comments- perrymor@home.net
 

Amethyst
 
 

        Ray Kowalski sighed and folded his arms upon his desk, laying his head upon them, he felt terrible. One minute he was hot, the next he was cold. He was coughing so much at times he couldn't catch his breath and he was popping cold pills like they were candy. His eyes were red rimed, his hands shaky and his face pale and draped with a layer of sweat that he just couldn't seem to get rid of.
         "Vecchio!" Welsh called from his office doorway and Ray's head shot up from the desk, blinking at the stars that seemed to appear before him from the action. He turned his head and focused on the husky lieutenant.
         "Yes Sir?" he croaked, then tried again as he rose shakily to his feet, keeping hold of his desk for support. "Yes Sir?" There, that sounded better, not so much like a strangled chicken, just a weak frog. Welsh's eyes narrowed on him then, taking in his obvious condition.
         "Are you ill detective?" he demanded. "You look like hell."
         "I'm fine sir." Ray lied. "Just a sore throat." He didn't want to be sent home to his empty, hollow apartment.
         "C'mere then." Welsh instructed stepping back into his office. Ray stared at the place the Lieutenant had vacated for a long moment, why did it seem so far away? With a great heave of exertion, he pushed away from his desk and headed across the room. He made it halfway before he collapsed.

         Ray awoke on the sofa in Welsh's office, a concerned Francesca hovering over him with a cool cloth and Welsh, Dewy and surprisingly Stella peering down at him grimly. He bolted upright, then grabbed his head and groaned in retaliation, waiting for the room to stop spinning.
         "Go home, Detective." Welsh ordered his voice gruff with concern.
         "I'm fine, Sir, I...."
         "You just passed out in the middle of my squadroom, Ray." Welsh reminded firmly. "You're running a fever and you are going home."
         "But I..."
         "Ray shut up and do as your told for a change." Demanded Stella angrily and Ray's mouth snapped shut as Francesca glared at her furious.
         "Don't you snap at him, he's sick." She declared.
         "He wouldn't be if he wasn't so hard headed." Stella retorted, folding her arms in front of her stubbornly.
        Francesca shot her a cold look and turned back to Ray with a surprisingly gentle smile. Granted the man got on her nerves, but she didn't like to see him so ill. She wiped at his brow with the cloth and helped him to sit up all the way; he offered her a weak smile and Stella tapped her foot annoyed.
         "Is Fraser still out of town, Detective?" Welsh inquired and Ray nodded with a wince. Fraser was in Vancouver on some mission for Thatcher until the day after tomorrow. "Do you have someone who can stay with you?" Ray shook his head then reprimanded himself as another wave of nausea hit him-damn his head hurt.
         "I'll be okay once I get home." He assured quietly but Welsh wasn't satisfied. "It's just a cold."
         "Ms. Vecchio, can you..." Welsh began but Ray cut him off, surprisingly.
         "I'll be fine, Sir." He assured, he didn't want Frannie, sweet as she could be, hanging over him when he felt this bad. When he got sick he got mean and he wouldn't wish himself on anybody.
         "I'll drive him home, Sir." She assured quickly as Dewy and Welsh offered the detective a hand up. They steadied him and Ray felt foolish to appear so weak in front of them, but Welsh gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, showing his concern.
         "Get him out of here, then Francesca." He ordered the Italian woman as she started to slide her slim shoulders under Ray's arm for support. Ray moved away from her, catching himself on Welsh's desk, to keep from falling.
         "You can't support me, Frannie." he protested with a small grin. He'd probably squish the petite woman if he fell on her. He took a couple of deep breaths and waved away Welsh's offered hand. "I'm okay, just had ta get my bearings." The Lieutenant nodded and told him to take at least three days off. Ray nodded and slowly followed Francesca out, who was watching him carefully in case he started to slip again. To show how sick he must truly be, he left without a word of goodbye to Stella, causing her to stare after him in concern.

         Ray groaned and slowly lowered himself on to his sofa, grasping a pillow to his chest. He had managed to get rid of Francesca, assuring her he would be all right alone, but already he was regretting it. He didn't get past the living area before his legs threatened to give out on him once more. He sighed as he leaned back against the cushions, wishing the pulsing that seemed threaded through his entire body would either pick a steady beat or give up throbbing all together. Who could dance to that kind of beat? It was too loud, too erratic .. to...what was he thinking? Oh yah, soup. No, No he hadn't been thinking about that he had been thinking...He shook his head and gave up, two many things swimming around up there but not landing for a solid connection to his brain. He stared up at the ceiling and blinked his eyes a few times, watching the colored spots dance about on the white paint, until a knock sounded around him. He glanced about painfully, then dropped his head again, no one home. Again the knocking sounded, more insistent now.
         "Who's dere?" he called out giddily. Wasn't that the opening to a joke? He couldn't think straight enough to remember.
         "Ray open the door!" A voice called back. "It's me Ray, open up." Ray shook his head in disbelief. The Stella! It was The Stella-hide hide! Everyone swallow your emotions and run for the hills, the destroyer of love and all things good draws near.
         "Go'way!" he called back, unable to move even if he wanted to.
         "Ray, let me in."
         "Don't wanna!"
         "Ray open this door right now!" The Stella was getting impatient.
         "I can't!" he called back and listened for the change in her tone, which was almost immediate.
         "Why can't you?" she demanded. "Are you hurt?" I've fallen and I can't get up, Ray declared silently.
        With a loud sigh, he twisted slowly into a siting position and levered himself upward, using the back of the couch for support. Okay, he could do this, he could. The door was just down that little hallway and he could make it. Besides, The Stella had come to see him, he must have really pissed her off this time-she never came to see him.
        Slowly, leaning heavily against the walls, he made it to the door and pulled back the bolt, allowing Stella inside. She took one look at him, dropped the bag she had been holding by the door and wrapped an arm under the detective to help him back to the sofa. Because he was heavier than she, when he started to slide downward, she was pulled off balance and toppled on top of him.
         "Hmmm, not now, Stella." He muttered and she scrambled off of him angrily to return to close the door and retrieve her packages. She made herself busy in the kitchen for a few minutes, before returning with a steaming cup of soup for him.
         "Your mother sent this over, I told her you were sick but that I would take care of you." She grinned wryly as she helped Ray sit up so he could drink the hot liquid. "I figured you'd rather me than her, as sweet as she is she can be suffocating."
         "Always." Ray murmured and she frowned.
         "Always what, Ray?" she asked.
         "Always want you Stella." He whispered, closing his eyes and sipping the soup carefully, because it was very hot. Stella instantly moved away and returned to the kitchen as Ray grimaced. That's it, run away, Stella, always running. We belong together and you damn well know it. Why can't you just admit that we're soul mates, there will only be the two of us for all eternity despite your denial.
         "Have you a thermometer?" Stella was inquiring as she made herself home in the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea. "Ray?" She turned and glanced over the breakfast bar toward the living area, where she could no longer see her ex-husband. Frowning, she set her cup on the counter and moved toward the sofa. "Ray?" She leaned over the sofa and found the detective had slumped against the cushions asleep. She shook her head, noticing that his cup of soup sat half full on the small coffee table beside him.
        Maneuvering around, she lifted his legs onto the couch and adjusted his head on the pillows so he wouldn't get a crick in his neck from the angle he'd fallen asleep in. She pulled his boots off, unsnapped his shoulder holster from the loops of his jeans and managed to pull it off of him; worrying immediately as her hands brushed across his torso, which seemed even thinner than usual. He had lost weight, drastically, and she more than anyone knew he couldn't afford that. He had enough trouble keeping what weight on him there was, his high metabolism, which was probably why he indulged in sweets so often. When she was living with Ray, he actually enjoyed a variety of foods, loved green vegetables and fruit, but his snacks were always high in fat and sugar to help him keep what muscle and body fat he had attained.
        Stella strode into his bedroom to find a blanket to pull over him and stopped to observe her husband's bedroom. She had never been to his apartment, not this one anyway, which he had moved into a few months after their divorce. He had been staying at the YMCA during the process, or at his old precinct, perhaps still hoping she would change her mind and call off the proceedings.
        She shook her head, remembering what Tammy, her friend at the station where Ray worked, had told her when the lawyer had served Ray with the final divorce papers. Tammy had told her detective Kowalski had looked like had been about to pass out, as though he had been shot suddenly by an invisible intruder and was in great agony. He'd slowly turned around, sat down at his desk and signed the papers, handed them back to the lawyer, then proceeded to loose it, throwing any and everything he could get his hands on. It had taken four officers to subdue him, by then he was openly sobbing and his Lieutenant had ushered him into his office and closed the blinds and the door to give them privacy. Those who didn't know Ray had thought he was grieving over someone's death and in a way he was-the death of his marriage to Stella. Afterwards, Ray had left his superior's office, grabbed up his coat and headed out of the station. That was the day he held off the four gunmen in that jewelry store and received his third citation for bravery-but she knew Ray didn't see it as brave, he never did. She suspected he'd gone in there half cocked and not caring if he lived or died and came out a hero, that had been his state of mind at the time.
