Author's disclaimer: They belong to Alliance

Author's notes: Hi again. This is the first in what will probably be a two-parter. I've rated it NC-17 for the themes rather than any action - think that's right.

Please let me know what you think. Mistakes and otters are mine; anything that works for you should be shared equally between Ruthie and Linda, who have patiently propped up my ego and not shouted once. TYK

LEARNING TO LISTEN

Constable Benton Fraser looked at his watch again and allowed himself the luxury of a small sigh. He had been waiting for Ray for almost an hour now; whilst his partner was prone to forgetfulness, he was not usually so bad.

As if thinking about him had conjured him up, Ray Kowalski appeared around the corner, apparently not in any kind of hurry. Fraser sighed again and schooled his features into something approaching their usual bland politeness.

"Hey Frase," said Ray, waving one hand in greeting. "You ready?"

"Well actually Ray, I've been here for some time. I do wish you would tell me if you're going to be held up for any length of time."

"What do you mean held up?" asked Kowalski. "I said I'd be here at 10.30 and here it is, 10.30," he looked at his own watch. "Kinda."

"Ray I distinctly remember this morning that you said you would be here at 10.00..."

"No, that was what I said the first time," amended Ray. "What I said the second time was 10.30." He scowled. If you would just listen to me sometimes..."

"I listen to you all the time," protested Fraser, beginning to walk up the street. Ray jogged a couple of paces to catch him up.

"No," he said. "You might listen to me sometimes, but I don't think you very often hear me."

"Well that's just silly Ray," said Fraser reasonably.

Ray grunted and continued walking. It was like this all the time now. Fraser never listened to the most simple of requests; he always knew better, always knew just what Ray wanted. It was beginning to get to Ray big time.

"You only ever hear what you want to hear," he said to Fraser. "Even somethin' as stupid as what time I was goin' to be here. You wanted me here at 10.00 so that's what you heard."

"But Ray, that's what you said," protested Fraser.

"That's what I said the first time," Ray repeated. "But you didn't hear me the second time did you? Even though I was standing right in front of you."

The two men descended into silence as they walked. Fraser had the sinking feeling that Ray was right, but his own pride wouldn't let him admit it. Ray for his part knew that he was in the right and was enjoying watching Fraser squirm. It didn't happen often.

However Ray's nature being what it was he couldn't keep quiet for long and he certainly couldn't hold a grudge against Fraser. Looking around he quickly linked his arm through the Mountie's and pulled him close so that they were briefly pressed together, side against side. "Don't matter," he said. "I'm here now." He released Fraser and continued walking.

Fraser smiled, nodding. "Indeed, Ray," he said.

"So what's this apartment like?" asked Ray. "I don't see what's wrong with the one we got now."

"Because it's yours," said Fraser. "Ray, I know this sounds silly, but I want something that's ours."

"It is ours," answered Ray. "You know that."

Fraser mumbled something and Ray didn't push it. He didn't want to fight, or even niggle today; the sun was shining, he had the morning off and he was apartment hunting with the love of his life. What was there to be annoyed about? Oh yeah, nothing.

It was a nice place when they got there two bedrooms, so there was plenty of storage space and a great view over the city. They were left alone to poke around and told to come and find the landlord when they had decided.

Ray stood by the window, gazing out over the city, lost in his own thoughts. He jumped when a pair of strong arms encircled him, then relaxed, laying his head back against Fraser's broad shoulder. He brought his hands up to rest on Fraser's. Fraser dropped a soft kiss on Ray's ear.

"Well?" he said.

"It's nice Frase. It really is," said Ray. "It's just I dunno. Apartment hunting, y'know?" he grimaced. "It's permanent."

"And isn't that what we are?" asked Fraser. "Aren't we permanent?"

"'Course we are!" Ray twisted round until he was facing Fraser, still trapped in the strong Mountie arms. "We're permanent; we are. But what happens when we move to Canada? 'Cos you know and I know it'll happen."

Fraser's heart was warmed by the implications in that statement. He hugged the slighter man hard then released him.

"Would you rather think about it a little bit longer?" he said, smiling as Ray nodded his head.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go and have some lunch, then it'll be time for you to go to work."

"'Kay," said Ray. He walked past Fraser to the door of the apartment, running a hand down Fraser's arm as he went, grateful for the understanding.

They had lunch in a local diner, then Fraser walked Ray back to the precinct.

