Title - Then The Morning
Author- Lucy Hale
Rating- R
Pairing- RK/RT, implied RV/BF
Warnings- This story contains rape.
Disclaimers- This is an old song, and you all know the words. Don't own em, no money, etc. Comments- This is my first full dS story. My very first one was a crossover, so it didn't really count. This is also the second slash story I've ever written. And no, it doesn't have any hot monkey sex in it, I'm sorry to say. Maybe if anyone wants a sequel, I can fit some in. <g> Feedback - If you would. LucyHale1@aol.com -- And be gentle, I'm a newbie.

"Ray?"

"..en....g'way."

"Ray? Please. You're going to be late again."

"...don't care. Wanna sleep."

Renfield Turnbull shook his head, a look of uncertainty on his face. "I can't let you do that, Ray. I've told you about Constable Fraser's request."

The blanket flipped back suddenly, and blue eyes squinted up at him in annoyance. "Ren, Fraser can't order ya to get me to work on time. It's gotta be against some kinda Mountie code or somethin for him to stick his nose into other people's business."

"Unfortunately it was made Constable Faser's business when your Lieutenant spoke to him about your tardiness."

This Ray hadn't heard before. He sat up and blinked at his lover in surprise. "Welsh did what?"

"Oh, I thought you would have been told. Your commanding officer obviously believes that it is Constable Fraser who is responsible for you arriving to work late every morning, and so they had words. Constable Fraser told me that if he is going to be blamed for your tardiness, the least I could do was attempt to get you out of bed on time."

"Frase said that?" Ray grinned somewhat.

Renfield nodded, his eyes dropping to the ground. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business when you wake up, of course, but I did tell the Constable I would try."

Ray rolled his eyes affectionately and threw the cover off. He slid himself over to the edge of the bed. "Renny, you'd apologize fer the hole in the ozone if you could get away with it."

Renfield's eyes came up, wide and surprised. "Why would I want to-"

Ray chuckled, cutting him off. "Look, you don't gotta apologize fer wakin me up."

"I'm sorry, Ray."

Ray looked at the taller man pointedly, and Turnbull turned away, flushed slightly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for apologizing. I..." He shook his head, obviously at a loss.

"Renny, you take things way too seriously. And if you tell me you're sorry, I'm gonna pop you one."

The Mountie opened his mouth in response, then closed it again without a sound.

Ray grinned in triumph. "Got ya. I gotta go take a shower," he added, almost more to himself as a motivator than to Turnbull.

"I believe that would be in everyone's best interest, yes."

Ray stopped, looking at him for a second. "You gotta stop sayin things like that. I never know if yer serious or kidding or what."

Renfield flushed again. "I'm sorry. That was a joke. I really ought not try to tell jokes, I've been told."

"Yer apologizing again." Ray stood and closed the distance between them quickly. "One of these days yer gonna go a whole day without saying yer sorry, and everyone in Chicago is gonna have a massive coro... heart attack." He grinned up at the taller man, his hands going automatically to Ren's waist, pulling him closer.

Ren returned the smile and almost shyly leaned down and kissed Ray. Just a light touch before pulling back.

"Aw, come on. I deserve more than that for gettin up at the hairy ass crack of dawn, don't I?" Ray's grin grew and his hands came up, locking around the Mountie's neck and pulling him down firmly. He could phsically feel as Renny relaxed into his arms, and the kiss grew in scale until both men pulled away together, panting for air.

"Oh...my. Ray, you know this...oh my...this isn't going to get you to work any faster."

Ray laughed out loud at the blush spreading across his lover's face. "I think you got too much blood in ya or somethin, Ren. You're always turnin red." He gave Renny a playful elbow to his stomach as he moved past him to the door of the bedroom.

Renny watched him go, and the slight, shy smile on his face grew until he was grinning giddily. He released a sigh and sat back on the bed. Life was indeed good. He was reminded of that now every day. Every morning, when he opened his eyes to see the blonde head resting on the pillow beside him, or settled on his chest. When he felt those slender arms around him, for a few minutes he could pretend that this was going to last forever -- that Ray Kowalski truly did love him. That Ray wouldn't tire of his shyness or stuttering or clumsiness. That he would recognize, as so few in Renny's life had, that behind the nervous, painfully self-conscious man was a sharp brain and, yes, a sparkling wit, that just needed to be encouraged to come out.

But then, every day, Ray would wake up, and after just a few words exchanged between them, Renny would turn red and start apologizing for things or start tripping over his own feet. And Ray would laugh at him in that endearing way of his, and almost succeed in hiding his growing frustration.

Renny's smile became wistful before fading into a mere shadow as he realized that his time with Ray was truly growing shorter. Ray was starting to realize now that Renny's behavior wasn't just a mask. Renny truly was clumsy and shy and withdrawn, and it wouldn't go away tomorrow.

And then Ray would leave.

And, of course, Renny wouldn't blame him. The Mountie was well aware of how hard it was for normal people to put up with him, how much effort it took to pretend they weren't disgusted by him. Ray would tire of putting out that effort, and Renny would let him go without an argument. Ray deserved to be with someone he didn't have to work to get along with.

Renny's thoughts, as they always did, continued on their downward spiral, until Ray came back into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel and still dripping from the shower.

"Hey? What gives? You get a, uh, a bad phone call or somethin?"

Oh dear. He hadn't realized he was letting his thoughts show through so plainly. Pasting a smile to his face easily, Renny shook his head. "Of course not. Did you enjoy your shower?"

Ray's eyes narrowed. Damn it, Renny was getting himself depressed again. It happened a lot lately, and Ray couldn't figure out what the heck was wrong. And any time he tried to ask, Renny just changed the subject.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to talk to him about it now, or he really would be late. So he released his emotions in a sigh and moved to grab some clothes.

Turnbull arrived at the Consulate to find Fraser already at his desk and staring intently at some paperwork. "Constable Fraser," he greeted as usual.

"Ahh. Turnbull. How are you today?"

"Just fine, sir. Thank you for asking. And yourself?"

"I'm well, thank you kindly."

Almost the same, every morning. The same questions, the same answers. Renny couldn't help a small sigh as he sat as his own desk outside Fraser's. It was odd, in a way. Politeness was a way to bring people closer together. That was the reasoning behind being nice to others, was it not? To allow people to communicate easier with one another. But the act of being polite led to such stale, artificial routines such as that one. Politeness dictated that he and the Constable ask about each other's state of being, and politeness also ruled that it was incorrect to answer with anything but a variation of I'm fine, how are you? So had something truly been bothering either man, they wouldn't dare talk about it.

Two men who had worked together as long as Turnbull and Fraser had should be, perhaps, friends at this stage. But Renny wouldn't presume to even imagine that Fraser counted him among his friends. This stale, flat morning routine made that perfectly clear.

Perhaps one morning he would simply change it. Perhaps he would tell the Constable that he was feeling poorly, and see if Fraser got flustered at all.

"Ahh, Turnbull. How are you today?"

"My psychiatrist says I'm bordering on manic depression and have paranoid tendencies and a problem with introversion, thank you for asking. And yourself?"

Renny actually found himself smiling as the conversation played on in his head.

"-the rest of the day."

With horror, Renny realized that Constable Fraser had been talking to him outside of his mind. "I'm terribly sorry, sir, but could you repeat that?"

Fraser frowned his disapproval. "Is there something distracting you, Constable Turnbull?"

"No, sir. I...for a moment I was...I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

Something seemed to flash in Fraser's eyes -- guilt, perhaps, although Renny was probably imagining it. "I didn't mean to sound so irritated, Turnbull. Forgive me. Now, as I was saying, there is a rather important matter I need to attend to, one that should probably keep me away from the Consulate a good amount of the day."

"Oh! Are you going with Ray again, sir? Er...Detective Kowals...I mean, Vecchio? I mean-"

Fraser cut him off mercifully. "Yes, Ray will be with me."

"Oh. I...er. I see. Will that be all, sir?"

"That's all, Turnbull. Do remember that the Inspector will be calling from Toronto this afternoon, and man the phone with dilligence."

"Of course, sir."

Fraser nodded once and turned for the front door.

Turnbull watched him go, letting out a sigh of relief. On his own for the rest of the day. That was something, at least. No one to watch him in anticipation of another Turnbull mistake. It would make the day go by much less painfully for him, although he would still make the mistakes, and still feel the embarrasment of each one.

When the door opened at noon, Turnbull stood automatically to greet the visitor. His patented 'welcome' smile grew to a genuine grin when he saw who it was. "Ray! Welcome to-"

"Renny, come here."

"What?"

Ray gestured impatiently, still propping the door open with his foot, glancing out the door as though checking on someone.

Renny stood without another pause and crossed the desk, moving to the side of his lover. "What is it, Ray?"

Ray let the door shut and grabbed Renny's shoulders, pulling him close and kissing him firmly.

Surprised, even a little shocked, Renny tried to pull away for a moment, but the deceptively strong arms held him tightly.

Ray released him finally with a huge grin. "That."

"Oh." Renny blinked, feeling disheveled, even if he didn't look it. He gathered himself, and remembered to look mortified. "Ray! We can't do that in the Consulate. It's..."

"What? Dey got rules about kissing in Canada?"

"Well....I mean, they...I wouldn't say...." Renny shook his head slightly. "Where is the Constable?"

Ray chuckled. "In the car. I told him I just had to stop for a minute."

Renny felt a bubble of happiness welling inside of him, but he somehow managed to keep it from showing on his face. "You came all this way just to kiss me?"

"Well, not exactly. I also wanted to give ya something."

Renny cocked his head in surprise. "Oh? What?"

Ray leaned down and picked up the box he had dropped when grabbing his lover. He held it out, a sheepish smile on his face. "I got this for ya yesterday, but I forgot to give it to you last night, 'cause ya distracted me so bad." He grinned lasciviously.

Renny felt his face getting hot, and confirmation that he was blushing came with Ray's chuckle.

"Yep. Too much blood in you."

Renny took the offered rectangular box carefully. "What is it?"

Ray rolled his eyes. "That's the whole point of wrapping things, Ren. So it'll be a surprise. I hope you like it. I gotta go, Frase is waiting." He looked down at the box briefly, and his smile when he once again met Renny's eyes was actually somewhat shy. "I remembered what you said the other day about how we was so mismatched all the time. I know this isn't what you meant, but I hope ya like it anyway."

Renny smiled happily. "I'm sure I'll love it, Ray. Thank you so much."

"It's just..." Ray glanced at the closed door, then back at Renny. "I just want ya to know that I think about ya. You know, when yer not there. I just wanted ya to know that."

"Oh, Ray, I..." Renny shook his head, touched beyond measure.

"I gotta go. See ya tonight, Ren." Ray took off out the door before Renny could answer him.

Renny was still for a moment, looking at the closed door as though he could still see Ray. He turned finally and went back to his desk, staring at the plainly-wrapped box.

Ray thought about him. When he wasn't there. Renny wasn't sure why that confession had made his day, but he knew it had. He could shatter every vase in the Consulate, he could...he could rip the queen's picture, and it wouldn't matter. Not today. Because wherever Ray was, he was thinking about him.

Almost reverently he started to unwrap the gift, his heart racing. What was inside didn't matter, of course. It was the thought that mattered. But he still couldn't wait to see it. He peeled back some of the brown paper covering the box, and saw in surprise that the underside of the paper had words on it, a design that had been cut off.

His smile grew suddenly. A paper bag, probably from a grocery store. Ray had wrapped this himself with a grocery sack.

His hands slowed their movements as he pictured the slender body sitting at the table in his apartment, the blue eyes narrowed in concentration as the thin, graceful hands cut the bag and taped it to the box.

Oh dear. He was getting...well, in a state not befitting his environment. And by that innocent image.

Turnbull laughed quietly to himself as he opened the box, silently saying thanks that no one was around to witness his arousal. And then he saw what was in the box, and the laugh stopped momentarily.

He reached in and pulled out the fabric, unfolding it and holding it up so he could see it.

It was a t-shirt. A thin, worn, lived-in t-shirt with a small hole near the bottom and frays around the neckline.

Ray must have picked it up at a thrift shop, Renny reflected absently.

He fingered the soft cotton. It was an XXXL, so Ray really had gotten it just for him. This threadbare white shirt with a faded picture of a moose and the logo for some alcoholic drink. Ray had remembered Renny's comment one evening about how odd a couple they were, even when they were casual and relaxing at Ray's apartment. Ray would wear jeans and a t-shirt, or something similar, and Renny would be dressed in pants that, however comfortable, were not jeans, as Ray pointed out, and a shirt, usually button-down. When he had made the remark, he hadn't been trying to suggest that one of them should change.

But he could see the thought behind the gift.

He smiled, and the smile turned into a huge grin. He wished he could put it on, right then, right in the consulate. But he didn't quite dare to go that far.

He would wear it tonight, for the man he loved. And tomorrow he would use his day off to perhaps go to a thrift shop himself and find a pair of blue jeans.

"I dunno, Frase. It's like he gets himself all depressed over something, and he won't ever tell me what's wrong." Ray's eyes went to Fraser suddenly as they waited for the light to change. "You guys must talk a lot, all that time you gotta spend together. He ever say anything?"

