Author's notes: Please email.
Hopefully this one will have all its punctuation, something happened to the last one. I did use quotation marks, really.

This is intented to begin approximately three weeks after the events of "Crashed."

"Ray?" Not fully awake, Fraser ran his hand down the other side of the bed and then across "Ray?" Not fully awake, Fraser ran his hand down the other side of the bed and then across the pillow next to him. "Ray?" He turned over suddenly, sat up, and turned on the lamp by the bed. He rubbed his hands down his face and tried to remember a night in the past few weeks when he had not had this experience, but he could not remember one. The feeling of newness and shock always followed as soon as he was awake enough to realize no one else was there. It was almost as bad as the dreams, but not quite. He could see everything clearly in the dreams. In his dreams all the passengers knew the explosion was coming, they all felt it. He would not be able to sleep for a few hours now, that was part of the pattern. He had noticed the pattern several days ago, but he could not break it.

He got up and walked down the hall to Emily's room and sat in the chair across from the bed. He could see everything in the room with the closet light on. She had never been afraid of the dark before, now she refused to sleep without a light, or without Dief, who now slept in the bed with her. Fraser had always thought it was odd that she looked nothing like her mother, apart from the hair. Everything about her was Ray, or at least Vecchio. He thought at times she looked like Francesca, except for her exceptionally large green eyes, but Francesca looked like Ray too. He stood and walked to the book shelves next to the window. Photographs. Each time he looked at them, he felt the same immediate urge he felt when he walked past his own dresser, he wanted to reach out and scrape them all off onto the floor in one movement. He knew there was no reason for anger, but it never seemed to leave him completely. Being angry at something random was irrational. He knew that. Was it random? Maybe not, but he could not have that answer now, the investigation would continue for months. It was random as far as Ray was concerned, as far as it concerned him.

He looked back at Emily. Mrs. Vecchio would take her to church in a few hours. Ray had always liked the idea, but he was beginning to hate it. He was not certain why, only that he did not want her to go again. It involved belief in something beyond the random and he had come to dislike that idea, but apart from that, he was uncertain why he felt strongly that she should stop going. He was not willing to disagree with the Vecchios over it, or anything else. Despite all of Ray's legal precautions, he was not willing to argue with Ray's family at all. That was another of those things he realized was irrational. None of them had ever given him a reason to feel threatened, they always asked his permission for everything involving Emily. But he was afraid he could not win if they ever decided they wanted Emily, even though they would have been going against Ray's wishes in trying to take her. He could not lose anyone else. She could go to church and he would be silent on that issue.

He looked out the window and noticed someone standing across the street, facing the house. He stood and watched for a while, the man had not moved. He seemed to be watching the house. Fraser walked to the closet, turned off the light, then looked out again. The man moved away from the curb and walked down the street, he had a dog with him. Walking a dog at three in the morning? Why not, he thought, he was staring out the window at three in the morning.

Fraser had never felt completely comfortable with the increased numbers of Vecchios who occupied the house on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. Recently, he had been even more uncomfortable. The usual occupants did not bother him, it was their house after all, he just lived there. However, other relatives, Vecchio cousins, aunts, uncles, and some with relationships unknown to Fraser seemed to appear on weekends, especially the past few weekends. They must have thought they were being helpful, or maybe they thought it was an obligation. Some he thought had only tolerated him in the past, had suddenly become aggressively sympathetic. After the last hug and sympathetic pat on the cheek from an elderly Vecchio aunt who apparently had only come to understand who he was since the memorial service, he escaped into the kitchen. He found Maria and Anna. Emily sat quietly on the floor playing with Dief.

Mrs. Vecchio looked at him and smiled. "Benton, why don't you take Emily to the park? You look as if you could use some air."

Emily jumped up suddenly followed by Dief. "Yes!"

He looked back at Mrs. Vecchio and shook his head. "Wouldn't that be rude?"

"No, Benton. These people are here every weekend lately. If anyone notices, I'll take care of it. Don't worry. You can go out the back door. Come home around six, I should have them out of here by then."

"Before, if we're lucky," Maria frowned and handed him a glass of water. "Ma's right, Benton. Get out for a while. We will find a way to get rid of them."

"Thank you." Fraser looked at the kitchen door. "I have to get . . ."

