m/m relationship assumed, no explicit sex, rated PG13

WARNING: IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THE NOTION OF TWO MEN IN A LOVING RELATIONSHIP THAT INCLUDES SEXUAL INTIMACY, DO NOT READ THIS.

All characters in this story are the properties of Alliance. This story is intended only for the private entertainment of fans, and may not be reproduced in any form except for this purpose. No profit is made or sought in the writing of this story, nor is it permitted to use this story for any profit-making purposes.

A heartfelt "Thank you kindly" to everybody who have made their stories available on the "net." They have been a source of great inspiration, and I've enjoyed reading them very, very much.

Note: The following story is an alternate version, so to speak, of the first season episode "Victoria's Secret." It is based on an assumption that Ray and Fraser have discovered a deep and committed love for each other prior to the arrival of Victoria in Chicago. It contains various references that might not be clear unless you have seen the original episode, as well as references to several other Due South episodes.

Fraser's recounting of his first meeting with Victoria during the snow storm is taken from the "confession" scene in "Victoria's Secret."

Taming Victoria

by Irene Pinsent

Fraser stood at the top of the stairs, staring into the crowd, seeking that face, that figure, he had glimpsed, not finding it.

"Benny? Benny, what is it? What did you see?"

Ray's voice sounded next to his ears. Without turning, Fraser knew that Ray was standing next to him, looking into his face, with a mixture of question and concern in an expression he had come to know so well...

"I thought I saw somebody... I must be mistaken." Fraser turned abruptly and headed for the exit, leaving Ray scrambling to keep up with him and not really caring.

Fraser sat quietly during the drive back to his apartment. Not a word out of him, even when Ray cut through several red lights and turned all the corners without indicating the turns. But it was not the quiet that disturbed Ray. It was the fact that Fraser wouldn't look at him, and the haunted expression on his face. Ray parked the car outside Fraser's building, and Fraser, seemingly oblivious to Ray, got out of the car, grabbed the vacuum cleaner, and walked into the building without turning to see if Ray followed. Ray frowned at his friend's back as he locked up the Riv, then followed Fraser up the stairs. They reached the third floor, and Fraser paused in front of Mr. Mustafi's door, knocking on it. Ray caught up to him at the same time the door opened, and stood by quietly while Fraser handed the vacuum cleaner back to Mr. Mustafi, with a polite thank-you and an even more polite explanation of why he had taken the liberty of having it repaired. Then Fraser turned away from his neighbor with a final polite greeting and strode down the hall to his own apartment, still without overtly acknowledging Ray's presence. Ray muttered his own hurried "good-day" to Mr. Mustafi and followed on Fraser's heels.

Once inside the apartment, Fraser went straight to the fridge, absentmindedly petting Dief's head as the wolf rubbed against his legs in greeting, and taking out a carton of milk, took a long swig. He did not turn to see if Ray walked in after him, the only evidence to suggest that he knew of Ray's presence that he did not bother to close the door behind himself. Ray was used to this, actually. The two of them spent so much time together that, by now, the presence of the other was like air -- no need to check if it was there, simply because it was inconceivable that it would not be there.

Fraser was staring out the window now, totally withdrawn into himself. Ray leaned against the door, observing him, wondering whether he should talk to him or leave him alone. Whomever it was that Fraser had thought he had seen, it had really shook him up. Figuring it wouldn't do any harm to let the man have some time alone to himself, Ray shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. Moving back into the kitchen, he put a kettle on the stove, took out the coffee drip, and proceeded to make coffee for himself and Fraser without bothering to ask Fraser whether he wanted any. At some point, Fraser's gaze left the window and followed Ray as he moved about the kitchen, but he still didn't say a word. Ray plied the milk from Fraser's unresisting fingers and poured it, knowing very well exactly how much milk Fraser liked in his coffee, then gently shoved Fraser aside to replace the carton into the fridge. Fraser accepted the mug that Ray handed to him, and moved obediently when Ray gestured to the table. They nursed their coffee in silence. Ray waited, knowing that Fraser will start talking when he was ready.

"I thought I saw her, Ray." Fraser finally said. His eyes stared into space, recalling a far-off time and place. His voice grazed over with the weight of memory and an unfilled longing.

"She and two men robbed a bank in Alaska. She drove the getaway car. One of them died, one of them fled south and she came across the border in a light airplane. It was forced down because of weather. The pilot abandoned her. I tracked her into a place called Fortitude Pass. A storm had been blowing for days and by the time I'd found her I'd lost everything. My pack. My supplies... She was huddled in a crag in the lee side of a mountain. Almost frozen. Very near death. So I staked a lean-to with my rifle and draped my coat around it. And I held onto her while the storm closed in around us. And I kept talking to her to keep her from slipping away. And it snowed for a day and a night and a day; and when I couldn't talk anymore I took her fingers and I put them in my mouth to keep them warm... I don't remember losing consciousness but I do remember being aware that I was dying... And then I heard her voice. She was reciting a poem. Over and over. And I couldn't make out the words but I couldn't stop listening. She had the most beautiful voice. It was as though I had known her forever. Across a thousand lifetimes... The storm finally broke and we were alive. After a day we found my pack. We ate everything, everything I had in one meal. And it took us four days to reach the nearest outpost. And we camped that night just outside the town within sight of the church's steeple. And I held her in my arms and she asked me to let her go. You see, no one knew that I had found her. The police didn't even know her name. I could just let her go. And she could walk away that night...""

"But you turned her in."

"It was my duty."

"And you regret it?"

"Yes, I do. I did everything I could... but a guard had been killed during the robbery. I convinced her to cooperate, but they never recovered the money, and she and her accomplice both denied they knew where the money was, and I couldn't convince anyone to believe her... In fact, I'm not quite sure myself whether she really didn't know where the money was. Anyway, she got 10 years, and she was quite upset at me for turning her in, I tried to write, but she would return my letters unopened..." Fraser's voice trailed off into a shrug.

"You loved her?"

"I'm never sure exactly what it was we felt toward each other. That I felt for her. Obviously we were thrown together in an extreme situation. We literally had to cling to each other to survive. But I'd never felt so close to another human being before. And in the end, I cared deeply about her. But nobody else did. To them she was just another criminal. When I turned her in, I thought I was doing my duty. After the way she got treated in the system, I'm not so sure that doing my duty was such a great thing after all, and I can't blame her for being so mad at me. She has every right to be."

