This version is improved from the version originally posted to RSY and to Hexwood. Thanks to Shrift for pointing out that my punctuation wasn't showing up correctly in some browsers.
SPOILERS: CoTW (very mild), Seeing Is Believing, and other general spoilers.
TIMELINE: Six months after CoTW
RATING: PG-13

"Lead me not into temptation
Heaven help me to be strong
I can fight all that I'm feeling
But I can't do it alone
Help me break this spell that I'm under
Guide my feet and hold me tight
I need ten thousand angels
Watching over me tonight" -- "Ten Thousand Angels", Mindy McCready

The country music twanged around Frannie as she leaned on the bar and watched the crowd. With the ease of long habit, she answered a question her friend Laura posed, laughed at a joke her other friend, Trina, made at Laura's expense, all without taking her eyes off the men in the room. Tonight was their usual "girl's night out", and though Frannie wasn't expecting anyone, she hoped that one person wouldn't show up.

"Who you looking for, Frannie?" Trina teased her. "That Mountie again?"

Frannie slid her gaze over to the slender, African-American woman who stood beside her. "No," she told Trina with a disgusted sigh.

"You think he'd walk in here?"

"Like you wouldn't just cream in your panties if he did," Laura interjected.

"Laura!" Frannie pretended shock and stared accusingly at the red haired woman on her left. "Bite your tongue."

Laura laughed gustily. "Me, I'd take your brother," she told them.

"He doesn't even know you exist," Trina reminded Laura.

"So?" Laura shot back. "I can fix that ... as soon as Frannie here lets us know when Ray's home. If he just happened to be at the house when I'm there ... just once, when I'm ready for him ... I mean, come on, everyone knows he's not with that lawyer bitch anymore. He's gotta date again sometime. Why not me?"

"Not on your life," Frannie said firmly. "You can have Ray Kowalski, but not my brother."

"Ooh," Laura pounced, "something wrong with the brother who isn't your brother but was for a while?"

"Nothing's wrong," Frannie said, but even in her own ears, the words lacked conviction. She turned her back to the crowd to order a new drink.

"Uh huh, sure," Trina responded, unconvinced.

Not for the first time, Frannie wondered what it would be like to have friends who didn't know everything about her. Laura and Trina had been her best friends since third grade; they had few secrets between them.

"Something's up," Laura agreed.

"Speak of the devil," Trina announced suddenly. "Isn't that Ray?"

Laura turned to see who Trina was talking about. "Oh, not him," she said dismissively. "I don't want him."

Frannie's heart leapt into her throat. Damn it, not tonight.

"No, silly," Trina chided Laura, "I meant Frannie's Ray."

"He is not my Ray," Frannie insisted, picking up her drink and turning around.

"He's headed this way," Trina informed them.

"You want me to cover for you?" Laura asked with unexpected perception.

"No, that's okay," Frannie decided. "I gotta face him sometime."

It didn't take long for Ray to cross the crowded floor. Somehow, his quick arrival panicked Frannie, and she fought the urge to run screaming for the women's restroom or the nearest exit, whichever was closer.

She didn't understand the urge. A year and a half ago, he was just the cop the department had sent to protect her brother's identity, someone she quickly grew to find just as thoroughly annoying as her brother. She'd noted his raw beauty with all the interest of someone who knew he was on the menu, but was too caught up in having what she'd seen as the house specialty. As time had worn on, she'd seen the tender, caring man, yet still her thoughts had been focused on someone who seemed oblivious to her attempts at seduction. To realize suddenly that she wanted Ray -- well, that was more than a little disconcerting.

He grinned at her. "Thought I might find you here." He gave her body a raking gaze, taking in the low-cut black dress she wore, and smiling appreciatively.

"Well, you found me." The words sounded inane, but Frannie couldn't think of anything else to say. Her eyes drank in the sight of him, and she had to fight her overwhelming need to be close to him. How or when the attraction had developed between them, she wasn't sure, but sometime in the past week, she'd noticed him watching her intently when he thought she wasn't looking.

"You're looking good tonight," he complimented her as the music changed to something slow and sensual. "Care to dance?"

The world narrowed to just them. Frannie found herself praying silently for strength. She knew Ray in a way she knew she had never really gotten to know another guy she'd been attracted to, and the difference weighed heavily on her mind. He was the first man she'd ever fallen for who she considered to be a friend first, and she didn't want to lose that friendship. It had become far more important to her than she was willing to admit. She wasn't even sure of the reason why it was important, only that it was, and that she needed it.

"C'mon, it's easy. I lead, you follow," Ray coaxed, taking her hand. As if hypnotized, Frannie let herself be led out onto the dance floor.

"Okay, okay," she registered a belated protest, "one dance."

Ray cocked his head slightly. "Whatever you say, Frannie."

He was an excellent dancer, and Frannie soon forgot to be nervous. His arms felt strong as they guided her around the dance floor. Unconsciously, she closed the distance between them and leaned her head against his shoulder as the song imprinted itself on her brain. Something electric was building up between them, as she became more aware of the feel of his lean, wiry body against hers. She closed her eyes, wishing suddenly that being in Ray's arms didn't seem so right. She was falling, losing herself in the moment, and relishing the way he made her feel as they danced.

The song ended, and Frannie opened her eyes to find that Ray still held her close. They stood on the edge of the dance floor, half-hidden in the shadows. With a sudden shock, she realized he looked as if he was about to kiss her.

She took a deep breath and licked her lips, hypnotized by the look of desire in his eyes.

"Frannie?" he asked.

Some part of her wanted to refuse. They were just friends, and she was in love with Fraser. Wasn't she?

But that doesn't mean you couldn't just find out what Ray was like as a kisser, the voice of her devil's advocate said insinuatingly. Besides, Fraser's never acted like he's been the slightest bit interested in you, despite all your efforts.

She found herself nodding in agreement. Almost instantly, his arms came around her, drawing her close against his chest. His mouth hovered over hers for a moment, and a thrill of anticipation shot through her. Then his lips covered hers in a kiss that stole her breath away. Needing to breathe, she parted her lips unconsciously, and he took the opportunity to take the kiss deeper.

Startled by the brush of his tongue, Frannie broke the kiss. She noted his breathing was just as heavy as hers, and could only stare at him.

Unnerved by the intimacy, Frannie took a step back. "I -- I'd better get going," she blabbered. She turned and fled before he could say anything to stop her.

She didn't see him for a couple of days afterward; he'd even skipped Sunday dinner at the house, which he'd rarely missed since her mother had insisted he was still a part of the family. Some part of her was glad for that, while another wondered if he was just avoiding her. She was almost to the point of being miffed at the latter idea when she heard from Welsh that Ray had been on a stakeout all weekend, and wouldn't be back at the station until Wednesday. Since it was now Tuesday, the news instantly sent her into a tizzy, as she alternated between worrying about whether or not Ray would say anything to her and telling herself that she didn't care.

Wednesday came. Frannie made sure to be careful with her choice of apparel that morning, feeling like she was putting on a kind of armor. She spent an inordinate amount of time trying to choose between outfits. Realizing this, she immediately berated herself for thinking Ray would notice, and then for even wanting him to notice. Finally, in a fit of frustration, she threw on a uniform top and a black skirt, having tossed out everything else as unsuitable. Drawing a deep breath, she prayed silently for strength to get her through the day.

As luck would have it, Ray didn't come in that day. At first, Frannie tried to tell herself it was better that she didn't have to face him first thing in the morning. The requests from the other detectives in the department kept her occupied through lunch, and she was surprised to look at her watch and realize it was nearly two p.m. She glanced at Ray's desk, and didn't see him there. His absence left her with an inexplicable feeling of emptiness.

Quit being so stupid, she chastised herself. You don't want Ray.

Then why do you keep thinking about his kiss? a sly voice in her head whispered.

That, of course, sent her thoughts right back down memory lane. Dreamily, she sighed and leaned her chin in her hand, forgetting about the work she was supposed to be doing, forgetting that she wasn't supposed to be thinking about how good of a kisser Ray was.

"Hey, Frannie, I need you to lock lips with me," a voice cut into her thoughts.

Frannie blinked. It took her a second to realize that the man of her daydreams was standing impatiently in front of her desk, and that what she'd thought she'd heard wasn't what he'd said. She could feel the heat staining her cheeks as she tried to pull her scattered thoughts together.

"What -- what did you say?" she stammered.

"Geez, Frannie --" Ray began. He stopped himself, then began again. "I asked if you wanted to have dinner with me."

"Like now?" Frannie hated the way she sounded like an idiot, even to her own ears, but the circuitry to her brain seemed shorted out with Ray's unexpected proximity. "I mean, maybe not now now, but--"

Ray smiled. "It's after five, Frannie. Why not now?"

"Um--" Frannie's mind went blank. She took a deep breath and tried to remind herself that Ray was a friend, and there was no good reason not to have dinner with a friend. She could do this. Yet the way Ray was looking at her now made her think that dinner wasn't really on his mind. It had been a long time since anyone had looked her like she was an attractive, desirable woman. Frannie felt the power of that look all the way to her toes.

Ray seemed to know it too. Some part of her wondered at his confidence.

If I say no, he'll be devastated, she thought. He doesn't take rejection well.

She looked at him, and knew she couldn't say no. God, I am so confused. He's a friend. I'm not supposed to think he's attractive!'

Yet she did.

"Good," he said, not giving her a chance to refuse. "Ma called, said to make sure you ate since it's her bingo night and she's not cooking dinner."

Frannie's heart plummeted at his words. He wasn't interested in her; he was just playing out the role of protective brother, which he continued to do despite the fact that he didn't have to be that way. She surmised that his confidence had to stem from the fact that he knew she wasn't about to risk her mother's disappointment (and the ensuing lecture) over something as simple as a dinner request. It didn't matter that she could lie and say she had another invitation; somehow, her mother would find out that she hadn't gone to dinner with Ray, and she wouldn't hear the end of it.

"I can fend for myself," she protested. "I do know how to drive myself to a restaurant."

"Okay, then," Ray agreed readily. "You drive your car, and I'll follow you in mine."

Caught by the logic of that, Frannie surrendered. It's just dinner, she told herself, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her at the prospect of dinner with Ray.

When they got to the parking lot, Frannie discovered that her old clunker wouldn't start. After several attempts at jumpstarting it, Ray diagnosed a problem with the starter, and suggested they leave the car until Frannie could take it to a garage to get the part replaced. Hating the fact she was essentially stranded, Frannie reluctantly got into Ray's GTO.

Frannie was nervous throughout dinner. Trying to hide her jitters, she babbled on about the events of the Vecchio household, catching Ray up on what he'd missed Sunday. Ray let her, interjecting an observation here and there as if everything was normal, yet she knew his eyes watched her steadily.

Still, he made no move towards her. He was unusually courteous in opening doors for her, but Frannie decided that that had more to do with the fact that being around Mr. Ultra-Polite had to rub off sometime than the suspicion she had that Ray was trying to treat her special.

He pulled up to the driveway of the Vecchio house and parked the car. He got out, opened the door for her, and waited for her to stand.

"Thanks for dinner, Ray," she told him, straightening out her skirt and putting her purse strap more firmly on her shoulder. She didn't dare look at him.

He smiled crookedly. "No problem," he answered. He paused. "Frannie?"

"What?" She made the mistake of looking at him.

He was standing so close to her, all he had to do was tilt her chin slightly to drop a kiss on her lips. The gentle touch scorched fire through her veins, and she trembled. Feeling her response, he deepened the kiss slightly. She raised her hands to push him away, only to find them grasping his shoulders for balance. His tongue followed the curve of her lip, and she sighed as it slid between her teeth. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't fight. His hands roved her body, pressing her closer. Instinctively, she arched up against him.

A dog down the street barked, startling them both out of their sensual haze.

Almost reluctantly, Ray ended the kiss, staring at her with eyes dark with passion. "This isn't the place," he muttered, taking a step back.

"We--we could go inside," Frannie started, one hand rising to point toward her bedroom.

For a moment, he looked tempted. Then he looked scared.

Almost at the same instant, they spoke.

"No privacy," they chorused, and chuckled.

Their shared laughter died quickly as they stared at each other. The moment was fading, and both of them knew it. Doubts were beginning to creep in, and Frannie wasn't sure how to stop them.

"I'd--I'd better get going," Ray said at last, gesturing awkwardly to his car. "I, uh, I'll pick you up in the morning."

Frannie nodded. "Good night, Ray." Not trusting herself to avoid doing something incredibly stupid like jump into the car, she turned away and headed into the house. She shut the front door and leaned against it, listening to the distinctive roar of Ray's GTO as he started it up and backed it out of the driveway. To her ears, it sounded like some part of her heart was leaving.

You read one too many romance books, she chided herself and resolutely moved to her room. Yet she couldn't help pausing at the bottom of the stairs and looking back, as if somehow by doing so, she could will Ray's immediate return. Unconsciously, she touched her lips, wondering how it was that she'd never felt this wanted until Ray had kissed her.

Suddenly, a voice broke into her thoughts. "Where you been, Frannie?"

Instantly ashamed, she dropped her hand from her mouth and turned to face her brother.

"Ray!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" She knew her brother had moved out of the house some months earlier into an apartment of his own and, after a short-lived affair with Stella, was now working as a police consultant.

He ignored her question. "What the hell do you think you're doing with Stan?"

"What? You a Peeping John now or something?"

"That's 'Peeping Tom,' Frannie, and no, I'm not one. I was watching for you. Fraser called from the station, said he saw your car in the parking lot and didn't see you or Stan around, and he got worried."

Frannie rolled her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. A few days ago, she would have been ready to pull out the fireworks and throw a party at the mere mention of Fraser thinking of her welfare. Now that concern was just another piece of the annoyance she felt towards her brother. She looked at Ray, irked by the implication that she couldn't take care of herself. When will he ever see me as grown-up? she wondered with rising irritation. "The starter's shot, and I'm fine."

