Author's disclaimer: I don't own the guys, I just like to take them out and play with them for a while.

Author's notes: Comments are always welcomed.

The Death of Armondo Langostini
by: Jenny Hill

Even though it happened a thousand or maybe even two thousand miles away, the news traveled quickly over the wire but then again, news of this magnitude never remained quiet for very long. Everyone at the 27th Precinct of the Chicago PD heard about it and were already gossiping about the details, known and unknown. Some members of the precinct were celebrating in their own small way over yet another ruthless criminal being taken down permanently.

Out of everyone at the precinct, there was only a small handful of people who truly understood the meaning behind the words being read by the newsman on the small mounted television screen. The Lieutenant turned to the detective know as Ray Vecchio and said grimly, "You better get to Fraser, now."

It was wishful thinking on the detective's part, hoping that no one at the Canadian consulate had heard the news yet. He wanted to be the one to tell Fraser but that didn't happen. The detective arrived at the consulate only minutes after the order had been given by his commanding officer. He committed numerous traffic violations en route in order to get there as quickly as possible, yet the ride over in the classic automobile seemed to take forever. He didn't know what to expect when he entered the building but seeing an extremely nervous Inspector told him that they had already heard the news and the situation wasn't looking good.

"I take it you heard," the detective voiced his assumption as he entered the front hallway.

"Yes Detective, I heard about it this morning on my way into work. I informed Constable Fraser of the incident as well," Inspector Thatcher said as she lead the way to Fraser's rear office. "He's been in a stupor ever since." When the Inspector opened Fraser's office door, the sight that greeted them startled the detective.

Fraser was seated on the floor of his office opposite his desk. His legs were stretched out in front of him, his tunic was unbuttoned (half on and half off) and he was staring at nothing. Fraser was staring at nothing particular, just zoning in a world of his own. The only movement he made was the constant stroking of the fur on the back of Diefenbaker's neck, who sat guard next to the vulnerable Mountie.

"Detective, I suggest you take him home or anywhere but here, just get him out of here. He is in no condition for work and tell him not to report back until he has recovered." Inspector Thatcher turned and exited the office before he could even accept her command. The words she used would've sounded harsh to an outside observer but he knew she meant well in the best way she could. It wasn't every day she gave the Mountie time off like that.

"Hey Frase . . . can you hear me?" Stan Kowalski asked as he waived a hand in front of his partner's face. There was no response forth coming from the dazed man and his wolf began to whimper. "It'll be okay Dief . . . I hope." Stan reached down, lifted one of Fraser's arms and proceeded to move him to an upright standing position. "Come on Frase, I think we need to get you out of here."

Fraser allowed himself to be moved and once he was standing, he turned towards his friend and asked, "Where are we going Ray?"

Stan finished buttoning up the tunic then grabbed Fraser's Stetson as he answered, "The only place you belong right now buddy."

Fraser nodded his head without saying a word and Stan began leading the way out of Fraser's office. Inspector Thatcher and Constable Turnbull could only watch in silence as the strongest Mountie that either of them had the pleasure to work with was lead out of the consulate, a broken man.

It was happening again or at least it seemed like it was happening again. He couldn't tell the difference anymore, between his dreams and reality. This time he found himself standing on one side of an unnamed street watching as his best friend walked towards the classic green car, away from where he was standing. It still shined as brilliantly as the first day he saw the beast. It seemed like a decade had passed since he had last seen that car and it's owner. Could it have only been a year?

His best friend was walking away, leaving him frozen in time; unable to move; unable to voice a word of protest. He felt an urgency to stop his friend's retreat but was powerless to prevent it. All he could do was stand and watch as the keys to that beautiful green Buick Riviera were pulled out, slipped into the lock and the door was then opened.

It was the loud rumble accompanying the warm flash of light that startled Fraser to his senses. Fraser sat up screaming his friend's name while trying to get his bearings as to where he was and why he was there. He could still hear the rumbling of thunder rolling across the sky.

The vision of his best friend, Ray Vecchio, walking towards his beloved Riv replayed in Fraser's mind. He was seeing the images as if they were being played out before his very eyes: Ray approaching the driver's side door; Ray unlocking the door; Ray opening the door just to have the entire vehicle along with himself engulfed in flames.

Fraser shook his head violently in an effort to rid himself of those images. That happened a year and a half ago but it wasn't his best friend who was killed, rather, Ray's co-worker Louis Gardino. It was a senseless death that was a result of a mob war involving Ray's childhood rival Frank Zuko. Yes it was Gardino not Ray. Fraser finally remembered where he was when he heard the gentle knock on the bedroom door as it opened.

"Benton?" Mrs. Vecchio called as she entered the room where he had taken his refuge for the past week. "Benton, are you all right? I heard you shouting." Mrs. Vecchio approached the bed Fraser was in and the Mountie, best friend of her son, was trembling. "Oh Caro, there, there," Mrs. Vecchio sat down next to him and wrapped her motherly arms around the frightened child in her son's bed.

Her embrace wasn't returned but she continued to comfort the lost soul. Fraser hadn't felt this helpless since his father's death. Was that three years ago or four? Time seemed to run together anymore.

Even though she was a grieving mother herself, Mrs. Vecchio still had comforting words for her adopted Canadian son. "Caro, my Raymondo cared about you very much. He never wanted anyone or anything to hurt you. He knew this assignment would do just that but his hands were ties and there was nothing he could do about it. Your friendship was very important to him. I even think it scared him at times."

Fraser pulled away from the older woman and she could see the confusion written on his face. "Scared him . . . I don't understand."

Mrs. Vecchio took hold of Fraser's hand as she continued. "You two were so close . . . closer that he had been with anyone in a long time."

"He's my best friend," Fraser stated as if she didn't already know that fact.