Fraser cleared his throat slightly. "I'm afraid not, Ray. Turnbull and I don't often venture outside our professional relationship."

"Whaddaya mean? You mean you don't talk?"

"Of course we talk, Ray, don't be silly. We talk about our business for the day, we talk about-"

"C'mon, Frase. Personal. You guys talk about anything personal?"

"Certainly. I ask him every morning how he is. And he does the same for me."

"Ah, geez." Ray blew out an annoyed breath, his fingers drumming on top of the steering wheel. "I can't believe you two don't ever talk."

"Ray, I just told you-"

"Shut up, Frase. You know what I mean."

Frser opened his mouth to argue, but thought twice and shut it again. Yes, he did know what Ray was talking about. Pretending he didn't was close to lying.

Ray glanced over at him, surprised by the lack of response. His eyes narrowed suddenly. "You don't like Renny, do ya?"

"Ray!" Fraser actually looked shocked. "Why would you say-"

"Be honest. You don't like him, do ya? You always get so...I dunno, so pinched whenever he's around."

"I do NOT get 'pinched.'"

"Sure ya do."

"No, Ray, I don't."

"Frase-"

"Ray, isn't it you who often complains about how I always seem to like everyone? How I always give people the benefit of the doubt?"

Ray shook his head. "It's not the same."

"Are you implying that I hold Constable Turnbull to a different standard than everyone else?"

"Yep."

Fraser's mouth dropped open. "What would make you-"

"C'mon, Frase. I know exactly what it is. And if I see it, I'm sure you do too. You got this...this thing you do, always pinning all yer hang-ups and yer weird habits on, like, bein Canadian, or bein a Mountie. Hell, most other people do it for ya too. You start lickin a lamp post? It's okay, yer a Mountie. You start chattin with yer wolf? No problem, yer Canadian. It works, though, you know? 'Cause I say it myself about ya all the time. But here comes Renny, who's just like you. Canadian, Mountie. But he ain't like you. In some ways he's worse, always cleanin and pretendin to be so dense about things. But he doesn't talk to animals, or go around licking the queen's picture to check it fer dust. He doesn't fit with yer views."

"Ray, this is absu-"

"Hear me out, Frase. You got this thing about Canada. Yeah, it's yer home and all, but you got this sorta blind spot, where you think everything about the place is good, and the people are all wonderful and perfect just like you are. But Renny isn't perfect. At least, not like yer perfect. He makes mistakes, which isn't how you think a good Canadian Mountie should behave. Even the Ice Queen's a good little Canadian, always payin attention to the rules and makin sure things are done right. So you like her. I dunno why, but you do. Not Renny, though. And it's kinda sick, if you ask me."

Fraser was quiet for a long time after that, and they drove in silence, each lost in thought.

"You're more perceptive than you let on to be, Ray."

Ray glanced over at the sudden comment, and smiled slightly. "I ain't dumb, Frase. I'm stupid sometimes, but I ain't dumb. And neither is Renny, just so's you know. Me and him are a lot alike. But you don't see that, 'cause all I have to be is Ray Kowalski, another American screw-up, but he's gotta be just like you. It's a lot to live up to, Frase. It's no wonder he gets so nervous around you he starts breakin things and makin mistakes. You don't think he knows what you think about him?"

Fraser's tone was thoughtful when he responded. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I do hold Turnbull and my fellow Consulate workers to a higher standard. As part of the RCMP, I do expect them to hold up to their training. Becoming one of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police isn't easy, Ray. One must be swift, strong, and sure to pass the test of enlistment."

If it had been anyone else talking, Ray would have thought they were bragging. With Fraser, though, it came out so matter-of-fact that Ray knew pride had nothing to do with it. "I see what you're saying, Frase. But think about it. Renny is a member of the RCMP, just like you. He went through the same tests and passed 'em just like you did. He managed to prove to somebody that he was swift and strong and all that other stuff. Maybe 'cause that somebody didn't just dismiss him as a big goofball from the start, the way I'll bet you did."

"I did no such thing," he protested automatically. There was a pause, though, as he thought about it. "I certainly don't think I did. That is, I hope..."

Ray nodded slightly.

Fraser was quiet again, surprised and almost horrified at these revelations. He had been hard on Turnbull from the first day he'd met him. But Turnbull had been partly to blame for that, hadn't he? He was worse than Ray claimed Fraser was, taking everything so literally, trying to be so by-the-book about the slightest little things. Not to mention that the man was a walking disaster area. Fraser had gotten irritated by him from day one. But surely he hadn't been obvious about it. Fraser would never do that. If there was one thing he was not, it was obvious. There was no way he would have let on to his coworker that he found him to be ridiculous. Was there?

Then again, Ray had picked up on it. Ray had discovered Fraser's feelings, so why not Turnbull?

This was not good.

"I think," Fraser said finally, breaking the silence again. "perhaps Turnbull and I need to have a talk."

T-shirts didn't look very good with jodhpurs.

Making that decision firmly with the briefest glance in a mirror, Renny reluctantly put his tunic back on. He would wear the red uniform home, but hopefully he would have time to change into his new shirt before Ray got there.

He set out to close up the Consulate, keeping only one small light on, knowing Constable Fraser would be returning in the dark.

As he locked the front door, t-shirt firmly in hand, he heard voices from somewhere to his right.

"Is that him?"

"He's got the uniform on, idiot. And he's lockin the place up, there's no one else. It's gotta be him."

Renny turned towards the voices, knowing the two men, whoever they were, were talking about him. "Good evening, gentlemen. Is there something I can help you with?"

The two men were taken aback by the direct question. "Oh. Er, yeah. My friend here, he's...uh, he's got a...a question. About...y'know. Canada."

"Ahh." Renny left the door unlocked and went over to them. "I would be happy to answer any questions you may have."

The first man grinned and reached a hand into his jacket, grabbing something and starting to pull it out.

The second man reached out an arm and stopped it. "Hang on a sec. I really do have a question."

"What?"

"I got a question." He turned to Turnbull. "Okay, so you Mounties wear that uniform, right? But why? I mean, here in Chicago there's really no point, and it kinda seems like in Canada it'd make you guys too obvious. Big flash of red in the middle of all that snow. So what's the deal?"

The first man was staring at his friend as if he'd gone insane.

Turnbull didn't seem to notice. "Ahh. Well, first off, there are certain areas of Canada where it doesn't snow for months out of the year. But I do see what you're asking. Our serge is rather more of a-"

"This is ridiculous. We ain't got time for this." The first man pulled his arm out of his jacket and aimed the revolver at Turbull. "You're coming with us, Mountie."

"Oh. Oh my." Turnbull backed up a step. "I'm afraid I can't do that, gentlemen."

The first thug held the gun straight out, only a foot from the red-covered chest. "You wanna think about that answer?"

Turnbull swallowed and glanced around. No one was in sight. This could not be good. "I...I have to finish locking the doors."

"Leave the doors."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Look, man. I've got a gun. Pointed at your chest. Now leave the damn doors alone."

"If I don't lock the doors," Turnbull reasoned out. "It will alert my replacement in the morning that something is wrong, and people will notice I am missing much sooner than they would otherwise." He thought about that. "On second thought, I'll come with you."

"Lock the door."

"Oh, no, it isn't necessary. I can come with you now."

The hammer was cocked, and the man inched closer. "Lock. The. Door."

"Right away." Turnbull turned and went back to the doors, cursing his big mouth and lack of thinking. Constable Fraser would never allow himself to get hoodwinked like this.

He twisted the key in the door, locking it.

"Good, now come on. I can't believe you asked the guy about the damn uniform."

"What? I wanted to know. I still wanna know, so skip the gag for now, huh?"

Turnbull felt a hand on his shoulder. "Alright, Mountie, let's go."

He turned and let himself be led down the street to a car parked nearby. He let himself get pushed in, and he sat without a struggle.

He had left Fraser a message back there at the door. He just hoped the Constable would get it and understand that something was wrong, and wouldn't think Turnbull had just made another idiot mistake.

Ray paced his living room nervously. Renny should have been there an hour ago, and if there was one thing good about having a Mountie as a lover, it was that they were always punctual.

Punctual. Ha. He was starting to think in bigger words now. The guy was definitely a bad influence.

"C'mon, Ren. Where are ya?" He paced, his eyes going to the phone, willing it to ring, or the door to open, or something.

When it finally did ring, he lunged and grabbed it before the first ring was completed. "Hello?"

"Ahh. Ray. How are you?"

"Frase? What's wrong?"

"By chance is Turnbull with you?"

"No, he's not. He was sposed to be here an hour ago, Frase. You think he's at his place? He doesn't go there a lot but..." He stopped, his eyes growing. "Aww, man. Maybe he didn't like my present. Maybe he took it the wrong way. I just meant it as kind of a joke, y'know? You think he might have-"

"Ray. Ray. Ray. RAY."

"WHAT?" Ray stopped his pacing and glared at the phone.

Fraser took a moment. "I've tried his apartment, Ray. He isn't there."

"Damn! Wait a sec. Why you tryin to find Renny?"

"Well, when I returned to the Consulate tonight, I noticed that he left his key in the lock of the front door. I was calling to berate his lack of responsibility. After all, there is no sense in locking a door if you leave the key there for anyone to unlock-"

"Yeah, I get it, Frase."

"But since Turnbull is now nowhere to be found, it is a possibility that something is wrong, and he was perhaps trying to alert me."

"Something's wrong? You think something happened to him?" Ray's pacing started up again, full force.

"I can't say with any certainty, but that would appear to be the case, yes."

"Awww, DAMN. What happened, Frase? Where is he? You think someone grabbed him?"

"That would be the most likely scenario. You understand that this is all speculation, of course."

"I'm comin over there."

"Ray, there is no need for you to do that. I don't believe anything would be-"

"Fuck that, Frase. Just 'cause you don't care enough to worry about him doesn't mean I don't."

There was a surprised pause. "Ray..."

"Yeah? What?" Ray's voice was challenging.

Fraser's response was soft. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Ray tossed the phone to the vicinity of its cradle and ran to get his jacket.

"This is the wrong one. You fucking morons. How could you grab the wrong Mountie?"

"We watched the place for a coupla hours. This was the only one that came out. Whaddaya want here?"

"Well, put him back and get me the right one."

"Uh, you think that's smart?"

"Oh. Perhaps not. Hmmm."

Turnbull listened to the discussion with an expression he hoped was remaining neutral. He had to stop himself from opening his mouth and giving his own suggestion. This new man didn't seem like he would appreciate getting Renny's input. But for his own sake, Renny hoped the man won and those two men took him back.

There was something about this man that Renny didn't like.

His feelings were confirmed when the man turned and studied him. He took a step closer to the bound Mountie, his eyes running all over him.

"This may not be so bad at that. He's certainly big, isn't he?"

The two men who had first brought Renny there glanced over at the Mountie, then at each other. "Uh...what ya mean, Jack? What are you gonna do with the guy, anyway?"

"That's for me to know..." Jack let the comment trail off as he met Renny's eyes, and reached out slowly to grip him below the chin and study him closer. "I don't know. The other one is so much better looking. I've had my sights on him for a while. I don't know that I could settle for this."

"Uhhh. Look, Jack, we're probably interpreting this all wrong, but didn't you say you wanted the Mountie 'cause he put your brother away or something?"

"What?" Jack nodded absently. "Right, right."

"Well, uh. If this is the wrong guy, it don't make much sense to keep him, right?"

Jack's eyes left Turnbull's face finally. "Are my motivations really so important to you two men? You will get paid either way, though I should pay less for receiving second-rate merchandise."

The two men looked at each other again, a silent debate going on. Finally one of them braved a look at Jack. "Listen, let's take this guy back, we'll get you the other one."

"Are you having second thoughts?" Jack's eyes were piercing.

"No! Uh. No."

"Good. Why don't you take your money and leave us alone?" Jack's eyes returned to his captive's.

Another furtive glance, and the men seemed to come to an agreement. "Yeah. All right. Nice working with you." The first one shot Renny a look that might have been apologetic, and they grabbed a small black bag and left the two men alone.

Jack relaxed as soon as they were gone, circling his prisoner slowly. "What's your name, Mountie?"

Renny swallowed, and stared straight in front of him, his mind racing. There was a way out of this. There had to be. It was just one man with a gun. Constable Fraser would have been able to-

No. Forget Fraser. Just get out of this somehow.

Behind him, Jack chuckled. "I see. Some Mountie code of silence?" His hand came out and ran across Renny's back as he circled back around to the front. "The other one...Fraser? I learned his name easily. Just came to the Consulate one day and asked. He was very open with me." Jack looked wistful. "He's quite a man, that one. It must be hell having to work with him every day, hmm?" He didn't expect an answer. "Do you find him attractive, Mr. Mountie? Do you look at him the way other men and women do? Do you have to maintain a professional relationship with him day in and day out? That must get frustrating. Perhaps we can help each other with our frustration."

Renny wondered if Ray was missing him yet. They had driven to get here for almost an hour. That was enough time for Fraser to return to the Consulate, and for Ray to realize he was tardy. What would they do?