"Do you still love her?"

That question caught Fraser off-balance. He cast a startled glance at Ray. "I love you, Ray," he said flatly.

Ray shrugged. "It's possible to love more than one person at a time. I mean, I love you, but I also love my Ma, Frannie, Maria, even Angie, my ex-wife, I still care for her. Then there's Suzanne Chapin..." Fraser grimaced at the mention of that name. He and Ray had never talked about that incident since they'd become lovers. He was not sure whether he wanted to talk about it now. But he had started this, and he knew if Ray wanted to talk about it, it was not fair to refuse. So he steeled himself and turned his attention to Ray.

"That just hit me on the head. It was like the moment I saw her, I knew she was right for me. I know you and everyone else thought I was crazy, but in my soul I knew it was right. And you know what? It was right. And in fact, if I were to meet her again, I would still have the greatest admiration and respect for her. In fact, if you were to ask me if I love her, I think I would have to say yes. But you know what Benny? That was like fireworks. That was an once-in-a-lifetime, big bang on the head. You, you are just there. You just walked into my life one day and turned it upside down, and I wasn't even aware of it. I mean, you have total control over me, you can talk me into doing anything you want me to, and I like it like that. All of a sudden I'm rearranging my life around you, and I don't mind. You, you own me. So you see, I still love Suzanne, and Angie, and a lot of other people, but that's not mutually exclusive, and you certainly don't have any competition."

Fraser had to laugh, despite the fact that he was not quite sure he agreed with everything Ray had thrown at him in that huge tirade. Most of what Ray said did not make much logical sense, but Fraser heard the love in Ray's voice, and he had come to trust that. In fact, he depended on Ray to keep him in touch with his emotions, to keep him centered, to help him deal with his feelings in the open instead of bottling them up like he used to.

"So," Ray said, his voice echoing Fraser's laughter, reflecting his love. "What's this woman's name?"

"Victoria."

"Here, write down the pertinent information. You said she got 10 years, right? When did this happen? Ok, so maybe she's out. Maybe you really did see her. We'll check up on it, then you can think about what you want to do. Must be something you can do to make it up to her, don't you think?"

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

"Now, I've got to go home and make sure my family gets packed properly for their trip tomorrow. Wouldn't want them to come back looking for something they forgot, now, would we? And I'll pick you up at the consulate tomorrow after your shift and we'll move the pool table. After that..." Ray let his voice drift suggestively. Fraser blushed. Ray leaned over to claim a quick kiss before walking briskly out of the apartment, turning briefly at the door to throw back a reassuring smile.

Slowly, Fraser got up out of the chair and started washing the mugs. He had to admit that he looked forward to staying over at Ray's house for a week, having the whole house for just Ray and himself. It had been a few weeks now since they had admitted to each other that their feelings for each other were something deeper than ordinary friendship. It still amazed him how the physical intimacy deepened the already strong bond that had formed between them, reflecting their emotional and spiritual ties through the searing layers of tactile sensations, until the connection they felt toward each other seemed to increase manifold, like endlessly repeating images in facing mirrors.

There was a limit to the number of times Ray could claim being on all-night stakeouts to excuse his not going home at night. Most of their time off they spent together, since nobody questioned Ray "being out with Benny," but he had to admit that he hated it when Ray had to leave to return to his family, like he had now. At their jobs, there was no need to lie, it was just a matter of being discreet. But despite his insistence that bending the truth was perfectly acceptable in order to further a goal, Ray was unhappy with the protracted lying he was doing to his family to cover his relationship with Fraser, and Fraser knew that. Hopefully this week together would give them a chance to talk over that problem.

Then there was Francesca. She was the only person they had told about their relationship. And she wasn't talking to either of them. Not because she didn't accept them. In fact, she had said once that she would be happy for them, if she could. But their coming together had shattered her dream of being with Fraser. She couldn't stand to see them, it just reminded her of her own unfulfilled dreams. There was nothing either of them could do about that, only hope that time will heal her pain.

Having finished washing the mugs, Fraser mulled over what he should do for dinner. Usually he ate dinner with Ray, but tonight he was alone. After a short reflection, he walked to a nearby diner. As he was about to push open the door, he noticed a cab pulling up across the street. A dark-haired woman stepped out of the cab, turned around, and their eyes met. Victoria...

They stared at each other for a long moment, then she was crossing the street, walking toward him. Fraser stood there, watching her coming toward him. "Hi," she said, coming to a stop a few feet away.

"Hi," said Fraser.

"You look good," said Victoria.

"You too."

"What are you doing in Chicago?"

"Oh, I work at the consulate."

"Aren't you with the R.C.M.P.?"

"Oh, I still am. I am their liaison officer at the consulate. Well, deputy liaison officer."

"Were you going in here?" Victoria gestured toward the diner.

"Yes, I was. I just came out to have dinner."

"Mind if I join you?" she smiled up at him.

"I will be honored." Fraser said, opening the door and gesturing for her to proceed him.

During the course of their dinner, Victoria told him she had been released from prison a few months ago, only to lose her sister in a car accident a few weeks later. She wanted to start over again somewhere else, but she was not sure where yet. Fraser told her about his father's death, and how he had come to Chicago to look for his father's murderers. As usual, he did not elaborate on the reasons why he remained in Chicago even after the case was solved. He told her about his duties at the consulate, about his friendship with Ray, and some of the cases they had solved together.

"Sounds like you have a pretty special relationship with this guy," said Victoria.

"Yes, I do." Fraser responded evenly, looking straight into her eyes.

Victoria slowly sipped her coffee. Fraser watched her dark hair falling on her shoulders. He remembered the feel of it against his hands, soft and silky and smooth. He took a deep breath, causing Victoria to look up at him quizzically across the coffee cup.

"You know, if there is anything I can do... I mean, I don't think I can ever make up for what I did back then, but if I can be of help to you in any way, I hope you will let me," said Fraser.

Victoria frowned at him, then slowly smiled. "You mean that, don't you."

"Yes, I do."

"You know, I thought you loved me."

Fraser shrugged. "I might have. I know I cared for you. I still do. I was attracted to you. I still am. Should that be called love? That..." he shrugged again.