        She ran her hand wistfully over the dark coverlet on his queen-sized bed with a sigh, remembering how it had been to make love with him in it. She had given Ray their bed and a few other pieces of furniture when the divorce had finalized, wanting to be fair, but ray had first not wanted to take anything. She convinced him to take his stereo and few treasured belongings and insisted he take part of the furniture, she would buy new things to go with her new life. She didn't want too much around that would remind her of their failed marriage, but it seemed neither did Ray, despite his eagerness to try again. Eventually she got him to do as she wanted, as she had always had been able to, Ray denied her nothing.
        She wondered if he had many women in their bed, or if he even thought of it as theirs anymore. She didn't have the right to think about his sleeping with other women, of course, no more than he had to interfere with her love life. They were divorced, no longer connected, so why did it hurt so much to think of him with another woman. His mother, Mrs. Kowalski, who Stella had maintained a close relationship with, even after her parting with Ray, claimed she knew of no one her son was seeing, which privately gave Stella a sense of satisfaction. It also made her sad, knowing that if Ray could just find someone new to love he might finally give up on her, which had Stella feel even worse, though she knew it was for the best.
        With a sigh she found the closet that held the linen and pulled out a light colored blanket, this would be warm enough to cover Ray so he wouldn't catch a chill and become even sicker. As she turned, her gaze rested on the small chest of drawers that held a few small, framed pictures. His parents, a photo of him when he graduated from the police academy, taken by Stella, since his parents hadn't attended, their wedding picture, which surprised her, and a picture of Ray and the Mountie he worked with.
        She walked over and picked up the small polished wooded frame, which looked to be hand carved and examined it more closely. Ray's new partner was something of an enigma to Stella, she found him overly polite, something she never trusted even for a Canadian, and she was irritated by his incessant babble at times. Still, anyone could see that Fraser cared for Ray in a special way and had a protective instinct about the detective, for which Stella was grateful. At least Ray had one good friend to look after him; it had always been hard for him to make or keep close friends because of his mood swings and mistrustful behavior.
        The photo looked like it had been taken at the precinct, where Ray now worked, both standing facing one another at Kowalski's desk near the exit doors. Someone else obviously took the photo, perhaps had caught their attention, for both meant had looked at the camera, Ray with a sly grin, Fraser politely smiling, something she didn't see often on the Mountie-so it must have been taken by someone they both liked and respected. She turned the frame over read the engraved inscription on the back. 'To Ray, the frame is from me, the photo from Elaine. Happy Birthday (really) from us both- B. Fraser.'  It had Ray's birth date and the current year. She wondered what the word really meant, then her eye caught the ornament in Ray's bedroom window, something made with...feathers it looked like, and string.
         She set the photo back in it's place and moved to inspect the craft, reaching up and touching it delicately, watching as it swayed slightly against her fingers. She'd seen them before, but couldn't quite remember what they were called-something to do with dreams. Ray wasn't superstitious, so what it was doing in his bedroom, she couldn't imagine, but then she spied a small leaf of paper attached to it and she strained to read it. It was in Ray's bold script and read 'Fraser's gift for Vecchio's Birthday-remember to hang it in my window for my bad dreams.' Stella smiled, remembering how her husband used to leave little notes on items around the house to remind him of what they were for, since his mind so often flew from one thing to another-that it was hard to settle on one small topic. He must have forgotten to take the small note off when he finally did hang it up and Stella started to tear it from the wood, then decided against it-it was sort of sweet that he had left the reminder there.
        She withdrew her hands and with a sigh, made her way back to the living room to pull the blanket over the detective's sleeping form. She frowned, as she touched her palm to his forehead, he was burning up. This had to be more than some little cold, as he had claimed, Ray rarely got this sick. She returned to his bedroom, walked to the connecting door that led to his bathroom, and started to search for a thermometer. His medicine cabinet held his usual array of cold and sinus tablets, aspirin, razor blades and bandages, but nothing for his temperature.
        She selected the Tylenol, thinking it would help his fever, then surveyed the small sliding cabinets over the commode. Towels were on the rack beneath them, folded neatly and clean, if slightly faded and worn, but the cabinets held only bathroom necessities, soap, shampoo and the like. On the sink, a tube of styling gel, after shave, his razor-the same one she had given him their first Christmas together and hand soap in a small round dish. A cup held his toothbrush and toothpaste neatly on a small shelf above the faucet along with the cologne he favored. Unable to resist she picked up the bottle pulled off the top, inhaling deeply, and remembering how much she loved the smell, especially on Ray.
        Memories assailed her, dancing with Ray at the Crystal Ballroom, picnics by the lake, and walks through the park, dinner at their favorite restaurant or with his parents, before they had moved to Arizona. Playing one on one, after a hard day at work, Ray letting her win by spotting her ten points for every game.  She recalled him showing up at her work with flowers or some enormously adorable gift to take her to lunch. Their nights making love in whatever spot suited them for the moment, the bed, the sofa, the kitchen, the car, their back yard, when they owned a house, under the stars, wherever the mood hit. Ray was impulsive and daring and romantic as hell and Stella both loved and hated him for it.
         A moment of guilt disturbed her, here she was going through Ray's personal things when she had no right to do so, so she replaced the cap and returned the bottle to the shelf. She did notice however, that Ray had no condoms and she wondered if he kept them somewhere else or simply didn't bother with them, but then she shook her head, Ray was impulsive, not stupid. She palmed the Tylenol and wet a cloth with cold water, wringing the access moisture from it, before returning to the living area once again. She applied the cloth to Ray's hot face and set the tablets beside the now cold cup of soup. She'd just have to stay and take care of him. She had only meant to check up on him and bring him the soup, but she could see now that she couldn't leave him to fend for himself.
         "Fraser?" Ray murmured, stirring but not fully awake. Stella hushed him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek to soothe him. "No kissin' Fraser-dat buddy breathin's fer when I'm drownin' buddy." Stella's eyebrows rose curious, but it was apparent that her ex-husband was slightly delirious from his fever. Damn! She wished she had a thermometer. She decided to try asking Ray again, perhaps he was lucid enough to tell her if he had one.
         "Ray?" she asked gently. "Where is your thermometer? I have to check your temperature."
         "Frannie?" Ray asked, his eyes remaining closed, obviously still not fully awake.
         "No, Ray." She shook her head, sighing. "It's Stella. Where is your thermometer?" Ray's expression became pensive, despite his veiled eyes.
         "Don't be stupid Frannie." He growled weakly. "Stella's not here-she hates me, she'd never come here." Stella was shocked by his words, even if they were voiced in a slight delusion. Did he really think she hated him? How could he? She loved him, with all her heart; they just couldn't live together.
         "Your thermometer, Ray?" she asked firmly, hiding her distress.
         "Kitchen." He mumbled, turning slightly away from her in his sleep. Stella shook her head and went to search the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, she found the digital thermometer in a drawer with his extra utensils, batteries, watch parts and the like. Shaking her head again, she retrieved a glass of water from the faucet and returned to the sofa. She shook him awake and he opened his eyes disoriented.
         "I need to take your temperature." She told him purposefully, holding up the instrument so his glazed and unfocused eyes could see it.
         "Stell?" he asked confused and she nodded.
         "Open your mouth Ray." She insisted, kneeling between the table and him, as he did as commanded. She placed the thermometer in his mouth and wiped at his brow with the cloth again. He remained silent, perhaps to tired and drained to protest or make conversation, or maybe he just decided it was easier to do what he was told for a change. When the instrument beeped she pulled it from his mouth and checked the reading, trying to hide her shock-a hundred and four? He needed to go to the hospital and she said as much, but he shook his head.
         "No hospitals." He grumbled, turning his back to her stubbornly, Ray hated hospitals and usually it took an act of God to get him there.
         "Ray you're very sick, we need to..." Stella began.
         "No!" he refused firmly. "Just leave me alone, Stella. I'll be fine." Stella resisted the urge to scream at him, hit him, anything to get him to admit she was right, but she pushed the impulse down. If he wouldn't go to the hospital, then she would just have to stay and take care of him.
         "I'm not leaving." She stated soundly. "At least not until your fever goes down." Ray muttered something and she pulled on his shoulder to pull him back to face her, tucking the blanket tighter around him, despite his protests. "You'll get a chill, Ray."
         "I'm hot!" he whined, pushing at the covering, but Stella was firm.
         "That's because you have a fever you dope." She returned affectionately. "That's why I want you to go to the hospital."
         "No."
         "Then the blanket stays."
        "Aww...go 'way." Ray moaned and she couldn't resist dropping a soft kiss on his lips, watching him stare at her in surprise. His hand came up from under the blanket and cupped the base of her neck, pulling her back down and she complied, allowing their lips to meet once again tenderly. She raised her head as he regarded her questionably, she could tell he was trying to regain some of his senses, but his eyes still couldn't completely focus on her as she smiled.
         "You're in no shape." She teased gently and a small smile of regret formed on his pale lips.
