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Just Breathe

By Terri Botta, 1999

It was hot. It was so hot. The temperature was 110, the heat index was even hotter, and he had angered his superior officer again. So he was outside the Consulate in full uniform, red serge included, for a full shift in the afternoon sun.

The streets were practically deserted. Chicago had declared a health emergency, advising people to stay inside or seek air-conditioned places. Inspector Thatcher had apparently missed that particular announcement or ignored it in her ire.

He never gave disobedience a thought, however, nor considered reminding her of the heat. He took his post without complaint, he was a Mountie after all, and stood motionless as the vapors from the melting tar and asphalt wafted fumes along the street. He did give thought to Diefenbaker, thankful that his beloved companion was safely inside the air-conditioned Consulate. Dief had no tolerance for heat.

The first hour was uncomfortable. The second afforded him no relief, and he found himself unable to hypnotize himself into ignoring the rising temperature. The third hour had him breaking out into a sweat. The fourth hour he felt his brain begin to boil. The fifth hour found him drenched with sweat, fighting to hold his position, his head about to explode. When the clock finally struck three, he was barely standing, his body in full revolt and his mind functioning on minimal capacity.

He gave no thought to turning around and entering the cool Consulate. His mind, obeying his body’s screams for help, did not associate the building with safety and solace, and suffering as he was, he did not have the strength to argue. Instead, his feet turned in the direction of a place that was considered safe, or rather towards a person. It did not matter that the place in question was some distance away. He began to walk.

Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski aka Raymond Vecchio was armpit deep in paperwork when a faint voice broke him out of his form-filling daze.

"Ray."

He looked up and nearly fell out of his chair with shock. It was Fraser, but as he had never seen the Mountie before. He was in full uniform, the red serge showing damp spots even through the heavy wool. Sweat was pouring off his skin, his whole body shaking with strain. But it was his face that was the most alien. Benton’s face was flushed, his lips slack, his eyes dilated almost to the point of eclipsing the blue of his irises.

"Fraser?"

Fraser didn’t answer.

"Fraser?" he asked again, standing. The man was really scaring him now.

The Mountie swayed.

He nearly knocked his desk over getting around it to catch Fraser before he fell. He managed to get a chair underneath him, and the Mountie slumped into it, crumpling like a toy soldier. He circled around to crouch in front of his friend.

A fissure of fear ran up his spine as he looked into the dazed eyes. Fraser was one of the most important people in his life, and he loved the Mountie with an intensity that bordered on obsession. But he had learned his lesson from Stella and kept his affections to himself as much as he could. Oh, he slipped up every now and then, making a comment or gesture that if Fraser had been more ‘with it’ or less open-minded would have given him away, but the Mountie never seemed to catch on. Or if he did, he never said anything. Which was good because Fraser’d never shown any interest in men aside from brotherly love.

"Frase? Fraser? Ben? Benton-buddy?" he called. Seeing the proud man like this broke his heart.

Fraser didn’t answer, and he lightly slapped him on the cheek. He got no response. He did, however, determine that the Mountie had a fever, a high one. He ripped off the faithful Stetson, revealing the soaked black hair, practically steaming from the heat, and placed one hand on the sweaty forehead.

"Shit. You’re burning up. What the hell happened? Did the Ice Queen have you on guard duty?"

Just then Francesca took that moment to a) notice that Fraser had arrived, b) come sauntering over, and c) realize that the object of her affections was in severe distress.

"BENTON!"

Her shriek not only caused the Mountie to surge to his feet, but also attracted the attention of everyone within hearing range. In other words, the entire 27^th district, including Welsh. The Lieutenant came out of his office to see what was going on. He saw Fraser standing with his back to him, slightly unsteady on his feet with both Francesca Vecchio and Stan Kowalski gripping his arms. He stormed over, determined to find out what was happening.

"Vecchio! What the hell is…"

He stopped as Fraser snapped his heels and stood at attention.

"Sir!" the Constable said in full voice.

One look told him that the lights were on, but no one was home. A second look revealed why: heat exhaustion, and a bad case of it.

"Break room. Now," Welsh ordered.

With both Vecchio and Kowalski flanking him, they managed to walk Fraser to the break room and sit him down in a chair.

"Is he going to be all right?" Det. Huey asked, peering into the room.

"Yeah yeah, he’ll be fine," Ray said absently, all his attention on Fraser. It helped him quell his own panic.

"Not if we can’t get his temperature down. Here, put these on his forehead and on both his wrists," Welsh corrected, handing Ray three cloths soaked in cold water.

"Oh Benton, what happened to you?" Francesca cried, wiping Fraser’s face with one of the cloths.

"Mum?" Fraser asked lowly, his blank eyes turning to Francesca’s voice.

"Shouldn’t we be giving him fluids or something?" she asked.

"Not until we know his temperature. Someone get me a first aid kit! There should be a thermometer in it. Then we can see how bad this is," Welsh commanded. "And get that damn wool coat off him."

"Dad?" Fraser said, looking at Welsh.

"Don’t tell me she had him out in this," the Lieutenant growled.

"You tell me. How else could he have fried himself?" Ray snapped, fumbling with the collar of the red serge. "He probably was two minutes late pickin’ up her dry cleaning. Shit! How the hell does he get this damn thing off!"

Finally the collar came loose and he was able to peel the front of it open. Manhandling him a little bit, he managed to get the coat off. The white shirt underneath was drenched. Ray swore again. If Thatcher was responsible for this, he’d have her head.

