. And he was in fact in a relationship with the Mountie. Each night, they would lay in each other's arms, snuggled down in the single bedroll, whispering about mundane things between indulgent kisses and then almost immediately fall asleep, worn out from the day's excursions. That's where their physical contact ended. But, Ray wanted more and he was afraid, as more time passed that Fraser didn't want the same thing.

After a particularly long six day trek, and while making their way back to the cabin, Ray suggested that they spend dinner outside, to which Fraser readily agreed.

"But it's your turn to cook," Ray told him with a smile.

"So it is," Ben answered and went about preparing a thick hearty stew for the both of them.

Some time later, the two of them sat quietly, listening to the night sounds.

The fire, nestled in a small firewall, crackled and popped between them. Dief was off hunting in the night woods and Ray was uncharacteristically silent and still. Ben felt uneasy as he observed this and he mused on the time they spent during dinner trying to figure what had gone wrong, if anything. Fraser toyed with the cold metal spoon, turning it over between his fingers as he stared into the shimmering firelight. Ray had long ago finished his supper and was sitting back against a rotted tree stump, gazing up with undisguised awe and pleasure at the sparking roof of the sky above.

He shifted the hot cup of coffee back and forth between his naked palms before he spoke.

"That was really good soup, Benny," he said, not looking at Fraser but at the sky.

"Thank you, Ray. I'm glad you liked it. I'm glad that you're eating more."

Ray smiled into the night and lay a hand against his full and settled stomach.

"You could make good food out of rocks and twigs, Benny," Ray went on contentedly.

Fraser looked at him in surprise. Had Ray just lost his mind, or was he saying that to be kind.

Ben ducked his head.

"Now, that's hardly edible," he said at long last.

Ray chuckled thoughtfully, drawing his eyes down to the man that sat crosslegged on a small square of a blanket. They'd sat out directly on the snow and in order not to get wet they sat upon blankets.

"But," Ray said after taking a long swallow from the equally as tasty hand ground coffee, "you know what I mean."

Fraser gave him a smile then and nodded. Ray watched Ben for a while after they'd grown silent again and Fraser began absently poking at the embers in the fire with a long stick and watching the golden sparks fly off into the air. A man who didn't know the Mountie as well as he did would have missed his obvious uneasiness and Ray had a feeling as to the reason behind his behavior.

"We've already had our say last week, Ben," Ray said. "You don't need to be uncomfortable around me, 'cause you told me how you feel. I told you how I felt, so..."

Fraser looked up from the fire and into Ray's endlessly green eyes and he was hopelessly lost again. He was just so new to that whole* love* thing, that Ray was so eager to share with him. And when he'd thought about it, and compared it to what he'd thought he felt with Victoria, those two feelings were nothing alike. With Victoria, all there was between them was sex and he let it go to his head as love, although deep in his heart, he knew she didn't love him at all, no matter what she'd murmured against his lips while they fucked.

But with Ray, all he got was love, love and acceptance, mingling with the comfort and warmth of a close friendship. Who better to fall in love with, than the person who meant the world in his eyes, his best friend? Ray had already seen him at his best and at his worst, and still he stayed by his side. Ray always amazed Fraser and this was again, one of those times.

"I think we should go inside, Ray," Fraser said, rising.

Ray looked up at him.

"You want to go inside?"

"Yes," came the breathless answer.

Ray frowned.

"Are you ok?"

"Please Ray. I just need to... I want us to..."

Heat flared in his face and he couldn't get the words out.

Ray got up and stood close to him. Ben lifted his face and met Ray's concerned eyes.

"You feeling, ok, Benny?" he asked again.

Ben reached out and pulled Ray to him. He devoured his lips in a hungry kiss, hoping to convey to Ray what his body needed, but what his mouth could not explain. He used his tongue, and plunged it deep into Ray's giving mouth as he clenched his hands in Ray's coat, gripping him mercilessly, holding his body against him so that he wouldn't mistake his meaning. Ben broke the kiss finally, leaving Ray gasping and clinging to him.

"Please, Ray," he groaned, kissing him again and again, using his tongue to part Ray's lips. "Please. Let's go inside. I need you."

Hearing the desperation in Ben's voice, Ray found it hard to refuse. But what surprised him, to say the least, was that they didn't race each other back to the still lighted cabin, but after carefully dousing the fire, they walked slowly through the snow, heads bowed, holding onto the other's hand. Once inside the huge bedroom, Ray pulled off his coat and after taking Ben's coat, he dropped them both over the back of the chair. He turned to Ben and began unbuttoning his outer flannel shirt and inner cotton shirt. Ben stood there in a daze watching Ray undress him and between sweet giving kisses, he sighed.

Ray drew him to the bed and they both sat down upon it. They looked at each other for a fleeting moment, before leaning in for a kiss.

Fraser kissed Ray deeply, letting his tongue rove lazily into the eager wet heat of Ray's sweet mouth. Ray moaned softly, clutching Ben's broad shoulders. He laced his fingers into his thick wavy hair. Ray loved the feel of Fraser's glossy hair and especially loved it because he'd been growing it out of the cropped rigid Mountie cut. Ray wouldn't have known Ben's hair had such an interesting secret. When it was short, his hair looked straight. But as he found out, Ben's hair maintained a stubborn wave that no amount of brushing was going to get rid of. But Ray liked it, for it gave him a very endearingly rumpled and boyish appearance. It made the normally stoic and unapproachable Mountie look more relaxed and even a bit dissolute.

Ray, although he hated to admit it, liked Ben's tousled look especially in the mornings, while he shaved over the washbowl. His outer flannel shirt would be unbuttoned and open either revealing his pale well muscled bare chest and enticingly rosy nipples or (much to Ray's disappointment) the neat clean undershirt.

But oh, his hair! Ray could content himself with that, forever. Ray pulled desperately at Ben, easily drawing him up onto the bed and he lay back beneath the Mountie's weight. He moaned in sweet surrender, twining his arms about Fraser's neck like hungry vines. He liked the sensation of being trapped and closed in beneath Fraser, for he hadn't expected the heavy warmth of the man's solid body.

Abruptly Ben pulled away, lifting his head to look down into Ray's enraptured face. Ray opened his eyes.

"What??" he asked, a little frantic that Ben may have changed his mind and was already feeling regrets.

The Mountie did nothing but smile in response.

"I'm glad you've got your strength back," he whispered. "I was wondering if I should wait until you were completely better, or until you gave me enough indication."

Ray nodded eagerly.

"Ahhh..."

Ray kissed his lips gently, slowly deepening the kiss until Ben stopped again. He sat up and held Ray upright as he stripped him of his sweater and undershirt. Ben leaned over Ray again, pressing his bare chest against his, kissing him as if sucking the very breath that kept him alive.

"I love you," he murmured, sliding his kisses down the curve of Ray's jaw and over the thunder of his pulse in the arch of his throat.

"Mmmm... Benny..." Ray moaned. "I love you too."

"Always?" Ben asked, kissing the tight stretch of skin over his collarbone.

"Yes, Benny," he hissed lacing his fingers into his dark hair again. "Always."

Ben reached down and cupped Ray's backside, spreading his legs and moving between them. Ray's erection pressed against his own and both men moaned at the contact. Ben slipped his hand between their bodies and closed it over Ray's cock. Ray arched to Ben's searching hand, and whimpered his encouragement.

"Have you done this before, Benny??" Ray asked, breathlessly, shuddering as he felt the Mountie bump his erection with his own.

"No, Ray," he answered with a sly smile as lifted his hands and cupped Ray's shoulders.

Ben regarded him intently for a moment before he spoke again.

"You don't think I just do this sort of thing with just anyone, do you?"

The jade eyes looked shyly back at him.

"I hope not, Benny," he said, his cheeks coloring.

Ben ran his fingertips over the long snaking scar that lay a little lower on Ray's shoulder and the one on his chest. Violence was prevalent in their lives, and Ray's body was marked with every occurrence because everyday they came up against it, and they fought it back into it's prison. They fought it together.

But tonight there was no violence. All he wanted to do was pleasure him, to make him forget all the things that he'd gone through in the four months. Make him forget the pain and the blood that seemed to invade his very existence. Ray didn't deserve to be hurt anymore, and Ben wasn't going to hurt him.

Ray watched Ben touch him feeling contented and happy. He wanted to say something to immortalize the moment. He wanted to draw Ben near to him, to put his arms about him and hold him. He did none of that; he just watched and waited.

"Ray..." Fraser whispered. "Ray...so beautiful..."

