By Amethyst
 

         Ray Kowalski, undercover as Ray Vecchio, felled his assailant after a minimal struggle then cuffed his man to the leg of a Dumpster and patted his cheek almost affectionately.
         "Don't you go anywhere now." He warned the semi-conscious man, gently, before hurrying down the alley to help his partner and friend Constable Benton Fraser.
         The Mountie had preceded him toward the back lot of the video store and had tried to take down the large tree sized man on his own.  It wasn't working to well.  The man was huge, at least six five and over three hundred pounds. Ray had been ready to jump in and help, when a second man attacked him from behind, delaying the Detective's aid.
         After quickly dispatching his suspect, Ray now turned his attention toward his partner.  The Mountie was in danger of being crushed to death by a man Ray could only dub Goliath.  Kowalski heard Fraser croak that the giant was under arrest and demanded he cease and desist, but the man ignored him and continued to squeeze the Canadian painfully in his bear like grip.
         Ray couldn't use his gun to threaten the man without the risk of accidentally shooting Fraser.  Instead, he holstered his weapon and used the hood of a parked car to launch himself onto the giant's back. The sanity of his action seemed questionable when the man stepped back and slammed him into an adjacent wall, while retaining his hold on Fraser. The blow knocked the Detective's breath from his body, but it took two more collisions with the wall before Ray finally released his hold and dropped to the hard ground below.
         Fraser, trying every possible defensive maneuver he could think of, watched helplessly as his friend slid down the wall. The Mounties's feet were no longer touching the ground and the hands that held him were immobile and imperious to pain. His head started to swim, his eyes losing their focus as he fought for much needed oxygen, sure he could hear the breaking of his own bones from the vice grip the brute had on him.
         Ray, ignoring the painful throbbing of his body, pounced again.  He wrapped his arms around the man's huge neck, and tried for a chokehold, but he may as well have been trying to crush concrete. In a desperate attempt to get his partner free, Ray, remembering how much it had hurt when a suspect had done a similar deed to him sank his teeth into the man's ear.
         Goliath roared in startled agony and dropped the semi-conscious Mountie to reach behind with enormous hands and pull the slim Detective over him. Fraser, attempting to regain his lost oxygen, watched horrified as his partner bounced violently against the hood of the parked car.
         Ray felt the impact all the way through to his teeth and he heard a loud pop as the windshield gave beneath him. He narrowly missed the hulking hands that plunged toward him again, as he rolled across the hood of the vehicle.  He landed painfully on his left knee beside the tire on the passenger side.
         Before Ray could catch his breath or even attempt to rise again, the giant loomed over him and wrapped a meaty fist around the Detective's jacket collar. Pain shot through his injured leg as he was yanked upward, but ignoring it, he leveled his good knee into the man's groin. His eyes widened when that only increased the man's rage and the massive paw squeezing his throat abruptly cut off Ray's air supply. Fighting back the darkness that threatened to claim him, Ray managed to glance at Fraser, who was now crawling to his feet behind the giant.
         Their eyes met in silent communication and seconds later Ray slammed his forehead against the giant's, as they were both knocked sideways by Fraser. Masking his own assault with Ray's surprise attack, the Mountie put everything he had into the tackle. The force of his attack drove the giant against the wall and allowed Ray to escape his assailant's grip. The Detective rolled to his feet beside his partner and pulled his gun, finally achieving a clean field of fire.  He was done fighting with this bastard, it was time to get serious.
         "On yer knees!" Ray croaked.  He was desperately trying to hide the pain he was in and the dizziness he was currently feeling.  "I ain't playin', I'll shoot ya dead before we go fer round two."
         The man simply stared at him for a long moment, before slowly dropping to one knee. Ray glared at him with a mistrust that had served him well as a cop.  The thin blonde, unaware that his nose had started to bleed, ordered the man to lay down all the way.  Fraser quickly offered his partner a handkerchief as the sounds of sirens echoed a short distance away.
         Suddenly Fraser heard the unmistakable click of a rifle bolt closing and immediately turned back to warn his partner. Goliath launched himself at the Detective, just as Ray spun around and fired toward the rooftop. Perhaps due to his dizziness or lack of glasses, Kowalski missed, but Goliath didn't.
          Fraser heard two shots.  Ray's had missed it's target, but because of the giant's sudden charge, the blond was thrown violently against the wall as the bigger man took the gunman's hit.
         Fraser moved quickly towards his partner, as the Duck Boys arrived.  The Mountie managed to catch hold of Ray as he slowly slid down the wall a second time. Ray's weapon slipped from his fingers as Hewy and Dewey moved to check on the giant who was slumped near by.  Two uniformed police officers seized the rooftop assailant from above.
         "F...Frase?" Ray whimpered painfully as the Mountie wrapped strong arms around his friend, a barrier from the hard, cold ground. "Oh...Oh God, Frase..."
         "It will be all right, Ray." Fraser assured reaching behind Ray to cradle his friend's injured head. He was appalled when his hand returned covered in blood. "You'll be fine."
         "D...did we get 'em, Buddy?" Ray gasped shivering both from the adrenaline high and the pain he was feeling. "Did...did we beat da giant?"
         "We did indeed, Ray." Fraser assured; wishing the ambulance would hurry up and arrive.  He used his handkerchief to apply pressure to the back of Ray's head, trying to stem the blood flowing from the Detective's wounds. "Stay awake for me, Ray."  The Detective had taken a number of blows to the head and Fraser was worried about his friend slipping into a coma.
          His breathing labored and fighting to keep his eyes open and not lose consciousness, Kowalski still managed a rebellious grin for his partner.
         "Da bigger dey are..." He began, then paused as he struggled to remember the rest of the phrase. "Da harder I fall." Fraser's lips twitched at his friend's joke then held Ray tighter as he stiffened. "Aaahhhh...I'm cold Fraser...ya ship me to...Canada when I wasn't lookin? I think I'm...d...dyin'." Fraser knew keeping up the pressure to Ray's head was more important, but he wished he could release his friend long enough to shrug out of his tunic and use it to cover his partner.
        "No, Ray." He refused to think it was that serious.  He simply couldn't lose Ray now; not after all they had been through. "You'll be fine." Ray managed another smile.
         "You...Yer a mess, Buddy," he teased and Fraser returned his smile tolerantly.  He imagined he was quite the sight, having lost his hat at some point and his usually impeccably neat uniform now badly wrinkled from his struggle with the giant. He was also quite dirty from laying on the filthy parking lot. Ray was practically covered in glass, blood, and the dust of the concrete buildings he had been bounced against.
         "You aren't looking so orderly yourself, Ray, my friend, " he returned and Ray made a sound that was between a sigh and a giggle.
         "Ya still f...find me attractive, Frase?" he asked and Fraser nodded as his eyes left Ray's for a moment to observe the arrival of the ambulance.
         "Of course, Ray." He assured returning his gaze to his friend's again, witness to the pain he saw in the blue-green depths.
         "My head...split...hurts..." Ray whispered.
        Fraser nodded sympathetically as the paramedics hurried over with a stretcher. He had remembered seeing Kowalski's head, strike once off the car and at least twice, possibly more off the wall, not to mention his courageous and foolhardy attempt at head-butting the giant. Ray started to panic when they placed him on the stretcher and he reached out blindly for Fraser's hand. Fraser touched their palms together and wrapped his fingers around Ray's firmly, walking with him as the paramedics rolled his partner toward the ambulance.
          "P...Partner's still, buddy?" Ray murmured deliriously. "O...One two...duet...fer keeps?"
         "Yes, Ray," he assured. "Partners forever."
 