"Constable, can you tell us what happened to you?" Welsh asked, leaning close.

The Mountie looked at Welsh but did not answer.

"Constable!" the Lieutenant barked.

"Sir!" Fraser replied reflexively.

"Report your whereabouts and activities from twelve-hundred to fifteen-hundred hours today."

"Guard duty, sir. Outside the Canadian Consulate, Chicago, Illinois, the United States of America, sir!" Fraser answered in military tones.

Ray growled and Welsh bit back a curse.

"And who gave you those orders, Constable?"

"My superior officer, Inspector Margaret Thatcher, sir!"

"Thank you very much, Constable. At ease," Welsh said with a sigh.

"Thank you, sir."

"See? See I was right! The Ice Queen had him out in this!" Ray seethed. "I’m gonna kill her!"

Welsh put a hand to his shaking head and turned his back.

"Here’s the first aid kit, Lieutenant," someone said, coming in and handing Welsh a small case.

Welsh opened it and fished out the thermometer.

"Here, put this in his mouth," he told Ray.

Ray took the thermometer. "Will he let me do that?"

"Just make sure he doesn’t bite down."

"Hey Frase, you gotta open up," Ray said, trying to get Fraser’s attention.

"Steve?" the Mountie answered.

"Uh-huh dat’s right, an’ Steve wants ya ta open yer mouth."

Fraser obeyed and Ray slid the thermometer in. "Now close yer mouth real gentle like an’ don’ bite down."

Fraser closed his mouth, lips pursing around the thermometer.

"God, he’s like a dog," Francesca sniffed.

"Who the hell is Steve?" Ray scowled, fighting down a surge of jealousy.

"Now take it easy both of you. Right now our Mountie friend is not firing on all cylinders," Welsh admonished.

"No shit, really?" Ray bit back, then shook his head. "I would love to get my hands on the Ice Queen right now."

Welsh removed the thermometer and looked at it. "Well right now Detective you’re going to take this man back to your apartment and cool him down."

"Lieu?" Ray answered.

"His temperature’s 104. Not quite high enough to warrant going to the hospital, but too high for my comfort. Take him back to your place and put him in a tub of cool water. Not cold water, COOL water."

"I’ll help you!" Francesca offered.

"Ah, no thanks, Frannie. You just wanna see da Mountie in his skivvies," Ray retorted, wondering how he himself was going to handle seeing Fraser in the nude.

Francesca huffed and pouted.

Welsh handed him a glass of water. "Here, have him drink this then get him out of here. I’m going to go have a talk with Inspector Thatcher, then I’ll bring you some of his clothes for you to put him in. He still lives at the Consulate, right?"

Ray nodded, "Yeah." He lifted the glass to Fraser’s lips. "Ok, Benton-buddy, Steve wants ya ta drink this."

Obediently, Fraser lifted one hand to hold the glass and drank the contents. Ray did not notice Welsh leaving as he watched Fraser down the water.

"Here, have him drink more," Francesca said, handing him another glass. He gave it to Fraser who drank it without comment or hesitation.

"There ya go buddy. Yer gonna be fine," Ray soothed, wondering who he was trying to comfort.

Fraser blinked, but said nothing. After a moment, Ray urged him to his feet.

"Ok Frase, we gotta get you outta here, so’s I needs ya ta stand."

Silently, Fraser stood and Ray wrapped an arm around him, holding him steady. Picking up the red coat, Ray draped it over one arm and grabbed the Stetson as he guided Fraser out of the break room.

"That’s it, Frase. One foot in fronta da other," he said, walking slowly, letting the Mountie lean on him when his balance failed him.

The man’s body was hot and damp, but he did place his arm around Ray’s shoulder and his fingers dug almost painfully into Ray’s skin. Ray bore it without complaint, glad for the pain because it helped him concentrate.

It took them a while, but they made it to the GTO and Ray got him settled into the front passenger seat. Fraser’s head dropped back to rest against the head restraint, his eyes closed, and Ray broke land speed records to get home, for once regretting that Fraser was not scolding him about his driving. It only made him worry more.

‘No time for dat,’ he chided himself ‘Gotta get him home, gotta get him cooled off. Strip him an get him in da tub. Oh god, how am I gonna do this? Yer gonna do it, Kowalski and yer gonna keep yer libido in line.’

Getting up the stairs to his apartment was entertaining, with Fraser leaning heavily on him, but he managed. He steered the Mountie through his living room and took him directly into the bathroom where he sat him down on the closed toilet seat. Starting the tub filling with water that was just this side of cool, he began unlacing Fraser’s boots.

"Geeze, Fraser, how the hell do you get these things on?" he complained, yanking one with all the force he dared to use.

The boot pulled free with a loud sucking pop, and Ray dropped it on the floor. He set to getting the other one off and it relinquished its hold on the Mountie’s leg after a struggle. Once the boots were out of the way, the rest of Fraser’s clothes came off without complications. Ray pulled down the suspenders and unbuttoned the damp shirt, peeling it off and tossing it on the floor. Fraser was wearing a tank top undershirt underneath. Ray shook his head.

"How many layers you got on, Frase?" he asked as he pulled the tank over Fraser’s head and threw it on top of the shirt.

Ray stifled a gasp as Fraser’s broad chest was revealed. His body was perfect, just as Ray imagined it would be, beautiful and smooth; except for the fact that this part of him was flushed as well, and wet with sweat. The skin was marred only by a scar on the right side, jagged and discolored. He indulged himself for a brief moment and stroked one strong shoulder.