"Benny," he whispered looking into his eyes.

Both men sighed, and Ben leaned down to kiss Ray's forehead and then his lips.

"How do you feel?" Fraser asked interrupting the silence that had fallen between them.

"You make me feel good," he said. "You make me feel like I can do anything, like I matter in the world."

"You do matter," Ben agreed heartily, lightly touching his face with his knuckles. "You matter to me."

Ray grinned boyishly, feeling a surge of warm pleasure wash through him. And if he wasn't careful, he feared he would start crying. The look in Fraser's eyes wasn't helping him fight the tears either. It was a look of desire and love and acceptance. Acceptance, which was what mattered the most. Fraser took him as he was skinny, loudmouthed, balding, and impatient.

Ben smiled to himself and stroked his hands over Ray's bristly short hair. He wanted to take it slow, to savor everything about his lover. He kissed him and kissed him, just relishing the feel of his lips against his, relishing the heat and sweetness of his mouth. Ben held Ray's face between his hands, letting his lips brush along the soft length of his mouth. His tongue slithered out, to stroke the tender space between his pale lips.

Ben moaned softly, and he reached out to hold onto Ray. Ben closed his eyes, breathing in Ray's kiss. Heart pounding hard in his chest, he tightened his grip on the rangy cop. He could feel Ray's erection pressing against his in an unmistakable invitation. He slipped his hand down and deftly unbuttoned Ray's loose jeans.

Ray pulled back just a little, his breath escaping him. His eyes searched Fraser's, but he didn't stop him. Fraser looked so hungry and expectant, and that look scared him, yet made him hotter than he ever could have imagined. And he held his breath at the touch of those fingers, easing farther down to his stiff erection, searching and insistent.

Fraser cupped his face with his free hand and pulled him up to his kiss. Ray opened his mouth, kissing him so fiercely that their teeth scraped together. Fraser closed his hand about the hard length of Ray's cock.

The beautiful American bit back his moan, breathing hard into Fraser's mouth.

"Yea, Benny. Yea, I like that," he gasped, moving his hips a little against the stroking hand.

Ray reached up and rubbed the pad of his thumb over Ben's bottom lip. He let his lips part taking his thumb between his teeth. Ray watched him do it and giggled almost girlishly before claiming his pale mouth again. They quickly shed the rest of their clothes and found solace between the cool sheets of the welcoming bed. It was the homecoming they had long denied themselves, but weren't going to deny it much longer.

The hairs rose all over Fraser's body as he felt Ray's lips move against his skin as he talked, describing what he was going to do to him. He shuddered just a little, but enough to elicit a wicked response from the man in his arms. Ray loved to make Fraser crazy. Just the thought that he was enough to melt the frozen Canadian, to torture him with one touch, excited him and he couldn't help the giggle that escaped him.

"Like that, didn't you, Benny."

It was more of a statement of fact rather than a question.

Fraser responded immediately.

"Yes, Ray," he gasped.

Fraser held his breath, waiting to feel Ray's lips on him again, but when Ray drew away, he opened his eyes.

"You know," Ray began softly. "You never did arrest me."

"I don't understand," Ben wondered.

"I brought the gun into Canada, remember?"

"Yes Ray." Ben sounded amused. "I remember."

"Well, you said that you were gonna arrest me when we landed."

Fraser was quiet a moment.

"So I did. Well, I can only suppose that it wouldn't be fair to punish you for something as minor as that, being that that little infraction did save our lives. Mine in particular."

"Damn right it did."

"But also," Ben continued, still smiling. "I guessed you would do something like that, being that you told me Americans are as heavily armed as possible at all times."

"Yea, sure Benny. That's the truth," he laughed.

"What's the matter?" Ben asked after a moment, reaching up to cup the back of Ray's head.

Ray lifted his eyes and looked up at him. Fraser let a smile part his lips as Ray stroked his forehead with warm fingertips.

"I've been wanting to tell you something for the longest time."

"What is it Ray?" Fraser asked, shifting his head against the pillow to get a better look at him. "You can tell me anything."

Ray looked shy all of a sudden and he turned his eyes away from Fraser's.

"Tell me," Fraser pressed gently.

"Well... you know, sometimes you'd catch me talking to myself?"

Fraser grinned. "There's nothing wrong with that," he said. "We all need to sort things out and sometimes we do it aloud."

"Nah," Ray chuckled and rolled over onto his back. "It's not like that. It's just that..." Ray clasped his hands behind his head and sighed. He turned his eyes towards the twin windows and looked at the beams of morning sunlight cutting across the curtains. Why was telling Fraser this so hard? It would be easier if he just let the words rush out.

"It's just that I see my father."

He then cringed waiting for Fraser's laughter.

The Mountie lay there quietly for a moment and folded his arms across his chest. He then turned onto his side and looked squarely at him.

"The father that's dead?" Fraser asked narrowing his eyes.

He couldn't believe that Ray was suffering from the same parental invasion as he was.

"Yea, Fraser, that's the only one I got."

Fraser nodded and looked thoughtful. He then lifted his hand and rested in on Ray's cheek.

"I suspected as much," he said softly.

He traced the line of Ray's jaw with his index finger and then drew it over his lips. Ray's handsome face lit up and he smiled. He loved the look on Fraser's face. He loved the smile the Mountie gave him.

"Why?" Ray wanted to know.

"Why what, Ray?"

Fraser murmured, just quietly holding his eyes. He all of a sudden felt so close to Ray. He knew they already had so much in common, he just didn't know how much.

"Why did you suspect?"

"All those times when we were in the Territories, those times you seemed to be talking to yourself... I just guessed. And besides, I see mine too," Fraser finally admitted.

"You do??" Ray pulled back abruptly in surprise.

Fraser's eyes widened. He hoped that Ray wouldn't laugh. How could he laugh? He didn't laugh at him.

"And all those times I caught you talking to yourself, I just thought you were just a little crazy..."

Ray then chuckled. Fraser smiled. He smiled that wonderfully warm caring smile, the smile that reached all the way into his eyes.

"He would just pop up at moments when I'd least expect, or want him to," Fraser said. "I... I know he means well, but he drives me insane sometimes."

Ray said, "Benny, you ever think that it's all in your head?"

The Mountie paused, contemplating his suggestion. He'd gone over that same notion many many times in his own mind and yet was still unable to come up with an answer.

"Well... I don't know," he said softly. "Maybe I see him because... well... I always did feel partially responsible for my father's death."

Ray lifted his slender brows in surprise. He'd never heard this one before and he wondered how much guilt could a man carry around with him before he broke beneath its weight. More importantly, how far was Ben from breaking?

"Why?" he asked. "Why would you think that?"

Fraser looked away from him a moment and to the white ceiling above Ray's head.

"Well, I talked to him only a week before he was killed. I talked to him on the phone and for the life of me, I knew something was wrong, I just didn't say anything. I didn't do anything about it. If I had just packed up and went to him, maybe he would be alive today. If I hadn't been so stubborn and afraid of him, I could have helped."

"No, you wouldn't have, Benny," Ray whispered touching the bridge of that perfect nose.

"I wouldn't have?" Ben repeated looking into his eyes again.

"No," Ray smiled. "We all have our druthers. And they come up after the fact. If you'd known you he was gonna get killed, sure you would've gone. But you didn't know and you knew that your dad could take care of himself. But sometimes, things happen that are out of your hands."

"Maybe if I..."

"Maybe nothing," Ray interrupted. "Maybe if you'd gone you would be dead instead of your father."

From the look in Ben's eyes, he knew that he'd considered that option too so he added,

"And if you'd gotten killed then where would I be?"

Fraser's blue eyes softened and his wistful smile returned.

"And if you'd gotten killed, would I be able to do this?"

Ray leaned over and kissed the curve of the underside of Ben's jaw, sucked at the soft vulnerable flesh waiting for the answer. He felt the thrum of the Mountie's pulse, felt the heave of his chest. When he lifted his head, he saw Fraser shake his head and incline his head to kiss the corner of Ray's mouth. The words in Ray's throat stalled at the sweetness of the kiss. He turned his head to cover Fraser's mouth with his. Their tongues touched and Fraser' big strong arms curved around him and drew him closer. Ray gave himself over, molded himself against Fraser's solid body, and pressed himself into his heat.

Ray bared his neck as Ben bent him backwards a little leaning in to bite and kiss at the valley of his throat. Ray laced his fingers into the inky silky mass of Ben's tousled hair. Ben wanted to learn Ray's scent, wanted to be steeped in it, have it engulf him for it was one of the few scents with which he was familiar, one of the few that comforted him whenever he encountered it. It was sort of like coming home after such a long time being away and smelling all the smells that you took for granted and then missed in your absence.