Mrs. Vecchio smiled at his words and the tenderness used to say them. "Yes, I know. The only other person he was ever that close to was Angela, and he married her."

"Mrs. Vecchio . . ."

"Shhh, let me finish dear." She took a deep breath before she could continue. "My Raymondo, he was a good man and a very complex man too. You both are very complex men who couldn't see your nose in front of your face even with a mirror." Fraser arched an eyebrow at her comment. "I think you and I are the only two people who truly understood him and yet there are still recesses I don't know about or understand."

"I thought I understood him as well as I understood myself but I don't think I ever did." Fraser looked at Mrs. Vecchio and he could see the sadness in her eyes. It was the same sadness he felt in his heart and he could only admire her for her strength. "Why was he willing to risk his life like that?"

Mrs. Vecchio shook her head. "I don't know Caro. I do know he probably had no idea the assignment would end this way. I also know that my Raymondo loved you very much and I'm sorry it took his death for you to hear that." The look on Fraser's face was that of a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car. He never expected to hear those words come from Ray let alone his mother. Mrs. Vecchio continued, "I know you loved him too but there was nothing I could do to get him to admit his true feelings to you Caro." Fraser nodded his head in understanding as tears began to slide down his face. "Please forgive me."

Fraser was shaking his head now, astonished at the thought that she believed she needed forgiveness. "There is nothing to forgive. Our punishment is our ignorance. We were both really stubborn men and there was nothing you could do." Mrs. Vecchio turned her head away in an effort to stifle her tears but it was an impossible task. "Mrs. Vecchio, I'm so sorry . . . I should be worrying about you not myself. You are the one who lost a son," and that comment made Mrs. Vecchio cry and Fraser pulled the mourning mother into his arms.

Once he had Ray's mother calmed down and back in her own bedroom, Fraser returned to Ray's room but only for a moment. He couldn't remain in Ray's room or Ray's house without being reminded of the friend he lost. Fraser had to get out before he truly lost it in front of a family he tried so hard to remain strong for. If he could just get away, go back to his father's cabin, there he could mend his broken heart along with his father's dilapidated cabin. He could work his frustrations out on the hard labor needed to reconstruct it to all its glory and hopefully when he was done, he would understand what he was feeling and thinking and be able to move on and live again.

A note and a spoiled wolf were the only things left behind in the Vecchio home from the Mountie that morning. He couldn't tell them in person because he knew they would just talk him out of the isolation his mind truly needed. But there was more left behind, something Fraser didn't even realize he was leaving. Also left behind was an emptiness in all the hearts and lives he affected. For some, he was the final link to the life lost and now, even he was leaving them behind.

It was late (or early, depending on how one looked at it) 3:00am, when he received the call and he was surprised to hear the Mountie on the other end but not surprised by his request. Stan had been expecting this, the retreat of his friend, leaving to lick his wounds. They were wounds so deep, he wasn't even sure Fraser knew how deep they truly ran or if they were even there. It had been a full week since they learned of the death of Armondo Langostini a.k.a. Ray Vecchio and he had yet to see the Mountie, best friend of the deceased, cry.

Stan himself had even been a little teary-eyed at the news and he had never met the guy but they were tears being shed for his friend and partner's loss. He knew what it was like to lose someone close. Granted, Stella was still alive and well but the pain he felt then, at their separation, was equal to as if she had died for he still loved her to this day and probably always would.

Fraser sat next to him in the car motionless, like a statue. It hadn't taken long for Fraser to pack and he had insisted that Stan remain in the car as he retrieved his belongings from his office. Once he was back in the classic GTO, Fraser took up his unresponsive state. No words were spoken but Stan knew where they were headed. He pulled out onto the deserted street and headed towards the train station.

Stan accompanied Fraser into the station just to make sure he made it to his train safe and sound. Also, Fraser's train wasn't scheduled to leave for another half an hour and Stan didn't want to leave him alone for that time span. It was going to be hard enough for the guy to spend the next couple hours alone on his trip to Moosejaw. Stan felt he could at least supply Fraser with a little company and companionship until then.

Fraser sat down in one of the many empty chairs and placed his pack on the floor in front of him. Stan was shocked at the idea that all Fraser needed was contained in that one small pack but the guy obviously didn't really have all that much in the first place if all he owned fit in his office.

The silence of his friend was unnerving so Stan decided he was going to have to start their conversation or go nuts himself. "Fraser?" The name was said as unsure as the man who spoke it and all Fraser did to acknowledge his friend was turn his head and look at him. Fraser wasn't even sure what he was doing anymore.

"Fraser, I don't know what to say." Stan felt he was losing his friend. Fraser was usually such a talkative person but since the news of his best friend's death, Fraser shut everyone out, even the wolf.

"There is nothing to say." Fraser returned his stare towards the floor.

"I'm sorry things turned out the way they did . . . man I didn't even see this coming. I thought for sure he'd come back, safe and sound and I would be the one lost and alone." There was no response from Fraser. "Come on man, talk to me . . . it's not good for you to keep this all bottled up. It's been a week and you haven't really talk about it."

Keeping eye contact with the floor, Fraser began, "Do you realize the last time Ray and I were here was the day he shot me?" Stan remained silent not wanting to interrupt his friend in fear he wouldn't continue. This venting was something Fraser needed desperately even if he didn't realize it himself. "The last time I was here, when I returned from my last holiday, I didn't even think about it. He was originally suppose to pick me up but I wasn't expecting him since he told me in our last phone conversation the day before that he couldn't. I thought I'd see him later though, once I got into town. I didn't realize our phone conversation the day before would be the last time I would talk to him. I didn't realize that two weeks prior to that would be the last time I would see him. I've lost my mother, my father, my grandparents and now my best friend. I never thought of my life as being unfair until now."