"Yer gonna be ok, buddy," he promised. "An nothin’ like this is ever gonna happen again. I promise."

He took a deep breath and let his hands settle on the zipper of Fraser’s jodhpurs, then he slowly unzipped them. He watched Fraser’s face as he did so, looking for any sign that the other man was aware of what was happening. Fraser didn’t even open his eyes. Swallowing, he took the Mountie by the hips.

"I need ya ta stand, Frase," he said lowly.

A moment later Fraser rose to his feet slowly and Ray carefully pulled the jodhpurs down over his hips. Steeling himself for what came next, he put his hands under the waistband of Fraser’s boxers and slid them off. He tried not to look, but he couldn’t help himself. This part of the Mountie was perfect too, his uncut member nestled in a thatch of black curls, but his balls hung low from the heat.

Curbing his lust and his anger at Fraser’s condition, he yanked trousers, boxers and socks off each leg and turned off the water. Then he stood and turned Fraser to face the full bathtub.

"Ok now, buddy, I need ya ta step inta da tub."

As he had obeyed every other command Ray had given him, Fraser lifted one leg and stepped forward until he was standing in the tub. Putting one hand on the Mountie’s shoulder and the other on his hip, Ray gently urged him to sit down in the water, and then to lie back until most of his 6 foot frame was immersed.

"There. There ya go. Yer gonna be ok now," Ray soothed, sitting on the floor and scooping the cool water over Fraser’s shoulders.

He dipped a washcloth in the water and doused Fraser’s hair and forehead. Fraser relaxed and turned his head towards Ray, his eyes closed. The gesture warmed him and almost brought tears to his eyes.

‘I love you, Fraser,’ he thought to himself, continuing his ministrations.

He kept up the gentle washing, talking lowly and comfortingly, for about fifteen minutes. Then Fraser’s body suddenly began to convulse.

"Wha? What the Hell? Fraser!"

The Mountie heaved and Ray had just enough time to grab him and pull him forward as he vomited all over the bathroom floor.

"Oh jeeze! Oh Shit! Fraser!" Ray yelled, trying to avoid getting splattered on as Fraser vomited again.

He was breathing almost as hard as Fraser's when the Mountie finally stopped heaving, and he yanked towels from the towel rack to clean up the mess. Then he knelt down and wiped Fraser’s face with the wet wash cloth.

"I’m gonna kill her. I swear I’m gonna kill that bitch. How could she do this to you? I’m glad Welsh went an’ not me. I’d a blown her head off."

Fraser let out a long, low groan and slumped back against the tub. Ray winced at the sound and tried to settle the Mountie into the water. Fraser shook his head and his eyes flew open, darting about wildly.

"Easy, easy. Yer OK. Just gimme some warning if ya gotta do dat again."

The dilated eyes turned towards his voice.

"Ray?"

The sound of his name thrilled him, but the tone of voice froze him to the core. Fraser’s voice was hoarse and frightened.

"Yeah. It’s me, buddy. I’m here."

One wet hand lifted out of the water and snatched at his wrist, gripping it almost painfully tight. He didn’t pull away.

"Ray?" Fraser said again, a little louder this time.

"Yeah, Frase?"

"I don’t feel very well, Ray," the Mountie managed, choosing his words slowly.

"No shit, really? You only just fried yerself and tossed yer lunch all over my bathroom floor."

"I’m sick, Ray," Fraser continued, as if he hadn’t heard a word Ray had just said.

"I just said that, Fraser."

"I’ve... I’ve never been sick, Ray," the Mountie went on, his eyes wide and unfocused.

"Aw c’mon, everybody gets sick, Frase..."

He stopped as Fraser let out a strained moan and clutched at his stomach.

"Ok, OK, got it, round two," Ray said, seeing the signs and grabbing the wastebasket just in time for Fraser to retch into it.

"Oh God," he heard Fraser gasp, just before another bout of gagging.

The voice was the voice of suffering and Ray considered Fraser’s words that this was the first time he had ever been sick. Considering what a control freak the Mountie was, maybe this really was the first time his body absolutely refused to do his mind’s bidding. If that was the case, Fraser was probably badly shaken up.

Just when Ray was wondering if there was anything left in Fraser’s stomach or if he was just dry heaving, Fraser pushed himself away from the trashcan and sunk back into the tub. His face was pained and vomit stained his lips and nose, tears were leaking from his tightly closed eyes. Ray wiped his face, then filled a bathroom cup with water and held it to Fraser’s mouth.

"Here, rinse yer mouth out. It’ll help wit’ the taste."

Fraser obeyed, spitting into the offered trashcan. Then he lay back again, breathing hard and clearing his throat in discomfort.

Ray put down the soiled basket and moved next to the tub. His heart was beating fast with concern for his partner, and he found his hand reaching out before he could stop himself. Boldly, he stroked the dark hair.

"Yer gonna be OK, Frase."

Fraser did not answer, but his hand lifted up and took Ray’s, bringing it down to rest, palm down against his chest. He held it there, his broad fingers almost completely eclipsing Ray’s smaller hand, pressed over his heart. The gesture nearly unhinged Ray and he was glad he was sitting down when Fraser did it.

He opened his mouth to say something when his cell phone rang. Cursing as he saw Fraser wince from the noise, he whipped it off his belt with his free hand and answered it.