         "Story of my life." He sighed and she chuckled, then offered him the tablets and water, helping him to sit up slightly so he could get them down with the water she raised to his lips. He lay back down and winced-every time he moved he had an explosion inside his head. "God! I feel like someone's shootin' hoops in my brain."
         "Try to sleep, you'll feel better." Stella suggested as she started to rise, but Ray caught her hand and glanced up at her.
         "Will you..." he began hesitantly, his eyes shining with hope. "Will you be here when...?" She nodded.
         "I'm staying Ray." She promised, caressing his cheek. "Go to sleep." Her words seemed to relax him and he released her hand, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

 
         Stella ran for the phone, wanting to catch it on the first ring before it woke Ray, who she had finally managed to get into the bedroom and under his covers.
         "Hello?" she said, somewhat breathlessly, glad she had thought to turn the ringer off on the phone in Ray's bedroom. There was a slight pause before a man's voice finally spoke.
         "Er..hello? Do I have the correct number-I'm calling for Ray Vecchio?"
         "Who is this please?"
         "Constable Fraser of the Royal..."
         "Hello, Fraser." Stella greeted, interrupting the rest of his introduction. "Yes, you have the right number. Ray is sleeping at the moment, this is Stella Kowalski." Again a long pause.
         "How are you Ms. Kowalski?' the Canadian returned politely, though Stella could sense, even if she couldn't hear, his dislike for her and his curiosity. "Is Ray all right?"
         "He's been sick and I have been taking care of him, Constable." She announced decisively. "He had a fever earlier but it has finally broken and now he is just weak and needing rest."
         "Oh Dear!" Fraser exclaimed quietly, revealing his distress. "Has he seen a doctor?"
         "He won't go to the hospital." She replied with a sigh. "You know how he is about that and I am afraid even I couldn't convince him otherwise." She heard a small smile in the Mounties's voice when he spoke again.
         "He can be quite stubborn about that, yes." He agreed quietly. "I am sure if anyone could convince him to seek medical attention it would be you, ma'am." She smiled slightly; unsure if he was being polite and offering her a compliment, or he was referring to Ray's total lack of backbone around her at times- she could be a tyrant with him.
         "I'm sure he'll be okay now." She assured; sensing the man needed to know his partner was safe. "When will you be returning, Constable?"
         "Oh, well," Fraser continued. "I was calling to tell Ray I was coming home a day early, so I will return tomorrow. I managed to get my business here finished ahead of schedule and had wondered if he might pick me up at the airport. However, since he is ill I will ask Turnbull to fetch me." Another long pause. "Will you please inform him that I called and that I hope he feels better soon?"
         "Of course." Replied Stella, touched for his concern for the detective. "I'm sure he will be glad o see you, Fraser-he isn't too happy to have me here and would prefer you I think."
         "I doubt that, Ms. Kowalski." Fraser commented before he could help himself. "I...I mean...Ray cares for you a great deal..." Stella decided to let him off the hook.
         "I know what you meant, Fraser." She stated calmly and glanced towards the bedroom as she heard Ray coughing. "I think Ray is awake if you would like to speak to him now?"
         "Oh no." Fraser protested. "I'll just see him tomorrow. Please, just go and take care of him and let him know I called."
         "Certainly." She agreed. "Good bye-Fraser."
         "Good evening Ms. Kowalski." Returned Fraser as Stella hung up and turned toward the bedroom.
        Ray was sitting up in the large bed, his face red from coughing as he tried to get his bearings. A slick layer of sweat bathed his naked torso, as he attempted to control his hacking. Stella moved to sit beside him, quickly checking to see if the waste bucket she had placed beside the bed was still close enough to reach if she needed it and helped him to sip the water she retrieved from the nightstand. He'd already vomited twice and she knew he couldn't have anything left in his stomach to throw up, which made it worse if he did feel the need for a repeat performance. Luckily, after a few attempts, he managed to get a few mouthfuls down and lay back against the pillows wearily.
         "Who was dat on da phone?" he croaked hoarsely, trying to clear his sore throat. Stella quickly informed him of the caller and Fraser's early return. "Good. He'll be back where I can keep an eye on him." Stella smirked.
         "Why do you feel the need for that?' she asked and Ray shot her a disbelieving glance.
         "You kiddin'?" he declared with a weak chuckle. "Danger is attracted ta him like moths ta a flame-must be da red uniform. He's always tryin' ta get himself killed, or maimed or shot at." Stella smiled.
         "Then why do you stay with him?" she inquired, glad ray was at least up to making jokes, that meant he was feeling a little better. "Doesn't that put you in danger as well?"
         "Well, yah." He admitted sheepishly. "But I gotta stay with him, Stell-he's my partner."
         "Ah, right, your assignment." She agreed and Ray didn't correct her. Regardless of who he was pretending to be or what appearances they had to keep, Fraser was his partner, and he would be loyal to him. When Vecchio returned, Fraser would still be his partner, maybe not officially, but damnit he's still be there for him as a friend.
         "Yah." He agreed softly as he closed his eyes and swallowed thoughtfully. "My partner, my friend." Stella regarded him quietly for a long moment, then reached out to caress his cheek, causing his eyes to open once more and trap her within their depths. He realized, not for the first time, he didn't know what to say to her. They had been married a long time, until Ray's world was shattered form the news that she wanted a divorce. He had tried to give her everything she asked for, accept perhaps the one thing she needed most-communication.
        At first they talked about everything, Ray held nothing back from her, they were lovers and best friends, but when he started to get into vice and the undercover assignments their easy comradeship seemed to dissipate. There were some things that he couldn't tell Stella, simply as a duty to his position, and at first she seemed to understand this, but then Ray became more and more withdrawn about his job and this seemed to frustrate Stella to no end. It was a well known scenario that cops often had trouble talking about the types of things they had seen and done on the job with their wives, lending to many failed marriages, but Ray had tried to keep from doing that with Stella.
        Granted, since she worked with the State department, some things were confidential, just as there were things she couldn't reveal to him about her job, but the general knowledge of their days at work seemed to filter out of the daily conversation. Originally, Ray would confide in Stella, telling her the tragedies he saw on the streets, the crooks he arrested, the in-house politics of the station that frustrated him-and at first she comforted him. Then, one day-Ray went undercover as a drug buyer with a notorious criminal named Roberts, whom they had been after for months. Ray was obsessed with the man, having seen the dead people his product was leaving around the gutters of Chicago and was sick that the man continued to beat the wrap on technicalities with his lawyers. He blamed Stella's profession, if not her personally, for the man's continued freedom.
        It was the death of a young girl, just six years old that drove Ray over the edge. The child's mother had bought some laced cocaine from Roberts and the girl had found it while the mother was passed out in a drug-induced stupor. Ray didn't sleep, didn't eat, was hardly ever home and despite Stella's urging to slow down or give the case to someone else, he was determined to bring Roberts down.  It was Ray's first undercover assignment involving narcotics and the young, newly made vice cop, was determined to bring Roberts in-one way or another.
        Unfortunately, Roberts insisted all his buyers try the product, at least once with him, before making the sale. Ray had no way out without blowing his cover, if he didn't actually make the sale, there was no way he could nail Roberts and the man would continue to go free; polluting the streets with his lethal product and killing innocent girls. So, in a last minute decision, and figuring he could handle a small dose, Ray agreed to snort a drop of coke, but Roberts had decided an injection of the drug would give him a better feel for the product offered.  Ray had refused, saying he didn't like needles, but Roberts just laughed and held a protesting Ray down; out weighing Kowalski by at least fifty pounds, and pushed the syringe into the cop's arm.
        Ray hadn't gotten the chance to signal his backup, so they had no idea what was going on, because the struggling had disconnected Ray's wire.  The growing effects of the drug in his system caused Ray's strength against the man to weaken greatly, as he struggled to find a way to let his fellow officers know he was in trouble. Normally, the minute there was no further communication from the undercover cop, they would charge in, but this was a delicate case and they had agreed that Ray had to signal them before entering, or blow the case out of the water.
        Roberts had been intent on raping Ray and Ray understood the danger he was in, but could do nothing to stop it. The drug disoriented him, trying to give him the euphoric feeling it was known for, but Ray fought against loosing himself to that high, aware it would make him that much more vulnerable to Roberts. The physical and emotional battle that waged inside of Ray caused to become nauseated and in great pain. He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, could barely feel, but one thing remained constant in his now confused thoughts-to get away from Roberts. He held that thought with all that was in him, knew if he remained under the man's strength and body much longer there would be no hope and he would indeed be raped-or even killed.
        As a last ditch effort, Ray let his whole body go slack, allowing Roberts to grope and fondle him, feel the wetness of the man's lips and stale breath as it plundered Ray's mouth ruthlessly, making him want to vomit. The larger man relaxed, having thought he finally was going to have the skinny blond, but Ray's elbow came up as the same time as his knee, catching the brute across the jaw and in the groin. Roberts howled, but had no chance to defend himself or even make a grab for Ray as the smaller man heaved at Roberts's bulk with both legs and shoved him off and to the floor. Ray scrambled dizzily toward the window as Robert's got his bearings and charged him. Ray pulled the large glass window open with trembling hands, just as Robert tackled him and send them both flying through it.