Victoria looked at him hard, as if trying to size him up. "Are you in love with someone, now?" She finally asked.

"Yes," Fraser said, quietly. To tell the truth was dangerous, not for himself, but for Ray. Yet he owed her the truth.

Victoria blinked, shook her head. "Who is she?"

"I cannot tell."

Victoria's mouth fell open. "Why not? Are you telling me that, you, Benton Fraser, R.C.M.P, is having some sort of illicit love affair that you cannot tell other people about?"

Fraser decided to play along. "Something like that, yes."

"Why... why, I don't believe this." Victoria shook her head. "Didn't think you had it in you, Benton."

"Well," Fraser said, noncommittally.

Victoria stared at him as if he had grown another head. "You are not going to tell me who she is?"

Fraser shook his head slowly. "It's not my secret to reveal."

"You really love her."

Fraser nodded.

"Can I ask you a question? If she did something illegal. And not something minor, like a traffic violation. Something that will land her oh, I don't know, 10 years in prison. Would you turn her in?"

Fraser swallowed. "Well it's not likely that that will happen..."

"Oh come on, Benton. Just for argument's sake."

Fraser considered that. Ray did cut corners. That time they had confronted Gerrard and his men in his father's cabin, Ray had claimed that all the weapons he'd brought with him was legal, and he'd never bothered to check up on it. And there were various times in the course of their investigations when Ray had done things that were technically illegal, like break into buildings without warrants, intimidate witnesses, and such. He'd never reported Ray for those. When Ray had tried to let Suzanne Chapin leave, he was sure he wouldn't have reported Ray for that either. In fact, what would Ray have to do in order for Fraser to turn him in? Commit a crime out of sheer greed or malice. Do something that was never in his character to do. Fraser finally turned to Victoria.

"If... she..." he barely caught himself in time to stop himself from saying "he," "...were to commit a serious crime, I believe, yes, I will turn her in." And he left the rest of his thoughts unsaid. That Ray, his Ray, would never commit a crime out of greed or viciousness. That Ray was one of the most kindest, caring souls he knew. That Ray cared for him, he cared for other people. That Ray was willing to help him care for Victoria, even though she was a woman Fraser had loved in the past. Yes, in the past.

Victoria looked at Fraser, and saw the quiet determination in his eyes, the firm set of his mouth. Whoever this woman was, she had a firm hold on Fraser, she could tell. Well, maybe if she could find out who this woman was... After all, there was something not above board in their relationship.

"Actually," she said, "there is something I could use your help with."

Fraser nodded.

"I don't want to talk about it here."

"We could go to my place," Fraser said.

"Ok." Victoria agreed, and Fraser signaled to the waiter for the check.

They walked to Fraser's apartment in silence. Once inside, Victoria took in the sparsely furnished room with a critical eye. "Don't they pay you at the consulate?" she asked.

Fraser, chuckling lightly at her tone, replied, "I just buy what I need. Anything more I find extravagant. Would you like some tea?" he added, holding up the kettle.

"Thank you, that will be nice," said Victoria, as she settled down into the chair by the table. It was, Fraser couldn't help noticing, the same place Ray had been sitting earlier in the day.

"So how long do you plan to stay in Chicago?" Fraser asked, as he took out the mugs -- again, the same ones he and Ray had used earlier in the day -- and the tea bags.

"Well, that's what I wanted to ask your help with."

"Oh," said Fraser. He walked over to the table with the mugs of tea. Seating himself in the other chair, across from Victoria, he gestured for her to continue.

"Well," said Victoria, "You remember Jolly."

"Your accomplice."

"He's escaped from prison. He thinks I have the money from our bank robbery, and he's been following me. I saw him today near the hotel I was staying at. I'm scared. I don't know what he'll do."

"And you don't have the money?"

"Like I said back then, I never knew where he hid the money."

Fraser frowned. "You said back then that Jolly hid the money, and he didn't tell you where. If that's true, what would make Jolly think that you have the money?"

"Because Ed knew, and he thinks that Ed told me before he died," said Victoria, referring to the third member of her bank robbery team.

"Did he?"

"No, I have no idea where the money is."

"But if Jolly thinks you have it, then he doesn't have it, so where would it be?"

"Benton," Victoria was becoming irritated now, "Never mind where the money is. What I need is some help in getting Jolly off my back."

"Oh, right," said Fraser. "Let me think. He escaped from prison, did he? He got 20, or 25, I can't remember which?"

"25," said Victoria.

"Right. And escaping from prison will add more time to his sentence, so what we have to do is arrest him and send him back to prison, hopefully to a more secure location, and then you won't have to worry about him. I'll ask Ray tomorrow..."

"I don't want police involved."

"Why not?" Fraser focused his gaze on her.

"Well, I haven't had good experiences with them, if you remember."

"I'm one of them, if you remember, and you had a particularly bad experience with *me*. If you can stand asking me for help, then I would think you wouldn't mind getting help from the rest of the law-enforcement world. However, if you feel uneasy, I'll keep your involvement off the record. We could just say that we received an anonymous tip that an escaped convict is in Chicago. But in order to make sure that this is given priority, I need to tell Ray everything."

Victoria bit her lips. "How can I trust him?"

Fraser raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, do you trust me?"

Victoria laughed hollowly. "After the last time, why should I? But the fact of the matter is, I don't have anybody else to turn to."

Fraser reached out to clasp her hand. "Well, however much you trust me, you can trust Ray."

Victoria looked into his eyes. "Do you trust him?"

Fraser nodded solemnly. "Better than myself."

Victoria blinked. Something about that answer startled her. Despite her anger and resentment against Fraser for turning her in, she knew that Fraser was one of the most upright, honest, and trustworthy people around. It was precisely those qualities that had prevented him from letting her go. But from what Fraser had told her about this Chicago detective over dinner, it didn't sound like Ray was the conscientious, moralistic type. In fact, Fraser had mentioned that Ray had a penchant for ignoring traffic regulations. So why would Fraser consider him more trustworthy than himself? But Fraser being Fraser, he wouldn't say that unless he truly believed it. Yes, at the least, it would be intriguing to meet this detective. And she might be able to find out from him about this secret love of Fraser's.

"Ok," Victoria said.

Fraser smiled. "Fine. Now, you said you saw Jolly today, near your hotel? Exactly how close?"