"Fraser, that's just life, there's nothing we can do about it," Stan reasoned.

Fraser continued as if he hadn't even heard Stan. "When Ray shot me . . . I couldn't believe it happened. I know he wasn't aiming at me but rather . . . What I couldn't believe was what I had done and what I was about to do." Fraser turned to look at Stan. "I betrayed him . . . I was running away with her, jumping bail, leaving Ray to take the blame for everything. He could have lost it all if it wasn't for that bullet." Fraser buried his head in his hands. "I could never understand why he stood by me after that or why he forgave me. I didn't deserve it but he gave it to me. I didn't understand until this evening . . ." Fraser trailed off feeling emotionally trained.

This time Stan looked away, realizing what Fraser was referring to. It was an aspect of the Fraser/Vecchio friendship he had always wondered about but was the type of question you just didn't come out and ask a guy about. He had never met the man he was pretending to be but he knew that there was more to their relationship than just the normal brotherly love. Stan cleared his throat before speaking. "He forgave you because he loved you." Fraser could only nod his head to respond as he tried to control his emotions. "And, you loved him too but neither of you told each other, huh?" Now Fraser's sobs were released and for the first time since hearing of his friend's death, Fraser cried. Stan leaned closer to his friend and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Fraser, it'll be all right . . . you'll get through this, it's just gonna take some time."

As Fraser's sobs subsided, he began to speak again. "I can't help but ask myself why, why is it I never told him how I felt? Why couldn't I tell him I loved him?"

"Because you always believed there would be a tomorrow or a next day and unfortunately life has this way of taking that away from us before we realize the importance of saying what needs to be said." Oddly, Stan was being the logical one and that was something Fraser needed.

The train wasn't the most efficient way to travel but it was the transportation of choice by the Mountie. The time it would take to get to his first destination would allot him a time to grieve. How he had made it this far without totally losing it in front of Ray's family was beyond his understanding. He had barely managed to hide his grief from Mrs. Vecchio. It seemed like only yesterday he was annoying his best friend to no end and oddly, it would seem Ray enjoyed that aspect of their relationship just as much as he loathed it but he never would have admitted to it, never.

Was it really nearly four years ago that he walked into the Chicago Detective's life, saving his hide from Internal Affairs in one breath and then nearly getting him killed with the next by tripping a wire in the apartment of his father's killer? Time surely seemed to fly by.

It felt like he had known Ray forever and then even longer if that was possible. Ray had accepted Fraser for who he was and welcomed him into the fold of his family with no questions asked or strings attached. Fraser accepted the gracious offer and became eternally grateful for the friendship that sprouted from their chance meeting in the holding cells of Chicago's 27th Precinct. What he didn't expect was to fall in love with his best friend.

The two were so much a part of each other's lives that Fraser didn't even see the change until it was too late; too late to keep it from happening and too late to do anything about it. By the time Fraser realized how he had felt towards his best friend and partner, he was away on vacation and Ray was leaving for the assignment that had brought Fraser to this point.

Fraser sighed as he leaned back against his seat, listening to the rumbling of the train rolling across the tracks. He was exhausted and yet he couldn't let himself fall asleep. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw Ray. He saw Ray huddled in the frozen carcass of a horse with his Stetson perched on top of his head, trying to keep warm. He saw Ray admiring his own hair in a diner napkin holder. He saw Ray sleeping in the Riv. He saw the look on Ray's face after he had shot him (that was a look he would never let himself forget). Fraser could even envision Ray in ways he had never seen him before. He could envision what Ray would look like after being kissed. What his body would look like sprawled across his bed. What he would look like after they committed their bodies to one another. They were all visions he couldn't bear seeing for they all reminded him of what he lost.

Fraser had been able to get through his mother's death for he was only a six-year-old boy. At this point, he couldn't even remember the details surrounding his own mother's death. All he could remember was the feeling of abandonment left where her love had filled his heart.

He was older when his grandparents died, in his twenties but their deaths didn't effect him nearly as intensely as his mother's. They were older and it was their time to pass. In addition, he had been in training since his graduation from high school and after becoming a member of the R.C.M.P. there were numerous postings far too remote for him to make frequent visits with his family. He had separated the ties that would have pulled him down with their deaths.

His father's death was hard to take because it was so unexpected but it still didn't impact him the way his mother's death did. With his father, the realization of what he had missed out on was his main reaction. Robert Fraser was a great man, Fraser knew that but he didn't have the chance to know Robert Fraser, the father. A Mountie's life is never easy and makes father-son bonding hard. When you add two Mountie's to the picture, father-son bonding is near impossible.

He didn't believe anything would effect him as profoundly as his mother's passing did until now. With Ray's death, he lost his best friend, his family, a possible lover and his life. Fraser couldn't imagine a life without Ray. Sure he had existed all this time with Ray gone on the assignment but it was with the knowledge that Ray would return eventually. Now, it felt like the rug had been ripped out from underneath him and he was floundering for stable ground.

Fraser sighed again as he watched the scenery flying by. A life without Ray wasn't a life at all. The future wasn't worth planning. All he knew was he was heading to an old friend's village and then home.

Fraser was accepted into the village as if he belonged and never had left. Oddly enough, they were expecting him. Everyone was happy to see the Mountie but under the circumstances, their cheer didn't last long. It was easy to see he was in a state of mourning and when Eric lead him away from the crowd of people who he once considered his family, Fraser was grateful and they all understood.

Once Eric had his friend settled in his abode, a potent herbal tea was administered that rendered Fraser into a much needed and deep sleep.