"Fine?" Ray's voice rose with the question. "Fine?" he repeated, gesturing wildly, narrowly missing her nose. "Frannie, what I saw out there on the driveway was not 'fine'."

"What's your problem, Ray?" Frannie shot back. "You didn't want me mooning over Fraser, you hated my last boyfriend, and now you catch me kissing someone else, you don't like it?"

"That's not just someone else, that's Stanley Kowalski." The way Ray said the other man's name turned it into an insult.

Frannie's eyes narrowed, hearing the unspoken slander. Forgetting that she was still uncertain about her feelings for Ray Kowalski, she rose like a tigress to defend him.

"His name," she enunciated carefully, "is Ray. Or Stan, if you insist on being different. I thought you liked him. You said he was an all right kinda guy, even if he didn't know how to dress up in those stuffy suits you like to wear."

Her brother's eyes flashed. "This isn't about my clothes," he snapped. "This is about Stanley."

"Whose ex-wife you almost married. So?" Angrily, Frannie stomped up the stairs to her bedroom, knowing her brother would follow in her wake.

Ray caught up to her in time for her to try to shut the door on him. Easily defeating the effort, he stepped into her room and shut the door behind him. "We're not talking about Stella, we're talking about you. And him."

Annoyed, Frannie flung herself onto her bed. "He took me to dinner. That's all."

"He kissed you, Frannie."

"No shit, ex-Detective brother of mine. Is that why they gave you a pretty gold badge to carry around? So you could play snoop into your little sister's life? Or now that you're a hotshot police consultant, you think you're entitled to give out free advice?"

"Frannie --"

"Look, I don't understand why you have such a big problem with him. You're friends. Ma likes him. He did a pretty good job of taking care of the family while you were out playing Mr. Bigshot Mob Guy, and he's kind, gentle, and smarter than anybody gives him credit for."

"He's not good enough for you."

"Oh, and who is?" Frannie launched herself off the bed and crossed the room to stand in front of her brother. "Who's good enough for your little sister? The Pope?"

She looked up into Ray's eyes and, finding her answer in them, snorted in disgust. "Thought so. No one is, so you'd rather I live alone?"

"That's not what I meant. I just don't want you hurt." He grabbed her when she would've turned and walked away.

Frannie sighed. "In case you haven't noticed, life isn't a bed of posies, and I'm a grown woman. I can handle Ray."

"You sure?" Her brother placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her anxiously.

"I'm sure," she said firmly, even as she wondered whether or not she was telling the truth. She mentally crossed her fingers and made a note to go to confession as soon as possible.

"Cos if you ever need me--"

"I know where to find you," she told him gently. "Now that you know I'm all right, will you go tell Fraser I'm okay?"

Ray took a lingering look at her. Apparently satisfied, he turned for the door. His hand was on the knob before he stopped and turned around.

"Just answer me this question. Are you in love with him?"

"Who? Fraser?"

"No, the Easter Bunny," Ray countered with affectionate exasperation. "The guy you were lip-locked with."

Frannie took a deep breath, feeling suddenly older than her years. She could see in her brother's expression the reflected scars of one too many dragons slain in the name of love, and felt an answering echo in her own soul. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "Maybe."

Brother and sister looked at each other for a long moment. Then Ray nodded his acceptance, and left.

Alone, Frannie stepped to the window, and stared out to the night, wondering what in the world she was doing. Then she saw Ray's car leave the driveway, and panicked. 

Frannie fluttered around the room helplessly, unable to think straight for the panic filling her head. At first, she couldn't find her keys. She was halfway down the stairs before she remembered that she didn't have a car. Swearing, she raced back up the stairs just in time to run smack into her brother-in-law. As a result, she nearly took a tumble down the stairs, helped along by Tony's fumbling attempt to catch her. Only her own wild grab for the banister saved her.

"You idiot," she hissed at Tony. "I could've broken my neck thanks to you."

"Hey, I wasn't the one running from a fire," Tony shot back.

"Oh, like you just had to be right where I was going, huh?" Frannie snapped as she recovered her balance. "Now get out of my way, you big doofus."

Not waiting for his reply, she shoved him out of her way and sailed regally into her bedroom. As she entered the room, her eyes lit on the phone on her dresser. Without hesitation, she snatched the instrument off the dresser and began dialing.

Across town, Ray Kowalski was wondering if he'd just stepped into some other universe, if he was dreaming, and if what had had happened wasn't a figment of his imagination. Frannie had shocked him by responding to his kisses; she'd successfully rebuffed him before, but that had been back when he was pretending to be her brother. It had been easy to accept her rejection then; the flirtation had been an automatic reflex, more out of habit than anything else.

Or had it been? he wondered now. He sighed tiredly and hung his head in his hands.

He wasn't an expert at relationships. For most of his life, there had been Stella and ... well, Stella. No one could replace her in his heart, and yet ... there was Frannie. He was very much afraid of falling in love with the Italian-American, and half-afraid that he was already was. He closed his eyes, remembering how she felt in his arms.

He hoped he could dance with her again. Then he started thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Just when he had himself nearly convinced not to ask Frannie out again, the phone rang.

His heart leapt into his throat and for a moment, he couldn't think. The phone rang again.

He started to reach for it just as a knock resounded at the door.

Torn, he hesitated, then made a snap decision. Grabbing the phone as he walked to the door, he answered, "Kowalski."

"Ray!" Frannie sounded breathless. "I think my brother is on his way over. He saw us."

Ray groaned and reconsidered answering the door. He took a second to check the peephole and breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's okay, Frannie," he told her. "Fraser's here."

"Oh, good!"

"Listen, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

He could hear Frannie's smile as she answered, "Okay. Don't let Fraser get you hurt."

Ray chuckled. "I'll do my best," he promised, and, hanging up the phone, opened the door.

"What's up, Fraser?" he asked, gesturing for the other man to enter.

"I was just wondering if you'd seen Francesca."

Not as much of her as I'd like to, Ray thought, and barely stopped himself before saying the words aloud. "Yeah, I saw her. Took her home, as a matter of fact. Why?"

"Ah," Fraser nodded in understanding. "She's all right, then."

Ray stared at him, baffled. "Why do you care, Fraser?" he asked slowly. "I mean, you never paid her much attention before."

"She is a friend," Fraser replied. "I stopped by the station to give you a copy of the report from the Brubaker case, and I didn't see either of you. When I went to parking garage to see if you had already left, I saw Francesca's car, unlocked, and I thought perhaps she'd had car trouble."

Ray exhaled, reassured by Fraser's words. The last thing he needed now was for Fraser to wake up to Frannie's appeal. "She has a problem with her starter. I'm thinking if she doesn't get it towed to a repair shop, I'll get her a new one and work on it this weekend for her." And maybe her brother won't kill me for taking advantage of a situation.

"I see," Fraser murmured. "Then, if you have everything under control, perhaps I should be going."

Ray looked at him. Not for the first time, he marveled at the lengths Fraser would go to for a friend. "You walked all the way here just to make sure Frannie was okay?"

"Well, you and Francesca both, yes."

"Fraser, you're a freak." Ray smiled, easing the sting out of his words. "But thanks."

"You're welcome. Good night, Ray."

"Good night, Fraser."

The Mountie was nearly at the door before Ray spoke, stopping him. "One question."

"What is it, Ray?"

"How come you never paid any attention to Frannie?"

Fraser turned more fully to face his friend. "She is Ray's sister," Fraser reminded him. "Furthermore, I have paid attention to her on numerous occasions."

Ray bit back the almost automatic reflex to be annoyed with Fraser. After three months in the wilds of Canada with no one but Fraser, Diefenbaker, and a pack of sled dogs for company, Ray had figured out that sometimes, Fraser was deliberately obtuse. Despite being armed with this knowledge, Ray had yet to discern just when Fraser was consciously being simple-minded.

"No, I meant like how come you never noticed she was always flirting with you and stuff and never took her up on it?"

Now Fraser looked uncomfortable, and Ray sighed.

"Never mind."

"Ray, I cannot ignore a question you have asked of me. It was obviously important to you, and although I willingly admit that I am not comfortable providing you with an answer at this time, I--"

"I said forget it, Fraser," Ray interrupted, suddenly tired of the question. "Good night."

Fraser studied him a moment, as if he was about to say something, then he changed his mind. "Good night, Ray," he repeated, and left.

Alone once more, Ray took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. Though not a particularly religious man, he sent up a silent prayer that he would have no other visitors that night. He wasn't entirely sure he could handle Ray Vecchio, not when he was wondering why Frannie would give up her pursuit of someone like Fraser for someone like him. Ray's mind was a crazy goulash of hope, desire, and fear as he thought about Frannie's responses to him.

Still, he'd always been one to go with his instincts, and he didn't think Frannie had been faking when she'd kissed him back. That belief kept Ray going through the night as he waited for someone to come knocking on his door, demanding to know what he was doing with Frannie. It was a long time before Ray fell asleep.

If anything, Frannie was more nervous about getting ready for work than she was the morning before. She agonized over what to wear to the point she was actually still in her bathrobe when her sister called up, "Get your ass downstairs, Francesca! Ray's here!"

Swearing, Frannie hurried to look out the window. She could see Ray's GTO in the driveway, and swore again. Aware that, even with Ray's penchant for lateness, Welsh would not be happy if they were both late, she grabbed the first things that she could get a hold of and dressed hurriedly. A glance at the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door made her curse again, as she realized she wasn't color-coordinated. Quickly, she reached into her closet to swap skirts and find the right hue of turquoise shoes.

A knock on the door resounded, followed by Ray's voice. "Frannie, are you ready?"

"Gimme a minute, okay?" Frannie called. She squirmed into the skirt, glad that there was such a thing as control top pantyhose, and prayed the button on the skirt would hold. Slipping on the shoes, she shut her closet door and then went to meet Ray.

"Good morning," she said brightly.

He grinned at her, then surveyed her appreciatively. His eyes dropped to her lips, then met hers. Instantly, Frannie knew he wanted to kiss her, but wouldn't with the possibility of someone interrupting them. Heat rose to flush her cheeks.

"Now it is," he told her, his grin widening. "Come on, we're gonna be late. Pitter patter, let's get at 'er." Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Not that I don't want to stay here and do something else."

Flustered, Frannie let herself be led downstairs, barely remembering to grab her purse before she found herself in the passenger seat of the GTO.

Halfway to the precinct, Frannie recalled her frantic phone call of the night before. "Did my brother ... .?"

Ray glanced at her. "Naw, he never showed up."

Frannie sighed in relief. "Maybe he's gonna be okay with this," she murmured.

"Maybe," Ray agreed, but he didn't sound too convinced. Changing the subject, he brought up the suggestion he'd thought of regarding her car, and she quickly agreed.

The rest of the day passed in its normal confusion, though Frannie caught herself more than once looking for Ray. He'd been assigned a new case by Welsh that morning, and consequently, was out researching leads for it. Around lunchtime, her brother came in, but he wasn't the Ray she wanted to see.

"Oh, it's you," she pronounced, sighing in disappointment.

"What?" Ray Vecchio protested. "Suddenly I'm not good enough company for lunch? I came in just to take my little sister to lunch, and you're saying no?"

"Amazing, isn't it?" She slid her gaze past him, looking hopefully towards the door.

"Oh, come on, Frannie," Ray griped, rolling his eyes. He glanced over to the IN/OUT board on the wall and, after reading it, added, "He's out in the field. He'll be lucky if he remembers to eat today."

Frannie's hopes fell at her brother's knowing words. "So?" she challenged stubbornly.

"So, come on, let's go."

"I'm not hungry." She looked at her brother and sighed. "What? You gonna tell Ma I skipped lunch?"

"If that's what it takes for you to have lunch with me --"

"Geez, Ray, what is this? First grade?" Frannie retorted, disgusted. "Go away, I have work to do." She ignored the growling of her stomach and turned studiously towards the pile of paperwork on her desk.

She felt her brother's gaze on her. Pretending not to notice, she picked up a file and opened to begin processing the data. Praying silently that he wasn't paying attention to her typing, she began hammering keys at random. After what seemed an excruciatingly long time, she dared to look up.

Ray's eyes were troubled as he looked at her. The part of her that had always wanted her brother to be proud of her felt instantly guilty. He's been through so many changes lately ... having his cover blown, getting shot, falling for that bitch Stella, moving out into his own place, and now I'm probably disappointing him again, like I always do. Why can't I do anything right? "Ray?" she asked in a small voice.

He shook his head. "It's nothing," he told her.

Something cold settled into Frannie's stomach with those words. "Ray?" she asked again, fear creeping into her voice.

Her brother looked past her, and she half-turned in time to catch a glimpse of the man she wanted to see. "Guess you got lucky today," Ray said, but there was no warmth in his voice. "I'll see you Saturday at the house." He moved towards the door before she could stop him.

"What's up with him?" the other Ray in Frannie's life questioned as he came to a stop before her desk, his body angled to watch her brother leave without acknowledging anyone in his path. "He pissed at both of us now or what?"

Worriedly, Frannie bit a fingernail before she could stop herself. "I don't know."

Tasting nail polish on her tongue, she looked at her hand, horrified she'd just ruined a fifteen-dollar manicure. She raised her eyes to meet Ray's, and the comment she'd been about to make died in her throat.

Ray looked positively terrified.

"Ray. He's not going to kill you," Frannie said impatiently, standing up and hustling him out of the squad room and into the hallway with an efficiency that, on any other day, would have surprised her. As it was, it surprised Ray enough that he was reeling by the time they reached the hallway.

"Whoa, Frannie, wait a minute," Ray protested belatedly. "Now, you just said you didn't know if your brother was upset with both of us or not, and you expect me not to be a little nervous about this?"

"Nervous?" Frannie scoffed. "You looked scared, Ray."

