By Anam71

March 2000

NC-17 for M/M slash, angst, love, AU, and all that other stuff.

A drama/romance/angst fest featuring Fraser and Vecchio and that tank girl Victoria.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em...jeez... and so don't sue me...please.

O shadow, in thy fleeting form I see

The friend of fortune that once clung to me.

In flattering light, thy constancy is shown;

In darkness, thou wilt leave me all alone.

-'The Shadow' by John Banister Tabb (1845-1909)

(I also quote Mark Strand deep within this story.)

Driving has always been one of Ray's more accomplished talents. He was a natural pro at it and it helped that he knew the Chicago streets more than all of the rooms in his own large house. Chicago was his home; he could just drive about blindfolded if he wanted to. Maybe that's why he never really kept his eyes on the road in the first place.

But considering the recent events of this morning, Ray was praying to God that he wouldn't wrap his precious Riv around a telephone pole on the way to the crime scene.

And Fraser was there sitting next to him, breathing and staring at him, and Ray could feel those blue eyes gently caressing his lank body. Ray certainly wasn't the Rock of Gibraltar, and it was bad enough his hands were still weak and shaky from their little morning tryst.

Ray was now ready to burst Oh Benny! What are you doing to me? What are you looking at? Damn. Nobody should ever be looking at him like that! No one should ever look that happy looking at him!

"Benny, will ya just look out the window?"

"I love your hands, Ray."

"Well, you should, after what they just done to you. Now will ya just look out the window?"

"You hate it when I look at you?"

"Of course I don't, Benny. Hell, later on I'll tap dance naked on your kitchen table and sing the 'Star Spangled Banner' if you want. But for now, I'm trying to drive and I really need to concentrate here. I don't need to hit another pedestrian again."

"Ray, you have hit someone before while you were driving? Oh dear." Fraser was staring hard at him, his eyes now full of astonishment instead of that sweet heated lust.

"Jeez Fraser, it was no big deal. I was on duty and my partner at the time..."

"You hit your own partner?" Fraser blue eyes now went wide; there was so much he still didn't know about his lover Ray.

The detective hissed. How did this conversation get so fucked up?

"I was having a bad day."

"Ah."

Ray had graciously decided to ignore his annoying friend's 'ah.' There will be plenty of time for him later on to strangle his pedantic lover. Oh God, he couldn't wait till later. But first things first.

"Let's talk shop Benny."

"Yes, Ray."

"Lieutenant Welsh told me that at approximately eight in the morning the body of Jeff Gillray was found on the docks by some transient. According to the coroner, he was probably shot and killed sometime between six to eight in the morning, the body was still warm when it was found."

"Hmm, we left the stakeout at approximately a quarter to six, Ray. Mr. Gillray may have shown up some time right after we left, and the illegal transaction he was involved in did not work out to his liking."

Ray nervously laughed. "You have a way of putting things, Benny."

"I'm saying that maybe the man Jeff Gillray was planning to meet simply did not see eye to eye with him, or possibly the man discovered we were staking out Mr. Gillray and so he was angry that he may get caught too? Or maybe the killer truly thought he was being set up by Mr. Gillray in conjunction with the police?"

"Damn, you think Benny?"

"I am only making a hypothetical guesses, Ray." Fraser simply shrugged.

"Oh damn, he could have killed us too if we hadn't left..."

"Ray, that may not be the case."

"I hope you are right, love. This case is getting weird. I mean, we get this anonymous call out of nowhere about Jeff Gillray doing some deal on the docks. And we wait for it to go down all night, and nothing happens. Then he suddenly shows up and he is killed. It just plain goddamn weird."

"I'm sure there is a logical explanation, if we look hard enough..."

"I just hope this won't take all day at the precinct. You know what I really want to be doing right now, and doing it to you, right Benny?" Ray gave him one of his sly lop-sided grins; the meaning behind that lovely grin was only too obvious.

"I love you, Ray." Blue eyes fondly gazing again.

"Yeah, yeah. I love you more, Benny. Oh God, you just wait till I get you home tonight." Ray gritted his teeth and was now fisting the steering wheel tightly. "Will ya just look out the window, damn it."

Fraser obediently stared out the passenger window, not really seeing the passing blur of buildings and people and the city; what he really saw were those secret moments in his apartment, those aristocratic hands on his body and deep sea-green eyes and that crafty warm mouth.

In no time, thanks to Ray's rather speedy and reckless maniac driving, they reached the crime scene near the very spot where they conducted their stakeout only hours ago. The area was cordoned off and swarming with uniformed officers, and Detective Huey looked up as the Riv approached the organized chaos.

Both men exited the green classic car and Fraser found his friend's stride somewhat slower, almost a little reluctant. He guessed Ray would rather be somewhere else than here at a murder site. He had an idea where, but it was too late now to hop in the car and race back to his apartment.

"Hey, Vecchio! Coming back for more, super cop?" Dewey shouted and waved over the crowd of officers and forensic technicians, and Ray cursed under his breath loud enough for his friend to hear.

"Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser was concerned at Ray's rather subdued demeanor; the detective was usually a bundle of nerves and energy when he was on a new case.

"Yeah, Benny. The docks always give me the creeps." Ray's stride now quickened as he and Fraser passed under the yellow crime scene tape and advanced to a perplexed detective Huey standing over a full body bag.

"Hey! You guys missed most of the fun, the coroner is ready to take our boy away."

"Jack, are they sure it's him?" Ray stared down at the black body bag and felt a slight wave of nausea, thinking that could have been his fate this morning if he hadn't worn his bulletproof vest. He preferred Armani to a body bag any day.

"Yep. Still had his wallet on him when his body was found, and he is loaded with cash. So it rules out mugging or robbery as the motive."

The Mountie folded his arms and frowned, staring intently at the body at his feet as if it would magically relay any clues to him by telepathy. "Perhaps the perpetrator of the murder was frightened off by a passerby when he attacked him on the street and didn't have the opportunity to take his personal belongings. After all, it was early morning and there must of have been enough daylight where he can be easily spotted by a witness."

"Well, that's the thing Fraser. Our friend's killer didn't commit the murder here on the street, rather he committed the murder from up above." Detective Huey then glanced up to all the black empty windows of the old abandoned warehouses that surrounded them on all sides. He suddenly felt depressed by the gloomy site.

"What do you mean, Jack?" Ray now looked up with Fraser, both men staring at the ominous dark windows. There were too many of them to count.

"Well, according to the coroner it looks like our victim was killed from long distance by a high-powered rifle due to his severe injuries he received. Basically, Vecchio, our guy has no head left."

Ray grimaced as the body was lifted into the coroner's wagon to be carried away to the medical examiner. And there was still blood all over the pavement. Any lingering traces of his arousal from this morning were quite obliterated now.

"Dr. Pearson said that the killer may have shot him from anyone of those windows up there. She won't be sure until a full autopsy is completed and a analysis is done by ballistics."

"So he was simply killed, and probably that was the only motive. The man was a drug pusher and also in a gang, and so he certainly wouldn't have been a prime candidate for life insurance. He must of pissed off some rival gang or cut in on someone's action or some crap." Ray suggested the idea but he really didn't believe it to be so simple, he had thought there would be more to this case, and somehow he knew. Nothing is that simple.

"That was the first thought to cross my mind, Vecchio. But the thing is we may possibly have a witness of our murderer."

"A possible witness?" Fraser perked up now and was fully alert; maybe this case will not be so routine after all. He liked cases like that.

"Yeah. Some homeless guy who lives in one of these warehouses. He may have seen who the killer was, or so he says, but we couldn't really question him because was pretty drunk. I had absolutely no idea what the hell he was saying."

"Oh, great." Ray groaned.

"Yeah, so we had him taken down to the precinct to sober up in a holding cell, and hopefully we'll be able to question him soon."

"Then Benny and I will head down since there's not much to do here now. We'll see ya in a little while."

"Hey, Ray. How are you feeling?"

Ray regarded Huey with a serious and pleased face, and turned to head for his car. "I never been better, Jack. Let's go Fraser."

"Um, yes Ray. Goodbye, Detective Huey."

Sitting safe in the Riv again, Ray let out a long sigh and gazed at his lover sitting there quietly with his stetson neatly on his lap. He actually made it through with Fraser standing by his side as if nothing had changed between them, and so maybe the outside world wasn't such a stinking hellhole after all.

"I meant that, Benny."

Fraser looked up at him puzzled. "Meant what, Ray?"

"That I have never been better, Bennylove." He revved up the classic Riviera to head to the 27^th precinct.

<><><><>

Lieutenant Welsh looked out upon the sea of chaos known as his bullpen with a coffee in hand from his office door. It was a three-ring circus this bullpen of his, and a cheesy soap opera as well. And he was lord and master of it all. He sadly shook his head; retirement seemed a thousand years away. Nothing more than a cheesy soap opera.

The soap opera's most interesting character glided in, with a red Mountie and a white wolf at his side riding shotgun. Vecchio was a real character all right. The Lieutenant was still trying to figure this cop out.

Vecchio wasn't a bad cop; actually, he was pretty damn good. It's just he did everything with too much flamboyance and pizzazz. This is Chicago, not goddamn Las Vegas.

And now he came with this strange Canadian Boy Scout joined at the hip. The guy is never going to make Lieutenant being this way; the higher-ups don't like it when you rocked the boat. He should know.

But he had to admit; Big Red did have a good influence on the detective. Vecchio seemed maturer, calmer, even a little subdued for an emotionally charged Italian. Now these days the detective only annoyed him, whereas before all he wanted to do was wrap his hands around his pencil neck and choke him to death.

With a sigh Welsh grabbed a file from his desk and walked out into the bullpen, its inhabitants parting for him like the Red Sea. He approached the two men in gray and red.

"Ah, Vecchio, we're all happy you're still alive. The gentleman you are to question is not ready yet."

"Uh, why not sir?" Ray's face assumed that old familiar 'it's not my fault' look.

"Well, the man in question is being de-liced."

"Huh?"

"He is being de-liced, detective. The man has a bad case of head lice."

Ray made a face. "I thought he was drunk?"

"Well, in addition to being a drunk, he also has lice."

"Damn." Ray may wind up at the precinct all day at this rate. He really needed to get Benny home as soon as possible. Why is this his life?

"Unless you still want to question our witness, detective? Do you want lice, Vecchio?"

Ray didn't have much hair on his head, but he still had hair at other places on his body.

Deif whined.

"Well, not today, sir."

"Well, glad to hear it. I wouldn't want my detectives running around with a bad case of lice, creates a bad image for our department."

"Uh, yes sir."

"So in the meantime, detective, I want you to go over the McNally case."

"Uh, well sir, I thought today I was kinda off duty."

"Well, Vecchio, you're kinda wrong." Welsh slapped the file into the detective's hands and stalked back into his office with his coffee mug.

"Ah, Jeez." Ray rolled his green eyes and sighed the sigh of a doomed martyr.

"Let's get to work, Benny." The men were at the familiar desk now, and Fraser took his usual seat by the side. He might as well carve his name into the chair.

"Hey, Benny. You don't mind typing these reports out for me? I know how much you like to type."

"Well, really Ray, it's not a matter of me liking to type. I just happen to be very efficient at it."

"Well, I know how much you like to be efficient, Fraser." The detective handed him the reports from his desk. "Oh, when ya done, can you file them for me. I'll see ya in a few."

Ray hurried off to do some detective stuff, and Fraser obediently sat at the typewriter. He really didn't mind doing this for his friend. Anyway, if Ray were to type all these reports himself they would be here all night long. And besides, Fraser had other plans for his partner.

He lifted his head from his typing to watch his Italian lover flutter about the bullpen, collecting files, making phone calls, and bothering Elaine.

Ray was always fast, alert and active, and he now reminded Fraser of a humming bird with his sharp accuracy, nervous energy, and bright colors. Ray naturally belonged to the bullpen; he could really exist nowhere else. Well, except at Wall Street.

Ray finally plopped down at his desk, coffee in one hand and vending machine cheese danish in the other. "You finished typing all that mindless crap, Benny?"

"Oh. Not yet, Ray." Fraser resumed his quick pecking at the keys.

"You know, Benny, I would type it myself, but my hands are kinda worn out today, if you know what I mean." Ray glanced wickedly over his coffee mug at his partner.

"Oh." Fraser blushed and he hit the wrong key. He got out the bottle of whiteout.

Chuckling, Ray poured over a file concerning yet another homicide, and he carefully sipped his coffee. Fraser watched as his friend consumed the danish, breaking off a piece with his thin fingers and putting it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing, and that lovely fluid motion of his Adam's apple.

Breaking off yet another piece of the pastry, the detective quickly slipped it under the desk and his hand now came back up miraculously empty. There were also sounds of chewing and wet slobbering under the desk. Obviously, Ray was feeding Dief again.

"Ray, are you feeding Diefenbaker again?"

"Uh, why no Benny. Why do you ask?" Ray gave his best 'wide-eyed Chicago Detective look.' He was also lying, too.

"Because, Ray, I hear Diefenbaker under your desk, and it sounds like he is consuming food."

"Well, maybe it's not what you think, and he consuming something entirely different."

Ray lifted his eyebrows and gave him a very sexy sneer.