Half an hour later, Fraser had prodded all the information he could out of Victoria. He was certain that Jolly knew where Victoria had been staying. There was a possibility that Jolly had followed Victoria to the diner where they had met, so it was also possible that he had followed them here. He ran through several alternatives in his head. Victoria could stay here tonight. He could take a day off tomorrow. The problem was where to leave Victoria while he went to the precinct to talk to Ray. Actually, this was not something he wanted to talk about in front of other people, and the closet, useful as it was, would be inadequate for what would surely turn into a lengthy discussion.

"I have to call Ray," he said out loud.

Victoria frowned. "Now?"

"Yes, now." He quickly explained his plans to her.

"Well, can't you wait until tomorrow?"

"Usually, I could just wait for him to come pick me up in the morning, but tomorrow he's not coming by because he has something else to do, so he was supposed to pick me up after work. I have to call him anyway to let him know about the change in my plans. Don't worry, I have no intention of telling him about you over the phone. I'll just say something has come up and ask him to drop by when he has time."

Victoria couldn't argue with that. Fraser told her to stay in the room, told Diefenbaker to not let anybody in, then walked down the hall to Mr. Mustafi's room to call Ray.

Ray was mystified by the call, but he was also distracted by his family, who could be heard yelling and moving chaotically in the background. "All right, I'll come over tomorrow as early as I can mange," Ray said, then hang up without responding to Fraser's "Thank you kindly." Fraser smiled at the phone, imagining the turmoil in the Vecchio household, then thanked Mr. Mustafi kindly before heading back to his room.

The night passed quietly. Fraser gave Victoria the bed and slept on his bedroll, and the two found themselves enjoying each other's company, much as they had back in those days at Fortitude Pass. Her voice is as beautiful as I remember it, Fraser thought, and her eyes are just as dark and intriguing. He closed his eyes, and heard another voice, saw another pair of eyes, felt a strong pair of arms holding him, a long and lean torso pressing against his, drawing him along in an insistent rhythm. He sighed contentedly.

Victoria frowned at Fraser. Something did not fit. If Fraser was having an illicit affair -- and he had not denied it, in fact he had admitted that it was a secret -- could he really stay so equanimious, calm, and content as he seemed? She knew that having to chose between her and his duty had torn him apart. If he was having an affair that transgressed social mores, wouldn't that affect him somehow? Yet the few times their conversation had strayed close to the topic, though he had gently steered it away from becoming too particular, he showed no hint of agitation or even nervousness. I'll get to the bottom of this, she thought, as she drifted into sleep.

In the morning, Fraser decided that a little walk around the neighborhood was not unwarranted, so long as he stayed together with Victoria, and might even give them a chance to find out if they were being followed. So they took Dief for a walk and bought some food for breakfast.

Fraser noticed the green Riv drive past without stopping. Somehow, he managed to keep moving and talking without losing a beat. Ray probably had a good reason for doing that, he thought. Fleetingly he wondered whether Ray could have misunderstood and become jealous, but that, he decided, was totally unlike Ray. Mercurial as Ray's moods were, he hardly jumped to conclusions, and he was always open-minded when listening to explanations, even though he feigned impatience. That, after all, was why they worked so well together. So Fraser just kept walking, confident that he'll hear an explanation in time.

About half-hour later, Mr. Mustafi knocked on the door saying there was a phone call. Telling Victoria and Dief to stay put, Fraser went to answer it.

"Who's that you got with you?" Ray began without preamble.

"Victoria."

There was a long pause. "Ok. We got a problem. I need to talk to you without her. Can you arrange that?"

"Um, that might be difficult. I promised her I won't leave her alone."

"Humph." Ray mulled that over for a few seconds. "Ok, I'm coming over. Don't let on anything is wrong, ok? I get there, just tell me whatever you were planning to tell me in the first place."

"Understood."

Fraser stared at the phone, wondering what Ray had found. He hung up and walked back to the apartment. Victoria looked up. "What was it?" she asked.

"The consulate. They couldn't find a file."

"Didn't you call in sick?"

"I did, but I'm the only one who knows where it is." Fraser shrugged. "Office work. You know how it is."

"If only I could have stuck to office work."

"If only." Fraser walked to the window and looked out. If Victoria hadn't robbed that bank, they probably would never have met. If Gerrard hadn't murdered his father, he and Ray would never have met. He couldn't regret meeting Victoria, despite the pain he felt over the way that had turned out. And the possibility of never having met Ray put an absolute terror in his heart. Of course he wasn't happy about the way his father had died. The injustice of it all still caused his heart to boil in anger. Yet to never meet Ray, to never know the joy Ray brought to his life... He would never deliberately agree to such an exchange, of course. But if his father's death was the price he had to pay for Ray, it made Ray just that much more precious.

"Benton?" Victoria was looking at him quizzically. "What are you thinking?"

Fraser shook himself. "Ah... Sorry. Just that, how life is so uncertain, you know, how things can take such unexpected turns, and..." He shrugged. "Why you and I are here. Why anybody is where they are."

"You mean, like, fate?"

Fraser smiled, "Oh, I don't know if I believe in fate. The Inuits..."

So Fraser was still rumbling on about the concept of fate in various cultures when Ray knocked on the door. He sauntered into the apartment, fixed his eyes on Victoria, and said, "So, you are Victoria."

"And you are Ray," said Victoria.

Ray turned his gaze on Fraser. "So, what's up?" he said.

"Have a seat, Ray," Fraser gestured to a chair. Victoria took the other chair, and Fraser sat on the bed. Quickly, he outlined the situation.

"So, we need to find and arrest this Jolly, and to figure out a way to keep Victoria safe until we do," said Ray.

"Yes, Ray."

"Best way to do that will be to place her in protective custody."

Victoria flinched at that, and Fraser hurriedly said, "But I told you she's reluctant to get officially involved with the police."

"Why not?" said Ray, and there was something steely in his tone. He turned to address Victoria. "You were released after serving your full term, right? You are not wanted for anything, are you? Then why wouldn't you want official protection?" He paused. "Unless you are involved in some sort of criminal activity again?"

"Ray!" Fraser sprang off the bed.

"I'm not saying I won't help, Fraser, but I need all the cards on the table. First off, I want to know why she's dead."

"What?"

Ray pulled a sheet of paper out of his breast pocket. "Here, read this," he said, handing it to Fraser.

