This is the sequel for "In The Absence Of The Moon" so you might want to read that first before reading this. As a matter of fact, you NEED to read that to fully understand this, it's on the hexwood archive.

I want to thank all the help I got from Sama, Shaz, Marie-Andree, Hamlett, Megan, Lexy, Milla and I think there's a few more but please forgive me, I'm really bad with names.

To have the full effect, please do listen to the 3rd movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata while reading the second section of this.

Warning: This is a part death story. It's a death story yet also with a happy ending. I have no idea how to explain this so I guess you'll just have to read it. MAJOR angst factor so for those who cried while watching Titanic, prepare some Kleenex and have your love ones near you in case you need a hug, if not, a teddy would also do. *bg* Oh, and this is also a slash story. So don't read it if you're not allowed to or don't like it.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Surrender
By Eugenie Chua.

Benton Fraser had thought that it would have been fairly easy for him to fall asleep after the ordeal he had gone through earlier that day. Instead, he was lying awake in his office, listening to the raging storm outside and Diefenbaker snoring beside him.

It had been a similar night when his life was turned upside-down. Rain, thunder, lightning, wind. On that fateful evening, his partner and friend told him that he wanted something more between them, more than the friendship and partnership that they already shared. For some selfish reason, Fraser had rejected his friend. After that, Ray Kowalski had brushed it off and told Fraser to forget about the incident, but that was the one thing Fraser could not do: forget about the flash of sadness that crossed Ray's features as he babbled out his response.

It wasn't that Fraser didn't like Ray; as a matter of fact, the truth couldn't have been further from that; Fraser loved Ray. However Fraser had been hurt and betrayed too many times, and when Ray told him he wanted more than friendship, his protective instinct took over, and he rejected the detective. He was afraid that Ray would leave, like countless others, and he doubted he could survive it.

The incident was never mentioned after that night, and Ray seemed to have forgotten it ever happened. Fraser thought that Ray had gotten over it, that what Ray was feeling was only temporary, and he was right for not getting involved with him. But now, as he lay on his cot, listening to the storm outside, he was beginning to doubt his decision.

Ray had been crying just before he dropped Fraser off at the consulate earlier that night. Throughout his entire investigation to find the truth, Ray was utterly focused, and had seemed to be coping well with the situation. Fraser had not even dreamt that Ray would break down in front of him and cry. This just showed how much, or rather, little, Fraser could read his friend. He couldn't help but wonder if it was just a flash of sadness that he saw, or was there more? Was Ray so good at hiding his feelings that even Fraser couldn't find a clue towards what he really felt?

Fraser knew it would be impossible to sleep the moment that question entered his mind, but what was he going to do? He couldn't possibly ask Ray about... Suddenly a sense of dread overwhelmed him. He could feel that something was very, very wrong, but what? Ray had taught him that, sometimes, one had to trust his instinct...Ray!

Fraser rushed to the phone and tried to contact the detective but to no avail. Something had happened to Ray, he was sure of it. A flash of lightning lit the office up...

* * *

...as the phone on his desk rang.

"Hello?" Fraser grabbed the ringing object, hoping that it was Ray.

"Constable."

No such luck. It was the Inspector, worried that the electrical appliances in the consulate would get damaged by the lightning and requesting that Fraser check them out.

Fraser was only half listening to his superior, wishing for her to finish up whatever she was saying and hang up. He had to get to Ray.

Inspector Thatcher finally hung up after an eternity of ten minutes. Fraser must have broken some world record for the amount of time he made it to Ray's apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that the detective's black GTO was parked in its usual spot. Then why wasn't Ray answering his phone?

No one answered the door as Fraser pounded on the wooden surface. He could hear music in the apartment, so Ray must be at home. He felt a sudden sense of urgency and knew that he had to get into the apartment. With a kick, the door swung open.

His blood turned cold as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the apartment. Some remote part of his mind registering the music as the third movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, half way through.

"Ray!" he cried as he rushed towards the prone figure that sat by the window.