"Vecchio."

"It’s Welsh," Lieutenant Welsh said. "How is our Canadian friend?"

"Fine considering he’s had his brain boiled an’ just puked his guts out. Did ya talk ta da Ice Queen about this yet?"

There was a long pause, and Ray had the sneaking suspicion that he had been on a speakerphone.

"Lieu?"

"Uh, yeah, Detective. I’m still here. And yes, Inspector Thatcher and I have discussed Constable Fraser’s condition, and she assures me that it will not happen again."

Ray sneered. "Oh, so like she’s actually gonna treat him like a human being from now on?"

Another long pause. "The situation will not be repeated."

"What the hell is dat supposed to mean?" Ray snapped, furious. "How about she comes here an’ see what she’s done to him! Let him throw up all over her!"

"Now take it easy, Detective..."

"I will not take it easy! She coulda killed him! He could be in da hospital right now in convulsions coz a her!" he roared. "He’s been pukin’ for da last twenty minutes! How about she comes an’ sees that! Huh? No, screw dat, don’t have her come here coz if I see her I’ll prolly kill her! So’s just keep her the fuck away from me right now!"

"Vecchio!"

"Ray!" Fraser cried, his voice anguished.

"Gotta go, Lieu. Frase needs me. Just bring me his clothes so’s I got somethin’ ta put him when he’s done tossin’ his lunch. An I’m not apologizin’ fer what I just said about da Ice Queen. You tell her if she does this again, I’ll beat her bloody with da butt of my gun an’ *then* I’ll kick her in the head!"

He hung up before Welsh could say anything and moved to see what was wrong with Fraser.

"Easy, easy, buddy. It’s OK. I’m here."

"I’m sorry, Ray," the Mountie answered, his voice was almost a sob.

"Shhhh. Shhhhh," Ray soothed, turning the hand Fraser still held so he could hold the Mountie’s hand and used his free hand to stroke the wet hair again. "Dis is not yer fault. You got nothin’ ta be sorry for."

"I’m frightened, Ray."

The words broke Ray’s heart. "Ya don’t need ta be scared, Frase. I’m here, an yer gonna be fine."

"Don’t leave me, Ray," Fraser whispered, his eyes closing and his throat swallowing hard.

"I’m not goin’ anywhere, buddy. I’m right here. You just concentrate on getting’ better an’ let me worry about everythin’ else. OK?"

Fraser nodded, falling silent. Ray respected the quiet, holding Fraser’s hand and gently petting the dark hair. Every now and then he brushed his thumb over Fraser’s eyebrow, the way he’d seen the other man do when he was upset. He thought it might be comforting to him. It was. Fraser leaned into his touch slightly, and he felt him relax.

For the next half-hour, Ray stayed with his partner, comforting him and replenishing the water when Fraser started to shiver. Ray was heartened when Fraser did not throw up again and his skin lost the heated flush. He felt cooler too, as if his high fever had come down a few notches. Every now and then he scooped the water up to douse Fraser’s shoulders and neck, and poured more over his head. So concerned was he with his friend’s health, that he nearly forgot he was touching Fraser’s naked body.

Lieutenant Welsh interrupted their quiet moments when he knocked on Ray’s apartment door. Immediately, Fraser’s eyes snapped open and he looked about.

"It’s just Welsh," Ray told him gently, moving to get up from the bathroom floor.

A hand whipped out, lightning fast, to grab his wrist, and he looked into the wide blue eyes, wondering if Fraser was delirious again.

"It’s OK, Frase. I’m not leavin’ ya. I just gotta go answer the door. I’ll be right back, scout’s honor."

Ray saw Fraser swallow then the iron grip on his wrist eased. Ray smiled at him.

"Be right back, lickety split," he promised, jumping to his feet and slipping out the door.

True to his word, he was back in the bathroom within four minutes with Diefenbaker. The half-wolf whined when he saw his friend and licked at Fraser’s face. A small smile came to the Mountie’s lips and he buried his nose in the thick fur.

"You weren’t kidding when you said he was tossing his lunch," Lieutenant Welsh said, peering into the bathroom.

"Yeah, well, I been kinda busy an’ ain’t had a chance ta clean it all up," Ray snapped.

"What’s his temperature?"

"Dunno," Ray answered, opening the medicine chest and rummaging around for the thermometer he knew was there.

"How are you feeling, Constable?" Welsh asked, half in and half out of the bathroom.

Fraser lifted his face from Diefenbaker’s fur and blinked confusedly at the older man.

"Leftenant?"

Welsh sighed, realizing that the Mountie was still not operating at full capacity. "Yes, Constable. How are you feeling?"

"I’m not feeling very well, sir."

"Ah-ha!" Ray crowed, holding up the found thermometer.

He turned and knelt next to the tub. "Here, Frase, open up."

Fraser complied and Ray put the thermometer in his mouth.

"So’s ya talked wit the Ice Queen and she says this’ll never happen again?" Ray commented, sitting down on the floor amid the soiled towels and sweaty clothes. His mother was going to have a fit when she saw the state of the bathroom.

"Inspector Thatcher assures me that none of the subordinates under her command will suffer as the Constable has today," Welsh replied, rocking on his heels a bit.

"Like what’d ya do to her? I’d a smashed her face in. Ben’s too good fer her."

Welsh ignored the slip. "I reminded her that while it is true that the Consulate is considered to be Canadian soil, Canada has laws regarding the endangerment of employees as well, and that I doubted her government would look kindly upon her actions."