"Okay remember, I don't finish work until 9," said Ray. "So I'll see you then. Oh no, make it 8.30."

"Fine Ray. I'll see you then." Fraser turned and began his walk back to the apartment. Diefenbaker would be in need of exercise. Ray watched him walk away and with an affectionate shake of his head he turned and made his way into the building.

By 8.40 that evening Ray was fuming. Fraser was never late, which meant that again he hadn't listened to what Ray had said. It was too much. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his seat and made his way out of the precinct. He would meet Fraser on the way from the apartment, and this time he wouldn't back down. This time he would tell Fraser exactly what he thought.

As he stormed down the street, a scuffle at the back of an alley caught his attention, and his cop instincts sparked. Three men, all looking furtive, were hemming a fourth man in, obviously trying to intimidate him into giving something up.

Checking his gun was in its holster, Ray made his slow and careful way down the alley until he was only a few yards from the men.

"Gentlemen!" he said suddenly. "Chicago PD! Wanna tell me what the problem is?"

Two of the men turned to him and Ray winced inwardly. Oh fuck. They were huge. And high. Even from where he was standing he could smell the amphetamine sweat coming off them. The third man turned more slowly. He didn't seem to be on anything, and that made him potentially more dangerous than the other two. The fourth man, a little weasel, began to slide his way along the wall towards Ray, who shot out an arm and grabbed him by the collar.

"Yes?" he said politely, "And you would be going where?"

As the weasel began to babble incoherently, Ray's attention was distracted for the one moment which mattered, and he found himself being driven backwards as one of the larger of the men launched himself at the detective. He landed flat on his back in the alley, all the air driven out of his lungs. He was vaguely aware of running footsteps as Weasel disappeared, but then all his attention was focused on a huge pair of hands wrapping themselves in the collar of his jacket and pulling him upright.

As soon as he regained his feet an almighty punch in the kidneys sent him sprawling into the broad chest of the first thug and his senses were assailed by the smell of the drug coming off him in great waves. Oh shit.

He was thrown against the wall of the alley and was completely unable to stop his legs from giving way. He slid down the wall and stayed on the ground, curled over as much as possible, protecting his tender midriff.

"Now this was really bad timing," said a smooth voice from above his head. The third guy, the one who wasn't stoned, was standing over him, looking at him like he was some kind of exhibit. "Why is it that cops can never mind their own business."

"Part of the job description," gasped Ray, really wishing that his mouth would wait for his mind to catch up before it said anything.

"Well, let's see if we can find something that isn't in your job description."

Ray was hauled to his feet and then sent sprawling again by a swinging punch to the face. As he saw the fist descending again, he knew he didn't have a chance. It was just a question of how much these people were going to hurt him. How could it be happening so close to the precinct? All he had wanted to do was find Fraser.

Later, he would be grateful that he was only half conscious throughout most of the beating which followed, only registering the pain very distantly as he was kicked and punched without mercy. A tiny part of him which could never be quelled tried to fight back, but if he even made it as far as his knees he was kicked back down.

After what seemed like an age, but was really only a matter of minutes, the beating seemed to be over. Ray opened his eyes, having to blink blood out of them so that he could see what was going on. One of the thugs was straddling him, breathing hard,while the other one stood by his head. Although it hurt, Ray turned his head slightly to try and locate the third man, but a kick in the head changed his mind, and he closed his eyes again, just wanting it over. He could hear them speaking above him but he couldn't make out the words, just the tone. They were excited by what they had just done, and were obviously discussing whether to kill him or not. Ray hoped not. He hurt like hell, but he didn't want to die.

He sensed someone looming over him and forced his eyes open again. It was the smaller man, obviously the one in command.

"Well Detective, perhaps you've learned your lesson now," he said softly. "But my boys would like to do one more thing to you, and frankly you're in no position to argue."

Ray felt busy hands at the belt of his jeans, unfastening and unzipping. For a second, as panic flared through him, his mind cleared and he realised what was going to happen. He tried to get up, get away from these people, but another kick caused him to collapse back onto the ground. He tried to speak, tried to beg, but his lips were bruised and cut, his mouth full of blood. In a last ditch attempt, he lifted one leg and kicked out, catching someone on what felt like the knee.

He paid for that. He paid in what they did to him. Turning him onto his stomach and, encouraging each other, the two thugs raped him. They laughed when he cried out in pain and they kicked him when he tried to struggle. And all the time, the third man leaned against the wall and watched.