Fraser looked at his friend.

Ray's sense of humor can at times be quite peculiar, even twisted. Fraser couldn't wait till they were back at his apartment so that he can fuck Ray senseless.

Welsh ended this funky mood by announcing that the de-liced derelict was ready for questioning.

<><><><>

The interrogation room seemed to be the center of attention in the precinct, and the drunk at the table the ringmaster. Obviously the man had a sense of humor, since all of the occupants of the room, including Detective Huey, were laughing at him. Welsh broke up the joyous mood, and everyone was ready to hear the witness's statement now that he was sober and free of bugs.

Ray and Fraser sat down at the table besides Huey, and the old drunk stared at the Mountie in bright red with a quizzical look. Welsh left the room to get a better view through the one-way mirror.

Huey got the ball rolling. "Okay, state your name for the record, please."

"My name is Mr. Theodore Jenkins. Now can I go home?"

Huey sighed. "All right, Mr. Jenkins, that's enough jokes for now. Now just tell us clearly what you saw this morning at the docks."

"Well, I was returning home after of long night of doing nothing in particular, and I find this girl in my house..."

"A girl in your house? You have a house?"

"Yep. My house is the old Deacon warehouse. I've been living there for the past two years. I found the other warehouses a little drafty, and the rats..."

"What about this girl you saw?"

"Well, she wasn't exactly a girl, more like a lady. I just found her by one of my windows, just staring out, and waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Fraser spoke up, intently watching the old man, studying him.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Did you speak to her? Did she see you?"

"Hell no! She looked like trouble. I was going to kick her out of my house, but I thought better not to."

"Why did she look like trouble, Mr. Jenkins?"

"Well shit! The lady had this big gun! I wasn't going to mess around with her."

"Was it rifle?" Huey looked at the witness a little surprised. A woman with a big gun was quite unlady-like.

The drunk shrugged. "I guess so. It was big and she had it pointing out the window, just standing there and waiting."

"Was it a big gun like this?" Ray got up from his chair, and lifted his arms up into the air as if he was holding a rifle.

"Yeah, except she was pointing it out the window and just waited there."

Ray frowned at him. "Are you sure she didn't see you?"

"Yep. I just left."

Huey sat forward and looked at the old man seriously. "Okay, Mr. Jenkins. Can you give us a description of this woman?"

"Yeah. She was really pretty, tall and skinny too. She could be a model. She had a black coat on. Um, she had really long dark brown hair, kinda curly too. And dark brown eyes..."

Ray felt a cold streak run up along the curve of his body and he was not too sure why. Did all pretty women with long dark hair always remind him of Victoria? Not all women with dark hair were killers, and thieves, and liars, and evil... It couldn't be her, no way.

Not now.

Was he just being a little paranoid and maybe a little over-protective of his partner? Ray couldn't help it. His luck with newfound love had always been pretty bad.

Ray quickly glanced over to Fraser, but the pale face was expressionless and stone cold. He couldn't read his Canadian friend at all, despite their bodily and heartfelt bonding from this morning. Damn you, Benny!

Fraser did speak though, his voice steady and calm and revealing absolutely nothing. "Do you have any idea how long she was by the window?"

"Not sure, but I guess all night."

"Why do you think it was all night, Mr. Jenkins?"

"Well, she had a thermos with her, and a brown bag, like fast-food or something. She must have been there a long time to bring food and stuff."

Fraser now regarded the old man. He was actually clever when sober.

"Would you be able to spot her in a line-up?" Huey added.

"Hell, yeah! She was really pretty. Hmm."

The old drunk now eyed the Mountie with slight amusement. "What's with the uniform? Is your criminal Canadian?"

They all just sat there looking at the old man silently, and Huey finally broke the strange silence. "That will be enough for now. You should be free to go soon."

When they got all the information they possibly can from the old drunk, the detectives and the Mountie left the interrogation room with more questions than answers. But they were use to this by now.

What Ray wasn't use to was Fraser's strange silence after an interrogation; usually the Mountie would be rambling on about all of his annoying observations and detailed theories and possible scenarios and yaddda yadda yadda.

The two friends silently walked down the hallway and Ray suddenly and swiftly pulled his partner into the small closet. They stood facing each other in the dark with the brooms and mops and buckets.

"Ray?"

"Okay, Bennylove. Talk to me."

"I do not understand?"

Ray heavily sighed. Here we go again!

"What is going on under that pelt of yours?"

"Um, nothing Ray."

"Do you think it's you know who?"

"Who Ray?"

Ray now wanted to strangle the man in the dark. Hadn't Fraser just bared his soul to him this morning, among other private things?

"You know who, Benny. Okay?"

"Honestly Ray, I do not know whom you are referring to."

"Victoria." Ray stared at him hard, quite difficult considering the pitch black. So he listened instead to Benny's breathing, and maybe his heartbeat.

But the Mountie didn't miss a beat. The breathing was steady and the voice was steady and sure. "Ray, it is impossible to know if the killer was Victoria or not with so little physical evidence, so it would be too early to jump any conclusions."

Ray closed his eyes, no darker now than in the closet with his eyes opened. Aaaagh! Please, Benny. Don't fuck around with me, not now. Please.

But maybe his partner was right. Why would the killer be necessarily Victoria? Why now? There were a lot of deranged women with dark hair running about out there in Chicago with guns, and Victoria certainly wasn't alone. Hell, he was shot be a woman doctor who had no prior convictions. So why should the killer be Victoria now?

Maybe because of his own battered confidence and ego? Just because he finally got to be intimate with Benny doesn't mean the whole world wasn't going to blow up in his face. Shit, the world didn't revolve around Ray Vecchio, and the world wasn't certainly going to stop revolving because Ray Vecchio finally got to make his best friend come. God, who do he think he was anyway? The Pope?

So why should Victoria have to be the killer? Just because Ray touched Benny's cock? Jeez, Ray, get a grip! Why did he have to be so tragic all the time? Was his Italian blood very much like romantic Italian operas, like La Traviata?

"I'm sorry Benny. Maybe I just freaked out over nothing, okay? I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid or crazy. But you would tell me anything that is bothering you, right?"

"Of course I would, Ray. Do not worry yourself. We just need to wait and see what develops, and as I said, it is too early now to jump to any conclusions."

To convince the detective, Fraser quickly stepped up to kiss him lightly on the mouth, missed it the dark and got his nose instead. Oh well. Fraser desperately hoped it would work despite what he really felt on the inside.

"Okay, Benny." Ray was not entirely convinced, but he didn't feel like standing in the dusty dark for the next several hours trying to get the Mountie to fess up with a broomstick poking his ass.

Both men came out of the closet and were spooked when a gruff deep voice spoke right behind them.

"All right, gentlemen, is there something you should be telling me?"

Both the Mountie and the detective spun around simultaneously, and for an odd moment Welsh was reminded of ballroom dancing.

"Excuse me sir?" They both stood there confused and blinked at the older veteran cop, their eyes still painfully adjusting to the bright light of the hallway.

"Is there something one of you guys should be telling me. Best to do it know." Welsh wearily sighed. Had they done this song-and-dance routine a million times before? The Lieutenant had a creepy feeling that another weird and bothersome case was lurking around the corner again, a courtesy from the Canadian and the Italian.

"There is nothing going on, sir."

"I suppose I'll find out later, Vecchio, when I take your badge away and use it as my paperweight?"

"Uh, no sir."

The Mountie stood up to offer his reassurance. "Uh, Leftenant Welsh, I assure you, everything is fine and nothing is wrong, sir."

"Oh, well, if *you* say so Constable, then I'm absolutely sure it is." The old cop sadly shook his head and made him self a mental note to expect a really big mess coming his way very soon, and perhaps a call from the Police Commissioner, or maybe the Mayor?

"Ah, well thank you, sir."

Welsh rolled his eyes at the Mountie and walked off to the quiet sanctuary of his office, as far away from the two men as he can get. But never far enough, he felt.

Ray pulled Fraser to the side. "Um, Benny? I think the Lieutenant was being sarcastic."

"Ah. You think?"

The two men were finally exiting the precinct into the cold night air, and Ray felt a growing excitement in his chest. He was going to get the Mountie alone at last, and he nervously fumbled for his keys to unlock the Riv.

Benny would soon be all his, he thought quickly driving away from the curb. And with time, as he drove straight through his third stop sign and a subdued Fraser not saying a single word, Ray's silly grin was now becoming false.

The trip home to Fraser's apartment was quiet, expect for an odd comment or two by Ray about nothing in particular and Dief hotly breathing down his long neck. Fraser just sat there staring straight-ahead, chin up, and his blue eyes bright, concealing as much as it highlights. And Ray was beginning to seriously think that he was not going to have sex tonight. Oh no.

Was the Mountie getting nervous? Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? Guilty? Fraser had all day to think about what they done this morning, or really what was done to him this morning. Fraser was always thinking, goddamn it! Did they do the wrong thing?

Ray parked his Riv in front of the apartment and turned off the engine. "We're here."

"Yes Ray."

Both men exited the car and entered the building and Ray noted the lack of light in the hallway, all of the light bulbs were either broken or burnt out. Damn. Maybe he'll just buy a hundred light bulbs for the all tenants instead of letting them wait on Dennis their miserable super; he'll just be Santa Ray.

They both climbed the stairs and so far the Canadian hadn't protested Ray's presence at his heels. Maybe Fraser was only nervous after all. Ray let out a little sigh, and soon they were back inside the small bare apartment.

Ray stared at Fraser's broad back covered in bright red, and he wondered what it would be like to feel himself tightly pressed up against that vast expanse of flesh and hard muscle. Probably like climbing a huge tree trunk? Hmm.

"Hey Benny." His friend turned around in response to his voice, and Fraser was looking at him a little scared? Uh oh. Ray will have to be careful and gentle. That's okay with him.

Ray, with his shaking hands went for the red waist and Fraser slightly stepped back out of his reach, and it felt like a pulling pain, like pulling teeth.

"Benny?"

The Mountie looked down, trying hard to find the words hidden under his feet that may now come out of mouth to transmit to the detective helplessly standing in front of him.

"It just that we had a long day, and I have to be at work at the consulate tomorrow. I'm rather tired now, and I really need some sleep. Okay Ray?" Fraser stared at his feet some more, maybe waiting for his friend's tirade?

"Oh." There was a subtle sound of defeat in the detective's voice, as if Ray had suddenly been deflated of all of his air in that 'oh' like a party balloon.

"I hope you understand, Ray."

Ray simply shrugged, not disbelieving, just simply confused. A pain again, in his stomach, a nervousness, a warm churn like illness and he ignored it. Benny was his priority now.

Fraser did look tired, and both of them hadn't slept since the night before.

"Of course I understand. It's okay. But it's nothing else, right? Um, nothing else is bothering you Benny? It has nothing to do with what went on in the precinct, ya know?"

"I assure you, everything is fine, Ray."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Ray."

"Come on, Bennylove. Show me your smile."

Fraser weakly beared his teeth, it was a very pathetic attempt and inadequate and he knew it was inadequate.

Ray felt a little uneasy. Nevertheless, he stepped up to the Mountie to give him a big passionate farewell smooch for the night.

His Benny offered him only a chaste, cool kiss.

Huh?

Alarm bells rang inside Ray's head; something was not right now. Several hours ago his best friend was riding his hands to thy kingdom come, and now Ray was kissing a block of ice. Did he do something wrong? Was what he did with Benny this morning a mistake? Did he screw up again?

Ray started to panic, but he hid it from his friend with a reassuring smile. Best not to stir up trouble now; things between them were just too new and fragile. The penance of silence: lay off and wait he told himself, and he did.

Maybe Benny was just only tired, that's all.

"I'll pick ya up tomorrow Benny?"

"Yes, Ray. Thank you kindly." And Fraser's nod was instant, accompanied by a dry clicking swallow and a "Goodbye Ray" more careful than ever, more brisk and detached.

The detective stole a fast peck on the pale cheek and left his friend to be alone in his apartment. Descending the dark stairs Ray felt a strange dread.

Cool it, Vecchio! The Mountie has been through a lot today! That's all. First he thought his best friend got killed, then Ray touched and fucked him with his hands, then a gruesome murder, and then the remote possibility of Victoria being back. Ray couldn't expect Fraser to hop into bed and ride him after all that. Right?

Fraser was human, after all. Jeez. He just had to remind himself of that, despite the blaring red heroic suit the Canadian constantly wore.

Driving home alone, Ray's brain jumped about in his skull, random thoughts coming and going and some of them not so nice. He was loudly arguing with himself like a bad TV lawyer, mapping out his side of defense thoroughly and with vigor.

"Did I do anything bad?" He asked the face in his rear view mirror, and his face answered with a blank stare. Then it answered with words. "I don't think so. Benny seemed willing and able, he wanted it and you gave it to him. Both of us wanted each other. We love each other."

"Of course." He told his face in the mirror, but the face answered back again, "But you have to admit, Benny is no brain surgeon when it comes to dealing with love."

Damn, that may be true. Ray respected Fraser's intelligence and all, but honestly, when it came to love the Mountie was a moron.

Victoria, Satan's sister, what a piece of work she was. Damn, what did Fraser see in her anyway?