There was blood everywhere, on the chair, soaking the carpet. Ray's blood, Ray's life, still leaking through the wound he had inflicted upon himself. Fraser tried to stop the bleeding, but he knew that his effort was futile. No one could survive such severe blood loss.

In the end, he just cradled the detective in his arms. Ray's eyes opened for a moment, he looked at Fraser, showing him the pain, sadness and...love. Then those lids closed for the last and final time...

"No...Ray..." a mere whisper.

"NO!" Fraser screamed in denial and held the figure closer as the music in the background came to an end.

* * *

...as the phone on his desk rang.

"Hello?" Fraser grabbed the ringing object, hoping that it was Ray.

"Hello? Mary please."

No such luck.

"Sorry. Wrong number," Fraser informed the person at the other end and hung up; no time for politeness, he had to get to Ray.

Fraser must have broken some world record for the amount of time he made it to Ray's apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that the detective's black GTO was parked in its usual spot. Then why wasn't Ray answering his phone?

No one answered the door as Fraser pounded on the wooden surface. He could hear music in the apartment, so Ray must be at home. He felt a sudden sense of urgency and knew that he had to get into the apartment. With a kick, the door swung open.

His blood turned cold as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the apartment. Some remote part of his mind registering the music as the second movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, half way through.

"Ray!" he cried as he rushed towards the prone figure that sat by the window.

A growing pool of blood was soaking the section of carpet where the chair was. Ray's blood, Ray's life, still leaking through the wound he had inflicted upon himself. Fraser tried to stop the blood flow, but the wound was too deep, he could only slow it. After doing what he could, he dialed the emergency number and hoped that the paramedics would arrive in time. Ray was losing so much blood...

The ambulance arrived within minutes, and Ray was rushed to the nearest hospital.

Hang on Ray, hang on. You'll be all right. Everything will be all right, Fraser thought, unaware that he echoed Ray's last thoughts.

* * *

Lieutenant Welsh looked at the Mountie who was sitting at his former detective's desk, eyes staring into space, lost behind walls of grief. Welsh, along with Huey and Dewey, had intercepted the 911 call about three hours ago. When they got to Vecchio's, or rather Kowalski's, apartment, they found blood everywhere and Fraser, covered in blood, cradling Kowalski's cooling body like that of a new born baby, so tenderly, afraid that he might break something.

After they took the body away, Fraser had calmly reported what he saw, without a trace of emotion.

The cause of death was obvious: excessive blood loss. The reason for it was simple, too: suicide. Welsh still couldn't believe that Kowalski was gone, just like that. There was no warning whatsoever that the detective might be going into depression or any signs that might suggest he was suicidal. This was a shock to everyone, especially his parents.

God, was it only three hours ago that all hell had broken loose? It seemed more like three years.

"Fraser," Welsh said. "Go home, clean up and get some rest. You look exhausted."

Fraser looked worse than exhausted; Welsh had never seen the Canadian in this state before, not even after the Victoria incident. The only sign suggesting that the Mountie had heard him was a slight nod. Fraser seemed to be gathering his strength, and a minute later, he stood up and walked out of the precinct, not uttering a single word.

* * *

Lieutenant Welsh had grown to hate the waiting room since he had become a cop. He, along with Huey and Dewey, had intercepted the 911 call Fraser had made and rushed to the hospital as fast as they could. They arrived a minute or two after the ambulance. Now there was nothing he could do but wait.

Fraser had filled him in on what happened. He still couldn't believe that Vecchio, or rather Kowalski, had tried to commit suicide. Why would he do such a stupid thing? Welsh couldn't help but wonder. He knew that if anyone had the answer it would be the Canadian, but Fraser wasn't talking.

He looked at the Mountie, hands and clothes covered with blood, pacing in the waiting room. Welsh had never seen Fraser this restless before, and he could see the worry in his eyes. At the edge of his vision, Welsh noticed Kowalski's parents making their way towards him.

"Lieutenant, how's Ray?" Mr. Kowalski asked.

