Small Fry

This story features characters from Due South most notably Benton Fraser & Ray Kowalski, as well as others. Characters property of Alliance, everything else is MINE ALL MINE! This is the fourth in the "Fishing" series, and a direct a sequel to "Hook, Line & Sinker."

Rated NC-17 for graphic sexuality (M/M). If you're considered a minor in your community please do not read this. If you're narrow-minded or easily offended, you may want to take a pass as well. I'm also putting a strong 'diabetic coma' warning on this story. It's sappy. I can't help it. Every once in awhile just I have this overwhelming need to make a character's dreams come true. :-}

Timeline-wise this is set some four months or so after "The Call of the Wild," the series finale of Due South. Please note this is not a 'fixit' story. If you're going to get upset by seeing Fraser with Ray K., then you probably want to skip this one.

Many thanks to my beta readers, Marina Bailey, Debra Ann Fiorini, and Carol Ann Liddiard.

Small Fry

c. 1999, Kellie Matthews

        Benton Fraser sat on the porch step of the cabin that had been rebuilt on his father's land. It was good to be home again, to have a home again. He looked across the yard to where Ray was occupied with feeding the dogs with sure and practiced movements. Just a few months ago he would have been half-afraid to go near them, now he was an old hand. Ben still had to smile at his attire. Though the day was relatively warm, Ray was bundled into a heavy fur parka that seemed about ready to consume him. Ben's half-sister, Maggie stood beside him, watching the same man. She turned and looked at Ben, at the warm smile curving his mouth, then punched him lightly in the arm.
        "See, I knew he didn't really want me."
        Fraser looked back at her, smiling slightly. "So it would appear."
        She grinned. "He just wanted me because I was a female you."
        "A female ewe?" Fraser echoed artlessly. "Aren't ewes are always female?"
        She hit him. He laughed, picked up a handful of snow and tossed it at her. She scrabbled a snowball for herself and hit him square in the face. Within seconds the battle had been joined and they were lobbing snow at each other for all they were worth, until an indignant voice managed to penetrate their laughter.
        "Hey there nutballs! Truce 'til I get past, okay? I'm freezin'! I gotta get ins . . ."
        The protest cut off mid-word as they turned as one and hurled their frigid ammunition at him instead. Apparently their target had been expecting something of the sort, because he already had his parka-clad arm in front of his face so they didn't get skin. Then, grinning, he popped each of them one with the snowballs he'd been carrying. As they were wiping snow off their faces he dashed past them and into the cabin, slamming the door closed behind himself. Maggie finished first, laughing and shaking her head.
        "He plays dirty."
        "Yes, he does," Fraser agreed, grinning. "It's part of his charm."
        She looked from the cabin door, back to her brother. "You seem happy," she said, but her inflection went up at the end of the sentence so he knew it was a question, not a statement. He nodded.
        "Yes, Maggie. I am."
        "And is he?" She asked quietly.
        Fraser considered that, and nodded, slowly. "I think so. We . . . fit."
        "Good. I'm glad," she said warmly, putting her hand over his, patting lightly. Then she looked away and let her hand drop away from his.
        Sensing a change in her mood, his eyes searched her face carefully. "And you, Maggie? Are you happy these days?"
        Maggie shrugged. "As happy as I can be, all things considered."
        She was thinking of Casey, he was sure. He couldn't bring himself to utter a platitude about finding someone else someday. He knew that might not happen. Instead he reached out and touched her shoulder, a gesture of support and understanding.
        "I'm sorry, Maggie. It must be very difficult."
        She nodded. "It is. The other day I was cleaning out some old papers and things, stuff I hadn't touched since, well, since he . . . was killed. It kind of brought it all home again. There was so much we were going to do, so many plans, and now, he's gone, and none of those things will ever happen."
        "You never know what the future holds."
        She shot him a slightly annoyed look. "Yes, I can. In some of this, at least. I don't know that I could ever trust a man that much again. I mean, I can trust you, but you're my brother. I can probably trust Ray, because you two are together. But to trust some other man with myself, with my heart. . . I don't think so. It hurts too much."
        Ben closed his eyes briefly, remembering those wounds, those feelings. He understood. Completely. "Maggie, I've felt that way myself, twice. You can get through it, it is possible, I promise you that."
        "I'm not sure I want to, all things considered," she said softly. "Still, sometimes I wish . . ." her voice trailed off and she shook herself. "Well, enough about that. I'm just glad you and Ray are doing well. I have to say, I was surprised when I realized that you were more than just partners and friends. I mean, when I was in Chicago, there didn't seem to be anything more between you."
        "There wasn't, not then. It happened not long after you left, and frankly, at first I was as surprised as you. It seemed so unlikely, yet as you say we are doing well. Though sometimes I . . . well, never mind that."
        She looked at him sharply. "Do I sense a little hesitation there?"
        Fraser sighed, and looked at her. There was something. He didn't like to think about it, but it did sometimes concern him. "Perhaps," he admitted finally.
        "About what?"
        "About the things I can't give him. I think about those things, probably more often than I should. You knew Ray was married for quite some time, right?" At her nod, he continued. "Long before we became lovers, he talked to me about his marriage and why it failed. There were many things of course, there's rarely a single cause for something like that, but one of the principal difficulties was apparently that she was an attorney with a promising career and Ray wanted children."
        "Ah," Maggie said quietly after a moment. "I see."
        "It became an insurmountable obstacle."
        "And you worry that it might become one for you, as well?"
        Ben sighed. "He hasn't mentioned it since we've been together, but I can't help but remember that it once meant a great deal to him."
        Maggie nodded. "I can understand that. It would be hard not to wonder, to worry."
        "Exactly," he sighed. "I just have to trust that we can surmount that obstacle, should it appear."
        Maggie nodded solemnly, looking into his face. There was a slightly haunted quality to her gaze that made him ache for her, and wish he could help, but there was really no way to do so. Her pain would have to die a natural death.
        The front door opened, and Ray stuck his head out. "You two done with the Big Brother-Little Sister chat, yet? I was lookin' at the stew, and I wondered if I should I put anise or ginger in it?"
        Maggie and Ben looked at each other in dismay and both scrambled for the door. It wasn't generally safe to leave Ray alone with food. Fraser had attempted to teach him the rudiments of seasonings, but being on the trail with little variety available to him he hadn't had much luck. Every time he and Ray stopped somewhere with a real kitchen and more than four types of herb or spice, he was inclined to . . . experiment. This particular experiment needed to be nipped in the bud before he ruined a perfectly good stew.

* * *

        Ray was feeling mellow. He hadn't expected to take to life in the Great Northwest, but he found himself more and more at home here, aside from being cold all the time. Or at least that percentage of the time when Fraser wasn't wrapped around him like a blanket. He smiled, flattening a hand across his still-full stomach. It seemed like Fraser was always feeding him to try to put some insulation on his bones, but so far it hadn't worked. He was as skinny as ever, though in better condition than he'd ever before achieved. He guessed it was just his fate to be thin.
        He looked over at Fraser where he sat reading by the light of a kerosene lantern, then shifted his gaze past his lover to Maggie, sitting at the table writing a report. They both looked very 'at home' here too. Of course they would, since it was home for them. The room was silent, save for the sounds of the fire in the woodstove, the slight scratching of pen against paper, and the occasional turn of a page. Strangely, he felt quite at home, himself. When they'd first started out on their search for the Hand of Franklin, Ray had thought he would go stark raving nuts from boredom, but although they hadn't located the legendary explorer, he actually had found an unexpected reservoir of inner peace, which was probably a more useful thing to have found, anyway.
        He'd learned the distraction of physical exertion, the satisfaction of accomplishment, and without the constant input of 'civilization' the frenetic flow of his brain had actually slowed a little. He'd learned to enjoy silence, and the blaze of uncountable stars against a black, not pinkish sky. He let his gaze go back to Fraser's face, and wondered if he would ever miss television again. Funny how the things you didn't think you could do without were sometimes the things you missed the least. Now, good Chinese food, that he missed. Somehow stir-fried venison with pine nuts and field greens just wasn't quite the same.
        He was strangely reluctant to go back to the place he had called home for most of his life, reluctant to leave this new home that felt more like home than home ever had. He smiled at that convoluted thought. It would be strange to feel asphalt under his feet instead of snow, and rock, and earth. He would miss the unfettered sky, the clean air, the smell of woodsmoke, the sound of wolves in the distance. All of it.
        And then there was Fraser. He was different here, too. Gentler. More innocent. More joyous. He'd lost that hint of 'edge' he'd developed in Chicago. He was just more . . . Fraser here. Ray wondered now how Ben had stood being out of his element for so long. Now that he realized what it had cost his partner to stay in Chicago when he could have transferred much closer to home, he appreciated his staying all the more. To do that had taken loyalty of a kind that even now Ray couldn't quite comprehend, especially considering what a jerk he'd been most of the time.
        He remembered something he'd heard once in church, not that he'd paid a lot of attention in church, but at the time he'd been about fourteen years old and already in love with Stella, and the words had just sounded so right. "Whither thou goest, I go." Funny, at the time he'd thought it was weird that a woman would say that to another woman. Now he understood. He felt that way about Fraser.
        As if aware of his thoughts, Fraser closed his book and looked up at Ray, a smile lighting his face. After all this time, Ray still sometimes had trouble believing that smile was for him. Every once in awhile he found himself glancing over his shoulder to see who Fraser was looking at. He felt a flare of desire, as he always did when he saw that smile, the warmth in those gorgeous, and amazingly innocent blue eyes. How the man could have done some of the things he had, see the things he'd seen, and yet still retain that sense of childlike wonder Ray didn't know, but he wasn't going to question it, either. He was just going to accept it and be thankful.
        Ben stood up, stretching, and Ray let his gaze slide down his body, knowing what it looked like under that thermal top, and those snug flannel-lined jeans. His mouth watered.
        Maggie looked up from her report. "Turning in?"
        Ben nodded. "I believe so. Ray?"
        "Sounds good to me," he rolled off the couch and joined Fraser by the door to put on his boots, then pulled their parkas from the hooks beside the door. Shrugging into his, he handed the other to Fraser. "G'night Maggie. Sweet dreams."
        She looked at him for a long moment, with an odd, thoughtful expression on her face, then she seemed to come back to herself and she smiled. "Good night, Ray, Ben. Sleep well."
        "Oh, we will," Ray said, winking at her, amused to see her color slightly. She was just as easy to embarrass as Ben.
        He wondered sometimes if she wasn't lonely. Then he remembered her husband, and figured she was probably still getting over that. He felt bad for her. She was Ben's sister, and that sort of made her his sister. Good thing Casey the jerkface was already dead, he thought darkly, pulling his parka closed as Fraser opened the door and the cold swirled into the room.
        Damn, this was the part he hated. He knew that the stove in the barn would be going, and their bed would be warm once they got there, but getting from here to there was a pain in the ass. But since the cabin essentially had only two rooms they'd opted for the barn while Maggie was visiting. Privacy was worth a walk in the cold. Especially since he and Ben both tended to be rather . . . vocal.

* * *

        Maggie sat for a long time, staring at her report, not seeing the page, not writing. Ever since her conversation with Ben that afternoon, she had been preoccupied, worrying at the problem he had revealed to her. The more she'd thought about it, the more she thought she might have an answer, and almost unconsciously she'd begun to think about details, about what would have to be done to make it work. The more she thought about it, the more determined she got, and there was very little that a determined Maggie Mackenzie couldn't accomplish. She went to the kitchen and started digging until she found what she was looking for, then put on her boots and her parka, and set off across the snow to the barn.
        Lights glowed from within so she knew they were still awake. Without really thinking about it, she thumbed back the latch, and swung the inset door open, then froze. Oh dear. She backed up quickly, closing the door quietly, trying to pretend she hadn't just seen what she'd seen. Her face felt like someone had poured boiling water on it. She fanned a hand at her cheek, trying to stop blushing.
        She really shouldn't be surprised. After all, Ray had dropped hints that only someone devoid of any social skills whatsoever could possibly have missed. It was just that she had got the bit between her teeth and forgotten. Good heavens. For such a slender guy, he was certainly . . . built. All muscle. Thankfully Ben had been too tangled in blankets and Ray to be very visible. She really did not want to know what her half-brother looked like in the altogether.
        After several moments without either of them coming to the door, she realized they must not have noticed her. Thank goodness. She quietly left the barn and went back to the house. Now that she'd had a few minutes to think about it, she realized it was just as well. Probably best to talk to Ben about her idea in the morning, privately, rather than charging in full-steam ahead as she usually did.