And what's the deal with the Dragon Lady? Albeit she was no sinister she-devil like Victoria, but Thatcher wasn't exactly the type to share giggles with you under the sheets. Ray imagined if he had to make love to the woman, he had better bring an ice pick.

Ray had to admit that he was no Don Giovanni himself, but still he had picked out some pretty good souls in his lifetime Irene, Angie, all kind, decent, warm, soft-hearted women.

And what about Susan Chapin? Well, the jury was still out on that one, but she was cute and had a lot of balls.

And there was Benny. He had picked Benny, another good, kind, warm soul... shit! Ray sure knew how to pick them.

"But didn't Benny really start getting all weird and stuff at the precinct after the interrogation and when I mentioned Victoria's name?" He asked his reflection and his face pondered.

"What possibly would she have to do with Jeff Gillray, a small-time south side drug dealer that I had been tracking down for years?"

The possibility of Victoria being his killer was remote. Right?

A woman waiting by the window with a rifle, waiting for the drug dealer to show up, and at the very same time the man was being staked out by Detectives Huey, Dewey, Vecchio... shit! The tip off was an anonymous call and from a woman. Was it Victoria? How could he know? Huey was the one who took the call that day from his desk.

Was Jeff Gillray just used as bait to lure out Benny and himself? And for what?

Maybe to kill them once they left the safety of the Riv to make an arrest? Did she set them up for target practice?

With all those abandoned warehouses and endless dark windows, she had a pretty clear shot at them both and she didn't have to be a sharpshooter for that. A few adequately aimed shots would do the trick.

But would she have really killed Benny? Maybe she would, the whack job seemed to love and hate the Mountie depending on the alignment of the moon and the stars. Or maybe she wouldn't, who the hell knows?

Would she have killed Ray? Oh hell double-yes! Did he not stop Benny from running away with her by shooting him in the back?

Ray saw his reflection wince in the mirror. "I shot him, my best friend."

She and Ray weren't exactly best buddies, even though he let her sleep in his sister's bedroom. And after all, Ray did promise he would kill her if she ever hurt Benny. It was a probably a matter of time before they lock horns again. Both are probably destined to kill each other off as part of God's grand plan, with poor Benny the spectator watching and wringing his hands. Oh well.

Then why would she kill Jeff Gillray? What did he do to her? Well, the man did not show up at the required time as tipped off by that anonymous call, and the stakeout was then considered a bust. Gillray shows up late, right after they had left, and she was so pissed off at him that she shot him instead? Maybe she was venting out her frustration? Never depend on a junkie to keep time. Vicky should have known better.

"Hey, wait, wait. Don't jump the gun, wait for the evidence." Ray the cop told himself. "Just wait and see. Shit."

Benny is just tired; it had been a long day. It had nothing to do with you or him. You're going to be okay. "You better be right," Ray told his face in the rear view mirror.

He looked around slightly surprised; he had already arrived home and was parked in his driveway. He must have been sitting in his Riv all this time thinking and talking to himself; even his ass was beginning to hurt from sitting so long. Damn.

Ray silently entered the old dark house, all the Vecchio occupants in bed and asleep by now. He thought he heard the soft pitter-patter of feet upstairs, signifying that either one of his nephews or nieces may still be up goofing around. He ignored it and wearily went to the kitchen, flicking on the light switch.

Stuck on the refrigerator door was a small yellow sticky note addressed to him, and he read it:

Dear Ray,

Please eat me.

Love, Frannie.

He opened the refrigerator and found a plate of dinner for him wrapped in cellophane, and he took it out with a loud sigh. Why did Frannie always have to be such a smart-ass?

Ray tossed it into the microwave and got himself a coke, wishing it were a beer, and dug around in the utensil drawer looking for a fork. He now thought he heard a door open and close somewhere upstairs, and he shrugged. Living in house full of Italians was eventually going send him to the funny farm.

He removed his plate from the microwave, still somewhat cold, and decided to buy a new microwave for his mother. His mother loved using the microwave, and he should get her a really high-tech expensive one with a thousand and one buttons.

A short plump woman, her auburn hair up in curlers and wearing a pink fuzzy robe, quietly stepped into the kitchen and smiled at her son. Her face was covered with a shitty white goo.

"Aaagh, Ma! God, what have you done to yourself?" Ray winced at his mother; he was only gone for two days!

"Raimundo! Is that anyway to greet your mother!"

"Um, no ma'am. Hello, Ma. May I ask what have you done to yourself?"

"Frannie is having me use the beauty products she is selling at the department store. She told me this night cream will make me look years younger."

He figured Frannie was behind this. She tends to run amuck when he was gone from home for too long, and his mother tended to be the victim of her crazy little schemes.

"Ah, Ma. You don't need all that crap, we all know you're the sexiest woman in this house." Ray pursed his lips to keep from laughing and bowed his head to concentrate on his dinner. His mother was standing over him, ready to scold him when she suddenly snatched his plate out from under him.

"Raimundo! This food is cold! Why didn't you heat it up in the microwave?"

"But, Ma..."

The woman ignored his protests and placed his plate into the microwave and set it at high. She hated using the microwave, it went against everything she knew as an Italian mother and a cook, but it seems that today everything had to be done the fast way.

They had a special relationship, a loving relationship of mother and son, and a power partnership in ruling the Vecchio home. She was the matriarch, dealing out order and justice while the son maintained the finances and commerce like a merchant prince. They effectively ruled the household like a small Italian city-state with Machiavellian precision.

She sat down at the table and stared at her dejected prince. He looked up with sad green puppy eyes, ready for his scolding now.

"Raimundo, caro? How many times I've told you to call me if you know you'll be gone for a long time at work? I never know what is happening to you when you don't let me know."

"I'm sorry, Ma. I have been very busy. I'll try to remember, but sometimes I get really busy, and ya know..."

"Do you want me to call Elaine at the precinct everyday to keep up?"

"No Ma! I mean, I promise to call you if I have to work late again."

"Good. And as for Benton..."

"What about him?" Ray's eyes widened in hazel shock, the guilt of their intimate morning encounter was now pouring out of him in a hot gush. Can his mother read it all over his face? It wouldn't be the first time! He still remembered the hamster incident with Frannie.

"I was going to ask if he was coming over for dinner on Saturday? Don't tell me you forgot to ask him?"

"Of course I asked him, Ma. He said he'll come, he likes your cooking."

Ray shrugged and looked at his mother, the fountain of knowledge and experience. Should he ask her the question that has been nagging him all day? Hell, why not?

"Ma, can I ask you a question?"

"Caro, you can ask me anything."

"Um, how did ya know Pop loved you?"

"What Raimundo?"

"Um, ya know Ma? How did ya know Pop loved you?"

She looked at the man in front of her, still the little boy to her and now he asked this strange question regarding his father. A father that did not see the unique beauty of this boy, and here was Raimundo asking about him still after all these years.

"Well, Raimundo, I just knew. In my heart, I just knew, though he wasn't the best husband or father. He had many faults, I admit, and he had caused me much misery. But still I knew. It is something you just feel in your heart. Why do you ask such a question?"

"Oh, just curious I suppose. No big deal." Ray uncomfortably shifted in his seat and looked over to the humming microwave, now impatient and hungry for his rotating meal on the nuclear carousel.

"Did you meet nice girl today?"

Ray stared at her with some burning shame. "Um, no Ma."

Ray certainly did not meet a nice girl today! But he did meet a really nice boy, the nicest Canadian boy on earth!

A loud 'ding' signified that the microwave was done nuking the plate of food, and Ma Vecchio placed the dinner in front of her son. He kissed him on the head and went on her way to bed.

"Raimundo, I love you. Do you know that, caro?"

"Of course I do, Ma."

"And how do you know?"

Ray caught on quickly and grinned at her, pointing to his heart with his finger.

She left him alone smiling, and the detective painfully burned the roof of his mouth on the super hot food. He'll definitely get a new microwave for his mother, and he cleared his plate.

He wearily dragged himself up the stairs to the bathroom and was grateful another Vecchio didn't occupy it, they were all asleep now. Maybe it was a blessing to work late. It would be a bigger blessing to build an extra bathroom.

The detective stripped himself down and checked himself out in the mirror. Yep! The bruise was still there on his stomach, soon turning into all kinds of crazy psychedelic colors.

He looked hard into his hazel eyes, searching for any changes that might indicate that he had been intimate with his partner's cock today. Ray couldn't see any signs of change; his outer appearance still the same as it was yesterday and the day before, except that he looked a little battered now.

But his insides felt completely foreign to him, all his organs now transplanted and his blood now water. He had wanted his best friend for so long that he knew nothing else; that deep want was second nature to him, until now. Now that he had Benny, he hardly recognized himself anymore. He had lost what he knew and gained his lover.

He had to recreate himself. He was a new man now, a man in love with another man. God, it almost sounded like a poem. When was the last time he had read a poem?

Ray climbed into the hot shower and he allowed the water do its job. He wondered how long Benny had loved him before his morning revelation. Was it love at first sight, when they first met? Or did the love grow gradually and beautifully in the Mountie's heart? Or did he simply wake up one day and suddenly realized that he was in love with Ray?

Ray wanted to ask him, his curiosity getting the better of him. He was sure Benny wouldn't mind telling him, perhaps after making love with him? Just to be romantic, of course.

He stepped back and let the hot spray directly hit his groin. That was a big mistake.

"Damn it!"

Looking down, he saw himself become fully erect, the mystical mechanism of the male penis lifting and filling out to a great rod the color of a dull sunrise. And out of habit, instinct, or need, he lightly gripped himself and felt a healthy pang up the curve of his body now indicating that more had to be done.

With his fingertips he slowly began tracing the swollen and throbbing length of himself, wanting that release he had needed all day, that he had needed for the past three years he had known Fraser. He almost had it this morning. Almost.

Stupid fucking cell phone!

He delicately pursued the underside of his shaft, his other hand now resting flat against the tile wall of the shower for support. Warm water pouring down his face had blurred his sight.

And the sight of his Mountie swallowing him whole and Ray could just feel himself slip down inside his friend's warm throat, if only now his right hand can convince him of that.

Applying more pressure to himself, he stroked and pumped with his fist, the intensity building and building, but not really going anywhere. He frantically pumped harder, desperately trying to capture that fleeting groove.

Absolutely nowhere. Damn, please.

Nowhere.

He and his cock had hit a brick wall.

He just couldn't do it. It was just like cheating on Benny in a strange, unnatural way. Simply jacking off in the shower while thinking about Fraser seemed improper, even downright indecent. He simply couldn't do it to himself or Benny.

Poor, innocent, naïve, kind-hearted Benny.

Uh? Hello? Wasn't that Fraser dry humping your hands this morning?

Well, that was different.

Well, it was! Damn it!

He then let go of himself with a whimper.

If he was going to come because of Benny, he wanted it to be from Benny touching him and making love to him. If he wanted that release, it would be from Fraser's own hand, not his own. God, he has been hanging around the Mountie way too long.

So instead of reaching for his dick, he reached for the faucet knob and blasted the shower to ice cold.

It was going to another long and sleepless night.

<><><><>

Fraser sat motionless at his kitchen table for nearly two hours, staring at a cold mug of untouched tea alone again in his apartment like the night before, and the night before that.

But it didn't have to be this way.

Ray could have been here if he had let him, making love to him in his own bed. Each man will have his turn, and Ray would come first because the man had that pleading look in his eyes that he really needed it. Then they would just drift off to sleep in each other's arms, content and satiated. Right?

But instead he chose this, sitting alone in the dark. Why?

Victoria.

What if she was back?

No, she is not back. Impossible, not now.

Ray hands still burned on his cock, and he shuddered. He had loved him with his heart through those genteel hands, hands so warm and soft and gentle.

Ray with his strange beautiful face. Those green jewel eyes; Fraser had never seen really green eyes before he met Ray, he mostly observed either basic brown or blue. But Ray's eyes were forest green with life and love, deep green like vegetation and springtime.

And that nose, so long and so exotic. Fraser had taken many courses in art, especially some in Renaissance art. He remembered studying the paintings of Botticelli and of his numerous portraits of the aristocratic Medici family patrons with their proud faces and long stern noses. Ray had almost the exact same nose; he may possibly have the blood of Italian aristocracy running through his veins.

Oh God! Here he was mooning over his best friend like he had done so many nights before, but this time knowing for certain he would've had his best friend if he had only let him stay. Fraser could possibly be making love to a Florentine nobleman tonight if he wasn't so wrapped up in his own Victoria-induced misery.

But is Victoria really back? There was not much evidence showing that she is necessarily back, or even the killer of their Mr. Gillray. But he felt something, a sensation of knowing, of sensing.

Like the first time she had arrived to Chicago, when he thought he had caught a glimpse of her on a busy street but wasn't sure. But he felt her on that street, knew she was here and was waiting for him.

And he felt that now, he didn't need physical evidence. But why now?

It has been nearly two years, in fact, next week will be the two-year anniversary of their disastrous encounter... she must be back, he simply felt it, and now he felt sick.

Did he still love her? Maybe a little part of him does, and will always do, but he had seen her dark side and the damage she had purposely done not only to him, but also to his partner Ray.