And when it was over they left him lying in his own blood and strolled off, talking and laughing excitedly about what they had just done.

At exactly 9pm, Constable Benton Fraser strolled into the squad room to meet Ray so that they could go for dinner. He was surprised to see that Ray wasn't at his desk in fact most of the desks were empty. Ray's jacket was gone from the back of his chair so he obviously hadn't just gone for coffee. Fraser looked down at Diefenbaker as the wolf whined.

"Well I know that I heard him say 9," said Fraser defensively. "I don't know where he is."

Dief looked at him, then trotted to the door, stopping and looking over his shoulder. Fraser shrugged and walked after him.

"He can't have gone far," he said in his best reasonable voice. "He said 9pm."

Once outside the precinct, Dief paused scenting the air, then with a worried bark he trotted down the street. Fraser followed, knowing better than to argue with a deaf wolf with its back turned.

"Dief!" he said in disgust as the wolf stopped at the top of a dark alley. "This is no time to rediscover your hunting abilities." He stopped by the animal, looking into the alley. What he saw almost stopped his heart.

Ray was struggling to his feet, face covered in blood. His shirt was ripped half off and he was trying without much success to fasten his jeans with hands that were swollen and bruised.

"Ray! My god!" Fraser ran down the alley to where the detective stood, swaying slightly. "Ray! What -?" Fraser's hands hovered ineffectually, not knowing where to go.

Ray lifted his head and looked at Fraser, and his eyes were dead.

"You were half an hour late," was all he said.

Putting a protective arm around Ray, Fraser helped him out of the alley and back towards the precinct, talking gently. He was shocked at the extent of Ray's injuries. Nose obviously broken, both eyes already beginning to blacken. He was bleeding heavily from numerous cuts. His thin body was similarly bruised and cut and his hands were in a bad way, covered in what looked like defence wounds.

Fraser led Ray into the squad room, and immediately the CPD rallied round one of their own. The alley was sealed off as an inch by inch search was started to try and find any clue to Ray's attackers; Ray himself was taken to hospital in a blue and white. Fraser went with him, still talking gently. Ray had said nothing after his first comment. He sat in the corner of the back seat, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, shivering with a combination of shock and cold. If Fraser tried to touch him he didn't pull away, but he didn't encourage it either.

Once at the hospital, Ray endured the pain and humiliation of the rape exam in silence, then he answered all the questions he was asked in a calm manner. Fraser stayed with him.

When finally the police left them alone, Ray lay in bed studying the IV in his hand as it fed antibiotics and fluids into his system. He still hadn't spoken to Fraser.

"Ray, would you like me to stay with you tonight?" Fraser asked, frightened by his usually volatile partner's silence.

Ray shrugged, then winced as bruised and torn muscles protested. "Don't care," he said. "I'm gonna be asleep real soon, so you do what you want."

"Ray, I'm sorry I wasn't there," said Fraser picking up Ray's hand and holding it between his own. Ray just let it lie there.

"It doesn't really matter now does it?" he said. "You weren't there; you were late again. Doesn't take long for stuff to happen y'know." Fraser looked at him, not understanding, and Ray sighed. "Go home Fraser. Take care of your wolf."

"If that's what you want Ray," said Fraser in a voice full of hurt.

"Yeah, that's what I want," answered Ray, still not looking up.

"Very well. I'll be back in the morning," said Fraser, standing up.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," was all Ray said, leaning his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes.

Fraser let go of Ray's hand and left the hospital room, not knowing what else to do. In all the time he had known Ray, he had never been shut out like this. Even when Ray was at his angriest he had always told Fraser what was wrong. This silent indifference was a new thing and Fraser didn't like it.

Rather than going back to the apartment, Fraser went to the precinct to find out if any progress had been made in the search for clues as to the identities of Ray's attackers. As he walked into the squad room, Lieutenant Welsh waved him into his office.

"Well?" said the Lieutenant.

"Well what sir?" asked Fraser.

"How is he?" asked Welsh. "I can't get down there for a while when a cop is hurt like this there's an awful lot of paperwork involved. How is he?"

"He's as well as can be expected," said Fraser carefully. "The beating was painful rather than damaging he has a broken nose, but other than that it's bruising and muscle damage. Nothing that rest won't put right. The the rape has caused tearing. Tests will have to be carried out to make sure he hasn't been infected..." Fraser couldn't go any further. Without asking for permission he sat on the couch and put his head in his hands.