Ray grunted and took the thermometer out of Fraser’s mouth. "Well, whatever works. 101.4."

Welsh cocked his head a bit. "Better than it was. You can probably take him out of the tub now. I brought some stuff for him to drink, high in electrolytes. See that he drinks it all."

"I c’n do dat."

The lieutenant moved to step into the bathroom. "You need help?"

Ray shook his head as he rose to his feet. "Nah, I got it. He’s easy."

Welsh tried to hide his relief. "I’ll get back to the precinct then. You take care of him. You got tomorrow off, and you can tell him when he’s all there that the Inspector has ordered him to take two days’ sick leave."

"Will do," Ray said, fishing clean towels from underneath the sink.

"Ok then, I’ll get going. The stuff for him to drink is just outside this door along with his clothes."

"Gotcha."

He was fluffing out a towel and checking it for cleanliness when Welsh closed the door. He did not acknowledge the man’s leaving.

"Ok, Frase. Bath time’s over."

Fraser looked at him, turning his attention away from Diefenbaker. Ray held out the towel.

"C’n ya stand, buddy?"

In answer, Fraser stood up slowly, a little off balance, but mostly steady and Ray wrapped the towel around his hips, noting that things had shrunk a little in the cool water.

"Ok, doin’ great," he coaxed, arms out to catch Fraser should he fall. "Now step outta da tub."

Fraser put one hand on Ray’s shoulder for support as he lifted one leg. Ray braced him, ready to keep Fraser from losing his balance, and he was shocked when Fraser wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he stepped onto the bathroom floor.

"Ya ok, Frase?" Ray asked, nearly biting his tongue when Fraser moved in close and rested his forehead against Ray’s temple. "S’ok, Frase. Yer gonna be fine," he assured, putting his arm around Fraser’s back and guiding him towards the door.

Fraser went willingly, letting Ray lead him out of the bathroom, waiting when Ray bent down to pick up the bag Welsh had outside the bathroom door, and moving again when Ray asked him. He gave Ray no trouble until Ray stopped him just at the edge of his bed.

"Ok… Just gotta get some clothes on ya…" Ray commented, rummaging in the bag for boxers and a T-shirt.

Ray felt Fraser place a hand on his shoulder and looked up into the hazy blue eyes.

"Ya gonna fall, Frase? Throw up again?"

Fraser did not speak, but he moved his hand to cup Ray's cheek in a gesture of tender affection. Ray froze, trying not to read too much into the gentle touch, but finding it hard to control his body's reaction. His heart beat double-time in his chest.

"O… ok. Look, here, see undies," he stammered, holding up a pair of starched boxers.

Fraser let his hand fall slowly, his fingers trailing over Ray's jaw. Ray swallowed hard and moved to remove the towel that was wrapped around Fraser's waist.

'Ok, Kowalski, time to bite the bullet. Just… think about snowballs or sinking ships or somethin… oh god, he's gorgeous. How do I get myself in ta these things!'

"Ok buddy, I needs ya ta lift yer leg. That's it, just like dat, an' now da other one… Good," he coaxed, slipping on the boxers and pulling them up Fraser's legs. He tented out the front to make sure he didn't 'catch' anything as the waistband moved over the well-made hips.

"Ok, an’ shirt time. Gimme yer arms," he said, gathering up the tank top on his hands.

Obediently, Fraser held out his arms, and let Ray slip the tank on and pull it over his head.

"An’ ‘dere ya go. Just lemme get the elec...elect... stuff Welsh wanted ya ta drink," he mumbled absently, kneeling down to dig into the bag again and trying very hard not to look at Fraser.

He was picking up one of the large bottles of powerade when he felt Fraser cup his chin. Reluctantly, he raised his eyes to look at the other man as Fraser sat down on the mattress. Words caught in his throat and his eyes misted over at the look of tenderness on Fraser’s face. That was the only way to describe the soft, warm expression that graced the Mountie’s features, and the knowledge that Fraser was looking at him like that made him shiver.

"Thank you, Ray," Fraser whispered, running his thumb over Ray’s jaw and bottom lip.

It took him several moments to find his voice, and when he did, he pressed an opened bottle into Fraser’s broad hand.

"Here, drink dis."

As it had been all afternoon, Ray’s wish was Fraser’s command and the Mountie raised the bottle to his lips. Ray watched his Adam’s Apple move with each swallow Fraser took, following the trail of the liquid as it went down the man’s throat. Finally, Fraser drank the last mouthful and lowered the bottle. Ray took it from his unresisting fingers.

"Ok, den. Beddie-bye time. I gots the A.C. on tilt so’s ya should be nice an’ cool," he told Fraser, who was still looking at him, watching his every move, but with a dazed, unfocused look in his eyes. He looked positively adorable.

Ray cleared his throat, trying not to seem too nervous as he pulled back the covers on his bed and moved to maneuver Fraser to lie down. "Bed’s not too bad. My ma washed the sheets earlier this week, so’s they shouldn’t smell..." he continued, knowing he was babbling but unable to stop himself.

Fraser stopped him cold by taking his wrist.

"Um, Frase?"

"Don’t leave me, Ray. Please."

Ray found himself speechless again, and when he finally could, his voice was choked. "I told ya, I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m... I’m just gonna get the trash can just in case ya get sick again."

