Fraser smiled as he thought of his partner. Ray was such a bundle of energy. Fraser had just about had to use force to stop Ray from leaving the Consulate to pursue his case himself - likely getting himself arrested in the process. "How do you know I didn't kill Volpe, Fraser?" Ray had asked him. "Because I know you, Ray," had been Fraser's reply. "You are my partner. And you are my friend." Ray had looked so surprised at that. Why was it so hard for the detective to believe in himself? Was it because his ex-wife had hurt him so badly? At least Ray had known where to come for help. It seemed that Kowalski had just automatically headed straight for the Consulate when he was being pursued by that rather high-strung patrol officer. He had come to Fraser for help, and Fraser had provided it. Because he loved Ray.
Yes, love. That was how he felt about Ray. It wasn't the same as the love he felt for his other Ray, Ray Vecchio, the man Kowalski was now pretending to be. Fraser loved that Ray also, but as a brother. He was *in love* with Ray Kowalski. That was why he was a little bit afraid that Kowalski was avoiding him - perhaps he had realized how Fraser felt about him. But Benton didn't think so. He had always been good at hiding his feelings. He had spent all that time in very close quarters with Ray while giving him asylum, and he hadn't betrayed himself, though he'd come close once. Ray had been upset about Fraser's going alone to question a suspect in the Volpe murder, and Fraser had found himself squeezing Ray's shoulder in reassurance, and he'd come very close to not letting go of his partner, until Turnbull had interrupted.
How had this happened? How had he fallen for this man? It was not so surprising that he'd fallen in love with a man - he'd not been raised with any prejudices toward homosexuality, and he had encountered, and befriended, many Two-Spirited people in the native communities in the North. But why had he fallen for *this* man? They were so different, the two of them. Where Benton was calm, Ray was hyperactive. Benton always thought before he acted, while Ray was impulsive. Perhaps that was it - they complemented each other.
Fraser heard a sound at the door to his office. Without looking up, he said, "Ah, Turnbull, what can I do for you?"
"Shut up, Mountie," said a voice that was definitely not Turnbull's. A man with a gun stood in front of Fraser's desk. He was holding a gun to Turnbull's head.
"Oh, dear," said Fraser.
The gunman indicated the telephone on Fraser's desk. "Call the police and tell them that I have you two Mounties as hostages, and that I want your government to cancel the softwood lumber deal they just made with my government."
Fraser automatically dialed the 27th Precinct, but Ray wasn't there, and Francesca became so hysterical when he told her what was happening that Fraser gave up trying to talk to her and hung up. He lifted the receiver again to call 911, but the gunman said, "No more phone calls, Mountie."
Fraser said to the man, "Look, why don't you release Constable Turnbull, and we'll talk about this. Why don't you tell me what it is about the softwood lumber deal you object to?"
The gunman threw Turnbull to one side and pointed the gun at Fraser. "You, blondie," he said to Turnbull, "go guard the door, and don't let anyone in unless you're sure they don't have a weapon. After all, you can't bring guns into Canada, har har!" He turned back to Fraser. "You Canucks are taking away all our good American jobs with that stupid NAFTA thingy, and now this. Why don't you keep your lumber on *your* side of the border and stop under-selling us Americans?"
"I don't think you fully understand the nature of trade between our two countries, sir..." Fraser began, slowly approaching the American. He could hear sirens. Ah. Apparently he got through to Francesca after all. If only he'd been able to talk to Ray. Oh no, Ray! He'd be certain to try to get in to the Consulate, and Turnbull was under specific orders not to admit anyone with a gun. Knowing Ray, he would come in unarmed, and face down this obviously deeply disturbed and well-armed individual. Fraser was not a very religious man, though his grandparents had raised him in the United Church of Canada. But he prayed as he continued approaching the gunman. He had to end this before Ray got here. "Please, sir, why don't you give me your weapon. Surely we can come to some kind of amicable resolution. We are surrounded by Chicago police, as you no doubt can tell by the sirens. You will not escape, even if you kill me."
The man's hand wavered. Fraser grabbed for his arm, trying to reach the gun. In a swift movement the American swung his arm up to his head and blew his own brains out, splattering Fraser's uniform with blood and gore.
Turnbull heard the shots and came running in. "Constable Fraser, are you all....oh, I see." Turnbull turned slightly green.
"Turnbull, go back to the door and keep an eye out for Detective Vecchio," Fraser ordered. "Don't let anyone else in." Fraser knew he would eventually have to admit the coroner and probably several other police officers besides Ray, but right now he didn't want to see anyone but his partner.
Fraser went in to the bathroom, thankful that it was now functional. He tried vainly to clean some of the blood from his uniform. *Ray will be concerned if he sees all of this blood on me* he thought. But it was no use, so he returned to his office. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice yelling "WHERE IS FRASER?" Oh, my, what was Ray so upset about? He left his office and went in to the foyer. "Ray?"
"Fraser!" Ray lunged forward and threw his arms around Fraser. Fraser was so surprised he simply stood and patted Ray's back for a few moments, then he realized Turnbull was staring at the two of them. "Please, Ray, not in front of Turnbull," he said, and led his partner in to his office.
"This is - ?" asked Ray, indicating the corpse on the carpet.
"Apparently he was upset about a trade deal between Canada and the United States, and he chose to express his displeasure with a loaded weapon," explained Fraser.
"What happened?" the detective asked with a shaky voice.
"I first attempted to talk him in to giving up his weapon, and when that didn't work, I was going to disarm him by force, but he chose to end his life rather than give himself up."
"The blood...yer covered in it," Ray said softly. "It's all his?"
"Yes, Ray."
"Yer okay?"
"I'm fine, Ray."
The next thing Fraser knew, Ray was sitting on the floor sobbing. *Ray must not have known that the shot was this unfortunate man shooting himself* Fraser realized. *He saw Turnbull at the door, and he didn't know where I was.* He knelt beside his friend and put his arms around him.
"I'm all right, Ray," he whispered. "I'm all right."
"Fraser...I thought I'd lost you," Ray said with a sob.
"You haven't lost me, Ray. I'm right here."
"I can't lose you, Fraser," said Ray between sobs. "I love you."
Ray loved him? He hardly dared believe it, but here was Ray, sobbing in his arms, obviously terrified of losing him.
"I love you too, Ray."
"You...you do?" asked Ray, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.
"Yes, Ray. You don't know how afraid I was that when you heard about the gunman, you would attempt to come in here unarmed to take him down."
"So you tried to do it yourself," stated Ray.
"Yes, Ray."
"Fraser?"
"Yes, Ray?"
"You're nuts."
*He* was nuts for trying to take down a gunman when he himself was unarmed? What had Ray been intending to do? "No more than you are, Ray," he said.
"So we're both nuts," said Ray.
"Yes, I believe we are. Is that a bad thing?" Fraser asked.
Fraser watched as Ray thought for a moment. He was pleased to see Ray smile through the remains of his tears. Ray kissed him gently. "Nah," his partner said. "It means we're perfect for each other."
End