Disclaimer: With the exception of the drug dealer, Alliance owns these
guys, not me. They will be returned in fairly good condition.... with
minimal injuries. The title is by Psychotica, owned by American Recordings.

Drama, slash death story

Rated R for M/M sexual situations, language, and violence. I don't get
too graphic, but if  you are underage or the idea of two men together
offends  you, don't read any further. You will go blind. It happened
to someone I know. Oh, you think I'm kidding.... 

Whoever Has Loved Knows
All That Life Contains of Sorrow and Joy.
                
                      --George Sand
                   'French Wit and Wisdom'
                                               
                                          180 Degrees
                                              by
                                              Rae

    The city of Chicago had won a great victory. Thanks to a brilliant
prosecution headed by Stella Kowalski and a number of witnesses who were
sick of seeing drug dealers like Lee Rankman destroy their neighborhood,
the trial was over in a few short weeks and the jury came back with a
guilty verdict. In a way the defense was sunk before the trial even began,
and the more they tried to fight, they deeper they buried themselves.
Ray recovered quickly, suffering from a limited number of painful withdrawl
headaches as he did. IA, surprisingly,  plead ignorance to knowledge
of the detective's private investigation and for once stood behind the
27th instead of trying to tear it down. And Lee Rankman was going away
for a long, long time. All in all, a happy ending. 

 Ray met Fraser at the Consulate that night with a pizza and a bottle
of champagne with the intention of celebrating. They didn't really get
to the champagne. Or for that matter, the pizza. Ben looked up from his
desk to see Ray standing in the doorway.  The detective wore black boots
adorned with sliver buckles, dark blue jeans and a slightly worn leather
jacket over a white t-shirt. Stan's head was slightly bowed, a cognizant
shine in his eyes and a sexy little curl on his lips. He appeared to
Benny like some sensual fallen angel come to lead him into temptation.
And Fraser gave in, all too willingly. Their eyes met and food and drink
were instantly forgotten. They wanted to make love. With the tension
of the past few weeks finally gone, it seemed that this experience far
surpassed any other and brought them together again and again in a colorful
merging of body, heart and soul. 

 Wiggling slightly out Ben's embrace so that he could face him, Ray said,
"I'm thinking we should take a vacation. Maybe a trip up to the Territories."
Ben looked at him oddly. "I thought you come down with a skin condition
when you leave the city." Ray furrowed his brow. "When did I say that?"
"The day I met you." The detective thought about this for a moment and
shrugged. "Oh. Well, I lied."
"Ah." Ah. Damnit! He hated that! That 'ah' thing. The Mountie did that
all the time. That annoying 'ah.' "What 'ah'?!", Ray yelled suddenly.
"Why do you have to say that?! What the hell is 'ah'?!" Fraser was mildy
surprised, but greatly amused by his lover's outburst. "Just an expression
of understanding." Kowalski rolled on top of him and kissed him. "You're
a freak." Ben ran his fingers through the soft, spiky blonde hair and
returned the kiss. "Understood." Stan looked at him, suddenly lost in
thought.
"Damnit! You pulled me off the subject. I think we should take a trip
to the Yukon or something." "What brought this on?"
"Nothin'. I just-I wanna get away from the city for alittle while. Away
from the violence and the noise." "But, Ray, I'm not entirely sure you'd
enjoy yourself in the Yukon. It's very cold and very isolated-" Kowalski
kissed him deeply. His face was very close to Fraser's as he spoke. "I
just want to be with you and I want to be able to understand you." There
as a certain boyish hopefulness in those clear green eyes and the Mountie
melted beneath their gaze. "As you wish." The doorbell rang then and
the detective perked up. "Who the hell is that?", he muttered irritably
even as Fraser eased him away so he could get out of bed. "Tell 'em to
piss off, Frase.", Ray grumbled.  Ben sighed, not bothering to reprimand
Kowalski for his language. "That wouldn't be professional, Ray." He groaned,
watching his lover get dressed. "Screw professional. It isn't professional
to wake people up at two in the morning. No one is normally even here
at this time. Do you have to wear that thing just to answer the door?"
He was referring to the oh-so-sexy uniform that made Fraser damn near
irresistable. Well, he was irresistable regardless of what he was wearing,
but the uniform was kind of a special delight for Ray. "Yes, I do have
to wear it. As a representative of the Canadian Consulate I have to look
presentable at all times, so-" The detective rolled his eyes. "Just go
answer the door." Ben nodded and disappeared from the office. 

The man at the door was a rather small fellow with thining grey hair
and large glasses. He wore a  long black coat over a dark blue pants
suit. He adjusted his glasses and looked at Ben evenly. "Detective Kowalski?"

"No. May I-"
"Is he here?" Fraser was slightly taken back by the way he was so sharply
cut off. "Well, yes, but I'm afraid he's indisposed at the moment. Is
there something I can help you with? The man put his hand into his coat.
"Actually, you can..."

 Ray sighed and sat up. He was growing restless.
"Frase?" No answer.
"Fraser?"  Still no answer. Groaning he rolled out of the cot and wandered
out of the office. "Frase, who the hell-" He stopped short. The Consulate
door was wide open. Fraser was lying beside it. A thick trailing of blood
indicated where he had struck the door and slide downward. Ray felt the
scream rise in his throat. Before he had a chance to move forward, the
gunman appeared in the doorway. "Kowalski. A message for you." He felt
only a slight burning sensation as he collasped to the floor. The last
thing his memory recorded was Benny's eyes, open, glazed and distant,
as if so far away. Then the world fell into darkness. 

 Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Oh, that godforsaken monitor again. Couldn't
someone shut that thing off? Ray couldn't move. His body felt like lead.
He opened his eyes slowly. The sudden bright light made his eyes water.
"Where-" So tired. A hand fell over his and he turned his head. Francesca.
Her eyes were red, swollen as if she'd been crying for days. Try to remember.
"Hey, Frannie.", he whispered. His throat was terribly dry and his voice
was hoarse. She sniffed. "Ray." She moved forward, burying herself against
him.
"Oh, Ray. Ray. Please. I can't loose you too. Not you too.", she sobbed.
Me, too? What the hell does that me--Fraser! Shooting. He'd been shot.
And Fraser had been shot. But Fraser was alive. He had to be. The Mountie
didn't die, he couldn't die. Oh, Christ, not Fraser. His eyes darted
past Frannie to Welsh, Dewey and Huey, all who were standing still as
death. "Fran?", Ray whispered, mustering his voice."Where's Ben?" Her
sobbing only increased. He fixed on Welsh. "Lieu? Where's Fraser?" Welsh
stepped foward slowly and under the dingy glow of the hospital lights
he could see he had been crying also. "Constable Benton Fraser was pronounced
dead on the scene.", he said, his voice cracked "I'm sorry, Detective."
For a moment Kowalski just stared at them. It wasn't real. This wasn't
real. Fraser was alive. He was fine. Maybe alittle banged up, but he
was fine. He had to be. He glared at the three men as if they were all
in on some cruel joke. "No. You're wrong. He's Fraser, he doesn't die."
Welsh's jaw tightened. "Ray." He closed his eyes. There was something
wrong with all of this. He must still be dreaming, that was the only
explanation. He couldn't feel anything. Nothing. No emotion. So it had
to be a dream. Not real. His lover, his life was not gone. Because if
Fraser was dead, then so was he. 

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