The images were as vivid as reality but this time it was like he was getting a glimpse of what really happened to the impostor Armondo Langostini. He could see Ray leaving what would be a luxurious house somewhere in the Las Vegas desert. Ray looked so beautiful in his tailored suit, as he always did. Armani looked good on Ray. As Fraser was admiring Ray, a sound like firecrackers started popping from behind him and when Fraser turned to see where the noise was coming from, there was no one around for miles. Turning his attention back to his best friend, Fraser was horrified by the sight of Ray's crumpled, bloodied body on the ground.

The vision had Fraser rocketing out of his sleep. He was breathing hard and didn't notice the person that was in the room with him right away. The said person stood by the window and waited until the Mountie calmed down before he said a word.

As Fraser's breathing evened out, he began to pan the room. He could sense the presence of the person with him. When he made eye contact with his visitor, he grimaced as he watched his friend completing his task by the window.

"Hey Mountie, I think you may need this more than me," Eric said as he pointed to the dream catcher now hanging in the room's window.

Fraser nodded his head as he rubbed his eyes. "Thank you Eric but I doubt it will help me very much."

Eric moved away from the window, crossing the room to sit on the bed. "They are that bad?"

Fraser nodded again. "You don't understand the half of it."

Eric had never seen this man look so defeated in his life and he had known Fraser for quite awhile. Although he didn't know him when his mother died, he was there through his grandparent's deaths and his father's murder. Never had Fraser ever lost hope as he had now. "I would like to understand."

Fraser sighed as he brought his knees up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "Eric . . . my life as I knew it is over." Fraser continued explaining all that had happened from his holiday nearly a year ago through his friend's death. Talking about these events made all his wounds hurt and all he wanted to do was curl up in the covers around him and never come out again.

"Fraser, you will go on, just as you did after your grandparents' deaths and your father's murder. You will go on." Eric's words lacked feeling but they always did. He spoke of the facts and nothing else but they were words Fraser needed to hear.

Fraser was now missing the comforting motherly arms that were his shelter from these dreams he continued to have. Those embraces were a blessing these last couple days and there was nothing he could give in return to the mother who was grieving just the same as he. "How can you be so sure of that Eric?"

"I just know." Eric got off the bed and walked over to the bookshelf admiring the nick-knacks he had collected over the years. "Fraser, I know you're headed up to the cabin . . . do you realize when you get there, there will be no work for you to do?"

Fraser sat up straight giving Eric his full attention. "What do you mean?"

Eric turned to face Fraser as he spoke. "Well, about a year ago someone came up here. He was a white man, very stiff suit. He was making arrangements with a few members of the village to have the cabin rebuilt. He said it was a favor to you and the Detective and that we would understand." Fraser sat still on the bed, staring at Eric, shocked by his words. "Seeing everyone here likes you, no one could refuse the man's request. We finished the cabin two months ago."

"Are you saying my cabin's been rebuilt?"

"Yes, I thought my English was quite clear, that is what I'm saying."

"Oh," Fraser was speechless at this point. His plans, the only plans he had the mind to lay out had been scratched by the kindness of a stranger or, as he assumed, the kindness of a one Ray Vecchio.

"I can take you up there if you'd like," Eric offered. "We've had a couple members stay up there just to make sure nothing happens to the structure while you were gone."

"No . . ." Fraser said as he began his climb out of the bed. "I would like to go alone." Fraser started looking for his shoes and when he found them, he added, "today."

Lt. Welsh was pacing in his office, waiting for the arrival of the man posing as Ray Vecchio. It had been a trying week that started with finding out one of his best detectives had been gunned down on duty and ending with this news that he just had the privilege of hearing but ten minutes ago. The Feds had been uncooperative ever since the story broke about Armondo Langostini being gunned down outside his Las Vegas home. The news media had better sources then he did but now that he knew the whole scoop (including information the news media would never hear) he was sick to his stomach.

"Vecchio, get in here!" Lt. Welsh bellowed from his office when he saw the blonde detective arrive for work.

Stan was making a beeline to his desk when he heard the name he had come to know and accept as his own. His body did a one-eighty and he headed directly towards Lt. Welsh's office. "Yeah sir?"

"Sit down detective, we have a situation that needs to be taken care of . . . fast." Lt. Welsh closed his office door after the detective entered and he returned to his desk to being the briefing.

"Does this have to do with Vecchio?" Stan asked.

"Yes, Kowalski, it does."

The sound of his surname startled the young detective. He had almost forgot that was his own name. "Excuse me? Did you just call me by 'my' name?"

"Yes detective, I did. Do you have a problem with that?" Lt. Welsh asked.

"No sir, it's just . . . why?"

"Listen Kowalski, I finally got some answers from the Feds as to what happened and they gave me the thumbs up. The assignment is officially over. You can go back to being you," Lt. Welsh explained, yet the news wasn't as uplifting as it should have been. The assignment should have ended differently than this.

At first the words uttered by the lieutenant were like music to Stan's ears but after a few seconds, realization hit hard. "Over . . . what happens now? Where do I go?" Stan was actually thinking, 'Where do I belong?'

Lt. Welsh cleared his throat before continuing with the information he received from the Feds. The more he dealt with them the more he grew to hate them and he was starting to understand Vecchio's true dislike of that branch of the government. "Right now Detective, you will stay here with the 27th Precinct. But as I said before, there is a situation that needs taken care of before anything else," Lt. Welsh said as he leaned over his desk speaking as if he was about to divulge top secret information and he was. "The contract wasn't out on Armondo Langostini's life but the life of the person impersonating him."

Stan's eyes widened. "Vecchio had a contract out on him?"

"Shhh . . . yes and no," Lt. Welsh continued. "The word is the family didn't actually know who he was but they knew who he wasn't, so they called the hit. "

"Wow . . . poor guy, he didn't stand a chance," Stan commented as he shook his head.

Lt. Welsh got up from his desk to join Stan on the other side. "You don't know the half of it."

"What else could there be?" Stan asked.