No. Stop it. Don't think about anything else. Find a way out of this.

Jack seemed to read into his silence, seemed to see the sudden determination in his eyes. He grinned, moving away from Renny and over to a door that led further into the small house they had brought Renny to. He knocked lightly.

The door opened and two more men came out expectantly. They went right to Renny, studying his critically.

"He's hardly the god you made him out to be."

"I apologize, gentlemen. It seems my errand boys brought me the wrong package. This was not the man I was speaking of, but I think our friends will like him just the same."

Renny swallowed hard. Three men now. Harder odds. But he could figure it out. He was a Mountie. As hard as it was for some people to believe, he had brains. He could think of a way to get out of this and back to Ray, where he belonged.

"Whaddaya mean, there's nothin? Can't you lick the sidewalk, figure out who was here?"

"I'm afraid not, Ray." Fraser's face was veiled. "As I said, there is nothing to suggest that whoever took Turnbull came in to the Consulate, and it's difficult to find evidence on a sidewalk where dozens of people have probably walked since."

"Come on, Frase." Ray was starting to get scared. Renny had been grabbed, and now Fraser himself couldn't seem to be able to help. "Yer not trying. There's go to be something you can do."

Fraser straightened, looking at his unofficial partner, guilt and anger flashing in his eyes briefly before his Mountie mask settled back on. "I am trying, Ray. Despite what you think, I do care for Constable Turnbull. I may be tougher on him than on others, but I do consider him...he's a friend. And he's an innocent person against whom it appears a crime has been committed. I'm doing my best."

Ray frowned, his eyes going to the sidewalk as though he could miraculously spot something Fraser had missed. "I know that, Frase. I'm sorry. That was a shit thing to say. I'm just worried, ya know?"

Fraser nodded. "I know. But there is nothing else we can do tonight, Ray. I'm truly sorry, but we have to wait until these people contact us with demands for his release."

Ray's eyes were wide as he met Fraser's. "What if they don't contact us?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Fraser's hand came up, brushing his eyebrow slightly. "Then we will go from there."

It was a vague answer, one that revealed how powerless they really were. Ray swallowed. "I...I gotta go talk to Welsh. Maybe he can...maybe there's something...I-I gotta go." He turned and went to the side of the GTO, his eyes blinking away the film that was threatening to blur his vision.

To his surprise, Fraser opened the passenger door and climbed in silently.

"What ya doin?"

"I'm coming with you." Fraser stated it simply.

"Frase, you don't have to-"

Fraser's eyes came over and pierced into his, and Ray faltered. He turned to the front and started the car silently.

Renny shuddered into conciousness, his eyes immediately going to the side.

Ray wasn't there.

He lifted his head to look around, surprised, and a wave of pain swept over him. The shudder that swept over his body was followed by tremors as the pain was followed by a rush of memories.

He suddenly remembered everything -- the Consulate, those two men, Jack. Jack bringing his friends in. The quick, effecient way the three together had managed to overpower his struggling and drag him into a back room, where just a dirty mattress lay.

He had fought then, fought like a maniac, as he realized just what they were planning. They had tried to get him to the mattress and hold him down, but he fought too wildly. So they attacked him, hitting, kicking, until he was on his knees, weak and gasping in pain.

It had been easy for them after that.

His eyes shut, and Renny fought down a sob as the humiliation and disgust swept over him in an almost physical rush. He felt the cold air of the bare room over his naked body, and he curled up around himself, his arms going to his chest. He was shaking -- he couldn't stop.

When he heard the sound of the door opening, and footsteps, the shaking only increased. In the back of his mind, a voice screamed for him to jump up, to face whoever it was and fight his way out.

But that voice was buried under pain and despair so far that it didn't have much power.

A deep chuckle sounded over his head. "Good afternoon. I'm glad you've finally decided to join us again."

He couldn't face that voice. It was Jack, he knew. He couldn't turn and see the smugness, the amusement. The desire.

"Still silent? Just as well. There are a few people I'd like to introduce you to."

A shudder ran through him, and he closed his eyes tightly.

Another chuckle. "You're not quite ready for another round? Maybe I'd better check and make sure myself. My friends won't be here for another hour."

No. He wanted to say it out loud, but his throat wasn't cooperating.

Behind him, he could hear the sound of a zipper in the otherwise quiet room, and he sobbed out a breath.

And then the sound of a gun cocking behind his head made his eyes open finally, and he found himself looking right at Jack's face, inches from his.

"You be sure to behave, Mr. Mountie. I'd hate to have to kill you so soon in the game." He saw the expression on Renny's face and laughed out loud.

And Renny shut his eyes again as Jack moved closer, and he felt the slimy, cold feel of a mouth on his. He pulled away with a jerk, but a hand reached out and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling him back roughly.

His mouth was invaded again, and a gasped breath led to a wet tongue being shoved down his throat.

He gagged, but couldn't pull away from the tight hold. He was too weak, too hurt to fight.

Ray? Ray, please, help me.

Jack pulled away finally, and Renny felt arms on his body, roughly pushing him flat on his stomach. And then he felt the pressure of another body on top of him.

He opened his mouth to scream. No! But nothing came out. No, please. He wanted to shout, to throw off the body as the pressure increased, but nothing was cooperating.

No! He shuddered, sobbing with helpless frustration.

A sudden sharp movement from on top of him, and suddenly fire was coursing through his body. He opened his mouth, and this time noise did come out. A loud, animalistic scream, almost a howl, of pain and misery.

A hand came down, covering his mouth roughly, and his control snapped. He shook with sobs as the pain continued, getting worse and worse, and his mind went blank, leaving him with only one thought.

Ray. I'm sorry, Ray.

Ray jerked up, his eyes snapping open with a loud gasp of air. Renny!

He caught his breath, looking around the dark room. His body relaxed as he realized the image of his lover's corpse lying deserted in some Chicago alley had just been a nightmare. He sagged back, his hands covering his face.

He had no idea it would hurt so much. Renny had been missing for two days. Two long days. And there wasn't a single clue to be found. Not by Fraser the human crime lab, or by the 27th's best detectives. There was simply nothing at all to go on.

Renny was on his own.

So was Ray. And it hurt more than he would have dreamed possible.

It seemed almost comical. Three months ago, if someone would have suggested that this was going to happen, that Renfield Turnbull's disappearance would cause him such pain, he would have laughed in their face.

No. Back then he'd only had eyes for Fraser. Even that had seemed ridiculous, but understandable. Fraser was, after all, walking perfection. He was beautiful, kind, intelligent. He even had a sense of humor in his own, quirky way.

But another thing he had was a torch for Ray Vecchio. The real Ray Vecchio. And that had been one area where Ray Kowalski couldn't replace the undercover officer.

Fraser had informed him of this in that polite, caring way of his after Ray finally made a play for his partner. It had been a blow, but Ray had handled it better than he would have thought. Fraser's polite refusal, and the Mountie's stark fear that that refusal would break up the friendship that had developed between them, had made the letdown actually easy.

So Ray had accepted it, and moved on. He didn't move very far, though.

It was a week after Fraser had burst his bubble. He had gone out once with a new woman down in Forensics, but that had been a dud. And then his sights had set on Turnbull.

It had happened innocently enough. He was going to pick up Fraser, but his partner was in getting dished out by the Ice Queen for something or other. Ray and Turnbull had been left alone, and Turnbull for once hadn't tried to fill the silence with inane talk about curling or the queen.

Instead, he had broken the silence between them with a surprising remark.

"Ray Vecchio doesn't seem worth it, does he?"

Ray had looked over at the goofball Mountie in surprise. "Whaddaya mean?"

Turnbull's face was creased with an expression Ray had never seen before. "He doesn't seem to be worth the loyalty the Constable has in him."

Ray had felt himself squirming under the surprisingly piercing eyes. "What're you talkin about?"

"I'm sure he's a fine detective. He was always nice. But he hardly seems capable of making Constable Fraser blind to better possibilities." He had stared at Ray rather speculatively. And then his face had turned red, and he stammered out an excuse to run to the bathroom.

Ray had watched him go, shocked. Was Turnbull saying what he thought he'd been saying? Was he talking about...him?

Ray was never one to discount possibilities in the relationship game, but Turnbull had just never struck him in that way. Even if he had admired the broad body, the big eyes and handsome, childlike air about Turnbull, he had never thought anything of it. Turnbull seemed to him to be the quintissential virgin. Even if the Mountie had been with women -- or men -- before, Ray wouldn't even know how to get the awkward man into that kind of situation.

But now that was changing. The sharp, perceptive gleam in the limpid eyes had told Ray that there was more to Turnbull than anyone realized.

And the Mountie was attracted to Ray. Better possibilities, he had said.

After that day, it had been easy. Well, not easy exactly. Turnbull's stammering and shyness had doubled around the detective until Ray had bit the bullet and asked him out to dinner.

Turnbull's bright smile at the question had lit up the entire Consulate. It had flowed over Ray like sunshine, sending a strange, warming tremor through him.

Ray hadn't been intending to develop feelings for Turnbull. In fact, he asked him out so easily because he didn't think he'd have to worry about feelings. But that smile had changed everything, in the span of a single instant. After that, Ray knew his only purpose in life would be to earn that smile as often as humanly possible.

And now. Now Ray was faced with the sudden stark possibility that he would never see that smile again. Or any of the other things he had quickly come to love about the man.

Sitting up in the dark room, half-covered by sheets, Ray had to fight back tears. What the hell was wrong with him? It had only been two days, and he was giving his lover up for dead.

Dead.

He felt a shudder going through him. No. Renny and dead didn't belong together. Not his Renny. No way.

Yeah, Kowalski. Easy to say, but what ya gonna do about it?

The answer came back in the form of the silence, the heavy silence in that room. Nothing. There was nothing to be done.

Fraser stood by the door of the Consulate, waiting impatiently -- or as close to impatient as he got -- for the familiar car to pull up so they could go. Go where, or why, wasn't important. But as the time passed and no clues appeared in Turnbull's disappearance, Fraser found himself getting more and more worried.

Even after Inspector Thatcher had gotten word about the apparent kidnapping and had returned to Chigaco, the time Fraser spent in the Consulate was too quiet, and led to a lot of inescapable thinking on his part. Now that he had been shown his own foibles and ill-placed contempt by his partner, Fraser was able to think about the missing Constable with a degree or neutrality.

Turnbull was a good man. As much as Fraser had mocked him -- silently, of course -- for too strict an adherence to the rules, for being even more clueless around the natives of Chicago than Fraser himself was, Turnbull was indeed a loyal officer, a devoted man. A friend.

And Ray was probably right. The very things Fraser mocked in Turnbull were those things he felt most self-conscious about himself. He had been transferring his own doubts onto Turnbull, and the younger man simply didn't deserve that.

Young. Innocent. Naive, shy, almost frightened. There was no telling how Renfield would be coping with whatever situation he was now in.

With a squeal of brakes, the GTO was finally outside, and Fraser immediately headed out the door and to the passenger side of the car. Getting in quickly, he wasted no time. "Has there been any word at all?"

"No."

The answer was short, growled, as the car took off down the road again. Fraser's eyes went to his unofficial partner, and he felt his frown growing deeper. "Ray. You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

"No."

"You know, Ray, the statistics on how much sleep a body is required to get from day to day aren't just numbers. One of the most-"

"Fraser. Drop it."

There was a pause, but Fraser couldn't simply let his partner's state of being go by unremarked. "You look terrible."

He paused, giving the detective adequate time for a snort and a 'gee, thanks, Frase,' or some variation thereof. But Ray stayed quiet, facing the street.

Fraser wasn't the type to give up, but he gave Ray a few more minutes of silence as they neared the 27th precinct.

"Has the leftenant taken you off your other cases?"

"Yeah."

Fraser nodded slightly. He had assumed Welsh would be wise enough to know that Ray would be able to give nothing else one hundred percent until Turnbull were found. How much Welsh knew about the two men's relationship Fraser was uncertain of, but it didn't take perception to see that ever since the kidnapping, Ray had been spiraling out of control.

For the first time, Ray broke the silence, his voice flat and unemotional. "Welsh thinks I'm so upset 'cause Renny was yer friend. Y'know, that was the first thing he asked. First thing anyone asked when they found out what happened. Not 'is he okay' or 'how can we help'. It was all 'how's Fraser taking it'. You'd think...." He shook his head bitterly.

Fraser cleared his throat softly. "I have had much more oppurtunity to deal with the men of your precinct than Turnbull. They probably don't know him well enough to feel comfortable asking."

"They gotta feel comfortable to offer their help? To say they hope he comes out alright?" Ray shook his head. "They been helpin with this case, Frase. But it was only fer you, so you wouldn't have to deal with something happening to another Mountie."

"Ray, I'm sure that just isn't true."

"No?" Ray twisted the wheel, jerking the car into a parking spot in the small garage under the station. He jerked the key out of the ignition, but made no move to open the door, sitting and breathing jerkily.

Fraser glanced at him, wondering what was on his friend's mind, wondering if it would be best to ask or to leave the volatile man alone with his thoughts.

"Frase?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"You ever worry about Ray Vecchio?"