"If I had only been here," he said. "He went to look for me. If I had been here this wouldn't have happened and we would be at home now..."

"Now Constable," said Welsh. "You're not going to help him by having a guilt trip. You've got to be there for him over the next few weeks while he gets over the trauma of what's happened to him. You skulking around looking guilty is not what he needs."

"But he's going to blame me," said Fraser. "He already does."

"I don't believe that," answered Welsh. "He's angry and frightened now, and he'll lash out at anybody who gets in his way. You just happened to be in the firing line."

Fraser didn't want to explain anything else. He didn't want to say that Ray hadn't lashed out at him; if that had happened Fraser could have handled it. No, Ray had dismissed him, and that was infinitely worse.

"Go home, Constable," said Welsh softly. "There's nothing you can do here, and he'll want you there tomorrow. Go home and get some sleep."

Fraser levered himself off the sofa, suddenly feeling a hundred years old. He nodded politely to the Lieutenant, but didn't say anything, since he would have had to disabuse the older man and he would never do that.

He made his slow way out of the station, turning away from the alley where Ray had been attacked. The dark corners were lit up with the glare of bright halogen lamps as the CPD tried to find any evidence at all as to the identities of these people.

Fraser woke with a start early the next morning. He was still sitting on the couch where he had collapsed the previous night. Dief was sitting with his head on Fraser's lap, concerned at the strange behaviour in his male.

"Oh Dief," said Fraser quietly. "What have I done?"

Standing up, he stretched and went to take a shower, deliberately ignoring the bed. He hadn't been able to face the thought of sleeping alone in their bed last night, and he still couldn't look at it. Guilt was eating him up inside, making him feel physically sick. Everywhere he looked he saw Ray's eyes, full of hurt and betrayal; every sound he heard transmuted into Ray's voice telling him not to make promises he couldn't keep.

A hot shower and a brisk walk with Dief revived him somewhat and he felt able to make his way to the hospital. He had promised Ray he would be there...

Even though he was very quiet as he walked into Ray's room, the man in the bed opened his eyes immediately and half smiled. "Hi."

"Hi Ray," answered Fraser cautiously. "How are you feeling today?"

"Oh like somebody beat me up and raped me. How 'bout you?" Fraser winced at the bitterness in Ray's tone. Ray's eyes softened.

"Come on," he said, nodding at one of the visitor's chairs. "Siddown and talk to me."

Fraser did as he was told and sat by the bed. He desperately wanted to reach out and touch one of Ray's hands but he knew by the look on Ray's face that such a touch would not be welcome.

"Should get some of the test results back today," said Ray softly, looking at his hands. "At least we'll know."

"Know what Ray?" asked Fraser, before biting his tongue at the crassness of his remark. He reached out a hand, but pulled it back again. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Forgive me."

"Forgive you for what Frase?" asked Ray, very softly, very dangerously. "Do you want me to forgive you bit by bit or do you just want to go for one omnibus grovel? That way we can forget the whole thing and just get on with our lives. How's that sound?"

"Ray..." Fraser didn't know what to say. He looked up at Ray helplessly and caught his breath at the anger radiating out of those blue eyes. "Please Ray; I never meant..."

"No, Fraser, you never do." Suddenly Ray collapsed back onto the pillows, too tired and hurt to care.

"Ray, believe me; I would cut out my heart and serve it to you if you asked me to. If I could change anything that happened yesterday, I would, you know that. Please don't do this to me."

"Why is this about you?" Ray asked, almost conversationally. "Why, suddenly do * I * have to forgive * you *? Think I'm the one who came out on the losing side here. All you had to do was listen to me, and you couldn't even do that."

The two men sat in silence after that. Fraser desperately searching for some neutral topic to get Ray talking again. Ray meanwhile, lay quiet and still, locking memories behind a door in his mind.

It was almost an hour later that a young doctor appeared in the doorway. After ascertaining Fraser's role in the drama, she gave Ray the good news that so far all the tests had come back negative. The final test, for HIV, would take another few hours, but by the end of the day, Ray would know everything.

He thanked the doctor politely, and as soon as she had gone, he turned onto his side, away from Fraser. Fraser could see Ray's shoulders shaking as he tried to keep in the sobs, but as soon as he reached out and touched Ray, Ray pulled away.

"Don't Frase, okay? Don't touch me. I I'd really like to be by myself for a little while. Could you go now?"