Lt. Welsh leaned closer to Stan and began whispering the remaining information he received from the Feds. It was hard for even the Lieutenant to believe but it was true and he knew the man who was previously Ray Vecchio would be shocked as well.

"Oh my God." It was all Stan could say.

He wasn't even concentrating on the drive to his father's cabin or what was his father's cabin, now that an overly generous Chicago detective had revamped it. Fraser had deduced that Ray was the only person who would be so generous to the Mountie. Technically it was now Fraser's cabin and had been since his father's death but he just never thought of it that way. His trip started out at the crack of dawn, before any of the other villagers rose for their morning chores. Eric was the only person who saw him off and Fraser preferred it that way, the fewer people the better. Fraser had wished he could've gotten out before even Eric woke but that was impossible. He was grateful enough that his Inuit friend was letting him go alone on this journey. As the Jeep pulled up over the ridge that looked down over the cabin, the view was breathtaking.

It was just like Ray to make sure the job was done and done right. The new structure was bigger than the original cabin and it was beautiful. There was smoke coming out of the chimney which told Fraser one of the villagers was inside as Eric said would be. The plan Fraser had concocted was to send who ever was staying in the cabin back to the village in the Jeep he had rented and then, he didn't know what he wanted to do.

Die was his first response to the news of his friend's death. He had let Ray down by not being there to help him. Granted he didn't have a choice in the matter but he still had a guilty feeling deep in his heart that he could have helped if he really tried. He not only couldn't keep his friend from dying but Ray died alone. It was a fear Fraser himself had and he could only imagine what was going through Ray's head as his life slowly slipped away.

Fraser wasn't afraid of dying; it was a common occurrence everyday. Everyday someone died whether they deserved it or not. Ray didn't deserve it but he was just caught in the middle of a war no one could control, not the Feds, not Fraser, not Ray, no one. It was like a roller-coaster ride speeding out of control. You don't realize what's happening until it's too late.

Fraser braced himself as he continued the drive to the cabin. The closer he got the better the view became. The cabin had been rebuilt with care; Fraser could see the craftsmanship as he pulled up outside the front entrance. Ray would've been proud of the job he paid for. A tear slipped down Fraser's cheek as he thought about the fact that Ray would never see this.

The sound of an engine outside startled the cabin's occupant and he grabbed his gun as he headed for a safe corner, out of sight. No one was suppose to be near the place. The only people who knew of it were the Inuit Village he himself had traveled from. The cabin couldn't even be seen from the road it was so hidden. The gun he held was aimed at the door and whoever would walk through it.

Fraser exited the Jeep and walked around back to retrieve his belongings he brought. He didn't bring too much, only the basics: change of clothes, a few journals for reading, his Stetson. The Stetson was perched on his head as it always was and with his pack slung over his shoulder, Fraser headed for the door of "his" cabin.

Oddly, at the time, it seemed the right thing to do leaving Diefenbaker in Chicago with the Vecchios but now Fraser was thinking otherwise. He wasn't really sure if he was ever going back to that city. He didn't belong there anymore or at least it didn't feel like he belonged anymore. The only time he did belong was when Ray was there and now that he was gone, there was no reason to return. Fraser knew the Vecchios would take good care of Diefenbaker but he also knew it would be a lonely existence without him in the Territories.

As he entered the cabin the quietness surrounded him. He could barely hear the other person breathing. When he closed the door, Fraser heard a gun being cocked. Clearing his throat he announced himself. "Excuse me, I don't mean you any harm. This is my cabin and you are welcome to stay if it is a place you need but please come out so that I can see you." Fraser set his pack on the ground in front of the door and placed his Stetson on the door peg. He could hear the rustle of clothing from a dark corner of the living room area and then he heard the gun being uncocked. "Please, come out."

The person hiding in the corning was shaking but he didn't expose himself to his visitor right away. It couldn't be him, how could he know I was here, no one knew. With a shaky voice the intruder called out a name. "Benny?"

His ears were deceiving him; that was the only explanation Fraser could come up with. It was the only thing that could explain him hearing the voice of the dead. Fraser stood his ground, quietly listening. The sound of the other person in the room breathing confirmed it wasn't the ghost of his dead friend haunting him. Fraser wouldn't have been surprised by that, after the years of being plagued with his own father's spirit, nothing like that could surprise him anymore.

Fraser continued staring into the darkened cabin that was no longer familiar to him, searching for anything that would give away where the person was hiding but the sun was going down and all he could see were shadows. He continued waiting for the intruder to make the next move.

"Benny, is that you?"

Tears began falling down Fraser's cheeks. "Please . . . come out . . . I can't see you." He thought for sure that he had finally lost his mind. There was no way it was Ray, just someone who sounded like him or better yet, he was hearing Ray's voice in this person's words.

The voice of the person whom entered the cabin confirmed who he was and that put the occupant at ease. It had been nearly a year since he heard that voice or even saw the face that accompanied it. Only in his dreams had he seen and heard this man and his dreams were the only thing keeping him hopeful about his return.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caused Fraser to pivot towards his right and as the figure emerged into the remaining light in the cabin, Fraser gasped. "Ray?" He moved closer to the figure emerging from the shadows. When the stranger's face finally came into view he learned it wasn't a stranger after all but his best friend. "Ray, is that really you?" Fraser was still very skeptical and didn't want to get his hopes up too high just to have the rug pulled out from beneath him. His mind had played tricks on him before and he wasn't about to let that happen again.

"Yes Benny, it's really me. Who did you expect it to be?" Ray asked as he holstered his gun.

Fraser now stood in front of Ray, close enough to touch him and yet he couldn't bring himself to do it; to feel the skin of his best friend, alive and well; to feel the beating of his heart for reassurance of his very much alive state. He said the only words that his brain could manage to get passed his lips. "You're not dead."