* * *

        Ben stepped out of the barn into the cold half-light of morning and started across to the cabin. Then he stopped, looking down at the snow, frowning slightly. There were his footprints in last night's dusting of fresh snow, and Ray's, and . . . a third set. Smaller. Whoever it was had gone to the barn using long, determined strides, but had left it less certainly.
        He knelt and checked one of the prints. Not fresh. The snow had hardened around it, probably several hours worth of glaze. Odd. He followed the smaller set, found it led back to the cabin, and stood outside for a long moment, staring at the door, frowning. Why would Maggie have come out to the barn last night, and then gone back to the cabin without completing whatever errand she had meant to accomplish?
        It took only a few seconds thought before the answer occurred to him. He shook his head, feeling a slight flush in his face that had nothing to do with the wind-chill. Well, that would certainly explain it. His father's children might not be terribly swift when it came to interpersonal relations, but they were very tactful. He moved up the stairs and quietly let himself into the cabin.
        The fire in the woodstove had died to coals, and he took a few moments to build it up before turning to the pantry and taking out a bowl and the flour. As he did, he noticed an item sitting on the counter that he was sure they hadn't used last night. Nor were they likely to be using it soon, as it wasn't the right season for goose, or duck. Pushing it to one side, he measured flour, powdered milk, salt, and soda into the bowl, then added an egg from the icebox, and lukewarm water from the kettle, stirring to make a batter. Setting the bowl aside, he got out the griddle and set it on the stove.
        "Morning, Bro!" Maggie said cheerfully, coming from the bedroom into the main cabin. She was wrapped warmly in a blanket-robe and sheepskin slippers. "Thanks for stoking the fire. I guess I overslept. I was up a little late last night."
        Her voice seemed overly bright as she sidled toward the counter. He turned to the stove and held a hand over the griddle to check the temperature. Close. A few more degrees. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her grab the basting syringe from the counter and slip it up her sleeve. Odd. What on earth would she want with that?
        He was about to ask, when it dawned on him that her action had been rather surreptitious. Even more odd. Suddenly something he'd once read on an informational website for alternative lifestyles floated to the surface of his mind, and his eyes widened. No. Not Maggie. She couldn't be thinking of . . . could she?
        "So, was there something you wanted, last night?" he asked casually.
        She stared at him, eyes huge. "Um, why do you ask?"
        He turned and looked at her evenly. "I noticed your footprints in the snow outside."
        She turned bright red. "Oh. I, ah, well, I was going to ask you guys something, but then I realized you were. . . uh, probably, um. . . asleep."
        He chuckled. "Ah." He spooned two circles of batter onto the griddle. "So, what was it you wanted to ask?" He wasn't going to go further, but he couldn't resist. "Might it have had something to do with preparing roast fowl?"
        She stared at him. Her hands fisted on her hips, her eyes narrowed. "You rat! You saw it, didn't you?"
        He grinned. "I could hardly miss it, Maggie."
        She made a growling noise and glared at him. "That was mean."
        "Sorry. Sometimes my sense of humor gets the best of me."
        "So I see." Then she grinned, sheepishly. "I suppose this teasing stuff is one of those brother-sister things we missed out on, not growing up together."
        He nodded. "I suspect so." He studied her face intently. "But honestly, what were you wanting to ask?"
        She sighed, and took a seat at the table. "I was thinking about what you said yesterday."
        He waited. She wasn't forthcoming. He prodded. "I said a lot of things yesterday, which one in particular were you thinking about?" He was pretty sure he knew. After all, the baster was a dead giveaway. Even he'd heard of that trick.
        She bit her lip, and drew a pattern on the table with a fingertip. "I, well, about Ray wanting kids."
        Yep. Dead on target. "And?"
        "And, well, I was thinking maybe, maybe I could help."
        There it was. He started to smile. Setting the bowl down, he went and took her hands in his. "Maggie, that's incredibly generous of you, and I appreciate the offer more than I can say, but it's really not necessary. If, and when, it becomes an issue, we'll deal with it then."
        She sighed and looked into his eyes, revealing hints of familiar, though now-distant pain there. "Ben, I thought about this all night," she confessed, her voice a whisper. "I'd like to do this for you, I really would. You two saved my life, my career, everything. Without you I'd most likely be dead, or rotting in jail somewhere. Not only that, but you've invited me into your life, both of you, without reservation. You're my family, the family I always wanted to have, and this means so much to you, and to him. And since I'm your sister, it would almost be like it was your own."
        "Maggie, you don't owe us anything," he said, concerned. "Please don't feel you do."
        "Oh, no! I didn't mean it that way. I know I don't owe you, I was .just trying to explain why I wanted to be able to do this for you, to give something you might not otherwise ever have. It could work, you know it could. If you requested a posting here, then you and Ray could be here to help, to participate. . . Let me give you this, please?"
        "Maggie," Ben said gently. "Ray and I are going back to Chicago, you know that."
        She sighed. "Yes, I know. But, Ben, Ray seems happy here ."
        "Ray is happy here," came a voice from the doorway. "But the place is probably gonna burn down if ya don't get those whatever-they-are's off the stove."
        Startled, Ben turned first to see Ray in the door, then swivelled around to find smoke rising in plumes from two carbonizing pancakes. He quickly grabbed the spatula and removed them from the heat, flipping them neatly into the sink and pouring water on them to stop the smoke. By the time he'd finished dealing with the near-disaster, Ray had moved into the room, and was looking from Ben to Maggie and back.
        "Why do I get the feeling I missed something important?" he asked.
        Maggie stared at him, then blushed even redder than she had when Ben had told her he'd noticed her footprints, and jumped to her feet.
        "I'll just go get dressed," she said in strangled tones as she dashed back into the bedroom. A moment later her portable CD-player came on loudly, playing something that sounded vaguely like a cross between Cajun and Camadian Aboriginal music.
        Ray stared after her, frowning. "She get up on the wrong side of bed this morning or what?"
        "Or what, I think." Ben said, sighing. "I'm afraid I may have inadvertently precipitated a bit of a problem."
        Ray put on his 'surprised' face. "You? Benton Fraser, RCMP, cause a problem? Never!"
        Fraser sighed, exasperated. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."
        "So, what'd ya do?"
        Uh oh. Ben was just beginning to realize that he might be in trouble on two fronts here. "I, um . . ."
        Ray sighed. "Oh boy. I can tell it must involve me or you wouldn't be 'umming' like that. Spit it out, Fraser. What'd ya do?"
        "Well, she asked me if I was happy."
        Ray's gaze grew wary. "And you said. . .?"
        Ben smiled. "I said I was."
        Relief bloomed in Ray's eyes, and he sighed. "So far so good. So why were you 'umming?'"
        "Well, then she asked me if you were happy."
        Ray thought about that, and nodded. "Okay, so what was your answer to that one?"
        "I said I thought you were."
        "But."
        "But what?"
        "I can hear it, Frase. You said you 'thought I was, but.' Didn't you?"
        "Not exactly," Ben hedged.
        Ray moved closer, looking into his eyes, worried. "What makes you think I'm not happy? Have I done anything? Said anything? I need to know 'cause I can't fix it if I don't know."
        "Fraser shook his head. "No, you haven't. It was just something I remembered. Something you once told me, about why you and Stella divorced."
        Ray frowned, thinking back, then his eyes widened. "Geez, Fraser, you remember that?"
        Ben couldn't quite meet his gaze, and knew he was blushing. "I remember everything you ever said to me."
        There was a moment of silence, then Ray leaned close to plant a swift kiss on his mouth before pulling back. "Dunno what I did to deserve you, Ben, but I ain't lookin' a gift-horse in the mouth. So. You told her about me, an' Stella, an' why we split?"
        Fraser nodded.
        "Okay. So what's that got to do with the price of tea in . . . Oh." His eyes went wide and startled, and he turned to look at the door through which Maggie had fled, then back at Fraser. His jaw dropped. "Oh shit."
        "Er, yes. Rather." Fraser agreed, not even bothering with a perfunctory admonishment about Ray's language. It never did any good anyway.
        "You mean to tell me she was, uh, volunteering?" Ray managed to ask.
        "In so many words, yes," Ben confirmed.
        Ray closed his eyes, opened them, grabbed for one of the chairs and sat down. "Well, uh. Wow. I mean– why'd she want to go an' do a thing like that for?"
        "Because you're family, and she loves you guys."
        They both turned to find Maggie standing there, looking determined.
        Ray paled, then blushed. Ben could only imagine what his blood-pressure was doing.
        "Uh . . . Hi, Maggie." Ray finally managed to stammer. "That's, um, well . . ." He ran a hand through his hair, looked desperately at Fraser, then shot to his feet. "I, uh, I think I'll just go see t' the dogs."
        He took off like a bear was on his tail, the door banging closed behind him. Fraser stared after him, trying not to smile. Maggie looked at Ben.
        "Scares easily, doesn't he?"
        "Under certain conditions. Ray had a rather, well, let's just say his childhood was occasionally 'difficult.' He tends to react negatively to expressions of affection. At first, anyway. Give him a little time to get used to the idea and he'll be fine."
        "You're sure? I mean, I don't want him running every time I walk into the room."
        "I'm sure. After all, he doesn't run away from me."
        She brightened. "True," she said, then her smile dimmed. "I'm sorry, Ben. You know me. Sometimes I act before I think things through. I didn't mean to cause problems."
        "Nor did I. I think that must be a family trait. I didn't stop to think how my concerns might affect you."
        They both sighed. Ben picked up the bowl of batter and spooned more of it onto the griddle.
        "I'm serious, you know," Maggie said.
        "I know," Fraser agreed, watching bubbles rise in the batter.
        "We could make it work," she said, hesitantly.
        Ben sighed. "We have plans, Maggie, plans that don't include staying here. We're going back to Chicago. Ray needs that, he needs to be back in his world again. I've kept him away from it long enough."