        Ray had woke up in the hospital, his Lieutenant and the officer on the case standing grimly beside him. They told him they had arrested Roberts for drug trafficking, attempted murder on a police officer, assault and a few other things, this time the charges would stick. There would be no further investigation into the case, so Ray's screw up had been forgotten, except by Ray. He had nightmares about Roberts for months afterwards, avoiding Stella's needs for closeness, shutting her out and hiding his feelings from her. He couldn't tell her what he had done, how he had messed up. The disappointment he knew she would hold in her eyes would tear him apart. So, he kept quiet and told no one, trying to deal with the aftermath of his mistake and the assault alone.
        Soon afterwards, Ray stopped telling Stella anything about his cases, becoming secretive and defensive whenever she inquired about his job. Stella also was having problems, which he realized later on. Having thought she had lost Ray's interest, simply because ray didn't seem to like being touched let alone made love to anymore, she had found herself confused, hurt and angry. She had come very close to having an affair with a co-worker, but her loyalty to her marriage and her love for Ray caused her to be consumed with guilt and she finally admitted her feelings during one of their terrible fights.
        Ray had changed from that instant; the idea that he had almost driven her into the arms of another man sent him reeling. He started doubting himself, their marriage, Stella, his job, everything. His confidence had been shattered and his need for Stella to remain with him became yet another obsession. He tried everything to make up for what he had done, but still could not bring himself to tell her everything-especially not the occurrences of that one night.  Stella became resentful and mistrustful. She began to take out her frustration on Ray, who really was doing all she asked and more, as he had before, but the fact that he was still holding back only angered her. She became more demanding, more focused on her career and when Ray suggested they try to start a family to heal the wounds in their marriage she had outright refused. Her work had become too important, maybe later, maybe next year, maybe never. They became resentful of each other, Stella's temper driving her to argue with him, lock him out of the house, criticize everything he did and Ray took all of it, in fear and frustration that if he didn't she'd leave him. But she left anyway, and Ray was left with nothing but a sea of self-doubt and some furniture.
         "Ray?" Stella asked, bringing him out of his thoughts, as he realized she was still sitting on the bed next to him, holding his hand and caressing his palm softly with her fingers. He opened his mouth to ask for forgiveness, to ask her why she left, to ask for a second chance, but nothing came out. Instead he said what he always said when he couldn't talk to her.
         "I love you Stella." She smiled slightly.
         "I love you too, Ray." She admitted quietly and he knew she was speaking the truth. She did still love him, he understood that, she just didn't think he was worth the trouble of starting over. She raised her free hand to his cheek and watched him turn into her palm automatically. "How are you feeling? Looks like your fever is broken." If he weren't sick anymore, would she leave again? The thought caused Ray to panic.
         "I'm still pretty messed up." He commented, though he was feeling better, despite his sore throat and pounding headache. He felt weak as a kitten, but was sure he could manage on his own if he had to, he just preferred Stella to stay and help him. He felt bad for using his illness to keep her here, but hell he'd tried everything else and besides, he hadn't actually asked her to stay, she had decided that for herself and that gave Ray a little bit of hope.
         "Think you can handle some soup?" she asked pulling her hands away, as though suddenly uncomfortable with touching him, and rising from the bed. Ray could sense the heat between them, despite Stella's denial. Theirs was chemistry that people wrote stories and poetry about, regardless of the circumstances.
         "Did you cook it?" he asked warily, a standing joke between them when they were married was Stella's lack of cooking skills, despite her often disastrous attempts. She allowed him a narrow glare and crossed her arms over her chest.
         "No." she denied, her lips twitching even as she struggled to keep them compressed in a tight line. "Your mother did."
         "In that case, yes." Ray agreed amiably and she huffed at him, turned on her heal and stormed out of the bedroom. Ray grinned, just like old times-he could still get to her, that was nice to know.
        He was sure she was smiling, if not actually laughing, now that she was away from him, and that knowledge made him a little sad. He hated that she felt the need to keep any happiness he might cause her from him, It hurt that she no longer felt comfortable with him.  He lay back against the pillows and played with the bracelet on his wrist. Stella had given to him on their third date, when they were only fourteen and he had always worn it. It was slightly tarnished at the moment, he hadn't had the chance to polish it this week, but it gave him a sense of security. With another long sigh he closed his eyes and let his thoughts carry him away.

 
         Fraser opened the door of Ray's apartment and offered Stella a polite greeting, allowing her inside.
         "Hello Fraser." She returned with a small smile, as he took the small grocery bag from her. "I thought you might be here, but just in case I brought some take out." Fraser nodded and gave her a small smile of appreciation as he set the bag on the counter and started to remove the cartons of Chinese. "How is Ray feeling?"
         "Better I think." He replied slyly. "We managed to convince him to see a doctor and found out he has a bad infection. Francesca is attempting to give him his medication as we speak." Stella frowned curious as she heard a squeal of laughter from Ray's bedroom and a sound thud. She moved further into the apartment and turned toward the sounds, shocked at what she saw. Francesca Vecchio was straddling her ex-husband, wrestling with the squirming man beneath her.
         "I don't wanna hurt ya Frannie!" Ray was gasping, though there was laughter in his voice. "Get away from me wit dat thing!" The item Ray was referring to being the needle that Francesca held in one hand, which he was desperately avoiding.
         "You gotta take it!"  She insisted grinning evilly, careful not to accidentally prick him with it until she could get a better hold. Even her nephews weren't this much trouble. "Do I gotta get Fraser in here?"
         "Just let me alone!" he demanded, grabbing her wrists firmly and holding them away from him, determined, which left her to drop on top of him and knocking the breath out of him. "Jeeze yer heavy!" She nipped arm defiantly for his teasing and he yelped. "Fraser! Help! She's bitin' me!" They still did not see Stella, who had moved to the side of the doorway, as Fraser approached and regarded them bemused.
         "If you would let her give you your medication she would not need to bite you, Ray." He proposed sensibly and Ray growled.
         "Who's side are you on?" he demanded as Francesca tried to pull her wrists free.
         "Yours, of course, Ray." Fraser assured mildly. "Which is why I want you to get well. The doctor said the  injection will aid your recovery faster than in pill form and it won't hurt Ray." Finally Ray noticed Stella, who was doing her best not to smile, despite the fact that watching a woman interacting so closely with Ray punctured her heart.
         "Stella!" he exclaimed surprised and his grip slackened just enough to pull one wrist free, unfortunately it wasn't the one she needed and she clawed at the fingers that still held her other hand. "Stella, tell' em, com'ahn. I hate needles!' Stella approached and took the syringe from Francesca's captured fingers, watching the relief spread through the detective.
         "Of course darling." She assured softly and she leaned close to kiss his cheek as he released Francesca, "I know how you hate them" Ray met her gaze, unaware that she had taken his now relaxed arm, prepared it and put the needle to it. He yelped as he realized what she was doing, then tore his arm away and rubbed it angrily as she handed the empty syringe back to a grinning Francesca.
         "That wasn't fair!" he grumbled, rolling away from her, as Fraser helped Francesca off the bed. Stella smiled and winked at Fraser, surprising him.
         "Don't be such a baby, Ray.' The Mountie scolded gently. "Ms. Kowalski has brought you some food, now come eat." Ray's eyes brightened but he glanced at them warily.
         "Chinese?" he asked, trying not to sound eager and Fraser nodded, pulling a grin from his partner who then glanced at Stella. "Thank you." She nodded amiably as Fraser and Francesca left them.
         "I brought plenty for everyone." She remarked. "Though I didn't know you'd have so much company." Her eyes dropped lower and she raised an eyebrow. "Might want to do something about that, she is supposed to be your sister after all." Ray didn't have to look to know what she was talking about and he blushed and turned away from her to head for his bathroom.
         "It ain't like dat." He muttered, as he went inside and closed the door. She regretted her words instantly; she shouldn't have teased him. It was a natural response after all, when you had a beautiful woman squirming on you, a man was bound to get aroused, regardless of the circumstances. She shook her head and strode to the door, rapping on it firmly. No answer.
         "Ray?" she called quietly. Was he 'taking care of it' as she had suggested and to embarrassed to respond?
         "I'll be out in a minute." He finally called back but Stella had heard the tears in his voice and she rapped on the door determined to be let in. A second later, Ray opened it and returned to the sink where he had been splashing water on his face. She saw through his ruse however, as she quietly closed the door. How in the world had she made him cry? He was so unpredictable at times. Had she hurt him with the needle-she knew he really did have a fear of them, but she had only been trying to help. She traced her incision point on his arm.
         "Did I hurt you?" she whispered as he leaned his arms on the sink, still not looking at her.
         "It's not like dat, Stella." He repeated shakily. "I...I don't like Frannie dat way I...I never..."
         "Ray?" Stella interrupted confused. What was he talking about? "It isn't my business if..." He turned to her and she saw the pain in his expression.
