Title: Disarray

Pairing: BF/RK

Rating: PG13? - bad words, implied m/m relationship

Disclaimer: Not mine and I *am* bitter.

Spoilers: Lots for Good for the Soul

Notes/Summary: Good for the Soul raised all sorts of questions in my head. This is the result of trying to answer some of them. Many thanks to Kasha for wielding a very fine focus whip, to Megan for beating this into shape and also to Maxine for support at just the right time.

Any comments etc to necessary_angel@yahoo.com

Disarray

by

necessary angel

The light finally changed and Ray powered the GTO into the line of crawling traffic ahead. Just great, where did all these people come from just before Christmas, anyway? Were they cloned specially? Fuck! Ray resisted the temptation to lean on the horn and resigned himself to waiting until he could peel off and take a quieter route to the Consulate.

He'd finally managed to get free of the 2-7 and play a flying visit to his parents. Luckily, Mum had been too full of plans for Christmas with his brother to make him stay for dinner. He could catch a bite to eat with Ben, and work out the Warfield mess at the same time.

Well, maybe not the last one.

The Mountie was definitely flying free on this one. Not that that was entirely unexpected, not from Fraser, but even so this had to rate highest on the zealometer.

Things had been going well before Ben's hyper alert conscience had prodded him into action. Ben had been surprisingly relaxed even though he wasn't actually buying anything. The time away from the seasonal hassles had been what they needed, what Ben had needed.

The log thing...well, Ray suspected that was just Ben's way of upping the ante after the ray gun. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Then Warfield's raised voice had zapped Ben back into Mountie mode. Ray had watched it go from a bad mannered spat to Warfield throwing his weight around and smacking the poor kid. Fraser, of course, had found himself on the wrong side of yet another gun. This time in the middle of a fucking mall with only about a million people trying to get Christmas done.

Ray sighed and smacked the steering wheel.

Jesus Christ.

Just once he'd like his partner to.... Of course, Fraze had no idea *who* he was dealing with, and it would have made no difference in any case. And now they had a pissed off mob boss with the human equivalent of a wolf after doughnuts on his case.

Except there was nothing to work with, and maybe now Fraser would listen to a little reason.

The whole thing sucked.

Guys like Warfield made Ray want to really kick 'em in the head, but even he knew that didn't help. You had to work it until you got them wrapped up so tight that their high price lawyers couldn't cut them free.

The traffic lurched into life, and Ray took his chance to move out of the chaos and actually get somewhere near the Consulate.

At last he slid into his normal parking place and bounded up the steps and thumped on the door.

"Ah, Detective Vecchio. Please come in."

"Where's Fraze?"

"I had thought he was with you, Sir. He left about an hour ago, saying that he might back late."

"Did he...? Forget it. I know where he is."

"Can I be of any...." Turnbull's voice followed Ray as he sprinted for the car.

Of all the stupid fucking stunts to pull. Ray should have guessed Fraser would do this. After all, he'd tried at the Station House, before Welsh had stamped on it.

Fuck it.

Ray gunned the GTO and hoped that his partner hadn't managed to get into the club yet. He could still head this off at the pass.

************************************************************

It was very late when Fraser eventually returned to the Consulate. Frank would be safe with his sister, or as safe as he could be expected to be. He could understand Frank backing out; Frank was an elderly man, and Warfield was intimidating to say the very least. Still, though Fraser couldn't stop himself wishing that Frank would stay the course.

Ray had arrived in the nick of time earlier. Fraser was spoiled, unused to walking into things alone. His years in Chicago had made him soft, not as soft as Dief, but it was still damaging. He was handling this situation with all the finesse of ... perhaps that was just as well, Fraser doubted that Warfield would pay any more attention to finesse than Diefenbaker would.

Somehow, even though Ray had drawn the lines in bold colors for him after the first encounter with Warfield, he hadn't paid attention. It was foolish. Fraser had gotten very used to Ray following him into situations that his partner had doubts about. They sometimes argued and debated the points beforehand, and certainly afterwards, but Ray usually put aside his misgivings. This time he hadn't, and Fraser couldn't repress the ache that had given him.