Ray's scent was something he didn't want to ever be away from, something that he didn't want to miss. He didn't want to miss Ray.

Ray's soft voice against his ear brought him back to the present and back to the realization of what he was doing.

"Benny... oh Benny..." he moaned as Ben's hand slipped down to grasp Ray's stiff cock.

They fit together so perfectly, that Ray's mind didn't fight the fact he was making love with a man. Ben was a man, and the thought excited him. He liked the masculine feel of his skin, and the straight hard lines of his body. They were so different from the women he'd made love with. He loved the touch of those strong fingers, and those soft lips. The combination of the softness and the hardness of Ben sent his mind reeling. All he knew was that he loved Ben, and that's all that mattered to him.

He gave a little cry as Ben tightened his grip on him. Ben quickly hushed him, devouring his mouth with his. He liked Ray this way. He liked him with his eyes closed, his moist lips parted slightly as he whispered his name, his voice caught between a gasp and a moan. He nipped Ray's bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it gently into his mouth. He was mere heartbeats away from completely ravishing the cop right there. But he restrained himself, wanting to make it last as long as Ray could hold out. He had always been sexually attracted to Ray Vecchio and only in his dreams could he make love to him the way he wanted to. He was overwhelmed that Ray loved him, and in loving him, he wanted to make love with him.

Grateful for the opportunity, Ben proceeded to kiss his way down Ray's lean chest, licking his pale brown nipples slowly and carefully, sucking them between his teeth, biting and nipping lightly. Ray moaned a little louder than he'd intended, unable to keep in within him. He felt overwhelmed, hot from Ben's fingertips, amazed that just him being near sent him spiraling into the dark primal part of him from which he could never escape. Ben felt Ray's hips bump his belly and he pressed him down again, to keep him still.

Not yet, he thought. I'm gonna make you crazy!

Ben licked his thumb and stroked the saliva slick pad over one nipple until it stiffened beneath it as he sucked the other. Ray shuddered.

"Benny..." he sighed, breath catching in his throat.

Ben made his way down his taut belly, gently nipping and licking his flushed skin.

He's so beautiful, he thought, and he's mine. He's all mine, mine, mine.

Ben nuzzled him feeling Ray's erection throbbing against his chest. He rubbed himself up and down the moist stiff rod. Ray arched up against him, his body trembling, his mouth stretching wider over helpless whimpers. He stroked his fingers over the back of Ben's neck urging him on. Ben slid down the hard length of Ray's body, until he was able to take all of him into his mouth. Ben groaned at the heady sensation of his ready organ as it slid along the curve of his tongue to the back of his throat.

Ray cried out, his hips bucking up, thrusting the thick length of him into Ben's mouth. Then he bit down on his bottom lip and tried to relax. He didn't want to come too soon. Ben stroked his tongue up and down his erection, sucking and catching the salty precum that glistened like tiny shining droplets on the tip of his tongue.

Ray moaned again, Fraser's name slipping from his lips as if it was born to be there and he tried in vain to keep still. Ray's body arched almost violently, crying out as pleasure so intense gripped him. Ben continued to suck him mercilessly swirling his tongue over and around the swollen head curling his lips in a wet circle around his shaft. Ben lifted his head, releasing his erection. He slid his body up Ray's still trembling one and held his face just above his.

He smiled though Ray kept his eyes closed. Ben kissed his sweet mouth whispering,

"Let me hear you. I need to hear you..."

Ben closed his fingers around Ray's thick cock and began to fist him mercilessly. The new rush of sensations rocked the cop and the moan that escaped him bordered dangerously on a howl. His pleasure soon became Ben's pleasure and he worked his hand faster and faster. Ray reached up with both hands to hold Ben down into the feverish kiss until the thin membrane of his control sheared in two.

His lips tore away from Ben's unable to endure any more. Something within him snapped. His body tensed, hardening like stone, until he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. The intensity of pleasure washed all through him, blotting out all emotion, all thought, everything; everything except for feel of his lover's hand upon him. Ray's eyes rolled up in his head and all the lights exploded behind his eyes. The harsh voice ripping from his throat surprised him, but it felt good to let go like that with Ben.

And then he yelled out again, singing the praises of Benton Fraser. Everything came crashing down upon him like drowning tidal waves. His body arched off the bed and his fingers clenched about the back of Ben's neck.

The scream coming out of him seemed deafening in the quiet closeness of the cabin and his voice mingled with that of his lover's.

The blackness slowly lifted from his vision as he relaxed. Ben put his head on his heaving chest, as he came down from his own fierce orgasm.

The two of them lay there for a moment, just breathing quietly, just being together. Ben drew his cum moist hand up Ray's belly and then higher along his chest. Ray opened his eyes and looked down into Ben's face. He attempted a tired, but happy smile and watched Ben's fingers move in between his own lips.

"Want to taste you in my mouth?" he asked a cunning grin spreading over his face.

Ray took Ben's wrist in his hand and still holding his eyes deliberately sucked his cum sticky fingers. Ray grinned and then chuckled a little when Ben lowered his head to meet his kiss.

Kinky... he thought. The Mountie can be really kinky.

Ray laced his fingers into Ben's tousled hair and sighed before pulling back.

"I can't believe you did that?" he whispered.

"Did what?" Ray asked, bending his head to nibble at the base of his ear.

Ray's voice sounded hungry and almost desperate. He bit down a little hard on Ben's earlobe. Ben clenched his hands on his shoulders.

"Sucked my fingers..."

Ray merely smiled at him and continued his oral exploration of Ben's cheek and jaw.

He felt Ben chuckling against his throat, and he lifted his head to meet Ray's kiss.

Oh yes, this was so right, he thought melting into his lover's kiss once more.

In the warm darkness of the bedroom Ray opened his eyes, but did not move. He lay there allowing his sleepy mind and body to come together again. He became conscious of the slumbering body next to him and without thought, he reached out. He traced his fingertips along the soft, relaxed plane of Ben's broad shoulders. The man near him murmured something softly in his sleep.

With his heart was tripping in his chest, he flattened his palm to smooth his hand down the arch of his back. Fraser stirred just a little, going through normal movements in sleep. Ray drew the covers back to reveal Ben to the waist and moved to admire him. In the creamy moonlight, the Mountie's skin glowed a soothing pale peach color, inviting a more in depth touch. Ray pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade and then another to the base of his neck. Ben let out a soft breath into the pillow into which he had buried his face.

Ray took his hand away. How could anyone be so beautiful? He ruffled his hands through his dark hair, noticing a few of the strands were already turning silver. Ray closed his eyes imagining what Ben would look like with a shock of thick white hair. He would look beautiful, Ray concluded. Always.

He was beautiful, especially after what they did, especially after as many times as they did. Ray chuckled to himself and slipped his hands around Fraser's trim waist, to turn him onto his back. Ray bent down to kiss Fraser's mouth, letting his lips slip down to the curve of his chin. He nuzzled his throat, loving the soft scent of the man in his bed.

He smelled like winter, like evergreen trees and frozen arctic lakes. He placed a kiss to Ben's temple but when he drew back to his place in bed did he realize that Ben's eyes were open.

"You're already awake," he whispered the obvious.

"I always did like your lips," Ben confided suddenly. "Nice and... soft."

Ray kissed him gently and smiled. Their eyes met in the approaching morning light. And he wondered, why Ben was so blessed with looking so delicious, all the time.

"Are you hungry?" he asked Ray.

Fraser pushed himself upright, and started to get out of bed, but a hand held him before he kicked the covers back.

"Stay a while," Ray suggested. "I don't need to eat right this instant."

"But I..."

"C'mon Benny. Indulge me."

Fraser gazed down at him and a wicked grin parted his lips. His azure eyes glistened in the dim light. He had already made the decision that he was going to stay, he'd just wanted Ray to beg him.

"I'll do more than indulge you," he growled, pulling the slender cop beneath him.

Fraser held Ray's wrists pinned to the mattress at his sides, as he flicked his tongue over one tan nipple, laving it with the wide part of his tongue, meticulously learning its feel and smooth texture, relishing the sensations of it puckering as he sucked it between his lips.

Ray bit down on his bottom lip, trying to keep a hard rein on his rapidly fleeing control. Fraser delicately licked the other nipple, tasting and murmuring his appreciation as if he'd just discovered a new favorite flavor.