"I wasn't--I am not afraid of your brother or anyone." Ray looked at her, seeing her with her arms crossed, disbelief etched into her stance. "Well," he amended quickly, "maybe Ma when she gets riled up about somethin', but ... "

He took a deep breath, and then asked, "You wanna go to lunch? I don't wanna talk about this here." He jerked his head towards a couple of police officers who'd walked past with more than a passing interest.

As if suddenly realizing where they were, Frannie blinked and looked around. "Uh, yeah, I guess that would be a good idea, huh? I mean, this is where we both work and all." She favored him with a shy, lopsided smile.

That smile, more than anything, eased Ray's tension. He grinned, relaxing for the first time since he'd walked into the squad room and seen Ray Vecchio with Frannie. "You in the mood for Chinese?"

It didn't take them long to reach the nearest Chinese restaurant. After telling the server they both wanted the buffet, neither moved for the tempting expanse of food, but stared at each other. For two people known for incessant chatter, the silence between them could have been something for the record books, had any of their friends been there to witness it.

"Ray--"

"Frannie--"

Realizing they'd broken the silence at the same time, they laughed.

"You first," Ray offered, gesturing.

Frannie toyed with a napkin and bent her head. "It's silly, you know," she began, glancing at the man who sat on the other side of the cramped booth. "It's not like we're not adults and don't know what we're doing. I mean, I was married, you were married--"

"You were married?" Ray asked, surprised.

"I thought you knew that," she remarked, frowning.

Now that Ray thought about it, he remembered. "Oh, yeah, sorry."

Frannie smiled, though he could detect a shadow of the painful memory he'd invoked in her eyes. No one talked about what happened to Frannie's first marriage. At the moment, Ray wasn't altogether certain that he cared. For the moment, it was enough that she was with him, and not her ex-husband.

Suddenly, it didn't matter that Ray Vecchio was probably going to yell, demand, and generally whine about what Ray Kowalski was going to do with Frannie. For the first time in a long time, the blond-haired detective wanted to make a woman happy -- and that woman wasn't Stella or someone he'd tried to pick up. He knew Frannie, and trusted her instinctively.

So why the hell am I still scared? he wondered, barely managing to stop himself from pounding the table in frustration.

Then he looked at Frannie, and knew.

Because you trust her, he answered himself. Reaching across the table, he took Frannie's hand. She seemed startled and pleased by the contact, and he took it to be a good sign.

"Look," he began, "I don't know where this is gonna lead us or anything. I don't wanna screw things up if all we're doing is what two lonely people do when there's nobody else around." He took a deep breath and exhaled it quickly. "I saw you talking to Fraser in the squad room a few weeks ago, and you were wearing this blue dress. I dunno, I just looked at you, and I remembered you weren't my 'sister' anymore. It just hit me, you know?"

Frannie nodded, her eyes wide. She remembered that dress; it was one of her oldest and least favored dresses. At the time she'd last worn it, she'd been ruing her choice of attire as being completely inappropriate for flirting with Fraser. Now she knew she would treasure that blue dress forever.

"I didn't think you'd be interested. I mean, you were so hot for Fraser, and me ... well, I know what I look like. You, you're so beautiful, you could have anyone you wanted."

"Oh, Ray," Frannie protested softly, reaching across the table to grasp his other hand. "Listen to me. I don't care about anyone else. I mean, look at me. I go through all the trouble of making sure I look nice and reading all the magazines to make sure I know what guys want, and you think someone would notice me before now?" She shook her head and smiled ruefully. "I was beginning to think I was invisible, and not just to Fraser."

"I noticed," Ray reminded her.

She glowed at that, basking in the feeling of being attractive to someone, especially since that someone was Ray. That spark faded somewhat, however, as reality returned and she remembered why they were sitting in the restaurant. "You okay with this? I mean, not that I don't want you, I do want you, but I don't want to mess things up. You know what I mean?" Her brown eyes pleaded with him for comprehension.

Ray nodded. "I know." He started to say more, but then his cell phone rang.

Hearing the shrill summons emanating from his jacket pocket, Frannie let go of his hands. The loss of contact made him feel as though he'd stepped into an unexpectedly cold day. Sighing, Ray reluctantly pulled out the phone from his pocket and answered it.

"Kowalski." He listened for a minute, grunted in agreement, then hung up. Turning to Frannie, he opened his mouth to apologize for having to cut their conversation short, but she waved him off.

"It's okay, Ray," she said gently. "I probably should getting back anyway."

He glanced at his watch and smiled ruefully. "Yeah," he agreed, and at that, they both slid out of the booth.

Frannie began walking forward, with Ray close behind her. Instinctively, he placed a hand in the small of Frannie's back to guide her through the aisles towards the door. Frannie glanced over her shoulder at him at the touch, and he quickly removed his hand, fearing she didn't like it.

She stopped walking and looked at him, puzzled. "Why'd you do that for?"

"I thought maybe you--" He faltered at her smile. "Okay, gotcha." He put his hand back, and they began walking again.

Meanwhile, a very troubled Ray Vecchio sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on the case he was supposed to be helping the department solve. Though it was one of the more interesting of the pile of long-open-but-still-unsolved cases on his plate at the moment, Ray could only think about his sister. He wasn't sure what bothered him more: the fact that she was seeing someone he knew, or that for the first time, he was seeing her as a woman in her own right.

Ray hated change with a passion, and the past six months hadn't been easy for him. He'd barely had time to digest the fact that Frannie had taken Elaine's place at the station before Stella had distracted him. Even now, Ray wasn't sure if he'd fallen more in love with the idea of being with someone who didn't see him as Armando or if he'd really been in love with Stella. He supposed he'd never know for sure.

Yet somehow, Ray had the sense that what Frannie was feeling for Stan was real. Though Ray would never admit it aloud, he was jealous. His little sister was falling in love. More than that, he was angry with himself for being jealous. He didn't want to begrudge Frannie's happiness, knowing how she'd suffered in her first marriage, but still ... he couldn't help asking, "God, why not me?"

Hating the circular line his thoughts were taking, Ray picked up a case file and forced himself to concentrate on something other than the self-pity filling his head.

That resolve lasted all of thirty seconds. He flipped open the manila folder, and in the process, the top edge of the folder brushed the gold-framed photo on his desk. Ray knew it had been taken at the annual Memorial Day family picnic, though he couldn't recall who'd taken the picture. For the first time, Ray noticed that while Fraser had managed to put some distance between himself and Frannie, Stan had thrown an arm around Frannie, and she was smiling up at the blond-haired man. As Ray remembered it, he'd been too busy bemoaning the fact that he'd accidentally sat on his favorite pair of sunglasses that morning, and too relieved that Frannie wasn't bothering Fraser for at least the length of time that it had taken for the photograph. Now Ray picked up the picture and stared at it, seeing only the proof that his sister was happier than he was.

Oh, grow up, Ray, he told himself firmly. All you've ever wanted is for Frannie to be happy, and now here's a shot with someone you trust, all you can do is whine about how jealous of her shot at happiness you are. Some supportive brother you are.

Feeling thoroughly self-chastened, Ray drew a deep breath and plunged into the case before him.

Frannie looked at the clock and wondered where Ray was. Since she'd arranged to have her car towed to her house on the expectation that Ray would fix it Saturday, she was still without transportation. Silently, she worried, and hoped that he hadn't forgotten her.

Get a grip, Frannie, she told herself firmly. It's only been four hours since lunch. You think he's gonna forget you in four hours?

Well, yes, a perverse voice in her head answered.

Come on, he didn't forget you between last night and this morning, she reasoned with herself.

Then why is he not here to pick you up? that damnable voice asked.

Unable to answer that question, Frannie glanced at the clock again. Ray was now half an hour late, and while she knew he wasn't the most prompt person in the world, she didn't think he'd be this late. She alternated staring at the door with staring at the phone.

"Hey, Frannie, what are you still doing here?" a voice cut into her thoughts.

She pulled her gaze away to find her friend Laura standing on the other side of her desk. Like Frannie, Laura was a civilian aide, but while Frannie worked with the Major Crimes unit, Laura worked with the Vice unit. As a result, Laura tended to work later than Frannie did.

"Laura!" Frannie exclaimed. "I'm waiting for a ride home," she answered the other woman's question.

"Your brother?" Laura perked at the thought.

Frannie rolled her eyes. "Give it up, Laura, he's not going to notice you even if you stood naked in front of him. Oh, okay, maybe if you stood right in front of him, but we both know the moment he'd walk into the room, you'd run screaming for the nearest closet, don't we?"

Laura glared at her. "I would not," she shot back, but her voice lacked conviction.

Frannie snorted. "Yeah, like you didn't do that the last time I invited you over for dinner."

Laura flushed with the embarrassing reminder. "So, what's keeping you here?" she asked quickly.

"I'm waiting on Ray Kowalski."

The willowy redhead eyed Frannie speculatively. "Really? I thought something happened between you two last week. You just disappeared after he asked you to dance." She lifted her eyebrows suggestively. "Or did you just decide to do the horizontal mambo?" Her hands emphasized her words.

"Laura!"

"So you didn't," Laura concluded with a knowing smile. "Is tonight going to be the lucky night?"

"Why don't you get your own sex life and leave your nose out of mine?" Frannie complained.

"Ah, but dear friend of mine, you don't want me with your brother, so I have to settle for being a voyeur," Laura pointed out, pressing a hand to her chest and tilting her head back in a melodramatic gesture. "Such is the fate of the single, downtrodden, modern woman."

As always, Laura's antics made Frannie chuckle. "You are something else, you know that?" she commented.

Not waiting for a reply, she changed the subject. "What are you doing down here anyway?"

"Had to drop off a couple of files in the central file room, thought since I was in the area I'd see if you were still here before I left myself," Laura replied. "I didn't see your car when I was driving around the garage at lunchtime, trying to find a parking spot, and I thought maybe you'd hitched a ride with your brother." Her voice indicated she'd hoped that had been the case.

"No, that's why I'm waiting for Ray to come back in and pick me up," Frannie explained.

Laura glanced at the IN/OUT board on the wall, then at the clock. "Honey, he's probably gonna be even later than he is now, if he was following up on some case. Why don't I run you home?"

Frannie followed Laura's gaze and hesitated. "He'll be here," she said stubbornly.

Laura sighed resignedly, too well aware that once Frannie got an idea in her head, she stuck with it like superglue. "Suit yourself, hon, but I'm getting out of here while the getting's still good, you know?"

Frannie nodded, accepting the other woman's decision. "We still on for tomorrow night?"

"Of course," Laura responded. "Unless you have other plans?"

"No," Frannie replied, her mood turning grayer as she realized she hadn't discussed any future plans with Ray. With an effort, she pasted on a smile and forced cheer into her voice as she added, "Where else would I be on a Friday night but hanging out with you and Trina?"

Laura's hazel eyes were full of sympathy as she looked at her friend. "Where else?" she echoed. "Hey, if he doesn't show up, call me, and I'll get you."

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll need--"

"You will," Laura interrupted. "He's a man, right?"

With that reminder, Frannie nearly caved into her friend's offer of a ride home. Though she'd been just as surprised as anyone to discover that she enjoyed her work at the station, the days were gone when Frannie would spend hours there in hopes of seeing Fraser. For one thing, she'd long ago discovered if she stayed, someone was bound to give her work that she didn't always get paid to do. The small hope of seeing Fraser had initially outweighed any bites to her checkbook, but that had faded.

Thinking of that made Frannie realize that she'd been falling out of love with Fraser for longer than she'd been willing to admit to herself. It was an odd feeling to discover that such a long-time obsession had simply ... gone away. If that doesn't mean I'm falling in love with Ray, what does? she wondered.

Abruptly, she realized Laura was waiting for a reply. "Go on, go home, Laura," Frannie admonished her friend. "If he doesn't show, I'll call a taxi. No sense in you turning all the way around in traffic, especially since you live out in the middle of nowhere."

"Montclare isn't the middle of nowhere," Laura began the familiar argument. "It's western Chicago."

"Yeah, yeah," Frannie said, rolling her eyes, but smiling as she did so. "Just go home, why don't you?"

Frannie's smile quickly faded the moment Laura walked out of the room. She was worried. Although she knew Ray's job wasn't a strictly eight-hour one, anything over the standard day usually meant he'd encountered a problem of some sort. She didn't dare call him; the last time she'd called him for something, she'd inadvertently called at an inappropriate time, and he'd made her swear never to call him unless it was truly some kind of emergency. Aside from that, Frannie didn't want to appear needy. She ignored the growling of her stomach, reminding her that not only had she skipped eating lunch, it was now past her usual dinnertime.

Half an hour later, she was still waiting. Her phone rang, and automatically, she reached for the one on her desk before she realized it was her cell phone, which she'd placed beside the desk phone. Hope rose in her like a hot air balloon, then sank as soon as she said hello.

"Ma, no, I'm not on my way home. I have no car, remember? Mine is sitting in the ... yes, that's my car. How could you think it's Ray's?"

Frannie sighed and rose out of her chair to pace off her frustration. Somehow, talking with her mother never failed to make her feel all of thirteen years old again: gawky, uncoordinated, and on the verge of getting into trouble.

"Does that look like a Riviera? No, I don't think so. Ma, I told you, it doesn't wanna start. Ma, call Ray, will you? I can't pick up groceries for you tonight. Yes, Ma, I've got a ride home. With Ray. No, not my brother. Yes, him. No, we can't swing by and pick up a carton of milk and some eggs. Ma! Don't you call him! Ma!"

Frannie's only answer, however, was the buzzing of a dial tone. Swearing, Frannie ended the call. She wished now she'd taken up Laura's offer; if she had, she would have been home and there would be no question about who would have to go make the grocery run. Sighing, she sank into her desk chair and tried, unsuccessfully, to remember that stress caused unwanted wrinkles.

Twenty minutes later, she was still trying, and at last, surrendered to the fact she wasn't going to succeed. She was just about to call a taxi when she heard the unmistakable scuffle of paws on tile. She had just enough time to prepare herself for the enthusiastic greeting Diefenbaker gave her.