But Ray had come to find him, and had backed him up loudly and insistently to Lieutenant Welsh and Ms. Kowalski. That had eased the ache somewhat, but had done little to actually forward the situation in the right direction.

Some paths were indeed solitary. His father had been right about that, despite the unsatisfactory nature of their latest encounter. Not that their encounters were ever anything other than frustrating and unsatisfactory.

"Ah Constable Fraser, I was beginning to become concerned." Turnbull rose from his seat behind the reception desk with little of his usual fumbling.

"No need for that. " Fraser cracked his neck. "Is all well?"

"No trouble at all. Tommy, a delightful young man by the way, is asleep in your office. And Detective Vecchio is waiting for you in the parlour."

"I see. Thank you, Turnbull. And you may go now, if you wish."

"Sir. I've a few matters to attend to here, and if I am not mistaken, you haven't eaten this evening."

"You needn't trouble..."

"Fraze!"

Ray's impatient voice dragged Fraser's attention to the parlour doorway where his partner leant against the doorway, frowning.

"Excuse me."

"Of course."

Fraser followed Ray into the parlour and shut the door. He leant back against the wood with a little sigh. It felt good to actually stop moving.

Ray was pacing and muttering to himself, and for once Fraser didn't make the effort to try and pick up what he was saying.

"It's going to do no good to yell at ya for going after Frank alone like that, is it?" Ray had finally stopped moving and was facing him.

Fraser shook his head and felt his mouth quirk in response to the rueful expression creasing his partner's face.

"Thick-headed Canadians."

A mutter Fraser was more than sure he was supposed to pick up on but chose instead to ignore.

Ray glared at him and raked a hand through his almost too long hair. It was taking him much more time than usual to spike his unruly hair to his satisfaction in the mornings. Fraser swallowed a smile at the memory of the curses that had erupted from the bathroom that morning. Of course, that was almost yesterday morning now.

"I tried again with Stel and Welsh after you left." Ray was now slumped to the best of his ability in one of the overstuffed armchairs. "But no dice. You really are on your own with this one."

"Thank you for that Ray but I realized as much." Fraser forced his shaky legs to move him to the armchair that faced Ray's seat.

"Is it worth it?" Ray was sitting up now, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Yes it is. To me."

Fraser watched his partner carefully. There was a note he hadn't heard before in Ray's voice amongst the frustration and worry.

"And nothing I say, or Welsh says is going to the blindest bit of difference is it?"

Fraser recognized a rhetorical question when he heard one, and this one he wasn't going to play with. That note was stronger now: not quite bitterness, not quite dislike, something else that Fraser was too tired to decipher. He swallowed the cold hard lump in his throat and tried to speak.

"Ray, I...."

"Save it Fraze, I get it."

The lump had moved to his stomach and swollen to fill all the available space. "Ray."

Ray's hand was in the stop position and Fraser swallowed the rest of his words.

"I do get it. You're working it, and all I can do is sit back and wait for the excrement to hit the air conditioning, right?"

Fraser nodded, not taking his eyes off the pale set face opposite him.

Ray sighed and shielded his eyes for a moment with a long fingered hand. "Okay, okay. Just be careful. I doubt that you are going to get anywhere with Warfield, but I know that won't cut it with you. So I guess I should just save my breath."

Ray sounded more normal now. Resigned, irritated certainly but a wry acceptance had crept into his expressive voice.

"Ray, I'm sorry."

"No you're not." Ray was smiling, his eyes glittering in the lamplight.

"Of course..."

Ray was on his feet. "No you're not." He leaned over Fraser, in manner that should have been threatening, but there was nothing but amusement and resignation in his eyes. "You just think you should be."

Fraser caught his arm as his partner tried to move away. Ray glanced at the hand curled around his arm but made no move towards him. He smiled, a stark bright smile that twisted heat around Fraser's spine.

"Uh, uh I think we both need a little space right now. If we got into it, I might just handcuff you to that really heavy bit of wood back there and leave you all naked and sweaty for the Ice Queen to find tomorrow."

"You wouldn't."

Fraser was not quite certain of that, despite all the confidence he pushed into his voice. And that uncertainty and that smile were stirring his body to life despite his exhaustion.

"Oh I would, and I've a real busy day tomorrow so getting hold of me would be..."

"In that case...."