         Ray awoke to find himself in a brightly-lit ICU room with an intensely throbbing headache.  The soreness all over his body left him almost breathless. It felt as though weights pressed heavily against his eyelids as he attempted to force them open a second time. Turning his aching head toward the saline drip that hung from the wire hook above him he followed the tube down to the IV needle in his left arm. He blinked a few times as it registered that he was in a hospital.
         He turned his head back the other way and noticed a tall, dark haired man, dressed in what looked like some sort of red doorman's outfit, staring out the small window of the room. From his profile, Ray guessed the stranger was probably quite handsome and he briefly wondered who the man was, but exhaustion got the better of him and his eyes drifted closed again.
         Inhaling deeply, Ray realized that he felt much better.  As his eyes opened they drifted toward the small beeping heart monitor at the side of the bed and followed the wired electrodes back to his chest. He absently pulled them off and tossed them aside. He hated hospitals and although he had no idea why he was here, they couldn't make him stay if he was set against it.
         The tall stranger had disappeared and Ray wondered if he had dreamed him. Turning his head back toward the glass partition that separated his room from the main corridor outside, he saw the stranger in red talking to a doctor. The man stood so perfectly erect and stationary, he reminded Ray of the Nutcracker Prince, especially in that fancy red costume. He looked away again; deciding that perhaps it was just someone who worked in the hospital as a volunteer or some sort of circus act for the kids or something. Maybe the man had nothing better to do and had just stepped into Ray's room on a whim.
         He started to sit up, then gasped at the fire that ripped through his chest and left leg.  Pulling back the covers, he found he was naked but for the itchy white hospital sheets that covered him. Carefully lifting them, he inspected the large welting bruises across his left knee and upper thigh.  The matching bruises that covered his torso disappeared under the white bandage that encased his ribcage.   Damn, did he lose a fight with a moving truck or what?
         Sitting upright proved a greater task then he had expected, as nausea attacked his stomach.  The pain in his head and body only seemed to increase.  Raising his free hand to his bandaged head, he wondered what had happened to him and why he was here. He tried to get his eyes to focus properly.  He finally managed to swing his legs over the side, carefully keeping his modesty covered with the sheets. He stared down at his bare feet, just a few inches above the dull tiled floor, but it may as well be fifty feet for all Ray could distinguish.
         Suddenly, the door to his room opened, and a young nurse rushed forward. She immediately settled him back into bed and scolded him for having moved from it. Ray allowed her to fuss over him, too weak to stop her. The room seemed suddenly chilly and he was actually relieved when she pulled the thin covers back over him.
         "Detective Vecchio," she admonished, hovering as she checked his pulse. "You have to lay still, now. I'll go fetch the doctor right away, don't you move."
         Ray watched her leave, wondering why she had addressed him wrong. Of course he may have heard her incorrectly.  There was a strange roaring in his ears and the room seemed to be spinning erratically around him. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, hoping that would quell some of the nausea he was still experiencing, but the intense throbbing of his battered body forced them to reopen.  He seemed trapped in a surreal space of discomfort and disconnection overlaid against a backdrop of pain.
          He thought about his folks and where they might be.  They weren't with him in the room, but did they know he was here?  Stella's name was on his insurance card as next of kin, but they might have trouble reaching her if she was in class.
         "Detective Vecchio," the doctor greeted amiably, as he entered.
          Ray recognized him as the same young man he had seen speaking with the Nutcracker Prince and he stared at him in confusion.  That was twice someone had called him by the wrong name, maybe it wasn't his roaring ears after all.
         "I think ya got da wrong room, Doc," he finally decided, before continuing. "My name's Kowalski, Ray Kowalski." The doctor frowned and checked the chart he carried.
         "It says here that you are Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department."  He insisted.  Ray gaped at him incredulously, then started to laugh.  He stopped abruptly when it caused his head to pound more ferociously.
         "Ya definitely got da wrong guy, Doc," he chuckled, "I'm an Architecture student." His eyes moved briefly past the doctor to see the man in red approaching. "Ray!" The Nutcracker Prince exclaimed delighted, as he moved closer to the blond. "You're awake!"
         "No shit Sherlock." Ray grunted.  The thin blonde eyed him warily, as the man continued to regard him happily. "What was yer first clue, da open eyes or words comin' outta my mouth?"
         "Ah." The stranger smiled amiably. "I see having just awakened, you are your usual cheerful self this morning." Ray regarded him curiously.
         "Do I know you, Sir?" he demanded, unable to understand why the Nutcracker Prince should know anything about what he was like in the mornings or any other time. "Do you teach one of my classes or somethin'?."
         "Classes, Ray?" the stranger frowned. "I...I am afraid I do not understand what you mean. It's me, Ray. Fraser." Ray returned his gaze blankly. "I am your partner, Ray." A light seemed to go on inside the Detective's head.
         "Oh, sure," He agreed finally. "Ya must be...um...dat new teaching assistant from Germany, thought ya talked kinda funny. I didn't think we were startin' on dat project until after spring break.  I don't even have my notes ready yet and I don't think Barry does either but..."
         "Ray," Fraser frowned again. "I do not understand what you are talking about. What project?"
         "Ya know da project for Professor Niles, da guy replacin' you at yer school fer dat exchange thingy. We gotta construct a model..." Ray broke off and scowled. "Waitaminuite, if yer...what are you doin' here, if I'm in da hospital..."
         "Detective..." the doctor began and Ray shot him an angry look.
         "Stop callin' me dat!" he snapped. "I told'ja my name's Ray, Ray Kowalski. Why am I here anyway? Where are my folks and..."
         "Mr. Kowalski." The doctor amended quickly, sensing his patient's agitation. "Do you not recognize this man." He indicated Fraser and Ray shrugged.
         "No, didn't I just say dat? Am I still speakin' English here?"
         "Ray, I am not from Germany, I am from Canada." Fraser informed, hoping that his partner's confusion was only temporary.
         "We got an exchange program wit Canada?" Ray inquired, as he closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. "My head hurts Doc."
         "I'll see if I can get you something for it." The physician promised as he whispered something to Fraser, who cast the blond a worried look. "First however I would like to ask you some standard questions."
         "Okay." Ray sighed.  He kept his eyes closed, as it seemed to help his light-headedness.
         "Do you know what day this is?"
         "Tuesday." Ray replied calmly and the doctor nodded in satisfaction.
         "Can you tell me today's date, please?" He watched as Ray opened his eyes briefly, then closed them again in concentration.
         "Um...it's....ah... hmmm." He looked at the doctor perplexed.  "Dunno, but I think it's like March or somethin'." The Doctor's face remained passive.
         "What year is this?" he inquired.
         "Ya don't got a calendar, Doc?" Ray retorted, but the Doctor just waited patiently for his answer. "1985."
            The thin blonde's gaze flew towards Fraser at the Mounties's gasp and then returned to meet the Doctor's startled gaze. "Did I fail da test?"
            He had meant it as a joke but judging from the solemn expressions of his visitors, something was terribly wrong. "What's goin' on Doc? How did I get here? Have my folks been called, or my wife? Why aren't dey here?"
         "Your parents are in the cafeteria, Ray." Fraser assured quietly. "I will go and fetch them if you like."
         "What about Stella?" Ray demanded, as an anxious, unpleasant feeling crept its way into his heart. "Where's Stella? Where's my wife?"
         "We will try to locate her, Mr. Kowalski." The doctor assured as he and Fraser took their leave.
          A couple of hours later, Stella Kowalski entered the private hospital room that her ex-husband had been moved to. She had just spent the last thirty minutes speaking with the Kowalski's, Fraser and Doctor Jordan.  She was now battling a flood of emotions about Ray's condition. Stella had gone white with shock when they announced it was Amnesia. What a truly frightening word, especially when applied to someone you loved and cared about.
         You often hear the misfortune of people suffering from Cancer, Aids, or Altzhimers, all well-known diseases that you could define and sometimes identify and sympathize with. Although there was a certain stigma to such tragic afflictions and as distressing as this might be, there were certain ways one might be expected to handle such news. Amnesia, however, is a disease that could not be handled with experimental drugs or regular visits to a doctor's office.
         According to Dr. Jordan, Stella learned that very little is really known about what causes the affliction and there is no cure, other then time and patience. Some people have their memory return within days, but for others it takes years.  And then there are those that never recapture all they've lost at all. It is as though someone flipped a switch inside the brain and erased days, months, even years from their memory.  Even the simplest detail, like where you went to school, or what your name might be, is gone forever. The doctor warned her that many have a difficult time dealing with amnesia victims, because they just can't comprehend someone not remembering things they should know.
         Barbara Kowalski was half-hysterical and couldn't be trusted to see her son until she could calm down. Damien didn't know what to say to his son, so for the moment, he also stayed away.  Because Ray didn't remember Fraser at all, they all agreed that Stella should be the one to speak to Ray first.  Perhaps she could soften the blow of things to come.
         Stella had refused at first, especially when she learned that Ray still believed they were married.  She realized though, that she couldn't turn her back on the man she loved, regardless of their separation. She could only imagine how frightened and confused Ray would be once she informed him that he had forgotten almost twelve years of his life.
         Stepping up to the bed she glanced down at her brave and handsome hero.  Impulsively she reached to catch a stray lock of his autonomous hair and push it away from his eyes. She would always love him.  He would always love her.  And they would both always share the regret that their love was not strong enough to keep them together. Now Ray had no memory of their fighting or of them growing apart and he probably thought they were still practically newlyweds.  All of which caused Stella further guilt.
         "Hey," Ray greeted, his eyes opening at her touch.  He offered her a heart-warming smile. "I missed ya."
         Stella, drawn to kiss him, allowed herself to be pulled down to meet his lips.  She cursed the familiar way their mouths fused together and yet sighed at the wonderful taste that was uniquely Ray's. Not wanting to aggravate his fractured ribs, she pulled away and watched the familiar expression of euphoria over come him.
         "Ray..." she began firmly, trying to distance herself, so she could tell him what she needed to.  But as his fingers lifted to caress her shortened golden bob she found herself moving automatically into his touch.
         "Ya cut yer hair," he murmured, casting her a smoldering gaze hot enough to melt concrete. "I like it, makes ya look all grown up."
         She blushed, both in pleasure and despair.  This was not going to be easy. Trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart, she schooled her features and searched for the words to begin. Ray continued to smile at her in that special way that always turned her legs to Jell-O and her brain to mush.
         God how she missed that smile.  The way his eyes shimmered magically beneath those long lashes that Stella had always envied.  He always seemed to regard her as though she was a long lost treasure that had, at last been uncovered.  When things got bad and they had started to argue constantly, she found herself hating that look.  It made her feel so vulnerable and it seemed her only defense was to become more hurtful towards him.
         "Ray, you have to listen to me." She finally managed, pulling away and trying to restore her usual reserved demeanor. "I am all grown up, that is...so are you." He watched her confused. "Ray, there was an accident and you were hurt."
         "Thus da trip to da hospital." Ray retorted with a slight grin, then he frowned again. "Dey won't tell me what's goin' on Stell, what's happened?"
         "Ray," she began.  "You were hurt and you suffered a head injury." Ray nodded, as he folded his fingers with hers, his eyes falling on her bare ring finger.
         "Where are yer rings, Stell?" he demanded and she glanced down reluctantly at her left hand, watching Ray's callused thumb caress her ring finger puzzled. She bit her lower lip and raised her eyes to his again; all she could do was tell the truth.
         "Ray, honey..." she tried again. "You were hurt and..."
         "Ya didn't loose dem did'ja?" he inquired anxiously, still on the subject of her missing rings. "I haven't even finished payin' fer 'em yet, babe."
         "Ray this isn't 1985!" Stella blurted frustrated. "It's the year 1998. You have amnesia and..." Ray regarded her suspiciously but then grinned.
         "Okay, I was off by a month, April fools, ya got me, Stell." He chuckled. "I guess I did get da date wrong I..."
         "Ray I'm serious," she insisted firmly. "You have a head injury and you regressed thirteen years."
         "Com'ahn Stell, quit teasin' me." Ray requested, as knots formed in his stomach. It was bad enough that he was in the hospital, he really didn't need her making fun of him too.
         "Sweetheart I'm not teasing you." She denied adamantly and stood to give him a better view of her.         "Look at me, Ray. Really look at me, don't I look different? Older?" Ray cast her a bewildered look.
         "Ya look beautiful as always, Stell," Ray replied automatically. "I told'ja I like yer hair, it suits ya."
         Stella groaned in disbelief.  Was he really so blinded by his love for her that he could not see the difference between the slim, long-haired unsophisticated girl she once was and the woman she had become?
         "Ray I am not twenty two anymore." She declared reluctantly.  She was not eager to be reminded of her age but what choice did she have? "I'm thirty five." Ray gaped at her, then started to laugh nervously.  But behind the forced smile she could see the clouded apprehension in his haunted blue-green eyes.
         "D...Dat's no good Stell." He tried to joke, attempting to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. "If you were thirty four dat would make me..." There was only a year and a half difference in their ages, and Ray couldn't comprehend that he was that old.
         "Thirty six in three weeks, Ray." Stella finished, pulling out a compact from her purse and showing him his reflection.
         Ray stared at the image before him, startled at the similarities he recognized, but also frightened by the differences evident in his older, wiser and stronger looking features. He couldn't help reaching up to touch his own face with shaking fingers.  The reflection was truly real, and when it mimicked his movement his fearful and chaotic gaze met Stella's over the mirror.
         "W...what's goin' on, Stell?" he asked softly, sounding much like the young boy Stella had first met so long ago.  She settled on the bed next to him, searching for the words to explain.
         "You have amnesia, Ray." She stated a second time. "You have pieces missing from your past," She watched his expression change from confusion to horror and she was quick to assure him. "It will be okay. The doctors said it will come back."
         "W...where's Mum?" he demanded. "W...who's dat guy who was here? From Canada, he said he was my partner?"
         "He is your partner, Ray." Stella confirmed gently.
         "Partner in what?" Ray appealed, his voice rising in distress. Stella wet her lips discreetly.  It was best to just be honest.
         "Ray, you are a Detective with the Chicago Police Department." She stated. "Fraser is your partner, he's a Mountie."
         "A...A Mountie from Canada?" Ray repeated bewildered. "A...are we in Canada, Stell? Is dat why he's here?"
         "No honey we're still in Chicago," Stella assured. "Fraser is also your best friend, Ray."
         "My best friend is Joe Thomas, Stell." Ray denied anxiously, determined to be sure about something in the chaos that now surrounded him. "Me an' him are buddies fer  life."
         "You and Joe haven't spoken in over ten years, Ray," Stella explained, "you had a falling out and..."
         "Over what?" Ray demanded his voice was growing more hysterical with each question and Stella realized she would have to call the nurse to sedate him. "Joe's been my friend since kindergarten, we always fight but we..."
         "I don't remember what it was about, Ray." she dismissed, wanting to change the subject before Ray became too excited.  She had not meant to cause him more confusion. "Why don't you try and rest, Ray..."
         "Where are yer rings, Stella?" he demanded, reaching for Stella's hand and gripping her fingers tightly in his. His face was deathly pale, a mask of fear and doubt, and Stella found herself unable to meet his penetrating gaze. "Where are yer rings? What else has changed?" His rising voice carried into the corridor, prompting a nurse to rush in.
         "I'm having them cleaned, Ray." Stella found herself saying, unable to stand the torment in her ex-husband's face, as the nurse gave them both a disapproving stare.
         Ray crumpled into her arms and tried to quell his rising panic as his body trembled against hers. She wrapped her arms around him, as the nurse left to find the doctor.  Stella gently rocked him back and forth.
         "Thank God!" he croaked as she held him to her. "Oh God, I thought...I thought..."
         "Ssssh, lover," She crooned, "it will be okay, Ray. I'm here and everything will be okay."
         "Never leave me Stell." He murmured against her as the nurse returned with a sedative. Ray pulled away from her and further into Stella's embrace. "Don't."
         "Let her give you the shot, Ray." Stella requested gently. "It will help you sleep." He shook his head adamantly.
         "I'm okay I don't need it." His voice had calmed dramatically, so Stella convinced the nurse to leave her husband be for the moment. The nurse frowned but wandered back to her station, leaving them alone in the room once more.
         "Love you, Stell." He whispered and Stella was encouraged by the sudden limpness of his body against hers; thankful he would settle down on his own. She suspected the confusion and excitement had worn him out.
         "Lay back and try to rest, Ray." She suggested and he leaned back against the pillows, but maintained his hold on her hand.
         "Head hurts." He moaned, though the rest of his body was no picnic, his head seemed the worst.  Stella
nodded sympathetically, smoothing the hair from his temple and caressing his cheek.
         "I know love, but they can't give you anything for it because you have a concussion," she explained. "Just try to sleep now, Ray."
         "Stay wit me, Stell?" he pleaded, his eyes still fearful, even as they fought to remain open. "I...I don't understand what's happenin' but if yer wit me I'll be okay."
         "I'll be here lover." She assured, amazed at how easy it was to slip back into the tenderness they once shared. "You sleep and I'll be right here beside you."
         Ray moved over on the bed invitingly and she smiled at his intent, before kicking off her shoes and curling beside him. It was against hospital procedure but she didn't care right now.  Her main concern was to calm him, protocol be damned. She almost laughed at her own thoughts; usually she was a stickler for rules.  It had been one of the things she and Ray fought most about, her unwillingness to be impulsive or go against the norm.
         "Don't wanna go to sleep." He murmured as she curled into him and lay her head on his chest, allowing him to wrap his good arm around her comfortably. "Wanna make love." She smiled and ran her hand lovingly across his chest.
         "You always wanna make love." She teased.
         Ray had always been insatiable when it came to her.  He had definitely been good for her ego all those years ago. She didn't consider herself a troll or anything, but she found it both flattering and a little scary at how much Ray always desired her.  He never seemed bored with her, even after their divorce. The sex was always good between them, even when everything else had fallen apart.  Making love with Ray always brought her to heights no other man could rival.
         "Only wit you, baby." He replied, his voice becoming softer, as sleep started to win the battle. "Only ever want you."
         "I know." She sighed. Unfortunately for her ex-husband, that much had not changed. She rubbed his chest soothingly until he drifted into an uneasy sleep.
 