"Whoa there, boy," she said, ruffling his fur. "I'm out of donuts, sorry."

"It's probably for the best," Fraser remarked, entering the room just in time to hear her comment. "Hello, Francesca."

"Hello, Fraser," she returned, with none of the usual seductiveness she would've added a week ago. "Have you seen Ray?"

"He should be up in a few minutes," Fraser replied. "I'm deeply sorry; I'm afraid it's my fault he's late. Had I known he needed to pick you up, I would've not taken advantage of him since he stopped by the Consulate to ask for my input on a case, but one thing led to another, and--"

Frannie waved off what was bound to be a lengthy explanation. "Is he hurt?"

Fraser seemed surprised that she was asking about Ray, but the surprise in his eyes was gone so quickly Frannie wondered if she'd just imagined it. "No, but we did have to crawl through some garbage, and Ray wanted to clean the smell off before we went anywhere else."

Frannie wrinkled her nose at the thought. "Ooh, gross." She was glad that the station had locker rooms; she couldn't imagine what Ray had to have smelled like when he'd walked into the station.

"Yes, well, I suppose one could say that it's not a very appealing smell, although garbage is what it is, and cannot really be considered either appealing nor repulsive. I suppose, though, that as the human olfactory sense is tied directly to our sense of taste --"

"Fraser?" Frannie interrupted.

"Yes, Francesca?"

"Are you nervous around me or am I just dreaming?" Frannie asked, gesturing to emphasize her question.

Fraser rubbed an eyebrow and opened his mouth to answer as the silence between them began to grow.

"Actually, Francesca, I was hoping I could ask you a question," he began at last.

"Sure, Frase, anything." She smiled easily at him, marveling silently at how different not having an ulterior motive towards Fraser felt.

"Would you--That is, I was hoping--" Abruptly, Fraser stopped speaking and turned expectantly towards the hallway.

"What?" Frannie asked, but he wasn't paying her any attention, and then when she looked to see what Fraser was looking at, she forgot her own question.

" ... yeah, yeah, I'll get it, Ma," Ray promised as he strolled into the room just at that moment, talking on his cell phone as he did so. His wet hair was flat, testimony to his use of styling gel. He'd changed into a brown T-shirt and a darker, tighter pair of jeans than what Frannie remembered him wearing earlier. Suddenly, Frannie had to remind herself to breathe.

Ray hung up the phone and turned to Frannie. "Sorry to keep you waiting; I thought you would've gotten another ride home."

She could only stare at him, hypnotized by the way he looked. A long heartbeat later, his comment registered.

"Oh. Yeah. That," she said artlessly, and tried to make her voice sound casual. "Well, I uh, I, uh, thought you might think I went shazam or something, and I didn't wanna leave you a note because I know you hate reading stuff and you don't usually look at anything on your desk till Friday."

He took a moment to digest this torrent of information, then grinned. "Well, we'd better get moving. Ma's needing some stuff for dinner, and I dunno about you, but I'm starving."

"If it's all right with you, Ray, I think Diefenbaker and I will walk home," Fraser stated.

Surprised, Ray and Frannie looked at their friend.

"Don't be ridiculous," Frannie responded. "You're welcome to join us for dinner. You know Ma always makes plenty."

Diefenbaker whined hopefully.

"Don't give me that," Fraser warned sternly. "You were trying to steal donuts again this morning from Mr. Alessi's bakery shop, and don't you dare try to tell me differently."

"No reason why you should be punished as well," Frannie said reasonably.

"No, I think I'll pass, thank you, Francesca. I could use the exercise."

Ray snorted in disbelief at that comment. "Didn't you get enough running after that kid we chased for twelve blocks?" He looked at Fraser, sensing something wasn't quite right, and abruptly decided not to push the issue. Selfishly, he wanted to be alone with Frannie, and that desire tipped the scales.

"C'mon, Frannie, I think Fraser wants to yell at Dief some more. How much did the furball cost you this time, Fraser?"

Fraser named a figure, explaining, "The health inspector was in Mr. Alessi's shop, and fined Mr. Alessi for allowing an animal in the food preparation area."

Ray whistled in appreciation. He looked at Dief. "You're in trouble, buddy," he told the wolf.

Diefenbaker responded with the lupine equivalent of "I was wrongly accused," staring at Ray with the most injured-but-innocent look he'd ever seen the wolf use.

Ray chuckled; Dief's expression clearly stating his position as loudly as if he'd spoken the words aloud. "That's what they all say." Ray then turned to Frannie. "Ready to go?"

"Sure." Frannie pulled her purse out of her desk drawer and quickly locked the drawers. "Goodnight, Fraser."

Diefenbaker looked at her plaintively.

"Don't be too harsh on him, okay?" she asked Fraser, unable to resist the pleading in Dief's eyes.

Ray shook his head, but directed his next words to Fraser and Dief. "See you tomorrow. Frannie?"

"I was ready five minutes ago," Frannie reminded him.

"So you were, so you were," Ray replied, ignoring the annoyance in her tone. Gesturing with one hand, he said, "After you."

"Why, thank you, Ray," Frannie accepted graciously.

It didn't escape Fraser's notice that Ray put a hand on Frannie's back as she and Ray exited the room, nor did Ray's sudden politeness towards Frannie.

Fraser sighed and looked at his wolf. "That did not go well, did it?"

Diefenbaker woofed.

"That was a rhetorical question, Diefenbaker, and I'll thank you kindly to not answer those."

Another woof, this one much put-upon.

"Well, yes, I do solicit and value your opinion, but--" Fraser stopped himself as he realized he had absolutely no clue as to the reason for the exception to the rule in this situation. "We should start walking home," he told Dief abruptly, and proceeded to do just that.

Diefenbaker sighed resignedly and followed Fraser out of the station.

"Frannie?" Ray Kowalski asked as he stepped out into the back yard and stopped before the old swing set. "You okay?"

Sitting in one of the swings, Frannie looked up at him. "Yeah, I just--Maria makes me so mad, you know?"

Ray nodded. He'd been in the kitchen, helping put away the dinner dishes, when he'd heard the raised voices. It wasn't all that unusual for Maria and Frannie to be arguing, but he'd heard enough of the argument to know that Maria had been particularly vicious tonight.

"She and Tony ... all they can think about is making babies. Maria doesn't work and Tony's been laid off since forever. How the hell are they gonna take care of another baby? If they didn't live in this house, they'd be in trouble for sure. I'm not even sure who takes care of the bills anymore; I know Ray used to when he lived here. I just know it's not cheap to keep this house together, and one more baby in the house isn't gonna help. Not that I would mind another niece or nephew around, it's just that Maria's not thinking about the cost, you know?"

Ray knew the exact cost. Knowing the Vecchio household finances had come under the heading of his cover, as Ray Vecchio had maintained them for his family. He'd been surprised to discover that the other man had invested wisely; nothing grand, but enough that his salary as a police officer was supplemented. It had been Vecchio's responsibility to make sure the bills had gotten paid, and Kowalski had willingly assumed the responsibility, seeing as he was pretending to be Vecchio.

"I mean," Frannie continued, "we spent a hundred bucks on stuff Ma wanted for dinner tonight, and you paid it--" She paused as a thought occurred to her. "You've been paying the bills, haven't you? You signed the charge receipt 'Ray Vecchio.'"

Ray shrugged. "Your brother couldn't while he was undercover. Ma didn't understand them; took me a while to figure 'em out myself. When Ray came back, Stella had all his attention. I just haven't had a chance to give the stuff all back to him, and he hasn't asked. Guess he figured you guys figured it out for yourselves."

"Give it to me." She stood up and held out her hand.

"What?"

"The charge card. You're not Ray Vecchio."

"Nope."

"Ray, you're not my brother."

He grinned. "Thank God, or else I'd get arrested for doing this." He took the outstretched hand and used it as leverage to pull her closer. Before she could react, he kissed her.

A fire blazed into being with the press of his mouth against hers. She moaned helplessly, half in protest against his sudden action, half in pleasure. He took the opening of her mouth as an invitation to thrust his tongue in to taste her. His hands slipped from her arms to grip her hips and bring her even closer.

She was burning. How could one touch make her feel like she was going to go up in flames? She wasn't sure, only certain that whatever it was, she wanted more. Hungrily, she returned the kiss.

A door slammed, followed by Tony's voice shouting, "Ray, where'd you put that Car and Driver magazine you were showing me?"

Reluctantly, Ray ended the kiss. Frannie chuckled softly, aware that her brother-in-law had no tact, but she was reluctant to let go of Ray just yet. She was relieved to see that Ray felt the same way, for his arms tightened on her as if he was afraid she was going to leave.

Tony halted abruptly, his heavy footsteps ceasing as he realized what he'd interrupted. "Sorry, man. I, uh, I'll go find it."

Ray never turned around, but kept his eyes on Frannie's as he replied, "You go do that, Tony."

Frannie waited until she'd heard the door slam behind Tony before she burst into giggles. "You know he's not going to find it."

Ray shrugged. "So?"

The Italian-American woman sobered. "He's probably in there telling Ma and Maria and anyone with an ear that he saw us out here." She cleared her throat. "Kissing."

"Screw 'em," Ray answered bluntly, shocking her. "I don't care what they think. I care what you think. You still okay with this?"

"Whaddya think, I just kiss every guy I meet in my backyard?" Temper flaring, she slapped him.

Slowly, he stepped back, rubbing his cheek as the imprint of her hand became clearer.

"I'm sorry, Frannie, I didn't mean--"

"I don't want to hear it. If that's what you think of me, then I don't want to see you."

He stared at her for a long moment, disbelief clear in his eyes.

"Okay, Frannie," he said in a low voice she'd never heard him use. Then he turned and walked around the side of the house to the driveway. A few seconds later, she heard his GTO start up, and pull away.

"What did you do?" her mother demanded the moment she walked into the house using the back door just off of the kitchen.

"Do what, Ma?" Frannie feigned innocence. All she wanted to do at the moment was crawl into bed and stay there. Her anger had faded, leaving her feeling dull inside.

"To Ray. He was supposed to--"

"I don't know, Ma," Frannie lied, not caring about whatever it was that Ray was supposed to have helped her mother with, and stepped around her mother.

"Francesca! Don't you lie to your mother! I got eyes, you think the kitchen doesn't face the yard?"

Frannie ignored her. She really didn't want to face her mother, so she headed up the back stairs to her room.

Ray drove through the city on autopilot. This wasn't the way he'd planned the evening to go. He'd hoped that he could convince Frannie to leave with him, get away from her sister for a few hours, and maybe, just maybe, they'd end up at his apartment. All he'd wanted was to spend some uninterrupted time alone with her ... okay, so maybe he wanted a bit more than that, but he'd been willing to take things slow. He hadn't wanted to rush what had begun to feel like something very precious. Now, it looked like it would be just one more night of him and the four walls. He didn't even have a pet turtle anymore; it had died while he'd been in Canada with Fraser, and Ray hadn't felt like getting another one. Thinking about how he didn't even have a pet to console him made Ray's mood plummet even further.

He found himself parking in the lot in front of a bar he favored. For a moment, he sat there, the GTO's engine still running, knowing that a single drink wasn't going to ease the ache in his heart. It would take a river of alcohol to drown the pain etching itself in his soul, and Ray knew all too well from the drunken binges he'd gone on after Stella that drinking only caused more problems.

He didn't understand why Frannie had been so sensitive to his words, but her rejection of him hurt. He'd thought things were going pretty well between them, especially after their talk at lunch.

I'd like to throttle Tony, he thought darkly. Everything was goin' good, and then he changed things.'

Even as he thought this, he knew it wasn't Tony's fault. Instinctively, Ray knew it had more to do with Frannie than anyone else, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps he'd gone too far. Tony's graceless entrance had probably reminded Frannie that she had family standards to live up to, and as much as Ma Vecchio insisted otherwise, there were times when Ray still felt like an outsider.

Face it, Kowalski. You're just not good enough for anybody. You knew someday you'd have to pay for borrowing someone else's family, and thinking that maybe you could make it permanent.

Ray took a deep breath, blinking back the tears his thoughts produced, and put the car in reverse. Maybe, he thought, she just needs a little time, like Stella did when she used to get mad at me and it wasn't really my fault for making her mad. Yeah, and maybe cows can fly.

Resolutely, he shut his mind to the despair filling it, and concentrated on the drive home.

He was surprised and more than a little apprehensive to find Ray Vecchio waiting for him. Calling on the abilities that had made him a good undercover cop, the detective took a deep breath and slipped on the mask of casualness as easily as another man might slide on a T-shirt.

"Hey, Ray, what's shakin'?"

The Italian-American smiled, but there were shadows in the hazel eyes and a tightness in his features that betrayed his tension. He moved from his position against the wall to the left of the door to stand more upright as Ray unlocked his apartment door.

"Not much," Vecchio replied, nodding his thanks as Ray gestured for him to enter the apartment.

Nervously, Ray followed and shut the door behind them, pausing to switch on the lights and then toss his keys on the kitchen counter. The silence between them lengthened in the wake of the Vecchio's comment, making Ray uncomfortable. He squashed the urge to bolt and made his way over to where Vecchio was standing.

"Wanna beer? I think I got a bottle or two from the last time you were here."

"Nah, thanks." The other man stood in the living room, his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat, looking oddly unsure of himself.

"This about your sister?" Better get straight to the point and get it over with, Ray thought as he came to a stop in front of the couch and then dropped his body into it.

Silence reigned for several agonizing minutes, during which Ray cursed his directness and wondered if Vecchio was trying to decide just what the best method for killing him was. God knows he'd probably know all those Mob ways, Ray thought darkly, and tried to suppress a shudder.

Something flickered in the other man's eyes at the badly concealed movement. "I don't have to like it, Stanley."

Ray managed--barely--not to wince at the use of his given name, knowing that Vecchio was just trying to get a reaction out of him. "Well, you can rest easy on that score," Ray said quickly. "She don't want me."