         "I didn't mean...I would never..." He stumbled, shaking his head in frustration as he searched for the right words. "I love you Stella. I never...I don't..." Her eyes widened as she stared at him. He wasn't upset because he's been caught with a hard on; he'd been mortified that Stella thought he might be interested in someone else. The concept of how very devoted he still was to her was astounding. That was why she had found no condoms yesterday, or anything of that nature-Ray simply wasn't sleeping with anyone else, nor had any intention to it seemed, he wanted only her.
         "Oh Ray." She sighed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into her embrace. "I'm sorry baby." Ray held her hesitantly, as though afraid if he moved she might pull away from him again. His doubt of her love for him saddened her and she found her hands moving down to the button of his jeans. "Let me take care of it, Lover."
        Ray stared at her in shock, but didn't stop her from pulling his zipper down and reaching inside to his hardened organ. He hissed through his teeth and tightened reflexively at her warm touch, his gaze confused and hopeful at the same time. Stella grabbed a towel from the shelf behind him and dropped it, still folded by her feet to cushion her bare knees as she knelt, from the hard tile floor.
         She slid her mouth over him and he arched against her with a low moan, his fingers curling through her hair as his other gripped the sink behind him, perhaps giving him a feeling of balance through the dizzying sensation that rocked him. He whispered her name over and over, proclaiming his love for her in a painfully soft voice. He was close, so close and she could feel him tighten expectantly, but then he pulled out of her mouth and firm arms were gripping her shoulders, pulling her to her feet.
         "What's wrong?" she asked startled and she realized they were both shaking.
         "I want...I want to...." His eyes finished his question and she nodded with a small, understanding smile.
        She pulled down her underwear, glad she hadn't worn hosiery since it had been a warm day, and positioned herself on the sink effectively. Ray groaned passionately and claimed her mouth, as he thrust inside of her, holding her firmly to him, almost completely supporting her, so the hard porcelain of the sink didn't bruise her tender flesh. She bit her lip, forcing down the cries that rose in her throat as Ray's driving passion pronounced the arrival of a climatic explosion of pleasure and intoxicating sensations.
         They held each other just a few moments longer, each catching their breath and enjoying the steady beat of the other's racing heart, then finally Ray helped her down and they composed themselves. She gave him a quick kiss, after checking her appearance in the mirror, then opened the door and came face to face with a curious Francesca Vecchio. Immediately the smaller woman frowned with concern.
         "Did you get sick again, Ray?" she asked quickly, her distress evident, but Ray quickly shook his head.
         "I'm okay now." He assured her with a small smile, noticing the slight flush on his ex-wife's cheeks. Francesca's expression immediately brightened in relief.
         "That's good." She sighed with a small hand to her heart. "Com'on, Frase has the food ready." Ray nodded and allowed Stella to proceed him, but not before leaning to whisper.
         "I already had desert." Watching her cheeks grow darker as she glanced at Francesca's departing back and swaying hips. He smiled and kissed Stella's cheek. "Thank you," she offered him a small smile and they headed out of the bedroom
 
        A few hours later, Francesca decided it was time to leave and she offered Fraser a ride. Although Ray saw the flash of naked panic in the Mounties's eyes at the idea of being in a vehicle alone with the sexually aggressive woman, he accepted the invitation graciously after flicking a glance toward his partner. Ray grinned and lowered his head to hide his expression, as he tossed the empty containers of food into the trash under the sink.
        He knew that look, that was a look that said, Ray had better damned well get better soon so Fraser could go back to avoiding situations like this. Ray bit his lip to keep from chuckling as, the talkative Francesca, started making plans to pick Fraser up tomorrow and return him here to Ray's after work, while Fraser wished him and Stella good night. Frannie reached up and dropped an affectionate kiss on Ray's cheek and he gave her a brief, one-armed hug, thanking hr for coming by and being so sisterly and annoying the hell out of him because she cared. The woman laughed and headed out with a reluctant Fraser in tow. Stella chuckled as she closed the door behind them.
        "I almost feel sorry for your partner." She smiled and Ray grinned.
        "Frannie's a piece of work, all right." He agreed as he started to flood the sink with hot water and soap for the dishes. Stella grabbed a towel off the rack and stood beside him, waiting to dry the dishes he was preparing to wash.
         A sense of déjà vu hit her, as she thought about the many nights, after a hard day's work for both of them, they'd eat a quiet dinner then do the dishes together-even when things turned back the habit maintained. Ray would wash and she would dry simply because he claimed her hands were two beautiful and soft to become dish panned, where he as a guy, it didn't mater what his hands were like. Stella had always felt his hands were gentle and soft, despite the few calluses he sometimes sported. Ray had strong, sure hands, hands that chased down and sometimes roughed up criminals in an attempt to get them subdued, those same hands could hold something as delicate as a butterfly or newborn kitten, as Stella could attest to. His fingers were also incredibly long and smooth; oh what he could do with those marvelous fingers. She blushed at her thoughts and almost dropped the plate Ray had handed her.
        "Are you okay?" he asked her frowning and she nodded, determined to bring herself back to the present and forget any of the foolish notions that were entering her head at the speed of light. She and Ray were divorced, she had wanted it and he gave in to please her. She had hurt him terribly and she no longer had any right to his love or his body, despite what they had shared a couple of hours earlier in his bathroom.
        "Just tired." She lied proficiently; wishing she could dispel the harsh edge to he tone, but she always got like this when thinking about ray, when regretting what she had done. Ray regarded her quietly for a moment, then turned back to wash another dish.
        "I'm sorry if I've kept you up to late." He offered, and she could tell he was doing his best to sound sincere instead of sarcastic, as he usually did.
         "I'll be fine." She assured, trying to sound nonchalant, as she set the dried dish in the cupboard above them and accepted another from Ray.
        It was amazing how in just two days she had learned the ins and outs of Ray's apartment. She hadn't gone into anything too personal, however, since her hunt in the bathroom for the thermometer. But Ray had slept a lot that first evening and it left her with nothing to do. She didn't want to leave, because he was simply too ill, so she entertained herself by familiarizing herself with what she had come to term the new Ray.
         She'd looked through his selection music, some she remembered from their marriage, a few held tender memories, but the newer ones were a complete change from his usual taste and that surprised her. His movies were the same, he had a wide assortment of films on tape, some that she would never think her husband would actually watch, but they were there so he must watch them. She had petted his turtle, which she had not even known Ray had owned; though he had always liked reptiles. She supposed he'd gotten the creature for some company. She smiled at the little props Ray had placed inside to entertain the amphibian, including a good sized cave looking house with the words 'Stew's Place' scripted on the front. Ray always did have a warped sense of humor and she remembered how his Father was always talking about how he had survived on Turtle Stew as a kid. Ray seemed to have remembered it as well.
         Then there was his roll top desk, also from their marriage, but it had always been his desk so he had agreed easily to taking it, for it had come with him from home, his parents had bought it for him when he was in high school. It held an assortment of papers and bills, cards and letters, that Stella did not bother going through-knowing Ray's system for organizing, and that if she moved the smallest piece of paper he'd never find anything and it would throw the whole thing out of whack. That was another thing they fought about, Stella liked things neat most of the time, and though Ray was far from being a slob, he was a bit of a packrat and a clutter was his space in the universe. He liked a clean domicile, but his things had to be placed in certain ways, to Ray it was a system, to Stella a cluttered mess.
         She'd figured out the system of his kitchen while searching through the thermometer and she had gone through the variety of paperbacks and hard covers the detective owned. She'd even gone through the drawers on his nightstands and headboard in the bedroom, convincing herself that she was looking for the missing remote to the very so she could throw on a movie, once she moved Ray to the bedroom. An assortment of books, odd socks, newspaper articles, silver polish, batteries and the like was all they held. On the right side of the bed, the side Ray usually slept on, the drawer to that night stand had been locked, as had the small cabinet underneath and she was curious as to what was inside it.
         "What are you thinking about?" Ray suddenly asked her and she realized she'd been drying the same plate the whole time she'd been lost in thought. Ray had finished drying the other dishes with another towel and had apparently put them away, drained the sink and wiped the counter, allowing her to drift privately. She blushed and quickly put the plate she still held in the cupboard.
         "Nothing." She muttered, dropping the damp towel back on the rack and moving to retrieve her purse from the living room table. Ray leaned against the breakfast counter and watched her.
         "Please?' he asked, requesting an answer to his question with just the one word. She shrugged and fidgeted with her purse.
         "It was nothing, really." She assured averting her eyes. "I...I just sort of...Well I..." God this was embarrassing. "While you were sleeping yesterday I showed myself around." There it was out, but Ray was still silently watching, making no comment to her admission. "I...I was curious, I haven't been here before and so I sort of snooped a little." She held up her hand. "I know it was wrong, that you deserve your privacy but I..."
         "I don't care about that. Stella." He replied quietly. "You can look at whatever you want to-anything I have is yours to see." She stared at him surprised. Should she ask? No! That would be taking advantage, it wasn't her business. He deserved some privacy, some secrets.