         Ray's dreams, filled with flashing moments of past and present, made up a distorted jumble of reality and fantasy in a world where he recognized nothing and fear ruled his every thought. The one thing that calmed him through it all was the knowledge that when he awoke Stella still loved him.  He could get through anything as long as they were together.
         His eyes finally popped open a couple of hours later, though he felt as though he had been asleep for a week or more. He smirked, or years apparently, since it seemed he had missed so much. He simply couldn't comprehend that he could not remember the last thirteen years.  It was all intensely bizarre. He felt like he was in an episode of the Twilight Zone and any moment someone would yell cut and everything would revert back to normal. Perhaps any minute someone would jump out and yell 'You're on Candid Camera' and a studio audience would start laughing.
         However, nothing remotely like that happened.  Ray was left with the realization that this was indeed happening to him and was forced to deal with the horror of his situation. This was real and he felt trapped in a world he now knew so little about.
         The next thought that entered his mind was one that he was sure everyone suffering some sort of disability or trauma must ask, why me? He had lost his memory, not completely mind you and for that, he was grateful, but now there was blank space where memories should be.
         He still had twenty-two years to his credit, most of which he could recall quite clearly, so that was something, right? It wasn't as though he woke up not knowing who he was, or worse with sever brain damage.  He was grateful that he had not been turned into a breathing vegetable, but the whole idea of having amnesia still scared him.
         He had still to learn the facts about his accident.  He imagined it could probably have been a lot worse. Stella said he was a police officer.  Did his accident possibly involve criminal activity? Had he been shot or wounded trying to apprehend a suspect? A Detective they said, with the Chicago PD and he had a Mountie for a partner. How messed up was that? Yet he had always dreamed of being a cop someday and it now appeared as if he had made it.
         Shaking his head at the insanity of it all, he immediately regretted it as the dull throbbing reminder of his injuries turned into an incessant pounding. He gritted his teeth and glanced toward the window, where Fraser and an older woman stood, speaking quietly. A Mountie from Canada, Stella had claimed, his partner and his friend.
         The sudden guilt of not remembering the man he had dubbed the Nutcracker Prince caused him to lower his eyes in shame, but not before the woman turned toward him. Seeing he was awake, she rushed over and threw her arms around him.
         "Stanley!" she cried, kissing his cheek tenderly, even as he stared at her in shock.
         "M...Mum?" he croaked in despair and disbelief.
         She looked so...so old. So tired and frail, nothing like the smiling, rosy-cheeked woman he remembered as his mother. Her once robust frame had thinned dramatically, her eyes and cheekbones were decidedly more hollow against noticeably paler skin, and her beautiful blond hair, so much like Ray's own, had turned almost white. Her childlike hands, still soft as silk as they cradled his face, were spotted and crippled with age and arthritis.
         "Mum's here now, baby," she murmured, pulling him for another embrace. "Everything will be okay now."
         Ray swallowed his grief and as much as he was able, returned her embrace. She still smelled and felt the same, yet she was so much different then the mother he remembered. The sight of her older appearance drove home to Ray the awful reality he had been unwilling to grasp before.
         "I love you Mum," He whispered.
          His voice conveyed a dozen different things at once; confusion, fear, anger, and sympathy. His eyes seemed to plead for forgiveness at not protecting her better against the fate age had brought to her.
         "I love you, my sweet, sweet boy." She returned softly, blinking back her tears.  She had to be strong for her Stanley. She pulled back and offered him a brave smile. "Dad's in the coffee shop with Stella, they'll be up here again soon. How are you feeling?  Do you want something to eat? Would you like to sit up?  The bed moves as you like and..."
         "I'm fine, Mum." He told her with a small grin. Yep, she was definitely his mother. She stopped fussing and indicated Fraser, beckoning the Mountie to join them.
         "Stanley, this is your friend, Benton." She introduced and Fraser offered his hand politely.
         "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police." He greeted as Ray shook his hand.
         "Dat's a mouthful." Ray commented, awkwardly and quickly retracted his hand. "Um...how ya doin', Sir?" Fraser tried not to show his surprise at Ray's suddenly impeccable manners.
         "I am fine, Ray." Fraser replied. "It is your health that concerns me. How is your headache? Shall I go for a doctor?"
         "No. No, thank you." Ray quickly refused, then to his mother. "I just wanna go home, Mum. Can ya get Stella ta take me outta here."
         His mother clucked in concern.  She tried to fluff his pillow and make him more comfortable, only to have Ray patiently push her hands away and readjust the pillow to where it was.
         "Stanley, they're still running tests," she protested. "They can't just toss you back out into the world without proper..."
         "I don't wanna be here!" he declared, his voice rising again in agitation, "I just wanna go home. I don't..."
         "Ray." Fraser's voice had an amazingly calming effect on him, which truly surprised Ray. "We know you are not fond of hospitals, but you must stay until they have had time to check you properly. If you cooperate you will be released that much sooner."
         "One of us will be here at all times, honey." Barbara promised, trying to sooth her son. "We won't leave you alone for a moment or..."
         "Mum don't coddle me I ain't a child!" Ray snapped. "I just don't like hospitals, is all.  I'm not a baby fer chri..."
         "Then stop acting like it." Stella demanded entering the room, Damien Kowalski close behind her. "Calm down or they'll have to sedate you." Ray shook his head miserably.  Barbara moved aside, so Stella could fold him into her embrace.
         "I...I'm sorry I just...I...I don't know what's goin' on, Stell." He croaked. "I feel like I'm loosin' my mind."
         "You'll be okay," Stella soothed. "Your memory will return in a few days. You just have to be patient."
         "Not his strongest virtue." Damien remarked as he stepped up to place a hand on his son's shoulders. Fraser noticed Ray's barely hidden despair at his father's aged appearance, much like his reaction to Barbara.  The blond quickly masked his features and sat up straighter and away from Stella. "How ya doin' son?"
         "I've been better, Dad." Ray returned quietly and Damien chuckled.
         "Yer a fighter.  You'll get through dis little set back just fine."
         "Yes, Sir." Ray returned. "I...where's Baba?  Does she know I'm here?"
          Stella and the Kowalski's exchanged a disturbed glance at the mention of Ray's beloved grandmother. Ray had always doted on the older woman, who didn't speak a word of English.  She had stubbornly refused to learn since Ray so often was willing to be her interpreter.
         "Son..." Damien began, trying to find the words to explain without causing his son more pain and confusion.
         "She's gone, Ray." Stella finished for her ex-father-in-law. "She died a little over four years ago."
          Ray's face turned chalk white as he stared at her in disbelief.  Glancing at his parents for conformation, he rapidly started to blink at the sudden moisture in his eyes. He started to hyperventilate, even as he released a cry of anguish that he could no longer contain.
          Oh God! Oh God not Baba! She was going to live forever.  She was the only one who ever understood him.  She was the one person who made him feel special.  The person who... He shook his head and curled his hands into fists, rubbing his knuckles against his temples as he began rocking back and forth.  This was a reaction that Fraser had seen many times. The Mountie had always suspected it was one of Ray's coping mechanisms for stressful situations and now he was sure of it.  Fraser watched helplessly as Ray's tears overflowed and spilled down his cheeks
         Damien Kowalski had turned away from his son, trying to hide his own tears, as both Stella and Barbara rubbed Ray's back.  They both tried to soothe him with tender words. They hated that he had to relive the death of a woman he had treasured so deeply, considering how difficult it had been for him to get past his grief the first time.
         Finally, the women's ministrations not helping his son's despair, Damien settled on the bed.  He put his arms around his youngest son and cradling his face against his chest, as he had when Ray was a child, began to whisper a prayer that his mother had taught him. After the first couple of lines, Ray quieted.  He wiped at his tears, but remained in his Father's embrace. Finally, he added his voice to Damien's, the foreign language rolling easily off his tongue.  Fraser couldn't help but be impressed by how beautiful the Polish prayer sounded.
         When they finished, Barbara noticed that Ray's eyes were growing heavy and she motioned to Stella and Fraser that they leave the two men alone. Damien watched them leave as he started humming a lullaby.  Ray was already half asleep. His Father continued to gently rock his son back and forth in his arms, until he was sure Ray was gone to the world.  He then carefully laid his son back and covered him with the thin sheets. He bent to kiss Ray's cheek, briefly touching the bandage that covered his son's head.
         "It's all right, son," he whispered.  He gently wiped the remaining tears from Ray's face, before taking a swipe at his own. "Baba's gone, but we're still here and we love you just as much as she did."
 

         Two days later, Ray's memory still had not returned.  When Stella learned that the hospital was ready to release him, she decided she had to tell him the truth. His injuries were not severe enough to keep him admitted.  His body simply needed time to heal, as did his memory.  As hard as it would be to face him with it she couldn't continue with the farce that they were still married.
 She knew Ray was expecting to go home with her to their apartment, a place that no longer existed.  She also knew that she couldn't very well take him back to where she lived now. Torn between wanting to protect him and needing to tell him the truth, she found honesty was really her only option. She was sure, if she tried to keep up the farce it would only hurt him more when he did find out the truth. They led separate lives now and that couldn't be changed simply because Ray had lost his memory.
         "You can't tell him!" Barbara Kowalski refused when Stella met them on the way to Ray's room that morning. "It will kill him!"
         "Ray is stronger than you think, Mum." Stella insisted. "He'll find out sooner or later and I would rather he hear it from me."
         "It's too soon." Damien protested. "Doesn't he have enough ta deal with for Christ's sake?"
         "Please, Stella," Barbara pleaded, "wait awhile, see if..."
         "Mum I can't!" Stella denied. "I only went along with it at all because he was so hurt and confused. He understands this isn't 1986 and that things have changed."
         "How can you be so cruel?" Damien charged. "Didn't ya do enough damage da first time? Do you want to see him suffer through yer divorce a second time? I thought you loved Raymond, but ya don't, yer such a heartless little bi...!"
         "Damien!" Barbara warned.  She turned back to Stella again as they approached Ray's room. "There has to be some other way."
         "I do love Ray," Stella confirmed, flashing Damien an angry glance, yet understanding his frustration. "If there was another way to do this you know that I would, but there isn't. I can't bring him back to live with me.  There would be too many questions and he'd just be more confused. Sooner or later my neighbors or someone would let it slip and I'd rather he hear it from me then a stranger."
         "You can't tell Raymond, damnit!" Damien exclaimed just as Ray and Fraser stepped out of the hospital room.
         Holding his partner's few belongings; Fraser walked beside Ray as the Detective limped along.  Ray had refused to be discharged in a wheelchair and couldn't use the crutches they had offered because of his ribs, so they had offered him a small cane for added support. His still bandaged head would remain so for another few days, to assure the wounds would heal properly.
         "Tell me what, Dad?" he asked.  His eyes lit up at the sight of them. He smiled and leaned down to kiss Stella tenderly and she allowed it, avoiding the Kowalski's accusing gaze. "Hi sweetheart."
         "Ray, I...I have to talk to you." She insisted and gently grabbed his arm to lead him back to the hospital room. Barbara and Damien exchanged a mournful glance.
         "Oh, Damien," she sobbed, turning to her husband for comfort.
         "May I ask..." Fraser began hesitantly as the door of Ray's room closed quietly.
         "Stella's gonna tell Raymond dey're no longer married." Damien stated gruffly and Fraser cast another look toward where his friend had gone.
         "Oh dear," he murmured regretfully.
 

         "Tell me what, Stell." Ray asked, as he tossed his cane on the bed and pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck lovingly. "God you smell good."
          Fighting the temptation to just melt in his arms and let him do as he would with her, Stella tried to remain rigid.
         "Ray..." she licked her lips, as his mouth traced a tender trail of kisses along her collarbone. What was she saying? Oh yes. "Ray, you have amnesia."
         "So dey tell me." He murmured, continuing his quest up the side of her jawbone.
         "Yes, well you..." She lost her train of thought again as his lips caressed both her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead and nose. "You...you..."
         Their lips finally met and she was lost. She wrapped her arms around him.  Enjoying the familiar feel of their bodies moving together, she sighed in delight as their tongues found each other at last. It had been so long since they...She broke away suddenly, realizing why it had been so long.  Ray looked at her, startled.
         "What's wrong, Baby?" he asked softly as Stella automatically put more distance between them.
         "Ray just...just shut up and listen." She demanded.  It sounded harsher than she had intended and she had to lower her eyes from his wounded expression.
         "Okay Stell." He returned meekly, leaning back against the bed to take some of the pressure off his leg.  The position only made him appear more vulnerable.
         "Ray...a...a lot has changed." Stella began quietly, moving to peer out the window, unable to face him with what she had to say. "You...you dropped out of school and...you became a cop, a very good cop. You...you're very close to Fraser, he's your best friend." She paused to allow that to sink in, waiting to see if he would comment.  But as usual, once she told him to be quiet he remained silent in deference to her wishes. "We...you and I have changed as well. Things...things are different between us now and...and it's very hard to say this but..."
         "Yer rings." He commented, quietly.  She turned back toward him in surprise.
         "W...what?"
         "Yer rings." He repeated and she could hear the anguish in his voice, despite his stony expression. "Yer not wearin' yer wedding rings and..." he held up his left hand forlornly. "Neither am I." She watched him swallow convulsively as he wrapped his arms around himself protectively and stared at the floor. "Dey're not gettin' cleaned, are dey, Stell?"
         "I...n...no Ray." She managed huskily, surprised at the sudden tremor in her voice and the moisture in her eyes.
         She knew this was hurting him, but there was no other way.  She remembered the first time that she had told him she wanted a divorce. It was like reliving the whole awful scene all over again.  She had seen the utter desolation and defeat in his posture, the pain mirrored in his eyes, despite his attempts to hide them. Now as then it was as though the inner-light that she always admired most about him flickered and died like a candle's flame doused by a strong wind.
         "We...we're not...we got..." He bit his lip and shook his head.  He couldn't even force the hated words past his lips.
         "I'm sorry, Ray." She whispered, as he continued to stare at the floor. His arms had unfolded to grip the rail of the bed behind him.  Stella wondered if it was to help keep him upright, for she also felt week in the knees now.
         "Did...was I a bad husband?"
         "No!" she assured quickly. "You were a wonderful husband, Ray. We just...we just didn't see eye to eye on some things and it...we could no longer stay together."
         "What things?" he asked quietly.
         "I...different things, Ray," she managed, hesitantly. "I...I was working a lot and so were you.  We...we hardly had time for each other let alone...you...you wanted children and I...I just wasn't...I felt we should wait."
         "So...no...no kids." He confirmed tonelessly and she nodded, sadly. "No kids, no...no wife and no...no marriage, is...is dat what yer tellin' me Stell?" His voice no longer hid his distress as Stella wiped at tears she could no longer contain. "I've lost everything I care about and I...all I got now is a job I don't remember and a Mountie, who I don't know fer a partner, and a freakin' head injury! Is dat about it, Stell? Is dat da lot?"
         "Ray, Please..." she began stepping toward him.  He flinched away.
         "Don't touch me!" he snarled as he grabbed his cane and threw open the door. "Don't come near me, Stella." He bit back a sob and shook his head. "I wish to God I had never woken up. I wish ya had let me die."
         Stella hid her face in her hands, as Ray limped out of the room. Angrily wiping his face free of tears, he made his way toward his folks and the Mountie.
         "Stanley..." his mother automatically moved to embrace him, but he pulled away, avoiding her hurt expression by casting his gaze toward Fraser.
         "What was yer name again, Sir?"
         The Mountie found it difficult to have his friend continue to call him Sir.  This was a side of Ray that Fraser had never seen.  Obviously, when he was still a young man, he adhered to the manners his parents had taught him. Perhaps being a cop had been what had hardened him.  Though Ray had often been kind and polite to senior citizens and women, he was more often crude and impatient when it came to dealing with most people. Fraser had been conditioning himself to accept the fact that Ray would still be thinking he was only in his twenties.  He sadly realized that it wasn't going to be a hardship, for although in age the partner's were only a year apart the Mountie suddenly felt much his senior.
         "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal..." he began and was only mildly surprised that the blond cut him off, impatiently.
         "Yah, okay, Constable Fraser ..."
         "Oh well, er... you usually just call me Fraser, or Frase, Ray." Fraser replied slightly disconcerted hearing his title on his friend's lips.
         "Fine, Fraser, den.  Ya know where I live, Fraser?"
         "Yes, Ray."
         "Good, can...would you take me home?" Ray requested his brief slip forgotten and his manners intact once more.  The Mountie nodded.
         "Certainly, Ray." He agreed as his friend leaned down to kiss his mother's cheek automatically.
         "I'll see ya later, Mum." He promised, again pulling back before she could hug him. "Would you guys sign me out or whatever?" They nodded.
         "We'll drop by this evening, Raymond." His father offered and Ray nodded, then started slowly down the hall with Fraser.
          Stella Kowalski finally emerged from the hospital room, all evidence of her tears washed away and replaced by fresh makeup.  Her expression however held a misery that mirrored her ex-husbands. The Kowalski's deliberately turned away from her and moved toward the nurse's desk to check any additional paperwork on their son.
 