Fraser faced him, surprised by the sudden question. "Why do you ask, Ray?"

Ray met his eyes, but faced the front again quickly. "Look, I don't mean no offense by sayin this, but it's kinda hard to talk to you about things like this. Like Renny. I know yer not what you pretend to be, Frase. Yer not the perfect Mountie, always puttin duty above emotions and stuff like that. But that's really hard to remember sometimes. Yer handling this thing so calmly. It would...it would help me to know you feel outta control like I do."

Fraser nodded slightly. He hesitated, wondering exactly how much it was going to pain him to speak about these old, familiar emotions to Ray Kowalski. "Of course I worry. Every day. He was my friend. My partner."

"Yer lover."

Fraser paused, but nodded. Ray already knew this much, he shouldn't hesitate saying the words out loud. "My lover. And I have no idea what he's doing right now. He could be dead. He could be in some hospital wherever the federal agents sent him, he could be in trouble. He could be just fine. But I don't know, and of course that makes me worry. I have...." He glanced over at Ray. "I enjoy being able to exercise a certain amount of control over situations that affect me closely." He paused, waiting for a snide comment from Ray about his controlling habits.

None came, and he looked and saw the glittering eyes and tightly controlled expression on Ray's face, and felt ashamed for thinking Ray would joke with him at a time like this. "I do understand what you're going through, Ray," he confirmed finally.

Ray nodded jerkily, his lips pressed tightly together as though they could hold back the emotions rising up in him. "Thanks, Frase," he said finally, his voice carefully neutral.

"For what?"

"Tellin me. I know it's not easy for you to admit yer as human as the rest of us."

Fraser felt another pang of guilt, reflecting on his very human reactions to Turnbull, his own snide thoughts about the only man, possibly, in Chicago that was more foreign to the place than Fraser.

Ray once again broke the silence, and this time he wasn't able to bring his voice up past a whisper. "I just miss him, y'know? I'm so worried...."

Fraser watched the emotional blonde's face screw up as he obviously fought the urge to demonstrate how worried he was. And he found himself reflecting in almost detached surprise that he really didn't feel uncomfortable with this whole conversation. It was almost easy to talk about his emotions to the man beside him, the man who knew him as well as anyone, with the exception of Ray Vecchio.

He felt almost liberated, having confessed his constant fears about where Ray Vecchio was now, how he was doing. He knew with certainty that he could now mention this to Ray whenever he wanted, he could possibly call Ray Kowalski in the middle of the night when one of those old, familiar nightmares woke him up, and Ray would listen to him free of judgement or surprise.

It was a gift Ray had just given him, making him talk about how he felt. And now Fraser owed him a gift in return. So he reached out and placed a hand carefully over Ray's shoulder. "It's all right, Ray. You shouldn't try to hold in your feelings."

Ray smiled at that, tightly. "Look who's talkin," he said, a half-hearted joke in his voice.

Fraser watched the smile fade quickly and the face once again struggle to hold back. "Ray?"

His partner looked over at him, and his eyes were broadcasting every single feeling he couldn't let out. He opened his mouth to speak, and Fraser knew the American would at last let his feelings out.

But Ray once again surprised him, turning abruptly, somehow managing to wipe any trace of feelings off of his face, and opening his door. "We don't got time for this, Frase. Let's get in there and talk to Welsh."

When Ray had arrived at the small apartment buiding to pick up Renfield for their first date, he had been alarmingly nervous, and he couldn't figure out why.

He got out of the car and started up to the building, but Renfield had apparently been watching for him, and met him coming down the stairs. "Good evening, Ray." His smile was shy.

Ray returned it nervously. "Hey, Turnbull. How ya doing?" It occured to him that he had never seen Turnbull out of uniform before. Well...he had never seen Turnbull in normal clothes before.

The look suited the Mountie.

"Uh, you ready to go?"

"Of course." Turnbull followed him to the car and climbed in, folding his large frame into the passenger seat awkwardly.

Ray drove them to a restaurant, a nice, dark place where they could talk and be left alone by the prying eyes of others.

And talk they did. Ray had been almost shocked to see the side of Turnbull that came out when he wasn't in uniform, when he didn't have any standards to live up to or any superiors to impress.

He was almost relaxed, he talked easily, without stammering or fidgeting. He and Ray ended up sitting there for hours, just talking about nothing. They made each other laugh. They discovered that they actually had a great deal in common -- estranged parents, jobs they had fallen into somehow and now couldn't get out of even if they wanted to. The same habit of mocking themselves so they didn't have to hear other people doing it.

Well, that last one they hadn't actually talked about. Turnbull was comfortable, yes, but he was still too shy to reveal any of his deeper feelings on that first night. Ray had recognized it, though. The same brand of self-depricating humor, the same wasn't-that-dumb-of-me smiles. The two men were actually very alike, the only difference was Ray had learned to cope and cover his feelings, and Turnbull was still very naive about his.

After getting over his initial surprise that yes, Turnbull was a person, just a regular joe like he was, Ray had settled in to the idea of dating the man. It was easy, watching and listening to him across the table that night. He realized then just why he had been so nervous about the entire thing.

Renfield Turnbull was someone he could -- surprisingly enough -- actually get serious about. Not since Stella had that come along, and yeah, it made him nervous.

So nervous that when he dropped Turnbull back at his apartment, he hadn't even thought to walk him up or even kiss him good night. He had been so relieved to get through the night without making an idiot of himself, he just let the man go without a word.

Of course he regreted that the minute Turnbull had vanished into the building, but it was too late.

So the next day, when Ray went to the Consulate, seeing Turnbull standing alone while Thatcher and Frase talked about something or other had been the perfect oppurtunity.

Turnbull had stood when he saw Ray come in, his face flushing ever-so-slightly. "Detective. Welcome back to Canada."

"I told you," Ray kept walking, closing the distance between them, hiding the nervous fluttering. "to call me Ray." He leaned up and kissed the surprised Mountie lightly, then pulled away.

Turnbull stared at him in shock, but a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. His voice lowered reflexively. "I was worried you didn't have a good time last night."

Ray grinned, relief spreading through him that Turnbull hadn't turned and run, or belted him one. "Hell, yeah, I had a good time."

Turnbull blushed, letting the smile out freely.

And Ray felt the sunshine flowing over him again. For a minute there, he was the greatest guy walking around the earth, 'cause Turnbull smiled like that and he was the one who caused it.

"Perhaps we...I mean, since you did enjoy yourself, as I did....I was thinking we might..." Turnbull looked down at the floor as he paused, looking for the words.

"I can pick you up at eight tonight, if that's cool."

Ray was answered by another wave of sunshine, brighter than before, and for the rest of the day he'd wandered around with a huge, goofy grin on his face.

"-Ray, RAY!"

"Wha?" Ray jerked his head up, his eyes focusing on the bright red uniform in front of him. For a minute his heart almost leaped into his throat, but Fraser's eyes met his, and he sank in disappointment. "What, Fraser?"

"You've been staring into space for the last twenty minutes. You see, this is why it is firmly recommended that an adult male get at least seven to nine hours of sleep per night. Once the body has lost an evening of rest, it cannot gain it-"

"Frase?"

Fraser fell silent obediently.

Ray stretched slightly and glanced around the room. Most of the people who had been swarming when they got there were gone now. Francesca sat at her computer, her eyes blatantly on the two of them.

Ray grimaced and stood. "All right, Frase, what's the plan? We gettin out of here?"

"Vecchio, get in here!"

Ray turned, surprised. Welsh's voice sounded odd, pinched and worried. A bolt of fear ran through him, and he racd into the lieutenant's office, followed closely by Fraser.

Welsh thrust a phone out to him. "Take this."

Ray picked it up gingerly. "Vecchio."

"You...uh. You're the cop looking for the Mountie?"

Ray's hand started trembling, and he held the phone closer. "Yeah. Who are you?"

"Look, we...uh, we prefer to remain anonymous. But we know where the SOB who took him has him stashed."

"Where?"

The voice gave him some quick directions, to a place about an hour away from the city.

Ray wrote it down word for word, gripping the phone tightly, trying not to get his hopes up too much. "Who are you?" he asked again when the directions were safely written down.

"We...well, we kinda helped grab him. But we didn't know what was going on, really. Look, the guy that has him, he lied to us, and we felt really bad about leaving the Mountie with him. He was kinda nice, for a guy bein kidnapped and all. Uh, gotta go."

The phone disconnected abruptly, and Ray hung up shakily.

Welsh cursed slightly. "A few more seconds we woulda had them."

"Fuck that," Ray gripped the paper he held. "Frase, let's get our asses out there."

"Vecchio, I'm sending some blue and whites over."

"No!" Ray spoke quickly, not even sure why he was protesting. "Let us handle this, Lieut."

"Vecchio..."

"Alright, alright." Ray was already starting for the door. "But no one goes in before we get there."

He hit the door at a run, racing to get to the car outside. Fraser was right behind him, still grimly silent.

Gunshots?

Renny's head came up off the mattress slightly. Were those gunshots? Who could be shooting?

He sank back a minute later. What did it matter? Unless they came in and put him out of his misery, the sounds didn't affect him.

He had no idea it was possible to feel so much. He would have thought that there was a certain amount of pain you would feel, and then everything would perhaps go numb, or your capacity to comprehend the feelings would be reached. But no. He felt everything. Lying there, unable to stand, nothing to do but be still, he could feel every single bruise, every torn muscle, every ounce of pain.

Ray.

He closed his eyes as he thought the name to himself, and his mind supplied him with a picture of the man he loved. The slender body, the wild blonde hair, the dazzling eyes that expressed so much.

But the picture didn't bring him comfort anymore. Instead, he could only wonder how Ray would react when he found out what had happened. The disgust, or pity.

Distantly, the sound of a door opening swept over his limp body like the sounds of doom itself, and he braced himself as best he could for another attack.

"Oh...God."

The choked cry reached his ears, and he felt a flash of surprise somewhere inside.

"Oh, no. No. Renny, oh my god, what did they...Renny?"

Renny. Only one person called him...

His eyes forced themselves open, and the mental picture of his lover was replaced. By Ray himself. Kneeling beside him, his eyes bright with moisture, rings under his eyes, pale skin stretched taught over his features.

"Somebody help me!" He was yelling out to the rest of the house, his voice strained.

He was an angel.

But then, abruptly, the vision was shattered when a hand reached out and touched his arm.

The feel of the skin on his made him release a whimper, and his mind was suddenly filled with other touches, other hands. He pulled back, moaning in pain and distress, curling himself into his protective ball, his eyes squeezing shut miserably.

Fraser came into the room as soon as he heard Ray's cry for help. He took in the scene in front of him with shock, stopping in his tracks.

Ray was kneeling next to an old mattress, his hand pulled close to him as if he had reached for something and it burnt his skin.

And on that mattress was the body of the man they had been searching for for days.

Fraser sucked in a breath, his face going even paler than normal, and he had to resist the sudden, very human urge to find the men he had just let the officers take away, and make them all look the way Turnbull did now.

Ray's eyes came up, turning to Fraser, haunted and scared. "I can't...he won't let me touch him. What do I do?"

Fraser took a few steps in awkwardly, seeing the tears streaming down Ray's face. Seeing the shuddering that wracked the curled, shattered body on the mattress.

He stopped, and his feet backed him towards the door. "I'll..." He swallowed. "I'll send in the medics."

He turned and practically ran out the door.

The movies lied.

It was the only thing Ray could think about to distract himself until the face he had been staring at for hours finally moved into consciousness.

Every time there was a hospital scene in some movie, there were the beeping machines, making all kinds of noise. But the machines they had Renny attached to were silent. Which was too bad, because even a little noise would have been nice right then.

He wondered briefly where Fraser was. He had taken off to get the ambulance guys, and Ray caught a glimpse of him standing and staring as Renny was loaded onto the ambulance, and then he was gone. And he hadn't come in once to check on how Renny was now.

Renny.

Ray wanted to reach out and grab the limp hand, or touch his arm, do something to make sure the man was real. But he didn't. Couldn't. He remembered the way Renny had responded to his touch back at that house, and there was no way in holy hell he would risk doing that again.

So he contented himself to sit back and wait, to try and distract his mind from the scene in front of him.

He could remember the first time sex had entered in to the relationship between them. Surprisingly enough, it was Renny who started it, and Ray had actually shut him down again.

It had only been two weeks after they'd started going out. Now normally Ray would have been all over a steady date by the second week. But normally he knew the relationship was going to dead-end shortly anyway. It was different with Renny. He wanted it to last, so he was willing to wait. That led to a lot of hot dreams and a lot of cold showers, but he told himself it was worth it.

Besides, what he had first thought about Renny still held. He had no idea how to get him into a sexual situation.

So after another nice dinner, another night of conversation, Renny had invited Ray up to his apartment for a cup of coffee.

Ray had gone along willingly enough. He hated saying goodbye to Renny. It was kinda silly, but it was true. Now that they were getting more and more comfortable around each other, the smallest things Renny did would wash that sunshine over Ray, so much that he started feeling the warmth just being in the same room as the Mountie. And when he left, the effects were noticable. Ray's world wasn't quite so bright.