Ray shuddered, his fingers clenching desperately though he refrained from struggling against Ben too much. He knew he was a slender detective, but was deceptively strong and agile and could take down a criminal easily with a well-placed punch.

But in the back of his mind, he knew, as strong as he was Ben was far stronger. Ben lifted his head finally and looked up into Ray's jade eyes. A salacious grin slowly spread over his young face and he slid his body up along Ray's allowing the cop to feel his hard throbbing arousal through the thin blue sheet that separated them.

Ray breathed out softly as Fraser's hand found him beneath the sheet. He kept his eyes open to look up into the mischievously gleaming blue ones of the man who had just recently become his lover, his partner for the most eventful years of his life.

Ben cocked his head and hissed, "Not good enough, Ray..."

He was referring to the way too reserved sigh he'd received, so he clamped down hard with his fist.

The beautiful Italian cried out, arching up to Ben's body jagged shards of agonized pleasure shooting through his limbs. He thrust up against Ben's searching hand that had mercilessly begun to jerk him off.

"Please, Benny, Please," Ray begged, barely about to form coherent sentences as the ecstasy built to a crescendo in his already violated body.

"What? Ray?" Fraser teased, raising his head from the bruised curve of Ray's throat where he'd been sucking the tender flesh.

"Too much... I... --ah!" Ray managed to get out before Fraser clenched his hand again.

"What, Ray? Tell me what you want."

Tension mounted upon tight springs in his chest and balls. All he could think of was how he wished he'd had a mirrored ceiling to watch Ben work him over. Ray wanted to see his ecstasy mirrored from every angle. He opened his eyes, looking up into Ben's pleased face. The predatory desire flickering in his eyes pressed the right buttons inside his brain. Fraser reached up and pressed an impudently sweet kiss to Ray's ruddy parted lips. His lover tasted like heaven, all his passion, all his desire and restraint all flavoring his tongue. Ben smiled to himself. He could taste Ray's will crumbling like a sandcastle in the tide.

But it was a good thing. They were just getting started.

"Suck me, Benny... please suck me!"

Ben lifted his head, just letting his lips slide against his.

"Beg me," he growled.

"Oh God!" Ray cried.

The heat of Ben's breath on his ear made him shudder.

"Please Benny, I need you, I need it, please..."

Ray grabbed his face and kissed him, coaxing him with his lips and tongue. The Mountie had will, but he folded in the face of Ray's desire. But Ray's fingers were warm, stroking up and down the arch of his spine, rubbing through his hair and over his face and shoulders.

His smile was still a little shy and afraid but that only made him even more attractive. Ray lifted his hands and placed them on both sides of his flushed face, letting his fingers slip into his hair. He kissed him gently, playing his lips across his, murmuring his encouragement. Drawing back he then saw the expression on Fraser's face change from happy curiosity to intense lust. Fraser brought his hands up to cover Ray's and then sliding his fingers down the length of Ray's upper arms, he trapped him against the bed.

The slender cop breathed in a long deep breath, closing his eyes, feeling excited at the pressure of the man above him. Fraser slipped his hands beneath his slender body and eased his hands beneath his peachy butt. Ben slid his body up and down the length of Ray's chest and belly.

Yes, Benny, yes.

It felt so good that his eyes rolled up into his head. The pleasure burning in his chest was like agony, like fire.

"Like this, Ray?" he snarled into his ear. "You want it like this?"

Ray moaned his pleasure, gasping hard through his clenched teeth. He spread his thighs against the cool sheets.

"That's right, Benny," he whispered. "Yes, that's good!"

He closed his eyes, almost tasting the abrupt change in Fraser's attitude. He'd gone from the coax-ee to the aggressor and the sense of that excited Ray. His body jerked slightly, feeling Ben settle himself between his open thighs. His strong fingers stroked his thighs. Ray shivered, trying to catch his fleeting breath. He couldn't believe that Fraser, the man of his dreams, was going to do to him, something he could only dream of. He felt Ben's lips press against the well of his bellybutton and then one slippery finger ease into him.

He cried out, his body arching back against the invading hand.

"Ohhh, oh!" he sighed.

"Relax, Ray, relax. Let me in..."

Ray shuddered again. He would never have imagined the Mountie ever saying anything like that to him. Pleasure surged into his belly and his body arched on his own accord. Fraser opened his mouth over his stiff cock and Ray screamed. He nearly came right then. Ben let his lips slide up and down the length of him. Ray lifted his hips, thrusting into his hot sweet mouth. Ray squeezed his eyes shut, tangling his fingers into Ben's silky black hair. He panted and whimpered as Ben sucked him harder and harder, his tongue swirling about him, drawing him down into madness.

Something within him snapped and the tears streamed from his eyes. His body arched again and he yelled out Ben's name, over and over, how body arching impossibly almost painfully until he finally gave out and collapsed onto the damp sheets. He kept his eyes closed, putting his limp arms about Ben as he snuggled down against him.

"This is paradise, Ben," Ray whispered stroking his hair. "Paradise."

"Indeed," came the sated whisper.

Fraser opened his eyes and reached up to caress the back of Ray's neck. Ray was still asleep with his face pressed into the curve of Fraser's shoulder.

"Ray..." he whispered, but the cop didn't stir.

Fraser gently squeezed Ray's neck and immediately the man leapt up to his knees. Blankets and sheets went everywhere, exposing them both to the cold morning air.

"Wha-what?!" Ray stammered, blinking to clear his eyes.

Fraser watched him struggle through his early morning confusion with some amusement. Finally only when Ray came into himself, did he smile down at Ben. He carefully lowered himself again, next to the Mountie, sliding his arm securely over the flat taut plane of his stomach. Fraser rested his hand on the middle of Ray's back.

"Sorry for freaking out like that, Benny," he whispered laying his face against his chest again. "It's just been a long time since some one else was in my bed. Not used to it... yet."

Fraser traced the ridges of Ray's spine with an absent fingertip and said, "It's perfectly natural Ray, to experience some measure of disorientation when one is abruptly awakened from sleep. It is..."

"Benny..." Ray's voice was teasing and half warning.

"I should stop talking?" he asked.

"You should," replied Ray with a chuckle.

Then Fraser was quiet only for a moment before he said. "I'm sorry for waking you so suddenly. I hadn't meant to."

"S'ok Benny," Ray murmured, snuggling down against him again, before promptly falling asleep again.

When they awoke later that morning, he and Ben got dressed, and went into town. All the shops were small and family owned, but they did not lack modern conveniences. While Fraser strolled up and down the isles of a grocery mart, casually knocking items that he thought they might need into his hand basket, Ray asked for directions to the closest pay phone. He expected to have to walk a mile to get to one, but the woman who lounged behind the counter told him that there was one out back. He went to make a phone call.

When he returned, he found Ben standing with two packages of bread in his hands and reading their ingredients. He was talking to Dief, and trying to decide which one to get. As Ray came closer to him, he heard him whispering,

"...I think Ray's allergic to this, but I'm not sure if a lot or a little will upset him. What do you think?"

Dief, who sat on the floor, thumped his tail once in reply.

"I agree," Ben said with a smile. "Let's not take the chance."

He then looked up to see Ray approaching him.

"Oh, hi, Ray. We were just talking about you."

Ben then noticed the strange look on his lover's face. His eyes were wide and his lips were drawn into a tight line.

"Are you all right?" he asked cautiously, putting both packages back onto the short shelf.

"We have to go home," was all Ray said.

"Something happened, didn't it," Ben said.

"Please. We gotta go."

Ben nodded.

"O.k., Ray. We will."

He then handed to him the basket and fished about in his jacket pocket for money.

Ray looked down at the blue and pink bills he was handing to him and chuckled.

"You're giving me money?"

Ben smiled.

"I don't think they accept American funds, here," he said. "You pay for this and I'll make the arrangements."

Ray sighed and then glanced around them, and seeing that they were alone, he bravely reached out and drew Ben to him. He gently kissed his lips and smiling boyishly, he turned away.

"Thanks, Benny," Ray whispered, eternally grateful for Ben's competence and for his love.

Fraser managed to talk his way into a red eye flight back to Chicago and within two days, he and Ray were back in the states, back to the problem they'd left nearly four months ago.

Ray Vecchio: Bravest Man Alive

Ray Vecchio walked straight and tall through the bright hallways of the Chicago airport and he was sure everybody was staring and knew all about his troubles. But he ignored that and walked quickly to the outside where he hailed a cab. Ray sat close to Ben in the back seat of the taxi, holding tight to his hand. He was feeling apprehensive. From what his mother told him on the phone two days ago, that someone knew that his death had been faked, he knew he had to get back home where he belonged.