"We're still waiting for the doctor. Why don't you have a seat?" Welsh replied.

Half an hour later, a doctor finally showed up.

Everybody in the waiting room surrounded the doctor the moment he walked in.

"Are all of you here for Detective Vecchio?" he asked.

"How's my son?" Mrs. Kowalski asked frantically. "Is he all right?"

"It was a close call, but he's fine. It's lucky that you got to him in the time you did, another few minutes..." the doctor trailed off. There was no need for him to say what would have happened if Fraser hadn't gotten there in time.

"Can we see him?" asked Fraser, speaking for the first time since he filled Welsh in on the situation.

"We're transferring him into a room at this time. I'll send someone to get you when he's settled. Don't stay too long though, he needs rest," said the doctor. His pager chose to beep at that moment. "If you'll excuse me."

Fifteen minutes later, Welsh, Fraser, and Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski were in Ray's room. Fraser visibly relaxed the moment he saw the detective.

Ray was asleep. An IV was sticking out of his right arm and he was very pale from the loss of blood, but he was alive and breathing.

* * *

It was raining again. Not a storm, just a drizzle which made it look as though heaven was crying for the loss of a good man, a man who had been loved by so many.

Mrs. Kowalski was sobbing non-stop while Mr. Kowalski tried to comfort her, battling his own grief. Frannie was crying too, and when the coffin was lowered, Stella finally lost her calm facade and broke into a sob. Everybody had tears in their eyes. Everybody except Fraser.

Fraser didn't feel anything, he couldn't feel anything. It was as though he was witnessing a stranger's funeral, not the funeral of the man he loved, because that simply could not be happening. This was just a nightmare, a long nightmare that he'd wake up from to find everybody where they were supposed to be.

Mr. Kowalski approached Fraser when the funeral ended.

"Constable."

"Yes?"

"Ray's apartment needs to be cleared, and I couldn't possibly put his mother through any more of this. Since I need to be with her, I was wondering..." he trailed off, unable to continue.

"I'll take care of that," Fraser replied, knowing what the man was going to say.

"Thank you, Benton," the older man said as he walked away.

* * *

Ray was finally discharged from the hospital after his physical and mental health had cleared the fence. He managed to persuade his parents that he was going to be fine, and with Fraser around him in full mother-hen mode, he didn't doubt it for a second. Besides, his mother needed the rest; she had practically been beside him twenty-four hours a day during his stay in the hospital, and he did not want to exhaust her further.

Fraser managed to get Ray back to his apartment in one piece. The shards of glass and blood on the carpet had already been removed, and there was no evidence of what had happened nearly a week ago. Ray had brushed it off saying that it was just a moment of insane stupidity, and that if he had really wanted to kill himself, a bullet in the brain would have been more efficient in getting the job done. The doctors believed him, but Fraser knew better. Something was still not right.

"Go home Frase, I'll be fine," Ray stated as he settled himself onto the couch and switched on the radio via a remote control he dug out from under the cushions.

"No Ray. I promised your mother that I'd keep an eye on you, so like or not, I'm here to stay," said Fraser, making his intentions clear.

"Fine. Stay all you want. I'm going to bed." With that, Ray stood up, went into his room and shut the door behind him.

Be grateful that he's alive, Fraser told himself as he proceeded to clean up the mess Ray called home.

Just as he was clearing out the fridge an hour later, he noticed a thick notebook that had been left open, lying on the bar counter. He was just about to close it when he saw his name on one of the pages. He was just taking a casual glance when Ray opened his bedroom door and stepped out. His expression changed from casual to fury when he saw what Fraser was doing.

"What the hell are you doin'?!" he spat as he marched towards Fraser and snatched the book.

"Ray..." Fraser tried to explain, but the detective was too hot headed at the moment to listen.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doin'?! You want to stay, fine! But did I ask you to go through my stuff?? No! I did not!"

Fraser knew perfectly well why Ray was so angry. He had just read the innermost thoughts of the person standing right in front of him.

"Ray, it was an accident," Fraser said.