So he went up readily, expecting a proper, Martha Stewart-esque tray of coffee or tea and cookies, or something.

Which was why he was so stunned when Renny practically jumped him as soon as the door was shut.

Ray had gone in first, and was looking around the apartment as Renny shut the door. It was...not what he had expected. It wasn't Benton Fraser's style of living, by any means. Not that there was much in the way of decoration, but it was comfortably furnished, and actually very relaxing.

Ray turned to tell Renny he liked it, and found six-feet plus of Mountie right in front of him.

Renny hadn't given him time to get a word out. He had wrapped his arms tightly around the smaller man and kissed him hungrily.

At first, Ray was too startled to react. But then the feelings swept over him -- it was like the sunshine, only...supernova. The heat of it was incredible, and after only a few seconds he was hard as a rock and running his hands up the broad chest, returning the kiss with equal force. He only pulled back enough to draw in a breath, and then fastened himself to Renny's mouth again, feeling the lips part easily, and the warmth of Renny's tongue suddenly trying to inspect every inch of Ray's mouth at once.

But something about it struck him as odd. And even as the heat of the moment threatened to melt his reason away, he had stopped himself, pulling back very reluctantly and forcing Renny to meet his eyes.

That sight alone almost made him dive back in. The Mountie's hair was ruffled, his eyes were bright and hungry with passion, his lips slightly swollen, a light flush making him practically glow.

But Ray somehow managed to stay in control. "Renny..." In control didn't mean he had gotten his breath back, though, and he paused to try and slow his rapid breaths.

Renny blinked, somehow managing to look both innocent and incredibly sexy at the same time. "Yes, Ray?"

God, even his voice was suddenly erotic. "Why...why did you do that? I mean...why are we doing this? Now?"

Renny met his eyes, confused. "I don't understand, Ray."

"Why did you kiss me?" Ray demanded.

And then a look of horror filled Renny's face, and his eyes dropped to the ground. "Oh, Ray...oh, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted...I mean...oh, no." He turned away, his hands going to his face, his shoulders slumped.

Ray went to him quickly, pulling his hands down. "No, no! I do want to! Come on, Ren. You KNOW I want to."

His expression still dark, still fearful, Renny couldn't hold his gaze.

"I just...Renny, look at me. Please?"

He looked up finally, his eyes huge with apprehension.

Ray saw the pain in that gaze and felt his heart aching. He had hurt Renny. Just from one question, he had hurt him. "Renny, don't look like that. I didn't want...I wasn't rejecting you. Really. I just wanted to know why tonight? We never even talked about this before."

"Talk?" Renny's brow furrowed. "But this is how it happens, Ray. It's always...."

"What? What always? C'mon, Ren, tell me what yer thinking."

Renny hesitated, then spoke in a rush. "It's just that we've been going out for almost two weeks now, and no one has ever wanted to...I mean, no one has waited this long to have sex with me. And I do enjoy our time together, Ray. You have no idea how much. But I was afraid because you never asked to come up here before-"

Ray raised a hand, putting a stop to the words, shocked. "You thought..." He shook his head slowly, wondering where Renny had gotten his ideas about relationships from. The man obviously had a longer story to tell than Ray thought. "Renny, I'm not getting tired of you. Why would you even think that?"

Renny looked down again, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "That's what happens."

Ray's eyes narrowed. Yeah, a really long story. And Ray would hear it before this was through, and he had a feeling that a few of the people in that story were gonna need to get their heads knocked off. "Exactly what happens? Tell me, so I know what I'm not doing right." He spoke flatly, but his eyes didn't waver.

Renny drew in a breath. "Well. We go out two or three times, and then you make love to me. And then you leave."

"Is that what you want?"

"It-" Renny's voice broke, and he drew in another long breath. "It doesn't matter what I want. That's what happens."

"No."

Renny looked up then. "What?"

"No. It ain't happening, not this time."

"Oh, Ray." His body drooped again. "I am sorry for making the first move. I know a lot of men like to do that themselves. I'm sorry I ruined things. If you want to leave, I understand. I was just-just hoping to share that --this--with you before you left."

Ray heard the innocent, lost sound of his voice, and felt a dark anger appearing in him. Renny had been hurt before, God knew how many times, by assholes doing what he thought Ray was going to do now.

Well, fuck that.

"Renny, I'm not going anywhere. Yer gonna have to learn to live with me. I'm not gonna lie -- I want to have sex with you, Ren. I really really want to. But it ain't happenin like this. Not when you think it's all I want. It's not gonna happen until you realize that I'm serious, that I'm still gonna be here in the morning." He paused until Renny looked up at him again. "You hear me, right? Screw those jerks from your past. I don't give a shit what they did. This's what's gonna happen this time -- we're gonna go out, and when we decide we're ready, we're gonna fuck like rabbits. And then we're gonna keep going out, until I do my typical dumb-fuck thing and you decide to get the hell away. That's what's gonna happen, here, Ren."

Renny opened his mouth in protest, but Ray cut him off.

"Don't say anything. Look, I know it's gotta be hard fer you to believe. You obviously been hurt before. But why do you think I haven't asked to come up here yet? Or asked you over to my place? This isn't what I want. Well, this IS what I want, but not just this. You know what I'm sayin?"

Renny hesitated, then nodded slowly, the look in his eyes suddenly changing in wonder as he stared down at Ray.

"Good. Now can we have some coffee now, or were you just trying to lure me up here under false pretendenses."

"Pretenses, Ray." Renny smiled slightly.

Ray smiled back. "Yeah, whatever." It was worth it to make himself look a little dumb if it made that smile come back.

"Do you like regular or decaffienated?"

***

After that night, things had seemed even easier between the two of them. Ray came in for coffee often, and sometimes Renny would go to his apartment. And they would talk. It amazed Ray, how they always seemed to have a million things to talk about. Like they could spend the rest of their lives together and still have things they could talk about. It warmed him up to think about that. Brought Renny's sunshine to him even when Ren wasn't around.

And then, a couple of weeks later, they were in Ray's apartment, dancing. Which was another thing Ray loved. The taller, broader Mountie was quite a change as a dance partner -- he definitely wasn't about to attempt to dance with him the way he danced with Stella. But when the two of them were close, wrapped in each other's arms, moving gracefully together to a nice, slow song, Ray felt a weightlessness he had only achieved with his ex-wife once or twice.

And then Renny had brought his lips close to Ray's ear, and kept moving even as he whispered, "Ray, do you remember saying that we could make love as soon as I was ready to accept that you would not leave me afterwords?"

Instantly the air between them changed, sparked. Ray stopped moving, pulling back only slightly so he could gaze into the eyes he was starting to love. "Yeah?"

Renny bit his lower lip shyly. "I think I'm ready to accept that now."

"Are you sure?" Ray could hardly breathe -- his pants were suddenly way too tight, and if Renny changed his mind now it wouldn't take many strokes of his hand to get rid of the pressure building in him.

Then Renny's eyes locked onto his, and the shy smile grew into one that was almost roguish. "Quite sure, Ray. And you?"

Oh, God. That smile was making it very unlikely he'd be able to wear those pants again before laundry day. He licked dry lips. "Oh, yeah."

And then Renny was on him, their lips fastened together, two pairs of hands reaching and tugging at shirts and touching hot skin.

It had only taken a minute before they were both standing bare-skinned, their lips still locked, tongues searching, hands exploring.

And then Renny had fallen to his knees, his eyes meeting Ray's only briefly before he closed in.

But Ray surprised him, dropping to a crouch right beside him, taking his hand almost gentlemanly, considering that they were both naked and rock-hard. "Is that what usually happens, Ren?" His voice was rough with desire.

Renny nodded simply. "Usually. But I want it this time, Ray."

Ray felt himself growing impossibly harder at the words, but he hid the feeling, standing up slowly, pulling Renny to his feet. "Bedroom," he said simply.

Renny nodded again, and followed him quietly into the small room.

Ray led him to the bed and turned him until they were face to face. "Tell me what happens, Ren. Everything."

Surprised at the sudden conversation started, Renny took a minute to respond. "Tell you..."

"The details. Y'know, everything."

His face went beet red. "Oh, Ray, do I have to?"

Ray nodded firmly. "I want to know."

"Well. I...usually, I will...do what I was just about to do. And then....then you would take me. That's it."

Ray nodded, his eyes clouding with passion as he reached out and pulled Turnbull close again.

The Mountie's arms came up, fitting Ray to him as though they were meant to be that way, and his embarrasment was forgotten as their mouths met again.

Suddenly Ray pushed him back gently, and Renny fell onto the bed. Ray was right on top of him, making him lie back as he crawled up his body and met his mouth again.

And then he started back the way he came, pressing light kisses down Renny's neck, his chest, the tight muscles of his stomach. And he kept heading south.

"Ray!" Renny's impassioned gasp made Ray smile. Yeah, the Mountie had guessed what was gonna happen here.

Renny had been on the giving end of nights like this for too long. It was time he knew what it was like to receive. And Ray was more than happy to show him.

Afterwords, when both men lay basking in the glow of the night, Ray broke the comfortable, sleepy silence. "Renny?"

"Hmmm?" His new lover lay stretched like a cat, utterly relaxed, unable to stop smiling. His eyes were shut lightly.

Ray had to grin. "Do you notice something about us? Like, when we're together?"

The eyes opened, and Renny turned on his side to face Ray. "Which something are you thinking of?"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe I'm just being stupid, but when you're with me, it kinda seems warmer around. Brighter. Is that dumb?"

"If it is, we can be idiots together." Renny chuckled softly.

"You too?" Ray tried not to sound too hopeful.

"Me too," Renny confirmed. "You're my sunlight, Ray." He spoke simply, for once free from embarrassment or doubt.

Surprised to hear his own feelings reflected so plainly, Ray leaned in and kissed him gently.

Renny smiled sleepily, his eyes shutting again.

I love you.

Ray wanted to say it out loud, but wasn't quite sure either of them were ready yet. But he thought it -- knew it in his own mind. He loved Renfield Turnbull.

Ray's eyes shuddered open, drawn instantly to the still-sleeping face on the white pillow. He drew in a harsh breath.

He hadn't ever said it. From that night, when he first knew for certain, up until they had last seen each other days ago, Ray hadn't voiced his feelings.

"I love you." He said it now, when it didn't make any difference. Renny couldn't hear him. But he said it again. "I love you."

It felt good, actually. Thoes words, directed at that face. Ray looked down to where the limp hand lay on the bed, wanting to grab it but not daring. "I love you. Please be all right."

"Ray?"

He caught his breath, immediately looking at the face on the pillow, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Ray?" The second time it was more apparent that the voice was coming from behind him.

Ray tried not to droop too much as he turned. "Fraser."

The tall Mountie stood framed in the doorway, his eyes glued to Ray's as if he couldn't bring himself to look anywhere else. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, we do." Ray could feel his anger building up. He gave one last, long look at the sleeping face and stood, going to the door and following Fraser into the hallway. "Where the hell have you been?"

Fraser was apparently taken aback at the direct question. "I was at the station, Ray. They gathered some evidence about the men who abducted Constable Turn-"

"God dammit, Frase! Would you stop that?"

"Stop what, Ray?"

"Stop acting like this is another everyday case. You been doing this since he was grabbed. You keep sayin that you care about Renny, so how come you don't act like it?"

Fraser hesitated before answering. "We all have different ways of expressing our feelings, Ray. I thought it would be in Turnbull's own best interests if we gathered as much evidence against his attackers as possible."

"What if it had been me, Frase?"

"What?" Fraser's hand went to his eyebrow immediately.

"What if it had been me? Not a hard question. What if I was the one missing? Would ya have gone back to the station then, too? Or would ya have bothered to come down and see how I was doing first?"

"I...I would...I don't believe this is relevent to our present-"

Ray's eyes were watering as the emotions he had repressed for days suddenly came back all at once, and he had to fight once again to keep them concealed. "Y'know, I'm almost glad he hasn't opened his eyes yet. 'Cause if he had, and you weren't here, it woulda hurt him really bad, Fraser." Ray made sure his friend was listening to him.

Fraser stood almost at attention, his cool mask on, studying his partner impassively.

The stance drilled right into Ray's heart. "You insensitive son of a bitch. You're his hero, you know that? You're the reason he wanted to come to Chicago in the first place. He always admired yer dad, and now he admires you. It hurts him when you laugh at him, Ben. He notices every single time you roll yer eyes, or you and the Ice Queen talk about him. He's not stupid. He knows how nice ya are to everyone else. And it really upsets him that you can't even fake polite fer him." Ray shook his head, glancing back at the door to make sure it was closed and he wouldn't wake Renny up.

"Ray..."

"Yer with him every day and you never say a word that ain't about business. He wants to be friends, Frase. I wish you'd give him a chance. But ya know, even though yer not friends, the least you coulda done was come here fer me. I coulda used someone to talk to, y'know? And you can bet yer ass that if it was Ray friggin Vecchio in that bed, I'd've been right by yer side makin sure you were okay. I don't know what's wrong with you, Frase. Sometimes I really think you got no feelings at all."