* * *

        "Isn't this where I came in before?" Ray asked, standing in the doorway, his arms crossed.
        Ben looked at him. Ray lifted his chin, which should have told Fraser not to argue, but he did it anyway.
        "I was just explaining that we're going back to Chicago. We won't be staying here."
        "Izzat so?" Ray said, his chin lifting even further. "What if I wanta stay?"
        "Ray, you don't need to argue just for the sake of argument."
        "I'm not. I mean it, Frase. I was thinking about it last night. I like it here. I like the way you are here, you're . . . freer. Happier. More you. Y'know what's the only thing I miss from Chicago?"
        "Police work?" Ben hazarded.
        "No. Chinese food. Real Chinese food. Mandarin duck, kung pao chicken, mu shu beef, fish in ginger sauce. I could care less about going back to Chicago, except if you have to be there then I'd go and be happy about it, but damn it, Frase, I don't wanna drag you back there when I know you hate it, and when it means absolutely nothing to me. And the pancakes are burnin' again."
        Ray grinned as Ben tossed a second pair of pancakes into the sink and doused them with a muttered curse. He was finally managing to corrupt the Mountie. A little. After a moment Ben turned to look at Maggie.
        "Could you excuse us for a few moments?" he asked, ever polite.
        She nodded. "I'll go take care of the dogs. For real," she said with a tiny smile in Ray's direction as she slipped quietly from the room, leaving them alone.
        Ray stared at Fraser, his eyes lit with a slightly fractious determination.
        "Were you planning to mention this to me?" Ben asked, finally.
        "Yeah," Ray said, defensively.
        "When? We're supposed to leave in two weeks."
        Ray sighed, and rubbed his nose. "Today, actually. I guess it hadn't really hit me until last night. I just got to thinkin' about how much I would miss the sky, and the taste of snow on the wind, and the stars. Then I thought about you, and how different you are here. And I thought about how different I am here, an' I knew. I just knew. I don't wanna go back to being the Ray Kowalski I was in Chicago, Fraser. I was a jerk."
        "No you weren't, Ray."
        "Yes I was."
        "No, you weren't"
        "Look me in the eyes and say that," Ray challenged him.
        Fraser tried, and failed. He grinned sheepishly. "Oh, very well, sometimes you were a jerk, but not most of the time. You were just . . . "
        "Afraid. I was afraid, Ben. All the time. Afraid people would find out what loser I was. Actually, I was pretty sure people already knew so I became a jerk to keep people from rubbing my nose in it. You were the first person, the only person, who ever treated me like I wasn't a loser, right from the start. I don't want to go back there, to that, to bein' a loser."
        Fraser stared at him, clearly disbelieving. Ray stared back.
        "Ray, I don't know what to say," Ben finally managed.
        "Say 'okay, we're staying.'"
        "Ray, we've planned for months to go back to Chicago. You planned to go back to work for the department, and I at the Consulate. Why would you suddenly change your mind?"
        "I toldja, I like it here. I like me here. I like you here."
        "But, what would you do here?"
        "I dunno. Get a job, I guess. Security guard or somethin'."
        "It's not quite that easy. You won't be able to work, not right away."
        "Who cares? Have I done a lick of work in four months?"
        "Yes, you have."
        "I mean the kind someone would pay me for. Not stuff like helpin' with the dogs, or workin' on the cabin, or makin' bad food. I got some money saved, I can use that 'til I can get a work permit. With the exchange rate, it'll amount to quite a bit."
        "There's no guarantee I can get a posting in the area."
        "Maybe not here, but somewhere near, I bet. You may be officially back in everybody's good graces again after the Muldoon thing, but I bet they don't want you anywhere near a city. You're too good a cop, Ben. You make everyone else look bad."
        Fraser looked at him, startled. "Why, thank you, Ray."
        "Yer welcome. But you know I'm right, doncha?"
        Ben considered, and nodded, slowly. "I suspect so. I know that my style is considered rather unorthodox, and that not everyone is able to deal with it in an equitable manner." He stopped, and frowned, staring at Ray again. "Are you sure you really want to stay?"
        Ray put his hands on Fraser's shoulders and leaned close, nose to nose. "I. Really. Want. To. Stay. Got it?"
        Ben nodded. "Yes, Ray. I've got it."
        "Good. So, let's get at it."
        "Get at what, Ray?"
        "Figgerin' out whatever we gotta figger out so's we can stay."
        "Ah, that," Ben nodded. "After breakfast, perhaps."
        "Breakfast is good," Ray agreed, feeling his stomach rumble. "Y'think Maggie brought up any bacon with her, or . . . oh, uh, Maggie." Ray finished nervously, suddenly remembering what had precipitated their conversation.
        "Yes. Maggie." Fraser concurred, clearly feeling much the same sense of awkwardness that Ray did.
        Ray blushed, again. "It's like, really sweet an' all, but, I mean-- she's your sister!"
        "Half-sister," Ben corrected him. "Actually, she felt that would be a benefit. Since she and I share half of the same genetic legacy, in a way a child conceived by her, with you, would be mine as well."
        "Hunh, hadn't thought of that," Ray said consideringly. "That's kinda cool." Then he thought about it some more, and grimaced. "But, Ben, I mean, her an' me . . . isn't that a little . . . kinky?"
        Fraser looked at him evenly. "For that matter, Ray, I suspect many people would consider what you and I do to be 'a little kinky.'"
        Ray chuckled. "There is that."
        "I assume, based on that comment, that you're concerned that having a child with Maggie might violate some sort of incest taboo?"
        "Well, yeah. I guess that's it." As close as he could explain, in any case.
        "I don't believe there is any taboo which applies in this particular case. At least, I can think of none at the moment. The two of you are certainly not blood relations, and surrogacy is becoming more and more common, especially among family members. I've heard of similar cases in the news, quite frequently. Instances where a mother carries a child for a daughter who is unable to do so, or a sister for a sister. It's really not all that uncommon."
        Ray considered that for a moment. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I have heard of stuff like that, too. Guess it's not that weird."
        "Not at all," Fraser assured him.
        Ray studied his face closely, frowning slightly. "So, are you sayin' you wouldn't mind? Really?"
        Ben looked at him solemnly. "No, Ray. I wouldn't. Not if both you and Maggie were sure it was the course you wished to pursue. I know how much it means to you."
        Ray thought some more. He hadn't thought about kids in a long time. Hadn't allowed himself to. When he'd fallen in love with Ben, he'd put that dream aside, albeit a little wistfully. He'd grown up a lot after he'd lost Stella, and found Ben, and realized that you couldn't force things to happen a certain way no matter how much you wanted to. He'd resigned himself to being childless. Having Fraser was enough.
        Now, after coming to terms with the fact that that particular dream was not going to come true, this was a bolt out of the blue. A baby. His. With Maggie, who was about as much like Ben as she could get and not actually be Ben. A baby who would share some of Fraser's genes, sort of like it was his, too. He found he was grinning like an idiot, and looked over at Ben, needing to be absolutely certain.
        "You really don't mind?"
        Ben put his hands on Ray's shoulders and leaned close. "I. Really. Don't. Mind."
        "Oh," Ray said, grinning at Ben's 'Ray' impression. "Cool."
        "Is it what you want?"
        He nodded. "Yeah. I think it is. I really do."
        "I think it's a wonderful idea," Fraser said softly. "This way you get the one thing you wanted which I could never give you."
        Ray fretted, suddenly worried that his desire for a child somehow might make Ben think he loved him less. "Ben, you know you give me everything I need."
        Ben smiled understandingly. "I do, Ray, but not everything you want."
        "I don't need this. I only need you."
        "Ray, I understand. I'm not hurt, I'm not offended. Actually, I like the idea."
        "You do?"
        "Yes, I do." His eyes met Ray's candidly. "I like the idea of having a blood connection to you, however tenuous it might be."
        Ray felt tears stinging in his eyes, and reached out to hug the Mountie, hiding that fact. He might be swish enough to be in love with Ben, but he still had trouble crying in front of anyone. "God, Frase. I don't deserve you."
        Ben hugged him back. "Yes, you do. And more."
        They heard the front door open, and separated, slowly.
        "Safe yet?" Maggie called from the front door. "I can find something else to do if I need to."
        "Safe," Ray called. "C'mon in."
        She stepped inside, and they waited while she took off her coat and shoes, and then moved hesitantly into the main cabin.
        "So. Things okay now?" she asked, biting her lip nervously, just like Fraser always did. "I didn't mess things up, did I?"
        "No, Maggie, you didn't mess things up at all," Ray said. "We needed t'talk about some stuff, you just made it happen faster."
        "Oh. Okay. Good." She still looked nervous. Ray figured he knew why.
        "So, how'd you like to have me an' Ben hangin' around in yer hair all the time?"
        She looked from him, to Ben, and back, and started to smile. "Really? You're not joking? You're going to stay here?"
        "Well, we can't make any assumptions as to my posting," Fraser said, injecting a little reality. "I can put in for a transfer, but we don't know where I'll end up. It may not be anywhere near you."
        "I can make sure it is, Ben. I'll just put my paperwork in first." She looked at Ray, and her face went pink. "I mean, if... um, never mind."
        "Maggie," Ben said softly.
        "What?"
        "We liked your idea."
        Her eyes lit with hope. "You... you did? Really?"
        Ben nodded. Ray nodded too, avoiding looking at her. It was kind of embarrassing.
        "Yes. There are a great many details to be worked out, first, but provided we can do so, we think it would be a... worthwhile undertaking."
        She grabbed a chair and sat down, abruptly. "Oh my. Oh my. I'm..." She ran a hand through her hair, and shook her head. "Sorry, I'm just a little overwhelmed. I didn't think you would... I mean, I was sure you wouldn't... "
        Ben frowned, and Ray could guess what he was about to say. Apparently, so could Maggie.
        "No! I didn't mean it that way!" she exclaimed. "You get that thought right out of your mind, Ben Fraser! Of course I meant it! Every word. About my offer, I mean. Oh, drat it, I'm not making sense. What I meant was that my offer was made in complete sincerity, and with full intention of carrying through with it should you agree. I just, well, I didn't dare let myself hope you would take me up on it. I figured you would think I was nuts!"
        Ray grinned. "Why should you be different from the rest of us?"
        "How true," she laughed, shaking her head.
        Ben's expression went serious all the sudden, and he studied her intently. "Maggie, are you sure you can do this? Have you really thought about it? You will be giving up your child for us to raise, a child you've carried in your body, sheltered, given life to. The mother-child bond is a strong one, that won't be an easy thing to do."
        She sighed. "Yes, I have thought about that, Ben, and no, it won't be easy. I suppose it will depend, in part, on how we handle it. Will we be honest with him, or her? Will they know that I'm their mother, or will that part be a secret?"
        "Well, of course we'd tell them!" Ray said, sounding amazed. "Why wouldn't we?"
        She shrugged. "I don't know. I've heard of people who did something similar and pretended the mother had died or something. I just wasn't sure what you would want to do. Being honest makes it easier, because I then wouldn't have to pretend. And we are family, after all. It's not like we won't see each other." She bit her lip, and looked worried. "I mean, we would see each other, right? I could still visit?"
        "Anytime," Ray said firmly, looking at Ben, who nodded.
        "Well then, it should be okay," she said not sounding quite as decisive as she probably meant to.
        "Maggie, what if I were posted elsewhere, and Ray and I had to move? Or if you were? Could you handle that? Will you be able to let us make all the decisions?"
        She took a deep breath and let it out. "I think if I start right now, from the very beginning, to think of this as your baby, not mine, that I can do it."
        "And if you can't? It could cause a rift between us, Maggie. I never had a family growing up, and I don't want to lose the one I have now."
        She got up and went to him, putting her arms around him in a hug before drawing back to look into his eyes. "I know that. I feel the same. And you won't, I promise you." She turned to look at Ray, and held out a hand. "Let's get clear on this right now. We're family, the best kind, the kind you pick yourself. We won't let anything happen that would change that, right?"
        "Right," Ray echoed, letting her draw him in, making it a three-way embrace.
        She looked at Ben, eyebrows lifted. He nodded, slowly.
        "Right."
        They stood, unspeaking for a moment, then she let them go and stepped back. "So. Now what?"
        "Now, I believe we should have breakfast. We have plenty of time to start thinking about logistics later."

* * *

        "Okay, so Maggie sends you to take her leave request to Frobisher, and then on the spot you volunteer to take over for her until she's ready to come back, right?" Ray asked, gesticulating with his fork for emphasis. When he finished the sentence, he used the utensil for its intended purpose, picking up the last bite of pancake off his plate and conveying it to his mouth.
        Fraser forced himself not to watch the muscles flexing in his jaw as he chewed. Watching someone eat wasn't supposed to be erotic. "It does seem a logical sequence," Ben said grudgingly. Maggie and Ray had refused to wait until after breakfast, but he had to admit, they were coming up with good ideas.
        "And Sergeant Frobisher is more likely than many to approve such a request," Maggie put in. "Since he was your, I mean, our father's friend and partner."
        "There ya go," Ray said, grinning. "Networking. Good stuff. So, then I gotta apply for a green-card, or whatever it is you do here."
        An idea came to Fraser out of the blue and he looked at Ray thoughtfully. "Actually, Ray, there is a more efficient way of obtaining citizenship for you," he said, before he really analyzed it. "You and Maggie could get married."
        "What?" Ray and Maggie gasped in unison, shocked.
        "It's really quite logical," Ben explained earnestly. "Marriage to a citizen would confer all attendant citizenship benefits on you, and in addition it would mean there would be no question as to your having equal custodial rights to the child."
        Maggie frowned thoughtfully, but Ray just stared at him for a long time. Too long a time. Ben was getting uncomfortable. Finally Ray shook his head, stood up, and went to the door, stepping into his boots, pulling on his coat.
        "Ray?" Ben said, puzzled and worried, getting to his feet.
        "Just need some air, Frase," Ray said, his voice flat, unemotional, as he stepped outside and closed the door, leaving Fraser standing there, not sure if he should stay, or follow. He looked at Maggie, who was looking nearly as poleaxed as Ray had.
        "Um, Ben, that was a bit, sudden." Maggie said quietly. "It probably would have been a good idea to speak to us on an individual basis before you decided to spring that on us."
        "But, it is logical," Ben said, at a loss. "I don't . . . why would he . . ." Fraser said, more to himself than to her. Then he knew. Oh no. No, Ray wouldn't have thought that, would he? But he knew he would. For all his frenetic energy and bluster, Ray was a lot more fragile than he looked. Lately he'd seemed so much stronger that Ben had forgotten that in the deepest places, he was still sensitive.
        "I'm very sorry, Maggie. I didn't mean that the way it came out. Look, I'll be back when I've fixed things with Ray, however long it takes. And then I'll fix things with you."
        Maggie nodded, and Ben took off after Ray. It wasn't hard to find his trail. The freshly made prints in the snow led north, into the woods. He headed after Ray, moving as quickly as he could. After a few hundred yards he realized he should go back for snowshoes, but didn't want to spare the time. Besides, Ray hadn't taken any, so he wouldn't be moving very fast, either, although he seemed to have covered a remarkable amount distance for the few minutes lead he had.
        He stopped and studied the tracks again, frowning. Ray was running, crossing the snow in long, ground-eating strides. Fraser started to be afraid. This time of year the days were very short. If Ray went very far, he could end up outside after dark. He knew Ray had learned a lot in the last few months, but had he learned enough to survive alone, without supplies, through a long sub-arctic night? He didn't want to have to find out. He had to find him first. Make him safe. Make him understand. If that was even possible.
        Fraser couldn't believe he'd been so thoughtless. After promising he'd never hurt him again, he did this? Damn it. Would he never learn? He'd done quite a few incredibly stupid things in his life, but this had to take the prize. It had been sheer idiocy to think out loud like that, without stopping to analyze the potential implications and assumptions that his words might provoke.
        The fear that he had just done something irrevocable was far greater than his fear for Ray's safety. He knew he could find Ray before the night was out, and make sure he was safe. But could he fix what he'd done? Was there any way to fix things now? He stopped, eyes closed, the ache in his chest paralyzing. No. Please, no. Don't let me have done that. Don't let me have lost him. I can't lose him. He's part of me. I can't lose him, I just can't. The words became a chant, a mantra against loss, somehow it felt like if he said it enough, it could avert the potential, remove it from the universe.
        A shiver shook him, he was surprisingly cold from about knees to upper-thighs. With a start, Ben realized he had sunk to his knees in the snow. He should get up, go on, keep looking. But the fear was so strong, stronger than he was. He understood suddenly. He didn't fear for Ray's safety. He'd taught him well, and he would be fine.
        No, what he feared was having his soul ripped out of him again. It would be far worse this time. This time he had been so sure, so completely committed. There had been no doubt, no guilt, no hesitation at all between them. Just love. He'd taken that for granted. He'd forgotten how fragile Ray's trust was. And he might have just destroyed it, blundering around like a bull moose. He hoped not. He hoped it was one of those volatile Ray flare-ups that quickly faded, but he feared it might be more.