Fraser scanned it. His eyes fixed on the last lines. Died in a car accident. Date a few weeks after release from prison. Slowly, he looked up at Victoria. "You identified your sister's body as yourself," he said.

"Is that how she did it," said Ray.

"Please." Victoria looked at the two men with imploring eyes. "I was scared of Jolly. My sister was driving my car when she had that accident. The police just assumed that it was me. The face was badly damaged. We looked rather like each other anyway. I thought it will get Jolly off my back, but he wasn't fooled."

Ray shook his head. "Misidentifying a body and impersonating another person are still crimes," he began.

"Well, Ray, perhaps, under the circumstances..." Fraser started.

Ray looked at him wide-eyed. "What, are you trying to suggest that we overlook an infraction? Well, I'll be. You are the one who cannot let a jaywalker pass by without lecturing him on traffic safety."

Fraser crouched down in front of Ray. "Please, Ray," he whispered, "just this once."

Ray sighed. "Ok, here's what we do. Call a cab. You two get in it and go to the zoo. Get off at the main entrance and walk to the back entrance. I'll be waiting for you across the street. Assuming that Jolly is trailing you, walking through the zoo ought to force him to abandon his car, and there's hardly any cabs on the street by the back entrance, so he won't be able to follow us. Any questions?"

The maneuver was completed without incident, and Ray drove the three of them and Dief, whom he had brought with him, to his house. He showed Victoria to Francesca's room, then sat Fraser down in the living room, where the two could keep an eye on the front door and the stairway.

"I told her I'll help her, Ray," Fraser said. "And that you'll help her too, if I asked you."

"But you didn't know then that she was impersonating her dead sister."

"How did you find that out, by the way?"

Ray shrugged. "Yesterday after I left your place, I called Elaine and asked her to look up Victoria. When you called me last night, I thought maybe you did run into her. This morning, I drove by your neighborhood on my way in and I saw you with her, but I figured I oughtta go by the precinct first and find out what Elaine found on her before talking to you. So I walk in, and Elaine gave me that sheet."

Fraser's lips curled into a reluctant smile. "You are always so prompt about responding to my requests," he said.

Ray shrugged again. "By the way, Jolly is in custody, you know," he said.

"What?"

"Shh. Keep your voice down. I watched you and Victoria get into the cab, and sure enough, a guy matching Jolly's description walked out of a building across from your apartment, got into a car, and drove off after you guys. I called the precinct with a description of the car, I even had the license number, and told them to wait at the zoo. He was arrested at the entrance."

"We didn't notice anything," Fraser said, nonplussed.

"I told them to keep it as quiet as possible." Ray grinned at Fraser's discomfiture. "So the only question here is what to do with her." He pointed a finger up towards Francesca's room.

Fraser was silent.

Ray got up and started walking towards the kitchen. "Well, you think about it. I'm fixing something to eat, want something?" Fraser shook his head. "Alright then," said Ray, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Fraser sat still, trying to focus his thoughts. Victoria's sister, from what Victoria had told him, had no criminal record. If he let Victoria go live her life as her sister, she would truly be able to start over again, with a clean slate, except for the ten years she'd lost in prison. As Ray said, impersonating a dead person was a serious infraction of the law. Yet, perhaps this was his chance to make up for turning her in the last time. But two wrongs do not make a right, he thought. And there was the matter of the missing money. Did she really not know where it was? Did he dare believe her? Did he dare not?

He was aware of Victoria leaving Francesca's room, coming down the stairs, and sitting next to him on the couch. In a soft voice, she started begging him to understand, to please let her go, give her this chance, didn't he owe her this? He heard the voice. It was the same voice that had recited a poem to him, over and over, while the two of them lay huddled in a snow storm so long ago. It was that same beautiful voice, the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard...

His eyes drifted to the kitchen door. To Ray, who stood there, watching them. He met Ray's eyes. Ray's soft hazel eyes looked steadily into his. "Your call, Benny," he said.

The voice was like a spring of calmness that welled into Fraser's agitated mind, clearing it of all the muddled emotions and confused thoughts. He took a deep breath. "Victoria Metcalf, you are under arrest..."

"No!" screamed Victoria, jumping to her feet. "You are not doing this to me, not again! You promised!"

Fraser looked up at her calmly. "You have broken the law. More to the point, you have used a tragic incident, the death of your sister, to further your own self-interest, no matter how justified you were in your fear of Jolly. I can't condone that. I can't let it slip by. Now, I will help you with your defense, if you'll let me. We can claim extreme emotional aggravation. It might be possible for you to get away with no jail time, even. But..."

"No, you'll let me go. If you don't, I'll tell everybody that you two fucking faggots are fucking each other!"

Fraser froze. He felt as if a bucket of ice had been poured over his head. Ray let out a strangled laugh. "Where did you get such an idea?" he demanded.

"I found a note at Benton's place this morning," Victoria said. She pulled a piece of paper out of a skirt pocket, and read:

I'm going home, luv. Didn't want to wake you, don't worry, I'll meet you at the consulate after work and until then I'll be thinking of you all day long. Love and kisses, Ray

She stuffed the paper back into her pocket. Fraser groaned. Ray had left that note several days ago, and he had stuck it between the pages of one of his father's journals. Across the room, Ray's face hardened in barely controlled fury. He took several steps forward into the middle of the room.

"So," Ray said, his voice at its iciest, "You think you can threaten me with that? Well, congratulations. You just added blackmail to the list of your charges."

"Ray." Fraser said quietly.

"No, Benny," said Ray, "I'm taking this bitch into the station first, and *then* we can talk about this."

"But Ray."

"No buts. And don't tell me you changed your mind, either. Until now, I was willing to let her go, if you wanted to, for your sake. But using *that* to coerce us into letting her go? Forget it. I'm taking her in, even if you beg me not to."

With that he reached out to grab Victoria. Victoria let out a frustrated yelp and twisted away, reaching into her pocket...

Startled, Fraser sprung into action, hurling himself straight against her, and sending the gun spinning harmlessly across the room. It didn't take much effort to stay on top of her until Ray had the handcuffs securely on her wrists. Ray helped Fraser up, then hauled Victoria up, saying, "Well, well, add attempted assault and illegal possession of firearms... Benny, get that gun."