         "Why would you say that, Ray?" she demanded, because she didn't know how else to respond-thus she went on the defensive. He shrugged wearily.
         "Keepin' secrets from you is what broke up our marriage, Stell." He sighed, again surprising her. " At least it contributed to it. I learned my lesson-I'm an open book fer you now."
         "Why, Ray?" she asked. "We're no longer married-so why should it matter if I don't know everything about you?" Ray adjusted his stance, crossing his ankles out in front of him and folding his arms across his chest, it was one of Stella's favorite poses.
         It gave him the air of vulnerable relaxation, even when she knew his senses immediately sharpened and he was more aware of the things around him in this position than in any other. Stella liked to call it his bilateral pose, because it made people think he was calm. Nonchalant and uncaring, when in reality he was scoping for just the right angle that would get him the information he wanted, waiting for his prey to fall into his trap and make it an easy kill. She had seen him use it on suspects many times, though lately he'd been a little more physical with the perps he interviewed. The women Stella knew when she was married to ray used to go crazy for him when he struck this pose, teasing Stella that they wished he'd inspect them that closely, many claimed it gave him a dangerously sexy look and Stella had agreed.
        "Is dere somethin' ya wanted to see, Stell?' he asked her softly and she swallowed nervously. Damn but he could sound sensual at times; she didn't know how he did it. It was still her Ray, but it didn't sound like her Ray-more like the rebellious lover in those romance novels-a duke or a count.
        "I..well, yes." She finally admitted. If he wanted to know so bad she'd tell him, no need for him to pull his act on her-only she knew Ray didn't think of it as an act, it was just a part of him that he expressed on occasion. "I...I was just wondering why you keep your bedside table locked." She tried to lighten the situation with a joke. "Is that where you keep your girlie magazines, Ray?" Ray didn't even smile, though he didn't seem upset by her teasing either.
        "I don't have any." He told her calmly, then reached into the pocket of his jeans and tossed her his set of keys. "It's da small gold colored one." She stared at him incredulous as she caught the ring in her hand.
        "What?" she squeaked confused.
        "The key." He supplied. "To da cabinet in my room. It's the small gold one."
        "I don't understand." She returned hesitantly.
        "Ya wanted ta know what was in dere," he reminded. "So now ya can see." She shook her head and walked over to hand the keys back.
        "I don't need to." She insisted. "It's none of my business." Ray growled, took the keys and her hand and led her to the bedroom. He dropped down on his bed and unlocked the nightstand, pulling open the drawer and swinging wide the cabinet beneath, then drawing his legs up and leaning back against his pillows, he began tossing his keys up in the air and catching them again repeatedly. Stella watched him for a moment, determined she wasn't going to look, but then her curiosity got the better of her and she peered inside.
        The cabinet held boxes of ammunition, extra clips and a spare gun, silver polish and a well used tarnish cloth. A small box held Ray's gun cleaning supplies. The drawer held a loaded gun clip, probably for emergencies, Ray's three small medals for bravery, along with the certificate citations and a post card from Canada, presumably from Fraser. A hand-sewn badge with a hand stitched figure of a man, bent over with a lightening bolt-symbolizing pain, coming from his back.  A small scroll of lettering on the certificate attached, caught her eye and she picked them both up carefully. The badge was made of soft blue cloth and black leather, had Ray's name in bold letters on top, then different symbols aligned the sides. Stella squinted to read the delicate writing on the paper and found herself smiling in puzzlement. 'Presented for beating the odds, facing incredible danger and sleeping on a hard floor without concern for his own physical well being Duly noted by: Constable B. Fraser.'
        "It's a long story." Ray commented as he saw her expression and accepted the badge from her, running his fingers over it affectionately. She nodded and glanced back inside the drawer at the other items. The original jewelry box she had given him his bracelet in, which now held his wedding band, a handful of pictures of them together, a small photo of Fraser and Diefenbaker, the invitation to Elaine's Police Academy Graduation and an extra set of handcuffs. A small leather bound book was tucked neatly in one corner and she glanced at Ray for permission before picking it up and leafing through it. It was his journal, and though she saw that her and Fraser's names were mentioned frequently she did not attempt to read any of the passages written in her ex-husbands script.
        "You didn't have to do this, Ray." She sighed as she dropped onto the bed beside him and closed up the nightstand. He shrugged and placed his badge back in the drawer then locked them both, rolling back against the cushions and dropping his keys on the top by the phone.
        "Find anything interestin'?' he asked her calmly and he regarded her with curious steel blue eyes.
        "Sometimes I wonder if I ever really knew you, Ray." She remarked quietly and Ray grasped her hand reassuringly. There were so many things the items in that drawer had told her, so many ways he had changed-she didn't know where to start.
        "You always knew me, Stell." He told her gently. "Yer the only one who ever really did." She shook her head.
        "Then why did you stop talking to me Ray?" she demanded, finally broaching the sensitive subject of their problems for the first time since the divorce. Ray released her hand and she sensed his withdrawal, though he continued to watch her.
        "I didn't mean to, Stella." He promised. "I just....I didn't want ya ta be disappointed in me. I didn't know how to explain some things."
        "Can you explain them now?" she asked sullenly. "Can you tell me what happened with Roberts-because I know that's when things started to change. You never talked to me about it Ray, what happened that closed you off so completely from feeling? Why did you start to have nightmares? Why did you become obsessed with work?" Ray shook his head and finally broke away from her intent gaze, to stare at his dream catch in the window.
        "It's in da past, Stell." He stated solemnly. "Can't we just ferget it?' Stella shook her head. Whatever had happened that night he took Roberts down had changed him and she wanted to know why. He'd refused to tell her during their marriage, but now she wanted desperately to hear the reason.
        "I want to know, Ray." She caught his hand again and forced him to look at her. "You just said you were an open book now, so tell me what happened." Ray shook his head.
        "I can't Stella." He refused. "Please don't ask me. It doesn't matter anymore, none of it does and..." He broke off as Stella abruptly stood and moved away from him.
        "I see you haven't changed, Ray." She stated bitterly. "Some things never do. You're still hiding behind your secrets." She picked up her purse, which she had dropped on the bed when Ray had dragged her in here. "I'll see myself out."
        Ray's feet hit the floor in a flash as he rushed to follow her, but she heard his groan and turned back in time to see him collapse back on the bed. His face had gone deathly pale and he was shaking slightly as he lay sprawled in his back, his legs still hanging over the side, as he held his head and closed his eyes painfully. She returned to him concerned.
        "I... think I moved too quick." He gasped; wincing against the pain that assailed him as she tenderly stroked his forehead and cheek, her anger momentarily gone. She felt ashamed for her behavior, Ray was still quite ill, the infection; according to Fraser; would take a few days to work out of his system, even with the shots.
        "Would you like me to get you some water and Tylenol?" she offered quietly and he slowly shook his head.
        "C...can't mix-em with what da Doctor gave me." He grimaced as he tried to sit up again, much slower this time. "Dere's some pills in da kitchen." She nodded and went to retrieve them. She returned with the prescription and a glass of juice for him, watching him take the medication slowly then settle back against his cushions, as she pulled his legs back up on the bed. He reached for her hand as she turned to go again.
        "Do you need something else?" she inquired softly and he nodded, gently puling her down to sit beside him again.
        "Stay, Stella." He pleaded, his eyes filled with fear and pain. "I don't wanna be alone. Please stay wit me." Ray had never out right asked her for something outside of work in a very long time and she found herself nodding.
        "Of course, I'll stay." She assured kissing his cheek and watching him relax visibly, despite the pounding she was sure throbbed inside his head.
        "Good. Greatness." He muttered as he started to close his eyes, the medication already starting to make him drowsy, but he fought it as he forced his eyes open again to smile at her. "I do love you, Stella."
        "I know, Ray." She admitted kindly, as she started to pull his shirt up over his head, no need for him to sleep in his clothes. Together, they managed to get him down to just his briefs and he climbed under the cool clean sheets, as Stella returned to the living room to lock the door and turn off the lights.
         She came back to the bedroom and rummaged through Ray's dresser drawer for something to wear to bed, since her dress suit was hardly appropriate. Ray looked to already be asleep, as she pulled out his old high school jersey, only mildly surprised that he still had it, and pulled it on. She hung her clothes in his closet then climbed into the bed beside him, noticing how he automatically turned to fold her into his arms, so they were sleeping back to from in spoon fashion. Stella hadn't felt this comfortable and secure in a long time and she drifted off to sleep almost instantly.

        Stella awoke with a start, as she shivered slightly, missing her husband's body warmth. She glanced sleepily at the alarm clock that read just a few minutes after two in the morning and rose to go in search of the detective. She heard the shower running and started to knock on the bathroom door, but it wasn't completely closed so she pushed it open and walked inside. She walked over to the shower and carefully slid the mirrored doors back, expecting Ray to grin at her or laugh at being caught-he did like his showers, regardless of the time of day. However, she was shocked to discover her husband, still in his briefs, huddled in the corner of the stall as the water pounded down on him; his head lowered and his arms folded around himself protectively.