Maria was standing on the porch having a late night beer and cigarette and she screamed when she saw their taxi pull up, successfully rousing the entire house, and maybe part of the block.

The whole family clan met the two, even before they got out of the cab. Ray, buried in his mother's meaty arms, was dragged away from Fraser and to the warmth of the house. No one bothered to look in Ben's or Dief's direction. The rest of the family members followed suite, leaving him out in the cold, with Dief standing at his side. He felt left out and very ashamed that he played such a huge role in Ray's apparent disappearance. And he didn't want to perpetuate any unwelcome feelings towards him that may detract from Ray's homecoming. He retrieved Ray's single bag from the trunk, quickly brought it up to the front porch and sat it before the still open door. He went back to the cab, with Dief in tow and got in.

He gave directions to the driver.

"Sure thing," she replied and flipped up the meter.

"Whine."

"I know, Dief," he said, stroking his belly fur. "But I think Ray needs to work things out with his family, without me being there and making it more complicated. I'm quite certain that I won't be welcomed there, after what I did."

"Are you talking to me, sir?" asked the cab driver.

"No," he said. "I'm sorry. We're ready to go."

The driver pulled off into the street and turned the corner.

"Where's Benny?" Ray asked, no one in particular. "I hope he's not still standing outside."

He untangled himself from his mother and went out of the living room and to the front door. He looked down at his bag waiting for him in the threshold but then saw that Fraser was nowhere in sight. The cab was gone. Ray went onto the porch to look for him.

Shit!

He hastily went back through the house and out to the back door. He tore down the steps there and out towards the street. He knew any cabbie would take the back way to West Racine and fortunately that meant going all the way around the block, behind the house and going the way they came. Ray spotted the yellow and black rounding the corner and he dashed out into the black street to stop it.

The woman shouted a curse and slammed on her breaks when she saw the tall wild man come jumping out in front of her cab. The wheels skidded slightly on the wet pavement

Ray came to the passenger side door and pulled it open. He reached in and dragged the Mountie out.

"What are you doing??" he demanded. "Where are you going?"

Fraser blushed heatedly.

"I... I was going home," he stammered, feeling foolish.

"Why? Why are you leaving? Are you crazy?"

Ray began to smile at that and he pushed Ben aside, reached in for his pack and then said to Dief, who was sitting on the seat, looking out at them,

"C'mon, furface. Hungry?"

Dief barked once in affirmation and hopped out of the cab.

"Hey, how much do I owe you, for around the block?" Ray asked the cabbie.

"Nothing," she said.

Ray tossed her a fiver anyway.

"Thanks!" he said and shut the door.

The taxi drove off, leaving the two men standing alone in the late nighttime street.

"Benny. Don't ever do that again. Don't leave me like that, without saying anything," Ray said, venturing before God and his nosy neighbors, to touch his lover's face.

Ben inclined his cheek into Ray's hand and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ray," he murmured. "I didn't think it was appropriate for me to be in your house, after what I did. After I upset your family."

Ray understood the man's despair.

"Benny. You act like you kidnapped me and dragged me kicking and screaming up to the Territories. You didn't, remember? I asked you. I wanted to go with you. Remember?"

Ben nodded.

"Say, yes Ray," Ray instructed him.

"Yes, Ray."

Ray got that beautiful smile he was looking for.

"Good. God, what am I gonna do with you? C'mon, before Ma thinks you took off with me again," he teased, bending to pick up his pack and hoisting it on his shoulder. "And geez, don't make me run like that. I've been shot remember?"

Mindful that anyone may be watching them, Ben refrained from putting his arm about Ray as they walked back to his house.

"Yes, Ray. I remember."

Ray's family didn't shun him, well at least not to the degree that he'd expected. He and Ray had dinner alone in the darkened dining room, while Ray explained what had happened, his reasons for leaving and whatever else his mother demanded an explanation for.

While he talked, Ben suddenly excused himself and got up from the table. Without thought, Ray got up too and followed him into the front hall. He didn't want the Mountie escaping on him again.

"I thought you were staying tonight," Ray protested as Ben headed to the door to get his jacket.

"I am," he answered scooping up the keys to the Riv from the candy dish on the low hall table. He remembered leaving them there when he returned them to Ray's mother. "Dief needs his medication. He's overdue as it is, and all I'm going to do is go home and get it."

"Benny, it's been almost four months, one more night isn't gonna kill him," Ray answered selfishly.

"He's not overdue that much. I ran out when we were in Canada. Now he needs it. And one more night may kill him."

"I'll go with you then," Ray said and reached for his coat off the rack near the door.

"Ray, that's silly, and it's not necessary. I'll be right back. I promise. Stay here with your family."

"You are my family," he hissed between his teeth. "Stay with me."

Ben smiled and gave the dining room's doorway a glance.

Ray looked at him a moment and then nodded.

"O.k. I'll stay here with furface. You be careful."

Ben gave him another confident smile.

"I'll be back before you know it."

The apartment was cool, dark and dry and Fraser didn't bother turning on the overhead light. He went directly to the cabinet and pulled down the small bottle of liquid from the second shelf. He palmed it for a moment and then took down the bag of dog treats that Dief allowed him to trick him with, in order for him to get his medication.

A knock sounded on the other side of the door. Ben huffed a sigh and went to answer it.

Ben opened the door. In the threshold stood Lenore McNichol. He gaped at her in surprise. She indeed was a very beautiful woman, standing in her expensive maroon three-piece slacks suit with overcoat to match. Her smile hovered between anticipation and delight, and when she opened her mouth to speak, he immediately closed the door.

She stuck her boot between it and the door jam.

"What do you want?" he asked, letting the door swing open again.

"Hello, Constable Fraser. I'm sorry I have to do this, but..."

Out flew her hand and Ben didn't register that she'd touched him, until he felt the burning sensation right in the middle of his thigh. He looked down at where her hand had been and saw a small spot of red on the front of his jeans.

Did she poke him with a red marker? He thought and then noticed the hypodermic needle in her gloved hand.

She wiggled it at him and smiled.

"Like I said, I'm sorry that I had to do this, this way, but I need to talk and you need to listen. And you'd better lie down quick because intramuscular injections act really quickly. I don't want you crashing out right here on the floor."

She came into the flat, elbowed shut the door, took a hold of his arm and guided him back to the small twin bed. He sat down heavily upon it, and she pushed him a bit so that he lay down.

Lenore stood there, watching him for a moment before she stretched out on the bed next to him. She propped herself up on an elbow and smiled at her handy work.

"Don't worry, Benton, it won't kill you. I'm not going to tell you what I gave you, it'll only worry you, and it may get me in a lot of trouble, if you go searching around and they find out that I had access to it. So I'll just tell you, that it'll wear off in a few hours. In the mean time..."

She bounced up and down a little on the spongy mattress.

"Good sleeping material," she admired out loud. "You must have wonderful nights."

Flushed with a rush of heat, Ben closed his eyes feeling sick and dizzy and he tried hard to make himself sit up, only to find himself impotently stretched out on his own bed with Lenore staring down at him.

"Anyhow, I just came here to warn you, Benton. I mean... I don't have to do this, but I think it'll make the game much more... let's say, interesting, if you and Vecchio don't just walk into the middle of things, like two blind mice."

She reached over and stroked a single finger across his moist brow.

"I hope I didn't give you too much, Benton. I had to just guess at your weight and height, but I think I eyed you pretty well. I'll roll you over onto your side before I leave, so that if you have to vomit, you won't choke on it and die.

Anyway, I can't tell you exactly what's going to happen, but it will be something pretty heinous. And I, of course, will have nothing to do with it. I'm just the right hand woman. I stand around while everyone else does the dirty work. I boss the dirty workers. So, I... hmm, well, I guess that makes me just as culpable, doesn't it."

Ben nodded, tightening his grip on consciousness.

Lenore let her eyes crawl over his face and she leaned down very close to him. Ben could smell the faint scent of cherry on her breath, and the soft powder she wore against her skin. She inhaled him deeply and closed her eyes.

"You are beautiful, Benton," she murmured, her lips a breath away from his. "Very beautiful, for a man. But I couldn't even think about touching you sexually... it would make my skin crawl. But I wouldn't hesitate in... slitting your throat and watching you bleed all over this nice white shirt of yours. That... I would get off on."

"You're crazy," he gasped.

Lenore drew back a bit in surprised.