Fraser stumbled forward, his hand slightly out in front of him. Whether to close the distance between the two men or ward off the words Ray was lashing at him, neither of them could tell. "Ray, please don't-"

"Don't talk to me, Frase!" Ray moved away violently, his voice cracking. "I'm not the one been hurt. Why don't you go in there? Talk to him. Or just go in there and roll yer eyes, like ya always do. Get the Ice Queen in with ya, you can have a laugh over it. Stupid Turnbull." He could feel the tears spilling over, but wasn't about to acknowledge them or wipe them away in front of Fraser. "Turnbull, the walking punchline. He's so dumb he got himself kidnapped and beaten and raped."

Fraser stopped in his tracks, his face blanching. "W...w-what?"

Ray paused. The sudden stammering and ghastly expression made it through his furious haze, and he saw the genuine shock on Fraser's face. "Come on, you saw the way he looked when we found him."

"Y-yes, but I didn't...I didn't think-" Fraser was shaking his head in mute denial.

"And ya know what's funny? I'd bet if he was awake and you went in now, you'd ask him how he was. And he'd say he was fine. And you'd just nod yer head and leave, right?"

"Stop it."

"Well, no, Frase, he's not fine. He got raped. Violently, r-repeatedly raped. You happy now? Those bastards probably laughed at him while they was hurting him, he probably felt right at home."

"STOP IT!"

Ray's mouth snapped shut, startled at the sudden shout.

Fraser clamped a hand over his own mouth and turned away, his head still shaking, his eyes horrified.

Ray knew he'd gone too far, and he turned slowly back to the door. He opened his mouth to speak, but ended up opening the door and going back in without a sound.

***

Fraser stood there, struck dumb, for a long time, his eyes going to the open door. Rape. Dear God, he couldn't even think about it. He knew -- he wasn't that naive -- that it happened. But it had never hit him quite so closely before. He had never actually known someone...especially not a man, who...

Dear God.

Turnbull. Fraser had had time in the last few days to reflect on Renfield Turnbull. He could remember, well, everything. And it was funny how things came to him now that he had never recognized before. The twinkle of humor, actual, intelligent humor, in Turnbull's eyes as he forced Fraser to take him through long, detailed instruction about secret meetings and witnesses. The few other times that perception had been present -- when he held police and federal agents at bay, stopping them from getting their hands on the man who killed Fraser's father.

But far more alarmingly common were the times when that sharpness was buried under embarrassed flushes, or nervous stammering. Anxiety that was only increased by Fraser's barely tolerant attitude, or Thatcher's constant yelling. The wide, innocent smile, the crushing disappointment and self-loathing when a vase was spilled, or a phone connection accidently severed, or a picture hung crookedly.

Even if there was a depth to the Constable that Fraser hadn't even imagined, it was buried under Turnbull's innocent, gullible, trusting nature. The man was quite literally a child, a young man that had been yelled at all his life, who had a sharp intelligence that was buried by being constantly laughed at and told he was nothing.

Dear God. He was more like Fraser than Fraser would have possibly imagined before. And Fraser himself, who knew so well how horrible it was to feel always different, to be mocked and told he was inferior for things he couldn't help, Fraser himself was one of Turnbull's tormenters.

His feet moved mechanically, and he found himself suddenly at Ray Kowalski's side, staring over the now-seated detective's shoulder at the still form.

He imagined himself when he was much more like Turnbull -- before coming to Chicago, before finding his own self-worth. And he imagined suddenly a crime like this happening to him back then.

Ray could feel the sudden shuddering from beside him, and he glanced up, ready to still be angry at his partner.

Instead of anger, though, he heard himself sucking in a breath at the utterly agonized look on Fraser's face. "Frase? Buddy, what's..."

Fraser shook his head silently. His eyes changed as he looked down at Turnbull, as he studied the smooth, innocent face ravaged by bruises and scars. A sudden fierce determination appeared, and he turned to Ray finally. "He will never," he said slowly, steadily. "Never be laughed at again."

Consciousness did not so much creep up on Renny as it jumped him from behind and flattened him under it's attack.

His eyes jerked open, and he inhaled a sudden, sharp breath as he tried to sit up. Twisting pain in his body aborted that idea, though, and he fell back onto the pillow.

The first thing he noticed was that he was dressed and covered. They weren't his clothes, and this wasn't his bed, but it was a change, and that had to be good.

The second thing he noticed was the pale, washed out figure sleeping in the chair beside his bed.

Ray. Oh, God, was it possible? Was this really a hospital bed? Was his lover really beside him again?

And then his eyes caught on another figure, this one in a chair against the wall.

Constable Fraser?

Now he KNEW it was a dream. Why would Fraser be sitting in his hospital room?

But even as he found himself thinking that, the man he was looking at moved suddenly, the blue eyes opening and locking right on Turnbull's.

Fraser sat up quickly. "Renfield?"

And calling him by his first name? His mind was playing strange tricks this night.

With a groan, he rested his head back on the pillow, fighting off waves of nausea and shutting his eyes on the increasingly blurry visions his mind was supplying.

He thought he heard a voice talking to him, but he dismissed it as more imaginings and drifted back to sleep, reflecting that it was nice, though twisted, that he had been allowed to look at the two men who meant the most to him one more time.

***

"Renfield?" Fraser stood in surprise and went right to his coworker's side.

Turnbull let out a faint groan and sank back, his eyes shutting again.

"Renfield?" Fraser said again quietly, knowing full well the Mountie had already lost consciousness again.

"Fraser, what's..." The sleepy voice behind him cut off. "Renny! Renny, you awake?"

Fraser turned to Ray. "He was, momentarily. He's already out again."

"Oh, no. Renny? Wake up. Please, just for another minute. I'm sorry..."

Fraser gently took Ray's arms and sat him back down. "Let him rest, Ray."

"No! I...I wanted to be here for him. When he woke up. Renny?" He turned back to the bed, his eyes watering helplessly.

"You were here, Ray. I'm sure he saw you."

"No! Frase, I wanted to be here." He sank down again in exhaustion, his hands covering his face.

Fraser stood over him for a moment, uncomfortable.

"What are you doing, son?"

He shut his eyes briefly, turning and seeing his father standing by the door of the room. He opened his mouth to bark out a question, but shut it again, glancing back at Ray.

"I'll be right back, Ray."

The blond didn't even seem to notice he'd spoken.

Fraser turned and went out into the darkened, deserted hallway. His father stood there already. "What are you doing here?" Fraser demanded.

Robert Fraser gazed at his son coolly. "That's what I'm asking you."

"What?" The very solemness in the ghost was enough to make Fraser pause.

"Son, what do you think you're doing here?"

"I...I'm trying to help," Fraser answered quietly.

"Are you? Because that's not what I would have guessed. What were you going to say to that boy if he hadn't gone back to sleep?"

Fraser blinked in surprise. "I don't know," he confessed.

"Right. And what were you going to say to the Yank?"

"I..." Fraser swallowed. "I don't know," he repeated dully.

"Big help, son."

"Dad, I don't know what to do. This is so..."

"So what? What is there to think about, son? The man you claim is your best friend is in there crying like a baby. A fellow officer has been attacked. And you're standing around like a statue."

Suddenly angered, Fraser looked his father in the eye. "And I suppose you would have been so much more comfortable in this situation."

"Of course not. I was never...good at other people's emotions. Hell, I wasn't that good at my own. And that led me to live my last days in abandoned lands with maybe one or two friends in the entire country. You're not going to end up that way, not if I have anything to say about it. So you figure out what the hell's wrong with us, and you fix it. And be there for your friends." He looked at his son solemnly. "You've been alone too long, son. Find a way to fix it."

Fraser turned to the shut door, his thoughts spinning. He glanced back into the hallway, not surprised to see his father had vanished, and then silently went back in to the room.

Ray was still slumped in that chair, his hands still shielding his face, his body shuddering.

Fraser did something he had never done before. He forced himself to stop thinking, to stop analysing his actions and their possible consequences. He let himself run on pure emotion.

He went to the side of his friend, crouched down, and gently wrapped his arms around the slender body.

Ray tensed briefly, but a second later fell into the embrace, sobbing harder than before.

Fraser held him tightly, letting his own tears shed without a hint of self-consciousness. He cried for himself and his lonely nature, at the cord his father had struck in him. He cried for the one man he hadn't had to shield himself from -- Ray Vecchio, wherever he was now. He cried for this man he held, now the second person to be exposed to Fraser's naked emotions. He cried for the man lying beside them, who had tried to offer others his friendship and been laughed at, who still managed to hold on to a hint of innocence and optimism even though he had been mocked his entire life. And he cried with the knowledge that now a group of criminals had savagely and without cause probably destroyed that innocence and optimism for good.

The second time consiousness found Renny, it crept up. He wasn't aware of the moment when he first awoke -- he became aware, slowly, of the numbness in his body, the sore, heavy feelings in his limbs. And the sound of breathing in the room with him.

Breathing. Had Jack decided to spend the night with him? Perhaps he thought it would be more romantic.

The slight, black amusement came and went, leaving Renny with a shudder. He forced his eyes open, and looked in surprise at the sheets covering his body. He blinked, turning his head slowly and stiffly to gaze around the room, and saw --

Oh, God. Ray. It wasn't a dream. Ray was there.

Emotions surged up, wanting to escape but trapped in the wounded, drugged body. He simply let a rush or air pass his lips, trying to form it into a word -- Ray -- but failing.

The blonde detective was out like a light, dead to the world.

Renny almost didn't mind. He was glad for the minutes to himself, not sure he could gather his swirling thoughts enough to be able to talk. For the moment it was enough to know that Ray was there.

But, suddenly, just like that, the lightness of his thoughts vanished. Ray was there. Ray had been there all night. Ray had come and rescued him.

So Ray must know what happened.

Renny's eyes shut slowly, praying for sleep to come again.

Fraser gazed at the closed door for a long moment before opening it and going in. His eyes immediately went to the still form on the bed, and his frown deepened when he saw no sign of improvement. His gaze moved to the other person in the room, and the frown vanished suddenly.

Ray. Stanley Ray Kowalski, the remarkable man that was his partner. The man he had opened up to last night, had held as he cried. The man he himself had cried in front of. And Ray had neither laughed nor pulled away. He didn't even act shocked that Benton Fraser the Perfect Mountie had emotions. He was more...grateful. As though he had always known Fraser's feelings were there, and had been waiting all this time for him to express them.

Which very well might be the case.

Not for the first time that morning, Fraser sent a silent word of thanks to his father for arriving the night before.

"Ray?"

The detective came awake instantly, his eyes going to the face on the bed, glowing with hope. The light faded, of course, and he shook his head slightly, turning to Fraser. "Frase. Morning." His voice was hoarse with fatigue and emotion.

Fraser held out one of the steaming styrofoam cups he held. "Coffee?"

"Thanks." Ray took the cup with a small grimace that was perhaps supposed to have been a smile. He took a gulp of the hot liquid, grimaced, then took another sip. "Needs chocolate."

Fraser smiled tightly. "I'm afraid the vending machines were empty of M&Ms." He took his seat in silence, and the two men sat for a minute, the silence between them almost comfortable.

"Frase? Uh...Ben?"

Fraser felt an unexpected easing of tension at the sound of his first name. "Yes, Ray?"

"I gotta say something." Ray took a breath, his eyes on the brown liquid in his cup.

Fraser, for once, was wise enough to stay quiet, to give the man a chance to gather his thoughts.

"Look, I been pretty rough on ya the last few days, and there's no excuse for it. I'm sorry."

Fraser opened his mouth to protest, but Ray waved it aside.

"I know, yer gonna say I got nothing to apologize for, that I was so worried I couldn't control my feelings, stuff like that. But it ain't right. I was real worried about Renny, and I took it out on you. Yer right there. But just cause I was upset don't give me the right to act like you don't have any feelings." The words made him wince. "And I really shouldn'ta said that about you not havin any feelings of yer own. 'Cause even I know how wrong that was." He sighed, his eyes going back to Renny's slack face. "And I wanted to say thanks fer being here. This whole thing woulda been ten times harder if you weren't here."

Fraser took advantage of the next pause to reflect. No, this didn't feel as awkward as it would have yesterday. Somehow he could accept these words, these feelings, from Ray easier now than he could have before they had cried with each other by Turnbull's bedside.

A line had indeed been crossed. Their partnership was that much stronger because of it.

"Ray, I was indeed going to tell you that you weren't to blame for your feelings. But I won't say that." He smiled slightly. "I accept your apology, and wish to offer one of my own, for not being here for you sooner."

Ray started to protest, but met Fraser's eyes and shut his mouth. Finally he returned the smile. "Apology accepted," he threw back.

"Thank you kindly."

"Yer kindly welcome."

They grinned at each other, then Ray turned back to Renny's side.

Fraser stood and went to his now-designated spot behind Ray, looking over his shoulder at the unconscious man. He lay a hand on his partner's shoulder, and felt the tight muscles relaxing slightly under his touch. Amazing. He didn't think he had achieved this level of closeness with anyone besides Ray Vecchio, and even then he had to limit his closeness to when they were in private. Ray Kowalski, Fraser knew, would now accept these gestures, these touches and simple comforts, anywhere. It was liberating.