        "Ray?" she whispered worried, as he finally noticed her, though his eyes weren't completely focused. "Baby-what's wrong?" He shook his head and turned away from her, as she reached to turn the water off.
        "No!" he cried suddenly, reaching out a hand to stop her. "G...gotta wash it off. Don't wanna feel it anymore." She stared at him stunned, and moved her hand away from the spray to step inside and kneel beside him, folding her arms around his shaking form.
        The water plastered Ray's jersey to her almost instantly as she rocked him gently begging him to talk to her and finally he did. He told her about the little girl, about Roberts shooting him up with cocaine than assaulting him and the nightmares that followed. Stella felt horrible for bringing the topic up in the first place, for it was probably what caused Ray's nightmares to start again. He told her about all the horrors he'd seen on vice and how he was afraid to talk to her about it because he was trying to cope with his own feelings in regards to the darkness he now encountered every day. Mostly he apologized, apologized for hurting her, for not talking to her for shutting out and failing her and their marriage.
        She soothed him tenderly, murmuring it was both their faults, until the water turned cold and she realized they had to get out or Ray would have a relapse. She reached forward to turn off the spray and managed to help Ray to his feet. She striped off his soaked briefs and her sodden shirt and underwear and draped them over the shower stall, then wrapped them both in towels and maneuvered Ray back to the bedroom. They were both emotionally drained and exhausted with the effort and when they stumbled against the bed, they both fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. Ray's arms went around her and he pressed her to him as he claimed her mouth. Stella moaned and wrapped herself around him as well.
        She had no idea what her husband had been going through during those last two years of their marriage and it both saddened and sickened her that he had felt the need to endure it alone. She remembered when she had been dating Orsini and Ray had kept an obsessed man convicted of battery from hurting his wife, Stella's client at the time, on the court house steps. As always he was the protector, yet she was surprised when he had asked her frankly if he had ever been that way with her and she informed him he always knew where to stop. He had never crossed the line to harming her, even if she had suspected him of stalking her and the congressman the day before. He had also saved their lives and she had been grateful, despite her ability to show it. She had been angry that he had followed her, angry that she was still so affected by him, and that had made her say hurtful things in retaliation.
        Now, as he held and kissed her it was like they had never been apart. They had come close to making love only one time before, that night in her apartment, but Fraser had interrupted them. Stella wondered if Ray had ever forgiven the Mountie for such an inopportune visit, but then he had come to save Stella's life for the second time, so she suspected ray had let it slide. God she had missed him, her Ray, he really was her one true love. There would be regrets later, of course. Tomorrow things would return to the way they were as they always did between them, but for now she was content to lay in her husband's arms and allow him to make love to her with all the tenderness and exciting passion that she had come to expect of him.
 
        Stella glanced across the squadroom of the 27th precinct and watched Ray and Fraser talk privately about their current case. As always, Ray's animated gestures simply bounced off the Mounties's cool, passive exterior, though she suspected Fraser enjoyed his partner's eccentric communication skills as much as anybody did. She had been meaning to find the time to speak with the detective, but for the past two months she had been swamped with work. Ray of course, having gotten over his infection had thrown himself back into his job with all the vigor and stamina that people had come to expect of him. She finished up her business with Welsh and finally managed to have enough time left over before her next appointment that she could try talking to Ray. He and Fraser were already moving toward the exit when she caught his attention.
        "I need to speak to you for moment, Ray." She informed after a polite nod to Fraser, he was starting to grow on her. Ray nodded, surprised and asked Fraser to hang for a moment, while he followed Stella to one of the interviewing rooms.
        "What's up?" he asked her, leaning against the table as she closed the door behind them.
        "I...I needed to talk to you." She commented, suddenly nervous and Ray regarded her curiously.
        "Did I mess up on an arrest or somethin'?" he inquired and she shook her head.
        "No, no." she assured quickly, wondering why it felt so hot in here all of a sudden. This isn't about work it's..." She swallowed. "Personal."
        "So, what is it den?' he asked her puzzled.
        "Ray..." she paused, wondering how he was going to react. "I...I'm pregnant." He stared at her shocked, a pained look in his eyes, even as thy narrowed on her.
        "Who...? C...congratulations, Stell." He managed, dropping his gaze to the floor. "Who ever da Father is really lucky ta have you." She glared at him frustrated.
        "Ray!" she exclaimed furious. "I haven't..." she lowered her voice. "It's yours, Ray. I haven't been with anyone since you and I..." Ray's gaze rose to meet hers in disbelief.
        "M...mine?" he croaked. "But we...I didn't....how...?"
        "We didn't use protection, Ray." She reminded, but could hardly blame him for that after all neither of them had seen it coming. Ray regarded her for a long moment then started to pace, his hand running through his hair impatiently.
        "What...what are you...I mean...are ya gonna keep it?" he asked her, refusing to meet her eyes for what he might see.
        "I haven't decided yet." She told him honestly. "I really have no time for a child, Ray, my career."
        "I know, Stella." He interrupted quietly. "I know yer career's really important-it always was."
        "Not always Ray." She reminded automatically, reminding him of his part in that scenario. When he didn't respond she grew defensive. "I can't just drop everything to have a kid, Ray. I have a lot of responsibilities and a child just does not figure into the program at the moment." Still he said nothing, just concerned himself with the scratches and carvings on the table beside him. She grew wistful. "I can't abort it, Ray- I don't think I could do that with a clear conscience." She thought she saw his shoulders relax slightly in relief but he still didn't look at her. "Maybe adoption, there are lots of people out there that would like a child and can't have any."
        "Lots of people." He admitted, the hurt in his voice evident at the idea of having to give up the child he had wanted so badly. "I could...." He bit his lip. "Stella I could take it...if...if you didn't want to take care of it I mean. I'd be it's dad and...and love it and care for it. I...I wouldn't expect you to do anything for us-ya don't even got see it if ya don't want to." Stella frowned.
        "Ray, you're a single cop, the chances of you being able to raise it alone are..."
        "Fraser'd help." Ray said quickly, finally meeting her gaze. "He loves kids. And....and my mom will help and I can get a different job, Stella-something less dangerous so I can be home for the kid and...." Stella stared at him surprised-he'd give up being a cop to raise his child alone? There were lots of single fathers of course; even some cops, but the idea that Ray was willing to give up everything for a baby that hadn't even been born yet astounded her.
        "What about your assignment, Ray?" she reasoned. "You're still undercover and..." Ray slammed his hand on the table violently, making her jump.
        "Screw Vecchio and screw my assignment!" He exclaimed. "Dis is more important." He took a few calming breaths, and apologized for scaring her. "I'm sorry, Stella. Please, think about it at least. It's part mine and even if ya don't like me anymore how can you hold dat against an innocent baby?" she shook her head in denial.
        "I'm not..." she started to protest but he continued as though she hadn't spoken.
        "I'll never bother you again. I'll...I'll move out of state if it'd make ya feel more comfortable, maybe...maybe me and Frase will go to Canada dere's less crime dere. Dat way no on needs ta know I'm not still Vecchio and it'd be safer for the kid."
        "You and Fraser would raise it?' she questioned unconvinced and he nodded.
        "Yah." He agreed. "We could do it. Frase wouldn't mind, he'd probably love it. He doesn't have any family so it would be like his kid too."
        "Will you marry him too then?" she demanded sarcastically and Ray glared at her.
        "If it'd help yah." He retorted angrily. "Why not-it's not like kids ain't never been raised in a same sex family before." She gasped-she had only been joking-was he really considering a relationship with Fraser to keep his child with him?
        "Ray!" she exclaimed shocked. "You're not gay!" He shrugged and folded his arms across his chest.
        "No, I'm not." He admitted easily. "But I'll try anything once. Besides, neither me or Fraser's had much luck with women, so why the hell not-hell might be da best thing fer us, he's pretty damned attractive, dere might be a way to work it if it will help me keep my kid."
        "Don't you think Fraser might object?" she demanded, trying to make him see how preposterous his scenario sounded.
        "I don't think he would." Ray commented. "He ain't gay either, that I know of, but who knows. I'll go ask him." Stella caught him by the arm as he walked past her for the door.
        "Don't you dare!" she declared and he stopped to stare down to her.
        "What do you expect me ta do, Stella?" he suggested frustrated. "It's my kid too and I want it, even if you don't." Stella dropped his arm and stepped back defeated.
        "I...I know Ray." She admitted quietly. "Let me...let me think about it-okay?"
        "Promise you won't get rid of it, Stella." He requested and she nodded.
        "I won't do that Ray." She assured softly. He nodded and pulled open the door.
        "I gotta go, Fraser's waiting." She nodded and watched him go, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her decisions.
 

        Stanley Raymond Kowalski glanced up from the pasta he was stirring on the small stove as his lover entered the small, but conventional kitchen of their three-bedroom bungalow. He watched the Mountie remove his Stetson, and start to unfasten the variety of buttons and buckles of his red serge tunic, as he approached Ray and delivered a tender kiss to the former detective's lips.