Uh oh, Ray thought as Vecchio's eyes went wide. 'That wasn't a smart thing to say.

"Why the hell not?" Vecchio burst out. "Is she still stuck on Fraser?"

"I wasn't up to asking questions," Ray answered in irritation. "She said it was over, so I left." Hurriedly, Ray asked, "What's wrong with you? A minute ago I coulda sworn you were going to throttle me for wanting Frannie."

Caught by that logic, Vecchio could only stare at him. "I just might still do that," he growled.

"Hey," Ray said defensively, "if you don't want her seeing Fraser, that's one thing. What you got against me?"

"You hurt her, you're dead meat," Vecchio warned.

Ray scoffed. "Like I didn't know that, Ray? Look, it don't matter anyway. She changed her mind or something."

Instantly protective, Frannie's brother demanded, "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing!" Desperately, Ray continued, "You know how she thinks stuff is there that isn't there! Look how hung up she was on Fraser!"

Vecchio held his gaze, and Ray knew instinctively it was the look the other man had used on perps. Ray gave his best "I'm cool, I didn't do anything" look in return.

To his immense relief, Vecchio bought it.

"Yeah, that's Frannie," he agreed, finally sitting down in the sofa.

Ray sighed, relaxing for the first time since he'd seen the other man waiting for him.

"What's wrong with her car?" Vecchio asked, changing the subject. "Ma called me up and wanted me to take her shopping, but I couldn't; I was out following up a lead."

"Starter, I think," Ray answered. "I was gonna fix it this weekend."

Vecchio looked at him steadily and for such a long time that Ray began to panic, thinking that maybe he'd made the wrong decision.

"You just looking for an excuse to see my sister or were you just looking after my family again? Because I've been meaning to talk to you about that; you were supposed to give me back everything and I know you haven't."

"If I said yes to both, whaddya gonna do about it?"

Green eyes gleamed with wicked promise. "I'd kick your ass, except we already talked about Frannie and you've been doing a good job of keeping the house together. Even if you did burn it down."

"Hey," Ray said defensively. "I didn't burn it down, that was--" He stopped abruptly as he realized Vecchio was yanking his chain. Despite an urge to fight back, Ray grinned foolishly. Without being told, he knew that, for the moment at least, he and Vecchio were back to being friends.

Ray pulled the credit card he'd used at the grocery store out of his wallet. "Here," he told the other man, tossing it on the coffee table. "Meant to give this back to you sooner, but you were kinda busy."

Vecchio picked it up and slid it in his wallet. "Thanks," he said sincerely, and Ray knew it was for more than just the return of the card. "Were you going to pick up Frannie in the morning?"

Ray winced. He'd forgotten about that in his despair. "I think you'd better. She don't want me around her now."

Vecchio nodded his understanding, and they soon moved onto other topics.

"Francesca?" Mrs. Vecchio asked tentatively after knocking on her daughter's door and cracking it open slightly.

"Come in," Frannie responded with a resigned sigh. She knew she couldn't avoid this lecture, no matter how much she wanted to do so. She was just glad that her mother had given her ten minutes to cool off and think about her behavior.

"Bambina, what do you think you're doing? Do you think your mother is blind?"

"No, Ma. I don't want to talk about this." Please, I know what I did. I don't need anyone to tell me I overreacted.

"You don't have to talk. You just sit there on that bed and you listen."

Frannie rolled her eyes, but knew that her mother was not going to stop until she'd had her say.

"And don't you roll your eyes at me, missy. You're not too old for me to give you a good spanking, and trust me, you're on your way to getting one."

For a moment, Frannie was tempted to turn around and offer her backside to her mother. Too many years of knowing the consequences of insolence, however, kept her in check.

"You think this old woman can't see you're in love? That it scares you?"

"I'm not afraid of anything, and certainly not love," Frannie lashed out, hating how well her mother read her.

"Oh, Francesca." Mrs. Vecchio sighed, and took a seat on the bed beside her daughter. "Ray is a good man. Good men aren't so easy to find, but they're easy to hurt because they are good men, and they will put your happiness first. He is not the one we never speak of, the one who put bruises on your face and scars in your heart."

Mrs. Vecchio's eyes were sad, knowing, and filled with such sympathy, Frannie had to look away. She knew Ray wasn't using her; he'd said as much at lunch. Yet the lessons learned at the hands of another man ran deep, and as much as Frannie tried to forget, they came bursting out of her at the most inopportune times. Her ex-husband had always tried to make her family's opinion seem less important than what he thought, and in Frannie's eyes, what her family thought of her meant everything. Even though she knew Ray was aware of her family's importance in her life, Frannie hadn't thought through his words until after she'd slapped him. All she'd heard was one more person questioning her ability to decide for herself what she wanted, one more person telling her that what her family thought didn't have merit. It was only after Ray had left that she'd realized she'd made a mistake. Her mother's words only added to her guilt. Ashamed, she clung to the only thing left to her: her pride.

"So? He deserved it."

Mrs. Vecchio reached for Frannie's nearer hand, enfolded it within her own work-roughed hands, and squeezed gently. "Why? Because he kissed you where all the neighbors could see?"

"Yes," Frannie replied, seizing upon the excuse as if it was a life preserver.

"That's not it, bambina, and you know it," Mrs. Vecchio said firmly. "Or is because you want someone else, hmm?"

Frannie remained silent, not trusting her voice. She was very much afraid that if she spoke, the truth would come spilling out in a tidal wave, and she would sound silly. How else could she explain that Ray had touched some part of herself she thought only existed in romance books, and the feeling was so new and felt so *right* that she didn't know how to act? Or that she'd gotten so used to believing that she didn't need or want anyone other than Fraser that Ray's interest in her had seemed suddenly overwhelming?

Her mother sighed and let go of her hand. "Francesca, you have been looking in the wrong face for love." Mrs. Vecchio rose from the bed. "I will pray for your happiness, but hear me when I say that I hope your guardian angel isn't listening to you and that she's listening to me."

"Ma--" Frannie began, but it was too late; her mother was muttering in Italian, praying as she walked out of the door.

Groaning, Frannie hung her head in her hands. How could this get any worse? she wondered.

Then the phone rang.

For a long moment, Frannie stared at the instrument, fear snaking up her spine. Don't be silly, Frannie, it's just a phone, she told herself firmly.

Drawing a deep breath, she picked it up, catching it in mid-ring. "Hello?" she greeted warily.

"Good evening, Francesca," a voice she'd dreamed of hearing like this intoned in her ear.

She swallowed nervously. "Hi, Fraser."

"I hope I'm not calling too late?" he inquired solicitously.

"No --" she glanced at the clock on her nightstand, seeing it was only nine o'clock "-- no, it's not too late." She paused. "Were you trying to find my brother?"

"No, uh, no, actually, I was hoping to speak to you directly." Now it was his turn to hesitate. "Are you free ... . No, that's not right. What I meant to say was are you open ... " He stopped himself and suddenly blurted, "Can I ask you a question?"

Frannie let the silence between them grow until she couldn't stand it any longer. "About what?" she ventured cautiously.

She heard him take a deep breath before stating, "The Philippine Consulate is hosting a dinner party tomorrow evening in celebration of successful trade negotiations with Canada. I realize this is short notice, but as I was just informed of this myself, and as one of the requirements for this function is a dancing partner, I was hoping I may impose on our friendship that you would be willing to help me. I know I'm perhaps assuming too much, but there is no one else I can think of to ask on such short notice."

A thousand faded hopes and the ruins of a million carefully tended fantasies washed through Frannie like a tidal wave. All the nights she'd spent writing in her diary the numerous plans she'd made about Fraser, all the time she'd spent pouring her heart out to Laura and Trina how she'd tried some technique she'd read in 'Cosmopolitan' and how that had failed miserably, all the money she'd invested in the right outfit to wear so that Fraser would notice flashed through her mind as she reviewed Fraser's words. Aching with the sensation of being given a chance to live out a long-held dream far too late, she closed her eyes, wrapped her free arm around her waist, and fought the urge to cry. She swallowed her tears and blinked as she forced herself to focus on something other than the emotional storm clouding her soul.

Her gaze landed on a large teddy bear she'd gotten for her seventh birthday. It had nearly dwarfed her then, but as time had passed, the stuffed toy had become a perfect inanimate partner for pretending she was with the prince of her dreams. For most of the time she'd known Fraser, that teddy bear had been him ... but the thought of dancing with anyone other than Ray Kowalski left her feeling cold.

'Like you're going to be doing *that* with him again,' she thought bitterly. 'He's probably convinced himself you're not interested, that kissing you was all a mistake.'

"If you're previously engaged, Francesca, I understand," Fraser said, breaking the silence.

"What? Oh! No, I'm not previously engaged, to use your phrase. Though I was previously engaged--oh, well, never mind, that doesn't matter." She took a deep breath, thinking of all the times she'd wished something like this would happen, and the irony of it happening now. "So is this thing formal or really formal?"

"It is an official function," Fraser replied, "and as such, would be a formal event."

"Okay." Frannie stared at the teddy bear, her heart aching. She thought about all the dreams she'd woven about going on a date with Fraser, and how messed up her life had suddenly become. She contemplated her plans for the next evening, which consisted of the usual Friday night get-together with Laura and Trina.

If I go out with them, they'll know something is wrong, she thought. It'll be like the Spanish Congregation. I don't want to be interrogated.

Fear of that cemented her decision. If she was with Fraser, no one could ask her why she wasn't with Ray, and she wouldn't have to think about what she had done tonight. After all, going on a date with Fraser was something she'd dreamed of for years, even if he was merely asking her because there was no one else he could ask.

"I think I have a dress I can wear," she told Fraser. "What time is this party?"

"Six-thirty," he answered. "I will pick you up in the consulate car."

"You'll have to do it from the station," Frannie warned him. "My car's in the shop." Or will be, she thought on a fresh wave of despair. Ray won't want to fix it for me now.'

"If you are prepared to be ready then, I can do that," Fraser agreed.

"Not a problem," she promised him, forcing a smile to her voice.

"Then it's settled," he stated, relief clearly in his voice. "Thank you, Francesca. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Fraser." So saying, she ended the call.

Setting the cordless phone down on her nightstand, she walked over to the teddy bear. Picking it up, she held it for a long time and furiously blinked back tears. Resolutely, she tucked the toy underneath her arm and marched into her niece's bedroom.

Least now I won't have to look at it anymore, Frannie thought. Gina's been trying to steal it from me anyway.

"Gina? I got a present for you," Frannie said as she strode into the room.

The eight-year-old girl looked up from her video game and her eyes grew wide as she realized what her aunt was giving her. "You're giving me Ben?"

Frannie swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Yes. Now you can play princess."

"Cool!" Gina exclaimed, launching herself off the bed to hug Frannie and take the teddy bear. "You're the best!"

Frannie smiled, heart aching, and decided to lose herself in playing with her niece for a while.

"What's this?" Ray complained as his sister carefully placed a black dress in the backseat of his latest Riviera. "You expecting to go through a mud puddle today?"

Frannie glared at him, resenting the fact that some of the effect was lost because of his greater height as he leaned over the top of the car. "I have a date after work and we're leaving right from the station."

With some more maneuvering, she arranged the dress to her satisfaction along with a bag of accessories and then slid into the front passenger seat.

Ray brightened as he absorbed her words and folded himself into the driver's seat, pulling the door shut behind him in unison with Frannie's echo of the same action on the door on her side.

"So you and Stan made up."

"We're gonna be late for work if you don't put this thing in gear," Frannie reminded him, not bothering to correct his assumption.

"And whose fault is that?" Ray demanded as he complied with the request and forgot about who she would be seeing on her date. "You're the one who had to go get that ... ."

Frannie tuned out the rest of her brother's complaint, grateful that she'd been able to successfully distract him. She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, hating the gritty way her body felt. She hadn't slept well all night, and prayed for the strength to get through the day. Something told her, though, that prayer wouldn't be enough to help her when the truth became known.

"Hey, Ray, you wanna go get a drink and shoot some pool?"

Ray looked up from the pile of cases on his desk and looked at the blond detective standing before him. "Aren't you going out tonight with my sister? Did she cancel on you?"

"What date?" Stan asked, his tone reflecting incredulity and a hint of confusion. "I told you, she don't want nothin' to do with me. Anyway, I was in court all day and I haven't even seen her."

Ray frowned. "She told me this morning she had a date. Even took a dress into work with her. If it's not you she's going out with, then --" He stopped speaking as realization dawned.

Neither man moved. Ray didn't dare say the name that rested on his lips, afraid that if by saying it, it made the truth all that more real. From the suddenly hunted look in Stan's eyes, Ray knew the other man understood who Frannie was seeing tonight.

For a long moment, Ray was certain his friend was going to lose control as the only other possible candidate for Frannie's date came to mind. Stan's angular face paled in anger as he stood with clenched fists, one hair trigger away from explosion. The veins in his neck bulged in livid ridges, and he searched the room wildly in an apparent attempt to find something or someone upon which to vent his frustration.

Abruptly, shudders racked Stan's body as he drew a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets, and hunching his shoulders forward. As quickly as the rage had built, a calmer mask slid into place. The only betrayal of the true emotion Stan felt haunted his blue eyes.

"Yeah, well," Stan drawled finally, "it's not like I didn't know she was in love with him." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall near Ray's desk, trying to look casual, but only managing to look like he needed the support the wall provided.

Ray looked at the other man, seeing the badly concealed hurt radiating from Stan. Torn between family loyalty and friendship, Ray found himself at a loss for words. On one hand, he wanted to go find his sister and immediately strangle her for changing her mind and appearing to lead Stan on; on the other, he wanted to defend Frannie's right to do so.

"It's okay, Ray," Stan assured him, shrugging off the rejection and not convincing Ray in the least. "It's not like I haven't been turned down before, you know? Guess if I have to lose out to anybody, it might as well be Fraser. I'm happy for both of them, though --" and Stan cracked a grin, surprising Ray, for he didn't think Stan could smile at a time like this-- "I wonder if Fraser knows what he's getting into?"