Fraser picked it up, and shook his head. "It's one of mine. She must have gotten into my trunk."

Ray clucked his tongue. He frisked Victoria, fishing a penknife, a few keys, and the note out of her pockets. "Here, take this," he said, handing the note to Fraser, "and get a plastic bag from the kitchen and put everything else in it."

Victoria glared at Ray. "But Benton said it was a secret."

"He did, did he? And *whose* secret did he say it was?"

Victoria frowned. "I think...he said...yours?"

"Right. So I'm saying you are not threatening me with it, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Fraser had found a plastic bag and was collecting the keys. "These look like locker keys, Ray. The kind they have at train stations and the like."

"Good. Maybe we can finally recover that money from that bank job."

Fraser stared at the keys doubtfully.

"Well, I'm taking her in. You stay here." Fraser opened his mouth, but Ray didn't let him get a word out. "No, I'm not changing my mind. She can talk all she wants. And leave that gun, it'll just complicate things. Just give me the keys. Dief, you watch him and don't let him go anywhere, you hear me? No you can't. How stupid of me. No, Benny, you let me handle this and keep your butt out." Ray pulled Fraser close and kissed him, slowly and deliberately, on the mouth. "Trust me," he said.

Fraser looked into Ray's eyes, and slowly nodded. Ray turned away and walked out of the house, pushing the sulking Victoria in front of him.

It was dark by the time Ray returned, but not a light was on in the house. He found Fraser sitting on the couch, curled up in a near-fetal position. Ray kicked off his shoes and sat next to Fraser, gently reaching out to stroke his hair, then his cheeks. A gentle push on his knees got Fraser to uncurl enough so that Ray could draw him into his arms and pull his head down to rest on his shoulder. For a while, they sat together quietly in the dark.

"I guess the consulate reached you?" Ray finally said.

Fraser nodded.

"I'm sorry. I liked that cabin."

"You hated it."

"I hated that it had no bathroom, and we had to use that stupid outhouse. Oh, and it was freezing cold, and your dogs would start howling at night exactly as I was about to fall asleep."

Fraser chuckled.

"We found the money, you know," said Ray. "$10,000 at your father's cabin, $50,000 in the station lockers."

"That still leaves most of the money unaccounted for."

"Well, she's not talking."

"Not at all?"

"Nada, zippo, not a squeak."

Fraser sighed. "I loved her, you know."

"I know."

"She saved my life, you know. I mean, I know it would seem that if it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't have been caught out in the blizzard in the first place, but that was my job. To look for people who get lost, criminal or not. And if it had been anybody else I was stranded with in that snow storm, and given that was my job, such a situation could very well have happened, I wouldn't have survived. She's very determined. Very intelligent. Perceptive, too. Those days after the storm broke when we were making our way back to the outpost, talking with her about anything and everything... She has a wicked sense of humor, Ray. I never felt so close to anybody before..." Fraser sighed. "If I hadn't turned her in, maybe she wouldn't have come to hate me. Maybe she could have been that person I got to know at Fortitude Pass..."

"Well, I don't know anything about that," said Ray. "But there's another possible scenario that comes to my mind. Say, you let her go. She walks off. A couple of weeks or months later, she walks back and threatens to tell your superiors you let a known felon walk away unless you..." Ray looked calmly into Fraser's startled face. "It's perfectly possible, you know, don't tell me it isn't," Ray continued, "and then where will you be? Plus, even if she walked away from you then and never came back, how could such a thing not affect you, change you, eat at you, make you a different, maybe more cynical, more bitter, less... I don't know, just a lesser person than you are now? Face it, Benny, however way you turn it, you and Victoria were never meant to be. Those days you shared with her out there, that was something wonderful, right? Take that and let the rest be."

Fraser listened blankly to Ray. He was right of course. But he was still gripped by pain for the possibility that had been in Victoria, that possibility that had been extinguished the moment Victoria had gotten into that get-away car, before he ever met her. And the lingering heartache would never go away completely, he knew. Idly, he reached for Ray's hand, loosely cradling it in his own.

"What about us, Ray?" he asked, "Were we meant to be?"

Ray shifted their hands so his hands now cradled Fraser's. "What do you think?"

"I feel absolutely terrified everytime I think that I might not have met you."

Ray's hands tightened over Fraser's. "Yeah, it's terrifying, isn't it," he said.

"Not that I'm glad my father's dead."

"'course not."

"But it had to happen or I wouldn't have met you."

Ray just tightened his arms around Fraser.

"You know, Ray," Fraser said, "Victoria asked me if I will turn you in if you committed a serious crime. And of course my first thought was you would never do such a thing. But then, I thought, I don't want to live without you. Victoria was those few days. Much as I wanted her, when it came to choosing between her and my duty, I chose her. But when I think of you, duty doesn't even matter. Not a bit. It's not even an issue." Fraser closed his eyes, blinking back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. "I never thought I could love somebody so much."

Ray planted soft kisses along Fraser's cheek. "I would never intentionally stand between you and your duty, Benny," he said. "You know that. I never meant to keep us a secret, either. You know. I just needed some time to get used to the idea of our being together. Oh, god, Benny, sometimes I still cannot believe you are here, with me." With that, Ray leaned in and claimed Fraser's lips for a long and thorough kiss.

Fraser let a finger trail along Ray's jawline. "There are going to be a lot of people who wouldn't approve, Ray."

"Yes, and fuck them," said Ray, "I know a good thing when I see one. I'm not sure what I did right or wrong to snag it for myself, but now I have it, I'm not letting any assholes get in my way of enjoying you."

"You might have a hard time on the job if people found out about us."

"I don't care if people find out at the job. Sure, there's prejudice against gay cops, but the official policy is you can't discriminate against gays, and there are cops and even a few detectives who are openly gay, and they are managing. Even if for some reason it becomes untenable for me to stay on the force, what the heck, it's only a job. I've come close to losing the job for much stupider reasons than this. Didn't you say something once about how losing a job is devastating but if you lose yourself you have nothing?"

Fraser smiled. "We were looking for Ty."

"Yeah, Ty. And Walter. Walter's doing well, by the way. He's the superintendent now at St. Michaels, you know."

"Really, that's nice."

"Anyway," Ray turned himself back to the topic at hand, "If I lost you, that would be losing a big chunk of myself, and no job is worth that. My problem really is, how to tell my family."