         Fraser led Ray to the GTO that he had retrieved from Ray's apartment lot and watched the detective's eyes light up in wonder.
         "Dis is yer car?" he demanded surprised. "Me and Dad are rebuildin' a GTO fer..."
         "It is the car you and your father rebuilt, Ray." Fraser assured as Ray circled the car reverently, appreciating the detail and high sheen polished paint job. "He gave it to you a few months ago."
         "Dad...he gave me the GTO?" Ray could hardly believe it, this was his Father's prized possession, next to his Mum of course. He gingerly lifted the hood and peered inside to inspect the engine. "Dis was his baby. He...we worked day and night on 'er, scrounging parts and...I can't believe he gave it ta me."
         "I suppose that speaks well for what your Father thinks of you then, Ray." Fraser offered kindly.  Ray closed the hood and opened the driver's side door, settling in the seat to give the interior a good once over.
         "Dis is incredible!" Ray was like a kid in a candy store, his eyes the size of saucers as he checked everything out. "It hardly looks da same at all." He started to lean across the leather seats to examine the dash and floorboards, then winced as the movement put unwanted pressure on his ribs and injured knee.
         "Careful, Ray." Fraser admonished, watching his partner grimace and sit back up.
         "Keep fergettin'." He mused, just as something warm and moist tickled his ear. He swatted at it automatically then turned to face the grinning beast seated behind him. "Holy Shit!" He scrambled out of the car so quickly that he landed hard on his tailbone.  Fraser rushed to assist him. "Dat's a wolf!"
         "Calm down, Ray." Fraser encouraged.  Diefenbaker had already leapt from the vehicle and thrown himself at his favorite American, licking him profusely.
         "Help! He's tryin' ta eat me, Fraser!" Ray cried, the near hysteria evident in his voice.  As the thin blonde tried to shield his face from the wolf, Fraser pulled Diefenbaker away.
         "No Ray. He isn't trying to eat you, he is just very glad to see you." Fraser denied as he leaned down to speak directly to the wolf. "Diefenbaker, you should be ashamed of yourself. I explained that Ray does not remember you and now you've scared him." Diefenbaker lowered his eyes contritely and sat down next to Fraser forlornly.
         "G...glad?" Ray managed nervously as Fraser offered him a hand up off the ground, allowing the Detective to lean on him for support of his injured leg.
         "He is sorry for scaring you, Ray." The Mountie offered as he helped steady his partner who skittered around the wolf toward the car again.
         "Y...you have a pet wolf?" he asked startled, not liking the way the animal was still staring at him like he was the next meal on the menu. "Ya can't have a cat or dog or somethin' normal?"
         "Diefenbaker is not my pet, Ray," Fraser corrected, "he is my companion and refuses to think of himself as a mere pet.  But he is our friend."
         "O...our?" Ray repeated slowly and Fraser nodded.
         "Diefenbaker is very fond of you, Ray."
         "Um...okay, er...sure." the blond muttered. "Why's he lookin' at me like dat?"
         "He wishes to accompany us to your apartment, Ray," Fraser explained. "However he feels bad about frightening you before and is awaiting your forgiveness."
         "My forgiveness?" Ray repeated startled. "He's a wolf, Fraser. A wild animal, doin' I guess what wild animals do.  Why should it matter if I forgive him or not?"
         "He is very sensitive to your feelings, Ray." Fraser explained. "He will not go somewhere he is not wanted." Ray continued to glance nervously at the wolf, which truly did look remorseful, for a wolf anyway.
         "Um...okay he...he can come, I guess." He finally agreed and watched the wolf's ears perk up. "Just...just tell 'em ta, y'know...lay off on da lickin' part til...well til I know 'em better."
         He couldn't believe he was referring to the wolf like a real person.  Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought. However, when the animal bounded past him into the car and curled up in the back seat he couldn't help smiling.
         "Would you like to drive, Ray?" Fraser suggested handing his partner the keys. It is your car after all." Ray took the keys gratefully; at least he still remembered how to drive.
         Fraser walked around and settled in the passenger side as Ray moved behind the wheel, carefully positioning his left leg away from his right. He took a few deep calming breaths then pushed the key into the ignition and listened wondrously to the soft purr of the engine.
         "Fantastic," he murmured to himself. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, as Fraser watched Ray trace the steering wheel with his long fingers. Finally, he cast Fraser a shy look. "Um...where are we goin'?" Fraser cursed his own stupidity.
         "Forgive me, Ray." He requested contritely.  Ray noticed with amazement that the Mountie and the wolf shared a common expression. "Turn right out of the parking lot and I shall direct you."
 

         A short time later, Fraser inserted the key to Ray's apartment and pushed the door open, stepping back to allow the Detective to precede him. Instead of charging in as he usually did, Diefenbaker waited until Ray had hesitantly stepped across the threshold.  This was his home, but Ray suddenly realized that he hated feeling so insecure and wary of everything now.
         "Welcome home, Ray," Fraser offered kindly, closing the door firmly behind them as Diefenbaker bounded for the sofa.
         Ray still hadn't moved from the hallway next to the kitchen.  He was leaning heavily on his cane, favoring his bad leg, and Fraser was forced to move around him.  "Right, so allow me to show you around." The Mountie offered. "This is the kitchen, where you spend the least amount of your time, I suspect." Ray awarded him a shy smile, and followed the Canadian through. Fraser was glad his teasing had worked, and quickly took advantage of the breakthrough. "This is your dining area, again another place wanton of use as we usually eat in front of the television."
         "We?" Ray countered confused.
         "You and I often share a meal, Ray." Fraser explained as the detective absently ran his hand over the glass tabletop. "We work odd hours when on a case and usually we just eat together here.  Most often it is takeout as neither of us show any culinary talents in the kitchen." Ray nodded.  That made sense, if they were partners and friends, he supposed they did spend time together outside work.
         "We...um...hang out a lot den?"
         "Yes, we are together quite often."
         "So you...ah...ya like me, den I guess."
         "I like you very much, Ray." Fraser admitted.
         He understood his friend's need for answers to quell his insecurities.  This new Ray seemed so much more timid then the excitable and brash detective he had come to know. Of course, none of this could be easy on him.  Fraser could fully comprehend Ray's uneasiness. The Mountie had always wondered what Ray had been like as a young man.  Since the detective had seemed to revert to those youthful years it now appeared he would find out.
         Ray nodded and limped into the living area, absently moving to scratch Diefenbaker's ears as he passed the sofa.  Fraser wondered if the Detective was even aware of the automatic response. Ray recognized the coffee table, which had been his Baba's.  There was an orange chair, his desk from school and his bike hanging on the wall.  Judging from the dust that dulled the chrome wheels, it would appear he didn't use it much anymore. The only other things that he recognized were a couple of pictures of his folks and one of him and Stella, but that was about it.
         The Mountie sadly watched the mixed emotions flickering across his friend's confused features.
        "This is your turtle, Stew, Ray." Fraser stated, moving toward the aquarium.  Ray seemed to return from wherever it was he had drifted off to and moved to crouch next to the glass.
         "Stew?" he grinned.
         "A private joke between you and your Father I believe." Fraser explained. "I have never understood it myself but, there you are." Ray stood, unsteadily and Fraser immediately moved to assist him. Ray shied away from him, quickly found his bearings, and propped his cane against the glass.  He opened the lid of the aquarium and lifted the turtle out, inspecting it fondly.
         "I like turtles." he commented as he traced the markings on the animal's back.
         "Yes I know." Fraser smiled indulgently. "You like them very much." Ray scowled and shot him a suspicious look.
         "Know everything about me, do ya?" he challenged and Fraser's smile faltered.
         "Of course not, Ray." He denied. "However we have spent a good deal of time together and we have come to know certain things..."
         "It's okay." Ray sighed letting Fraser off the hook. "I suppose I get dat, just...takes gettin' used to. I never had a lot of friends and..." Ray changed the subject quickly and Fraser lost whatever his friend was about to say. "Ya know why I like turtles?" Fraser shook his head.
         "No, Ray," he replied, "but I would be interested if you care to tell me."
         "Ya ever here da story of da Tortoise and da Hare."
         "Why yes, Ray," Fraser confirmed. "I read it when I was a boy.  My grandparents were librarians, well known throughout the Territories and so I had a wide variety of literature to choose from..."
         "Fraser?"
         "Yes Ray?"
         "Ya talk a lot don't ya?"
         "You have made that observation before, Ray." Fraser replied wryly and Ray smiled. "Forgive me for going on.  Do continue with your story." Ray shrugged and placed Stew back into the aquarium and closed the lid.
         "It was my favorite story growin' up." He explained as he continued to watch the turtle crawl over to rest half inside his water dish. "My Mum used ta read it to me all da time and I used ta read it ta Baba, because she didn't know any English. Dad taught me the words I needed so I could tell her da story in Polish.   I just sorta picked up da rest bein' around her a lot I guess." He shook off the sudden sadness that engulfed him and continued. "Anyway, she used ta say I was like da turtle, ya know 'slow and steady wins da race'." He smirked. "I wasn't da brightest kid growin' up, had a real hard time concentratin' and gettin' my work done so I had to work twice as hard as everyone else."
         "ADD." Fraser commented to himself and Ray glanced back at him.
         "Huh?"
         "Attention Deficit Disorder." Fraser supplied readily. "Physicians and Psychologists claim it has been affecting children for years and they are only now starting to recognize it."
         "You sayin' I got some kinda disease, Fraser?" Ray challenged and Fraser quickly shook his head.
         "Not at all, Ray. ADD affects over a third of the children in the world.  It usually refers to a chemical imbalance in the brain that makes concentration or processing information more difficult for some.  It's very similar to dyslexia."
         "Hmmm," Ray replied. "I dunno about dat AD...T whatever crap, Dad said it was just cause I was stupid and not tryin' hard enough."
         "You are not stupid, Ray," Fraser denied firmly. "You are one of the most intelligent people I know." Ray smirked.
         "Yah, sure.  Dat's why I'm gonna need a pocket dictionary ta figure out what da hell yer sayin' half da time." He shook his head. "You must be some kinda genius or somethin'."
         "A good vocabulary has nothing to do with a person's intelligence, Ray." Fraser informed, mentally reminding himself to try to be more flexible in his language.  There was no sense in confusing Ray more than he already was.
         "Um...yah, so...I'm kinda tired, Fraser." He commented, retrieving his cane and trying to forget about the current aches in his leg and ribcage.
         "Oh!" Fraser exclaimed chagrinned. "Of course, Ray. Please forgive me, your bedroom is through there."
          "Everyone in Canada as polite as you, Fraser?"
         "I would like to think so, but truthfully it is a remote possibility, Ray." The Mountie sighed.
         Ray tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment, considering the Mounties's words.  He then moved slowly through the open door to the bedroom, wincing slightly as he settled on the bed. Bracing his cane against the nightstand, he started to pull his legs up. Fraser moved quickly to help, but Ray waved him away.
         "I'm not an invalid." He snapped and Fraser pulled away contritely and struck a stationary pose. The Detective certainly had the right to be a little grumpy considering everything that had happened in the last few days, so Fraser didn't allow his friend's anger to affect him.  He was surprised though when Ray quickly apologized. "I...I'm sorry I don't mean ta snap I just..." he shrugged. "I like doin' things on my own."
         Fraser nodded in understanding, still a little curious about the change in his friend over the last couple of days. Certainly Ray was the first to admit he was wrong about things that were important, but he rarely apologized for his remarks. According to his partner, Ray never knew what was going to come out of his mouth anyway so why apologize for it.  Fraser had always accepted that.
         "Would you like something for the pain, Ray?" he suggested and Ray shook his head.
         "I'm just tired." He murmured.  His eyes started to drift closed, only to pop open again almost immediately. "Um...I...ya can go now, Fraser.  I'll be okay alone."
         "Certainly, Ray," Fraser agreed. "I need to take Diefenbaker for a walk and when we return perhaps we..."
         "Do ya live here too, Fraser?" Ray questioned suddenly.  Fraser shook his head.
         "No, Ray, this is your apartment.  I live at the Canadian Consulate."
         "Den ya don't gotta baby-sit me." The detective growled. "Go do...whatever Mounties's do here in Chicago." After a moment's hesitation Fraser moved over to the bed and sat next to his partner.
         "I am doing just that, Ray." He stated quietly. "This particular Mountie is doing exactly what he usually does; spending time with his partner."
         Ray's gaze locked with his for a long intense moment. Maybe he had more than he thought when he confirmed his new life with Stella. A vision of them embracing filtered through his memory and he tilted his head curiously.  The Mountie didn't seem the touchy-feely type.  Despite his obvious concern he seemed awfully stiff and remote.
         "I'll be okay." He assured softly, touched by either the memory or the Canadian's earnest expression.
         "I am sure you will be." Fraser confirmed without hesitation. "However you...you are my friend, whether you remember that friendship or not. I cannot just stop caring about you, Ray. I will not intrude on your privacy or ask you to do anything you do not wish to do, but you should not be alone during this confusing time."
         "I...I guess we must be pretty good buddies, huh?" he found himself asking and despite the small smile Fraser allowed him, he caught the sadness in the Mounties's eyes at their current circumstance.
         "We are more than just friends, Ray." He offered kindly. "We are partners."
         "We're not...um...we ain't like...datin' or anythin' are we?" He was pretty sure he was still strictly heterosexual but with everything else changing, especially his divorce from Stella, he couldn't be positive of anything anymore.
         "Oh no, Ray," Fraser replied, distressed that Ray would be so concerned. "Nothing like that, we are just very good friends.  I assure you, there is nothing sexual between us." Ray relaxed slightly.
         "Okay just...um...checkin'. I...I mean I had a friend in college dat was gay and he...well him and his...guy knew each other real well...obviously...like...I guess like you seem ta know me and...." Ray grimaced as he realized he was making no sense whatsoever. " W...what I'm tryin' ta say is...well I 'm pretty sure I only like women, y'know but...well a...a lot has changed. I don't know as much as I thought anymore. "
         "Understood." Fraser returned, equally relieved.  Ray was grateful the Mountie had caught on.  He wasn't sure if he wanted to try explaining that again.
        "Ray?"
         "Hmmm?"
         "May Diefenbaker and I return then, to stay with you?" Ray hesitated then nodded shyly.
        "Excellent." Fraser rose from the bed. "Perhaps you should take a nap or reacquaint yourself with the apartment if you prefer..."
         "I...I think I'll just stay here fer now, Buddy." Ray decided, addressing Fraser in the familiar term without being fully aware of it.  He watched curiously as the happiness spread across the Mounties's usually passive features.
         "Very good, Ray." He agreed. "Dief and I will return shortly and I shall pick up something for lunch.  How would that be?"
         "Sure, Fraser." Ray agreed. "Whatever." The Mountie nodded with pleasure and went to fetch Diefenbaker.
 