Ray, who didn't deserve it, punished by a ruthless Victoria for simply being Fraser's friend. Ray, deemed guilty by association.

Fraser will never forgive her for that and for what she nearly made him do: Run off with her and leave Ray to take the fall.

What she nearly made him do? It was only Ray's bullet that had stopped him, and not anything else, not his honor, not his duty, not his sense of justice, not even his loyalty to his friend. Only Ray's bullet had stopped him from running blindly into her arms. Only Ray had stopped him, and his friend was even further punished by terrible guilt and by Fraser himself for shooting him in the back.

Ray being punished for only offering his friendship and help by the both of them.

Did it seem Ray suffered the most from this ordeal?

Not this time. He loved Ray too much. Ray will be safe this time.

He did not want Ray to get involved again, hurt again, by Victoria and him. Ray went through enough. This was his struggle and his problem, and this time he'll handle it on his own and not drag Ray down like he did the last time. This time Ray will be safe, along with his house, his family, his badge, and his life. He will be safe.

Victoria will eventually come for him, he knew. All he had to do was wait. And when she comes he'll do exactly what he had done so many years ago. He will arrest her and send her to prison.

<><><><>

Fraser stood still like a statue at the curb, waiting for his morning ride to the consulate under the cold dawn sun. He heard Dief softly whining, nudging his leg with his snout. The sharp wolf sensed an odd shift in his pack mate, an imbalance of his being. His mate even smelled different, too. Something is wrong.

"Diefenbaker, I am fine and you are fine. We are all fine. I do not see why you have to be so melodramatic."

* Whine *

"Fine, be that way, it's your precious time."

Fraser didn't like being rude to the concerned wolf, but Dief has been bothering all night, nagging him and nagging him.

A green Riviera swooped up in front of him and Fraser politely opened the passenger door for the wolf, and he himself climbed in. "Good morning Ray."

"Hey, Benny." Ray gave him a shy smile and quickly squeezed the Mountie's knee. Fraser looked up to say something but his partner focused his gaze on the road as he swiftly pulled from the curb.

"Um, Benny? Are you okay? You look a little tired."

"Ray, I'm fine."

* Whine *

"What's the matter with you furface?"

Fraser sighed with impatience. "Ignore him Ray, he has been like that all morning."

"Does he have a reason to be?" Ray turned his head to look closely at his lover, analyzing him, inspecting him, and Ray's eyes were on the road again. Fraser felt slightly uncomfortable under such scrutiny and squirmed in his seat.

"What do you mean, Ray?"

The cop simply shrugged. "I'm just saying that maybe the furbag is worried or upset by something."

"Ray, he is spoiled and the city is making him weak. It is the urban influence..."

"Jesus Benny! Give the wolf a break!"

"Ray, he is not your wolf."

"Thank God."

"Ray, what is wrong?"

"You know Benny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

Both men wearily sighed at the same exact time, and for a split second Ray felt like laughing.

"Bennylove, is everything okay?" Ray sugar-softened his voice to pull at his friend's heartstrings, hoping that would get the stern Canadian to open up at least a little.

"Ray, I'm fine, I assure you. I think we are just both a little anxious and nervous over what happened yesterday morning..."

"You don't regret, do you?" Ray's voice sounded an octave higher in his near panic and his tight grip on the steering wheel looked actually painful, like he was strangling a snake.

Fraser quickly jumped in to allay his friend's fear. "No, Ray! I am glad it happened. I will never forget what you have done for me as long as I live. I will always be grateful to you."

Ray started to laugh at him. "Jeez, Benny. You sound like I saved your life or something."

"Maybe you did, Ray."

"So maybe you wouldn't mind me saving you again, huh? Maybe tonight?"

"Well, you are my *hero* Ray."

"Oh God Benny, you are such a smart ass."

"I happen to like your ass too, Ray, and wouldn't mind being in it."

"Jesus Christ Benny! It's too early in the morning to be talking that way! I'll be walking around with a hard-on all day at work!"

Fraser dramatically folded his arms and stared straight ahead with his chin defiantly up. "It serves you right."

Ray was now glaring at him and he went through a red light.

"Oh yeah! Well, you think of this Benny while you are doing guard duty today: I walk up to you outside the consulate and you're standing there and you can't move, and I get down on my knees in front of you and I pull out your cock and suck you so hard your hat catches fire. And I'll keep sucking and licking you until you give me every drop, and you better not make a fucking move because it's your duty, you hear me? You will come down my throat and you will not make one move or not one sound, because you are suppose to be defending Canada. Oh yeah baby, it's like I'm fucking all of Canada. Italy is now fucking Canada, Benny."

"Oh God, Ray..." Fraser gasped and suddenly felt his groin ache and throb at Ray's eccentric little reproach.

The Riv now pulled up to the curb. "Here we are Benny! Have a nice day at work, babe."

"Ray, oh God."

"Benny, we are at the consulate, you can leave now. Um? Is there something the matter?" The detective was now looking at Fraser's lap with mock sympathy. "Better not have the Dragon Lady see that Benny, she may actually think it's for her."

Ray had the smuggest face Fraser had ever seen, and Fraser couldn't believe it. Sometimes he just couldn't believe what Ray was capable of.

"Ray, how could you..."

"Out you go Benny. Have fun at work. See ya."

The flustered Mountie stumbled out of the car and he nearly closed the car door on poor Dief's tail. And Ray was waving goodbye, winking and smiling and being cute. The Riv sped off down the street and Fraser limped to the consulate's front door.

Fortunately, it was still early, and so there was no one was in the hallway and he was able to get to his office without any witnesses. He sat heavily at his desk with a moan. He should have known better to tease Ray like that. Playing with fire, right? Didn't he know Ray would always get him in the end? Well, he hoped to get Ray in the end tonight, and he instantly blushed at his wicked thought.

There was a timid knock at his door, a Turnbull sounding knock, and Fraser felt somewhat recovered enough to have at least one guest. "Come in, Constable."

The young shy Mountie entered with envelopes and papers in his hands. "Um, good morning sir. I hope you are feeling well, good to have you back, sir."

"Thank you Constable Turnbull. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I'm just dropping off your mail from yesterday, sir. I believe the Inspector will be glad to see you today as well." Turnbull dutifully placed the envelopes into Fraser's hand.

Fraser went leisurely through his mail, one envelope at a time. "Did anything of interest happen yesterday while I was absent?"

The young man blushed and stammered. "Um, well, I did spill coffee all over the Inspector's case reports, and she said... uh sir, all you all right?"

Turnbull couldn't help but notice Fraser's sudden and drastic change, his face turning ashen white and his hands slightly trembling, clutching hard a sheet a paper he had just read.

"Everything is fine, Constable. You may leave now."

"Um, yes sir." Turnbull closed the door and Fraser finally let out an agonizing groan.

He knew this would eventually happen one day, but now? Why did she have to come now? When he and Ray were finally together, still getting together, still trying to be together. Why now?

He looked at the unmarked envelope carefully, only 'Ben' was written on it.

And now he looked at the letter again, simple and sinister and straight to the point:

Ben,

I will come for you. I still want you.

Love, V.

Fraser felt extremely ill.

<><><><>

Elaine had known Ray for several long years. Several very long long years.

He was like the brother she never had and she thanked God for that. The man can be sweet as a lamb one moment and an irritable bastard the next. He certainly knew how to liven up her days, and she had to admit the precinct would be a much duller place without him. Elaine was also grateful to him for bringing that cute Mountie aboard, too. She guessed she owed him one, and so she was now looking for the detective to hand deliver him a message.

Elaine finally found Vecchio fighting and struggling with the vending machine again. "Hey, Ray."

Ray looked up with defeated frustration. "Yeah, Elaine?"

"I just got a call from Fraser. He'll not be able to see you for lunch, something came up at work."

"Oh damn. Oh, okay. Thanks Elaine. Did you get that file I asked for?"

The civilian aide noticed the ever so slight look of pained hurt on his sharp features, but the cop quickly assumed his familiar workaday mask. Had it something to with yesterday? Had it to do with Fraser?

"Are you okay, Ray?"

Ray shrugged and sat at the table with his coffee in a paper cup. "I'm okay."

Elaine sat down across from him, staring at him and the detective looked up. "What?"

"Huey told me what happened yesterday on the street, Ray."

"Everybody in the precinct knows I was human target practice yesterday. Jeez! So what?"

"No, Ray. Jack told me that you really freaked out and..."

"Damn it. I thought I saw a bullet plowing through me, okay? I think I'm entitled to go a little friggin' insane." Ray brought the cup up to his lips; his green eyes clouded by the coffee's steam and from him hiding his own inner thoughts. "But I'm all right now. Did you find that file for me yet?"

"And is Fraser all right?"

"Jeez, Elaine. He's absolutely fine, I was the one who was shot, not him."

"Fraser thought you were badly hurt or even killed, and that may sometimes affect a friendship..."

"Just about how much is Jack telling you?" It was very hard for Ray to keep his voice down, but somehow he did it and felt like congratulating himself.

Why can't people leave him and his friend alone? Everything was absolutely peachy fine. Why did everybody think they were Sigmund-fucking-Freud all of the sudden?

"I'm just saying that I am a little worried about you two guys. You two have a good thing going here, and I don't want to see you two mess it up..."

"Excuse me?" Cutting in again, his voice now louder than hers and he felt he was under some sort of special-spooky indictment here from Elaine. Shit, all he wanted was a crappy cup of coffee and his missing file.

"Well, you *men* never talk about your feelings and you rather keep things bottled up..."

Ray started to laugh uncontrollably, thinking of his little heart-to-heart yesterday with a wailing Benny in bed, his cock in his hands. He couldn't think of a more effective way to release bottled up emotions than that. Hmm, not too bad for *men*.

"Ray? Damn, what's so funny?"

"Look Elaine, we talked yesterday and we're cool, okay?"

Ray thought it best not to divulge more than that, knowing Elaine was rather fond of the Mountie and if she ever knew what was really going on between them she would shoot Ray herself. The thought made him somber now, realizing that quite a number of people may want to shoot him if they ever found out about him and Benny, maybe even his own dear mother.

Elaine rapidly picked up on the negative radiance that Ray now emitted and she looked at him hard. "Ray, if there is anything going on you know you can talk to me. Okay?"

"Sure, Elaine." Ray smiled at her; the cup felt like it weighed a ton. But not this time Elaine, oh God, certainly not this time!

He got up from the table and sweetly smiled again. "Now how about that file, Elaine?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, leaving the room empty handed.

Ray gulped down the last bit of his coffee, swallowing gritty coffee grounds, and he squeezed the damp paper cup in his hand and tossed it into the trash. Two-points!

It was time to go back to his desk and back to work. There was plenty of murder and mayhem to work on and there were plenty of files on that, too.

He'll just have to eat lunch by himself. He won't like it, but he'll do it.

<><><><>

"I'm not late, am I?" Ray asked himself again, now parked outside the consulate and not seeing the Mountie anywhere. He looked at his Rolex; it seemed to be working fine. Was he working late?

A Mountie finally did come out of the consulate, but it was only Turnbull. Ray rolled down his window and called out to him. "Hey, Turnbull! Is Fraser still working in there?"

The young man nearly jumped out of his skin at Ray's sudden voice, but he managed to recover somewhat and he timidly answered the Chicago detective.

"Um, no Detective Vecchio. Constable Fraser left a few minutes ago, sir."

"Really? Damn, was I late? Shit!"

Turnbull opened his mouth to answer, but the Riv quickly sped off the curb leaving the young Mountie to suck in blue exhaust fumes.

Ray drove only a few blocks before seeing a tall figure in red and a not so tall figure in white walking down the dimly lit street. Ray stepped on the gas and pulled up briskly to the walking Mountie and wolf.

"Hey, Benny!"

Fraser turned to him a little startled and agitated and he stepped back. "Ray?"

"Fraser, did you know I was going to drive you home? I wasn't that late, was I?"

The Canadian only shrugged. "I guess I forgot, Ray."

"So I wasn't late?"

"No, Ray."

Fraser then stood there very still, staring at him and Ray sat there staring at him, and now there was that unassailable feeling that something was wrong.

Ray sighed. "Well, aren't you and the wolf going to get in or what?"

The Mountie seemed slightly hesitant at first, one foot raised to take a step closer and then he opened the passenger door. Ray was getting a funny-weird feeling about this; he felt it all day at work, and Elaine didn't help the situation either.

With his guests fully loaded into his car, Ray put the car into drive, and he drove. Ray glanced at his friend now, and could clearly see something was amiss. His best friend looked haggard and as if he was about to puke his guts up.

"Hey, Benny. You really look sick. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong."

Ray loudly groaned. Knowing how to talk to talk to Benny: how to persuade, how to coax, how to open up, some difficult shit it really was. It was a real bitch.

"Please, Fraser. I know something is wrong, just tell me, okay? All you have to do is tell me."

"Ray, I am fine."

"Was it work? Did something happen at work? Was it the Dragon Lady? What did she do to you now? Did she fire you again?"

"Nothing is wrong, Ray, I assure you."

"Fuck!" Ray was getting sick of all this phony candor crap, all this politeness and professionalism and decorum and crap! Didn't he just make love to him with his own fucking hands only yesterday?