He carefully pulled his arm from Fraser’s grasp because this time it seemed that the Mountie didn't want to let go. Then he put his hands on Fraser’s shoulders and pushed him back.

"C’mon, get under da covers. Yeah, like dat," he guided, overseeing the Mountie as he lifted his legs up to the mattress and let Ray tuck him in. "Dere, snug as a bug."

Diefenbaker yipped and jumped onto the bed, curling up at his friend’s feet.

"See, even yer wolf’s comfy."

Fraser held the covers up to his chest, but his eyes never left Ray, and Ray got the distinct impression that the other man now expected to be abandoned.

"I’ll just... go get dat bucket, an’ be right back. Promise."

He backed out of the room, keenly aware that Fraser was watching almost without blinking. He found himself hurrying to get back, grabbing the bucket from the bathroom, dumping it out into the kitchen trash and lining it with a plastic shopping bag. The blue eyes were still staring at the door when he returned, and he noted the light in them when they saw him come back. He put the trashcan by the bedside and moved to change into a pair of shorts and a T. Fraser’s head turned to watch him strip, and the scene was oddly exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time.

When he was ready, steeling himself mentally and physically, he crawled into bed next to Fraser. The Mountie rolled to face him and Ray stayed still, positioned on his side as Fraser moved close, nuzzling his face into Ray’s chest. Ray breathed and counted to ten, multiple times, until he heard Fraser sigh and felt him relax. The gesture of trust touched him deeply and he gingerly placed an arm around the broad shoulders.

"Shhh, Frase. Go’s ta sleep. I’m here."

A low mutter was his answer, and the Mountie snuggled closer.

Ray stayed awake for a while longer, his brain wired and racing, until the events of the afternoon finally caught up with him. He yawned. The bed was comfortable and the heat from Fraser’s body was warming him. He’d missed cuddling, hadn’t done it since Stella left. Cuddling with Fraser was really, really nice, even if it drove him crazy. It was still wonderful to be so close to another person. He smiled to himself and let himself relax. He drew Fraser closer, tucking him into the curve of his body, and timed his breaths with the Mountie’s slow, even breathing. A few minutes later, he surrendered himself to sleep.

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

When Fraser woke up he was being held. No, he was being more than held, he was being cradled. Ray had both arms around him, one arm supporting his head while the other wrapped around his waist. The effect was that he was pressed against his partner in a comforting embrace, securely held next to the wiry body.

It had been years since anyone had held him so lovingly. He had only vague memories of his mother cradling him as a small child, and they were more memories of warmth and the sound of her voice crooning to him. Ray's breathing was slow and steady in sleep, lulling and almost hypnotic. His body heat was warm against a room that was cool from the air conditioner; he could hear its fan blowing cold air full-blast, and he did not want to move.

It was too comfortable, too comforting, and it had been so long since anyone had just held him. It seemed that only Ray touched him anymore, and he craved touch even if he couldn't ask for it. Every time someone touched him, he had to fight himself to keep from begging for more, especially if the touch was Ray's. The feel of his partner's hand on him had become synonymous with trust and friendship, safety and solace, and love- definitely love.

Lying there in Ray's arms, Fraser wanted nothing more than to sink into them and stay ensconced in the embrace forever. But the cool, logical part of his brain was asking questions as it shook off sleep. What was he doing here? How did he get here? Why was he in Ray's bed… dressed only in underwear and clean underwear at that? Why was Ray holding him so close? What had happened? He creased his brow, trying to remember.

He recalled returning late from an errand Inspector Thatcher had sent him on. There had been a traffic accident and he had stayed to make sure that everyone was all right. During the course of the argument that ensued over whose fault the accident was, one of the drivers had drawn a gun, and things went from there. By the time the angry motorist was subdued and Chicago police on the scene, he was fifteen minutes late with the package he had been sent to retrieve. Inspector Thatcher had punished his tardiness by ordering him to stand guard duty.

He remembered the unbearable heat, and the stench of melting tar burning his nostrils, and the throbbing in his head. And the thought of Ray, that he had to get to Ray because Ray was safety and comfort. After that, his memories were dim. Yet he must have safely made it to the 27^th district, and Ray obviously saw to it that he was cared for…

A memory came back with vivid clarity, of a tub of cool water and a wrenching pain in his gut as he lost control of his stomach and retched helplessly. Ray had been there, wiping his face, soothing him.

'Oh dear… I… I vomited all over him, all over his floor. Oh dear…'

He shifted uncomfortably, kicking Dief who lifted his head and whined.

"Hush," he admonished through clenched teeth.

Ray made a sound and Fraser stilled, then the arms around him tightened and a hand stroked his hair.

"Ray?"

"Shhh. S'ok, Frase, I'm here," Ray answered, still asleep.

The gesture made Fraser melt inside. The voice was sweet and tender, the hand was gentle and caressing, and he couldn't remember a time when anyone had comforted him in such a way. It wasn't a buddy-buddy comfort or a brotherly embrace. It was how you held someone when they meant a great deal to you, when they were more than friends, when they…

'Oh… oh God. He loves me. He loves me too…' he realized.

The knowledge brought tears to his eyes. After months, years, of wanting and waiting, of wondering if Ray's comments and seeming-suggestions were sincere, he knew- finally knew- that Ray loved him. No words, no off-hand remark or glance could speak as loudly as the arms around him and the hand in his hair, and they said 'I love you, Fraser' with perfect clarity.

He choked on a sob, trying to muffle it, but Ray heard and pet him again.