"I'd better go."

Ray pulled free of his grasp and grabbed his overcoat from the stiff-backed settee.

Fraser watched him and returned the small grin Ray gave him as he sketched a wave in the doorway as he left.

The heavy cold feeling had spread all through him, and even Ray's resigned acceptance had done nothing to disperse it. Acceptance wasn't what he wanted at all, despite his knowledge that Ray was working within limitations that did not exist for him. No, acceptance didn't even come close to what he really wanted.

"Constable Fraser?" Turnbull's head was poking around the door.

"Yes Ren?" Fraser noted the quick smile that cracked the genial mask for a moment.

"There's soup in the kitchen, and I've recorded the curling match from earlier this evening."

"Lead me to it."

Fraser shed his tunic and smiled his thanks at his now out of uniform colleague. Food and time to relax without thinking about Warfield was just what he needed right now.

***************

"Christmas brings out the worst in people."

Fraser nodded; Ray was right. Christmas was a difficult time for him - he felt as alienated as he had when he had first arrived in Chicago. He had carved a life for himself here, not perhaps the one he might have chosen, but a good life nevertheless. Christmas made him think of home and how different things might be.

Ray gave Fraser one last, long look as he settled himself in his car. A brief lift of his hand and he was gone. It was quiet without Dief whining and whimpering next to him. Well, as quiet as you could expect a Chicago street to be during the day.

Fraser found himself whistling before he realised it, whistling the infectious, awful tune that Turnbull had been playing for days. He had woken with it running around his head this morning and it seemed he might be stuck with it for the day. It helped; it filled the sudden space around his body.

The last of the anger had faded very quickly from his partner's mercurial face, and it was a relief to reach their present state of stalemate, albeit an understanding one. Warfield's latest move in the game had accomplished that much at least.

Fraser shifted his weight slightly, easing the ache in his calf muscles with the adroitness of long practice. At least he was outside, in what passed for fresh air in Chicago, away from the hectic pre-Christmas schedule at the Consulate. He had spent very little time and almost none in daylight away from his official duties in the past week. However dull his present self-appointed task was, it was a welcome respite from what he had left behind on his desk.

He stopped whistling; he was beginning to irritate himself. Fraser sighed and surveyed the street.

All quiet.

Too quiet.

He would have expected Warfield to have made his next move by now. The man was not patient or reasonable. There was no reason to assume that he would have given up. The pressure on the police department had only been his opening gambit. What his next one would be was open to question, but Fraser had to assume that it would be more direct than using his influence to coerce him into abandoning his post.

Fraser had half expected his father to put in an appearance, but he had been remarkably elusive since the previous evening. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised by his father's vagaries after all this time, but it was disconcerting to be without his father's advice, however off the point it might prove to be.

Fraser started to move, pacing back and for in front of the entrance. It was a very long time since he had been on a stakeout completely by himself, and he seemed to have lost the knack for just sinking into the situation. He couldn't stop himself listening for Dief's breathing, or the soft creak of Ray's leather jacket and the odd little sighs he only ever seemed to make when they were on stakeouts. Fraser shook himself. He would have to make do, and he couldn't afford to let his concentration slip like this. He moved back into his previous position and let the slow rhythm of his breathing take over.

It was starting to get dark now, and Fraser could just catch the muffled sounds as the staff started work setting up the club for the night's business.

********************************

"Fraze. Jesus fucking Christ! What did those sons of bitches...? Fraze!"

Fraser opened his eyes at the sound of Ray's angry voice. "Ray. I ...ugh." His knees shook as he tried to push himself away from his slumped position against the wall.

"Ben, stay there. Just stay there." A leather clad hand rested lightly on his shoulder. "Take it easy. I'll call you an ambulance." The anger was threaded through with worry now.

"Not the hospital." Fraser gasped and tried to breathe through the sharp pain in his chest.

"You have to. They really messed you up. Listen to me! You need to see a doctor."

Ray's tone was as definite as Fraser had ever heard it, but he shook his head. He closed his eyes against the swirl at the edge of his vision and took a deep breath.

"No, it's just superficial, no hospitals, no doctors. "

He had to stop to breathe between each word, but his voice stayed steady. Another breath and he could pull himself in a swaying but upright position.