* * *

        Ray walked aimlessly, weaving around trees, not heading anyplace in particular. He'd just had to get out of there. He couldn't be around Fraser right now. Or Maggie. He stopped for a moment and took off his mittens, plunging his hands into the snow for a moment, then pulling them free and placing them over his eyes. The cold short-circuited the tears. Better.
        Damn, he hated crying. His dad had taught him that it was sissy, unmanly. 'Oh, like getting fucked by Fraser is manly?' a little voice in his head taunted. God, he hated that voice. It only came out when he was so far down he couldn't even figure out which way was up any more. Like now.
        He leaned against a tree and stared up into its dark boughs, shaking his head. God. To go so far up, and then get dropped so far down, both in one day. How could Ben have suggested that? How could he have even thought about it? Did he mean so little to Ben that he could just be passed around like some kind of party favor?
        Thinking back over the day, he started to wonder. Ben had resisted Ray's idea of staying a lot more than Ray had expected. What if Ben hadn't planned to stay in Chicago after he went back with him? What if he'd planned to get Ray settled again, then go back home, without him? Maybe Fraser was sick of him. Maybe he figured if he encouraged Ray to be with Maggie, if they did the baby thing, he'd be able to get rid of him more easily, no emotional fuss. Give the idiot a new toy to play with and he won't notice when you leave. Geezus, he'd never have suspected Ben capable of such perfidy.
        Crap. He'd just used the word 'perfidy' in his own interior monologue. He was infected with Mountie-ese. He had a feeling it was permanent, too. It would always be there to remind him just how stupid he'd been. He smacked his the back of his head into the tree, trying to knock some sense into himself. The tree promptly dumped a shower of snow onto him from its lower branches. He sputtered, and wiped snow of his face, and as he did, reality hit him in the face just like the snow had. Wait a minute. What he was thinking simply wasn't like Fraser. At all. Ben would never do something like that. He didn't have it in him.
        Okay, stop and think about it. Was it possible that he'd misunderstood? Could he have overreacted? Could it be that Ben wasn't trying to get rid of him, but that he really had just been laying out what he felt to be a practical course of action?
        Yes. It was possible. All of it. Logic Boy was absolutely capable of such a gaffe. And God knew Ray was certainly prone to overreacting, especially where his own sense of self-worth was concerned. Yep. The more he thought about it, the more he realized exactly what had happened. Stupid, thickheaded Mountie. If he wasn't so damned loveable, someone, probably himself, would have killed him years ago out of sheer aggravation. Would he ever, ever, learn to stop and think before he jumped off a cliff?
        Ray sighed, watching his breath steam out, giving substance to his sigh. Fraser wasn't the only one with a habit of leaping before he looked. Way to go, Ray. Gettin' a lot of exercise jumpin' to conclusions there. All those maybes he'd been thinking... well, maybe it was him that was the idiot. He turned and started to backtrack his own trail. Undoubtedly he'd run into Fraser looking for him. He was sure Fraser would have followed him. In fact, he was kind of surprised that Fraser hadn't already found him.
        The sunlight and shadow patches were such a contrast that it sometimes made it hard to see, but he stuck to his footprints and did okay. Following his own tracks he rounded a tree whose girth his arms could never span, and promptly fell on his face in the snow as he tripped over something. Irritated, he rolled over to see what he'd fallen over, and his breath caught. What the hell was Fraser doing on his knees in the snow like that? Fear flared. Was he hurt? Instantly he was scrambling over to Fraser's side, pulling off his mittens so he could try to feel him through the thick parka, looking for broken bones.
        "Fraser! What the . . . you okay?"
        Fraser nodded and turned away, getting to his feet. Ray saw that his jeans were soaked through from knees to most of the way up his thighs. He must've been on his knees for awhile, to get that wet. Why? Had he turned an ankle or something? Frowning, Ray reached for Fraser as he started to walk away, grabbing him by the back of his parka.
        Ben pulled away, or tried to, actively struggling to get away. The parka's hood slipped back, and he saw the gleam of moisture on Fraser's face. Tears. Oh, shit. Not hurt. Not physically hurt, anyway. Fraser would never cry over anything merely physical. You could shoot him, stab him, or beat him and he'd never shed a tear; but he cried when he was hurt, inside, when the pain was too much to hold in.
        Ray, you suck, he berated himself. You're a complete and total shit. How could you have possibly thought Ben would ever be as big a jerk as you are? Ben is the kindest, most considerate person on the planet, and after this long you ought to know better than to go flying off the handle like that. Just because you're an insecure ass doesn't mean that you get to hurt Fraser.
        Fraser had stopped struggling. Obviously he hadn't wanted Ray to see him, but once it was done, there was no point in further resistance. Ray let go of his coat and stepped back, feeling awkward, not quite knowing what to do with himself. Should he try for a hug, or give Fraser some space? He opted for space.
        "Ben, I'm sorry. I just got a little weird there. You know I'm kinda flaky that way. It just takes me awhile to get my head on straight. It's okay. I understand now. It was just kind of, well, a surprise."
        Fraser shook his head, brushing a hand across his face, chasing tears before they froze. "No, Ray. I should apologize to you. I spoke without thinking. It was my fault."
        "No it wasn't. I overreacted, like I always do. I was a jerk. See? I toldja I was a jerk. I'm sorry."
        "Ray, your reaction was perfectly understandable, especially to anyone who knows you as I do. Had I stopped to consider what effect my statement might have, I would not have said it."
        "Damnit, Frase, it wasn't your fault! It was mine! Got it?"
        Fraser got that mulish look around his mouth. "Ray, there's no need for you to accept blame where none is deserved. I made an error in judgement and accept the consequences of my actions."
        Ray felt a flush rising through him, irritation, anger, exasperation, all combining to raise his blood pressure and his temperature. "Fraser, I'm the one who's got a problem. Not you. Now quit tryin' ta make me feel better!"
        "I assure you, Ray, I had no intention of. . . "
        Fraser stopped suddenly. Ray knew what had happened. He had intended to make Ray feel better, and it was either lie about it or shut up.
        "Ha! I won!" Ray crowed with a grin.
        "It wasn't a contest, Ray," Fraser said with a hint of exasperation.
        Exasperated was good. Anything was better than Fraser in pain. Ray reached out, tentatively, put a hand on Fraser's shoulder. "We okay?"
        Fraser's gaze searched his face. "I don't know, Ray, you tell me."
        Ray ducked his head, embarrassed. "I was just bein' stupid. You know how I am."
        "I should, but for a moment, I forgot. And that was indeed my fault."
        Ray's glared at him. "Don't start with that again!"
        A slight smile tugged at the corner of the Mountie's mouth. "Shall we call it a draw, and agree that we were equally at fault?"
        Ray considered that, and finally sighed. "Yeah, okay. I guess. I'm sorry, Ben, I really am. I was just . . ." He paused, took a deep breath, and let it out. "I was just scared."
        "I know that, and I'm sorry too. I didn't stop to consider the emotional ramifications of my words." He was silent for a moment, then he caught Ben's hand in his own. "Ray, I love you. I would never want to send you away. You do realize, I hope, that if the government recognized same-sex marriages, I would have proposed that instead?"
        Ray stared at him, stunned. "What?"
        "I said, if the govern . . ."
        Ray held up a hand. "Fraser, did you just ask me to marry you?"
        Fraser blushed. "Ah, yes, I suppose I did, after a fashion."
        Ray stared some more, shaking his head. "Me?" he finally asked, incredulously.
        "Yes, you. I feel we are in a committed relationship, don't you?"
        "I do. Though sometimes I wonder if it's more like we ought to be committed," he flashed a quick grin at his partner, who smiled back.
        "You often seem to doubt your sanity, but I must say I've seen no sign of mental disturbance in you."
        Ray chuckled. "That's 'cause you ain't inside my head. But, jokes aside, you really would? If it was possible?" He tried to keep the wistful note from his voice, but didn't quite manage it.
        Fraser smiled, his eyes warm. "In a heartbeat, Ray."
        A warm glow spread through Ray, making the cold of the snow and air meaningless. "God, Fraser. I love you."
        "I'm not a god, Ray." Ben said, a little half-smile on his beautiful mouth.
        Ray laughed. "Love god, yeah, y'are. You got the most impressive recovery time of anybody I ever heard of. But that's not what I meant and you know it."
        "I know it."
        "Thought so." He was quiet for a moment, then he looked back at Ben, grinning. "Just want you to know, if you'd asked me, I'd've said yes. But don't ever suggest that other thing again, okay?"
        Ben nodded. "Frankly, I shouldn't have suggested it to begin with, as it quite probably constitutes fraud against the Canadian government."
        Ray widened his eyes, feigning shock. "Fraud? You, Dudley Do-Right, suggested we commit fraud? Okay, gimme yer cuffs, this is a citizen's arrest. I'm takin' you in."
        "In where, Ray?"
        "In the barn, where I can get those cold, wet jeans off you and make you hot and wet instead."
        Fraser's gaze warmed, his mouth curving. "I don't believe that's standard protocol for any sort of arrest, Ray."
        "Yeah? Well, you know me, I don't much believe in protocol. Besides, ain't it against the Geneva Convention or somethin' to let a prisoner get frostbite?"