"Ray."

"Shhh. I said I's here. S'ok, Ben, go's ta sleep."

"Ray," he repeated, this time a little louder.

As Fraser watched, Ray awakened, his eyes opening to look at him, and his heart caught in his throat. The eyes were soft and… full of love as they focused on him, and Ray smiled, a sweet, close-lipped smile that spoke of simple happiness and pleasure. Fraser smiled back, softly, gently, waiting. Ray's smile broadened, showing some teeth.

"Good morning, Ray," he dared.

"Ben," Ray whispered back and the name was said with reverence.

Fraser breathed in the air the name was spoken with, taking it in, making it a part of him, and for one eternal moment they were completely open, hiding nothing of what they both felt. They each lifted their lips to the other, moving in unison until they touched in a tender, aching kiss. He sighed, releasing the breath that he had been holding. It was wonderful, this unguarded moment, and he wished for it to last forever. Then he saw Ray come to full consciousness, his eyes clear and his expression change to one of fear and mortification. Words of reassurance were on his lips but Ray was already moving, struggling to release him, to cease what he thought was a terrible faux-pas.

"Fraser!"

"Ray…"

"I'm sorry, Fraser. I dunno what got inta me…"

He was pulling back and Fraser felt bereft. "Ray…"

"It won' happen again, I promise…"

He was going to get up, to run, to leave, Fraser knew that, just as he knew that he had to stop him, had to keep him from making that mistake.

"RAY!" he cried, not realizing that his throat was sore and raw from vomiting.

He began to cough, loudly, uncontrollably, making his bruised stomach muscles ache and his lungs gasp for breath. Ray was beside him in an instant, concerned, hovering. He took the opportunity to seize Ray's wrist and not let go.

"Easy. Easy buddy. Yer Ok. Just take deep breaths and relax. Dat's it. Just relax. Yer gonna be fine," Ray comforted.

Fraser felt Ray leaning and thought he was trying to get away again. He tightened his grip on the other man's arm.

"Don't leave me, Ray," he choked hoarsely, trying to catch his breath.

There was a pause, then Ray said carefully, "I ain't goin' nowhere, Frase. I… jest need ta get somethin' from dis bag on da floor."

He loosened his hold enough for Ray to bend over and pick up the second bottle of powerade. He watched Ray open it with his teeth because his wrist was still held in Fraser's iron grip.

"Here, buddy. Drink dis," Ray ordered, handing him the bottle.

Fraser complied, gulping down the orange-flavored liquid between gasps.

"I'm so thirsty," he admitted when he could breathe again.

"I ain't surprised. Ya sweat buckets yesterday. You was soaked when ya got to the 27^th."

"What happened to me, Ray?" he asked. He had to keep the other man talking until he could recover.

"Heat exhaustion from standin' out in dat inferno. Da Ice Queen had ya out in it. You was in bad shape. Had a fever of 104. Welsh had me bring ya back here ta cool ya down."

He nodded, drinking more liquid. It didn't taste the greatest, but it was wet and that made it fine.

"I gathered as much," he said. "I have no concrete memory of most of it."

"What do ya remember?" he heard Ray ask haltingly.

He thought a moment, then replied slowly, "I remember you putting me in the tub and… my getting sick. I'm so sorry about your floor, Ray."

Ray shrugged. "It ain't nothin'. Da floor's seen worse." He paused, then questioned, "What else do ya remember?"

He put the bottle down carefully, then raised his face to look at Ray. Ray refused to meet his gaze until Fraser cupped his chin with his free hand, and forced him to turn his head back.

"I remember all of the important things, Ray."

Ray shook his head. "Frase…"

"I remember how you took care of me, how you comforted me, how you didn't leave me. I remember your voice and your touch. I remember the… love you showed me."

Ray flinched at the word love and Fraser's heart spasmed, but he pushed on.

"You love me, don't you, Ray."

Ray laughed once without mirth, pulling his chin from Fraser’s grasp. "Ya knows I love ya, Fraser. I told ya so. I love ya like a brother."

'Poor, Ray, still trying to salvage what you think you've broken.' "No Ray. I didn't mean like a brother. I meant… you love me… like a lover."

Ray's body stiffened and Fraser clamped his hand down on the captured wrist, silently telling Ray that he was not letting go.

"Ray…" he began.

"Ya ain't got nothing ta worry about," Ray interrupted shakily. "I ain't never gonna, y'know… come on ta ya or nothin…"

"Ray…"

"I mean… I'm not really inta guys. Well, not much. I fooled around a bit 'fore Stella and I got married. An' I dunno what got inta me …"

"Ray…"

"But you was hurtin' and I just… I'm… I'm real sorry Frase…"

"RAY!"

Ray stopped and looked at Fraser like a deer caught in headlights. Fraser's heart reached out to him.

"It's all right, Ray."

Ray blinked. "Yer… yer not mad?"

He shook his head. "No, Ray, I'm not mad."

He saw the relief on Ray's face. "So… we're like OK?"

He nodded, smiling at Ray's insecurity. "We're Ok."

Ray ventured a smile back. "Good. Dat's real good."

Fraser’s smile grew, he couldn’t help it. The knowledge and confirmation of this man’s love for him made him almost giddy with joy. He raised one hand and caressed the stubbled cheek.

"I love you too, Ray. So much."

"Fraser?"

"May I kiss you, Ray?"