Ray looked puzzled by those words. "Dead . . . why the heck would I be dead? I am standing here in front of you aren't I?"

"I don't know . . . " Fraser closed his eyes to give his mind time to calculate what was happening or to clear the image away. When he opened them, he half expected the vision of his friend to be gone but Ray was still standing there with concern etched on his face. "Oh Ray!" Fraser reached out both hands and touched Ray's cheeks. The feel of the skin underneath his fingertips sent shock waves through his body. Sensory overload was taking place causing Fraser's knees to buckle.

"Benny!" Ray called out as he tried to grab hold of his friend before he hit the wood floor but all he could do was soften the fall. Ray sat down next to an unconscious Fraser and waited out his fainting spell. Something bizarre was going on. He couldn't understand Fraser's reaction or why Fraser thought he was dead in the first place. Didn't anyone inform him of the plan?

A moan escaped Fraser as he began to move, becoming more alert as the seconds passed. His eyes fluttered open and they fixed their view on the man sitting next to him. He was a man that should be dead but was not. "Ray . . ."

"Oh no, we are not going through that again." Ray stood up then offered Fraser a hand. Fraser hesitantly took hold and Ray pulled him up off the floor. "Benny, I don't understand what just happened here so I hope you're ready to clue me in. It isn't everyday I have a Mountie falling at my feet and that Mountie being you is even a rarer occurrence."

"Ray . . . I thought you were dead . . ." Ray's eyes were now bugging out of their sockets. "We all thought you were dead . . . your family, your friends, everyone at the precinct . . . everyone."

"Everyone except the Feds," Ray said as he began pacing, his words spoken with resentment. "Damn them, I knew there was a reason I never trusted them before. Why I let my guard down . . . I don't know."

Fraser was mesmerized by this action, Ray pacing. It was a sight he never thought he would see again. It was an action that was so typically Ray. Until that moment, until he could actually see Ray doing it, he hadn't realized how much he had missed his best friend and mourned him.

"What?" Ray asked when he stopped pacing and noticed Fraser's stare.

Fraser's lips started to quiver as he began shaking, trying to explain his current state. "Ray . . . I never thought I would see you again . . . I never thought I would be able to hear your voice . . . I never thought I would be a friend to you, irritate you . . . I thought you were gone . . . forever . . ." Fraser dropped his head into his hands as he began crying.

Ray was thoroughly moved by Fraser's exposure of his emotions. Fraser was usually the type of person to hide his feelings and so, this released of sorrow was somewhat strange to Ray. It was strange and yet oh so wonderful. The only thing Ray knew to do was walk over to his friend and wrap his arms around him to offer him comfort and that was what he did.

Stan was travelling a day behind Fraser and he hated every minute of it. It wasn't so much he hated going after the guy or being in Canada but he hated the reason behind his trip. Once again, as usual, the Feds let their end of the deal down. They let the line of information slip and the fact that Ray was actually alive and well and hiding somewhere in Canada was kept hush-hush, even from his immediate family. This information was being kept under the lid to protect an assignment that was no longer even an assignment anymore, just to be sure.

Stan had stood by as he watch the mother of his persona weep for the loss of her son. Stan had stood by and watched as his friend and partner mourned the loss of his best friend. Stan mourned the loss of a man he never met and all because some bureaucrats decided it was the best course of action to take. Damn Feds, never trust them.

It wasn't like the plan the Feds concocted was that ingenious. They staged the murder of a mobster then whisked his impersonator away for safe keeping, in Canada of all places. Someone should really talk to these guys in order to come up with better and more unique plans.

Stan entered the village where he was hoping to find his friend. It was just after dusk and he was thoroughly exhausted from his trip. The people greeted him openly and when he met up with Eric, supposed friend of the Mountie, Stan became discouraged at the news Fraser left the village earlier that morning.

"Detective, you are welcome to stay the night with us," Eric offered. "In the morning, I will take you to him but I think you will find that he is doing all right." Eric didn't wait for Stan's response as he began leading the way to his abode.

When he felt the arms of his best friend wrap around his shaking body, Fraser clung onto him. He never wanted to let him go for fear Ray would be gone and Fraser knew he couldn't handle it if Ray left him a second time. Ray sensed this urgency in his friend. He couldn't miss it. This wasn't the Benny he left a year ago, far from it. "Shhh, Benny, it's gonna be all right."

Releasing a shuttering breath, Fraser spoke his name and it was more in a question than a statement. "Ray?" Fraser pulled his head back to look at his friend, the one person in life he actually lived his life for. That was a revelation he came to during this entire fiasco. Before Ray, the one person he lived his life was for was his dad and when his dad had been taken away too soon in life, Ray was the only person left who cared about him and whom he cared about.

Focusing on Fraser, Ray responded, "Yeah Benny?" And the two friends stood there, eyes locked in a stare that was saying more than either of them could muster out at that moment. Fraser timidly began closing the gap between Ray's lips and his own. Ray stood stock still, letting Fraser take this step. It was a step he himself had been too scared to take and he wasn't even sure if this was the right thing to do or if this was the right time to let it happen but he couldn't nor wouldn't stop it.

When their lips touched a familiarity was felt. They had never taken their friendship to this level before but they both knew this felt right. This was how love was meant to be. Fraser finally knew what it was meant to love and be loved all in that first kiss. As their emotions intensified so did the kiss. Both men cupped each other's face as their mouths parted and for the first time they tasted and felt what it was like to be part of one another physically.

Ray finally let his brain take over his thinking as he reluctantly pulled away. "Wait," Ray pulled his entire body away from Fraser but didn't move too far out of his personal space. "What are we doing? This isn't you and me . . . this . . . " There was a hurt look on Fraser's face and Ray couldn't handle seeing it. "Please don't, I'm sorry but this isn't what you want . . . you're confused. You've just stepped off an emotional roller-coaster that . . . you don't know what you want." What Ray wanted couldn't be what Fraser wanted, that would mean Ray was actually going to get what he wanted and that never happened.