"I'm crazy?" she asked and then laughed gleefully. "Well... yea, probably. You know... I've been through a lot of stuff in my life, and yea... probably somewhere along the way I might have snapped..."

She laughed.

"Sick, crazy," he added spitefully.

Lenore stopped laughing and a small frown pinched her smooth forehead.

"Sick!? Now, that hurt my feelings, Benton," she said petulantly.

She leaned down to him again.

"And I don't like when people hurt my feelings. It isn't nice. Or polite. I was going to take it easy on you, Benton. I was going to make it quick. But since you said that. I think I'll take my time."

She turned her head.

"Right Dief?"

There was no answer from the apartment. Ben had left Dief with Ray because he was only going to go to the apartment for an instant and hadn't wanted to wake the wolf.

"Oh, right. You left wolfie with Ray. Not a smart move. He probably would have chewed me up by now, and I would have let him, because I would never have hurt him. I could have just blown his brains out if he attacked, but he's such a cutie cutie, that I wouldn't dare do that. So, I'm glad you didn't bring him with you. Good thing too. But anyway, back to us. You know, the first time I saw you, I wanted you.

Oh, I bet you get that all the time, as cute as you are, but I didn't want to fuck you or anything like that. I wanted to cut up your pretty face. I think that pretty men make the best victims. You want them to groan and moan while somebody beats the crap out of them. But not too much, you don't want to mess up their face. You don't think it's a coincidence that those men continued to beat the hell out of you in the PMCL bus holding because it was just business, do you?

Zuko had some pretty sick fucks working for him then, and I think cracking your skull and your ribs was something right up their alley. Held you still while one guy worked you over. Or did they take turns? Did the lead guy... oh hell, what was his name... but did he stand there and watch? And I just bet, you made the sexiest noises each time a punch landed, huh..."

Her voice trailed slightly as she imagined the scene in her head.

"But back to the matter at hand. Vecchio's going to get killed, no matter what you do to try to protect him, no matter where you take him. And it's going to be soon. I'd say, ohhh, within the week or so. Car wreck, something accidental like that. Maybe. So you should make plans, do you final forgiveness crap and all that.

"I just wanted to let you know too that I followed you that night to Mercy, and that's one of the reasons I knew Vecchio was still alive. I tapped their phone line and heard him when he made the first phone call. I knew he was up in the Territories with you, I just didn't know where. I also heard when he made the phone call two days ago. Which was why I knew the two of you were back in town. How cute is that though, the Mountie protecting the American cop. What? Are you two fucking or something? It wouldn't surprise me one bit, if you were. I mean, a friend's a friend, but I don't know how far I would go for a friend. You went pretty far.

"Oh, I didn't tell anybody about what I knew, or there would have been more people up there than the whole population of Canada looking for him. And I gotta say, Benton, a slow bleed from a bullet to the gut it a terrible way to go. And I'm pretty sure that's how they would have treated you, shot you, sat you up in a chair and made you watch them work over your friend. Vecchio... well let's just say, I can't imagine what they would have done to him. "

Lenore took in a long breath and then lay down on her back next to him. She folded her hands on her stomach and looked up at the ceiling. It looked freshly painted, a sweet creamy yellow color, which surprised her. She hadn't expected that the Mountie could see anything outside of black and white.

"Oh, well," she sighed and dug through her pants pocket for her knife. "Let's get this over with."

She sat up and took off her coat that she lay across the foot of the bed. Ben caught the gleam of the shiny blade in the street light coming off the next building and closed his eyes. Lenore noticed this and drew back. Her lips parted in a slight grin and she shifted the knife from her left hand to her right. She let her gloved fingers play along the wicked blade for an instant before she put her hand down against his face.

"Sooo beautiful," she moaned softly, pressing the tip of the knife into the soft part just below his ear. "I've wanted to do this to you for a long time."

A small shiny droplet of crimson blood appeared around the blade and she bent to catch it with the tip of her tongue. She sighed, rolling it about her taste buds. The hot stroke of her tongue on his flesh sent a shiver through him. Lenore's hand came up and laced into his dark hair. Her fingers clenched slowly and she pressed her cheek against his, angling her body over him like a lover. Ben tried hard to fight against her, but his limbs only moved sluggishly and only soft wretched whimpers escaped his lips. In his mind, he could see himself moving and pushing her away, but his hands lay limply at his sides, and his whole body was still.

"Don't fight me," she whispered, huskily, her arousal clearly evident. "Let me...do this."

Ben flinched at the steel bit into the skin of his neck, drawing a thin line of white fire across his throat. The pain was unbearable, but he couldn't scream. The slow seep of blood began to trickle down his collar and into his shirt. That blood felt both hot and cold, and her breath against his ear, made him shudder, made him feel such savage anger, that he lost himself in it. Ben felt the tingling in his hands as the drug began to wear away. Obviously she'd misjudged his height and weight.

He acted purely upon reflex and his hands came up, violently shoving her off him. Lenore squealed in surprised, and toppled entirely off the bed. Ben heard her hit the floor and he struggled to sit upright. Hot bile rushed up into the back of his throat and he gagged on the impending vomit. He clamped one hand to his throat to staunch the flow of blood and with the other he propped himself into a semi-sitting position.

He watched with growing alarm, as Lenore rose up from the floor like some crazed angel. He could see her chocolate brown eyes gleaming in the dim light and he was sure she was going to kill him then. He didn't have the strength or the control over his limbs to fight her.

Lenore glared at the Mountie, but as she gained control over herself, she smiled sweetly. She wished she had a camera for he looked amazingly saintly, sitting there like that, trying to shut off the gush of blood at his jugular, the blood running down over his hand and onto his white shirt like a river, staining it the most alarming red. She unfortunately, hadn't worked her knife into the layers of tissue to get to his jugular. She'd just been working over the surface.

Lenore reached for her coat, slowly and carefully and wiped off the knife on his bedspread. She closed it gently and stowed it in her pocket. She then shrugged on her jacket and inclined her head towards him in a reverent bow, as if thanking him for the dance.

"I'll see you again, Benton," was all she said, before she silently departed.

Ben sat there for a long time, as the feeling slowly returned to his limbs. The nausea she'd promised seized him abruptly and hastily shoving himself off the bed, he almost didn't make it to the sink.

Ray was standing on the front porch waiting for his return, getting more and more worried as the time went by.

"What the hell!" he muttered watching the green Riv pull up into the driveway.

He went down the stairs to meet Ben as he got out of the car.

"What took you so long?" he demanded, clearly agitated.

"I...I couldn't find the bottle," Ben lied, and then was suddenly angry that he couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice.

Ray stared at him in disbelief and then his face fell, because he knew Ben was lying to him. When he noticed the bandage on the Mountie's neck, he nearly hit the roof. He cornered him against the car, moving towards him, until Ben backed away and had no other place to go, but to press against the side of the car.

"What the fuck happened to you, Benny?" he growled. "And I don't want to hear no bullshit about you not finding the bottle."

Ben hung his head, shamed by his weakness at the hands of Lenore McNichol, ashamed of what had actually happened and he wished Ray wouldn't question him on it.

"Please, Ray," he mumbled, not lifting his head. "Please don't."

"Don't what, Benny! Don't fucking what?? What happened!!?"

Ray reached up and grasped Fraser's arms and all but shook the answer out of him. He couldn't decipher his feelings anymore. He was angry and upset that Ben had gotten hurt when he knew he should have insisted that he accompany him to his apartment. But it cemented the fact in his brain, that when they were apart they were much weaker and incomplete than when they were together.

Ray relented immediately, knowing he wasn't getting anywhere with the chagrined Mountie.

"Please, Benny. I love you. I only... please tell me what happened," he begged.

It took a moment, but Ben let the story spill out of him and then he waited for Ray's response. Ray stared down at the ground between them and then he took Ben by the arm.

"Come inside," he said tenderly and then put his arm protectively around him.

Ray brought him up to his bedroom and locked the door. He was going to do something ungodly in his own house; he was going to sleep with his lover and he didn't want any early morning intrusions while he would be still tangled in Ben's arms.

Too tired and worn, to protest the etiquette of their sleeping together, and to suggest that he should seek out the guestroom, Ben relinquished his control to Ray. Ray changed his own clothes, and then undressed Ben. Ray cleaned and bandaged the small ragged wound in his upper thigh, put him into spare nightclothes and lay down with him. He wrapped his arms about his lover and soothed him with soft words and kisses.

"I love you," he whispered. "And I'm going to put a stop to this."