"An accident?! I caught you red-handed and you're tellin' me it was some god damn freakin' accident?! You were reading it by accident? Is that what you're tellin' me? That Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had done somethin' by accident?!" Ray's emotions swung from anger to hysteria then, and within ten seconds he started crying, just like that night in the car...

Fraser put his hand on Ray's shoulder, trying to comfort him, but Ray moved away. He tried again, and this time Ray didn't give too much of a fight. Fraser did the only thing that came to mind, the only thing that he could do: he hugged Ray. The other man stiffened at the physical contact, but relaxed a moment later.

"Shh...everything's going to be all right," Fraser whispered, and this time he believed it. Everything was going to be all right.

Even though he had only taken a casual glance at the page, he had seen enough to know that everything was going to turn out fine...

"Now, there's only me...I love you Fraser," was the phrase he had accidentally read.

"Shh..." Fraser said as he rubbed Ray's back to comfort him. "Everything's going to be all right."

He felt Ray shaking his head and then heard his muffled voice, "No, Frase, everything's not all right!" More tears. A minute later, the tears subsided and Ray pulled away from Fraser, not looking him in the eye.

With a hand still on Ray's shoulder, he lifted his chin up with the other so Ray was looking into his eyes. "I love you," Fraser whispered.

The song in the background was oddly fitting: "I want to give no reason to touch your perfect face..."

Ray closed his eyes as he heard Fraser say those three little words. He did not believe it. The only response he could give was, "What?"

"I love you," Fraser repeated. This time Ray heard it clear enough.

"Damn you Fraser! Damn you!" Ray exclaimed as he felt tears in his eyes again. Don't cry. You've done enough of that already! But his heart seemed to be ignoring his brain and the tears fell anyway. "Damn you Fraser," He said again, this time softly.

"I know. I'm sorry, Ray. I'm really sorry." Ray felt rather than heard Fraser say those words. Since when did he get so close? his mind wondered as Fraser's lips brushed against his cheek. "I'm so sorry." This next sentence was followed by a tender kiss on the lips. He had wanted this for so long, so, so long...

"Damn you, Frase...I love you."

"I know." Another kiss and Ray surrendered completely to the man before him.

* * *

Someone had cleared up the blood and the pieces of glass that had once littered the carpeted floor, but other than that, the place was still the same. Typical Ray mess.

Fraser went through Ray's belongings and put them into boxes that would later be delivered to his parents. He was clearing the kitchen when he spotted a thick notebook on the bar counter, opened in the middle. He closed the book without a second glance, but then something inside him told him that whatever was in the book was important.

He picked it up and opened it.

It was Ray's journal. He hadn't known that Ray kept a journal. As a matter of fact, he didn't know much at all about Ray's personal life, and now, he wasn't there anymore for him to ask.

The significance of that last thought hit Fraser in the face. Ray's dead...

"No..." Fraser choked as he willed himself not to cry and to read on.

The day before Ray told him he wanted more than simple friendship...

"Oh Ray...I didn't know, I'm so sorry..." Fraser said softly.

Suddenly, the apartment seemed too quiet, he couldn't stand it any longer. Fraser switched on the radio, not caring which station it was tuned to. He just needed something to fill the empty space..."They say everything must die, for a new life to begin. In the season of our love, I feel the winter setting in..."

His sight blurred as Fraser read the last entry in Ray's journal, written on the night of his death, the night Fraser found him and held him in his arms as he closed his eyes for the last time, eyes that reflected the pain, sadness and love he felt. He could still feel Ray's body in his arms during those last minutes, getting colder...

Tears began to stream down his face uncontrollably as he closed the book and sank to the floor, the exact same spot where Ray had died, in his arms.

"I love you too Ray. I love you too..." he cried as he clutched the journal against his heart. But it was too late, Ray would never know...

And the singer on the radio sang on: "Through this bitter, bitter cold I'd always thought that I have you to hold me, hold me through the storm and keep me warm through this bitter, bitter cold..."

THE END