         Ray had just started to drift off when a rising panic rose within him and forced his eyes open once more. He'd had a problem sleeping the past couple of days, ever since he first work up in the hospital really. He couldn't seem to get past his irrational fear that if he actually allowed himself to sleep deeply he would wake up and not remember anything at all, not even his own name. It was silly, he understood that, but he couldn't help feeling it just the same.
         Releasing a soft groan, he slowly sat up, cradling his sore ribs.  He sat on the edge of the bed trying to catch his breath. He felt worse now than he had at the hospital.  It seemed like whenever he lay down it hurt twice as badly when he tried to move again. His body was one giant throbbing ache and he finally understood why some people compared their injuries to being run over by a truck.
         He pulled open the drawer of the nightstand next to him, curious to see what was inside.  It felt like he was snooping, but that couldn't be right.  How could he snoop through his own things? So what if he didn't remember they were his, that didn't make looking wrong. He rummaged idly through the miscellaneous junk inside: a couple of paperbacks, some matchbooks, half a dozen different business cards and a familiar looking ring box.
         Reaching for the box with a trembling hand, he pulled it from the drawer.  He lifted the lid to stare down at the simple gold band that was his wedding ring. After a long pause, he pulled it from the box and slipped the ring on his finger.  It made him feel better, not so naked. Stella had said they were no longer together, but he still felt married and he couldn't change that.
         Tossing the box back inside, he shut the drawer, and turned his attention to the cabinet below. It was locked and he remembered the keys Fraser had given him to drive the car.  The Mountie must have taken them with him, because they weren't in Ray's pocket anymore.
         His attention was drawn to the decoration hanging in the window, some sort of round wooden thing with a feather hanging from it. It was kind of pretty, but not exactly his thing.  He stood carefully, grabbed his cane and limped back out to the living room, stopping by the desk to look over the photographs sitting atop it. There was a very nice one of him and the Mountie, although Ray couldn't tell where it had been taken, a couple of his folks and one of his Grandmother.  Another picture was of him and Stella. He was wearing a policeman's uniform, perhaps his graduation from the academy?
         Reaching for it, he stared at it long and hard, trying to see himself as the cop in the picture.  He couldn't. Sure, he'd always thought about being a cop, ever since that deal in the bank with Ellery, but he never really considered it an attainable goal. He used to joke with Stella, since she was going to be a lawyer, that they would make a good team.  But his Father wanted him to go to college and get a degree and so he had. Well, apparently he changed his mind at some point and achieved the courage he needed to chase his dream.  He couldn't help but wondered how his Father had felt about him dropping out of school.
         Suddenly the full scope of what he was forced to deal with hit him and he started shaking violently. The photograph slipped from his trembling hands and landed face down on the carpet, but luckily didn't break. He frantically searched for the bathroom as nausea welled up inside him and threatened to claim his last remnants of control. He barely made it to the commode before he started vomiting.
         A few minutes later, his head pounding like a jack hammer and his ribs protesting painfully from their heaving workout, he rose on shaky legs and reached to pull open the medicine cabinet above the sink.  He searched frantically for a bottle of aspirin, spilling half the contents in the ceramic basin below, as he squinted against the pain of his head and tried to read the bottles of medication.
         "Advil?" he growled, his eyes refusing to focus enough to read more than the large script on one of the bottles. "What da hell is dat?" The bottle joined the others, as he continued his search.
         Groaning and putting a hand to his aching head, which was steadily growing worse, he stumbled back into the bedroom. He knew that the doctor had prescribed something for his pain and that Fraser had picked it up at the pharmacy, so he might find something in the kitchen. He limped toward the door of the bedroom.  His head and leg were on fire and he knew immediately that he would never make it that far.  He tried for the bed instead.  Maybe if he could lay down again he.... His legs gave way just out of reach of the bed and he dropped painfully on his bad knee. He cried out in agony and reached for his throbbing leg.
         The pain in his head suddenly intensified, causing him to forget about his injured knee.  He felt like his skull was trying to split in six different directions at once. As he curled into a fetal position his hands moved up to grip his head tightly.  Maybe he could somehow stop the brain explosion that he was sure would be next.
         "Christ!" he whimpered, as hot salty tears spilled out from under tightly shut eyelids. "Oh God, Stell! Why aren't ya here wit me.. why...?" Another anguished cry tore from his throat, as thousands of lights exploded behind his lids, threatening to pop his eyes from their sockets in a silent torture of pressure and pain. Curling into an even tighter ball, he attempted to shut himself away from the pain. "Mum! Dad! Someone... please help me! Fraser!"
 

         Fraser entered Ray's apartment a little over an hour later and set the pizza on the counter. Diefenbaker trotted inside and searched for Ray, as his Canadian pack mate pulled off his coat and draped it over the kitchen chair, dropping his Stetson on the table.
         A soft whine from Ray's bedroom caught Fraser's attention and he hurried to investigate, shocked to find his partner curled up on the floor unconscious. The Mountie immediately knelt beside him and checked for a pulse, which thankfully was steady and strong beneath his fingers. He regarded the tear marks on Ray's face and his friend's erratic breathing
         Fraser carefully hefted his friend into his arms and placed him on the bed, cursing himself for having left him. Ray's left knee was swelling badly beneath the rough denim of his jeans, despite the wrap around it.  Fraser knew he would have to tend to it quickly. He gently shook his friend and tried to awaken him.
         "Ray? Ray? Ray!"
         "Uuuhhh." Ray groaned and his eyes fluttered open, then squeezed shut again in remembrance of the pain he had felt earlier. Luckily passing out must have helped somewhat because his headache was down to a 3.2 on the Richter scale instead of the solid five he had experienced earlier.
         "Ray, are you all right?" Fraser demanded. "Talk to me, Ray. What happened?"
         "Head...hurts." Was all Ray could manage. "N...no aspirin."
         "The doctor recommended Ibuprofen, Ray." Fraser replied moving from the bed. "I'll fetch it for you."
         " 'kay." Ray agreed weakly, still keeping his eyes closed for the moment.  The room seemed to move less that way.
         A minute later Fraser returned and helped Ray sit up and take the two tablets with some water. The detective recognized the bottle of Advil that he had passed up and groaned.
         "Saw dem," he croaked weakly, "didn't know what dey were fer."
         Fraser frowned sympathetically, remembering the mess of toiletries and medicines he'd found in the bathroom sink.  It struck him hard to realize that his partner would not even remember something as simple as a brand name medicine if it had become available after 1985. He hoped Ray's memory did return or he would have a very long, hard road of catching up.
         "I am so sorry I left you, Ray." He offered kindly.  He gently pushed his partner back against the cushions and set the glass on the night table.
          Ray's eyes had opened only briefly while taking the medicine but Fraser could see that his pupils were dilated and reflected his pain.  Fraser also noticed the shiny gold band that now resided on Ray's left ring finger, but refrained from commenting.  For now whatever the detective felt comfortable with was what was most important.
         Moving his hands to grasp the button of Ray's jeans he was startled when Ray's eyes popped open and he promptly slapped the Mounties's hand away.
         "What are ya doin'?" he demanded, still slightly dazed from his earlier attack. "Thought ya said we weren't..."
         "Your knee is swelling, Ray," Fraser stated calmly. "We have to get these tight clothes off you so I can apply some ice to your knee."
         "Oh." Ray returned and tried to sit up and assist, but his dizziness prevented his fingers from grasping the button of his jeans properly.
         "Allow me, Ray." Fraser offered, brushing his hand away and unfastening the denims.
         He rose and moved lower, so he could carefully pull the jeans off.  Ray tried to help by lifting his hips, but the movement only put added pressure on his throbbing knee causing him to cry out.  Fraser managed to get the jeans off without hurting his friend further and carefully started to unroll the ace bandage.
         "Ahhh!" Ray hissed, as his body tensed in an effort to deal with the pain the motion was causing.
         "Just a moment longer, Ray." Fraser soothed and quickly removed the bandage completely.  He hid his distress at the blackened, bruised area that had formed to twice the size of Ray's other knee. "Let me get some ice for that, I'll be right back."
         "Sure, okay." Ray agreed wearily.  He pulled a pillow from the other side of the bed and placed it across his hips modestly, then waved the Mountie off.
          Although he was wearing underwear, Ray felt foolish to be half-naked in front of the Canadian.  It seemed to only increase his feelings of helplessness and frustration. He was lucky to have such a caring friend, he supposed, even if he didn't remember him. Guilt seized him again and he closed his eyes, disturbed at the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to remember, or he wanted it to be a dream, one or the other. He was thirty-six, well, almost, how the hell did someone that only remembered the past twenty two years adjust to, all of a sudden, being thirteen years older?
         "Here we are." Fraser informed returning and placing the ice pack on Ray's knee.  It wasn't a pleasant sight as it was bruised all the way around.  "We may have to purchase one of those ice wraps, Ray.  It would probably be more efficient."
         "Probably." Ray agreed dully, not having a clue what an ice wrap was.  Fraser glanced up at him concerned.
         "Are you hungry?" he inquired suddenly. "I picked up a pizza if you are, pineapple and ham." Ray frowned.
         "Dat's an odd combination." He commented and Fraser's eye brows rose.
         "It....it's usually your favorite Ray." He managed startled. "I could find something else if you prefer...."
         "Nah, I'll try it." Ray replied politely. "Can...would you...Do I have any shorts or anything dat I can wear?" Fraser suddenly realized his friend's embarrassment at his lack of clothing and quickly nodded.
         "I believe so, Ray." he admitted and rose to sort through the detective's dresser. "Aha! Here we are." He retrieved a pair of blue and gray shorts and handed them to Ray.  The slim detective carefully slipped into them, immediately feeling less exposed.
         Fraser helped his friend out to the sofa, bracing his foot up on the coffee table so he could still apply the ice to his swollen knee. The Mountie then returned to the kitchen to retrieve their dinner and drinks. Diefenbaker shuffled up to Ray and sat staring at him, just out of reach, as though still wary of spooking him.  After a moment Ray tentatively held out his hand toward the wolf. Diefenbaker immediately moved closer and nuzzled Ray's hand, licking his fingers affectionately.
         "Hi there." Fraser heard his partner greet the wolf softly and the Mountie smiled. "It's okay, I ain't scared of ya anymore. Yer so pretty." Fraser returned to the living room and found Ray running his fingers gently over the wolf's head. "I had a dog once, but he died, he was nothin' like you though, not near as pretty, he was just a mutt."
         "Please don't offer him compliments," Fraser sighed, in mock annoyance, as he set the pie box, plates and sodas on the coffee table. "He's already quite insufferable."
         "Aw, he's still cool though." Ray chuckled, finally turning his attention to their meal. Taking a bite of the pizza, he smiled. "Pretty good, different. Who'd ever have thought a puttin' pineapple on pizza?"
         "I've no idea, Ray," Fraser insisted calmly. "You were the one that introduced me to such a combination, not that I had a vast knowledge of pizza per say.  We did not have fast food items where I grew up."
         "What, ya mean like no McDonalds or burger shops?" Ray inquired surprised.
         "I grew up in the Northwest Territories and parts of the Yukon, a very cold and isolated area of Canada.  We hunted or fished for most of our food."
         "Dat would suck!" Ray grinned, shivering slightly at the idea. "My Mum didn't allow a whole lot of junk food growin' up, da occasional hamburger or pizza is all.  We usually just ate whatever she made.  When I hit high school I got ta eat what all da other kids did." He shook his head. "Don't know what I'd do without junk food."
         "You do tend to consume vast amounts of it." Fraser teased and was surprised when Ray blushed and frowned, dropping his slice of pizza back onto the plate.
         "I got a high metabolism." He defended quietly. "I try ta gain weight so I'm not so skinny but..." he shrugged. "It burns off too fast I guess."
         "Ray, I never meant that as a criticism." Fraser assured quickly, distressed that he might have offended his friend. Usually Ray just laughed when the Mountie teased or scolded. "I was only teasing."
         "Yah...I...I know." Ray returned quietly, picking at a piece of pineapple. "I...I'm just kinda sensitive about stuff like dat.  I get teased a lot about bein' so skinny and stuff and I guess it bothers me, even when I try not to let it." He shrugged again. "I mean it's stupid ta get worked up over it but...y'know ya hear somethin' often enough ya start ta believe it."
         "Please forgive me, Ray." Fraser offered remorsefully. "I will not tease you again."
         "Oh, now don't go gettin' all weird on me." Ray sighed. "I don't mind ya teasin' me, yer supposed ta be my friend and...friends do dat I guess. I never had a whole lot a friends ta be a judge... Just Stella...and Joe, apparently I don't see him anymore..." he paused and Fraser watched the pain enter his eyes. "Or Stella either I guess."
         "I never meant to upset you, Ray." Fraser assured helplessly, cursing himself for opening his big mouth.
          Ray was the one who had wormed his way past the Mountie's rigid defenses enough that Fraser could joke with the detective.  Before his injuries, Ray would always just tease him back. Now it seemed their special camaraderie would have to readjust until Ray either remembered or was more trusting of him.
         "So..." Ray sighed, changing the subject and taking another bite of his pizza. "What...um...what kinda stuff do we do...together?"
         "Aside from chasing criminals?" Fraser inquired.  Ray only smirked and nodded. "Well, we occasionally go to a movie or we rent videos to watch here.  We eat a lot of take out since neither of us can cook very well..."
         "I can cook!" Ray defended quickly.
         "You can?"   Fraser couldn't hide his surprise.  "You never have.  You said you hate to cook."
         "Well, I dunno about hatin' it, but I worked like part time as a short order cook in high school.  It ain't gourmet cuisine or anything but I can make a decent omelet or pasta salad."
         He took a sip of his soda, delighted that he had touched on something that the Mountie didn't know about him.  It gave him back a little piece of control that he seemed to have lost in his life.
         "I cooked a lot wit my Mum too, mostly polish dishes." He continued grinning. "Stell can't cook. She always had people ta do dat fer her, so when I asked her ta marry me last year...," He paused as he realized it wasn't last year but almost fifteen years ago that he and Stella had exchanged their vows.  He paled slightly."
         "Ray?" Fraser offered, but the detective shook it off and tried to remember what he was saying.
         "Um...so anyway Stell couldn't cook and I figured we'd starve if one of us didn't know at least how ta make toast or somethin' y'know."
         "So you did the cooking in your marriage?" Fraser inquired and immediately regretted bringing up the M word as Kowalski paled a second time, his fingers absently fidgeting with his wedding band.
         "Yah, I did most of it anyway." He admitted, his voice much softer then before and Fraser could hear his anguish. "We were...we were newlyweds so it was...y'know, a novelty I guess."
         A silence grew between them, Fraser afraid to say anything further, in case he upset the blond more and Ray was lost in his own private thoughts. Finally Fraser rose.
         "Would you care for some music, Ray?" that always lifted his partner's spirit and Ray glanced up at him startled.
         "Sure." He agreed. "What kinda music ya got, Fraser?"
         "You have a wide selection." Fraser emphasized, as he moved to the stereo and selecting a handful of CD's and presented them to his partner. Ray stared at them confused.
         "What are dey, 45's or somethin'?"
         "They are similar to records, yes." Fraser admitted.  He was again appalled that he would have to explain even something this simple to his friend.  The freind who had been the one to explain the technology to the Mountie originally. He tried to remember what Ray had told him.
         When he had finished what he had hoped was a straightforward explanation of the CD's, and not to much over Ray's head, the detective rose, carefully, setting his ice pack aside and limped to the stereo. Most of the music was unfamiliar, but some of it he recognized.  He chose the sound track to Saturday Night Fever.
         "Um...where's da turn table?" he asked glancing back at Fraser.
         "Pardon?" Fraser returned confused, as he moved to stand beside his friend. Ray offered him a mild, slightly frustrated glare and made circling gestures with his free hand.
         "Fer da record, ya know? Da turntable and needle...Ya put da record on da turntable and da needle on da arm makes it play?"
         "Oh!" Fraser recalled and lifted the top of the stereo, showing six small circles. "Just place it in one of the player's, Ray." The detective gazed at it suspiciously then set the disk in one of the circles.
         "What are da others fer?" he inquired tracing one of the empty holders.  Fraser pulled a couple of other CD's out of their cases and placed them inside.
         "You can play up to six at a time, that way you don't have to keep changing the discs at the end of each selection."
         Fraser pressed play and observed the way Ray watched one of the discs disappear under the arm of the player before music piped loudly through the room, startling the detective into stepping back. Fraser quickly adjusted the volume and lowered the dust cover on the player, then guided Ray back to the sofa.
 