"No you don't. I've already done it." Mrs. Vecchio put the keys to the Riv in the hand that wasn't holding the glass. He smiled finally, put the glass on the counter, picked Emily up, and walked out the back door toward the Riv with Dief following.

He sat on a bench watching Emily and Dief. He noticed a tall, blond woman walking toward him. She stopped for a few seconds and looked at him before speaking. "I'm sorry. I think I know you."

He stood and tried to find a polite way to escape. "No ma'am, I don't think so. Please excuse me."

Before he could walk away, she put her hand on his arm. "Please wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." She looked at him again, more closely, and he noticed she looked tired and stressed. "I think I saw you - - at the airport. I did, didn't I? You were - - you were there too." She stopped speaking suddenly and he saw tears. He tried to look away.

"Yes." He had no idea what to do. He wanted to run, but that seemed inappropriate. He thought he remembered her now, but he was not certain. He could not remember much from that afternoon. He had to do something, he could not stand and stare at her. He had not met any of the other families and he had not been ready for this. He looked back at the bench. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Thank you." They introduced themselves, then sat staring into space for a few minutes. Eventually she spoke again. "She's your daughter? The little girl with the dog?"

"He's a wo . . ." He caught himself and decided not to explain. "Yes."

He could feel her looking at him, but he continued watching Emily. He wondered what to say to this woman and why she wanted to talk to him. Why couldn't he work up the energy to be interested? He usually at least managed polite interest. He looked at her briefly. "I'm sorry, I don't remember you. I can't - - I really don't remember very much of - - ah - - that day."

She continued looking at him, with the tears still in her eyes. "I remember you because you asked for the passenger list. I'm not sure why I remember that. It's weird." She continued looking at him. "Who?"

"I'm sorry. What?" He turned to look at her again.

"Who? Your wife?"

He realized what she meant and looked away. "No."

She continued watching him. "Your lover?" He nodded, but did not look at her again. She spoke, but this time her voice was shaking. "How long were you together? I was married five years. Or, I would have been last week. I have two children. I'm sorry. I can tell you don't want to do this, but I haven't seen anyone else from - - then. And my family tries, but they don't understand and they're driving me a little crazy. I have bad dreams." She stopped suddenly, she was crying.

He looked at her. He had to say something, but revelations to total strangers did not appeal to him. "I have bad dreams too. When I sleep." He wiped his eyes and looked away at Emily again.

"They have counselors, you know?"

"I know. I don't want to do that." He looked away from Emily and back to her. She had stopped crying somewhat.

"Neither do I. They called me. So did a lawyer." She looked at the ground and took a deep breath before asking, "Do you watch the news?"

"Not much. Not now. We don't like to turn on the television. I don't want her to - - we usually watch videos."

She continued staring at the ground. "Yeah. I unplugged the television - - I mean, for when I'm not home." She looked at him again and then asked abruptly, "Do you believe what they are saying? Do you think it was a bomb?"

He jumped, then turned and looked at her. "The investigation isn't over."

"Mr. Fraser, do you think it was a bomb?"

"Perhaps. But, what difference will it make?" He hadn't intended to sound harsh, but he had. "I'm sorry. I wasn't prepared for that. I didn't mean to . . ."

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Thank you for talking to me." She walked away before he could say anything.

Fraser had difficulty shaking the events of the afternoon. When he and Emily returned, the assorted relatives were gone, as Mrs. Vecchio had said. She stopped him as he walked in the kitchen door. "Benton, while you were gone Lieutenant Welsh called. He said he would be unavailable for the rest of the evening, but he wanted to know if you would meet him in his office in the morning at nine. I told him you haven't been back to work yet and that I didn't think . . ." She looked at Emily, then back at Fraser. "That I didn't think this was the best time, but he said it was important. He wouldn't tell me what he wanted, just that he needed to speak to you."

Fraser was confused. "That is fine, Anna. I'll speak to him in the morning. Thank you."

She looked at him more closely. "You look tired, Benton. Are you feeling okay?"

He smiled. "I'm fine. Thank you. Maybe a little tired." He wasn't going to tell her about his conversation. He did not think either of them could handle it.

She patted his cheek. "All right, Benton. It's almost time for dinner. Both of you should get cleaned up."