* * *

        Ray was as good as his word. He dragged Fraser back to the barn, wrestled him out of his frozen jeans, and set to work warming his chilled skin. With his hands. With his mouth. Oh, God, with his mouth. That sulky, petulant mouth that could give a stone statue an erection. Ray teased, licked, sucked, and nibbled, and outright bit. Until Fraser was no longer cold, because he was on fire and threatening to explode, volcanically.
        Trying to gain a little distance, Ben closed his eyes, so he could no longer see the sultry heat in Ray's blue eyes, or the flex of muscles in his jaw when he sucked, and the way his eyes half-closed in concentration as his tongue stroked and swirled. It didn't help, because he could still see all of it, in his mind's eye. The ache to be possessed grew strong, the need to yield, to be filled and taken. He reached down, put his fingers against Ray's cheek, feeling the roughness of morning stubble. He hadn't shaved yet. Golden, on golden skin, it hardly showed.
        "Ray, Ray, please . . . I need. . ." he gasped, unable to complete his thought, as teeth nipped at him, then fingers closed firmly around that spot that backed his desperation down a notch. Finally Ray let his mouth slide up, then off, reluctantly releasing his prize.
        "It's okay, Ben, whatever you need, whatever you want, I'll give it to you," Ray whispered.
        As if he'd read Ben's mind, Ray put a hand on Ben's hip and rolled him over. His hands shifted to cup the muscular curves of his buttocks, separating them. Stubble rasped faintly, a startling contrast to the hot, silky touch of tongue on acutely sensitive flesh. His tongue moved, circling, flicking, probing until Ben was nearly weeping with need, his hips pushing rhythmically into the bedding. Ray's strong hands kneaded his glutes, then left him for a moment. He moaned, wanting them back, needing them back. Then Ray finished with whatever had distracted him and one hand shifted, long, lean fingers slid into him, slick-wet, and demanding, pushing deep, finding.
        Ben moaned, and shuddered, so close, so close, only sheer determination kept him from finishing then. He had to wait, had to wait, needed more, needed Ray. Inside. Fisting his hands in the blankets, he pushed back onto his hands and knees, lifting himself, spreading his thighs wider, pleading with his body since his mouth could no longer form coherent words.
        Fingers stroked one last time, then withdrew. He whimpered, needy, empty, then Ray was there, insistent and irresistible. Not that he wanted to resist, no, all he wanted was to yield. And he did, his body opening to that insistence easily now, after all this time together, although there was always that moment of almost-pain there at the start. Then it eased, and he was filled, and he lost contact with logic, and reality and just felt.
        Ray moved in him, deep, deeper, until he could go no deeper. Ben moaned. Ray's hands gripped Ben's hips, holding him hard as he pulled back, then eased in again. Ben put his forehead against the bedding and braced himself, knowing Ray would read that in him, knowing he would understand what he wanted, what he needed. Again. Again. Harder, faster now, so deep, so good. Ray slipped one hand beneath him, finding the rigid length of his cock, fingers wrapping around him, stroking hard, and fast, echoing the pounding thrusts inside him.
        In the quiet of the barn their harsh, rapid gasps and panting moans sounded loud, as did the little almost-grunts Ben made each time Ray went hilt-deep inside him. He was dying, dying, every nerve screaming for release, and then, finally, he was coming hard into Ray's hand, hot and slick, the pleasure nearly excruciating; and Ray was coming too, whispering his name over and over.
        Finally, both spent, and limp with the catharsis of orgasm, Ray turned them onto their sides and wrapped his arms around Ben, still in him, wrapped around him like a blanket. He put his lips against Ben's neck, and kissed and sucked the tangle of short, sweaty curls there, then sighed.
        "God, I love you Fraser."
        Ben smiled, reassured, and covered the hands on his midriff with his own. "And I you, Ray."
        "Good. We just gotta remember that." He sighed, and a little shiver went through him.
        "Are you cold?" Ben asked, reaching for a blanket.
        "No, not cold," Ray said, his hand covering Fraser's, stopping him from drawing the woollen fabric higher.
        "What, then?"
        "Nothin'. Just leftovers, I think."
        "Leftover what?" Fraser asked, puzzled.
        There was a long moment of silence before Ray finally answered. "Fear. God, when you said that, about me marryin' Maggie, I was so scared. I thought you didn't want me any more."
        Fraser found Ray's hand, laced his fingers through slimmer ones. "Never. I love you."
        "Even people who love you sometimes go away," Ray whispered.
        God, how true that was. He still remembered that pain. Fraser nodded. "I know. But I won't."
        "Same here," Ray said quietly.
        He was quiet for a while longer. Ben could feel a slight tension building in him, and waited, knowing Ray was working up to speaking again, to something important.
        "Ben?"
        "Yes, Ray."
        "Let's just forget about the baby thing."
        Ben absorbed that, and it made no sense. He knew Ray wanted a child. Had wanted one for a long time, badly. He'd been pleased and excited by the prospect. Why change his mind now? Slowly he eased away, and turned to look into his face. Ray was looking up at the ceiling, deliberately avoiding Ben's eyes. Ben reached over, grabbed his chin, and turned his face, forcing Ray to look at him. He read a lot in those eyes. Love. Regret. Fear. Doubt.
        "Ray? Why?"
        "Lotsa reasons, Frase. Hell, what do I know about being a parent? My folks weren't exactly great examples, Dad well, you know him, and mom still thinks denial is a river in Egypt. I wouldn't want t' be like that."
        Ben propped his head on one hand, and studied Ray for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Clearly they weren't entirely unsuccessful parents, as you are a fine man, Ray. As far as that goes, we both have excellent examples of how not to parent, and can, I believe, can reason out the proper course from there. We would be at no greater disadvantage than any other new parent ever is. So, is that your only reason?"
        "Well, no."
        "What, then?"
        "I . . . I just don't want anything, or anyone, to maybe come between us."
        Well. That was cryptic. He mulled it over, and came up with too many options. "Are you speaking of the child, Ray?"
        "A baby. Maggie. Anyone."
        "You're worried that it might change things between us?"
        Ray nodded, biting his lip.
        "Ray, no relationship is static. Relationships evolve on a daily, even moment-by-moment basis. Things will inevitably change between us, no, wait," he held up a hand, silencing Ray's protest. "I don't mean that we would ever cease to care for one another. I don't believe that will ever happen. But didn't we both learn some time ago that we can still feel love for others without it affecting our relationship?"
        Ray looked at him narrowly. "You're talking Stella, and Vecchio."
        "Yes, I am."
        Ray sighed. "Okay, yeah. You got a point."
        "Anything else?"
        "Um. Yeah. One thing."
        "That being?"
        "I'm, ah, not sure I could do it. With Maggie, I mean. First off, it's, like, well, cheatin' on you. And second off, It's just too weird. I mean, she's yer sister. Y'oughta be beltin' me for even thinkin' about it."
        Fraser grinned, amused. He'd forgotten that Ray had missed out on certain key elements that morning, and didn't realize that Maggie had a slightly less traditional method in mind for conception. He couldn't resist teasing, though.
        "Ray, she's a grown woman, not an inexperienced child. She can do as she likes. If she were to take up with someone clearly dangerous I might feel compelled to intervene, but I could hardly object to her being with you, since I know you would never hurt her. As for you being unfaithful, well, since you have my permission, it hardly counts, does it?"
        "No. I guess not." He fidgeted for a moment, then sent Ben a slightly panic-stricken look. "But geez, Fraser, do you know how long it's been since I was with a woman? What if I don't remember how?"
        Ben couldn't help it. He laughed. Laughed until tears came. Ray was starting to look annoyed by the time he finally managed to control himself.
        "What's so funny?" Ray snapped.
        "You, Ray. You can do to me what you just did, and worry about technique? I don't think you have anything to fret about. The method is pretty much the same, just a slightly more, er, northerly destination. You are an excellent lover, Ray. You believe strongly in reciprocity and always take the time to make sure that your partner is pleasured, as well as yourself. I don't believe anyone would ever come away unsatisfied from making love with you."
        Ray went as red as Fraser's dress tunic and grinned sheepishly. "Way to give a guy a complex, Frase."
        "I was merely being truthful, Ray."
        "Stop! Enough! I mean, geez, like I'm supposed to fit my head through the door now?"
        Fraser deliberately dropped his gaze downward. "It should fit as well as ever, Ray."
        Ray groaned at the implied pun, rolling his eyes. Fraser debated telling him about the basting syringe, and found himself thinking that it was a terribly sterile way to conceive a child. Effective, perhaps, but devoid of feeling. Would it not be better for a child to be conceived in pleasure and caring, than through a clinical procedure? He knew it was completely irrational, that many very-much-wanted children were conceived through artificial means, but it just seemed so impersonal.
        Thinking about it like that, he began to understand Ray's dilemma. The thought of physical intimacy between Ray and Maggie engendered a strange mixture of feelings in him, including an unexpectedly strong surge of jealousy. He really didn't like the idea of sharing Ray. He had read that it was rare for a woman to conceive on the first try. Sometimes it took months.
        Could he do that? Share Ray, not just once, but on an ongoing basis? Also, would it be fair to Maggie? Might it not be cruel, in a way, to give her the illusion of a relationship which had no possibility of continuation? For that matter, there was a tiny edge of insecurity in him that worried it could open a door they might not be able to close again. What if Ray and Maggie came to care for each other? Where would that leave him?
        Then he remembered the way Ray's face had lit up when he'd realized that he really might be able to achieve that long-relinquished dream. Could he take that away from him? No. He would do whatever it took to make it happen. Whatever it took.
        Besides, it would be Maggie's call as to how to proceed. She might have no interest in all at doing things in a non-clinical fashion. It hadn't been all that long since Casey's death, and she had loved him, even if he hadn't been who she thought he was. She should have options, though, no matter which she chose.
        "You're too quiet, Fraser. What's up?"
        "I was just thinking about Maggie," Ben confessed. "My ill-conceived suggestion was as much of a shock to her as it was to you."
        "Oh yeah," Ray agreed. "I saw her face. So you need to go talk to her, too?"
        "I'm afraid I do, Ray."
        Ray sighed, and stretched. "Okay, I'm pretty wiped right now anyway," he yawned widely. "Go see her, I'll just take a little nap."
        Fraser shook his head in mock disgust. "Typically male, falling asleep right after sex."
        "Hey, whattaya want? I am male! But if you wanna go another round, I could prob'ly wake up," Ray said, hopefully.
        Ben chuckled. "Go ahead and sleep. I'll be back in a little while, I hope."
        "Bring food," Ray suggested, reaching for the blankets, pulling them up around himself as he curled onto his side, head pillowed on his arm. "Something other than pemmican. Stuff always gets stuck in my teeth."
        Fraser found himself wondering where the nearest Chinese restaurant was, and how long it would take to get there. Ridiculous thought.