Lenore McNichol sat in her car, breathing quietly, coming down from her enormous high. She squeezed her eyes closed, replaying the scene between she and the Mountie over an over in her head, relishing each heady moment. She could smell the Mountie's desire to kill her, could smell his anger and his pain but that only served to heighten her pleasure even more.

She picked up the phone and pressed speed dial.

"Hello?"

"Sally?"

"Hello, Lenore. You're calling back already? Hear something else from this live Vecchio?"

She chuckled.

"I believe I have let the cat out of the bag. The game's almost over, I think. So I'll be catching a flight back to Newark soon. I just wanted to let you know I'm coming back."

"What about Gliozoni?" she asked.

"What about him? I told you when I first met up with him, that I was only in if the for money. You think I had loyalty to that piece of shit? I was only doing what you told me to do."

Sally snuffled a bit and then blew her nose. Her cold was getting worse. New Jersey winters always were hell on her.

"Well, I don't know what to say," she said after a moment.

"The man couldn't even keep up in New York," Lenore said spitefully. "Thanks to your organization. Why do you think he escaped to Chicago? He couldn't handle it."

"I could have told you that, and you didn't have to go through all this playing around. You can get your ass back here to some real work for me."

"This was real work," Lenore answered, a bit miffed.

"I told you that it wasn't necessary," Sally shot back. "I told you that I didn't want you wasting your time trying to run Gliozoni out of the states. I told you that plainly and clearly. And then I get a phone call from you telling me that you're flying out to Chicago with some Zuko character. And who the fuck is in Chicago, but the man I told you to stay away from."

Silence.

"I know," she relented. "And I apologize. I meant no disrespect."

"You're lucky you're my sister, or I would have had you taken out long time ago."

"No you wouldn't have," she laughed at the old threat.

"But I had a good time," Lenore continued with a smile. "I even got to meet a Mountie."

"What the hell is a mountie?"

"They're Canadian. Mounted Police for the queen."

"A cop?"

"On horse back," she said pleased.

"So, and? He was on a horse in Chicago?"

"No, Sally. Forget it. It's a long story."

"Lenore, just... just hurry up and get back here. I don't want to hear from you anymore, unless you're coming into my office in person. Hear me?"

"Sure, sure."

Ray lay in bed the next morning, gently stroking Ben's shoulders and back over and over. Ben merely and silently gazed into Ray's hazel eyes with sleepy serenity, not wanting to get out of bed and spoil the moment between them.

"Take you to work?" Ray asked.

Ben suddenly smiled.

"I think I want more time," he answered.

"Do you need to talk to the Dragon Lady?"

"I can do that when I get back," he said, reaching up to touch Ray's forehead.

"I need to talk to Welsh," Ray told him, closing his eyes. "I guess I can't use the phones here... being that they're tapped."

"Your cellular phone?" Ben suggested.

Ray sat up in bed and stretched.

"It probably would be better if I did it face to face... so that I don't lose my job."

Ben sat up too and folded his hands in his lap. Ray reached over and took one of his hands.

"You're coming with me," he said. "I don't want you getting into trouble."

"If you think that's necessary, Ray," he said with a pleased smile.

"It's necessary, Benny. So get dressed."

It was early enough, that the whole clan wasn't awake, so he and Ben slipped out of the house without being interrogated. Ray, feeling strong enough to drive, took the car keys from Ben's hand and led him out to the driveway.

"I can't believe that she had the nerve to come to your apartment and do that shit to you!" he exclaimed once they were inside the Riv.

"It did appear that she was a bit off kilter."

"A bit? Benny, she tried to slit your throat!"

"I'm aware of that, Ray," he answered, gingerly touching the bandage on his neck.

Ray sighed.

"Well... at least she didn't," he amended. "That's good."

"So. You're back," Welsh observed as Ray and the Mountie stood in his office.

Ray sat down without being invited and relayed to Welsh what had happened to date, and hoping his explanation of why he left so suddenly wouldn't sound so improbable that Welsh would fire him on the spot.

"I won't bust your chops on this infraction, detective, being that I understand your problem."

Ray relaxed abruptly, melting back into the chair. Welsh glanced at the very tired looking Mountie and wondered what in fact had gone on between he and Ray.

Ray said, "Thank you, sir."

"But, you should not have taken off like that, Vecchio. And I have to put you on report for it," Welsh continued, shifting his eyes back to the cop.

Ray tensed.

"But that doesn't have to get filed until... whenever you decide to get on my last nerve again..."

Ray smiled.

"Now please, detective. Take the Mountie before he passes out on my floor, and take an official leave. You know where the paper work is. Make it legit this time."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I will. And thank you, sir."

Ray got up from the chair. Welsh's voice stopped him.

"We haven't found anything," he said looking angry. "Not one shred of evidence against Gliozoni."

"You know a name?" Ray asked, sitting back down in the chair. "What's the name?"

"So far, from what Elaine and Tyi have found out, James Gliozoni has bought up almost half of downtown. For what... I don't know. But it made Elaine suspicious and she went to check it out. She found that his organization is preparing for some heavy shipments of heroine. And not that old stuff you cook over the flame and shoot up with, but obviously when he was back east, they formulated a new method. Something involving putting a packet inside your jaw and letting it seep through your mouth. Like tobacco. Good enough for the upper-class who don't want track marks."

Welsh sighed and clasped his hands together on the desk. Ray could see that he was shaking and that meant that his boss was infinitely angry.

"I didn't know, sir. What's Zuko have to do with this?"

Welsh looked at Fraser who stood still leaning wearily against the door.

"Have a seat, Constable," he ordered. "You're making me nervous."

"I'm sorry, sir," Fraser said and then slid down onto the comfortable couch.

"I don't know," he said to Ray. "He's working for Gliozoni, I know that much. Why, how and what for, I don't know."

"Know anything about a Lenore McNichol?" Ray asked.

Welsh raised his brows.

"She was just in here, this morning, looking for you," he said. "She said she had some information for you."

Ray nearly laughed.

"She's got balls. I don't think I want her kind of information," he said and took a quick glance back at Fraser. "I mean. I think she's working for the head boss too. Maybe Gliozoni, maybe Zuko. I don't know. She's one twisted lady."

Welsh looked uncomfortable and his brow was pinched heavily with his deep frown.

"We're working on it," he said after a moment.

"That's all I can ask for, sir," Ray said rising again.

"C'mon, Benny," he whispered, reaching to tap his arm.

"Thank you, leftenent," Fraser said in parting as he closed the door behind him.

Ray and Fraser took the back way out to get to the parking lot behind the building where he'd parked the Riv. Ben squinted in the bright morning sunlight, and raised his hand to shield his eyes. As they approached the car, he noticed the car parked across the street from the police lot. A small figure stood outside a black two door car. The woman lounged against the sleek exterior, her arms folded and looking extremely comfortable. Fraser almost envied her ease, until he recognized who it was.

Lenore raised a hand in a little wave and gave to him a smile.

"Ray," he said hurriedly, and moved to go towards her.

Ray saw the woman and immediately went for his gun. He grabbed Fraser's arm, who then abruptly shook him off.

"Benny!" he cried. "Are you nuts?"

"I'm just going to talk to her," he said over his shoulder.

Fraser made it only halfway across the parking lot before Lenore gave a small laugh and hopped into her car. The wheels of the little black car screeched on the pavement as she made an illegal U-turn and sped off.

"Get in the car, Benny!!" Ray yelled after him when he saw the Mountie make moves to start running after her.

Fraser trotted back to the Riv and he and Ray took up pursuit.

"Maybe if we get the messenger we can get the source," Ray suggested, trying to keep up with the small black car, which surprisingly didn't seem too much in a hurry to get away.

"She wants us to keep up," Ben observed.

"Looks like it," Ray answered, running the red light. "And I think I know where she's taking us."

Frank Zuko's house loomed up in the distance at the bend of a cul-de sac. A huge mass of shiny cars with black tinted windows sat outside the house all lined up like matchbox cars along the curbs.

"Looks like they're having a party, and we're not invited," Ray commented, slowing down a bit.

His eyes scanned the surrounding houses, looking for black coated snipers and shifty eyed mobsters. The only living soul he saw was an old dog sitting out in the sun on the front porch, who didn't bother to lift his head from the pink pillow he was so contentedly sleeping on.

The little black car came to a halt in the driveway right outside the house and sat there puffing out white clouds of smoke into the cold air.

What's she waiting for? Ray thought uneasily, bring the Riv to a stop, a good fifty yard away. Who's she waiting for?