"Well, what about your family, Ray."

Ray sighed. "Thing is, I've never been big on discussing sex with members of my family. I've known Tony to crack a few colored jokes, and some about gays, but Tony's the least of my concerns. Maria actually has a few friends who are lesbians. I think she might be open to the idea of us being together. Frannie... Well, we both know how she feels. As for Ma, I just have no idea, you know. I mean, I've never heard her talk about it, one way or the other. Now, that's a weird idea, you know, here's an issue, a real important issue, and you have no idea what your mother might think of it."

"Not so strange, Ray. I have no idea what *my* grandmother might have thought about this, if she were still alive."

"Well, she was your grandmother."

"But she raised me, like your mother raised you. And she had such a definite opinion on everything. The best way to sew on a button. How many cups of milk one should drink a day in order to keep oneself in optimal health. How many condoms a young man should keep in his wallet and how often to change them."

Ray looked at Fraser. "You are pulling my leg."

Fraser shook his head. "No, she told me, in no uncertain terms, always keep three, and replace them every..." his voice trailed off. "I always assumed she meant that for if and when I met a woman... although the few times I actually made use of them, it was with men... I wonder, did she know?"

Ray chuckled. "You going to tell me about them sometime?"

"Well, there was Eric, Steve, and then... Steve. But, we were talking about your family."

"Right. Point is, I don't want you to cover for us. If anyone, at work or in my family, asks you whether you are in a relationship, just tell them about us."

"You're sure."

"Well, I figure if they know enough to ask, they probably suspect it halfway, anyway."

"You're probably right."

"The real question is, should we sit my family down, either individually or all at once, and tell them about us, or should we just quietly drop hints, and hope they catch on?"

Fraser cocked his head, thinking. "We could just kiss in front of everybody," he said.

Ray giggled as he imagined the kind of scene that would create. Pushing himself off the couch, he said, "Enough talk. Let's move the pool table."

"Ray?" Fraser said, as he followed Ray down to the basement. "Does dropping hints go for the people at work, too?"

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

Welsh leaned against the doorway and glanced at Vecchio and the Mountie. There were five of them, so instead of splitting into teams, they were playing each for himself; whoever sank the most balls will win, regardless of color or order. The cramped space in the dining hall made anything requiring more finesse quite impractical.

As it was, the Mountie was the only one who had managed to drop a ball so far. Welsh shook his head as it filled with the memory of that crazy shot, which had involved a succession of three balls bumping into each other before a fourth ball rolled into a pocket. When the other four had stared at him in amazement and disbelief, the Mountie had beamed an angelic smile and said, "Well, it's perfectly logical." He had then walked out into the living room, ostensibly to give the others more room, and to help himself to a bite from the deli platter. Vecchio had followed, and the two of them were now standing by the table, talking quietly.

Welsh took in the tableau. They looked so relaxed, so intimate, together, here in their private space, away from the hustle and bustle of the precinct station. The Mountie said something that made Vecchio laugh, and Vecchio gave the Mountie a friendly shove in the shoulder, but the hand lingered, turning the shove into a half-caress. Welsh swallowed and looked away. In the dining room, Guardino rolled his eyes up at the ceiling after taking yet another totally ineffectual shot, and Huey studied the table trying to figure out if there was any move worth making.

Welsh risked another glance at the two in the living room. Vecchio had taken his hands off the Mountie, but now the two of them were standing side by side, their arms practically touching, and Vecchio was leaning into the Mountie as he said something that made the latter's face twitch in amusement.

Welsh sighed. Whatever was going on between them it seemed that they were making very little effort to conceal it. It hadn't taken him long after he walked in here before he realized that the Mountie was not staying in the guest bedroom. In fact, all of his stuff appeared to be in Vecchio's bedroom, which implied, of course, that that was where he was sleeping... And when, anyway, did a grown man invite a friend over to stay at his home while his family was away?

Huey took his shot, which turned out as ineffectual as Guardino's. He muttered a curse under his breath, then raised his voice toward the living room. "Yo, Ray! Your turn!"

"Coming right up!" Ray yelled back, giving a parting pat to Fraser's arm before turning and walking into the dining room. Welsh shifted a little to let him pass, and found himself looking into the quiet eyes of Fraser, who had followed Ray halfway back toward the dining room. For one long second, his gaze stayed on Welsh, calm, seemingly open, inquisitive. Welsh returned an equally level gaze. Fraser cocked his head a little. "Something I can get you, Leftenant?" he said, gesturing towards the table.

"No thanks, Constable. Think I'll just go over and get some myself," said Welsh, pushing himself out of the doorway.

Behind them, Ray, who had been circling the pool table with short, clipped steps, yelled out, "Yo, Benny! Got any ideas?"

As Welsh made his way toward the buffet, he heard Huey yelling, "Hey, no fair, you aren't allowed to use the Mountie."

He grimaced when he heard Ray retort, "Hey, he's my Mountie, and I'll use him any way I want to."

"Ray, Ray, Ray..." Fraser was saying.

Welsh turned back. "Vecchio, a word with you."

"It's my turn," protested Ray.

"Well, seeing that Constable Fraser here is 'your Mountie,' he is perfectly capable of taking your shot for you, isn't he," Welsh said, pushing Fraser forward toward the pool table. "Come along, Detective," Welsh walked out of the room, gesturing Ray to follow him.

Huey and Guardino looked at each other, then at Fraser. "What's that about?" said Huey.

Fraser shrugged and turned his eyes to study the pool table. "It seems that Lt. Welsh is upset with Ray's comment," he said.

"What, that 'my Mountie' bit?" Guardino asked, gesticulating wildly with his hands. "What's to complain? Everybody knows you are his Mountie."

Fraser shot a quizzical look toward Guardino. Huey chewed his lips as he looked from one to the other. Guardino raised his hands in exasperation. "What," he said.

"Nothing," shrugged Huey. Fraser turned back to the table, lined up a shot, and carefully hit the ball. This time it was a straightforward one, and a ball toppled into another corner pocket.

Fraser raised a nonchalant gaze at the two men looking at him sullenly. "I assure you, given Ray's expertise in pool, that that's the shot he would have taken, and he would have made it."

Guardino rolled his eyes. "Right you are," he said. "You two are so damn close. Might as well be married to each other." He paused, noting the thick silence that had fallen over the room. "What?!" he sputtered.