"Here, lean on me. That's it, buddy. Okay, let's get you to the 27th. That okay?" A soothing tone, but Fraser could still hear the anger underneath.

"Yes. I'm sorry Ray."

"About what? You're making no sense, Ben. They musta got your thick Canadian skull good."

Ray shifted his weight slightly and slipped his arm carefully around Fraser's back. He was muttering under his breath and Fraser could only catch the odd word "Jesus... suck...I shouldn't... Welsh's gotta let me.... Warfield...."

"Ray. None... of... us... expected this...."

"We should have done, Warfield's a fucked up son of a bitch." Ray shook his head. "C'mon let's get moving."

Fraser bit his lip as Ray started steering them towards the GTO. The stab of his teeth into the sensitive skin kept him alert enough to move, albeit slowly, towards the snow covered vehicle.

"That's it. Okay, sit down slowly. That's it."

Fraser leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He could let it go now.

"Hey none of that. You pass out on me and we go straight to the hospital. No passing go and no 200 bucks, you hear me?" Ray's hand tapped lightly against Fraser's cheek.

"Yes. Yes I hear you." Fraser pushed his eyelids open and looked straight into Ray's narrowed eyes. He blinked and the blackness retreated.

"Right. Good. Let's rock and roll. Keep talking to me. One of them everlasting stories of yours, whatever. You stop talking and we're changing destination."

"Understood." Fraser found a smile from somewhere.

***************************

"You okay?"

Ray sounded as tired as he himself felt. Fraser lifted his head from the back of the couch. The stiffness was beginning to set in, in earnest. He was going to be very sore tomorrow.

They had spent some time dealing with the results of the raid on Warfield's night-club. Ray had urged Fraser to go home, almost insisted on driving him home. It had taken repeated refusals on Fraser's part to make him drop the matter. He had needed to see this matter through to the end.

The bitter end.

Clichés exist for a reason....

"Ben, talk to me. You can't sleep there. You'll feel like hell tomorrow. You *will* anyway but even your cot would be better than ...c'mon, Ben!"

"I am... well, fine is definitely overstating the case."

"No kidding." Ray snorted and moved closer, perching on the arm of the couch.

Fraser glanced round the dim confines of Ray's apartment. It was good to be here. He hadn't even considered asking Ray to take him back to the Consulate. He wasn't working tomorrow. There was the added advantage that his father was unlikely to bother him here, and Dief would be well cared for by Turnbull. The wolf would undoubtedly make him pay, but Fraser was more than used to that.

"Ben?" Ray's voice was tentative and he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

Fraser felt the heavy stiffness move from his limbs into his stomach and throat. He swallowed and raised an eyebrow.

"I know this ain't a great time. You probably just wanna crash. I know I do. But I don't want this hanging over us. I learnt that much from the mess I made of things with Stella."

Ray was on his feet and pacing. Fraser bit his cheek to swallow his smile; even enervated and running on the last gasp of his energy reserves Ray couldn't stop moving.

"It's okay Ray." Fraser dug a knuckle into his eyebrow. "I've allowed pride and arrogance too free a rein these last few days."

"What?" Ray swung round and faced Fraser, disbelief vibrating off every tensed muscle.

"Lieutenant Welsh and you were right."

Fraser winced as he moved into a new position. His stomach had twisted into a hard, cold knot and his throat felt raw. The only part of him that didn't ache was his head, and that was probably due to slight sensation of light-headness he was experiencing.

Ray closed his mouth with a snap. Fraser watched anger, pain, and something else he couldn't find a label for in time shift across the angular face. Ray's chest lifted as he pulled in a deep breath.

"We weren't...!" He stopped and continued more quietly. "We were playing political games and you were...right. We shoulda backed you, and maybe you could sit without feeling every muscle in your body. "

"Ray!"

"I shouldn't have let you..."

"Ray!"

Fraser began to push himself to his feet. His movement caught his partner's attention, and he stepped forward, his brow creasing. Fraser sank back with a little grunt.

"I made my choices." Fraser's voice trailed off and he licked his lips. "In the end, what I did made very little difference."

Ray shook his head and resumed his seat on the arm of the couch. "Made all the difference in the world." His voice was quiet and thoughtful. Every bit of his attention was focused on Fraser.