Just then the front door of the house opened and out walked Frank Zuko. In his arms were his twin two-year-old daughters, all pretty in pigtails and dresses, ready for school. He seemed surprised to see all the cars outside of his house and he stood there on the porch for a long time, just looking.

"Shit!" Ray yelled out, as the realization of what was going to happen dawned on him. "Shit! No!"

He grabbed his gun and scrambled out of the car. Fraser followed suit.

"Zuko!" he hollered running towards the house. "Get back in the house! Get in the house!!"

Frank looked at the tall detective running towards him and yelling like a loon, with his gun dancing in the air.

Time slowed down for Ray Vecchio. He could still hear himself screaming at Zuko, but his voice was slow and dragging over every word. He could still feel himself running, but it was like running through molasses. He couldn't get to the man fast enough.

I'm a cop! I'm a cop! I can't let this happen! I can't!

The doors to the shiny cars opened almost simultaneously and people started to pour out like ants on a mission. Ray could see their weapons glinting in the morning sun and he continued to scream.

"Chicago PD! Chicago PD!!"

Fraser's hands were on him then, yanking Ray back from his goal. Ray fought against the strong Mountie, battled at his hands, trying to tear passed him.

"No, Benny!" he cried. "I have to help him! They're gonna kill him!"

The black angels from their shiny cars advanced on the dumbfounded Zuko and he stood there on the porch clutching his daughters. He then opened his mouth to protest the situation. The first bullet shattered his teeth and ripped away the back of his head. Zuko stood there for an instant and his daughters began to scream. Two more bullets silenced their cries. The man's body shuddered and his arms locked about his babies, before he let them go. Their limp bodies thudded to the wood of the porch. Blood spilled down Frank Zuko's face and stained his white collar. He opened his mouth again, but his lips flopped impotently.

Beyond the approaching line of gunmen, he could see James Gliozoni smiling at him from the warm interior of the car directly in front of the house. Zuko dropped to his knees finally and put up his hands before he toppled over completely.

Ray barely registered the small black car zipping out of the driveway and towards him. He raised his gun and fired one clean shot through the back windshield. The car swerved violently and barely missed crashing into the Riv, but it didn't stop. He turned and fired again after the fleeing car. The tire blew out, but the car kept going, running on its silver rim.

"Ray!"

Fraser's voice was urgent in his ear. It was then that he noticed that Ben was shielding his body with his own, every where he turned, the Mountie was in front of him.

"Fraser," he said slowly.

Ray turned back to the house where the gunmen were already retreating to their running cars. Fraser and Ray stood in the middle of the street, dumbly watching the cars slowly drive passed them. Ray ran out to the leading car.

"Stop the car!" he yelled. "Chicago PD!"

The car didn't stop, but ran slowly enough that Ray could keep up with it. Ray brought his hand back and with the butt of his gun, he smashed the driver's window. The tempered glass spiderwebbed, but didn't break. Ray wasn't above just shooting at every window, but he knew that it was useless and the answer to that notion became more clear as the cars picked up speed emptied out of the cul-de-sac, license plates securely concealed.

Ben came up behind him and took his arm.

"Come on, Ray. Come on. Call for back up."

Ray numbly dialed the numbers and he and Ben went to see about Frank Zuko. Neighbors were already coming out of their houses to investigate the gunshots and it wasn't long before Zuko's wife came out too. She saw her husband and her children lying in death on the front porch. She stood there a long time, quietly looking down at them, long enough that as Fraser came up onto the porch, he just barely caught her falling body as she lost consciousness.

Ray looked down at Frank Zuko's dead eyes and shook his head.

"I guess..." he began and then shook his head again.

Fraser looked at him, while he cradled the woman's body in his arms.

"You guess, what?" he asked.

"I'm still alive... so he had to die," Ray said softly, feeling sick again. "He didn't do his job so they made the example outta him."

"No, Ray," Fraser said firmly. "Don't take that on your shoulders."

Ray's green eyes came up to meet his.

"Frank Zuko took this upon himself and he suffered the consequences."

"What about them? His daughters?" Ray asked, limply gesturing to them.

"Unfortunate consequences," Fraser answered.

He then sat the woman gently up against one of the porch supports and shrugged off his flannel jacket. He lay it over one of the girls, and Ray, taking his cue, took off his own jacket and covered the other. Fraser stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed softly.

"I'm glad you're all right, Ray."

"I'm not all right, Benny. O. kay? I'm not all right."

Fraser bit his bottom lip and he looked down at Zuko.

"Is it over, then?" he asked.

"Maybe," Ray answered, his voice barely audible. "It is for him anyway."

"What about Lenore?" he asked.

Ray looked at him.

"Well... I'm sure we'll see her again. She got away. She'll be back. They always come back."

The approach of black and whites drew Ray's attention and he looked out towards the street. The crowd of neighbors tentatively backed away as the police approached. Ben reached out and took Ray's arm and led him off the porch.

"There's nothing more we can do here," he said, drawing him towards the Riv.

Welsh was waiting for them by the car.

"Want to tell me what happened?" he asked and Ray explained slowly and carefully.

"I didn't get a chance to see into the cars. I don't know who did it."

"Gliozoni," Welsh guessed.

"Most likely, sir. But..."

"But... I know, detective."

He then took in a breath, letting it puff out in the cold morning air.

"Aren't you due for leave, detective?" he asked not looking at him, but out towards Zuko's house.

"Yes, sir. I am. Thank you."

Ray moved around him and got into the Riv. He and Ben rode in silence back to his house. Ray stopped right at the corner that led to his house and turned to Fraser.

"Can we go back to your place? I don't think I can face my family right now."

"Of course, Ray."

"Do you think Dief'll mind, if we leave him alone for a little while?"

Ben smiled.

"I'm sure that your family is taking good care of him right now."

Ray smiled back at him and nodded. Turning the car around, he headed to West Racine.

The apartment building was cold and quiet as the two of them walked up to the third floor apartment. Ray felt a bit exposed and cold without his jacket, wondering why there was no one coming in from or going to work at that hour. The place was silent and still. Ben led the way down the hallway and just as he reached for the doorknob, Ray intercepted his hand.

"She may be in there. And if she is, I'm going to shoot her," Ray said.

Ben pushed Ray aside and opened the door. There was no one lurking within those walls. Ray closed and locked the door behind them. He went directly to the bed and lay down upon it. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He felt the bed dip and blindly he reached out for Ben, to pull him down to him. Ray curled up to his lover and rested his head on his shoulder.

"All because he wanted to prove something," Ray murmured. "And for what? For what? It just got him killed."

Ben lifted a hand and cradled the back of Ray's head.

"Shhh..." he whispered. "It's over now. It's over."

"I don't understand," Ray continued, before his voice broke.

Ray's body started to tremble and Ben heard the tears coming. He turned completely towards Ray and put both arms about him. Ray pressed into his embrace and wept silently. He would never understand. He let out a breath into Ben's neck and tightened his arms about him.

Although he didn't understand, he was glad Ben was there for him whenever things got too overwhelming. He loved him for that, or rather, he just loved him, period. Ray planted a soft kiss on Ben's collarbone and nestled down for the long haul. He was asleep in minutes, lulled by the stroke of strong protective Canadian fingers at the back of his head.

"I love you too, Ray," whispered a voice in his ear.

"It's good to see you again."

The woman sitting at the kitchen counter, peeling lemons put down the knife and turned towards the woman who stood in the doorway.

"Hi, Sally. I'm well, thanks for asking."

Sally made a face and got up from the stool to embrace her sister.

"Done wasting time in the windy city?"

Lenore smiled slyly and took the cup of coffee her sister offered her. She sat down at the small square table in the center of the brightly lit, lemony kitchen.

"I can't say that it was a waste of time. I'm sure I got a whole lot of people into a whole lot of trouble."

"No strings?" Sally asked, going back to her peeling.

"Well..." Lenore took a sip from her cup and put it back down on the table with a light 'clunk'. "Well... I don't know."

Sally turned back towards her.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

Lenore thought of the Mountie and smiled to herself. She thought of the cop.

"I may have to go back just to cut up some loose ends."

Sally frowned.

"Leave the fucking Mountie guy alone. Jesus Christ, Lenore! Are you fucking nuts, or something?"

Lenore gave her a smile and patted the open round trip ticket to Chicago stowed in her jacket pocket.

"Not at all, Sally," she said. "Not. At. All."

End Ray Vecchio, Ice Prince of the North by mistress nona: mistress_nona@yahoo.com

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