Fraser only stared straight ahead, a man of stone and granite, cold and hard, whereas Ray was purely heat and fire and photons. And everyone knows that fire cannot burn rock, and Ray was now hopelessly overwhelmed.

"Nothing is wrong, Ray."

"I swear to God, Fraser, you say that one more time I'll give you something to be wrong about!"

"Is there something wrong with you, Ray?"

"What? What the fuck are you doing to me?"

"Look Ray, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh Jesus, save me now!"

"What, Ray?"

* Whine *

"Shut up, furface!"

Ray angrily pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment, and he was seething and panting. Fraser was going to send his sorry Italian ass to the wacko rubber room, he swore to God he was! Why did Fraser keep doing this to him, why can't he just simply talk to him?

"Thank you kindly for the ride, Ray. I appreciate it."

"Benny, talk to me. I love you and you won't talk to me..."

"Ray."

"You won't talk to me..."

At that moment Fraser forcefully grabbed Ray's shoulders and yanked his partner towards him, Ray's shocked face was now in his face, nose to nose, green eyes to blue.

"Now you listen to me Ray! There is nothing wrong, I promise you! I had a bad day at work, that is all, do you understand? There is a few things I need to sort out, and I need a little time! That's all I ask of you, for some time. Things will get better soon, I promise."

"Benny, I don't know what... ummph."

Fraser pressed his mouth into the drenched heat known as Ray's mouth, painfully pushing in and plundering him, almost rudely. It had to be done, Fraser didn't know what else to do. He was going to protect Ray from *her* and this was the best he could do for now. He loved Ray and wanted to love him and be inside him until the man screamed on the top of his lungs, but first he had to protect him. That was the master plan.

Ray moaned and shuddered under the wet attack and grasped and grinded against the Mountie, wanting too much too soon and Fraser couldn't, it was just too soon. Fraser pulled and pushed himself away with a wail.

Ray sat there shaking and was very close to sobbing. "Please Benny, I want you. I want you to fuck me, I want..."

"No Ray, not yet. I need time." Fraser was curt and cold and straight to the point.

He quickly got out of the green classic car and the distressed wolf hopped out after him, softly whining.

Ray had his head leaning against the steering wheel; he was lost and confused and tired. Fraser was now reminded of that secret moment in the Riv, after the stakeout and before the diner, touching Ray with his hands in his car without his permission, like a common thief. He had taken so much from Ray, now it was time to give back.

"Ray, everything will be all right, go home and get some sleep."

Ray lifted his head and simply nodded, staring ahead and he quickly pulled away, driving away from God knows what. He didn't care, Fraser simply told him so.

The Mountie stood there, staring at the glowing red taillights in the dusk rapidly disappearing now down the street and out of his vision.

"Forgive me, my Ray."

<><><><>

A blinding snowstorm raged around him, and he nearly panicked, he had just lost all of supplies and his knapsack ... a day and a night and a day... and there were slender fingers in his mouth.

Ray?

He was being buried alive in snow, white under him and white above him, but he kept moving and climbing in the storm. He was in the middle of a total whiteout: 'By being both here and beyond, I am becoming a horizon.'

How could you? How could you do that to me? Ten years!

She's scared you'll take me away, Ray. I am going to take you away Ray. I am going to find you and protect you Ray, put your fingers into my mouth. Ray, open up for me, I promise it won't hurt.

"Ben? Wake up."

Fraser opened his eyes, squirming and sweating in his bed. Ray?

"I thought he killed you, I saw him shoot you. But I'm back, and things will be different now."

A dark woman sitting on the edge of his bed, with dark hair and dark eyes. Victoria had this darkness inside her...

"Ben, I'll be back for you soon. There are a few things I need to sort out, okay? I can't believe you are still alive! I saw that asshole shot you in the back. I still love you."

Ray?

"I swear it will be better this time, I'm no longer angry at you. I love you, and I'll be back soon. Okay?"

A cool kiss to his lips, a foreign cold mouth inside of his, and he flinched. Oh God!

"VICTORIA!"

Fraser abruptly sat up in bed, trembling and shaking, wet and cold with dream-sweat. His apartment was silent and empty, and he had a funny and odd taste in his mouth. The taste of another human being in his mouth, the taste of someone else's flesh.

It tasted not of Ray, the only flesh he desired. This was the taste of cold flesh, familiar yet uninvited, and feminine. It was certainly not Ray.

Victoria?

Fraser quickly jumped out of his bed ready to attack and he frantically ran about looking for the nightly culprit in his room, the dark woman he thought he had loved once. He opened his door to stare at an empty hallway, and walked further down to an empty staircase.

He quickly came back in; his spartan apartment was silent and empty with no sign of human or beast.

Dief? Where was Dief?

The white wolf was outside on the fire escape landing, whining and scratching at the closed window.

"Dief? How on earth did you get out there?"

* Whine *

Fraser immediately went to the window and opened it and the wolf hopped past him along with the winter cold, scurrying to the corner of the dim room.

"Diefenbaker?"

* Whine *

The Mountie quietly and slowly walked up to the wolf, very much like the time when they had first met, when the wolf had just saved him from drowning. They were now building trust, log by log, all over again.

"Dief? Everything is all right." What was going on?

The wolf whimpered and now nuzzled his hand, seeking warm reassurance from his alpha male.

"Dief, it is okay."

Was Victoria actually here?

His apartment was vacant, but he had that strange taste in his mouth that made him want to gag and Dief was locked outside his window.

He saw her in his dreams, dark and cold and seeping in with her unlit laminated eyes and her mouth like contagion. But was she really here? Oh God.

"Diefenbaker, do you smell her? Do you?"

* Whine * The wolf stared up with pleading amber eyes: Beware!

Was she really here or not? Even Fraser sniffed the air and smelled nothing but the cold Chicago winter and he suddenly realized that he left the window open when he had let Dief in, the frigid air swiftly blowing in to erase all olfactory evidence. He ran up and slammed the window closed. It was too late now, for him and the wolf.

Fraser slumped to the floor, sitting under his window listening to the wind howling outside, carrying away the possibility of Victoria.

He wished Ray were here with him, sitting by him on the floor. No doubt Ray would be complaining how uncomfortable and hard it was. He would try to make Ray comfortable, maybe by making him lie on his back or by having Ray lie on top of him.

Fraser desperately needed Ray now more then ever, but he also needed Ray to remain safe and untouched by Victoria.

If Victoria was indeed back again, she might have possibly been the one who had murdered Jeff Gillray, but had really wanted to kill Ray instead during that failed stakeout. They had all left and a very tardy Jeff Gillray was killed for not showing up at the right exact time, executed for his lack of punctuality.

But somehow Fraser managed to get Ray shot at anyway, didn't he? All he had to do was remain in the diner instead of running off to save all of mankind. Ray only wanted a cup a coffee, not a bullet to his gut.

The Mountie winced at the recent memory and groaned. Did Ray ever had such dangers thrown at him before he had known Fraser or Victoria? Were they both going to be the death of him?

He must not let himself lose control of the situation like the last time; of losing himself; there had been entirely too much harm done already through loss of control, harm to Ray and he would not, would not *see* it happen again.

He promised himself.

<><><><>

The Italian sat still at his messy desk, holding the phone like the barrel of a gun against his head and trying not to yell or swear, really trying hard not to scream into the receiver like a madman.

Exactly who's in charge here?

Ray silently asked that question of himself repeatedly as he slammed his phone down, hanging up on poor Ovitz as the young man was politely telling the detective that Constable Fraser had called in sick for work today.

Ray hadn't seen the Mountie for the past two days since that bizarre kissing incident in the Riv. Fraser had left even more bizarre messages on his answering machine: not to drive him to work, not to pick him up from work, not to meet him for lunch, not to do a damn thing. He was very busy, had to work early and late, he had no time, the consulate needed him, Canada needed him, and so stay away, please.

Don't do anything but wait and wait for him; Fraser needed time, that's what he said in the Riv. Do what he's says, right? He knows what he's doing. Right?

Wait for what? Why was Fraser doing this to him? Ray had never felt so guilty for doing absolutely nothing. So why was Ray waiting?

Because Fraser had told him so.

So exactly who's in charge here? Ray didn't mind doing a lot of things for his best friend, no matter how far-fetched or abnormal it was. But it was different this time. This wasn't about some tainted meat, or some abandoned baby's mother, or some pizza delivery boy's stolen car. This time it was about them: Benny and Ray. And Ray had to draw the line here, this was too important to him. It was about them being partners and friends, and now lovers.

Now Fraser wasn't at work and he had called in sick. He had actually called in sick today for work! Mr. Mountie himself! Well, so much for Canada.

And so much for Ray. The Mountie did not leave him a message this morning saying that we was not coming to work, in fact, he left no messages at all today and Ray wasn't sure whether to pick up him for work or from work or what?

Ray was now getting pissed off. Was Fraser actually jerking him around?

It seemed that every time Ray wanted the Mountie to open up and talk, Fraser would effectively dodge the issue: first by talking dirty to Ray in the Riv, and then kissing him in the Riv so hard that Ray certainly thought Benny was trying to suck his ribs up his neck. And each single time Ray would simply drive away with a silly shit-eating grin and none the wiser.

Why was Fraser doing this? What exactly was he hiding from him?

If Ray hadn't known any better, he could have sworn the Canadian had just swindled him.

Benny was pretty good at hiding shit, and Ray was pretty good at digging it up when he wasn't thinking with his cock. Not this time, Benny, not this time...

Ray threw on his overcoat and swiftly headed out of the bullpen. "Hey Elaine, I'm going out to lunch." Literally and figuratively, he sadly thought.

<><><><>

It took the Mountie several moments to realize that the pounding in his head actually came from the door, and not from a noisy blood vessel in his aching brain. And it took him another several moments to climb out of his narrow bed.

Fraser slowly and cautiously approached his knocking door and he opened it a crack, and the crack became a wide gaping hole as Ray pushed his way in, brushing past him like a hot blue flame.

"Ray?" Fraser was staring at his pacing friend, his fingers tight on the doorknob.

"Shut the door Benny."

Ray was now pacing in the kitchen, his face and figure wavering in the trickery of Fraser's exhausted sight, and Ray was trying to speak loud enough to be heard.

"This time you are going to talk to me, Fraser. I let you get away with it the first time, but this time you are definitely going to talk to me. And don't you dare think about kissing me to shut me up, either!"

"Ray? Please..."

Ray stopped his manic pacing pattern long enough to glare at his friend. "You did not show up for work today."

"Well, I'm not feeling well today. I did leave you messages, Ray."

"Oh gee-whiz! Thanks!"

"Ray? What is it?"

"What is it? You never take off from work! And you leave these weird-ass messages on my answering machine. And you are not talking to me anymore, I mean you are not really talking to me. Does this have anything to do with what we done that morning? I thought you wanted it to happen too."

"No Ray! I promise you."

"Are you absolutely sure? I mean, you have not one goddamn doubt nibbling at your brain?"

"I am sure, Ray."

"Then what is it? Tell me the truth, Benny!"

"Ray, it has nothing to do with what we feel for each other..."

"Is it Victoria?"

Fraser felt a cold wind blasting through his soul upon hearing that name, as if he was helplessly lost in a vast black landscape: how many pitfalls and holes and who knew where the border lay?

And Ray could read him, every shape and every nuance in him, like a bone grown wrong in his body or a shift in his blood flow from his pumping heart revealing all. Ray nodded to himself and lifted his eyebrows up; Fraser gave it all away and Ray knew.

"So Victoria has been here, hasn't she? Huh?"

Fraser was routed and discovered, and he merely shrugged with defeat. "I'm not sure."

Ray stared at him with wide aching eyes than grabbed his own shaven head with his hands as if he was trying to keep it from exploding. He slowly breathed and tried to calm himself down the best he could. His voice was now deadly quiet. "Benny, what the hell is that suppose to mean?"

"Um Ray, I'm not sure she was really here or not. What I'm actually trying to say is I may have dreamed she was here, I thought I dreamed of seeing her here, but I'm not sure if I was dreaming."

"What? You thought you saw you saw her in a dream? And you're not sure if you were dreaming or not? So she may have possibly been here?"

"She may or may not have been here Ray, but I'm not sure, I was exhausted and..."

"Why didn't you arrest her Benny?"

"I told you I thought I dreamed of seeing her, and I can't arrest a dream, that's just simply crazy, Ray."

"What! Who's the crazy one here, for Christ's sake! You got to be flippo-nutso, you got to be the most craziest Mountie in the world! You have no idea if she was really here or not, or if you dreamed she was here or not, or if that herbal tea shit you drink is fucking up your brains!"

"What do you want me to say? Please Ray, I'm telling you the truth!" Fraser helplessly lifted up his hands, a gesture of his powerlessness to get though to Ray, unable to achieve what he wanted and what Ray wanted.

"Tell me if you wanted to really arrest her, Fraser. Tell me that. Tell me you will not run off with her."

"What? Don't you trust me Ray?"

Ray stood there motionless, as if he was trying to decide on how to answer Fraser's question? Or was he trying to decide if he did trust Fraser or not? But Ray could not answer immediately, and his green eyes clouded.