After dinner, Fraser walked upstairs with Emily and sat in the chair by her bed. She had been unusually quiet since they returned, but she had been unusually quiet for weeks. It was difficult to determine what was usual now. She walked to the book shelf and pulled down one of her favorites. Fraser recognized it as one she had memorized.

She climbed into his lap and opened to book. Apparently he was going to read it. He looked at her and almost laughed. "I assume we are going to read this one?"

"Yes." She wriggled, looking for a comfortable spot. "This is Dief's favorite. He knows all of it."

He smiled. "It is Diefenbaker's favorite? I didn't know he had one. He hasn't mentioned it before. Are there any others he likes?"

"No, just this one. And the one about the green eggs. He likes that one too. He's never had green eggs before." She looked at him and frowned. "They don't really have those, do they?"

"I've never seen any." He put a hand in her hair. "We will read this one, but you should brush your teeth and get ready for bed first."

"I don't want to. I'm tired." She squirmed some more.

"Emily, I know you are tired. That is why I said you should get ready for bed first. When you get back, we will read." He put her on the floor and she walked away frowning.

She returned a few minutes later, dressed for bed, and climbed into his lap again. She looked at him and smiled. "I did brush my teeth. Do you want to smell?"

He laughed. "No, I trust you. Besides, I can see the toothpaste on your fingers." He pulled up two of her long, thin fingers and showed her the toothpaste. She rolled her eyes and immediately put both fingers in her mouth and removed the toothpaste, then wiped her fingers on his shirt. He resisted the urge to laugh at her actions and asked, "Are you ready now?"

"Almost." She wriggled again, looking for a spot. When she found it, she looked at him, reached up and pulled the hair on his face. "Papa, I don't like that. You're scratchy. Why do you always have that?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I shave sometimes. Just not everyday."

"Why not?"

He absently twisted one of her curls. "I don't know. Sometimes I don't think about it and sometimes I am too tired."

She frowned. "You never did that before. You were never too tired before. Why are you too tired now?"

He tried to think of an answer before she found another question. "I've just been tired lately. If it bothers you, I'll try to remember to shave tomorrow. Okay?" He smiled at her, hoping that would satisfy her.

She sat up and stared at him. Her eyes narrowed slightly. He almost jumped when he saw the look on her face and realized how many times he had seen it, but not on her. "When is Daddy coming back?"

He felt sick. She hadn't asked that in several days. He looked away, trying to keep from crying. It wasn't going to work. He thought about putting her down and leaving, but he was afraid that would upset her more. He started to respond, but he couldn't get it out. "Emily, I thought you understood . . ."

She did not let him finish. "I know what you said before, but it's been a long time and I want Daddy to come back now. Why did he leave? My friend Britty's daddy left and he still comes back sometimes. What did we do wrong? Why doesn't he love us anymore?"

Fraser wiped at his tears, but they wouldn't stop. "Britty's parents are divorced, that isn't the same. Her daddy can come back, yours can't. He would if he could. He isn't - - here anymore. He did not leave because he wanted to, he didn't have a choice. We didn't do anything wrong and he never stopped loving us. We've talked about this before. Don't you remember?" He could not stop the tears any longer.

"I know, but I want him to come back. Don't you want him to come back?"

"Yes. I want him to come back. Sometimes I can't think of anything else. But, I can't make that happen. I would if I could, just like Ray would come back if he could. I'm sorry, Emily." He wiped his face with his sleeve, but it didn't help.

"Please don't cry, I didn't mean to make you cry. I won't do it again. I'm sorry." She pressed her face into his chest and sobbed.

"It's not your fault. You didn't make me cry. I do it a lot now, you just haven't seen it before. But you will probably see it again because I can't always stop it. I couldn't cry at first, but it's normal to cry when you miss someone you love and you shouldn't be afraid of it when it happens. Okay?" She nodded and they sat for several minutes. When she had recovered enough to pull away and look at him, he smiled. "Should we try to read now?"

"Yes." She found a comfortable spot, he cleared his throat and began. She was asleep before he finished, but he sat watching her for almost an hour before putting her in bed. He looked at her long dark eyelashes and her fingers, it was amazing. She was even younger than he had been when his mother died. Her life would not be like his. He could not bring her father back, but he could prevent her from having a childhood like his.