"Warfield's a killer, and he's still a free man. I got a token apology. You know that, he knows that, Lieutenant Welsh knows that. Those words meant nothing in the real world." Fraser raised his hand and placed it on Ray's thigh.

Ray squeezed his hand and sighed. "So, why? Was it worth getting yourself beat six ways to Sunday?"

"Perhaps not." Fraser shifted again on the couch. Comfortable as Ray's furniture was, every muscle in his back was screaming. "I believed it was, though."

"You mean you knew Warfield was gonna beat the crap out of you?" Ray was glaring down at him.

"He made certain threats this morning. It was a possibility."

"And you...you...."

"Made my choice."

Ray stared down at him for a long moment. "I see. Partners share Fraze. We've...."

"You were working within certain restraints that didn't apply to me. My lack of jurisdiction here gives me certain privileges, as well the more obvious disadvantages."

"We're going in circles." Ray sighed ruefully. "You do it all again in a heartbeat, wouldn't you? I just wish...."

"I'm not sure so that I would." Fraser rubbed his eyebrow.

Ray blinked and his eyes narrowed. "Hmm."

"What does that mean?"

"You tell me."

Fraser raised an eyebrow.

Ray relented, his mouth twisted into a vague approximation of a smile. "You would do it again. You couldn't help yourself."

Fraser looked up at his partner, struck again by how quick to bones of the matter he was; his instincts ran true almost every time.

"Possibly."

"Possibly. Huh. Okay, let's get you in the shower before you set into the shape of my couch forever."

"Okay." Fraser accepted Ray's hand and allowed him to pull him to his feet. "One thing, would you change what you did?"

Ray winced, his eyes widening. "I shoulda...I shouldn't have, we're partners, I should have pushed it harder."

Fraser paused in his careful progress towards the bathroom. "You were doing what you believed was right. I couldn't ask you to go against that. No-one should."

"And next time?"

"The cards may fall differently."

**************************

"Warfield got his!"

Ray glanced across at his partner, who sitting in the passenger seat with something pretty close to his usual military precision.

"Didya hear me?"

Ray muttered curses at the snow, which had started coming down more heavily now that they had actually left the Station House, and had to be on the roads. Then he shot another sideways look at the silent figure next to him.

"Yes, I'm sorry Ray. I did hear you. I was distracted."

Fraser cracked his neck and turned his head to look at him. His face was solemn and set, as far as he could tell in the flickering pattern of the street lighting.

"So, you gotta be pleased. You did that. Did what we've been trying to do for years."

Ray pulled up at a convenient stop light and twisted in his seat so that he could look more directly at his partner.

"Ray, the stoplight."

"Never mind that. You took down Warfield, so what's the deal here?" Ray caught the light change and set the GTO carefully on its way.

"I didn't, as you say, take Warfield down. To be strictly accurate, his accomplices did that."

Fraser's voice was very steady and smooth, but Ray had the sudden sensation he was walking on black ice.

"Yeah, but you were like that butterfly...you know, causing a hurricane in Brazil or whatever."

Ray kept his voice as neutral as he could. Something was ticking over in his partner's mind, and pushing wouldn't help.

"That's not a bad analogy, Ray. I could have done a great deal more harm than I did by my actions."

"What the fuck...?" Ray took a deep breath and eased back on the gas pedal. Taking his anger out on the car was not a good option tonight.

"If I hadn't stepped in, it is entirely possible that Tommy would not have been struck by Warfield."

"Yes, and he'd still be king of the walk. You stepped in. You made the difference when the rest of us were sitting on our hands, pretending that the system and justice are the same thing."

They were at his building, it was Christmas Eve and he was fighting with his lover. No change there, well, except the lover, the building and his life.

"Ray, it turned out well, but I am not sure how much of that is down to me."

Fraser's voice was quiet, almost hesitant, and he was staring straight out at the falling snow.

"Yeah, well, we're back to that circle thing again, because I'm sure that you were the ...catalyst."

"Indeed." Fraser was looking at him now. "Ray, I..."

Ray shook his head; this was getting them nowhere. "It's Christmas Eve and I got movies and food. C'mon, let's go up."

End