And a long shiver ran down Fraser's spine, an involuntary tremor as if it was precursor to a seizure, a state, a vision: Ray did not trust him. His best friend and lover could not trust him. Has it always been like this? Is this what Ray thought of him?

Even Fraser could see things were breaking down, falling in, falling on them all like ordnance from a clear deadly sky. They were falling together: like a star's trajectory, like lines on a medical chart of a terminally ill patient. Falling and falling and falling.

"Did you fuck her?" A bad question that had to be asked and Ray's voice was almost conversational. "Or did you fuck a dream?"

Fraser turned his back on him in his frustration; with his tears falling and his terrible burning anger. Oh please stop! He wished Ray would stop! Stop!

"Stop it." Fraser said. "Just stop it Ray."

"You stop it! You're the one who is not making any sense Benny..."

"What do you know about it, anyway? This does not concern you Ray!"

"What? Jesus Benny! This concerns me in every way possible! Why, am I the outsider again? Am I always outside looking in? Why didn't you arrest her?"

Ray accusing, Ray trying to help, Ray yelling, Ray in the way. He wished Ray would leave him alone.

Fraser couldn't take it anymore, this was not Ray's problem, it was his! Only his! He was doing this only for Ray; all of this for Ray and Ray didn't even trust him!

"Stop it Ray!"

"The bitch tried to ruin you, she tried to destroy you! What's the hell is the matter with you? Damn it, Benny! She nearly killed you!"

Fraser swiftly turned on him now, his teeth bared and his rage incendiary, as if years of his angry bitterness leaking poison through the cracks had reached finally that point of ignition, as if he would literally explode before Ray's eyes: "But Victoria wasn't the one who shot me in the back!!!"

Ray stumbled back stunned, his body smacking against the kitchen counter almost knocking a cup to the floor and he was blinking. It looked as if he was punched in the face. Fraser turned his head from the sight, not wanting to look it.

No sound from Ray in the kitchen, no sound, nothing at all.

And he, Fraser, was standing there in the midst of his memorylessness, his absence of rational thought or calm or any of the words made so dreadfully necessary by this vile and dire situation, this deterioration over a period of a few days. What day was it anyway?

He squeezed his eyes shut, dark now all around him and very silent, waiting for Ray to reach his own flashpoint and go off on him.

More silence followed by quick footsteps and his door opening and closing.

Fraser finally opened his eyes to find a blurry and bright apartment, his eyesight slowly adjusting and no Ray anywhere.

His anger was instant and strong, surprising himself by its red-hot strength, but now it had dissipated just as quickly as it came, leaving his face disappointment only and his hands shaking badly.

Fraser's room seemed to be tilted as if somehow Ray's physical presence was necessary, a talisman, an anchor in his own apartment, but now gone or was he just suddenly dizzy? Fraser stumbled to his small bed and plopped down exhausted, and he waited for the walls to stop moving.

He closed his eyes, redness behind his lids from the harsh light coming from the window, now spotlighting him.

And outside the smell of exhaust, the remnants of a car pulling away from the curb in haste and the sun a brighter smear.

And the time and days they spent apart became smeared, like a dirty smudge.

<><><><>

She had a gun. She had a gun. She had a gun. She had a gun.

The mantra chant echoed inside the detective's head again like it did last night and the night before, his brain now no longer his. It now belonged to that pasty white bitch. She had a gun! He saw it with his own eyes! Black and shiny in her pale hand. A gun, that fucking harpy had a gun!

He swore to God that she had a gun. He would never shoot Benny intentionally! Shit no!

Ray lied sprawl out on his bed in his Armani suit, it was very late and he had a bad day at work. And his eyes were wide open and awake, defeating the bed's purpose.

Too wired up to fall asleep, and too exhausted to remove his suit. Fuck it all.

Ray could no longer sleep, and sometimes the restlessness was worse than the pain. But insomnia can be fixed with drugs. It was the pain he had to work on, and that required some work.

The best way was to shut himself down, not to feel anymore, and not to feel anything for anybody. Hell, it got him through the rough rookie years; he made detective pretty quickly that way. Just don't feel anything.

She had a gun.

Being alone was safe, no one to hurt you, no one to disappoint you, no one to fuck you up. Being alone was the best.

Being alone sucked.

Three years with the Mountie had made him too soft. He was stuck. He couldn't go back to the man he was before he met Fraser; he had gone too far already.

He was trapped. It felt like he was singing through a gag, like being inside a sack, a membrane too heavy and too thick to split. Stuck in glue.

"It's like what a baby must feel," Ray talking out loudly in his bedroom with a bitter smile. "Can't be born, can't get out. Can't do anything but squirm."

But he had to do something besides squirm. Staying up every night quietly cursing in his bed was driving him nuts and everybody at work was already staring at him.

Victoria was still a fugitive, and now that she may have possibly committed murder in a crazed fit of anger made his skin crawl. God knows what will become of Benny if she ever gets her claws into him again. And he knew she would be around to eventually scoop up the Mountie there in his apartment like a sitting duck. It was really a matter of time. Hell, was he too late?

It was not like he was going to sleep anyway. He could use a breath of fresh air.

Ray got up from his bed and dug around his dresser drawer for his backup gun and a box of ammo.

If Benny wanted the bitch back, well, that was his own business. As for Ray, he was first and foremost a detective and a street cop and obligated to arrest the fugitive. If the Canadian didn't like it, well, he can go and kiss Ray's Yankee Doodle Dandy ass.

Ray went to the door of his bedroom, now fully armed and loaded and pissed. He suddenly paused, his hand tightly gripping the doorknob.

He began to cry, silently. Hell, some feelings after all then.

The bedroom walls took no notice of him.

<><><><>

What is it like to never sleep? Sleep deprivation, an altered state. He heard one might actually die if one did not get sleep for several days: it was a scientific fact.

Fraser uncomfortably shifted in his tiny bed trying desperately to sleep, and thought he heard a noise again. He frantically got up, consciousness instant and aware as if a burglar had awakened him with a knife to his throat or a gun to his temple. He looked around and saw nothing.

No Victoria lurking under his bed. What was that noise?

Maybe he was paranoid.

Or maybe it was the old heater, so he swiftly turned it off. He was accustomed to the cold anyway. Dief was lying quietly under the kitchen table, silent in his lupine dreams.

He rested his head on the pillow, drained and empty. Fraser really needed some rest. He closed his eyes, praying for some sleep. He hadn't slept well for days since his fight with Ray, and he didn't expect to. He'll spend the next several hours tossing about in his bed, wasting his time, or then he'll try out his bedroll if he was desperate enough.

He tightly squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to sleep, trying in his own way to put himself into a trance. The Inuit were quite capable of that...

Fraser violently started from his light sleep and sat up, hearing strange breathing in his small room that was not his own. And it certainly wasn't Dief. This was human breathing.

Who?

Victoria? Not again! Fraser squinted into the dark, his eyes trying to track the noise he heard in his ears.

A thin figure sat in the corner of his bare room, simply staring at Fraser sitting in his own narrow bed. The dark figure stood up and stepped forward and he now appeared like a jasper and carnelian prince, his thin arm outstretched.

Fraser could smell him from here. He felt a sudden thrill in his stomach. Oh God! Could it be?

"Bennylove."

"Ray?"

The nude figure was by his bed now and regarded him with gentle eyes like emeralds decorated with streaks of gold. Ray's body was vivid and beautiful, scarlet, saffron, deep ochres and blues, all of him edged with flashes of city neon lights from the backdrop of the window.

Fraser was sitting motionless, and the flames of Ray's breath danced in front of his eyes, audacious and swirling in the draft of the bitter cold room.

"Ray."

"Let's get you lying down, Benny. Open wide for me."

The elegant outstretched hand grabbed Fraser, pulled him forward and turned him over onto his stomach. Ray suddenly changed his position, getting up onto the bed and climbing on top of Fraser.

"Come on now, love. We haven't got all night. Hurry."

Ray seemed to be talking more to himself than to Fraser, who now could feel himself being smothered by the hot lank body, feel those strong wiry arms around his waist. He couldn't believe it.

"I'm going to fuck you, Benny." The voice politely warning him, almost businesslike, a professional police officer.

Fraser swallowed saliva, wanting it so much he could have wept. "Please Ray, now."

He suddenly felt the smooth rasp of the bare cockhead up between his ass cheeks, seeking his dark niche in the expanse of his flesh, patiently searching. Ray finally located the small taut target and pushed and nudged forward.

No time for lubrication now, a little friction wouldn't be too bad. More gentle pushing from behind and...God!

Fraser felt instantly full, caulked up like a barrel of something supple and hot and throbbing, the flesh inside him burning and tightly packed. A wail tore itself from his open mouth from this strange male invasion.

Slender hands draped over his pale broad shoulders, and a mouth came to his ear, a faint whispering voice telling him something. Ray saying that he loved him. He was certain of that. Fraser reached up and touched the elegant hand resting on his shoulder.

"Ray, fuck me." Fraser pleaded this time, his voice near sobbing. He didn't care how he sounded.

The Italian sunk himself into his snow-white body, slowly and delicately rocking against him, pulling in and out. And Fraser pushed deeply back now, his head slightly tilted and he leaned further out as Ray beamed him.

Fraser thought he could feel every bone and every tendon in that thin body moving against him, working on top of him, imprinting him fully with Ray's inner workings like a great beating engine full of wires and circuits and pressure gauges. Ray seemed to overflow from the inside.

The Italian now grabbed his hips hard and began to fuck Fraser in earnest, speeding up his sweet sex tempo and driving the Mountie hard, piercing and pumping him with his cock.

Fraser was panting and gasping with each thrust. They came closer; they slid and past each other, the wind from their passage stroking Fraser's ass with savage blows. Fraser looked over his shoulder and Ray was pressed tight at his backside, his green eyes flashing out a message, was it some kind of fierce joy?

Ray smiled at his staring face. "Do you want to see me when I come?"

Fraser was coming closer. Oh no, he didn't want to see, no, no, he'll die from the sight. He tried to speak and succeeded in emitting a heavy, furry, growling-wolf sound.

"Harder, Ray! Harder!"

He felt a sudden tight grip on his uncut cock, stoking him now, and he was being pushed hard toward his slim lover by that busy hand.

Oh Christ! More sounds came out of him, wet, choking, bubbling liquid sounds. Fraser was rocking backward and forward as if he was in a strong hurricane wind.

Closer now. And another smell now, the sweet mix of aftershave and sweat and sex and Ray.

The flames were getting stronger behind him; the slender body was pure heat searing his ass. Now! Now! Fraser screamed and felt swept up like a small tossed boat, propelled by the regular beating of Ray the oarsman.

Fraser screamed again as he felt his internal cavities fill up with liquid fire and burning fluids, Ray pouring out into him with a ferocious howl. Howls like exaltation, or more like triumph? He really couldn't tell.

Fraser was flung forward and then someone was with him, holding him, kissing him for God's sake! He lay motionless as the sinewy arms supported him and the warm, wet mouth moved over him, sweet drafts of air blowing through him like breezes through a green Canadian forest. The bare cock slid out of him, spent and depleted now.

"Bennylove, did I hurt you?"

"Ray, you can never hurt me when you make love to me."

Ray frowned at him. "No. No, Benny. I meant the damn bullet I shot into your back..."

The Mountie quickly sat up in bed, alone and breathing hard. His apartment was dark and empty and winter cold. There was no Ray anywhere. Alone again.

Was he just dreaming?

Dreaming of Ray? Ray wasn't here; he will never be here.

Never again.

Fraser felt a sticky gluey wet mess between his thighs and peeled off his red long johns, tossing them to the floor. He sprawled out on the thin mattress naked and wet and depressed. He had dreamt of Ray.

Shaking, he rose from the bed and put on his robe, and sat at the kitchen table in the dark.

Dief's breathing was heavy with sleep, and listening he felt dry and empty, the blank rushing dream of his orgasm gone, and his body was just a body again. He had dreamed of Ray filling him up and the frenzied urgency of it all, and the manic excitement that made him explode. Dear God, what would reality be like with Ray actually inside him?

He never knew a man like Ray. He thought he can never be involved with anyone so strong and yet inherently fragile, a man so free of complications and yet have a complexity he could not envision, a man breezing into his room made entirely of heat and light and passion.

And with Ray out of his life, all that heat and light had dissipated, leaving him living his life this past week in a cold blind. Every waking moment now cold and dark, and narrow too. His life seemed to have become narrow and smaller without Ray; the detective had brought him a whole Italian family and a precinct full of friends as part of the packaged deal.

Now his life merely consisted of the consulate: The Inspector and Turnball and Ovitz. He liked them, and considered them pleasant friends. Friends from work: formal acquaintances and nothing more.

His friendship with Ray had required his soul and spirit and his blood.

Ray had accused him of harboring Victoria, of having her and keeping her safe, of wanting her back again. Why? Why? He was doing this for Ray. Didn't Ray trust him? Weren't they best friends?

But wasn't he running hard for that train and not looking back?

Ray had simply hit upon that raw nerve in his body like a long cabling snake throughout his being, hitting where it would hurt the most: everywhere. Victoria was that open sore nerve.

And what did Fraser do? What could he do? Fraser struck back; aiming where he knew it would hurt the most.