Fraser sat in the bedroom trying to read his one of his own books, but he could not concentrate. He could feel it, again. He looked up, but he didn't see anything. Maybe he really was unstable, he was beginning to wonder. It seemed real. He would try again, he always tried.

"Ray?" There was no answer. "Ray? Are you here? Please." Still no answer. He turned over on the bed and cried.

Fraser walked into the kitchen the next morning and found Emily already eating breakfast and Dief sitting next to her chair with what looked like a raspberry jam hand print on the top of his head. Mrs. Vecchio gave him breakfast and he took a few bites before leaving it. Emily looked at him with interest.

"It's gone."

"What is gone, Emily?" He looked at her in confusion.

"Your fur. I didn't like it. It was scratchy and ugly." She went back to her breakfast and offered Dief a bite of toast, which he happily took.

"I told you I would try to remember." He smiled at her. At least she got to the point, he thought.

Mrs. Vecchio watched the exchange. She had been tempted to tell Emily not to be rude to her father, but Benton had not seemed to object to Emily's comments. Apparently, there had been some previous discussion between them she knew nothing about and she did not want to interfere. Emily was Benton's child and if she interfered too much, she was afraid he might decide to move. He had the right to do so if he wanted, of course, but she hoped they would stay permanently. She wanted to keep all of her grandchildren with her, but Emily reminded her of Raimondo. She would make a point of not annoying Benton by interfering.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"When will I be five?" She offered Dief a spoonful of raspberry jam and her grandmother quickly removed the rest before she could get another one.

"Next week. On Thursday. You've asked this several times, Emily. Don't you remember?" He smiled at her again, then leaned over to look at Dief's head. Definitely a hand print, he thought.

"I thought I did." She frowned and he began to dread what the next question might be. "Don't I get a birthday party? My friends all have birthday parties."

Fraser and Mrs.Vecchio looked at each other. They had not remembered. "Of course if you want one. What did you want to do?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I want to go to that place. Like everyone else."

He looked at her and then back to Anna. Her grandmother spoke first. "I think she means the place her friends have gone, the one with the games. Yes, Emily?"

"Yes."

Fraser nodded. "Yes. Of course. If that's what you want."

Mrs. Vecchio looked at him. "I'll do it, Benton. I will let you know when I've scheduled it. If that's all right with you?"

He smiled at her, relieved, "Thank you."

"Benton, I don't want you to feel rushed, but . . ."

"Oh, yes. Thank you, I hadn't thought about the time." He stood to leave and Emily looked at him, her eyes slightly narrowed. He recognized the look again and rubbed his hands down his face. Please not now, he thought. I can't handle it now.

"Are you going to work? You never go there anymore. I don't want you to." She continued staring at him, but she was beginning to look upset.

He sat back in the chair next to hers and looked at her. "No, I'm not going to work. I have to talk to someone this morning, but I don't think it will take very long." He continued watching her, she was going to cry. Please not now.

"Don't go. I don't want you to." She started crying.

"Emily, I won't be gone long. I don't have a choice. Please."

"I don't want you to go. You won't come back."

Oh. What was he going to do? He couldn't fall apart right here. "I will be back, I promise."

Mrs. Vecchio had been watching, uncertain what to do. Finally, she decided he needed a way out. "Emily, he will be back. Stop crying." She picked her up and moved toward the door. Fraser stood as well. "We'll watch a video, until he gets back. I'll stay with you until then. Everything will be fine." She opened the door into the other room as Fraser walked toward the door to the driveway. He heard Emily screaming as he left and wished he could do the same.

Fraser knew he was not prepared to talk to the lieutenant, or to see any of the people he had worked with unofficially until a few weeks ago. Elaine and Huey seemed pleased to see him, but it had been awkward for all of them. After a few minutes, he found himself in Welsh's office standing in front of the desk, which seemed to him both entirely normal and entirely strange. If things were normal, Ray would have been there too.

"You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?"

Welsh looked at him for a few moments and then opened a file on his desk. "Yes, Constable. Please sit down. There is something we need to discuss." Fraser sat and Welsh continued looking down at the file for a moment, before looking at Fraser. "I'm sorry, Fraser. Mrs. Vecchio told me you were not - - she had asked me to wait until another time to talk to you, but it can't wait any longer. I've been putting it off and now I need to tell you what is happening. I am sorry."

Fraser raised his eyebrows. "I don't understand, sir. Tell me what, exactly?"