That brought a reluctant smile to Ray's face, then he frowned as another meaning to Stan's words registered. "Hey, what are you trying to imply about my sister?" he demanded.

Stan held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing, man. You up for those beers and a couple of games of pool or you gonna sit and stare at those dead cases all night?"

"Yeah, yeah," Ray agreed, rising to his feet and slipping on his gray suit jacket. He made one notation on the topmost case file and then pushed his chair back. "But if this is gonna be about you crying in your beer about my sister, I don't want to hear it."

Stan snorted. "Wouldn't dream of it, my friend," he said easily. "It's done. I'm over it. She's with Fraser, and it's a good thing. It's so good it's golden, you know? Yeah, I'm happy for her. Really happy. Now are you going to get going, or do I have to kick your ass to get it in gear? You still owe me a game from two weeks ago."

"Says who?" Ray volleyed back even as he moved to join his impatient friend as Stan walked out the door.

Even as he did so, Ray knew that Stan hadn't really dealt with the news Ray had unwittingly delivered. Stan had merely buried it under a façade, and a well-practiced one at that. For the first time in a long time, Ray understood how Stan had been chosen to fill his shoes even though the physical resemblance was too dissimilar: Stan just made a person believe that who they were seeing was exactly who they were supposed to be. From his own experience, Ray knew Stan would probably let the true emotion go when he was somewhere alone and no one could see.

For a moment, Ray wished he wasn't Frannie's brother. If he wasn't, then maybe he could get Stan to talk about what happened, but as soon as Ray thought that, he realized he'd never been good at talking about feelings. It wouldn't matter if he was Frannie's brother or not: Ray didn't know how to say what he wanted to say, wasn't entirely certain Stan wanted to hear it, and was just now becoming convinced that both his sister and his two closest friends had completely lost their minds. The realization left Ray feeling helpless, which he hated.

So Ray did the only thing he could do, and played along with Stan's charade that everything was all right. He ignored the brutal smack of the pool balls Stan sent careening across the baize in the pool hall and the almost desperate way Stan flirted with the barely-legal waitress, who thankfully deflected most of the increasingly outrageous propositions. Then, after he'd dropped Stan off at Stan's apartment, Ray turned around, and drove to his family home to wait.

It was late when Frannie got home. Fraser had offered to drive her home in the Consulate's car, but some instinct for self-preservation made her refuse and take a cab home from the Consulate instead. As soon as she stepped out of the cab, her heart sank, recognizing the Riviera in the driveway. Whatever joy she'd felt at being with Fraser vanished instantly, as if a magic spell had worn off and she was back to being plain old Frannie.

Tired, and more than a little disappointed about her experience, all she wanted to do now was crawl into her bed and hide under the covers. Even with Fraser to help her, she'd felt hopelessly like a country bumpkin pretending to be Cinderella. The topics discussed at dinner had been way beyond her knowledge for her to completely relax. The only thing left for her to do had been to smile and nod her head in what she hoped was the right places.

Even worse had been the way Fraser had treated her. He'd been unfailingly solicitous, gracious, and so appropriately attentive that Frannie had wanted to scream. She'd thought being around a perfect gentleman would be a good experience. Instead, she'd found herself wishing for someone who wasn't, and wondering exactly how he'd look dressed in a tuxedo.

That thought had occurred just as the trade delegate on her left had turned to ask her a question, and she'd ended up sticking her foot in her mouth and sounding incredibly stupid. Fraser had, fortunately, rescued her, but as the evening had worn on, she'd convinced herself that there was no way in hell he'd ever ask her for anything this formal ever again. As a result, she'd spent the evening feeling sorry for herself. That didn't even begin to cover her mortification for not knowing how to act, for being an embarrassment to Fraser, and for thinking she had even an ounce of a shot at being with him, in his world. Moreover, all the air had gone out of her dreams with the puncture of reality, leaving her holding an empty, ripped shell she didn't want anymore.

The last straw had been as they were waiting for the cab to arrive.

"Thank you for joining me this evening, Francesca."

"My pleasure," Frannie answered sincerely. "Even if I didn't know what everybody was talking about." She smiled, swallowing a yawn as she did so.

"If I may be so bold to ask you a question?" Fraser began.

"Sure, Fraser, anything."

"It's certainly none of my business, and you're free to say so at any time, but--"

"Just ask it, Fraser," she interrupted.

He took a deep breath. "Have you spoken to Ray at all today?"

She stared at Fraser, wondering what he knew. "I talked to my brother this morning," she responded.

"I don't mean your brother," Fraser corrected. "I meant Ray Kowalski."

Frannie's heart sank.

Fraser rubbed an eyebrow and exhaled. "I am merely concerned about him. He mentioned he would be testifying in court today, and I was unable to break away from my duties as I had planned to see how the testimony went. When I spoke to him earlier today on the phone to apologize for my absence, he seemed rather ... discontent, in a way that had nothing to do with the case. I was hoping you knew why."

Already frustrated with the way the evening had turned out, Frannie's control snapped The precarious balance Frannie had been wavering between all day tipped over as the barriers she'd tried to erect fell in the flood of her disappointment and despair. She had every intention of apologizing to Ray, but she didn't think she stood a chance anymore. Hating the reminder of her mistake, she exploded.

"Just drop it, okay? I don't wanna talk about it, " Frannie snapped, then took a deep breath as she saw shock register on Fraser's face. From some reserve of strength she hadn't known she had, Frannie forced a seductive smile to her face. "You're with me and I'm with you, and that's the way it should be. Geez, Fraser, I was beginning to think you'd never notice me."

The moment the last word was spoken, Frannie wished she'd taken them back. The slightly uncomfortable Mountie she'd become accustomed to ignoring to suit her fantasies was back, staring at her as if she had suddenly announced she was from Mars. Gone was the gentleman who'd made sure nearly all of her needs had been attended to during the course of the evening, who'd rescued her from conversations that had gone far too quickly over her head.

"I was under the impression - I thought you were with - Oh dear. Ray doesn't know you're here with me tonight, does he?"

For half a second, Frannie considered lying, but Fraser's gaze held her. He appeared so dismayed at the prospect of Ray being upset with him, but there was nothing she could say to ease his mind. As quickly as it had come, her misdirected anger faded, leaving in its wake aching sadness.

"No, he doesn't," Frannie admitted. In a defensive gesture, she crossed her arms, feeling regret rush in like water into a well. "My brother just knows I'm on a date; he thinks I'm with Ray."

"I see." With that pronouncement, Fraser's expression shuttered.

Though Fraser still stood within reach, Frannie suddenly had the impression that the distance between them was an ocean, and that with her words, she'd destroyed whatever closeness they'd developed during the course of the evening. For the first time, Frannie knew exactly where she stood with Fraser, and it wasn't anywhere near what she hoped she'd had.

Just then, the cab arrived, and there wasnt' any opportunity to say anything more.

Frannie closed her eyes on a fresh wave of pain, remembering how Fraser had looked after he'd helped her into the cab. She sighed and opened her eyes, seeing again the Riviera parked in the driveway next to her Cavalier, which she'd had towed home earlier in the day. Resolutely, she strode forward, telling herself that if she was lucky, she could duck into the bathroom and avoid confrontation for however long it took for her to shower and change into her pajamas.

Suddenly, the porch light flooded the darkness, and the front door opened. Ray Vecchio stepped out and shut the door behind him, careful to close it quietly. The collar of his dress shirt was unbuttoned and he'd changed from slacks into a pair of khakis, no doubt from the stash of clothes he kept at the house for emergencies. He stepped off the porch and looked up at the sky, apparently fascinated by the stars. Frannie wasn't fooled by his relaxed posture. Her brother was about as interested in the constellations as she was interested in getting back with her ex-husband.

Frannie halted a few feet away from her brother and silently debated just walking past him.

"You know," Ray said conversationally, "I used to wish you'd stop chasing Fraser. Didn't think you'd ever wake up and realize there were other men out there, but I gotta admit, I didn't know what to think when I saw you kissing Stan."

He was silent a long moment. Frannie decided he wasn't angry, and moved a few steps closer.

"Were you just trying make Fraser jealous? Did you even stop to think someone might get hurt in your little game?" His voice held a razor-sharp edge though its delivery was calm, as if he was inquiring about her opinion on the night sky.

Hearing that tone, Frannie froze. She was close enough now to see her brother's face in the shadowed half-light spilling out from the porch. What she read in his expression made her revise her estimation of his feelings.

Ray was thoroughly pissed. Not angry in the blustering, belligerent, wildly gesticulating way she'd come to expect from him. No, this was a controlled fury ... and the storm was directed right at her. She could feel her throat closing up, and she swallowed painfully past the fear that had lodged there.

"So, were you successful in getting your man?" Ray considered this question a moment, appearing to give it serious thought. "No, because I told Benny a long time ago to keep away from you, and he promised that he would honor that request. That means you failed ... again."

Frannie couldn't speak, torn between the dawning realization that her brother wasn't taking her side, and that he'd had the gall to make Fraser promise not to get involved with her.

"I guess that means you're going to go for something more drastic, huh? What'll it be this time, Frannie? You lead Stan oh, excuse me, Ray -- on some more? When are you gonna stop? You gonna treat him just like Stella did, leading him on all the time?"

"That's not fair!" Frannie burst out. "I'm not Stella!"

"No?" Ray asked mildly. "Then how come you ripped out his heart and shoved it down his throat?"

"I did no such thing!"

"Sure, Frannie," her brother drawled. "Tell that to someone who doesn't know what that looks and feels like."

Stunned, she could only stare at him.

"Don't you know what you've done, Frannie?" he demanded quietly. "You put me in the middle of my two closest friends, and I can't defend you, I can't protect you, and I can't do anything except watch you hurt them both. Do you know what that does to me? Do you have any idea?"

The words assaulted her like knives, twisting her despair in deeper.

"All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. You're my sister. Nobody messes with my sister. But you seem to be doing a damned fine job of screwing up on your own. You wanna know what your problem is, Francesca? It's not that you're afraid to dream. You're just more interested in the fantasy than the reality, and there isn't anyone in the world who'll ever be good enough. You think it's safer that way. If they don't measure up, you can't get hurt."

"That's where you're wrong. You don't understand how I feel," Frannie countered, but the protest lacked conviction, and both of them knew it. More than anyone else, Ray had been there to hold her when she'd finally admitted her marriage was a failure. He'd been the one to listen, the one to arrest her husband for spousal abuse, the one who'd made sure no one would hurt Frannie that way again. She could see that knowledge reflected in his eyes as she stood within arm's reach.

Ray held her gaze briefly before he glanced up at the sky one last time. "Damned if I still don't know what Fraser sees up there. Maybe it's salvation from people without a clue. Maybe it's just Venus. Hell if I know." He shrugged. "Guess that's just my luck."

Now he returned his attention on her. "I care about you, Francesca, and I'd put you above my friends any day, but on this, I have to wonder what the hell you think you're going to accomplish by chasing after Fraser again. Nothing good will come out of it."

He paused, watching his words register on his sister's face. He nodded once, his expression grim. "I thought I told you a long time ago guys like Fraser don't marry girls like you. That still holds true. A guy like Stan, now -- well, I dunno."

"Oh, so Ray gets your approval and Fraser doesn't?" Frannie burst out.

"I didn't say that," Ray countered. "I did not say that I was giving my approval for anything. What I'm trying to say is that you better make up your mind fast, or else I'm going to have to explain to my two closest friends why my sister is the most contrary woman on the face of this planet."

With that, he turned, and walked into the house, leaving Frannie shell-shocked in the front yard.

At the last minute, he stopped in front of the door and turned around. "What?" he demanded in a more normal tone as his hands underscored his words. "You gonna stand there all night or you gonna go to sleep so Ma won't be worrying about us both?"

Numbly, Frannie responded, nodding her head and moving forward.

The first thing Ray Kowalski wanted in the morning was not an anxious Mountie, even if he came bearing a cup of coffee sweetened the way Ray liked it. Ray especially did not want said Mountie on his doorstep at six a.m. on a Saturday. Fraser had heard him say words to that effect often enough to know that a single cup of coffee was the equivalent of a temporary visa; it didn't necessarily grant him the freedom to impose upon Ray.

Much to Fraser's relief, Ray didn't shut the door on him. Fraser made a mental note to thank Dief for his advice against wearing serge on a Saturday; from the reaction Fraser had just gotten, he gathered that if he had been wearing his regular uniform, Ray would have thought something bad was happening and been instantly awake. Instead, Ray took the proffered cup and drank a sip before turning and collapsing tiredly on the couch. Diefenbaker immediately jumped up on the couch and laid his head on Ray's lap,much to Fraser's dismay.

Ray absently rubbed the wolf's head and continued to sip his coffee as Fraser closed the door and began to chide Diefenbaker. Ignoring the scolding as much as the wolf was, Ray concentrated on waking up before he started asking questions. He could feel the caffeine and sugar rush begin to work its magic upon him, and he closed his eyes briefly to savor it.

"So, Frase," Ray broke into Fraser's discourse to Dief. "What's up?" He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he'd had time to shower before having to face his friend.

Fraser hesitated, belatedly reconsidering his reason for coming to see Ray.

Ray yawned, and Fraser realized he'd better hurry with his explanation for showing up so early. If he didn't, Ray was likely to fall back asleep on the couch.

"I do apologize for waking you up, Ray," he said quickly, "but I thought it was important enough to let you know as soon as possible that my intentions last night toward someone we both know and care about deeply were honorable."

Ray finished his coffee and looked up at Fraser, who stood before him, nervously running his fingers around the edge of his hat brim.

"Honorable," Ray repeated, setting his cup down on the coffee table.

Suddenly, Ray stood, surprising Dief, who muttered indignantly about the unexpected treatment.