Even after two years the Italian never forgave himself for accidentally shooting Fraser, and deep down Fraser knew that. He had admitted to himself that he was angry with Ray for a time at the hospital, and had treated him badly during his bedside visits. But Fraser had slowly come to realize how that had bullet saved him, saved him from a life of misery, shame, and imprisonment, an empty nightmare life with Victoria.

Ray's magic silver bullet had saved him.

But they have really never discussed the incident, and saying 'even Steven' wasn't certainly going to cut it. Both men unconsciously decided to bury deep this painful episode in their relationship; each man harboring his own unique dark grief and guilt. And they kept it this way for nearly two years, hoping with time it all simply fade away.

The effect was the exact opposite. It seemed the inner pain and turmoil matured and ripened with time like wine, and it was a matter of time before the blackness truly surfaced and both men would be lashing out at each other.

He had lashed out at Ray and torn him apart. Fraser knew the right words to get the desired effect, and in his anger at Ray he had certainly got it.

He had hurt him, touching the man's mind in the most brutal way, brutal by its nature recklessly playing upon Ray's eternal guilt for accidentally shooting him. He couldn't believe himself. There were just some things you just couldn't touch, ramifications everywhere.

Silence everywhere in his apartment and it seemed he might cry, weep out loud, but instead he covered his eyes with his hands. Then a sudden fear, a cold measuring fear in his heart. What if he never saw Ray again?

He would rather he *would* dry up without Ray, wither back into facelessness, into that restless white arena he had struggled so long to live in, snow and ice and all alone.

What should he do, if he knew?

What could he do?

"All I want to do is talk to him."

He needed to talk to Ray, tell him he was in love with him and that he was wrong. Ray, as always, would listen and understand, and he would accept. He knew Ray. That's the way Ray was. Simple as that.

"Simple as that." He said out loud and nodding to himself, yet knowing on some other dismal level that it was not, now playing himself advocate for his deep loss. He would be selfish to think otherwise.

Would Ray forgive him? Would he? How mad would he be?

Staring at his clasped hands: I don't want to hurt him anymore and I'm not going to ever again.

Closing his eyes in a moment of impossibility: Forgive me, Ray? Please?

I just want him.

<><><><>

Inspector Thatcher, prim and proper in her powder blue business suit was effectively gone now having left the Canadian consulate for a lunch meeting with some delegates. And Fraser swiftly picked up the phone in his tiny office.

"Um, hello Elaine."

"Benton! Nice to hear from you again. How can I help you?"

"Elaine, I need to speak to Ray. Is he available?"

"Don't you know? Ray has been out sick this past week. He called a few days ago and said he had the flu and won't be in for a while. The flu has been going around pretty bad here, and I heard that many of the hospital emergency rooms are diverting patients..."

"Uh, Elaine, thank you kindly." Though he didn't have the time for her friendly chats, he still felt guilty for cutting her off like that. Fraser has never been impatient with Elaine before; the woman was always a great help and a quick source of information.

"Benton, is everything all right between you two?" The concern in her voice was plainly evident; she can swiftly pick up on any subtlety, even in Fraser.

"Everything is fine." Fraser hated lying, but he didn't want to drag Elaine into their problems, especially without Ray's consent. But still he was curious about her perceptions of their relationship and what the precinct thought of them. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, we haven't seen you around here Fraser for a long time, and your friend has been acting a little weird."

"Ray? Weird?" Fraser was starting to feel a little uneasy now and he listened intently to Elaine's words.

"Well, Ray has been a little moody lately, but he has been moody a lot of times. It's just a different kind of moody for Ray because he has been really quiet, and has been keeping to himself at his desk. Maybe I'm just making a mountain out of a molehill, Fraser. After all, Ray is sick with the flu, and maybe when I saw him at his desk he was probably ill or something."

"Perhaps that's it, Elaine. I have been busy at the consulate and I haven't had the opportunity to visit the precinct. I'm sure Ray will be fine." Liar!

"If you say so, Benton. Well I have to go, I have another call on the line. I'll hear from you later?"

"Yes Elaine, of course. Thank you for your help."

"Bye, Fraser."

He was worried that Ray wasn't really sick with the flu, but he desperately hoped he was wrong. He actually hoped Ray was stranded in bed with the flu, safe but sick. It could be possible, there was a flu epidemic going around Chicago; it was in all the newspapers.

"Hello, Mrs. Vecchio."

"Why hello, Benito. How are you, caro? Sorry you couldn't make it for dinner, Ray told me you have been very busy at the consulate."

"Yes ma'am. I'm quite fine, ma'am." Fraser answered with a feeling of adolescent shame.

"Um, is Ray there by any chance?"

"Why no, Benito. He is at work, dear."

Oh no. Oh God. Fraser swallowed very hard, causing a cold ache in his chest.

"He is? Has he been to work all this week?"

"Yes, of course he has. Why? What is wrong?"

"Oh, nothing ma'am. I have been busy at work, and I guessed I missed him again at lunch. I'll just call him back later. Thank you kindly."

"I'll let him know you called. Goodbye, caro."

"Goodbye, ma'am."

Fraser was in a deep state of panic. He couldn't locate his friend anywhere. He was not at work, he was not at home, and he was not sick. Oh God.

He sat there helpless as if literally paralyzed; trying to find Ray would be nearly impossible. The man knew every nook and cranny of Chicago; he can be anywhere. If Ray didn't want to be found, then he will not be found. Ray was clever that way.

And maybe Ray was safe that way. If he couldn't locate Ray, then it is likely Victoria couldn't find him either. He really hoped so.

It was not like tracking a fugitive in a snowstorm. Ray had the brain of a city cop; he knew all the stupid little mistakes a fugitive would make when in hiding. And Ray was hiding in a vast city, not behind a snow-covered rock or up in a tall tree. Ray can easily make himself non-existent in the enemy territory of Chicago.

To exist without Ray. It was intolerable. It made him ill.

Where was his Ray?

<><><><>

"Hey? Hey you?" An old woman approached Ray in the gloomy dark hallway. Oh, great!

She was poking him with her cane.

"Whadda ya want?" Ray spat out. He wasn't in the mood, oh sweet Jesus the carpenter in heaven, he wasn't in the mood.

"Why are you just standing there? Huh? You don't live here? Huh? Maybe I should call the police." The old woman folded her arms, waiting, and gave him the evil eye.

"Lady, I am the police!" Ray growled at her, and whipped out his badge to shove in her wrinkled old face. "And I'm on police business! Can ya leave me alone and just go back into your apartment?" Damn it.

She wasn't giving up that easily. No way. Not in her hallway. "And how do I know that badge is real?"

"And how do I know that I don't gives a shit? Now get the hell away from me!" Ray shouted at her shocked wrinkled face. "Fly away, you old bat!"

The woman turned in an angry huff, and then entered her small apartment and was muttering something about police brutality and her tax money going to waste and disrespect of the elderly and... her door finally closed.

Ray was rather rude, wasn't he? Oh well. Can't be helped. What would Fraser say?

Hell. Did it matter?

Ray finally returned to his vigil by the hallway window and to that familiar old apartment building across the dark street. And there was the dull glare of the nauseous streetlights that made that narrow street seem colorless and sickly blanched.

Another stakeout tonight. His very own stakeout and all by himself, again. Partnerless. Watching and waiting for *her* to show up, and old Benny boy being the bait. It was a matter of time, really. He could make out Fraser's apartment really well from here. Damn, the guy should really get window blinds.

The Mountie's apartment was dark inside, with poor Fraser still at the consulate squirming under the Dragon Lady's thumb.

Ray camped out by that ominous window, the very same spot occupied not so long ago by the late Chuckles... uh?... Jolly... when the man was keeping an eye on *her* and the Mountie. Now it was Ray's turn, and hopefully he won't share Jolly's same fate: six feet under and three feet across.

He didn't care.

He was tired, pissed, and exhausted, his guts hurt, and he had blue balls, damn it!

He quietly laughed to himself. So pathetic. Another cold shower tonight. So stupid.

Outside the night came thankfully cold, and Ray had slightly opened the hallway window just a crack, just enough to smell some oxygen.

He stared out the window, and felt like weeping.

Touching Benny, touching his body like that, nothing but a humiliating struggling sticky business, all of it finally ending in harsh words and pain and that lingering scar of the soul. What the hell was he thinking of?

Ray could hear the adjacent streetlights below buzzing like radioactive isotopes. The earth was swarming with poisons and surrounded by the threat of outer space. What use was anything?

He wanted to puke.

But instead, he witnessed the tiny trickle of humanity making its way home to that old apartment building; it was the end of another day.

A short dark woman approached the apartment now, with several noisy kids in tow. She looked wiped out, and she carried two full grocery bags.

Mrs. Gamez.

Ray was now reminded of diseased horsemeat and parasites and frigid meat lockers.

One of the Gamez kids, probably Mario, was yelling something about getting new Nike sneakers. Ray weakly smiled. That kid is no different from his nephews.

Another strange creature came scurrying from the dark nocturnal street into the apartment building.

Mr. Mustafi.

The man nervously looked around the street, and hurried inside. Probably scared of his own shadow, except it was night and it was dark, and so there were no shadows to cast to be scared of.

Fraser had some pretty fucked up neighbors.

Ray winced as he stretched his arms out, so stiff, and his stomach turned from the fresh shot of pain coming from his right side. That bruise had already turned twenty shades of purple and brown by now.

Ray suddenly gasped and pressed his body flat against the wall, trying to avoid being seen through the window.

Fraser was now walking up the dimly lit street, the stetson firmly on his head, and the white wolf pitter-pattering behind his master.

Shmuck! Fraser can't see you from up here! And Ray slightly relaxed. He now stepped slightly forward to get a better view out of his window.

The tall Mountie was wearing his dark brown uniform, indicating that no guard duty was pulled today, but plenty of paperwork and the shelving of countless files. The Dragon Lady must of rode him like a broomstick all day.

Ray gently smiled as he watched the Mountie politely open the entrance door for the wolf, and then entered the old apartment himself. That's Benny, polite to man and beast.

So this was it? This is what is left of three years of friendship. Ray spying on his friend... his former friend. With only these glimpses now, and nothing else.

How did things get so screwed up? What did he do to make it this way?

Fraser's apartment suddenly came to life as the Mountie flipped on the light switch.

Ray could just make out Fraser walking to his closet and shedding his uniform tunic through the window. The Canadian then walked away, no doubt going to the kitchen now to perhaps make some tea and supper.

Fraser was probably talking to the wolf now, telling how wrong it was to eat junk food, how the city was making his lupine instincts soft, that he needed more exercise and discipline. Ray had witnessed this all too often.

Ray sometimes imagined if Dief could actually talk, he may just tell Fraser to go fuck himself.

Ray laughed and then he sighed.

Now recollecting the very structure of their friendship, already shaky due to their vast differences, Ray can only find himself to blame for its downfall, for making the foundation so weak. Hell, he was weak. Telling Benny he was in love with him, it was so dumb, so sordid and so selfish. Damn, he was kinder when he shot Benny in the back. He brought it all down with a few stupid greedy words.

How on earth did they last so long together?

As friends? For three years?

They had nothing in common: Rude versus polite. Loud versus quiet. Emotion versus reason. What a disaster.

And as lovers? Well, a couple of hours, tops. Until *she* showed up again, the bitch. An even bigger disaster.

What had attracted him to this Mountie?

Maybe Ray saw something in Fraser he always wanted to see in himself, something he knew he was capable of, but not.

Something that would had made him complete not only to himself, but also to others... his Ma, his friends, his co-workers, Welsh, Angie, Irene, and even his dead father. Maybe Ray thought he could catch some of that, what Fraser had, by working with him, by doing what he did, by being by his side, no matter what?

So it seemed Ray was destined to do anything required of the Mountie. Being his friend, his partner, his brother, and performing good deeds.

So many goddamn good deeds.

It seemed half the citizens of Chicago were helpless, hapless idiots. All screaming for a helping hand and there goes Super Mountie and Ray Boy Wonder to the rescue.

And at times Ray seemed very tired of it all, and would offer only the briefest of smiles but Ray never pressed, tried never to ask the wrong question; sometimes it was a strain, but he always tried, hadn't he? To do some good.

Sometimes it was a strain to know what to do; to know what to think, but he kept the strain to himself, but sometimes he hinted, with a sigh, a gesture, a frown, a sarcastic comment, hinting that sometimes it was hard on him. Damn hard. Shit.

But all good things are hard, aren't they? And being Fraser's best friend was no picnic in the park. But oddly enough that was good, to be demanding and to be demanded of.

What demands passion demands price; that's the way it was.

His Pop taught him that.

"Loser."

Oh great! Speak of the devil, and right at his back, too!

"Go away, Pop."

If thinking of his Pop just now had conjured up his ghost, then Ray really wanted to kick himself. This was neither the time nor the place for a little heart-to-heart with Pop.

"Look at you, my son... the cop." Ray heard his father hiss. Ah, just like the good old times, but without the beatings.

"I said go away, Pop. Damn it." Only a man like his Pop can cause as much misery dead as he did when he was alive. At least the man was consistent, if nothing else.

"You're protecting *him* again, ain't you? What? My house wasn't enough for the lying, back stabbing bastard..."