        "Evening, luv." Fraser greeted warmly, as he shrugged out of the coat and wrapped his arms around Ray's waist. "Have a good day?"
        "Yah." Replied the American smiling. "I got four more chapters done and Frobisher called to tell me dere's a new assignment fer us."
        "That's wonderful, Ray!" Fraser exclaimed excited, knowing the detective got cabin fever when in the house for too long. "Where are we headed this time?" Ray quickly briefed him on their newest suspect that had been spotted three miles outside Yellowknife, explaining he had already informed Maggie and Mrs. Blackfeather for their assistance while they would be gone.
        They had remained partners after The real Vecchio had returned, Ray deciding to stay in Canada with Fraser and Buck Frobisher accepted him eagerly, glad for the help of apprehending criminals. Although he had no real jurisdiction, Ray was happy to oblige, using his free time between assignments to write, while Fraser worked as an Inspector for the territories at the local RCMP office.
        Fraser had been amazed at Ray's writing ability, perhaps as surprised as Ray himself that he could write a story so well. He had published two crime thrillers and was working on a third, many of them based on his experiences in Chicago. Fraser helped Ray with the more technical aspects of the writing, but overall the story was all Ray's and Fraser was proud of him. Ray always put Fraser as his co-writer, even though Fraser felt he really only offered a small input. They had dedicated the first novel to Lieutenant Welsh and sent their former friend and superior a first copy. Welsh had written and told them he loved it and he hoped he'd get their asses up to Chicago soon so he could see them.
        "Where's Rose?" Fraser inquired suddenly, just as the front door opened and a young girl of six, with long wheat blond hair, braided into two plaits on wither side and soft blue green eyes, burst in, trailed by a happy Diefenbaker.
        "Right dere." Ray chuckled as the child dropped her knapsack of books and rushed over to them, after quickly closing the door again, of course.
        "Daddy! Daddy!" she exclaimed, not repeating her self simply including both men in her greeting, as Fraser moved away from Ray to catch her up in his arms and hold her upside down making her giggle delighted.
        "Seems we have an intruder, Ray." He remarked to the man behind him, who had turned toward them with a smile.
        "I thought we locked dat door, Ben." He continued the game as Rose squealed and squirmed to get Fraser to set her upright.
        "She must have picked the lock, Ray."
        "Well, dat's a violation of da law." Ray teased as Roses eyes grew wide at what was to come. "Guess we'll have ta punish her." Fraser nodded and righted the girl; just as ray's fingers caught hold of her and started to tickle her mercilessly. She screamed and laughed and squirmed until they were all breathless from laughter and Fraser set her on her feet. She threw her arms around them individually, receiving her hugs and kisses cheerfully, then ran for her bag and puled out the sheets she had colored for them in class.
        "I made these for you." She informed regally and each man accepted his gift gratefully, examined and exclaimed over it, then placed them on the fridge with a magnet.
        "You are turning into a wonderful artist, Rose." Fraser complimented as Ray turned to serve up their dinner.
        "Thank you kindly." She returned politely, then running for the bathroom when Ray told her to go wash up for dinner. Ray watched Fraser set the table and pour their drinks, it was hard to believe it had been six years since Rose had come into their lives. Stella had kept her promise and went ahead and had the baby, giving custody to Ray and listing Fraser as her legal guardian as well. It had been only a few months after his ex-wife had told him of her pregnancy that Ray Vecchio had returned and Stan got his old life back, what there was of it.
         After tracking Muldoon down and capturing him, he and Ray had decided to remain in the territories to go on a quest for the lost hand of Franklin. They received a telegram a few months afterwards from Stella, who had finally made her decision about the child. Ray and Fraser had admitted their feelings for one another while out in the northern wilderness, it had been easier than Ray thought to accept the Mountie as his friend and now his lover.
        He suspected he had been in love with the Canadian from the first day, but his feelings for Stella confused the direction of his love for a long time. Once they were alone and away from all the stress and problems and people of Chicago it all fell into place. Ray had thought he would loose Fraser when Vecchio had returned, but the Mountie wasn't ready to give up the blond that easily it seemed, and had been the first to admit to Ray how he really felt. It still astounded Ray sometimes, when he studied Fraser and he realized that this wonderfully handsome and tender man loved him, him Stanley Ray Kowalski. He had been privy to a whole different side of Fraser, a side the usually remote Canadian rarely showed to anyone else, and Ray found himself loving the man more for each new thing he learned.
        Maggie Mackenzie, Fraser's sister, had offered them her house, since she had met another man and had moved to a neighboring town to stay. She visited often enough that Rose had plenty of female influence in her life, along with the Inuit women who had practically adopted the pale, fair-haired girl. Fraser didn't mind that they lived in the small village of Inyuktuck that was now their home. It was rural enough to be peaceful at night and not worry to much about the criminal element intruding very often, and yet had enough small conveniences that Ray could manage without missing the city to much and going stir crazy. Most of their neighbors were Inuit and the American had developed a fondness for the people and their culture, even if he didn't always understand it. One of the leaders of the tribe had offered to perform a ceremony of joining for he and Fraser, since Canada didn't recognize same sex marriages, and they both sported silver and turquoise bands on their left hand.
        Rose Annabelle Kowalski was well loved and well taught by both men, having accepted the idea of having two fathers easily-with the style and devil may care attitude that Kowalski's were famous for.  Diefenbaker was her constant companion, having traded his life debt to Fraser to protecting the little girl, and the two were inseparable. Ray's Father had not accepted his son's relationship with another man, and so they had returned to not speaking, not that they had communicated much to begin with. His Mother called and wrote to them frequently, sending little gifts to her grand daughter and asking them to visit. She had been devastated at first, holding out that Ray and Stella would eventually reunite, but finally she realized-as Ray had- that it wasn't meant to be and accepted Fraser as the one her son loved.
        Ray stepped up and turned Fraser toward him, catching the Canadian by surprise, as he covered the other man's mouth in a hungry kiss. Fraser hesitated only momentarily before returning the kiss eagerly. The Mountie was a fantastic kisser, Ray figured it had to do with all the things he seemed capable of doing with his mouth, and thoughts of one particularly action that Fraser was remarkable at caused a stirring in his groin at what they would do once Rose was asleep.
        "Kissy face, Kissy face!" Rose giggled and they broke apart sheepishly, Fraser sending her a scolding look for the interruption. Ray smiled and whispered in Fraser's ear.
        "I love you." Fraser smiled and returned the endearment as Rose climbed into her seat at the table and Ray bent to kiss her as well. "I love you to ya little scamp." She giggled and accepted his kiss.
        "I love you both very much." She informed sincerely, receiving a kiss from Fraser as well, before they all settled down to their meal. "When can I have a baby brother?" Ray dropped his fork and Fraser almost fell out of the chair. They exchanged a surprised glance then turned back to their daughter.
        "Um...it's not dat' easy, sweetheart." Ray explained, looking to Fraser for help.
        "Oh, I know you both can't have one." She admitted calmly. "But you could give your sperm to a nice lady and she can carry a baby for you. Then I can have a brother or sister to play with."
        "Where...where did you hear that?' Fraser croaked, cracking his neck nervously.
        "There is a book on your shelf about it, Daddy." She supplied and Fraser flushed.
        "You read Fraser's medical journal?" Ray declared incredulously and she nodded.
        "The last time you and Daddy had to go to work, Aunt Maggie helped me with the big words." Both men stared at her, shocked, then at each other. "Did I do something wrong, Daddy?" Ray shook his head, quick to assure her.
        "No no, nothing honey." He promised gently. "I just...we...we didn't expect you to...well, want a brother or sister." Again he glanced at Fraser. "I...I guess we could look into it." Fraser nodded his assent.
        "Of course, Ray." He agreed, having regained his composure somewhat. "After all, it is lonely when you are an only child. I am sure there is something we can do." Ray nodded.
        "Yah, we...we'll figure out something honey, don't worry about it." She nodded contented and started to eat her spaghetti; unaware of the way her Father's were exchanging puzzled and amused glances across the table.
        "It'd be yer turn on the next one." Ray muttered and Fraser flushed, wondering where he'd find a woman to have his child with no strings attached, or the courage to ask such a favor. Ray chuckled and patted his lover's knee under the table affectionately. "He'll have black hair and blue eyes, just like my favorite Mountie." Fraser smiled shyly and played with his spaghetti-Ray still loved to embarrass him, but he also knew just what to say to make the Canadian feel better.
        He truly loved Ray, more than he had ever thought he was capable of loving someone. At first the idea of raising the child that Stella and his partner had been difficult, but then he accepted that Ray loved him and would stay with him, even if they didn't get to keep Rose, and so that had elevated most of Fraser's jealousy of the other woman. Stella kept in touch with her daughter, but did not interfere in her ex-husbands knew relationship, which Fraser was grateful for. Part of him still felt Ray would go back to Stella if she ever offered, but another part, a larger part, was sure the man would not leave him, Ray was devoted to Fraser and the Mountie was happy with that. Together they had managed to form a family and for the first time in a long while, Fraser felt he belonged.

The end

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