 

         "Ray! Benton!" Elaine called, spotting the Detective and Mountie coming toward her. "How are you guys doing?" She enveloped Ray in an enthusiastic hug, despite that she was still in uniform.  She immediately felt the man stiffen against her.  She quickly stepped back. "What's wrong with you?"
         "Elaine." Fraser began: noticing that Ray had put the Mountie between himself and the eager policewoman.  It was something his partner seemed inclined to do often, ever since Fraser had started taking him outside the apartment. "Ray was in an accident a couple of weeks ago.  He is suffering from partial amnesia. He doesn't remember being a police officer or the people associated with his job." So far Fraser had not attempted to take Ray to the station.  He had not wanted to push, so the two friends spent their time touring Chicago.  Ray discovered all that was changed and what remained the same after so many years.
         "Oh my God!" Elaine gasped and cast a sympathetic look toward the blond.  It only served to increase Ray's discomfort. "I'm sorry Ray.  I didn't mean to...are you okay, no...no physical injuries?" Ray nodded but didn't speak, unable to respond vocally.
         He hated this part. Every time he met someone he wondered if he was supposed to know them, or if they were strangers.  He never knew whether they had been friends, enemies, or something else all together. Either way he never knew how to react. He felt like locking himself in his apartment and never coming out.  It would certainly make things easier, but Fraser seemed bent on not allowing him to curl up inside himself. Some people adapted to his condition quick enough, others seemed convinced that they were unforgettable and couldn't comprehend that Ray really didn't know who they were.
         "I...I'm Elaine." She finally offered after a tense pause.  She offered her hand to Ray. "We worked together at the 2-7. I was just a civilian aid then.  I only graduated from the academy this year." Ray shyly shook her hand, his uneasiness evident in his slumped shoulders and darting eyes.  He seemed to look everywhere but at her.
         "Hi." He murmured and quickly released her hand again. "C...Can we go now Fraser?" The Mountie exchanged an apologetic glance with Elaine before nodding to his partner.
         "Certainly, Ray." He assured and clapped a supportive hand on Ray's shoulder. "It was wonderful to see you again, Elaine."
         "You too." She offered kindly, though her eyes never left Ray. He seemed so different from the brash over confident detective she knew.  "You guys take care and call me if you need anything, okay?"
         "Thank you kindly, Elaine." Fraser returned warmly and Ray nodded.
         "Yah, thank you." He returned politely, before allowing Fraser to guide him toward their original destination. He glanced behind him, found Elaine was still watching, and quickly faced the front again.
         "She's nice." He commented as Fraser held the door to the Chinese restaurant open for him. Before Fraser could reply, however, Elaine was beside them again.
         "Ray?" she inquired softly and he turned toward her startled. "It's okay...that you don't remember me...us working together." She offered him a small smile and one of her cards. "Maybe we can get reacquainted.  You can call me if you like. We...we don't have to talk about old times, if that makes you uncomfortable, but we could...maybe make some new memories if that's okay?"
         Ray's expression was almost unreadable as he stared at the card she offered.  He lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes suspiciously bright.  Elaine deepened her smile encouragingly as he reached out a tentative hand for the card.
         "Thank you." He returned, his voice wavering slightly. "I...thank you Elaine." She smiled brightly and nodded: her gaze caught the look of approval that Fraser was giving her.
         "Yes, well, I had better get back to work...crooks to catch, heads to kick..." she lowered her eyes slightly, thinking how much that sounded like something Ray would say, but Kowalski only nodded.  He was obviously unaware of the subtle flattery. "I'll see you guys later. Stay safe."
         "Take care, Elaine." Fraser offered smiling and held the door once more for her to exit. He turned to Ray, who had started toward a table; Elaine's card still clutched in his fingers.  "I believe you may have made a new friend, Ray."
         "Maybe." Ray shrugged shyly and pulled out his wallet to place the card inside so he wouldn't loose it. "What do we usually get to eat, here Fraser?" The Mountie had taken the liberty of ordering most of the times that they ate out.  He was incredibly attuned to the detective's taste, even more than Ray was aware of.
         "Whatever you wish, Ray." He replied startling his friend. "Pick from the menu."
         "I...I never had a lot of Chinese growing up, what do I like?" Ray inquired.
         "You like vegetables, correct?" Fraser suggested and Ray nodded. "Most of the items on the menu are vegetable dishes.  You pick one and I'll tell you what is in it." Ray glanced over the menu in consideration.
         "Um...Moo Goo Guy Pan, I kinda recognize dat.  What is it?"
         "I believe that one has carrots, corn, snow peas, and chicken in a white wine sauce." The Mountie offered and Ray nodded.
         "That sounds good.  I'll have dat one." He decided and Fraser nodded as their waiter approached.         "What else does it come with?" Fraser thought from a moment trying to remember.
         "Rice, an egg roll and soup I believe." He returned and Ray nodded.
         "Okay, dat's good, sounds good, order dat." Fraser nodded and gave their order to the waiter.  He ordered water for himself and a coke for his partner. "Um...do dey have beer here, Fraser?" The Mountie nodded.
         "I am sure they do, Ray.  Would you prefer that instead of the soda?" Ray approved the change and Fraser adapted their order. The waiter wandered off.
         "You don't drink, do ya, Fraser?" Ray inquired suddenly, munching on a bread stick.
         "Only the obligatory toast to the Queen, Ray." Fraser replied and watched his friend's eyebrows rise.
         "What Queen?"
         "The Queen of England, Ray." Fraser returned patiently.
         "I thought you were from Canada?" he asked confused.
          "Canada is still ruled by the British Monarchy, though we are technically our own country." He informed calmly.
         "I knew dat, I was just testin' ya." he teased and Fraser smiled. " I learned dat in school.  Haven't forgotten everything. Ya ever meet her, Fraser?"
         "Who, Ray?"
         "The Queen." Ray reminded grinning and Fraser nodded.
         "Once, at a Consulate function during Canada day." He acknowledged proudly. "She was everything they claim her to be.  It was quite an honor."
         "Canada day?" Ray repeated thoughtfully, obviously in the mood to talk. "When's dat?"
          "It is similar to your Independence Day on July forth. Before 1982 Canada Day had been known as Dominion Day, First of July, Confederation Day, and July the First." Fraser supplied as the waiter brought their drinks. "Canada Day celebrates the events that occurred on July 1, 1867, when the British North America Act created the Canadian federal government. The BNA Act proclaimed "one Dominion under the name of Canada," hence the original title of the holiday, "Dominion Day." Dominion Day was officially renamed "Canada Day" by an Act of Parliament on October 27, 1982. This change reflected the policy of successive governments to downplay Canada's colonial origins. Canada's national celebration is always observed on July 1, unless that date falls on a Sunday, in which case it is observed the following day... " Fraser paused, as he realized that he had been rambling and Ray had not interrupted him once.
         "Dat it?" Ray inquired without a trace of sarcasm or impatience.
         "That about covers it yes." Fraser confirmed; surprised to find Ray actually looked interested.
         "You shoulda been a history teacher or something, Buddy." He offered shyly. "Ya got a thing fer facts and dates and stuff, don't cha?" Fraser nodded modestly. "Dat's cool. I wanted ta be a teacher y'know, but my grade point average was too low. As it was dad pulled in a lot of favors ta get me into college at all."
         "I think you would have been a wonderful teacher, Ray." Fraser offered kindly, watching his friend blush. "What subject did you want to teach?"
         "It doesn't matter.  I didn't make it." Ray frowned and glanced around idly. "I guess I screwed up at college too.  Bet dad was pissed, but he won't talk ta me about it when I ask."
         "I am sure it is al...how do you say...water under the bridge, now Ray." Fraser assured. "Your parents are both very proud of what you have become."
         "Nah, they'd never be proud of me." Ray refused as their meals arrived. "I'm not dat kinda son."
         "What kind would that be, Ray?" Fraser inquired, as Ray poured soy sauce over some of his meal, mixing it together with his fork.
         "Y'know...smart, talented...not such a screw up I guess." Ray deliberated. "My brother got dat department all sewed up, y'know? I never quite measured up to his standards."
         "I am sure that your parents love you both equally Ray." Fraser confided and again his friend shrugged. "I find you to be all of those things and I am an excellent judge of character."
         "Ya are, hey?" Ray grinned and Fraser returned his smile.
         "Of course, I have you as my partner, what more is there to say?  I never lie, Ray."
         "Yah, well, eat yer food before it gets cold, Mr. Honesty." Ray teased and Fraser did just that.
 