* * *

        Maggie had cleaned up the breakfast dishes and made fresh coffee while Ben was out looking for Ray. Through the kitchen window she'd seen them return, and head into the barn. It looked as if things were going well, since Ray had been laughing, and half-carrying Ben, who had been walking like his knees were frozen stiff. She wasn't sure she wanted to know why. That had been some time ago. She supposed they were doing the 'kiss and make up' thing. Her mouth curved in a smile, remembering similar sessions between her, and Casey. She missed that. God did she. No, don't think about it. It only makes you sad. Think about Ben and Ray, instead.
        She was glad that their fight hadn't been serious. It was clear that Ben was completely committed to Ray, even if Ray was sometimes too insecure to realize it. Poor Ray. She remembered Ben's comment about his childhood, and sighed. Too many people seemed to have had that, Ben among them, though he would probably deny that if pressed. Still, it must have been hard being raised by his stern grandparents after losing his mother so young, with his father far more absent than present.
        At least she'd had her mum, through all the growing-up years, anyway. Her death had been hard enough as an adult, but not so hard as it would have been if she'd died when Maggie was just a kid. She didn't know Ray's story, but she knew Ben well enough to know that if he said it was difficult, it had probably been worse than that. Although he'd grown into an oddly attractive man, she imagined he'd been just the sort of child who was always chosen last for games, and teased for his intelligence and appearance.
        She sipped her coffee, and then stopped, looking into the cup with the odd realization that if they did go through with this, she wouldn't be drinking coffee much longer. She'd have to cut out all caffeine. No more beer, or wine with dinner. She wondered if chocolate was safe. Surely just a little wouldn't hurt.
        A knock at the door startled her momentarily, then she knew it must be Ben.
        "Come in!" She called, and the door opened to admit Ben, looking tousled, his face, especially his mouth, a bit abraded. She had to stifle a grin. Beard-burn. Definitely kiss-and-make-up. She pretended not to notice. Diefenbaker trotted in behind Fraser just before he closed the door.
        "Hi, Ben, everything okay?"
        "I believe so."
        "Good."
        "Very," Ben said, smiling in a way that made her blush.
        She looked away. Really, she shouldn't think about things like that. Especially not when one of the parties was her brother. Half-brother to be sure, and only recently discovered, but still. She thought back to her first meeting with Ben, and shivered a little. Thank goodness Ben had figured out their connection when he had.
        "Maggie, I'm sorry, about what I said before. It was ill thought-out, and quite premature."
        "It's all right, Ben. I was a little surprised, but you know, you do have a point. It would solve quite a few difficulties. However, I could see that Ray wasn't too keen on the idea."
        "You could say that," Ben said, ruefully.
        "So. What now?"
        "I wanted to talk to you about what would be . . . involved."
        "Involved in what?"
        "In the project of which we spoke."
        "The project?" Maggie frowned, puzzled. "What proj . . . Oh." She blushed as she figured it out. "Well, First I suppose we'll have to plan when to do it. Actually, it's probably too soon, but right now would be ideal, I'm fairly sure I'm in the proper point in my cycle." She cleared her throat and looked at Diefenbaker. "When Casey and I were together . . . well, let's just say that for safety's sake I familiarized myself with the indicators, and I've got them now."
        "Indicators?" Ben asked, puzzled.
        "Oh, the usual." She avoided his gaze some more. "Mood-swings, cravings for high-fat foods, a change in the . . . um, there are other signs. Physical ones."
        "Ah, I see. Well, that brings me to my point, I suppose." He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and stared out the window. "Maggie, I know you were planning to use a, shall we say, 'non-traditional' means of conception, however, I thought I ought to tell you that I, I mean, we, would understand and cooperate, should you prefer the, er, the more conventional method."
        "More conven. . ." She thought about it for a moment, then her face went rosy. "Ben! Are you telling me that . . . are you offering to let me 'borrow' Ray?"
        Ben tugged nervously at the collar of his sweater. "I, well, yes, I suppose that would be one way to put it."
        "Does he know you're doing this?"
        "Well, no, not really. But since he doesn't know the full extent of your plans, I'm afraid he's assuming that. . . and, well, I didn't tell him otherwise yet, because I thought that it should at least be offered as an option, since it is generally the, ah, preferred method."
        "Oh." She thought about it for a moment, weighing options, considering, then she shook her head and sighed. "No. I really think we'd best stick to my original plan. Anything else would probably be a bad idea. I mean, he's a great guy, and I'm sure he's wonderful in . . . other ways, too, but I know myself. I'm very territorial, I suspect you are too."
        "Actually, I am finding that I am. Surprisingly so, to be frank."
        "There, you see? I knew it!" She shook her head, giving him an affectionately exasperated look. "You know, Ben, sometimes politeness can be taken to extremes. Just because it's good manners to offer someone a bite of your cake doesn't mean you have to do it. Sometimes it's perfectly acceptable to be selfish."
        "Well, I suppose it depends on the situation," Ben said, frowning slightly.
        "For heaven's sake, Ben! If someone, oh, say Sergeant Frobisher, asked if it was okay with you if he slept with Ray would you say yes, just to be polite?"
        Ben stared at her with the oddest expression on his face, and gave a strangled laugh. "Good God, no! And I'll thank you not to put images like that in my head!"
        Maggie giggled. "Sorry, it was the first name that came to mind. Would Inspector Thatcher have been a better choice?" she asked with mock innocence.
        "Maggie!"
        "All right, all right, I'll stop. By the way, it's still your turn to cook."
        "So it is. Would you prefer lunch or dinner, considering the hour?"
        "I don't care as long as it's food. I'm starving, and I can't believe Ray's not in here sniffing around the icebox!"
        "He's being polite and giving us time to talk. We'll make a proper Canadian of him yet. I'll start lunch. Would you mind going over and letting him know? I was going to take him some food but this will be better."
        "Not a problem," she said, smiling. "I'll go roust him."

* * *

        "Ray? Wake up Ray."
        Ray ignored the voice.
        "Come on, Ray. Time to get up."
        Nope. Not yet. Just a little longer.
        "Lunch will be ready soon."
        Lunch. That was almost worth getting up for. He thought about it for a moment, then drifted again, still pleasantly lethargic.
        "Ray, if you don't get up, I'll have to get you up."
        Uh oh. Threats. Well, they never had worked well. He made a noncommittal noise and burrowed down deeper into the blankets. The next thing he knew, there was something very cold and wet slithering down his neck and over his shoulders to soak into the blankets.
        Snow. With a growl he exploded out of his nest and reached for his tormentor. He actually had them pinned by the time he got his mind around where he was, and who he was pinning.
        "Geezus, Maggie!" he said, staring down into her face. "What th' hell d'ya think yer doin?"
        She looked up at him calmly, despite the fact that they were nose-to-nose. "I was attempting to get you out of bed."
        "You couldn't just say 'Hey, Ray, time t' get up?"
        "I tried that. For twelve minutes. You were ignoring me rather spectacularly."
        "Oh. Well, a guy's gotta be good at somethin', right?" He grinned.
        "Um, Ray, do you think you could . . . move?"
        Suddenly realizing he was lying on top of her, buck naked, he let go of her like she was a hot poker, rolling away to grab damp blankets and wrap them around himself. "Sorry," he muttered, blushing.
        "That's quite all right, Ray," she said, sitting up. "Sorry about the snow," she grinned suddenly. "But it was rather effective, wasn't it?"
        "Don't you dare tell Fraser, or he'll take to doin' that!"
        Maggie eyed him speculatively. "What'll you give me to keep quiet?"
        "That depends. What d'you want?"
        She thought about that for a bit, and then smiled and shook her head. "Nothing that would be a good idea."
        Ray blushed.
        Maggie looked at him interestedly. "That goes quite far down, doesn't it?"
        Ray pulled his blankets higher. "Maggie!"
        She laughed. "Relax, I'm not planning to check your teeth. Or anything else."
        He eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then relaxed. Slightly. He knew she was as good as her word, just like Ben, but sometimes they had a slightly different interpretation of things than he did, so it never hurt to be cautious.
        "Okay. So, scat, and I'll get dressed and come over."
        "You won't go back to sleep?"
        "After that? You gotta be kiddin' me!"
        "Just making sure," she said blandly, rolling to her feet in that same graceful way that Fraser did. Funny, he'd never thought that simple physical grace might be hereditary, but he couldn't think of anything else that explained it. They hadn't known each other as kids so they couldn't have unconsciously picked up each other's mannerisms. Old Man Fraser must have passed along some damned good genes, along with a few that were pretty weird.
        "Um, Ray?"
        He looked up, embarrassed to be caught woolgathering. "Yeah?"
        "Ben said you thought I meant . . . well, anyway, I just wanted to reassure you that I've no intention of . . . I mean, you don't have to, um, well," she blushed as pink as he had been moments earlier, then her chin lifted stubbornly. "Oh, you know what I mean!"
        He stared back at her, trying to puzzle it out, and finally gave up. "Nope, not a clue."
        Her blush deepened. " I mean there are other methods. To use. You know."
        "I do?" he asked, still confused. "Gimme a hint."
        Maggie chewed her lip, looking distressed, then threw up her hands. "Oh, just ask Ben. He'll explain!"
        With that she fled. Ray starred after her, utterly baffled. That must have been the influence of the weird genes. Geez, if the kid they were planning ended up with both Ray's weird genes and all those Fraser weird genes, then he, or she, would be in trouble. He wondered if there was a way to make sure only the non-weird ones got passed on. Probably not, not outside of a lab in Scotland somewhere, he thought, musing about sheep and cloning.
        A lightbulb went on in his mental refrigerator. A lab in Scotland . 'Other methods. To use. You know.' Oooooh. So that was what Maggie had been trying to say. So he was sometimes a bit slow when he first woke up. Who wouldn't be? She could have come right out and said 'artificial insemination,' or 'in vitro.' He wasn't an idiot! He shook his head, laughing. Okay, that made things easier. A lot easier.
        He unwound his blankets and got up, looking around for his clothes. Funny, he thought. Six months ago if he'd wound up naked on top of Maggie, probably the last thing he would have done was grab a blanket and let her go Strange how much difference a few months could make.

* * *


        Fraser walked into the cabin, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, starting to unfasten his tunic with the other. He looked around, a little puzzled that the room was empty, until the bedroom door opened a fraction of an inch, then was pushed wider.
        "Oh, it's you," Ray said, stepping out, looking relieved.
        "Who did you think it was?" Fraser asked, amused.
        Ray ran a hand through his hair with a wry grimace. "I, ah, thought it might be Maggie."
        Ben heard the trepidation in Ray's voice, and lifted his eyebrows. "And that would be a bad thing?"
        "Today it would, fer sure. I finally decided I'd better just hole up and hope she thought I'd gone to town or something."
        "Why?"
        "Well, lessee, she's bored, she's gained fifty-six pounds, has a constant backache, fat ankles, breasts like watermelons, and it's all my fault."
        "Ah," Fraser said, the light dawning. "I believe I understand."
        "I reminded her this was her idea in the first place, but she didn't wanta hear that."
        Ben chuckled. "No, I would imagine not, whether or not it's true."
        Ray grinned. "Guess I can't blame her. She did get the hard part of the job. All I had to do was let you . . ." He saw the color starting up Ben's face, and chuckled. "Anyhow, I'm glad you're home. Since she can't blame things on you, you can deal with her."
        "Not a problem, Ray."
        "Good. Man, she was on a roll today. I asked if she felt okay, and she about took my head off. I figured I'd better not press my luck. Anyway, enough about my day, how was yours?"
        "Quiet, as usual. One arrest."
        "Drunk and disorderly?" Ray queried, grinning.
        "I see you're already familiar with the standard arrest patterns here," Fraser said drily. "Well, you're close. This time it was 'public nuisance.' You know, I almost hate to admit this, but we had much more interesting and challenging cases in Chicago."
        "We did, but then again we almost got dead on a regular basis in Chicago, so I think it's a fair trade-off."
        "That's certainly true." Ben took off his tunic and moved into the bedroom to hang it up.
        Ray followed him in, leaning against the door. "You wouldn't need a file clerk or somethin' wouldja? I'm going a little stir-crazy here."
        Ben smiled. "I knew you couldn't stand it for long. Let me see what I can find for you. You have previous law enforcement experience, that ought to count for something. I'll check the regs and see what we could have you do, although, in little under two weeks you'll have your hands full around here."
        Ray grinned. "Yeah, I did volunteer to be Mister Mom, didn't I?
        "You did."
        Fraser sat down to take off his boots, and Ray knelt beside him to unlace one while he finished the other. When he stood back up to unzip his trousers and take them off so he could change, Ray remained on his knees, and looked up with a wicked grin as he reached out to slide his hands down Fraser's hips, under the wool of his trousers.
        "I know what I want for dinner."
        "Patience, Ray."
        Ray looked put out. "Why?"
        "I need to check on Maggie, you said she was having a rough day."
        Ray nodded, giving in gracefully. "She is, and that's a good idea. I can wait for that. See if she'll come over and eat. I don't think she had lunch."
        Fraser pulled on jeans and a sweater, then left the cabin and walked the few feet to where they had moved Maggie's trailer up against the side of the cabin and knocked lightly.
        "Maggie?"
        "Yeah, Ben. Come on in. I'm decent. Or at least I'm dressed. I'm far from decent, as I'm afraid poor Ray can testify."
        "He did mention you were a little, ah, emotional today," he said, stepping inside to find his sister sitting at her table, leaning forward with her head on the table and both hands on her lower back. He frowned. "Is something wrong?"
        "Just the usual. A backache that won't go away for love nor money."
        "Would you like me to . . ."
        "Thought you'd never ask," she said, smiling gratefully as she moved her hands so he could massage her back for her. "I should have asked Ray to do it, but I was too busy being crabby. I hope he won't hold this against me."
        "I think he understands, Maggie. I wouldn't worry about it."
        "Good. So, how was work today?"
        He chuckled as he moved over to where she sat. "You and Ray, both. You always ask. Neither of you can stand being out of the loop. Well, let's see, today I had the vastly exciting duty of arresting Davy Robillard for being a public nuisance."
        She smiled, arching her back against the careful pressure of his hands. "Still courting Josie, is he?"
        "With a one-man-band setup now," Fraser confirmed. "Of course, she bailed him out. Why she doesn't just marry him I'll never know. It would certainly cost her a lot less money."
        "Ah, but then she'd have to put up with him all the time, instead of just a couple of times a week."
        "There is that," Fraser confirmed, smiling. Beneath his hands he felt the muscles of Maggie's back tighten, and she sucked in a breath, wincing.
        "Ow," she sighed. "Eleven days to go. I can't wait!"
        He smiled. "I would imagine so."
        He continued his massage, gently. After a few minutes she started to relax, sighing.
        "That's nice. It really does help."
        Suddenly she tensed again, and he frowned, fanning his fingers out to either side of her spine, low, just above her tailbone, feeling the sudden tension that had exploded across her lower back slowly begin to fade. He frowned. That didn't feel like backache. That felt suspiciously like a contraction.
        "How long have you had this backache?" he asked casually.
        "All day."
        "How long is all day?"
        "I woke up with it, okay? What is this, you don't get to interrogate enough suspects in town?"
        "Bear with me. Have you had any Braxton-Hicks contractions?"
        She laughed. "I've been having those for weeks now. Why should today be different?"
        "Would you sit up please?"
        She sat up, and looked over her shoulder at him. "Sure. Why?"
        "May I?" He asked, his hands moving forward to hover above the tight, hard curve of her distended belly.
        Maggie frowned, then shrugged and nodded. "I guess."
        He spread his hands over the lower curve, fingers gently searching, probing. Maggie winced.
        "Hey, watch it!"
        He nodded, but didn't stop, just lightened his touch a little. Down very low, in the pelvic cradle, he could feel a small hard curve. The baby was definitely engaged. He started to lift his hands, then stopped, stunned as he found what felt like . . . No. It couldn't be. Surely the midwife would have noticed long before this. He ventured higher, frowned; moved lower, frowned some more. As he explored, he felt her muscles go tight again, and she winced, reaching to rub her lower back again. Finally he lifted his hands and looked into her face, his gaze searching hers.
        "Maggie, is there something you haven't told us?"
        She stared at him warily, and licked her lips. "Um, what do you mean?"
        "What I mean is that unless I'm very much mistaken, you're carrying twins."
        "Oh. That."
        "Oh, that?" he repeated, stunned. "Good God, Maggie! Didn't you think we should know?"
        Maggie bit her lip, and avoided his eyes. "Of course I did, but I knew you'd find out in the long run, and also I knew you two would be absolutely unbearable if I told you, and I didn't want to spend my entire pregnancy smothered in cotton wool! I'm healthy as a horse, I'm not high risk, and Mary Lightfoot has delivered a goodly number of twins over her thirty years in practice! So you can just forget about making me go to the hospital on the twenty-third! I want my babies born here, damn it! "
        She finished her diatribe with a glare that was hot enough to scorch. He lifted his hands placatingly.
        "Now, Maggie, Ray and I would have respected your wishes."
        "Sure you would have, after you managed to talk me into doing whatever you thought would be best. But like I said, you can forget about it. I'm having these babies right here."
        "Yes, it would appear so," Fraser said. "So if you'll excuse me I'm going to ask Ray to drive out to get Mary and bring her back."
        Maggie stared at him blankly. "Why?"
        "You're in labor, Maggie. Probably have been all day."
        She rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly! I think I would know if I was in labor, Ben."
        "I've delivered a baby before, Maggie, and it's clear to me that the lower baby's head is firmly engaged, and you appear to be having regular contractions."
        "Regular con. . . I am not!"
        He nodded. "You are. Four and a half minutes apart, by my estimate. Perhaps a bit more."
        She thought about it, and shook her head, frowning. "I'm not in labor, I just have a backache."
        "I believe that you're experiencing what they call 'back labor.'"
        "My water hasn't broken."
        "As I recall from my reading, it doesn't always break before labor is well established. Look, Maggie, even if you're not in labor, it won't hurt to have Mary come out and take a look at you, right? Perhaps she might be able to recommend something for your back."
        "I . . . I guess so. But can't Ray stay? I-- I mean, well, if you're right, he should be here."
        "He should, but under the circumstances he does need to be the one to go for Mary, since I've delivered a baby before and he hasn't."
        She sighed. "Do you always have to be right? It's very annoying."
        "So Ray often tells me," he said, grinning. "Sorry, it's not something I have a lot of control over. Don't worry, he'll be back before you know it. Actually, why don't you come with me over to the main cabin? That's where all our supplies are, it will be less trouble to do things there."
        She nodded, and he helped her to her feet, supporting her as they walked back over to the cabin. Ben tried not to let his concern show. She was nearly two weeks early, and delivering twins. He wasn't at all prepared for this, but he couldn't let her see that. She needed him now, and he would be there.