"I don't want to go, Ray," said Fraser, shocked at the thought of leaving Ray in this vulnerable condition.

"I don't really care what you want. Could you just go?" snapped Ray.

"I'll be back later. I'm not leaving you alone again Ray," said Fraser.

"Whatever. Could you just give me a while please?"

Fraser did as he was told, quietly closing the door as he left the room. His eyes were blurred with tears and he didn't see Ray watching him as he left, eyes lost and frightened. Nor did he hear the whispered "Frase."

And so the pattern for the next three days was set. After the first, hurtful exchange, Ray and Fraser didn't really speak. What they did say to each other was polite and distant, strangers again.

The only crack in the faade was when Ray was told the HIV test was negative as well, and that he had been given a clean bill of health. He grinned hugely, ignoring the stitches in his mouth, and turned to Fraser. Fraser smiled back, relieved and put a hand out, stroking Ray's cheek. After a matter of seconds the grin faded and, although Ray didn't pull away from Fraser's touch, the light in his eyes went out.

Fraser pulled his hand back and with a murmured, "Excuse me," followed the doctor out of the room.

"Doctor, could I just...?"

"Of course," answered the doctor. "What's the problem?"

"Well, Ray," said Fraser. "He doesn't seem to have reacted at all to what happened to him. I was wondering if this was normal?"

"People deal with this in many different way," said the doctor. "We have suggested that Ray see a counsellor but he has refused and we cannot make him. Tell me, does he keep a lot bottled up inside? Is he that kind of person?"

Fraser thought for a moment. Was he? For all Ray talked a lot, he didn't really say much. When it came to the big things in life, he didn't share how he felt. "Yes," he said finally. "He does keep things inside."

"Then all we can do is wait for the break. Be there for him when he needs you, but don't push him. People who keep things bottled up are tough to deal with, and when they do blow it tends to be spectacular."

"Oh absolutely," agreed Fraser fervently, seeing in his mind's eye a would-be bank robber spreadeagled on the hood of a car.

The doctor turned to go, then paused and turned back. "Don't let him drive you away," she said.

But the break didn't come. Ray stayed quiet and polite. When he was released from the hospital, he thanked the medical staff and let Fraser take him to the car.

"Are you okay Ray?" asked Fraser, as he watched Ray settle himself in the passenger seat, wincing as healing muscles protested.

"Oh sure," said Ray. "Just be nice to my car, 'kay?" He reached over and stroked the steering wheel, crooning. Fraser couldn't help himself. He laughed. Ray looked offended, but then he half smiled and turned to look out of the window.

The journey to the apartment was completed in silence, but Fraser felt that perhaps it wasn't such a hostile silence as of late. Maybe it was Ray's hatred of hospitals which had caused this distance between them. Tonight, when they went to bed, Fraser would make it right. He would hold Ray and comfort him and make him talk to him...

"Jesus God no!" exclaimed Ray. "There's no way you're sleeping with me. Not in the same bed, not in the same apartment!"

"Ray... be reasonable. I just want to make sure you're well during the night."

"I'm perfectly well, thank you very much. I don't want you anywhere near me, don't you understand? Haven't the last few days told you anything?" Ray paused in his erratic pacing and stood, hands on hips, facing Fraser across the width of the lounge.

"This is all your fault. Yours. You didn't listen to me and you were late. Because you were late again I went out to look for you. Because I went out to look for you I saw the bad guys. Because I saw the bad guys... Well, we don't have to go there. It's you. Always you!"

Ray had started off quietly, but had built up into a near scream by then end of his tirade.

"I don't want you here. I don't want you in this apartment. I don't want you near me. It's your fault!"

With that, Ray turned around and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled.

Fraser stood by the kitchen counter. He hadn't moved since he had made the first casual remark about it being time for bed. They had spent the afternoon in the apartment, not talking a lot, but not arguing. Fraser had no reason to believe that Ray would react....

The Mountie shook his head trying to dislodge the terrible feeling that his whole world was crumbling and he was powerless to stop it.

He walked to the bedroom door and raised his hand to knock, but then thought better of it. Ray had said he didn't want him there and he had meant it. Fraser had seen it in his eyes.

He looked around the apartment, not knowing what to do. Diefenbaker appeared from around the corner of the couch where he had hidden when Ray had started to pace.

Latching onto the one familiar and steadfast thing in his life, Fraser picked up his jacket and with a last look at the closed bedroom door, left the apartment.

THE END