         Fraser and Ray entered the bank and fell in line for one of the three tellers there. Kowalski couldn't quite grasp how his bankcard worked and since he could no longer remember his ATM code Fraser was taking him in to have it changed to something he would know.
         They chatted comfortably back and forth, though Fraser sensed his friend's apprehension.  Ray had informed him that banks made him nervous. He did not elaborate; either assuming the Mountie understood why, since he seemed to know so much about him as it was, or unwilling to dredge up such a private memory.
         They were both startled when three men walked in, all with ski masks and semi automatic weapons. Two rushed the tellers, demanding their money, while the third ordered everyone to get down on the floor. A guard had been standing at the back, close to where Fraser and Ray stood and immediately looked to them for answers.
         Ray didn't have any clue why the older man was staring at him.  Ray had already dropped to his knees with the others, yet Fraser remained standing.
         "Excuse me, Sir." The Mountie was saying and Ray couldn't believe his ears. "I am afraid I will have to ask you to relinquish your weapons.  You are all under arrest." The third man looked Fraser up and down before replying.
         "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
         "My name is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted police..." Fraser continued.  Ray stared up at him in shock.
         "What are you doing?" he hissed. "Shut up and get down here!" Fraser gave his friend a look that Ray didn't understand.
         "You wanna play hero, Mountie?" The gunman sneered aiming his weapon directly at Fraser. "Yer gonna be a dead hero." Ray's instinct was to stay where he was. His fear taking over any foolish thoughts of bravery, yet this was Fraser, his only friend. He felt himself rise, despite the danger he was putting himself in.
         "Look, he...he's loony toons." Ray appealed to the gunman, thinking it wasn't far from the truth.  Didn't the Canadian realize he was putting them all in danger? Ray couldn't comprehend the words coming out of his own mouth or what was giving him the courage to say them. "Just...just ignore him, okay? Take da money and go."
         "Who are you?" the gunman hissed.
         "I'm nobody.  I swear!" Ray insisted as it finally dawned on Fraser that Ray was not wearing his weapon and that his partner was looking very frightened.
         The Mountie had reacted automatically, expecting his partner to back him up.  He had momentarily forgotten that Ray no longer knew how to be a cop. Both men bent to their knees but the gunman, reveling in Ray's obvious alarm, placed his gun under the blonde's chin, preventing him from dropping lower on the floor.
         The man laughed and Ray found himself back in the bank with Ellery, a terrified thirteen year old and scared out of his mind. Beads of sweat dotted his brow and upper lip. He was trembling uncontrollably, afraid if he so much as breathed, the man would shoot him. The man stood before him menacingly.
         "You still wanna play hero huh?" the man scoffed evilly, as he played with the trigger on his gun.  He teased Ray with the idea of being shot in the head, the chest, or the groin. Fraser watched helplessly as a single tear rolled down Ray's cheek.  For the Mountie it was like someone had kicked him in the gut.
         "Leave him alone." Fraser demanded, as Ray closed his eyes ashamed and defeated.  The Mountie cursed his role in Ray's terror. "He's doing as you ask.  Leave him be."
         "Com'on, we got da dough, let's scram!" the first gunman ordered and started to hurry out of the bank.
          Finally the muzzle rose from the detective's head and a second later Ray felt the painful blow of the other end of the gun swiping hard him across the face. He fell to the floor dazed, both from the blow and from what had just happened.  The man laughed and hurried after his friends.
         A teller rose and hurried to call the police.  Ray cradled his face, curled up in a fetal position, and started rocking himself. He closed his eyes tightly against the barrage of images that now assaulted him, scenes that perhaps were from his past but were moving too quickly for him to understand.

         "...my behavior is unacceptable." Fraser continued.  Ray shook his head and tried to focus again on reality. "I promise it will never happen again..."
         "I can't trust ya dat it won't Fraser." he insisted.  The Mountie felt a stabbing pain shoot through his heart and a heavy dread filter down over his body. "Yer freakin' nuts! Nobody told me yer were nuts.  I thought ya were kind of a freak but...no sane person pulls a stunt like dat. Are ya stupid or what? Ya ain't Superman for Christ's sake! How could ya do dat?"
         "Ray I am sorry I..."
         "Elaine, please, get him outta here." Ray almost sobbed and stormed toward his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
         Elaine offered Fraser a sympathetic look, watching the Mountie struggle with his feelings.  He wanted to stay but was afraid to hurt Ray further by doing so.
         "Stay, Benton." She finally decided for him, handing him his cup of tea and giving him a gentle push toward the sofa. "He needs you, he's just upset."
         "He is right, Elaine." Fraser muttered miserably.  His fingers gripped the cup fiercely, as he struggled to remain calm and in control. "I did put him in danger.  I just didn't think."
         "This is hard for everyone." She stated softly. "No one knows what to do.  We just have to try and be here for him, not let him push us away. Okay?" Fraser nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She squeezed his shoulder then moved toward Ray's bedroom. She knocked once then entered, closing the door behind her.
         Ray was stretched out on the bed, with a pillow over his head.  His body was shaking slightly, as he wept quietly. She walked over and lay down beside him, knowing that as much as Fraser cared, the strictly disciplined Mountie couldn't extend the one thing Ray seemed to need most right now; a shoulder to cry on.
         She pulled the pillow away.  He moved into her arms willingly, resting his cheek against her chest and wrapping his arms around her. She wove her fingers through his hair while her other hand made soothing circles over his back.
         "I suck." He sniffed.  Elaine chuckled.
         "No you don't.  You're just confused." She assured,
         "I didn't mean it, Elaine." He offered, rising up on his elbow to meet her gaze. "I didn't mean ta hurt Fraser like dat."
         "I know." She admitted gently and pulled him back down to cradle him to her breast. "Benton knows that too. It's hard for both of you. But you have to remember he is your friend and he would never intentionally hurt you."
         "I...I think I remembered something, but I'm not sure." Ray acknowledged quietly. "I can't make sense of it, but it's...its' about him...uh...Fraser."
         "Maybe you should ask him about it?" she suggested but he shook his head shyly.
         "He probably hates me now."
         "No, he'd never hate you, Ray." She sighed. "You have to talk about it or you'll just get more confused and frustrated." He raised up again to look down at her, then bent his head and kissed her shyly.
         "Don't take dis wrong, but I wish you were my Stell." He sighed.
         "I know sweetheart, you love her very much." She offered kindly.
         "Very much." He agreed forlornly. "But she doesn't belong ta me anymore, and I can't even remember what I did wrong."
         "Go to sleep, Ray." She suggested. "You'll feel better." Ray nodded and moments later drifted off.
 

         "It may help prompt your memory, Ray." Fraser encouraged, as they pulled into the 27th Precinct's back lot. "You spent a good deal of time here.  Something may be familiar."
         "But I don't remember, Fraser!" Ray refused reluctantly, picking at the steering wheel with his fingers. "I don't know anybody here."
         Fraser scowled and bit back his own frustration. Ray had forgiven him for the bank, thanks mostly to Elaine no doubt, but it seemed the detective had just crawled back inside himself.  Fraser understood Ray was frightened and confused, but then so was he.
         He couldn't help worry that his partner would never remember him, that they would never be the friends they once were.  Fraser was trying everything he could think of to help. He wanted Ray to get better, because he understood first hand how terrifying it was to loose your memory. He had forgotten who he was for almost two days, after attempting to stop a kidnapping, and Ray Vecchio had seen him through it. Now the shoe was on the other foot and he was getting a sense of the frustration and hurt that Ray Vecchio must have felt when Fraser couldn't remember their friendship.
         "Yes, Ray, I know." Fraser finally acknowledged. "But perhaps seeing them will help you to remember. They are all your friends and they wouldn't do anything to hurt or embarrass you, Ray."
         "What if I say something stupid?" Ray demanded suddenly. "What...what if I don't remember them and I hurt their feelings or..." Fraser placed his hand on his friend's shoulder comfortingly.
         "Ray, don't worry about their feelings, right now," he insisted. "We are here for you.  You just do or say whatever is comfortable, no one will hold it against you." Ray nodded slowly then glanced back at the wolf waiting patiently in the back seat.
         "C...can Dief come with us?" he asked hopefully. "I...I feel better when he's around.  You and him are my only..."
         Again Ray stopped in mid sentence, reluctant to admit certain feelings aloud.  Fraser steeled himself against the sympathy that he wanted to offer.  He knew it was something he couldn't do.  The Detective would refuse any kind of pity.
         "Diefenbaker may accompany us, certainly." Fraser agreed, stepping out of the GTO, and allowing the wolf to drop down beside him. Ray joined him reluctantly and they headed inside.
         It was relatively quiet down stairs, just the desk Sergeant and a few people waiting or walking through the halls.  Once they entered the squadroom though the volume level rose dramatically and Ray winced at the chatter and ringing telephones. Fraser glanced at him expectantly, letting Ray decide whether or not to continue.  He was silently proud when the blond straightened his shoulders, cracked his neck and stepped forward, Dief at his heels.
         "Hey Vecchio!" someone called.  Ray ignored them for a second, before remembering what Fraser had told him about being undercover.  He finally nodded toward the person politely and continued with Fraser toward what he was told had been his desk, or rather Vecchio's desk.
         "Have a seat, Ray." Fraser encouraged and Ray settled into the chair slowly, waiting for a sign that something was familiar.  He recognized nothing. "Look around if you like."
         Ray shrugged and did as the Mountie recommended, glancing through his two small drawers. He found a large bag of candy, two small rubber balls, some kind of portable, hand-held fan, a scattering of pens and business cards with Ray Vecchio's name on them and a small photo of him and Fraser.
         He jumped, guiltily, when the phone beside him rang.  It startled Fraser as well who had settled in his usual seat opposite Ray.
         "S...should I answer it?" he asked the Mountie, but Fraser shook his head.
         "The operator will answer, when you don't pick up." He assured, catching sight of Welsh walking toward them. "Ah, here comes Leftenant Welsh."
         "Who?" Ray inquired then followed his friend's glance toward the larger man approaching.
         For some reason, Ray felt guilty for being caught sitting at the desk, and he bolted out of the chair, knocking over the small cup of pens perched on the corner. He immediately bent to pick them up, with Fraser's assistance, until a pair of large boots came into view. Ray's gaze traveled up toward the Lieutenant's face, anxiously, fully aware that others were now watching him as well.
         "I...I'm sorry I...I didn't mean..." he began flustered, setting the cup on the desk with shaking hands, almost tipping it a second time.
         "Relax, Det...Ray." Welsh amended and offered the anxious blond a reassuring smile. "Why don't we talk in my office? Catch up on things?"
         "Um...ah..." Ray looked toward Fraser.  The Mountie had retrieved his Stetson and was posed to follow them. "Ah...yah, okay...we...sure, yes, Sir." Welsh's eyes met the Mounties's briefly before he led Ray toward his office.  He couldn't help but notice the way Kowalski kept his eyes lowered from the others staring at him.
         "Don't you people have work to do?" he barked, startling Ray, who was nervous enough as it was. He patted Ray's shoulder affectionately. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya."
         They entered the office and Welsh had started to close the door when Francesca Vecchio flew inside. She threw her arms around Ray in delight. Fraser immediately stepped forward to disengage them, knowing how such display's bothered his friend, but  was surprised and silently pleased when his partner accepted the embrace.
         "Yer back!" she crowed and hugged him hard, before releasing him just enough to step back and smile up at him. "I missed ya."
         "Hi Frannie." He greeted shyly and she gapped at him.
         "Ya remember me?" she declared happily and he shook his head reluctantly.
         "Who could forget you?" he countered and Francesca beamed at him in delight, her joy earning him another hug.
         "I'll go get ya some coffee.  I know just how ya like it." She offered, releasing him, to ask if the other two men wanted some as well. They declined and she turned back toward the door, glancing at Ray again. "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."
         Fraser and Welsh watched the pretty Italian hurry through the station, obviously pleased that Ray remembered her.  They then turned back toward the Detective, who had settled quietly on the sofa, leaning forward, his hands cupped together in a relaxed pose.
         "That's great, Ray." Welsh encouraged grinning. "You remember Francesca?" Ray met Fraser's gaze, knowing the Mountie could read the truth in his expression.  He lowered his eyes and shook his head reluctantly.
         "Ah...no, but Fraser told me about her." He admitted quietly. "I didn't wanna hurt her feelings."
         "That was very kind of you, Ray." Fraser offered impressed. "Although I am sure Francesca would understand that you didn't." Ray shrugged again.
         "I know but...she looked so happy ta see me and..." he shook his head. "Don't tell her yet, okay? Maybe I will remember her later.  I'd like to."
         "Understood." Fraser agreed as Francesca returned with Ray's coffee, complete with the package of Smarties she had confiscated from his desk.
         "Thank you." He returned politely, taking both and setting them on the floor beside the sofa, not quite thirsty enough to try it yet.
         Francesca seemed content to sit beside him, until Welsh reminded her that this was a place of work not a social gathering. She gave him a tolerant look and rose unhurriedly, smoothing out her blue civilian aid top and black mini skirt, before offering Ray a bright smile.
         "Maybe I can come over and cook you dinner one night?" she suggested. "I'd invite ya home, but ya probably don't remember Ma and Maria and the others, and they're all a lot to handle on a normal day.  You let me know when yer hungry fer a good Italian meal and I'll come fix it fer you."
         "I'd like dat, Frannie." Ray replied kindly. "Thank you." Francesca was touched by his manners and she impulsively reached out to ruffle his hair.
         "Yah, well, don't think it's because I like ya or anything.  It's just because yer my brother, sort of." She declared.  He smiled, not fully understanding what she meant but going with it anyway.
         "Okay." He agreed easily, as Welsh cleared his throat in warning. Francesca sighed and paused to purr at Fraser before tossing her head and leaving the office.