But as his gaze focused on Turnbull, his thoughts started transforming. He remembered his words to Ray, when he had sworn that Renfield would never be laughed at again. But that wasn't enough. He knew it, and he had a feeling that Ray also felt it.

The men who had done this had to pay.

Fraser was surprised at the depth of those thoughts. Since when was he not content to let the wheels of justice turn without interference? Sure, he would break the rules and go beyond the dictates of his job to catch a criminal, but once they were caught, his job was over.

The men in that house with Turnbull had been caught, but this time it wasn't enough.

"Jack Crawford," he heard himself saying slightly.

The muscles under his hand tensed again. "Welsh was here for a while yesterday," he said softly in reponse. "He told me Crawford and his men are all set to fight this. There's gonna have to be a trial." He stopped abruptly.

Fraser knew what had suddenly choked him. As if Turnbull hadn't been through enough, he would have to testify at the trial of these men, relive his attacks in front of an audience. But it was perhaps premature to worry about it before Renfield was even awake.

As if reading his mind, a low moan came from the direction of the bed.

Ray immediately leaned forward, reaching out to grip a limp hand. "Renny?"

Turnbull's eyelids fluttered, and opened abruptly, locking onto the worried blue eyes above him. A look seemed to pass through, a brightness and glow coming to the round eyes, but it was followed by a sudden darkness. "...Ray."

Ray almost sobbed out a breath at the sound of his name. "Renny," he said again, just for good measure.

Above him, Fraser squeezed his shoulder happily, and smiled when he found Renfield's eyes moving up to him. "Constable. It's good to have you back."

Ray glanced up at him, and the two men shared a smile.

***

Renny rasped out his lover's name. "...Ray." He could hardly believe it. He wanted to hold on to this moment forever -- the moment when he woke to find the man he loved waiting for him, before the inevitable pity and disgust had a chance to surface.

"Renny."

Ray's reply was choked, and Renny almost sighed. Pity, and so soon.

And then he saw Fraser, standing close to Ray, his hand on his shoulder, giving an affectionate squeeze. "Constable. It's good to have you back."

Renny watched Ray's eyes leave his and travel up to his partner's. He watched the two men share a comfortable smile. A smile that seemed so much more than what it had been when Renny had last seen them.

Oh, Dear God. Let this be a nightmare. Please, let him not have woken up just to find this. It was too much. He had lost everything the last few days -- his small, loosely-held sense of self-worth, the little pride he had. Everything had been taken from him. Please, don't let Ray be gone as well.

Renny drew in a harsh breath, knowing that praying would do no good. Hadn't he sent up prayers in that little room with the dirty mattress? And hadn't that been a waste of time?

Ray was gone. In the last few days, when Renny hadn't had anything to hold on to accept the knowledge that Ray would be looking for him, Ray had been busy rediscovering his partner.

Renny wasn't blind. He had always been well aware of the feelings Ray had for Benton Fraser. And why not? Renny himself had harbored similiar feelings, at a greater distance, but they had gone away under a wave of golden sunlight and blue eyes. Ray had driven any thought of Fraser from his mind.

He shouldn't be surprised to find that he hadn't been enough to do the same for Ray.

And now...now Fraser was smiling back. Now he was returning his partner's casual touches, now he was offering Ray an open smile. It was the thing that had kept Renny up nights. It was the worst thing that could have happened, the thing that would take Ray from his side. It meant the end of his happiness and joy and security and please PLEASE God let it be a nightmare.

***

"Renny?" Ray's eyes clouded over as he looked back down at his lover's face. A twinge of concern struck him as he recognized the sudden, too-familiar look of despair in Renny's eyes. "You okay?" Mentally he kicked his own head in. God, could he have asked a dumber question?

Renny's eyes shut slowly. "Fine," he breathed out, his voice thin.

Ray glanced up at Fraser, saw similiar concern in the blue eyes that met his. When he looked back down at Renny, he saw that his lover's eyes were open again, watching the two men.

And then Renny pulled his hand away from Ray's firmly, and the light seemed to drain out of his face. "I'm tired. Could you leave me alone and let me sleep?" His voice was flat.

Ray frowned. "Renny, I don't-"

Renny fought for control over his expression, straining to achieve the look of stern blankness he wore on guard duty. "Please. You and Constable Fraser leave me alone."

Fraser cleared his throat slightly. "Constable, perhaps you aren't thinking too clearly at present. You should-"

Renny snapped, jerking himself to a sitting position and flashing a glare at them. "Get out! Now!"

Ray drew back as if struck, rising from his seat and looking down at Renny in confusion and pain. "Renny, please, tell me what's wrong."

"I'm tired! I told you. I don't feel like putting up with this right now."

"Putting up with...." Ray's voice was hoarse, his head shaking slightly, stunned by the level of force and anger coming from his shy, inhibited, gentle lover. He reached out a hand, reaching almost beseechingly for Renny's arm. "Please. Please."

Renny felt the contact, and a thousand nightmares flashed through him at once. He felt a jolt going through him at the force of it, but he squeezed his eyes shut, jerking out of Ray's reach, pulling himself back from the faces and bodies and hands in his mind. Knowing they would be there in his dreams that night, be there whenever he closed his eyes. They would be the only things keeping him company now.

That thought made the hot tears rise, and he kept his eyes shut, willing himself to control it until he was alone. He spoke again softly. "If you don't leave me alone, I shall call a nurse and have you removed."

Ray sucked in a shaky breath, and his entire body seemed to slump. Confused, upset, hurt, worried, his outstretched hand dropped to his side in defeat. "All right," he whispered quietly. "We're going." He turned and headed for the door, his movements stiff.

Fraser looked between the two men for a minute. Renny, on the bed, his eyes screwed shut tightly, his entire body tense. And Ray, looking as though someone had just pulled the plug on any energy and happiness he might have ever felt.

Slowly he followed Ray, and quietly he shut the door behind them.

Renny heard the sound of the door shutting, and his eyes opened just long enough to take in the empty room before he was suddenly wracked with shuddering sobs. His heart broken, his very will destroyed, he curled up on his side and hoped the tears would drown him.

***

Ray stumbled into the hallway, and distantly heard the sound of Fraser shutting the door. Just like that he sagged, leaning against the wall for support. "Ben...."

Fraser went to him immediately, his hands going once again to the tense shoulders.

"What did I do?" Ray asked helplessly.

Fraser shook his head. "I don't know. I think perhaps Constable....Renfield is confused right now."

Ray hesitated, then met his eyes, a sudden, dark knowledge flashing over his face. "I'm gonna lose him, Frase."

"No. You don't have to."

Ray gazed back at him for a minute, then nodded his head sharply and passed him, opening the door into Renny's room again.

Renny lay curled up, shuddering with sobs, not even noticing the door had been opened.

Ray's heart leapt into his throat. He was at his lover's side in a flash, reaching out for him. At the last second he pulled his hand back, remembering that every touch of his hand led to something worse. "Renny?"

The blue eyes flew open, and Renny pulled further into the bed, unable to stop his crying.

Ray perched on the edge of the bed, hurt to see his love in so much pain, and unable to even offer a comforting touch. "Renny, please don't pull away from me."

Renny shook his head helplessly, any words he could have used to respond choked under sobs.

Ray stretched his hand out, getting as close as he could to Ren without touching him. "Please, babe." He blinked away his own tears. "I love you. I love you so much, please don't pull away."

For a moment, Renny stilled. His body stopped it's shaking, his tears quieted. He looked up at Ray, shock coating his features. "...what?"

In a flash, Ray dared to hope that Renny really did want him there, that he had only pushed them out because he was scared. "I'm sorry I never told ya before. I knew it. I've known for a long time, but I was...I love you, Ren. These last few days have been the worst in my life. Please don't leave me now that I've got you back."

Renny pulled himself up slightly, pain mingling with hope in his eyes. The tears he was holding back began spilling again, and the trembling returned to his body.

But this time, when Ray held out his hand, Renny grasped it like a lifeline, squeezing it with both hands.

Ray felt a relief at the contact. Relief that mingled with the now-familiar pain and anger of what had happened. He leaned closer, wrapping his other arm around the shaking shoulders.

Renny buried his face in Ray's shirt, and the two men stayed close, half-sitting, half-laying, as Renny sobbed out his pain.

Finally, the Mountie was able to pull away and look his lover in the face. "Ray..."

Ray gave him a small, comforting smile. "It's okay, Renny. It's over now."

Renny inhaled sharply, then actually managed to return the smile with a faint one of his own. "I...I'm sorry."

Disbelief replaced comforting. "For what?"

Renny looked down at his lap. "For pushing you away. I saw you and Constable Fraser, and I could have sworn that you were closer than I had ever seen, and I thought...." He ducked his head, ashamed.

Ray gaped. "You thought we..."

Renny tensed, ready to hear the shocked and angry reaction.

"Renny....God, I'm sorry."

Eyes huge, Renny looked up and met Ray's eyes. "What?" he replied, stunned.

"You told me to leave, and I was gonna go. Frase had to tell me to come back in. After everything you been through, I was gonna desert you here just 'cause ya told me to go. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to think I left you for Ben. I'm sorry any of this ever happened."

There was a faint rapping on the door behind them. Ray pulled back and turned to see Fraser standing in the doorway, indecision in his eyes. "Is everything..."

Ray smiled. "Everything's good, Frase. Come on in."

"No."

Ray turned to Renny, surprised. "No?"

The wounded Mountie met his eyes, and Ray was shocked at the depths of pain there. His voice was a whisper when he responded. "No. Please, Ray. Tell him to go away."

Ray searched his face. "Renny, if you wanna be alone, or ya want us to be alone, you just gotta say-"

"Not him, Ray. I can't look at him. Please."

Fraser cleared his throat slightly. "I'll go," he said softly.

Ray glanced back at him and nodded mutely. When Fraser shut the door behind him, he turned back to his love. "Renny, why don't you want to see Fraser?"

Renny looked away from him silently.

"Does this got something to do with what happened to ya?" There was no response. "Renny, talk to me."

"I can't, Ray. Please, don't make me..."

Ray sat up abruptly. "I won't make you do anything. I want you to tell me about what happened, but I can wait til yer ready."

"Thank you," Renny said softly, grasping Ray's hand and holding it tightly, as though it was the only way to keep him there by his side.

Fraser sat stiffly, a glittering in his eyes the only clue that what he was hearing affected him at all.

Beside him, Lieutenant Welsh was eying the glass without Fraser's famed control. "God dammit, this is bull shit!" He turned away from the interview being conducted in the room in front of them, slamming a hand on the table in frustration.

Fraser winced slightly at the loud sound, but thanks to the glass seperating them, the men in the room weren't affected at all.

Welsh stood suddenly. "I'm going in there. I'm gonna give that jerkoff a piece of my-"

"Leftenant? I don't think that would be such a good idea."

Fraser's calm voice somehow managed to get through to Welsh, and he turned back to the Mountie. "Yeah? Why the hell not?"

Fraser returned his gaze head-on. "I believe what State's Attorney Kowalski and these other lawyers are protesting most about is the breach of acceptable protocal in this arrest. Interrupting a session like this could only be seen as another breach of the-"

"Yeah, fine. Alright." Welsh faced the glass, his hands clenched tightly.

Fraser turned back, and for a minute the two men were silent, listening to the lawyer double-talk.

Without turning back, Welsh spoke again finally. "How's your Constable doing?"

Fraser almost winced again. "Constable Turnbull is still in the hospital. They found some rather extensive internal...tearing."

Welsh didn't conceal the flinch those words caused. His eyes narrowed as he peered in at their perps, but he didn't fly off on another tangent. "Ray still with him?"

Fraser glanced over at the stern profile. He often wondered just how much Welsh knew, or had guessed, about Ray and Renfield's relationship. "Yes, sir. He was told he had enough off days coming to maintain his vigil."

"What? Oh, sure he does. I hate like hell that we have to take this outta his vacation time, but there's no way of getting around it. If Turnbull were related to him or something it would be easier."

Fraser nodded silently.

"Ah, hell. I wish they could just go on and get married. Ray would get off time for a spouse."

"Sir?"

Welsh glanced over, and gave a tight smile at the surprise on Fraser's face. "It's not like they haven't been obvious about it, Constable."

Fraser relaxed, studying Welsh's eyes and finding him free of judgement. "Yes, sir. I suppose Constable Turnbull does tend to wear his heart on his sleeve, so to speak."

"Yeah." Welsh's smile vanished. "I hate to think about what this did to him. Turnbull's not a bad guy. Kinda innocent. He shouldn't have got caught up in this."

Fraser opted not to respond, turning back and facing the men again.

Welsh sighed out loud, dropping himself back into a chair to watch some more. "Good thing Kowalski isn't here now."

"I believe you're right about that," Fraser was able to agree whole-heartedly. "Ray is concerned about Renfield's health. Eventually, of course, his health will improve, and Ray will turn his thoughts towards revenge. I just hope these men are behind bars when that happens." Fraser's eyes were locked on one of the men, the one identified as Jack Crawford.