Welsh sighed. "Fraser, the day before the plane crash, there was a transfer of prisoners from one facility to another and, during the process, one of them escaped. We heard about - - Ray - - before we learned about the escape. It never seemed appropriate to tell you and there have not been any problems, but I think you need to know for your own benefit. The Department initially believed you and Ray would be possible targets." He handed Fraser the file.

Fraser stared at the stack of information in his lap and began to feel angry. "Sir, why did you wait to tell me? This happened a day before Ray - - before Ray died." He looked back down and then at Welsh again. "Is it possible this was the cause of the plane crash?"

"No, Fraser it is not possible. Assuming it was a bomb, and the investigation isn't finished yet, it would have taken longer than a day for Ray to have been located and for a bomb to have been made and placed on the plane. You know that. I didn't tell you sooner because I didn't want to add to your problems. But, we've been watching the Vecchio house, and you, ever since. You caught us Sunday morning and I wanted to let you know in case it happened again, and so you could be careful. It looks as if nothing is going to happen, but we thought you should know."

Fraser was having difficulty controlling his anger. "Has anyone found anything?"

"No, Fraser, so far no one has seen anything at all. If there is an arrest we will let you know immediately. I am sorry." Welsh stood and so did Fraser.

"I will have to tell the Vecchios."

"I thought you would. And we will continue watching the house for now. If anything changes, I will let you know."

"What about Emily?" Fraser still managed to contain his anger.

"There's no reason to think . . . "

"No reason to think Ray 's family would be threatened? Why not? I see no reason to think they would not be threatened."

"Nothing has happened, Fraser. At this point I doubt if anything will happen. I just thought you should know."

Fraser could think of nothing else to say. "Thank you, lieutenant." He left.

Fraser spent the drive home wondering if Welsh really believed the plane crash was not related to the escape. Probably so, he assumed. The lieutenant had been correct in assuming there would not have been enough time, unless there had been some assistance from someone else. Fraser had thought it made very little difference what had caused the crash, it had mattered only that Ray was gone and he was alone - - with a small child. But, now he needed to know what caused the crash and it would take months for the investigation to be completed. He would have to find a way around that. Was it possible the goal had been to murder Ray and the fourteen other people had been in the way? Fraser's anger was increasing rapidly. He arrived in front of the house and sat in the car for several minutes trying to calm himself enough to go inside. He couldn't stay out here very long, he had left Emily screaming and afraid he wouldn't be back. Like Ray would not be back. He needed to cry again, but he did not want to go inside visibly upset. He opened the door and walked toward the house.

Emily had apparently heard the front door open and had abandoned her grandmother in front of the television. He noticed a small dark haired blur, followed by a white one, just before he felt her smash into his knees. He lifted her and looked at her face. He realized, when he got a closer look, that she had only recently stopped crying.

"You came back. Don't leave again. Okay?"

"I told you I would be back, Emily. I have no reason to go anywhere else right away. Don't worry. Please." He pushed several curls off her face where they had become stuck, apparently while she was crying. Mrs. Vecchio came around the corner and he looked at him.

"Is something wrong, Benton?"

"Not at the moment, but I need to talk to you about - - an old case. Someone escaped and the lieutenant feels it would be best to have someone watching us for now. Nothing has happened and he doesn't think there will be any problems. I will tell you the rest later."

"Who is watching us?" Emily had become curious.

"The Chicago Police will be driving by the house for a few days, Emily. That's all. Nothing to worry about." He brushed at the curls again.

"Oh." She had apparently lost interest. "Will you come watch something with me now?"

Mrs. Vecchio stood and stared at him. It was obvious she believed there was reason to worry. He wondered how much he would be willing to tell her. He did not want to discuss his questions about the crash, with her or anyone else. He looked at Emily again. "Yes. Choose something and I will be there in a few minutes. But, don't turn the television on until I get there, all right?"

Her grandmother watched as he put her on the floor. "She can't turn it on, Benton. I always make sure it won't turn on."

"Thank you, Anna."

"I'll be there in a few minutes, Emily."

She curled her fingers in Dief's fur and hesitated. "Do you promise?"

"Yes, I promise. Give me a few minutes and then I will watch with you."

"Okay." She left with Dief following her and he walked toward the kitchen with Mrs. Vecchio.