"That's just great," Ray derided, shaking his head and pacing angrily. "You never paid attention to Frannie before, and then I find out you went out with her?" Disbelief and hurt vibrated through Ray's voice. "I talked to you yesterday morning, and you didn't find it in your honor to tell me?"

Fraser flinched at the sarcastic rebuke and saw Ray nod with grim satisfaction at his response. Quietly, Fraser defended himself with, "I thought you already knew, Ray."

"How was I supposed to know, Fraser? Huh? Call the Psychic Hotline?" Ray demanded sardonically.

Not giving Fraser a chance to respond, Ray began to pace. His hands rose to grasp his temples, his fingers stopping just short of sliding into his hair, then he dropped them as if to underscore the point he was about to make before changing his mind again.

"I don't get it, Fraser." This was said as Ray neared the far wall and stopped with one hand on his temple, the other on his waist, just above where the waistband of his black cutoff sweats rested.

"I just don't get it." With this pronouncement, Ray started pacing again, the hand at his temple moving to underscore his words. "You coulda said somethin' when I talked to you on the phone." Ray halted at the end of the couch and stopped once more. "I even asked if you wanted to shoot some pool with me and Ray, and you said no, you had to go to an official dinner. You could've said somethin' then, but you didn't." Ray stared accusingly at his friend.

Fraser watched with worried eyes. He knew Ray was angry with him, but it wasn't to the violent stage ... yet. He hoped it stayed that way.

"I should have," Fraser apologized sincerely. "However, given how close you and Francesca are, and given the fact that she has been rather vocal about any interaction she has with me, I presumed you would have known she was going to be my companion for the evening." He paused as the guilt he felt rose to threaten his composure.

Abruptly, he decided to sit, and after choosing the side of the couch not occupied by Dief, fiddled with the crease in his jeans. "Of course, presumptions are much like assumptions, and one should never presume what one does not know for certain, though I felt in this case--"

"Okay, okay, enough, Fraser, I get it," Ray interrupted, holding up his hands to stop Fraser from barraging him with anything more. He paced a few steps forward, then abruptly stopped to face Fraser.

Fraser waited with forced patience, his apprehension growing. He watched as the wiry man paced a few steps past him, muttering, "I gotta think about this."

Abruptly, Ray turned and faced him. Fraser fought the urge to fidget in his seat as he wondered what Ray was going to say.

"You asked Frannie for a date."

"Ray, it wasn't a date, though I will admit to being as nervous as if it was one. I wasn't sure how she would react to my proposal, since it was a last-minute request--" Fraser began only to have Ray glare at him. He bit back the rest of the explanation, and stated instead, "I suppose in Francesca's eyes, the dinner at the Philippine Consulate would be a date with me. I did not intend it to be interpreted that way."

"Didn't you think it would be?" Hurt, bewilderment, and disappointment vibrated through Ray's tone.

Fraser winced. "Well, yes, Ray, but I felt that, given the circumstances, I had made my intentions clear. Francesca seemed to understand that all I required was a simple favor. I do apologize if the impression she gave you was something more complicated."

Ray laughed shortly. "Wasn't me she talked to."

Fraser looked at him, confused. "If she didn't talk to you, then how did you.... Oh, dear. The pool game. Oh dear. Ray is going to be seriously displeased with me."

"Forget about Vecchio. Far as your ass is concerned, I'm the only Ray in your world," Ray growled, "and I'm 'seriously displeased' with you now."

Suddenly, Fraser wasn't all too certain about the wisdom of his decision to wake Ray up and attempt to explain what had happened the night before. It had seemed like a reasonable idea at the time: explain what had occurred, along with Francesca's mistaken notions, and perhaps avoid a confrontation with Ray. It didn't look as though he was going to be successful in his attempt -- unless he did something quickly.

"Ray," Fraser spoke rapidly, hoping that at least some of his words would prevent the explosion he could see forming in his friend. "I did not realize that you would be unhappy with my actions. Nor could I have foreseen that Francesca would take advantage of the situation I presented her with and act as she had last night. I thought she and I had moved to a different level of friendship, as she had stopped flirting with me eight weeks ago, and seemed more content to be just friends."

He paused for a breath, noting that Ray had stopped pacing and now stood with his arms crossed. Hoping that this posture meant Ray was willing to listen, Fraser continued speaking. "I had noticed that her attention seemed to be focused elsewhere, particularly when you were in the room, but I honestly did not think much of it until last night. You and Francesca have been always been close. I must admit, however, that, after reviewing the last eight weeks, I now see why you would be as upset with me as you are currently."

Ray sank into the chair behind him as the anger within him evaporated. Cautiously, Dief approached him, then, as if sensing Ray's volatile emotions were still simmering, chose to lay down next to the chair in which Ray sat.

Fraser took note of the wolf's caution, and decided to wait for Ray to speak.

"Eight weeks," Ray repeated. He laughed sharply. "I didn't even know for sure until last week. Before that, all I knew was that I looked at her and I didn't see her as my 'sister' anymore." He laughed again, more bitterly this time. "Thought I had a chance, you know. Then you gotta ask her for this favor. Now she'll definitely think I suck. She's always thought you were Mr. Perfect."

"I don't believe that will be the case, Ray."

"Oh? And who kicked you in the side of the head?" Ray asked acerbically.

"No one, Ray." Fraser paused, searching for the words to reassure his friend. "Francesca made her own assumptions, and while I don't claim to fully understand the complexities of the human mind, particularly those of the female gender, I can only propose that she meant to live out a long-held fantasy. Had she been honest with me about the nature of her relationship with you, I would not have asked her for the favor without consulting you first."

"So you didn't do it because you were jealous."

Fraser blinked. "Jealous of what, Ray? I have never claimed to have the kind of feelings for Francesca that you do, so how could I be jealous? Had I been interested in Francesca, I would have expressed that interest years ago. However, as I was more concerned about the risk it would pose to my friendship with Ray Vecchio, nothing ever happened between Francesca and me, despite her attempts to the contrary.

"Being happy for you and Francesca was the primary emotion I felt until I realized that she had not been completely forthright with me regarding her availability. I began to fear that when you learned of Francesca's favor to me, you would misinterpret what had happened."

Taking a deep breath, Fraser added, "I care deeply about Francesca -- and you of course. Until Maggie arrived in town, I thought Francesca would be the closest person I knew to a sister, and I was content to leave our relationship like that. Although Ray had, in a rather roundabout way, given me permission to pursue a deeper intimacy with his sister, I did not feel comfortable doing so, given the fervency he expressed in reaction to the news she showed up at my apartment one evening."

Seeing that his friend was still listening, Fraser finished his defense. "I would not do anything to intentionally hurt either you, Ray Vecchio, or Francesca. If I did so unintentionally, I do apologize. I don't want any of you to be unhappy, especially if the fault is mine."

Ray absorbed Fraser's words slowly. "I ought to kick you in the head," he threatened.

Hearing the lack of conviction behind the threat, Fraser sighed in relief. "You're not going to," he stated.

The other man shrugged. "Not today," Ray told him.

Fraser sighed in relief.

Ray grinned wickedly. "Not yet anyway."

Suspecting Ray was just teasing him, Fraser refused to rise to the bait. His suspicion was rewarded when Ray didn't pursue the statement.

Ray's smile faded quickly, however, as Fraser could see that Ray was clearly reflecting on Fraser's words. "You're saying this mess is Frannie's fault?"

"I wouldn't want to assign blame unfairly," Fraser countered, "but I do believe the evidence seems to support that theory. There were mitigating factors."

Ray snorted. "Yeah, I said something to piss her off."

The Mountie looked at his friend, surprised by the comment. "What do you mean, Ray?"

"It doesn't matter," Ray insisted. "I ain't got a shot in hell now." He laughed bitterly. "Should've listened when she said I couldn't attract a woman just by being myself, especially her." He shook his head, remembering the advice she'd once given him.

"Being someone other than yourself would be less than honest, Ray," Fraser remarked, frowning.

Ray shot him a quick grin. "Come on, Frase, it's not like I ain't got lots of practice at pretendin' to be someone else. Maybe I'll throw on a red suit and be you for a while. Think Frannie would like me better then?"

The Mountie sighed. There had been a time when he'd believed Ray to be a man of rapidly changing emotions, but that time was long past. He'd come to learn that the parade of openly shown feelings was sometimes nothing more than a mask meant to conceal the deeper hurt. Staring at his friend now, Fraser knew the casually delivered speculation held a minefield of pain.

"I don't think that would work, Ray," he quietly informed the other man. "Francesca knows you and would not be easily fooled." He paused as a fragment of remembered conversation struck him. "Though it is entirely possible that something you said to her triggered a memory of someone else, her ex-husband perhaps, and for a moment, she mistook you for him."

Ray gaped at him. Hope flickered to life in his eyes. "Nothing's that easy, Frase," he argued.

"What if it is?" Fraser countered. "How will you know if you don't speak with her? You did say that you were going over to fix her car later today?"

Ray swore. "Yeah, I guess I'd better do that. But I ain't talking to her. She shouldn't have used you like that." Under his breath, he muttered, "Shouldn't have fooled me like that."

Fraser heard the comment, but decided to let it go in the interest of friendship. He wanted Ray to be happy, and it was clear to him that his friend was miserable.

"You aren't interested in Frannie." Ray's look dared him to say otherwise.

Fraser blinked, taken aback by the intensity of Ray's stare. "If you mean romantically, no, I'm not, though she is an attractive woman."

Ray's smile finally became genuine. "Good, good," he said. "For a moment there, you had me worried. You never talk about a woman, I was beginning to think you never even notice them."

"I do notice them," Fraser corrected. "I do not, however, feel the need to pursue them as avidly as you have in the past."

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Do you really think I got a chance?" Ray asked, his voice an aching blend of hope and cynicism.

Fraser didn't have to ask to know what Ray meant. "Would I lie to you?"

"No," Ray answered without hesitation. "You just wouldn't tell me the truth, which, my friend, is a kind of lying."

Fraser rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension there. "I believe you have a chance, yes." Deliberately, he withheld the rest of his thought. He wasn't entirely certain that Francesca wasn't playing him against Ray, and trying to see who was the one who'd fight for her more. It was an unfair thought, and Fraser hoped he was wrong.

"Okay," Ray agreed readily. "Let's get going then. I don't know about you, but I'm starving, and Ma's bound to have pancakes."

"May I remind you that Mrs. Vecchio isn't really your mother?" Fraser felt compelled to point out as Ray headed for his bedroom to grab a change of clothes.

Ray stopped in the hallway, just short of his bedroom, and turned. "You ever argue with Ma about that?" he asked seriously.

Fraser rubbed an eyebrow. "It is proper etiquette to call a person not related to you by their--" he began, only to meet his friend's gaze. "I tried once," he admitted.

Ray snickered. "I can see that, Fraser. I can definitely see that."

So saying, Ray continued into the bedroom, leaving Fraser to wait and contemplate the complex dynamics of his and Ray's relationship with one very determined Italian mother. Even as Fraser began his musings, he wondered if Ray would speak with said Italian mother's daughter.

Fraser hoped so. While he didn't approve of Francesca's dishonesty the night before, he wanted Ray to be happy. More than anyone, Fraser knew that Stella's relationship with Ray Vecchio had devastated Ray Kowalski, and while both Rays had recovered, neither spoke to Stella unless it was business related. Francesca would be the first woman Ray Kowalski had been truly serious with since before he and Fraser had left for Canada.

Fraser smiled to himself. He could read the signs, especially in the light of hindsight, and knew that Ray was falling in love. Briefly, Fraser considered mentioning his theory to Ray, then remembered that discretion was always the better part of valor.

With that thought in mind, Fraser decided it would be best if he did not spend a long time at the Vecchios'. He wasn't sure how Francesca would react, and wasn't entirely certain he wanted to be there when Ray confronted her.

It was nearly noon when Frannie woke. Groggily, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee from the coffeepot near the stove. As she sipped the steaming beverage, she realized that the house was unusually quiet. Through the open windows, she could hear someone's stereo playing rock music. From the proximity, she figured it was coming from the driveway.

Ray must be working on my car, she thought. Still half-asleep, she wandered back upstairs, sipping coffee as she went, to shower and change. It wasn't until several minutes into her shower that she truly woke up.

"Oh my God," she sputtered, blinking and then swearing some more as shampoo trailed down into her eyes. Hastily, she rinsed the shampoo out of her eyes.

If Ray's here, then where's everyone else? I didn't hear Ray leave last night, and I know I didn't fall asleep until the sun came up. What am I going to say?

Worried and apprehensive, she finished her shower. She chose her outfit carefully, not wanting to look like she took any extra effort, but not wanting to look like she'd just crawled out of bed, either. Finally, she decided on something close to her usual Saturday attire: stonewashed jeans with cutwork hearts down the sides of the legs and a matching rose-hued top in with a deep V neckline. To that she added silver jewelry and a pair of coordinating flat-heeled shoes. After applying a light hand with her makeup and then saying a fast but fervent prayer heavenward, she felt ready to face the world.

A check of the driveway through her bedroom windows revealed that the hood of her Cavalier was up. Beside it, the black GTO she'd recognize anywhere was parked. She couldn't see anyone standing out there, but she knew Ray had to be somewhere close by.

Here's your chance to make things right, she thought. Just go down there and apologize and maybe if you're lucky he won't even mention where you were last night.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out of her bedroom.

She nearly hesitated as she stepped out into the driveway. Her breath caught as she drank in the sight of him, dressed in a faded, grease-stained white NASCAR T-shirt, blue jeans so faded they appeared nearly white, and his ever-present black boots. From her position at the foot of the step at the kitchen door, she watched as he leaned over the engine to make some kind of adjustment, stretching the worn denim into defining the curves of his ass and legs. Desire flamed into life as she admired his form.

Get a grip, Frannie, she chided herself sternly. You have to talk to him.

She looked at him again, remembering how she'd screwed things up. I've probably lost my chance, she thought miserably. Maybe I should just let him go instead.