"Ray, this is very much what I want . . ." Fraser tried to say when Ray cut him off.

"This can't be what you want. You're not like that . . . "

"What Ray, I'm not like you? I don't love my best friend?" Fraser's words rendered Ray speechless. "Yes Ray, I know you love me. Your mother told me so before I came up here. She also knew that I loved you and that is the only reason she told me."

"Ma knows?" Ray turned defeated and walked towards the couch as best he could in the dark. When he sat down, he turned on the lamp that was next to said couch as he slouched back in his seat. The light illuminating the cabin finally gave Fraser a chance to get a good look at the interior of his cabin. No longer could he consider it his dad's cabin since it no longer looked like his dad's cabin.

Then Fraser's eyes landed on Ray. He could also finally see Ray clearly and he looked the same as he always had. His hair was cropped as it was before Fraser had left on holiday. He was still sleek and gracious in his movements. He was still Ray. There was no trace of the person he had been pretending to be, just Ray. Fraser walked towards the couch and sat next to him. Ray didn't even acknowledge him as he sat. "Ray . . . she was truly understanding and I believe accepting of it all."

Ray chuckled to himself. "Benny, I don't mind that she knows, I'm a little shocked I have to admit that . . . but I guess I should've known she would know. She knew I was going to ask Angie to marry me before I told anyone and she also knew we were getting divorced before I told her. She always knows."

"You're mother knows you very well. You should be grateful to have such an understanding mother," Fraser commented.

"I love Ma Benny, you know that."

"Yes Ray, I do know that."

"I do love you too Benny."

Fraser smiled at Ray's admission. "I love you too Ray."

"Thank God." Ray moved closer to Fraser and their kissing started all over again.

He had heard of Ray Vecchio's hatred of Canada from the man's sister and now he understood why. Stan sat quietly next to the Inuit man named Eric whom he was told could help him find Fraser and they were being quiet because neither man seemed to care for the other. Stan didn't even know this man very well. Once he arrived in the village and explained his need to find his friend, he was given a place to sleep, told he would be taken to the Mountie in the morning and that was that. Eric didn't or wouldn't speak too freely in front of the Chicago Cop and that had Stan feeling a little uneasy over the situation.

"So . . . how much farther is it to where ever it is yer taking me?" Stan ventured as the jeep bounced and jerked over the bumpy terrain. Stan was holding on for dear life.

"It's not much farther." And that was all Eric would say.

Stan just mumbled to himself as he repeated 'not much farther.' All he wanted to do was find Fraser, tell him his best friend wasn't dead and get the hell out of there. Was that too much to ask? Another big bump was hit and Stan nearly hit his head. "Geez, would ya watch it."

"Sorry." Eric didn't even flinch.

The sound of a jeep, pulling up outside the cabin stirred Ray from his slumber. Oddly the noise wasn't even penetrating the Mountie's subconscious but Ray just chalked it up to exhaustion. Both men had fallen asleep fully clothed and holding onto one another as if either one of them had let go the other would float away. Ray kissed Fraser's temple as he slipped from the bed and left the bedroom closing the door behind him. Ray quickly found his discarded handgun and once again took up a defensive position in a darkened corner and waited.

When the door opened, a blonde uneasy looking man entered. He wasn't what Ray was expecting in a mob guy but sometimes the element of surprise could throw off the victim to let their guard down. Ray was not going to let anything happen if he could stop it. "Stop right where you are and get your hands where I can see them," Ray demanded of their intruder.

Stan Kowalski froze as he heard the gun cock and he shoved his hands in the air as instructed. "Hey Buddy, easy there," Stan sputtered out. "I'm, uh, I'm lookin' for Constable Fraser. I was told he was here."

"And who's looking for him?" Ray asked not moving from his position.

"A friend, who are you?" Stan asked.

"I asked you first." Ray stood up and came into the view of their visitor.

At the sight of the gun, Stan tensed. "Listen man, just tell me where Fraser is and I'll be gone. He is all right, isn't he?"

"That is none of your business. Listen pal, you are going to exit this cabin, hop back into your jeep and drive away from here. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you but I can't do that."

"You're not making this easy are you?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble but no, now tell me where Fraser is. You better not have done anything to him." Stan warned as he slowly began to lower his hands.

"Hey don't, keep your hands where I can see them," Ray warned as he motioned towards the ceiling with the gun.

"Ray?"

Both men turned to see their sleepy friend at the opened bedroom door.

"Benny, go back in the bedroom, I have everything under control here." Ray didn't trust this stranger and his insistence in seeing his best friend.

"Ray?" Stan questioned as he finally looked closely at the man holding the gun at him.

"Yeah so now you know my name, what's it to you?" Ray asked turning his attention back to the man he was holding at bay.

"Ray," Fraser began again, not heeding Ray's instructions. "Ray, this is Stan Kowalski."

"Yeah and that's suppose to mean something to me?" Ray questioned keeping a tight hold of his gun, his aim never wavering.

This defensive stance disturbed Fraser slightly. Obviously there was more to the undercover assignment he had yet to figure out and they had all the time in the world for that but now he just had to get Ray to understand whom he was dealing with. Fraser tried again, this time explaining with more detail. "Ray, this is Stan Kowalski, he was your cover back in Chicago. He was Ray Vecchio while you were away."

Ray didn't move at first. All he could do was blink his eyes as the information sunk into his brain. This man was him. This man lived his life while he was away. This man protected everyone he held dear. This man was his savior. Fraser saw the falter in Ray's stance and quickly walked up behind him as Ray lowered his arm nearly dropping the cocked gun to the floor. Fraser caught the gun and his soon to be lover's shaking body.