* * *

        Ray stirred the soup on the stove and glanced at the door again. He'd figured Ben would be back by now. Must be having a heart-to-heart. Maggie probably needed someone to talk to that she wasn't mad at. Finally he heard footsteps on the porch, and had started to relax when a startled yelp from outside brought him alert. That was Maggie's voice.
        He dashed across the room to throw open the door and find Ben there supporting Maggie, who was standing in a puddle and looking like she was about to pass out. Ben looked up and saw him, and went into action.
        "Hold the door, Ray," he said, picking Maggie up and carrying her inside, through the living room, and into the bedroom. He started to settle her on the bed, but she protested.
        "No, Ben, don't! I'm all wet!"
        It wasn't until that moment that Ray understood. He and Ben had gone to all the classes with Maggie. He knew what this was. Her water had just broken. Oh. Shit. He stood there, frozen in place, trying to breathe.
        "Ray, get her something to wear," Ben ordered.
        Paralysis broken, Ray pawed through the closet and found one of Ben's flannel shirts. That would do. Grabbing it, he turned to find Ben stripping off the sheets so he could put down the oilcloth pad Mary had recommended using to protest the mattress. Maggie was nowhere in sight.
        "Where's Mags?"
        Ben nodded toward the bathroom they'd added to the cabin a few months earlier "In there. Hand her that, and then we're going to need you go drive out to Mary's and bring her back. I would go, but since I've had at least a little experience with birthing, I think I need to stay."
        "But, it's not the twenty-third," Ray said, nonsensically. "We've still got eleven days."
        "Technically, yes. In actuality, no. Maggie's in labor, now, I think she has been all day."
        Ray felt a little dizzy. "All day? Why didn't she say somethin'? Was she that mad at me?"
        "No, Ray, she just didn't realize it."
        "Oh." That didn't make a lot of sense to him, how could she not have known? But it was better than thinking she had deliberately not told him. "What should I tell Mary?"
        "Tell her the contractions have been going on most of the day and are between five and four minutes apart and that Maggie's water broke at six-fifty two."
        Ray nodded, still dazed, trying to wrap his mind around the reality of what was happening. Maggie was in labor. She was having the baby. Now. And he was supposed to drive somewhere? How? He shook himself. Ben and Maggie need you functional. Get yourself in gear, Kowalski. He went to the bathroom door and knocked.
        "Maggie? Got a shirt for you," he said.
        "Thanks, Ray. Toss it in?"
        He opened the door a bit and did so. As he started to close it again, she caught the edge of the door, stopping him. Holding the shirt closed, she spoke without meeting his eyes.
        "Ray, I'm sorry I was a bitch today," she said, sounding very un-Maggie.
        For a moment he was startled, then he grinned. She was speaking 'Ray,' to make sure he understood. "Not a problem, Mags, I probably deserved it."
        "No, you didn't."
        "Don't worry about it. If I was you, I'd have probably been a lot worse. I'm gonna go get Mary now, don't get in a hurry, okay? I wanta be here, y' know."
        Her blue-gray eyes met his at last. "I know. I'll do my best."
        "It's a sure thing, then. You Canadian's never go back on your word. It wouldn't be polite."
        She smiled. "No, we don't. Drive safely, Ray."
        "Will do," he said smiling back at her. "Remember, if you feel like smackin' some guy around, don't hit Ben, 'cuz you need him. Wait until I get back and hit me instead. This is all my fault, anyway, remember?"
        She laughed. "That's right. I'll try to remember."
        Ray turned and looked at Ben, who was re-making the bed with perfect, hospital corners. He shook his head. Only Ben would bother at a time like this.
        "Ben, keys?"
        "In the ignition."
        Ray sighed, shaking his head. "Fraser, one of these days someone's going to steal that thing and then where will you be? Never mind, don't answer that. I'll be back as soon as I can."

* * *

        Maggie paced the cabin, knowing that it would be best in the long run for her to do so, though her body was starting to demand, loudly, that she get off her feet. Ben was pacing with her, which was getting irritating, and she was already annoyed with him for being right. It was embarrassing to have to have someone else tell you that you were in labor. She should have figured that out for herself. It just hadn't felt like what she'd been expecting!
        In addition to Ben, nearly everything was starting to be irritating, from the temperature in the room, to the placement of the furniture, to the color of the shirt Ray had given her to replace her wet dress. Funny, now that she knew she was in labor, it hurt worse. Was it all in her head, or was it because her water had finally broken and the process was accelerating? She stopped pacing for a moment and turned to look at Ben.
        "Still timing?"
        He nodded. "Of course."
        "What am I up to?"
        "Three minutes. How are you feeling?"
        "How do you think I feel? I hurt!" At his sympathetic expression, some of her irritation eased, and she sighed. "I feel . . . weird. My knees keep trying to give out."
        "You don't have to walk, you know."
        "Mary said it was best to walk as long as I could. So I will."
        "I seem to recall she mentioned squatting as an acceptable alternative."
        She shook her head. "No, I don't want to do that yet."
        He nodded, letting her make the decision.
        "How long has Ray been gone?" Maggie asked, fretting. She did want to push. The urge was starting to be nearly irresistible, though she wasn't going to tell Ben that. But she couldn't push yet. Ray wasn't back, and she'd promised she would do all she could to wait.
        "A bit over forty minutes."
        They both knew the trip to Mary's and back would take another twenty minutes or so, even at Ray's usual speeds. And Mary would have had to load some things into the vehicle, so that would mean a little longer still. Another contraction tightened down, and she stopped, breathing deeply, holding on to the back of a chair until it passed. Hurry, Ray. Hurry.
        "Turn the lamp down, Ben. The light hurts my eyes."
        He nodded, and turned to comply.
        "And open the window, it's too hot in here."
        He shot her a look, finished turning down the lamp, then moved to the window where he hesitated. "Maggie, I realize you probably feel hot due to the hormonal surges of . . ."
        "Don't say it," she growled. "Don't even think it, or I won't be responsible for my actions. Just open the damned window!"
        He studied her face, then wisely opened the window a scant inch. It was enough. Cool air trickled into the room, and she breathed it in, relieved. A moment later his hands were lifting the sweaty weight of her hair, letting the air reach her neck.
        "Would you like me to put up your hair?" Ben asked, calmly.
        She nodded, still standing there clutching the back of the chair, afraid to let go, because her knees were shaking so hard they wouldn't hold her without support. Ben went away for a few moments. She was too busy staring at the woodgrain in the table to notice until he returned with her brush, a scrunchy, and a wet washcloth. She snatched the latter item out of his hands and buried her face in its cool, rough wetness.
        "Better?"
        She nodded. "Much."
        He drew the brush through her hair until it was free of tangles, then twisted it up and secured it with the hair-tie. It felt wonderful, such a relief. It occurred to her then that putting up long hair was a strange skill for a man to know, especially one as habitually short-haired as Ben.
        "Where'd you learn to do that?"
        He smiled. "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."
        "Try me. I could use the distraction."
        "It was in Chicago, while I was still partnered with Ray Vecchio. A friend of his at a Catholic girl's school was having trouble with one of her pupils, she had run away. Ray was trying to help, and he needed someone to go into the school, undercover, as a teacher. To respect both his friend's wishes and the needs of the job, it couldn't be a Chicago police officer, and it needed to be a woman. He was having trouble finding someone, so I . . . helped."
        "You found someone for him?"
        "In a manner of speaking," he gentled his voice, remembering the modulations of tone he had used. "I simply became 'Miss Fraser' for a few days, until we solved the case."
        She lifted her head, staring at him in surprise. "You dressed as a woman?"
        He nodded. "It was an interesting experience. And, among the many things I learned was how to use a 'scritchie.'"
        She smiled. "Scrunchie, Ben, not scritchie."
        "Right you are, scrunchie."
        She stared at him some more, and shook her head. "I'm having trouble visualizing you in a dress."
        "It was a medium blue, slightly fitted, double-breasted shirt-dress," he said helpfully. "With a floral scarf, as the structure of the throat is quite distinctive between male and female. Ray said I made a not-unattractive woman."
        She studied him a moment longer. "I would imagine so. I suspect you would have looked a bit like the pictures I've seen of your mother."
        "Actually, no. I didn't. If you'd like to see it, I have a photograph which was taken at the school dance that Sister Anne sent to me."
        "I'd like tha . . . oh!" A very strong contraction gripped her, stealing her breath, her thoughts. She rode it, breathing hard, trying not to push, trying not to push. Finally it left her, and she found herself on her knees, gasping for breath, the chair-back still clamped in white-knuckled hands.
        Ben picked up the washcloth and gently wiped the back of her neck, and then her face. "A strong one?"
        She nodded. "Biggest yet."
        "Are you sure you're not feeling the urge to push?"
        She laughed shakily, and stopped trying to deny it. "I think you can safely assume we've gotten to that point now."
        "I thought as much." He frowned, and looked past her, clearly uncomfortable. "Maggie, at this point you should probably be examined to see if you're fully dilated and if it's safe to begin active pushing, but . . . well . . . you understand my dilemma, I'm sure."
        She nodded. "You're my brother, and on top of that you're shy. I understand."
        He reddened. "Ah, well, yes, that too, though I was primarily concerned with the fact that I have rather large hands."
        She thought about that and winced. "Ouch. Yes, you do. But you don't have to do anything, now, we can wait until Ray gets back with Mary, since I promised him I would wait."
        "Ah, well then, that's what we will do," he said firmly. "Is there anything I can do to help you not push?"
        She nodded. "Sing."
        He frowned. "Sing what?"
        "Anything, so long as I know it too. Nursery songs, folk songs, anything."
        He thought for a moment, then started to sing. She joined in, between contractions, as best she could.