Huey looked carefully over at Fraser. "You are not um..." he gestured at the air, "are you?"

Fraser stood still, leaning on his pool stick. He considered the pool table, his eyes glancing calculatingly over the balls. "Well... We've been thinking about moving in together," he allowed.

Guardino jerked around. He stared at Fraser as if he were seeing him for the first time. "You... no, you couldn't... if... how... Ohmigod!" Guardino exploded, striding agitatedly back and forth in the cramped space between the pool table and the China cabinet. He pulled at his hair in frustration. "This isn't real, is it? You are pulling my leg, right? Tell me you are pulling my leg!"

Fraser looked so innocent and sincere as he said, "But Louis, how can I possibly reach your leg from here?" that Huey broke down into hysterical laughter.

Upstairs, Welsh closed the door to Ray's bedroom. Glancing around the room, he noted the Mountie's dress uniform boots in a corner, the Stetson on the dresser, his leather jacket on the back of a chair... He sighed. He glanced at the bed, which was at the moment impeccably made, and briefly reflected that he should have picked another place for this chat. Gathering his resolve, he turned towards Ray.

"Vecchio," Welsh began, "What you do with your private life is none of my business, and if I may say so, I am fond of the Mountie, and I wish nothing but well for the both of you."

Ray's eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you, sir," he said simply.

Welsh nodded. "But what affects the force is my business, so I have to ask... How open do you plan to be about this?"

"We don't intent to hide, sir, if that's what you are asking."

"I thought not," said Welsh. He pulled a hand through his hair. "But if I may say so, it will make my life, and yours too, somewhat easier if you don't go around... flaunting it, to the rest of the world, if you see my point."

"I see it perfectly, sir. I guess I did get a little carried away."

Welsh smiled ruefully. "Well, if those two downstairs haven't figured it out already, I must say they don't deserve their badges."

"I would say so, sir."

"Vecchio, you are a good officer, and the Mountie, though he may drive everybody up the wall, is as fine as they come. I'd really hate to have anything happen to either of you, but it's your life, and it's your choice. I..." Welsh hesitated, trying to find the right words, "I wish there were something I could do to make this easier for you, but..." he held up a hand, gesturing to everything else out there.

Ray faced his superior officer and friend, looking straight into his eyes. "You've already done that, sir," he said.

They headed down the stairs and walked into the dining room, to be greeted by Huey's hysterical laughter. Huey had slumped to the floor and was wiping tears from his eyes. Guardino glared at Huey, and Fraser stood by, looking completely innocent.

"Well, what have we got here?" Ray said, as he strode into the room ahead of Welsh. He noticed the second ball in the pocket. "Hey, Benny, you made my shot?" he asked. Fraser nodded. "Hey, good for you, I knew you could do it," said Ray, grabbing Fraser and ruffling his hair, then pinching his cheek for good measure. Guardino eyed them and muttered something under his breath, and Huey dissolved into another round of laughter.

Welsh surveyed his men, none of whom seemed to be acting anything like highly trained, disciplined police officers at the moment. "I think we could all use a drink," he suggested.

"Sure," agreed Ray, letting go of Fraser and heading out towards the kitchen. Huey picked himself up off the floor, and dusting his clothes, moved out into the living room, followed by Guardino, still muttering to himself. Welsh regarded Fraser, who was again studying the pool table.

"Did you plan this, Constable?" Welsh asked.

Fraser raised his head to glance at Welsh before leaning down to the table, positioning his cue to take a shot. "I assure you, sir, that it is a misconception that I plan everything," he replied. A swift, deft stroke of the stick sent the balls careening wildly all over the table, and one dropped into a side pocket, and another came tantalizingly close, teetering on the edge before regaining balance and staying on the table. Welsh raised an eyebrow.

"Benny, you want to help me carry out the beer?" Ray yelled from the kitchen.

"Yes, Ray." Fraser turned away from the table.

The ball slowly spun, tottered, and fell over the edge.

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

I wrote this story because I wanted to explore the contrast between Fraser's relationship with Victoria and his relationship with Ray. Watching the televised episodes of Due South, I'm always stuck by Ray's ability to allow Fraser to be selfish -- to just plainly and simply allow Fraser to disregard Ray's well-being in pursuit of his (usually quite well-intentioned and justifiable) goals, and to stand by and support Fraser in his endeavors, selflessly and often at great cost to himself. Fraser, in his turn, has an apparently absolute and unwavering trust in Ray's understanding and acceptance, even when he is being his most stubborn, self-centered, obsessive and demanding self ("Ray, do you think I expect too much of people?"). The foundation of their relationship is centered on their willingness to let the other be himself.

In "Victoria's Secret," on the other hand, Victoria demands that Fraser surrender himself to her, and Fraser wants Victoria to fill some undefined emotional needs within himself. Neither of the two really accepts each other for who he/she is. Interestingly enough, Fraser seems oblivious to this fundamental difference between his relationship with Victoria and his relationship with Ray. This story is my take on what would have happened if Fraser had been more aware of the true nature of his relationships with Ray and Victoria.

When I first contemplated writing this story, the initial storyline I conceived had Victoria wreaking almost all of the havoc that she did in the TV episode, including killing Jolly, framing Fraser, and setting up Ray for taking money from the bank robbery. This was possible, believe it or not, just by having Victoria manipulate Fraser's residual goodwill and his desire to do the right thing for any fellow human being, and Ray's willingness to support Fraser in any project Fraser set for himself.

I decided not to write that story, however, because it would only repeat most of the TV episode, minus those scenes where Fraser anguishes over his love for Victoria, and the amount of action involved would take away from the central issue I wanted to explore, the contrast between Fraser's relationship with Victoria and with Ray. Not to mention that it would have made the story so long I could never finish it. So in the interests of keeping this story under control and down to a reasonable length, I disarmed Victoria by having Ray find out early on that she had been declared dead. I regret that this has left Victoria totally ineffective and harmless -- after all, the most compelling aspect of her character is her deadliness. I hope what's left is interesting enough to justify reading through the story.

I tacked on the epilogue as an afterthought. It's based on the scene in "Victoria's Secret" where Ray invites his co-workers to his home and they shoot pool in the cramped dining room. It's just there for a little fun.