"My house, Pop! My house! And shut up, will ya? Don't speak of things you don't know about!"

"Who ya think gave you that house, Santa Clause?"

Ray glared out window as a dark slim figure made its way down the littered sidewalk, bundled up tight against the cold wind. The dark figure quickly grabbed its baseball cap to keep it from being blown away.

"You know nothing, Pop."

"All I know is that you're disgusting. You touching *him* like that! Touching a goddamn man! Shit! I didn't raise you to be a fruit loop!"

"You didn't raise me at all. You were busy drinking, remember? Of course you don't, when you're passed out on the living room floor every night."

The dark slim figure was now passing by Fraser's old apartment building.

"You're no son of mine! No pillow biter is a son of mine."

"Trust me, Pop. I'll get over it."

"Sad thing is, you're no damn good at it, being a ass pirate. Hell, even *he* doesn't want you, and Angie..."

Ray spun around. "FUCK YOU!"

Ray was yelling at the empty dark hallway. His father was gone now, back into hell or purgatory, where ever. Shit, don't they ever keep a lock on their gates?

Why doesn't his old man go and harass Frannie?

Ray turned his weary head to look out the window again, and that dark slim figure he had been watching was suddenly gone. Vanished.

Ray pressed his face hard against the grimy glass of the window, twisting his head left, then right, scanning either side of the long narrow street for that dark apparition.

Where did it go? Where?

The mystery figure seemed to have suddenly disappeared in front of the apartment.

Or maybe... disappeared into the apartment?

Damn!

Ray flinched back, the jump literal in his flesh, as if he been touching a hot stove.

The dark figure must have slipped inside the apartment, and unaccounted for by Ray.

A strange sick panic slowly burned his belly. It burned a path up to his throat.

Was that dark figure Victoria?

No, it can't be! The figure didn't have long dark hair, but it was wearing a cap. She could've had her dark curly locks pinned up under that cap. Maybe?

The figure was also very slim and tall, and from what he remembered, that Victoria was a pretty bony bitch, and he couldn't see that figure's face so bundled up like that from the cold, but it wasn't that cold out, really, unless the figure wanted to hide...

Something from within his autonomic nervous system demanded that he withdraw, now, now, now!!!

And he did, backing away from the window, and now he was flying down the hall, his overcoat flapping behind him like long black wings.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! OH SHIT!

Fuck the elevator! It's too slow!

He took the stairs, spiraling down to the ground floor, and now out the door, and the cold air and across the street and up to that old apartment.

And into that familiar dark lobby. Ray quickly pressed his body against the dirty wall and drew out his weapon, gripping it tightly with both hands, and holding it just above his right shoulder.

He held his breath, straining to hear any odd sounds beyond his pounding heart, any sounds not indicating the normal activity of urban life... a distant sound of a television, a crying child, a toilet flushing.

Well, what the hell is Victoria supposed to sound like anyway? What does evil sound like?

Ray quietly slipped by the wall in the black lobby, passing by a row of battered metal mail boxes, passing the death trap elevator, and now to the base of that dark spiraling staircase. He stared up intently; straining to see through the dark, it seemed the stairs led up to an endless black hole. Damn, why aren't there any lights in this dump!

For all he knew, Victoria could be standing five feet in front of him and he wouldn't be able to see her. But then again, the dark came with her, on her hair and clothes.

Letting out a long and heavy breath, Ray gingerly crept up the stairs, and was swallowed up by the vacuum of the inky blackness.

He now found himself in the ominous hallway leading to Fraser's door. Damn. Where was she? Where?

Was she already in his apartment? Was she? God, he was too slow! Move! Move! Now! Now!

His long legs were moving in athlete's rhythm, with the air in his lungs sweeping in and out all the way to the door.

Ray burst into the small apartment, the door slamming hard against the wall and bouncing back again, catching his right leg. He tripped and stumbled painfully to his knees, but jumped up just as quickly. And he was now glaring wildly around the apartment.

As for Fraser, this unexpected visit made him hop up from his meal at the table, knocking the kitchen chair to the floor along with his hot tea. And he was staring with wide blue eyes.

"Ray!"

Ray ignored him, and proceeded to flap around the time apartment like a deranged vampire bat. He threw open the closet door and aimed his weapon at the empty black space sheltering Fraser's uniforms and a few of Ray's suits.

Dief was jumping up and down after Ray and happily barking, only too willing to play this game of hide and seek.

"RAY!"

Ray then dove to the floor to look under the small bed, and saw nothing but a few dust bunnies and wolf hairs. Ray felt his nose itch.

There was really no other place to search in the sparse apartment, unless the miserable bitch was hiding under the kitchen sink.

"RAY! What are you doing?!?"

Ray scrambled to feet and was staring at Mountie wild eyed, panting and shaking.

Benny painfully swallowed the food that was still in his mouth, and Ray felt like crying.

Dief stopped hopping about, suddenly smelling the distress between his two pack mates.

* Whine. *

"Ray? What are you doing here?"

Ray spun wildly around, now aiming his weapon at the old heater as it clicked on and rattled to pump out some weak heat into the cold apartment.

"RAY!"

The detective stared at him again, looking right through him with that fierce green glare.

"Ray! What are you looking for?"

Not answering, Ray made a beeline for the door. There was no reason to be here now.

"Are you looking for her? You think I'm hiding her here!" Fraser shouted loud enough to stop the thin man in his tracks.

"Of course I'm not looking for her, Benny. I thought I just drop by for tea, and talk about the good 'ole times."

"Ray..."

"Well, old friends can drop by, can they? Oh, fiddle sticks! I forgot! We're not friends! Oops!"

"Ray!"

"I mean, I tried to murder you, right? Now, I'm no brain surgeon here, but I know enough that friends don't usually go around trying to kill their friends. I mean, what sort of friends would they be then? Huh? Dead friends? Huh?"

Fraser winced as Ray incoherently ranted on and decided to nonchalantly scratch the itch at his smooth shaven temple with the barrel of his revolver. Oh God. There was something about the detective that just wasn't right.

* Whine *

"Ray! I need to talk to you..."

"I think I heard quite enough out of you, Frasier! Hell, next you'll be accusing me of raping you!"

"RAY! Will you shut up and please listen to me!"

"NO!"

"Look, Ray, you are very upset now, I understand..."

* Whine *

Ray glanced down to the wolf and then up to the Mountie again. "Why don't both of you shut up and leave me the hell alone?"

The irate Italian headed for the door, swinging it wide open. "Why don't you and the furball just go back to your dinner, okay? Forget I came, okay? Just forget me!"

The door angrily slammed shut.

The Mountie and wolf stood there stunned, and now unbalanced again without their third member.

"Stay here." Fraser mouthed out the words carefully to the deaf wolf, and quickly headed for the door.

"Ray?" He headed down the dim hallway for his friend, and rounded the corner to the top of the stairwell. He looked down.

"Ray, wait!" Fraser could see Ray's back halfway down the length of the dark steps, now standing still and very rigid. The slender man slowly raised his hands up into the air.

"Ray?"

No answer.

Fraser squinted into the darkness, and saw a pale face with dark brown eyes peek over Ray's shoulder. She was wearing a black knit cap.

"Hello, Ben. Nice to see you again."

"Victoria. What are you doing?"

"I thought I stop by again, love. I enjoyed our visit last week."

Fraser heard the detective hiss, and Victoria turned her attention back to the slender man.

"Did you say something, asshole?" She pressed the barrel of her gun deeper into his chest.

Ray just stood there, staring straight ahead, and not looking at her as if she was Medusa, wiggling hair snakes and all.

Her pale hand slipped into his dark overcoat and produced his service revolver.

"Thanks, Vecchio. Don't mind if I do." She pocketed his gun, and looked up at Fraser again.

"Ben, we have a few details to straighten out, then we can leave this filthy city. God, I always thought Americans were dirty."

"Go fuck yourself."

Victoria was glaring at Ray now. "You got a death wish, Vecchio?"

The detective shrugged. Maybe he did have one after all. Whatever, who cares?

She was in his face and hissed, "Well, guess what? You did hurt him, and now I'm going to kill you."

"Hmm, I do see your point."

"Please, Victoria! You don't want to do this." Fraser frantically called from up above.

"Yeah, Vicky babe, you don't wanna do this. Listen to your Mountie."

"Turn slowly around you asshole, and you slowly go up the stairs. I swear to God, Vecchio, I'm going to blow you away."

"I'm flattered, but I don't think I'm your type, Vicky..."

"Move asshole!"

Ray slowly turned his body around on the step, and felt her gun quickly and painfully pressed into the small of his back. Maybe she was really serious after all.

"Will you fucking go!"

The detective ascended the steps carefully, and now looking at Fraser's distraught face he decided to fully cooperate. He didn't want the bitch flying off the handle and go killing the Mountie too. He didn't like the look in her black marble eyes.

Ray figured shit would end this way. He should have chased the crazy bitch on the train. He should have tracked her down while her trail was still warm rather than sit uselessly with Benny everyday in the hospital. Letting her go loose like that was now the second biggest mistake he had made in his life. He should have known better. Oh, well.

Another lesson learned.

They both finally reached to top landing of the dark staircase occupied by the stunned Mountie. Victoria pressed the gun deeper into Ray's back, still unsure about her Ben.

Ray suddenly remembered how Benny helped him up the stairs, practically carrying him up after that morning with the kid and the gun. He remembered how his friend held him tightly with his arm around his small waist, and he wanted his friend so badly that he couldn't climbed those damn stairs anyway.

Ray smiled at the Mountie even now; after all they had been through. She was going to kill him anyway. Sometimes bad things happen. But at least he had the opportunity to touch his friend, to love Benny and to make him feel loved and make him happy that one morning. He's always been a sucker for that handsome face. He loved him.

Fraser stared back at him, his blue eyes despairing.

"We're all going to your apartment, Ben. Let's go, we really need our privacy."

"Please, Victoria."

"I said let's go, Ben." She nudged the Italian forward impatiently with her revolver.

"Victoria, don't hurt him."

"Let's go Ben. Now!" She was now starting to doubt her Mountie's intentions.

A loud scream penetrated down the hallway and all three figures jumped.

Ms. Gamez unfortunately stepped out into the dim hallway to do her laundry, and witnessed this unfriendly exchange at the head of the stairs and the gun deeply buried in the detective's back.

Ms. Gamez dropped her laundry basket and she screamed again.

Ray seized his opportunity and swiftly spun around to grab the revolver from Victoria's hand. Determined and angry, she yanked back hard in the detective's grasp and pulled him down with her into the black tunnel of the staircase like falling timber. The unlikely couple now stumbled and descended together.

Fraser lunged forward to grab the pair and suddenly found himself in mid-flight with them in the darkness, his body now being painfully pounded and slammed into the steps and into his partners, helplessly plunging and tumbling down to the endless bottom.

A loud POP! exploded in his ears and he heard the sickening cracking and snapping of his own ribs.

They landed very hard at the bottom and Fraser thought he had actually shattered like glass. He listened intently, his eyes trying to focus on the high ceiling, dim colors swarming and fusing and spinning in front of him, letting him know he wasn't quite all right.

His body felt bruised and pulverized and broken, the pain felt like numerous sword-blows. Fraser weakly lifted his head and looked, and found himself sandwiched in between the two tangled bodies of his fallen partners like jagged metal.

Something smelled strange in his nostrils, a smell that did not belong in the apartment, which should never belong in his apartment. The all too familiar smell of gunpowder and blood. God knows he smelled it before.

Did her gun go off? Was that the loud pop he just heard in his ears?

He grabbed Victoria and dug around her coat and clothing, looking for any blood or injuries. Fraser found nothing, except maybe feeling a few broken ribs and perhaps a broken arm. She whimpered as he moved her about, poking and prodding her. She squirmed in his grasp. She will live.

Fraser pushed and shoved her away, very much done with her.

He painfully looked over his shoulder to see the crumpled form of his friend against the wall, buried under his black upturned overcoat. And there was that thin arc of splattering blood on the wall just right above Ray's body, marking off the last few nanoseconds of his descent.

Fraser's hands reaching out in the dark and shaking the limp shoulder now. "Ray?"

Nothing.

"Ray?"

Blood all over his hands now from shaking Ray's shoulder. He gently turned the busted body over to see more.

And more blood. Everywhere.

Ray's green eyes were staring up at him and were blank, almost dead, all expression nearly gone. Ray's thin feeble arm reached for him and his mouth moved wordlessly. Ray alternately choked and coughed, shaking and convulsed, until he seemed entirely exhausted and just stopped.

"Ray?"

Fraser felt a deafening roar throughout his body, and behind his eyes. The pounding in his head told him that his brain was going to shut down, it had to shut down. His head fell back to the floor and he lay very quiet by his bleeding friend as the world spat and flickered and darkened around him.

A great black wave finally took him, covering him, filling him, burying him, and the last thing he heard was Dief wretchedly howling upstairs in his apartment. The keen wolf must have already picked up on the scent of blood.

---To be continued in Pack Mates Part 3 The Pack

endnote: It seems I'm only happy when these guys are suffering, and poor Ray has taken a lot of shit from me as his writer of slash. Well, you always hurt the ones you love... or I'm just a bitch? Hmm?

Love, Anam71.