Suddenly Crawford turned his eyes right at the glass, almost looking towards Fraser on the other side.

The extended look at Crawford's face suddenly jogged something in Fraser's memory. He sat up even straighter, his eyes burning holes through the glass. And a moment later he sucked in a breath, getting to his feet sharply.

Welsh caught the movement and looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

"I've seen that man before. Crawford. He...he came into the Consulate a few days before Turnbull disappeared. He asked a lot of questions, about Canada and myself."

Welsh was now facing him squarely. "Yeah? That could show premeditation. Anything in particular you remember?"

Fraser looked at Crawford through the glass. "He was very curious. He wanted to know everything about me. He even asked my name, which it may surprise you to hear that many visitors don't..." His babble trailed off, and his mouth snapped shut suddenly.

"Constable? Hey, Fraser, what is it? You remember something?"

Fraser shook his head slightly. "Nothing specific," he answered distractedly. "Only...Turnbull wasn't...Crawford sent two men I'd never seen before to..." He swallowed hard, getting a sudden, terrible suspicion about why Turnbull didn't want to see him.

Welsh watched in silence as Fraser headed for the door. He knew the Mountie well enough to know that questioning him would do no good. Fraser told people things when he thought they needed to know them.

Fraser opened the door, and turned one last look at Crawford in the next room.

Welsh saw the darkness in the Mountie's eyes and almost shivered himself. Whatever it was Fraser had suddenly thought up, it meant no good for those men. And probably, unfortunately, it had meant no good to Turnbull.

"Ray?"

Ray looked up at the whispered voice and smiled slightly. "Hey, Frase. it's okay, he's sleeping."

Fraser peeked his head in further, taking in the sandy head on the pillow. Renfield's coloring was improved, at least. He didn't dare come in further in case his fellow Mountie were to wake up. "Ray, I'd like to speak with you."

"Sure." Ray gave a fond glance to the sleeping form, then stood and stretched his cramped muscles as he headed for the door.

Once they were in the hall, Fraser allowed himself to speak in a normal tone of voice. "Has he mentioned to you why he didn't wish to see me?"

Ray frowned slightly. "Naw, he really didn't want to talk about it." He eyed Fraser. "You got an idea?"

"I think so. I remembered today that Crawford had come in to the Consulate a few days before Renfield disappeared. He talked to me for quite a few minutes, mostly about myself. He seemed unusually interested..." Fraser glanced in the open door at the resting body, his emotions plainly visible on his face. He didn't have to mask them, not for Ray. "I think Crawford intended to take me, but the men he sent took Turnbull by mistake."

Ray's eyes grew wide. "That's why he doesn't want to see you?"

Fraser nodded slightly. "I can only imagine how he must feel."

"Stupid."

The hoarse voice turned both their heads, and Ray quickly went back in to the room, going straight for his lover's side. "Renny, how you feeling?"

Blue eyes blinked up at him, then turned to Fraser, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. "As I said," he answered quietly. "Stupid."

Fraser took a step inside, hesitantly.

Turnbull didn't tell him to come or go, just lay there looking at him for a moment, before turning back to Ray.

"It's okay, Ren. I'm not going anywhere. You wanna talk, I'm here. If you don't, that's fine too."

Renny let out a slight breath. "I don't, Ray. I don't even want to think about it. But I should."

Ray leaned closer and gripped his hand in support.

"I remember," Renny started out slowly. "When that man...Jack..." He could hide a shudder. "Looked at me for the first time. He talked about me like I was...I don't know. He was disappointed." Renny's eyes fluttered over to Fraser. "That I wasn't you."

Fraser took another step in, hardly breathing.

"But they deduced that they couldn't exactly bring me back and take you, so he said I would have to do." Renny tried to smile, but failed. "I remember thinking that it was fitting I should be second to you, even in this." His voice broke, and he instantly looked away from both men, faint tremors wracking his body.

Fraser swallowed, his normally pale skin even more blanched than usual. "Renfield, I'm sorry."

Renny's eyes moved back to him suddenly. "I'm not," he said in reply, his voice getting quieter by the minute. "I'm glad it wasn't you, sir. You shouldn't have to-"

"Nobody should have to go through it, Renfield." Fraser arrived at the foot of his bed, his eyes blazing. "No one. Not me, and especially not you." He looked down for a moment, uncomfortable. "I have never been fair to you. Not since the first day I met you, and it was deplorable. It was unfair to you, and I'll never forgive myself for it. But I can try to do better in the future, if you will allow me."

Renny's eyes were shocked as he looked up at his superior. "I...sir, I..." He blinked heavy eyelids, trying to form the words.

Ray squeezed his hand. "It's okay, Renny. You guys have plenty of time to talk later. Why don't you just go back to sleep?"

Renny turned to him, and squeezed back slightly. "Ray?"

Ray leaned in closer. "What is it, Renny?"

He swallowed, his eyes shutting. "I love you, too," he said in a whisper.

Ray's expression didn't change, but his eyes glowed suddenly with a bright warmth. "Sleep well, Ren."

The tired man mumbled something so low neither of them caught it, and drifted into sleep again.

Ray released his hand gently and gazed down at him for a long time.

When he finally looked up at Fraser, keeping his voice low, he spoke. "Would ya mind staying with him for an hour or so?"

"Of course not. Where are you going?"

Ray's eyes went back to the sleeping face. "There's just something I've got to do," he said absently, reaching out and touching the sandy hair tenderly.

Fraser was curious, but he didn't question further. "I won't leave his side, Ray."

Ray stepped away from the bed finally, and turned a small, sincere smile to him. "Thanks, Ben. I'll be back soon." He turned and headed out the door.

And as he strode down the hall towards the exit, the peaceful, tender look on his face transformed slowly and steadily into an absolute mask of hatred.

Welsh was barely able to look at Stella Kowalski as she stepped out of the interview room with her lawyer crony at her side.

"Lieutenant." The blonde's eyes were actually somewhat sympathetic. "I know you probably hate me for defending him, but it's my job."

Welsh ground his teeth and met her eyes coldly.

She waited a moment, until it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything. Heaving a small sigh, she brushed past him and down the hall.

Ray Kowalski appeared at the edge of the corridor, and he brushed past his surprised ex-wife without even acknowledging her existence. "Lieut."

Welsh faced him with a mental groan. "Vecchio, you've got the day off, remember?"

Ray glanced back to ensure that Stella was out of sight, then faced Welsh, his eyes blazing. "Where's Crawford?"

"No. No way in hell, Ray. The DA's already trying to pin us for illegal search, assault, false arrest, everything else they can think of. I'm not going to let a witness be beaten in my own station, you hear me?"

Ray faced him steadily. "Sir, I don't want to touch him. I just want to talk."

Welsh glanced around quickly enough to ensure no one was listening in. "Kowalski, I know how you-"

"No, don't even say it. You don't have the faintest god damned idea how I feel. Let me in, Lieut. Five minutes. I won't lay a hand on the bastard."

Welsh studied him for a long moment. "Give me your gun."

Surprised, Ray took out his revolver quickly and handed it over.

Welsh took it and met his eyes seriously. "If you hurt him, Ray, you won't be getting this back."

Ray nodded stiffly.

"I know I'm gonna regret this," Welsh heaved out. "Five minutes."

Without another word, Ray turned and went into the interview room.

Welsh stood for a moment, tempted to go in to the next door and overlook everything. But he remembered the cold look in usually warm blue eyes and decided not to. If Ray wanted to risk his career over the next five minutes, Welsh could at least let him do whatever he had to.

Jack Crawford stood the moment Ray came in.

"Sit down."

Crawford frowned. "Aren't you taking me back-"

"Sit. Down." Ray stood and gazed at him until he returned to his seat stiffly. He looked over the man -- Crawford was older, mid-forties, maybe. He had brown hair and dark eyes that were almost black. He was heavy-set, and his face was lined more heavily than it should have been at his age.

He was repulsive. Ray couldn't hide his growing hatred as he studied him, knowing the man's heart was as black as his eyes.

Crawford looked back defiantly, but as Ray continued to stand and glare, not saying a word, his defiance shrank into nervousness. His eyes flitted to the closed door behind Ray, and his hard face softened a little. "What's going on here? Who are you?"

Ray stood for another minute, letting his anger build up, wanting to strike out against Crawford so badly he was almost tempted to give up the job.

"Look, I don't know who you-"

"Shut up!" Ray snapped, coming closer.

Crawford immediately tried to back up, shrinking against the chair.

"You listen to me, and you listen good. You picked the wrong man to kidnap, you son of a bitch. You hurt him bad, and there's nothing I can do about that. But I'm sure as hell not going to let you hurt him again. You're going to change your plea, you hear me? You tell Stella Kowalski that you're pleading guilty, and I'll let you live to serve jail time."

Defiance was struggling back up. "Oh yeah? Look, you-"

"It really isn't a good idea for you to talk right now." Ray's gaze, cold as steel, locked on to him, and Crawford's mouth clamped shut. "By some miracle you might be able to plead not guilty and escape jail. That's what you're hoping for, isn't it? But if they let you go, Crawford, then I'm coming after you. I swear I'll track you to the ends of the god damned earth and make you pay for what you did. I'll rip into you with my bare hands, and when I get done, there won't be enough left to bury." He took in Crawford's sudden paleness with no satisfaction. "But you may want to think about this -- if you plead not guilty and they throw the book at you, you're going to do the hardest time you ever dreamed of. I got a few connections in the prison systems, and I know a lot of guys sitting in cells far away from their wives and girlfriends who would love to do to someone like you what you did to my lover. They'll make what you did to him look like nothing, and you'll be trapped with them for years."

Crawford was clammy now.

"You plead guilty and you turn in every one of the shits that hurt him, and I won't do a thing. But if you don't, you'll suffer for it, I promise you that."

"I-I don't believe you."

Ray leaned in closely, his hands going to the table beside him, making good on his promise not to touch. "Take a good look at my eyes, asshole."

Crawford swallowed and met his eyes. A split second later he looked away, nodded almost frantically. "Alright, alright. You're right, we did take him, okay? But it was an accident. It wasn't supposed to be him."

Ray bristled. "It was supposed to be Fraser?"

"Fraser! Yeah, that's his name!"

"So instead of my lover, you were going to take my best friend."

Crawford flinched violently. "No! I mean...no."

Ray stood staring.

"Okay! I'll change my plea! Just get the hell out of here."

There was a wrapping on the door at that moment, and Ray straightened, not taking his eyes off Crawford.

Welsh came in a moment later, looking inside the room almost fearfully. He saw the two men and relaxed when he realized they both still had a pulse. "You done in here?"

"I think I want you to say that in front of a witness, Crawford." Ray didn't bother answering his boss.

Crawford's eyes swung towards Welsh, then back to Ray. He shivered as he inadvertantly met his eyes again. "I'm changing my plea. We did it, we took the Mountie. Okay?"

Welsh stood for a moment, surprised.

Ray took a step back, satisfied, and glanced over at Welsh. "Thank you, sir." He held out his hand silently.

Welsh almost grinned as he slapped the revolver into the palm of it's owner.

"Oh, shit! You're arming him? I changed my plea, dammit! Get this guy away from me!"

Ray returned Welsh's smile slightly, and headed past him out the door without another word.

At the hospital, Ray went in to the dim room to find two sleeping Mounties. He smiled faintly, betting from Fraser's position that he'd be stiff in the morning.

He moved to the other side of the bed, seating himself lightly on the very edge of the mattress, gazing down at Renny's face. No, Crawford changing his plea didn't begin to make up for what he'd been through. And Ray knew that there was going to be a long road ahead. He would have to start all over again, building up Renny's fragile self-worth from scratch. Hopefully it wasn't a lost cause. It wouldn't be, not if Ray had anything to say about it at all.

He glanced over at Fraser, and his smile returned as he saw his friend's hand resting on Renny's arm even in his sleep. He knew Fraser would be there to help them, all the way, and that knowledge gave him a lot more confidence in the outcome of this disaster.

Renny shifted slightly, his head moving around restlessly in his sleep, murmuring faint words of distress.

Ray immediately leaned in and lay a hand on his chest. "Shhh. It's okay, babe. I'm here."

He quieted instantly, falling deeper into sleep.

Ray swallowed. He had a lot of influence over Ren, he knew. He just hoped he wouldn't screw up doing what needed to be done to help him recover.

He remembered Renny's words that day as he'd talked about what happened, and he moved his hand up to brush against the sleeping face gently. "Renny," he started hesitantly, keeping his voice barely at a whisper. "I've been a screw-up all my life. I barely got outta high school, I blew a marriage, I'm living in some other guy's life. I'm not much. But, even though it may not mean a lot coming from a guy like me, I promise you one thing -- you'll never be second to anybody, not to me. You're my best, Ren."

He leaned over and kissed his lover gently on the mouth, then turned to pull up the plastic chair against the wall. Sitting down heavily, he rested his hand on Renny's other arm, hoping his presence would be enough to start chasing away some demons.

He fell asleep a few minutes later.

On Renny's other side, Benton Fraser cocked an eye open, took in his sleeping partner, and smiled.

The End