Without at least thanking him for fixing the starter? a voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother's reproached her.

With that thought foremost in her mind, she spoke. "Thanks for fixing my car."

Ray turned so abruptly he nearly hit his elbow on one of the sideview mirrors. "Frannie," he gasped.

"Hello, Ray." Frannie was amazed her voice sounded so normal. "I didn't think you were still gonna fix my car."

He smiled, but Frannie saw the quickly concealed hurt flash in his eyes. "I promised I would, didn't I?" He shut the hood of her car, taking more care than Frannie would have.

"Yeah, but I told you I didn't want you for anything." The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Ray froze. Then, muscle by muscle, he reached into the car for a rag to wipe his greasy hands. "Well, in that case, you don't owe me for anything," he told her carefully.

His hands now relatively clean, he reached in and started up her car. The motor sprang into life. He let it run for a few minutes, then shut off the car. "Good as new," he commented. His eyes never met hers.

He picked up a toolbox from the ground and hefted it easily into the open trunk of his GTO. Shutting the trunk, he moved to get into the driver's seat. Belatedly, Frannie realized he intended to leave.

"Wait," Frannie said, stopping him.

He stood with the car door between him and Frannie. "What?" he demanded, crossing his arms.

Okay, you've got his attention now, so say something, she chided herself as suddenly, words deserted her. Frannie swallowed nervously and cleared her throat. "I wanted to talk to you."

"So talk." He stared at her as if she was some criminal he had to interrogate.

What now?, Frannie thought in panic as suddenly, all the fear and self-loathing rose to seal her lips shut. "I'm sorry I slapped you." She took a deep breath. "And for what I said. I wasn't listening like I should've been, which the magazines always say isn't a good thing to do, but I did it, and now I'm sorry. For everything."

Still, the wariness didn't leave his eyes. Silently, Frannie cursed her talent for speaking without thinking. Why can't I ever say anything right? she wondered as something cold and lonely started to grow where her heart was.

Just then, a sky blue mini-van pulled up behind Frannie's car, and her nieces and nephews came tumbling out of it, streaming like banners in the wind into the house, with Maria and Tony following a few seconds behind their children. Behind it, a familiar green Riviera pulled up, and Frannie saw her brother get out and quickly help their mother out of the vehicle. Her heart sank as she realized the moment was lost.

Ray seemed to know it as well. "Hey, Ray," he called to the other man with relief so evident in his tone it made Frannie sick to hear it. "You're late. You were supposed to be here a half hour ago. You lose your way back from seeing Uncle Giovanni at the nursing home?"

Frannie exhaled, feeling the breath sink all the way to her shoes along with the hope and courage she'd amassed. She watched as Ray proceeded to bond with her brother in that uniquely male way of traded insults and veiled threats, then charm her mother when she scolded them for their words.

Both men bid Ma farewell as she headed into the house after their insistence that they were both grown men, capable of going to the basketball game they'd planned to watch together without Ma's reminders to be safe, and then proceeded to argue about who was driving to the game. All the while, they completely ignored her. For a moment, Frannie could be fooled into thinking that nothing had changed, she'd never kissed Ray Kowalski, and he hadn't kissed her back with the intense passion of a five-alarm blaze. The way he and her brother were acting was no different than a hundred other days when they both were around her, and the realization made her want to cry.

She wanted so much to be accepted by her family for choosing the right man. Instinctively, she knew that Ray Kowalski wasn't her ex-husband, but she was trapped by old fears and the lingering remains of the scars her ex had incurred. She'd thought she was stronger than this indecisive creature who stood lamely in the driveway, but it was more than crystal clear to her now that she wasn't all that she'd thought herself to be.

This can't go on, she thought, despairing. God, please help me. There's got to be something that I can do, something more that I can say to make Ray believe that I'm sincere.

"Hey, Francesca," her sister interrupted her thoughts. "You gonna stand there all day or are you gonna help me get the groceries out of the mini-van so Ma can get dinner started?"

"Get Tony to help you," Frannie muttered, irritated, the refusal coming automatically to her lips as her sister paused beside her with a paper bag full of groceries.

"What? You gonna stand there looking for Fraser?" Maria shot back. "He left hours ago--there was something about some emergency at the Consulate."

"I'm not looking for Fraser," Frannie denied.

Maria shifted the bag so it rested more securely on her hip. "Then get your ass in gear. There ain't nobody out there worth staring at."

"That's where you're wrong," Frannie said hotly.

"Oh yeah?" Maria taunted. "Betcha you're too chicken to prove it."

Frannie had never been one to turn down a dare, especially one from a sibling. Maria's dismissal of Ray Kowalski's looks rankled. Forgetting her despair, she took Maria's dare. "No, I'm not," she retorted.

Without stopping to think, she brushed past her sister and marched up to the blond detective just as he started to get into her brother's Riviera. Grabbing hold of his upper arms, she hustled him away from the car door until his back was against the rear side of the vehicle. Then she kissed him.

The feel of his lips against hers sent shock waves through her veins, even though she'd been braced for it and for the sudden stiffening of his body. Automatically, her hands sought purchase around his arms, her fingers digging into the sleek muscles even as she closed her eyes and fought the urge to pull back. She didn't want to lose this moment, fearing that if she looked into his eyes, she'd find a truth she didn't want to know reflected in them.

Suddenly, she was tired of being confused, tired of dreaming big dreams and watching them shatter like dropped crystal, tired of never having someone to love her back the way she wanted to be loved. As if a light from Heaven spotlighted her and ignited a switch in her brain, she knew the only way to save her chance with Ray was to show him.

Now.

With her brother and sister watching, and no doubt, Ma and Tony from the kitchen.

Ignoring the lump of apprehension that unexpectedly wedged in her stomach, Frannie rode out the shocked pleasure of the feel of Ray's body against hers, of her lips pressed against his. Breathing in the sensation, she then deepened the kiss.

She felt Ray shudder against her, his hands rising as if to push her away, but coming to rest instead just above her hips, pulling her in closer.

This, she thought hazily as he began to kiss her back, is the reason why nothing else matters.

"Ah, geez, guys, can't you get a room?" her brother's voice cut into the sensual fog surrounding her.

As if her brother had dumped a bucket of ice water on her, Frannie jerked back, nearly pulling away in her shock. His grip on her hips stopped her, tightening when she would have broken free. Breathing heavily, she stared into Ray's eyes. Silently, she willed him to say something, anything, for she wasn't sure how long she could stand there.

Ray studied her, his eyes drinking in the half-embarrassed flush of her cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest as she tried to regain control of her breathing. Time seemed to crystallize, and Frannie became hyperaware of her surroundings. Without taking her gaze off Ray, she could see her brother standing on the other side of the car, the fingers of his left hand drumming impatiently on the roof of the Riviera. With the attention to detail that came with hyperawareness, she noted that her brother's ring finger still bore the faint outline of his wedding ring.

She could hear Maria moving behind her, no doubt playing a shameless voyeur as she systematically emptied the minivan of its load of groceries. Idly, Frannie wondered if the loose curler in Maria's hair had fallen yet, then wondered why she was even caring about something so inane when the man Frannie wanted more than anyone hadn't spoken what she needed to hear, hadn't yet forgiven her for mess she'd made.

The silence stretched like a worn-out rubber band, then snapped. Blinking as if he'd been hit by that rubber band, Ray Kowalski smiled slowly.

"You meant what you said earlier," he stated, a question in his voice.

Frannie nodded. "I'm sorry. For sticking my foot in my mouth when I should've been thinking first." She took a deep breath, abruptly aware that her brother had stopped drumming his fingers on the roof of the Riviera. Some part of her wondered what that meant and grew afraid. With that, the words she meant to say -- that she'd realized she loved Ray Kowalski -- died unspoken.

Fearing she hadn't said enough, Frannie stared at Ray and waited for his response as apprehension made reservations for permanent residence in her stomach.

Ray's smile turned into a grin, and he pulled her even closer. "You sure make me crazy, Frannie," he told her.

Somehow, with those words, she knew she'd been forgiven. The fear she felt dissipated, and she felt suddenly lighter than air. A smile started to tug on the corners of her mouth.

"Hey," the voice of her brother cut into her thoughts again. "You guys gonna stand there all day or you gonna move elsewhere? In case some people have forgotten, there is a game I'm gonna be late to if they don't get their ass in gear and off my car."

"Whine, bitch, moan and complain," Ray shot back, his gaze never leaving Frannie as he responded to her brother. "You ever do anything else, Vecchio?"

"You wanna get your hands off my sister and we'll talk about what else I could be doing?"

Ray chuckled. Frannie could tell he wasn't intimidated by her brother's threat. "Promises, promises," he said mockingly.

In a lower tone meant only for her ears, he told her, "After the game... we'll talk, okay?"

Frannie nodded. "Okay."

Ray smiled and dropped a quick kiss on her lips before releasing her.

Stepping back, she let him get into the car with her brother. A few minutes later, the Riviera pulled out of the driveway.

She watched it go, then turned back towards the house. As she started up the step into the kitchen, her eyes caught sight of a pink plastic roller off to the side of the step. Recognizing it as Maria's loose curler, Frannie started giggling and couldn't stop. When her mother came out to ask her what was so funny that her mother could hear her laughing through the open windows, Frannie had no answer. Sobering quickly, Frannie went into the house and up to her room to wait.

As it turned out, the game ran longer than scheduled. Worn out by the roller coaster of emotions she'd gone through that day, Frannie fell asleep before Ray and her brother returned. She woke to the feel of Ray kissing her, and nearly thought it was a dream. Then she realized the light in her bedroom was on, and blinked against the sudden glare.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he murmured. "Sorry we were gone so long." He smiled and shifted position on the edge of her bed.

Hastily, she scooted over so he had more room, and sat up.

"It's okay," she told him.

She ran a hand through her hair, and wished for a brush, thinking she had to look positively horrific with her hair all messed up from slumber, wrinkles in her clothes, and imprints on her forearms from the crocheted afghan she'd wrapped around herself.

"You want anything? Coffee? I'll get it if you want. Ma said she left some dinner for you if you're hungry."

Frannie shook her head. "No, thanks."

Suddenly, she was afraid if she left her room, everything would change. The moment was crystallizing again, and she didn't want to lose this feeling of being loved, of being wanted no matter what she looked like. Needing to hold on to that feeling, she groped for Ray's hand and grasped it tightly.

He glanced down at their hands, then looked up at her. "You know," he remarked, "your brother razzed me about you all the way to the game and back."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I told him he could stuff it. I'm not going anywhere." He paused. "Not unless you want me to."

She closed her eyes against the wave of pain the thought of Ray leaving produced. Opening them again, she answered, "No. I don't want you to go. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to. I get mixed up sometimes and I get scared and I do things I wish I could take back." She laughed softly, self-mockingly. "My ex-husband used to say I was better off not thinking, because I always got in trouble if I did."

"Your ex was a jerk," Ray declared flatly.

Frannie hugged her arms close to her chest. "Yeah, well, I learned a lot from him." She breathed deeply. "The way you make me feel -- I get all confused inside and I don't know what to think, because it feels as strong as it did when I was falling in love with him." She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Don't do that," Ray admonished her in a near growl. "Don't go confusing him with me."

Startled by the tone of his voice, Frannie opened her eyes, relaxed her arms, and looked at him. She was immediately caught by the passion she read in his gaze.

"I ain't perfect, I suck at marriage; at least I did with Stella," Ray continued urgently. "I'm not gonna lie to you and say that I'm anywhere close to being Mr. Perfect like Fraser, but I'm in love with you and I won't ever let anyone hurt you if I can help it, even if being in love with you scares the shit outta me."

Frannie stared at him, unable to believe what she'd just heard. She let go the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Ray didn't seem to notice, too caught up in what he had to say as, he nervously broke his gaze to stare at his hands. "Guess if you're scared enough to be thinking of your ex, that makes us about even. I messed up a lot of things with Stella. I don't wanna do that again with you, and maybe I'm just one great fuckup--"

"You're not a fuckup," Frannie interrupted.

"-- and maybe I'm no great prize --" he continued as if he hadn't heard,

"Ray," she interrupted again, more forcefully this time.

"Maybe I--"

"Ray." Gently, she brought his chin up, figuring that was the only way to grab his attention, since it was clear she wasn't getting through. "Do you forgive me?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment. Abruptly, he exhaled. "Yeah," he said jerkily. "I love you. I can forgive you for anything."

Frannie smiled, reading the shadows of old, half-slain dragons in his body language, shadows she knew far too intimately. The echoes of those dragons' flames resonated in her and she recognized his fears as matching her own. The knowledge gave her unexpected strength.

"I love you, Ray," she stated quietly, strongly. "Not like a brother, though God knows I looked at you that way for a long time. I'm not sure where this love is gonna lead us, but I don't want to lose it. I don't want to lose you to something stupid, and I gotta admit, slapping you was pretty stupid and uncalled for."

She paused, trying to gauge his reaction. He was so still, but the fear in his eyes was fading, and a kind of timid hope was flaring to life in its place. A part of her wanted to reach out to him, to take his hands in hers again, but she didn't dare move, afraid she'd lose the momentum of her words. She took a deep breath and plunged onward.

"Maybe we're both just two screwed up people 'cos of all the crap we've been through in the past with other people, but I always thought there was something to that birds of a feather thing."

Ray's smile blossomed slowly. "Yeah," he agreed.

Their eyes met. In one forward motion, Frannie was in Ray's arms, and the kiss that followed was enough to make a host of angels sigh.

*** Finis **

©2.13.00, 10.30.00 Alice in Stonyland

1. Lucky 13, Icecat , and Anna McLain for the beta and encouragement,
2. Debbie Hann, who made a scene go "pop" in my head, then beta'd the rest,
3. the members of RSY who read the first part and convinced me not to kill the fic,
4. and lastly, Amand-r and Dana, the best friends I  didn't meet for two years. Gracias, chicas, for the beta-ing, the late-night chatting, and for more than I can say.