* * *

        Driving out to Mary Lightfoot's place and then back to the cabin had felt like the longest minutes of Ray's life. He'd flipped on the light-bar to increase his visibility, put it in fifth and redlined the tach most of the way. He'd been glad there was no traffic to speak of and for once, no livestock on the road. Pulling up outside Mary's cabin, he'd left the engine running as he leaped out and run to her door. The heavyset Native woman had opened the door, listened to his somewhat frantic demands and explanations, then had calmly told him to get her things and they would go.
        He'd wanted to just throw the stuff unceremoniously into the back of the Rover, but she had stopped him, pointing out, reasonably, that her equipment and supplies would be of little use in pieces. That sank in and he stowed them more carefully. Mary got in and had barely fastened her safety-belt when he'd pulled out again. Most of the way there, Mary sat tranquilly in the passenger seat, looking for all the world as if he weren't driving like a fiend from hell but as they drew closer to the cabin she had looked over at him with a slightly odd expression on her face, and he noticed it.
        "What?" he snapped, slowing down marginally.
        "I was just thinking that you seem to be awfully nervous for a prospective uncle."
        "Uncle?" he questioned, confused.
        She smiled. "Raymond, everyone around here knows you're Ben's partner, not Maggie's. I'm not sure why you felt you had to pretend otherwise with me."
        He felt his face heat. "You know?"
        She nodded. "We know."
        "Oh. Well, uh, we thought you might think it was a little weird. What we're doin', I mean."
        She shook her head sadly. "I'm a midwife, Raymond, not a bigot. Anyone with eyes can see there is enough love among you to share with a child, or two. Maggie should have known me well enough to know that I would have no difficulty with this. However, it would be best if she put the actual father's name on the birth certificate, since there are sometimes reasons later on in life for children to need to know their genetic heritage."
        "Real fath. . ." Ray took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her, consternated. "What's that s'pozed ta mean? I am the real father."
        She looked at him, and he was almost pleased to see she was a little surprised. "You're the father?"
        He nodded, grinning a little. "I are."
        "I see," she smiled sheepishly. "That will teach me to make assumptions. I thought Maggie must have become pregnant, either accidentally or deliberately, by a stranger when she went to Toronto just before the three of you moved her trailer up to the cabin. I thought you and Ben were simply helping her out with this because you're her family."
        "Nope. She went to Toronto to see her boss, and to get some stuff she wanted that's hard to find here. See, I always wanted kids, an' Ben an' I can't, for obvious reasons, but then Mags had this idea that she could help."
        She considered that, and nodded thoughtfully. "True. Well, that certainly explains some of the questions Maggie was asking me awhile back."
        Ray shot her a look. "Questions? What kinda questions?"
        Mary smiled. "I don't believe you need to know that."
        "Oh, c'mon!" Ray protested, his curiosity piqued. "You can't just leave it there! What?"
        "She was simply asking about alternative methods of conception and what things could be done to assure a positive outcome. I should have realized she wasn't just asking idle questions." She smiled broadly. "It would appear that my advice was successful."
        "Yep." He saw the dirt cutoff that would take them to the cabin and steered onto it, then looked at her, worried about her earlier comment. "You really think everyone knows about me an' Ben? I mean, we've been pretty careful, 'cause it could be a real problem, especially work-wise."
        She laughed softly. "Oh, Ray. Yes, you haven been very careful, but we do know. You may not touch each other, but it's in your eyes, your voices, your bodies. No one here minds, and no one here will tell anyone to whom it might matter. We're just happy that Ben has someone at last. He was always such a lonely boy. His grandparents meant well, but what they did was to raise him out of his time so he never quite fit in anywhere, growing up with a foot in both worlds, the present and the past. He never really connected with anyone here, he was waiting for you, I think. He chose well."
        Ray blushed again. "Um, thanks, I think. So how long have you known?"
        "Since you arrived, Raymond. I'm surprised you thought otherwise. We're a small community, close-knit, very observant, and we have little to occupy our time." She smiled. "You were a subject of quite a few conversations at first, but now everyone just knows and things just are, and everything is fine."
        "Oh." That would take some getting used to. The thought that everyone knew he and Ben were lovers was more than a little disconcerting, but if they'd known for months and no one had made a stink about it he supposed it was okay. It was just odd. To his relief, he came over the rise that blocked the cabin from view and there it was. They were home.
        He slid to a stop in the gravel out front and leaped out, running for the door, praying he hadn't missed it. He wanted to be there. This was probably the only time he would ever get to do this. Slamming the door open, he skidded to a stop, seeing Maggie kneeling in front one of the kitchen chairs, clutching the back with both hands, Ben at her side. They were singing. Singing. Though they stopped, looking startled, when he burst into the room. Singing? This really was a weird family.
        "Did I miss it?" Ray gasped out, then realized it was a silly question, because Maggie was clearly the same size she had been an hour earlier.
        "No! I waited!" Maggie said, breathing hard. "I waited. Mary, can I push? Please, let me push now. I really have to push."
        "We'll see, Maggie. Come with me, I'll check." She helped Maggie to her feet and guided her into the bedroom. She closed the door, then a moment later it opened and Mary looked out again. "Get my things, please."
        Ray nodded, and she closed the door again. He found he couldn't move just yet, he was frozen to the spot with relief. Ben got to his feet and came over to him. "Ray, are you all right?"
        "Sure. Fine. We gotta get Mary's stuff." He still couldn't move.
        Ben smiled. "I'll get it. Why don't you stay here and catch your breath?"
        He nodded. "Breath is good"
        Chuckling softly, Ben left to go get Mary's supplies. A soft canine whimper made Ray turn, and he found Diefenbaker standing by the closed bedroom door, looking concerned. He must have just come in from outside. He always had been extremely protective of Maggie, and he didn't like not having access to her now when he could probably smell her stress and sense her pain.
        "It's okay, Dief. She's just having a baby. That's kinda like having puppies," Ray said, trying to reassure the wolf.
        "That's more accurate than you know," Fraser said from the doorway, carrying Mary's medical bag in one hand, her supplies bag in the other. "I have something important to tell you. You may want to sit down," he said, moving toward the bedroom with his burden.
        Awful imaginings began to fill Ray's head, and he groped for the chair Maggie had just been hanging onto a moment earlier, sinking into it, gaze fixed on Ben's face. "What? She's not gonna die is she?"
        Ben put down the bags in front of the bedroom door and quickly moved to Ray's side, taking his hands. "No, no, Ray. I'm sure Maggie will be fine."
        "Somethin's wrong with the baby then?"
        "No, Ray, nothing's wrong, per se. It's just that Maggie kept something from us."
        "Spit it out, Fraser! I can't take much more of this!"
        "Remember what you said about having puppies?" Ben asked.
        Ray stared at him. "You can't be tryin' t'tell me she's havin' puppies. It don't work that way."
        "No, of course not, Ray. Sorry, I should just tell you."
        "Yes, you shou . . ."
        "Maggie is carrying twins," Fraser said in a rush. "She didn't tell us earlier because she didn't want us to become overly concerned."
        Ray stared at him. Puppies. No, twins. Not puppies. Get it right Twins. He wondered what it felt like to faint. It seemed like a good time to find out, but it didn't seem to be happening. He was still conscious. Just in shock. Finally he found his voice. It squeaked.
        "Twins? She's havin' twins?"
        Ben nodded. "Yes."
        "Right now?"
        "Yes, Ray. Right now."
        "Omigod. Twins." It wasn't sinking in. He knew what the words meant but he couldn't quite get them to make sense.
        Ben nodded again. "I know. It was a surprise to me as well."
        "Raymond? Benton? Maggie would like you to come help her now."
        They both turned to see Mary standing in the now-open bedroom doorway. Ray shot to his feet and wobbled, Ben steadied him. Mary smiled.
        "You remember what to do?"
        Ray nodded. "Yeah. The breathin' thing. This is really happening, right? I'm not dreamin'?"
        "It's really happening, Ray. You're not dreaming."
        "Twins? You sure? Twins?"
        "I'm sure." Ben said.
        Ray felt the surge of an adrenalin rush starting to kick in. He could do this. They'd practiced for ages. He took a deep breath. "Well, come on, we better get in there before she gets mad."

* * *

        Caroline Amanda was born a little over an hour later. It took four more hours before Robert Benton made his debut. It was another two hours by the time everyone and everything was cleaned up and settled, and the house was quiet again. Mary had gone to Maggie's trailer to catch a few hours of sleep before she went home. Maggie was asleep in the main bedroom within easy reach of the twins, who were safely ensconced the cradle that she had bought in Toronto as soon as she'd found out she had conceived. Ben and Ray were sharing a bedroll on the floor near the woodstove. After a full day of work and then most of a night assisting with the births, Ben was half asleep. Ray, on the other hand, was completely wired.
        "God, Ben, they're so little. I never really thought about how little babies are. When I held them, I was scared I might hurt them, by accident."
        "You won't hurt them, Ray. You know that."
        "Yeah, I do, but it's still there, that scared feeling."
        "That's adrenalin," Ben told him, trying not to smile.
        "Well, that's part of it, yeah, but there's more. I mean, there's something incredibly frightening about holding a baby in your hands, they're so fragile, and they need you so much. Then on top of that scary feeling, there's also that huge 'what if I screw up' kinda fear there."
        "I think the very fact that you have those fears and are willing to admit them shows that you'll be a good father, Ray. I'm sure you will."
        "We, Ben. Not me, we."
        Ben smiled, feeling a rush of warmth that made his chest ache a little. "Yes, we will."
        "That was incredible," Ray said, for at least the fortieth time.
        "Go to sleep, Ray, you're going to need it," Ben encouraged, hoping to get a least a little bit of sleep himself.
        "I know, Ben, but, it was just so . . . so . . ." his voice trailed off. "I can't describe it. I mean, it was kinda disgusting, but cool."
        "I was there, Ray."
        "I know, but it's just . . ."
        "I know, Ray. It was."
        Ray laughed. "Sorry, Ben. I'm keeping you awake, aren't I?"
        "You are," Ben agreed evenly, but with amusement.
        "Sorry."
        "You said that already."
        "Sorry. I mean. Oh hell, I don't know what I mean. I'm just off my head, y' know."
        "I do indeed," Ben said, grinning despite himself. "It's quite clear."
        "I just can't believe it."
        "I suspect belief will set in shortly following the first diaper change."
        Ray chuckled. "Oh yeah. I think you may be right about that." He suddenly clutched Ben's arm. "Ben? Diapers! We got diapers?"
        "Yes, Ray," Ben reassured him. "We have everything we need."
        Ray was quiet for a moment, then he reached out and put his arms around Ben, hugging him fiercely. "Yeah, I do. Thank you, for giving me this."
        "It wasn't my gift, Ray. It was Maggie's."
        "It was yours too. You let me have this. You gave me permission."
        "You didn't need that."
        "Yes, I did. If it hadn't been all right with you, I couldn't have gone ahead with it. I needed it to be okay with you. I couldn't do this alone."
        "You won't be alone, Ray. I promise you that."
        Ray sighed, and curled closer against him. "You won't either," he said as if he knew that deep inside, Ben had all the same fears that he did. He just was better at hiding them.
        Ben smiled and tightened his arms around Ray, knowing he would read in that as much answer as he needed. In the silence that followed, a tiny, mousy cry sounded, and they both sat up, listening intently. It wasn't repeated. The hiss and crackle of the fire in the woodstove was once more the only sound in the quiet. Slowly they both relaxed, and Ray chuckled.
        "That's gonna take some getting used to."
        "I suspect, Ray, that is quite likely to be an understatement."
        "I think you're right. Better hang onto your hat, 'cause I think we're in for a hell of a ride."

* * * Finis * * *

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