Ray blinked at him, twice, then nodded. He suppressed a grin as he finally released his grip on Ray’s wrist and brought that hand up to grasp the back of Ray’s neck. Pulling him forward and down, he pressed his lips to Ray’s in a light and loving kiss. Ray moaned and leaned into him, deepening the kiss until they fell back to the mattress.

They kissed, moaning softly, limbs entwining, until Fraser began to cough. Ray was off of him immediately, helping him catch his breath, rubbing his chest in little comforting circles.

"Maybe dis ain’t such a good idea, Frase," Ray commented, looking down at him with a concerned expression on his face.

"Ben. Call me Ben," he corrected softly, wanting Ray to speak his name in that intimate way.

"Ben." It was like a prayer and Fraser shuddered. "Maybe we should kinda wait a bit, y’know. Yer still recoverin’ from gettin’ fried, an’..."

‘And he’s scared and uncertain and needs reassuring.’ "Perhaps you’re right, Ray. I am feeling somewhat fatigued."

"Yeah, an’ ya gotta build up yer electr... electr... fluids."

"Electrolytes, Ray," he offered, unable to keep himself from grinning.

"Yeah, them. So’s why don’t we just rest a bit? Da Ice Queen gave ya two days sick leave, an’ Welsh gave me tomorrow off."

"That was very generous of him."

Ray shrugged. "Yeah, well, he knew I’d take the day off anyways to take care of ya."

He took Ray’s hand and held it against his heart. "You always take care of me, Ray."

Ray flushed and he was a beautiful sight. "Ya want me to get ya somethin’ ta eat? Ya hungry?"

"No, Ray, I’m not hungry. But I am thirsty. Water, please?"

"Ya want tea?"

"No. I don’t think caffeine would be good for my stomach right now."

Fraser saw the flash of fear. "Yer stomach? Yer not gonna be sick again are ya? I got the bucket right dere next ta da bed..."

"Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray!" He coughed and Ray turned all his attention to him.

"Ya ok, Fra... Ben?"

"I’m fine Ray, but I really need something to drink. I’m parched."

"I gots some of dat chamomile tea ya like so much..."

"Water’s fine, Ray, and I think I’d prefer it over anything else."

"Water it is den," Ray said, moving to get up.

Fraser watched him, never looking away as Ray slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him to keep in the cool air-conditioning. Dief groaned and shifted his weight on the mattress.

"I’m sorry, but it’s his bed and he will take up as much space as he likes. If you don’t like it, you can sleep on the floor," he admonished.

Dief whined and he was going to scold again when Ray returned with a bottle of cold spring water.

"Here, Ben," Ray said, climbing back into bed and giving Fraser the water.

"Thank you kindly, Ray," he replied, opening the bottle and taking a deep drink.

Ray watched him and he decided to tease by sucking on the bottle then licking his lips. He saw the blue eyes dilate and Ray’s nostrils flare.

"Is it still hot out, Ray?" he asked innocently.

He saw Ray struggle to find his voice and suppressed a smile.

"Oh yeah, it’s boilin’ out there. But I gotta tell ya, Fra... Ben, it could get pretty hot in here if ya keep that up."

Now he did smile. "I think I could withstand the heat as long as I knew you were with me."

Ray moaned low in his chest and Fraser reached up to bring him down for a kiss. Their tongues wrestled tentatively for a moment until Ray wrenched himself away with a choked sob.

"Ray?" he asked, worried. "Ray are you all right?"

Ray looked at him and he could see the tears welling in the blue eyes. "Whaddya doin’ wit’ me, Frase? Yer perfect and gorgeous and ya can have anybody, man or woman. Whatchya doin’ wit’ me?"

‘Ah, here it comes.’ "What I’m doing with you, Ray, is loving you. Loving you with everything I have to offer. I don’t want anyone else, man or woman. I want you," he assured tenderly.

A single tear made its way down Ray’s cheek. "But I gots nothin’ ta offer ya..."

He stopped him by raising up and licking the tear away.

"You already give me everything I need Ray."

"I do?"

He kissed Ray’s eyelids, flicking his tongue along the soft lashes.

"Yes, Ray. Do you want to know what I need?"

Ray leaned into him, his voice barely a whisper. "What? What do ya need? I’ll get it fer ya. Anythin’..."

Fraser positioned them so they were lying side by side, facing each other, and kissed him.

"Just breathe, Ray," he murmured into the open, pliant mouth.

"Breathe?" Ray repeated, just as quietly.

"Yes. That’s all I need of you. Just breathe."

Ray sighed, his eyes drifting shut, and Fraser snuggled close. He smiled as he felt Ray’s arms come around him, cradling him as he had been cradled when he first awakened. He felt utterly safe and loved, wrapped in that tender embrace with Ray’s heartbeat thudding steadily in his ear.

"I love you, Ray," he whispered.

"I love you too, Ben," came the immediate answer.

Fraser let out a contented croon as Ray drew the covers up around them, nuzzling into the warmth of Ray’s body and taking in his unique scent. He closed his eyes tiredly.

"Breathe, eh?" he heard Ray comment as sleep was coming up to claim him.

"Mmm-hmm, just breathe," he replied.

"Ok. I c'n do dat."

"I know."

Silence settled around them, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner. Ray drew a long breath then let it out slowly. He felt Fraser press even closer, and the rise and fall of the Mountie's chest against his own, moving in perfect time. He smiled, relaxing, and held his lover tighter as they both fell asleep.

Just breathe.