Stan joined Fraser at Ray's side, taking the gun and placing it on a nearby table. As he watch Fraser sooth his best friend, Stan realized at that point that his trip had been a wasted one and that these two men had reached a better understanding of their own relationship. Ray had wrapped his arms around Fraser tightly and Fraser was soothing his distraught friend by running his one hand up and down his back and the other protectively cupped the back of his head.

Ray was sobbing in the arms of the man he loved and he couldn't stop himself. They were tears he had wanted to shed for months if not the entire year he was gone but he couldn't let his emotions get the better of him while he was away. To let that happen would have meant his possible death. Ray had to push everything to the back of his mind: his family, his friends, his life, everything. He had to cover up whom he really was in order to keep Ray Vecchio and Armondo Langostini on separate planes. If he had let the two mix or have any similarities or common bonds, Ray would have lost his soul for good.

"Ray," Fraser said as he looked at Stan, "Tell Eric that he may go now. I will take you back to the village when you are ready to leave." And Stan left the cabin to do so.

When Stan returned to the cabin carrying his bag, he found Ray was seated on the couch in the living room area and Fraser was in the kitchen area doing what he always seem to do, making tea. Stan joined him in the kitchen. "Hey Frase."

Fraser turned to regard his friend. "Hello Ray." Fraser said, finally greeting his friend courteously. Stan sensed an aura about Fraser that he had never seen or sensed before.

"Fraser, I came here to tell you that Ray was still alive," Stan explained, feeling he had to.

"I know Ray, thank you." Fraser was smiling now and that was another thing Stan rarely saw the Mountie do.

"Is he okay?" Stan asked as he gestured back towards the living room. All he could see was the back of Ray's balding head as it rested against the back of the couch.

"I believe so, he just needs to work through a few things I think. We both do." Fraser proceeded to pour three cups of water, placing a tea bag in one and two instant coffee bags in the others. "I will assume that Ray's family knows he's alive then, yes?"

Stan nodded his head. "Yeah, we found out a day after you left, go figure. I think the Vecchios may still be celebrating their Lazarus son."

"Mrs. Vecchio is all right then?" Fraser still felt guilty about leaving so abruptly for she was the only person who made that decision hard.

"Yeah, she's fine. Fraser, she understood why you had to leave. We all understood. I think even Diefenbaker will forgive you for that one."

Fraser laughed at that comment. "That's what you think. You know very well I will receive the silent treatment for a week before he comes around."

"Yeah, well, then you deserve it." Fraser nodded his head, agreeing with his friend and his wolf's logic.

The down time between the end of the assignment and his return to civilization in Chicago gave Ray and Fraser the time they needed to get reacquainted with one another and to explore the new territory their relationship now allowed. They remained at the cabin for little over a month and strangely, it was the first time the two had actually been in Canada together where neither of their lives were in danger. But now their month of seclusion was over and it was time for them to return to the real world.

Ray gazed over at his sleeping lover. It had been a long trip in just getting to the airport for the flight back to Chicago and the travel had worn the Mountie out. Ray was just as tired but it had been over a year since he'd seen his family and he was too anxious for sleep to take over. As he watch Fraser sleep, he couldn't help but think, in a way, he had saved this man's life once again, or was it that Fraser had saved his life? He couldn't really tell the difference anymore. They were so much apart of each other's lives he couldn't tell anymore when it was he that needed saved or Fraser. He felt Fraser's pain just as much as Fraser felt his own. They were two beings united into one spirit.

Fraser turned in his seat with his eyes blinking their way open. "Hey Benny," Ray said with a smile as Fraser began waking up.

Fraser stretched the kinks that came with sleeping in a cramped airplane seat. "I'm sorry Ray," he uttered groggily.

Ray smiled at the common and expected Fraser response that came whenever the Mountie thought he did something wrong. "For what Benny?"

"For falling asleep on you . . . well not on you literally seeing we both have our own separate seats but . . ." Fraser was babbling, he could do that wide away or half asleep.

"I know what you mean Benny and there's nothing for you to be sorry for," Ray said trying to reassure his friend and now lover. "I'm just as tired as you are but I'm just too wired for sleep."

"Wired?"

"Yeah, you know, nervous," Ray said trying to explain what he had meant.

"Nervous, why are you nervous?" Fraser asked as he readjusted himself in his seat in an effort to find a more comfortable position.

"Benny . . . I'm going home. After a year of being someone I wasn't very happy being . . . I'm going home." Even though he was saying the words and they were on a plane heading for his hometown of Chicago, Ray still couldn't believe that it was all over, that he was free to be whom he was born to be, himself. "I'm going home and yet I almost feel like I don't belong there."

Fraser reached out and took hold of Ray's hand. "Ray, you know very well that you belong in Chicago with your family and your friends . . ." Fraser stated. For the life of him, he couldn't understand how this man, the person he depended on upon his own arrival in the big city of Chicago, could feel out of his element in the town he grew up in. "You belong there . . . with me."

"Oh Benny, I could live anywhere with you . . . If you wanted to stay in Canada, I would stay. If you wanted to live in Florida, I would go there. If you wanted to move half way across the globe to some country I've never even heard of, I would follow you." Ray smiled shyly as his own revelation sunk into his head. "Wherever you are is my home."

Fraser was so moved by Ray's words, he was speechless and the only thing he could think of to convey how he felt was to kiss him and that he did. He didn't care who on the plane saw them. He was with Ray and that was all that mattered. When they parted, Fraser looked straight into Ray's eyes and said, "We belong in Chicago Ray."

Ray nodded his head knowing that Fraser was right about this matter as he was normally right about everything else. Thus the two men returned to Chicago, where they both belonged, together.

The End