         Ray walked along the evening streets of Chicago, searching for things that were familiar and discovering new things he didn't recall seeing before. The city itself was pretty much the same, a concrete jungle of lights, sounds, smells and bustling people. Hot dog and pretzel vendors parked in every other corner, neon signs advertising a variety of services and landmarks of certain hot spots. Ray visited the Chicago Theater, where he had spent a good deal of his time as a child, sneaking in to watch movies and stage shows. He remembered the many times his family had driven over the Michigan Avenue Bridge to go visit his grandmother for holidays and special Sunday weekends.  Although he seemed to have missed a lot of the technology and development of the city over the past thirteen years, it still felt like home to him. He loved this city, that would probably never change because it was his home. It was where he grew up, where he had met and married Stella and where he allowed himself to dream.
         Glancing toward another familiar landmark in the city, Ray almost stumbled over an old man curled up on the street beside one of the buildings.  There seemed to be many more homeless people now then he could ever recall seeing before.  Pausing to stare down at the vagrant, Ray noticed the man wore two dirty sweatshirts, one over the other, a pair of cotton gloves, without fingers, and an old, stained pair of work pants. His boots had holes in them and the man was shivering in the cold evening air.
         The man glanced up at him, a look of fear on his face. Perhaps he thought Ray was going to harass him, but Ray only felt sorry for him. Retrieving his keys and wallet from his coat, he put them in the pocket of his jeans, then shrugged out of the garment and knelt to gently lay it over the shivering man. Ray offered him a small smile when the man cast him a startled but grateful look.
         "Get something to eat, okay," Ray encouraged, handing the man a twenty. "Something hot."
         "Bless you, sir." The old man croaked and accepted the money with shaking fingers. "Bless you." Ray nodded, straightened and continued on his way.
         A woman, who had witnessed his kind gesture, stopped him as he past.
         "He'll only buy liquor with that money, you know." She stated disapprovingly.  Ray glanced back at the man who was staring at the money happily and pulling on the warm coat. He shrugged.
         "That'll keep him warm too." He decided, honestly, and moved away from her. The woman continued to stare after him for a long moment before shaking her head and moving on.
         Ray tilted his head back, opened his mouth to catch some of the cold flakes on his tongue, and walked ahead to lean against the rail that surrounded a skating pond. He watched the people slide past him with an easiness that he envied, as music from the speakers mounted on the posts above piped music to skate by.
         A little girl in a pink skirt, a purple coat and scarf glided toward the center where her father stood encouragingly. She almost got all the way there when she fell, but rather then cry and give up she rose, dusted herself off and tried again. Ray envied her courage.
         If only it were that easy to pick up the shattered pieces of his own life, too just rise and move on.  But how could he find where he was going, when he didn't know where he had been. Time was a constant, all the great scholars and scientists agreed. Yet, it was the one thing in Ray's life that was the least consistent. Years of his life had been erased and he had no way to recount them. He didn't even know if he wanted to.
         Did he want to be that person everyone claimed he was, or was he in need of a new identity? He had grown up to become someone unfamiliar, pretending to be someone he didn't know, with a job that he couldn't fathom having. He liked Fraser, that was true, even trusted him, but Fraser, Francesca, Welsh, even Stella were all remembering a person he no longer felt he was. The person they all loved and respected, was not who Ray felt he truly was.
         So who was he? He was a man without a past, at least beyond his collage years. In some ways he still felt so young and vulnerable. .  In becoming a man he had somehow lost Stella and the closeness he had shared with his brother and best friend Joe.  Yet he had gained a Mountie and what seemed like a fine circle of friends. According to some he was a hero, to others an agitation. How did he find out which one of those was the truer Ray Kowalski?
         Ray suspected he should be cold, having given his coat away, but his T-shirt and the heavy sweater, he wore over it, seemed to keep back the cold. Perhaps it was just that having helped someone he now felt inner warmth that chased the chill from his bones. Ray had always liked helping people, the people of this city that he loved so dearly. Maybe that was why he had become a cop.  He had always thought about it.
         He realized he still wanted to be a cop.  He wanted to help people, protect them from people like Ellery and those punks at the bank. He couldn't remember any skills he might have had, so how would he go about starting over? Would they just let him come back and learn as he went, or would he have to go where ever wanna be policemen went for training? Would Stella come back to him if he tried becoming what he was before? Did they have a second chance at happiness?
 

         Ray's head was spinning in confusion, as he sat on the sofa in his apartment. His parents had just left after spending most of the day with him.  Fraser had to finally go back to work. His Father had brought up going back to school many times over the course of their visit.  He had insisted that Ray had never been happy as a cop, so school would probably be the best thing for him, then at least he could get a decent job.
         Ray defended himself by bringing up how many people had told him what a good cop he was.  He still wanted to help people, but Damien had frightened him by announcing how many times Ray had been injured in the line of duty.
         "Do you really want to go back to risking your life for the ungrateful miscreants in this city, Raymond?" his father demanded. "They don't care if you live or die, y'know."
         "But Fraser said I did a lot of good as a cop, dad." Ray had protested. "He said..."
         "Now Raymond," Damien, began gently, settling across from his son at the small kitchen table as Barbara served the meal. "I don't mean to take anything away from the Mountie, he's a good man.  He's looked after you pretty good, but he's the main reason you've been put in danger so often."
         "How dad?'
         "He doesn't think, Son.  He just leaps ahead and expects you to follow and bail him out." Ray shook his head.
         "No, Dad." He denied. "Fraser is my friend.  I trust him, he..."
         "Raymond, the only reason he's your partner is because of this Vecchio fellow." Damien stated.  Ray scowled at his father's words.
         "I know I'm supposed ta be coverin' fer another cop, Dad." He pressed. "Fraser told me..." Damien interrupted.
         "But, did he tell you that he was Vecchio's old partner?" he inquired. "When you took over as dis other cop the Mountie had to take you on as his partner, so no one would suspect you weren't really Vecchio." Ray stared at him confused.
         "I...no.  Fraser is my partner, dad.  He said we were best friends and..."
         "Because you have to be, son." Damien interceded. "It's part of your cover."
         Ray had felt anger and betrayal swell inside him and had stormed to his room, leaving his meal untouched. His parents had left shortly after, being unable to coerce their son to return to the living area and continue their visit.
         Now Ray struggled to deal with the idea that all this time, Fraser had only been protecting his real partner's cover. Perhaps the Mountie had only been feeling sorry for Ray.  Maybe he felt some kind of obscure sense of duty toward him. Was that why Fraser had never fully explained Ray Vecchio's role in their relationship?  Had the Mountie been ashamed to admit he felt pity for Ray and nothing more?
         Fraser was Vecchio's partner. Francesca, Welsh, Dewey, all of those at the station, that had treated him so kindly, were just trying to protect the identity of one of their own. How unfair was that? Didn't any of them care about him, Ray Kowalski, or was his whole life based on a lie? He stared around the apartment, regarding the things that had been unfamiliar to him when he first arrived home from the hospital, and wondered if this too was all just window dressing for his cover as Ray Vecchio. Was this what being a cop was about, living your life as someone else and not having anything of your own?
         Suddenly, unable to stand this new reality, he bolted to his feet and started smashing whatever he could get his hands on in a ferocious fury of confusion, hurt and betrayal. He ripped up the furniture, the curtains, tore down the blinds, and tossed a lamp through the living room window. He swiped nick knacks off their shelves, broke dishes, and threw the television at the stereo, scattering and splintering many of the tapes and tiny discs stored there. Ripping the microwave from the wall, he shattered the glass dining table, uncaring that some of the shards flew back at him and dug into his flesh.
         He scattered everything in the bathroom, all the unfamiliar medicines, and the towels the lotions and hair gels. He ripped the sheets from his bed, opened his closet and threw all his clothes on the floor. He paused, breathless from his rampage, and stared at his reflection in the dresser's mirror. He couldn't see the person he once was.  The idealistic, affectionate, hopeful young man he had been, now appeared to be a desperate shell of a man, a decade older, with fear in his eyes, confusion in his mind and betrayal in his heart.
         "Who are you?" he screamed.  He punched the mirror furiously, and shattered the false image; giving him some semblance of sanity again.
         He stared at his bleeding hand for a moment, before putting his other fist through the remainder of the glass.  He stared down at them speculatively. His anger started to decrease and he finally started to feel the pain in his fingers, which were now red with his own blood. He noticed that some of the blood had covered his wedding ring and he quickly ran to the bathroom to wash it off.
         "What are ya doin' to yerself, Ray?" he muttered aloud. "Yer loosin' it completely."
         Unwilling to chance another glance in the mirror, Ray slipped his ring off, set it on the sink, then reached for some bandages and antiseptic cream. He treated his hands as best he could, then wrapped them both in rolls of sterile gauze. He picked up the bottle of Advil, that had been thrown to the floor, and tossed three of the small pills back.  He hoped it wold numb the pain in his hands; for awhile at least.
         His reached for his ring, preparing to put it on again, then stopped. No, he wasn't married any more.  He had to realize that. With a great deal of effort and tears in his eyes, Ray Kowalski dropped the gold band into the toilet and flushed away the final remainder of his past.
 

         "Ray?" Fraser called a short time later, as he knocked on his friend's door a third time, still receiving no answer. He knew the detective was home, the GTO was parked out front and the light was on under the door. "Ray, it's Fraser.  I know you are home."
         "Go away Fraser." Ray called from inside.  Fraser stared at the door perplexed.
         "I...I thought we might catch a movie, Ray." The Mountie offered through the door, glancing down as Dief pawed at the wood expectantly. "Dief and I would like to come in, if we may." Fraser hoped announcing the wolf's presence would earn them entry, as Ray seemed so fond of the animal.
         "No.  I'm not up fer company, Fraser." Ray returned and Fraser frowned.  There was something dangerous in his friend's quiet tone, something the Mountie had never heard before and it worried him. He tried again.
         "Ray, what is wrong? Why won't you open the door?" Silence. "Ray?"
         "Ray doesn't live here anymore." His friend announced.  Fraser's keen hearing picked up on the tears in Ray's voice.
         "Please let me in, Ray." He pleaded.  He knew his partner was upset and he wanted to help. "I'd like to talk to you."
         "It's okay, Fraser." Ray replied, back to that same quiet tone that worried the Mountie more then tears did. "Ya don't need too pretend anymore.  I know all about Vecchio."
         "What about, Ray Vecchio, Ray?" Fraser demanded, worried. What in the world did his former partner have to do with Ray's situation?  "Please, Ray.  Let me in so we can talk."
         "I don't wanna talk anymore, Fraser. I'm done talkin'." Ray insisted. "Not to you, not ta Stella, Welsh, my folks, nobody, ya get me? I just wanna be left alone."
         "Don't push us away, Ray." Fraser encouraged desperately. "We all care about you.  We only want to help." Ray's response was emphatic.
         "No! No more lookin' stupid.  No more bein' afraid.  No more carin' if people know me or not. I'm done, it's over."
         "Ray...w...what are you planing to do then?" Fraser demanded anxiously, praying to God his friend wasn't suicidal. He pounded angrily on the door when Ray didn't reply. "Don't do this Ray! Don't do this to me...to us. Don't shut me out! You are my friend and my partner and...if you don't open this door I...I shall break it down this instant!"
         Fraser was startled when the door opened and Ray stepped out, wearing jeans, a gray sweatshirt and his heavy leather coat.  He was clean-shaven, his hair had been slicked back to lay flat against his head, instead of its usual spikes, and he wore dark glasses to hide his eyes. Fraser took note of the large duffel bag his partner carried and the wrappings on Ray's hands.
         "What happened?" he demanded immediately.
         "Nothing." Ray returned and closed the door, locking it behind him. He then handed the key and an envelope to Fraser. "Drop dis to da landlady fer me.  Tell her if its not enough money ta cover da damage, I'll send her more when I get where I'm going."
         The only things Ray had left untouched were the things he knew as his, Baba's table, his desk, his bike, still hanging on the wall, an orange lamp that had once been in his dorm and the dresser in his bedroom, that had always belonged to him.
         "D...damage, Ray?" Fraser repeated puzzled. "What damage?"
         "I made a little mess in da apartment." Ray replied.  The thin blond bent briefly to scratch Dief's ears then quickly walked away from them.
         "Ray, where are you going?" Fraser questioned hurrying after him.
         "Away, Fraser." Ray replied as they headed down the stairs.
         "But Ray, what about getting your memory back?' The Mountie implored, desperate not to let his friend walk out on him like this. "If you stay here you have a better chance with things that are familiar..." Ray paused on one of the landings and turned to face him.
         "My memory may not come back, Fraser," he stated firmly. "And I can't wait fer it ta make everything better, so I'm leavin' to figure out who I am, or at least who I can be. Stayin' here just reminds me of who I was and I'm not dat person anymore. I need ta find out who I am.  Can ya understand dat?"
         Fraser did understand.  He had felt much the same when he had left for Canada after his bout of Amnesia, but somehow that situation seemed different then what Ray was facing. Fraser feared if the detective left, he would never return.
         "Let me come with you, Ray." He suggested earnestly. "I...I can help I can protect you."
         "From what, Fraser?" Ray smirked. "All the big bad people of the world?  I can do dat myself."
         "Things have changed, Ray.  You aren't safe alone anymore and..."
         "Look, I appreciate what you've done, even if it was because ya were just tryin' ta protect Vecchio like my Dad said..." Fraser immediately protested.
         "No, Ray, I..."
         "I appreciate it, but I gotta go." Ray finished and continued down.
         "Don't do this, Ray." Fraser implored, behind him, following quickly as the Detective stepped outside and headed for his car. "Ray, I...I don't know what your Father told you about Ray Vecchio.  It's true he was my partner before and that you took his place, but that isn't why I..." Fraser faltered.  He needed to make Ray listen, and in desperation he grabbed the blonde's arm; preventing him from sliding behind the wheel.
        "Regardless of what brought us together, you are my partner now, Ray. Please don't throw away that friendship because you are confused and hurting.  Please let me help."
         "I have ta do dis, Fraser." Ray insisted quietly, lowering his eyes sadly.
         "Why? Why do you have to run away?" Fraser demanded, his fear turning to anger. "If you aren't concerned about your memory returning, fine, we'll forget it, sweep it under the tapestry..."
         "Rug, Fraser." Ray couldn't help correcting.
         "Rug, carpet, whatever!" Fraser exclaimed, very near the end of his patience.  Ray had to bite back a grin.  He had never seen the Mountie so passionate and worked up.
         "What I am trying to say, Ray." He continued earnestly. "Is, I won't press you to remember anything from before.  I will just be your friend.  We...we can discover who you are together." Ray witnessed the torment in the Canadian's eyes, and he realized how difficult it was for the Mountie to discuss his true feelings. "Ray, you...you are my friend, perhaps my best friend..."
         "What about Vecchio?" Ray asked quietly, he was still angry about what his father had said.  He still felt betrayed. Fraser paused and took a few deep breaths as he searched for an answer.
         "Ray Vecchio will always be my friend." He admitted finally. "But you...you and I are different, Ray.  We...I felt a connection with you from the first day we met.   I...I cannot explain it." He lowered his eyes for a moment and scratched his neck nervously. Ray could tell that the Mountie was very uncomfortable with the intimacy of this conversation  "Ray, although we are not blood related, I...I feel that you and Dief are my family.  You two are all I have left.  Please don't push us away."
         Ray regarded him and the wolf quietly for a long time as a silence fell between them. He wanted to believe him.  He had come to like Fraser so much and the Canadian had treated him better than anyone ever had. That was why it hurt so much to think their friendship hadn't been real.

to be continued....
 

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