We've been in Canada for about six months now.

I didn't think things could get any worse than they were in Chicago, but they have. It's almost like now that he's home, he feels like he can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. So he does.

I looked at myself in the mirror yesterday. I haven't looked in the mirror for months. Guess I was scared to. Scared of who I'd see looking back at me.

I was right to be scared.

The man in the mirror wasn't me. Couldn't be me, could it?

The man I saw looked tired and broken. Deep lines around his eyes. Few scars here and there. The one on my forehead came from the time he threw me against the wall. He said I was unconscious for a few days after that. He didn't apologize, of course. Didn't feel like he had much to be sorry for.

There's another scar on my cheekbone, about two inches long. That one came from his knife. Said he needed to 'mark me as his'.

I've done a lot of thinking since we got up here. That's all I really can do. He and I rebuilt his dad's cabin. Took about a month or so. Then he got offered a posting in a nearby town. Chance to be the OIC or something like that. He jumped at the chance.

He told me that I didn't need to get a job. Said he would take care of everything. So here I am, stuck in the cabin, day after day, with nothing to do but think.

I've thought a lot about my life these past months. I've come to realize that people have walked over me my whole life. First my dad, then Stella, now him. Course, Stella didn't beat the shit out of me if I burned dinner.

After being here about three months, I had an epiphany. How many times had I seen this same situation? How many times had I talked to a battered wife about leaving her husband? I was a battered spouse. How funny is that?

I almost laughed.

Once I accepted the fact that him hitting me wasn't my fault, the rest was easy. I didn't need to take this. I shouldn't have to. Can't believe I've let him do it to me this long.

Now I just need to figure out how to get out of Canada and away from him. He's taken my passport. He takes every set of keys to work with him. Says its because I'm not used to driving in conditions like this. Wants me to be safe.

Safe my ass. He just wants to keep me here.

There's no phone; no one comes to visit. I don't know what I'm going to do.

I have to get out of here before he kills me.

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

Knew I never shoulda let Kowalski go off to Canada with the Mountie. But that Fraser, he's a smart son of a bitch. He bullied Ray into jumping onto a plane and didn't bother to tell anyone.

We all saw what was happening. Francesca tried to talk to Ray, but he denied anything was wrong. I tried to talk to him. Damn near broke my heart when he looked at me with those eyes that were begging for help. Still, he denied that anything was going on. Fraser must have pounded that into him. I think he even has Ray thinking that they have a normal relationship.

Ray Kowalski is a good man, a good cop. I was proud to have him under me, even if he was covering for Vecchio. I felt closer to him than any of my other detectives. There's something about Ray that makes you want to protect him. He's a tough little shit, but even he has a breaking point.

Now I'm trying to find him. I've had to call all over Canada just to find out if Fraser was still with the RCMP. Found out he was back where he came from, staying at his dad's cabin. I had to get Vecchio involved because he knew where the cabin was. He didn't want to believe that 'Benny' could be like that at first, but we all sat down and talked to him. Me, Francesca, Huey, and Dewey, we all convinced Vecchio that the Mountie was abusing Kowalski.

I booked a flight to Canada today. Vecchio's coming with me. Said I needed a guide to the cabin and he needed to see for himself what a monster Benny had become. We leave tomorrow.

I hope he's still alive when we get there.

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

I've started to fight back.

I don’t go without a fight. I can’t. If I stop fighting I’ll die.

This change in my behavior scares him, I can tell. If there's anything I've learned while with him, it's that he doesn't like to be scared. So he reacts in the only way he knows how.

He hits harder.

I'd like to say I've had worse, but then I would be lying to myself and I don’t want to ever do that again. I'm through pretending nothing's wrong. That takes energy I don’t have anymore. Right now I need that energy just to stay conscious.

I hit him back this last time. Punched him right in that smug face. Felt good too. Felt like I could maybe get away. Gave me hope that I wasn't completely lost. I figure if I can still feel things, I'm doing good. Better than I was, at least.

Got a few more things to add to the long list of things that he doesn’t like. He doesn’t like to be talked back to and definitely doesn't like to be hit. I paid big time for hitting him. I'm pretty sure he's broken some ribs. I know I have a concussion. My left shoulder doesn’t feel quite right either. Might be dislocated. All I know right now is that I hurt and I can't move.

See, after I hit him back, he must have realized that I wasn't going to be quiet and meek anymore. He couldn't have me disrespecting him, he said. Said that we were going to have to start all over again. Training, he called it. This training apparently included handcuffing me to the bed.

It's not going to be a pleasant scene when he gets home from work. I know this.

I also know that I will not go back to being the way I was. I will *never* go back to that. I'll die before I will.

Someone's knocking at the door. Too bad I can't answer it. Whoever it is could maybe help me get out of this hell. But since I can't move…that shoots that idea.

Door opens anyway. Gets kicked in actually. I see two people I never thought I would see again. I start to cry I'm so happy.

I'm finally going home.

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

Jesus Christ.

Jesus fucking Christ.

What the hell has the Mountie been doing to him?

Beating the shit out of him is the most obvious guess. Son of a bitch handcuffed him to their bed. I look over at Vecchio and see that he's frozen in place, his jaw hanging open. Can't be easy finding out that the man you thought was your best friend is a psycho.

I hurry over to Kowalski. He's crying silently. The tears run down his bruised and cut face. I feel this strange tugging in my chest and fall to my knees next to the bed. Fumble in my pockets for a handcuff key and unlock them. The Mountie had tightened the cuffs so much Ray's wrist was bleeding.

I gather him in my arms as gently as I can, hearing him whimper slightly. "Lieutenant?" His voice is barely audible, even in the silence of the cabin.

"Yeah, kid, it's me." I say gruffly, trying not to cry. "Me and Vecchio here, we're going to get you out of here. I don't want to hear any arguments either. You're going back to Chicago and that's final."

"…thank god…"

I gently lower him back onto the bed and check over his injuries. Left shoulder is dislocated, some broken ribs. Both eyes are black; the right one is swelled shut. All in all he looks like shit.

Best goddamn sight I ever saw. He's alive and that's what counts.

We can take him home now. Take him back where he belongs.

"Vecchio!" He still hasn't moved. "Get me the first aid kit. Kowalski's hurting bad." That seems to get his attention and he digs into the backpack. Pulls out the first aid kit and hands it to me, still staring at Ray.

Kowalski sees him staring. "Hey, Vecchio."

"Hey, Stan."

Nothing more is said as I patch him up. He hisses in pain occasionally, but doesn't make too much noise. Help him get his shirt off and feel white-hot rage burn through me.

So many scars. Why didn't I stop this sooner?

I fight the urge to throw-up. Smile at him to reassure him, he smiles back as best he can.

That's when I hear the door open.

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

I'm going home. Oh, God. I'm going home.

Welsh and Vecchio came to bring me back home. I don’t think I've ever been so happy to see anyone in my entire life.

Just my luck, he picks now to come home.

For a moment, he just stands in the doorway, watching us. The sight of Welsh helping me on with my jacket causes him to stop staring. He advances on us slowly, never taking his eyes off me.

My mouth is bone dry I'm so scared.

Please, God. I don't ask for much. Get me out of here alive and not in a body bag.

Please?

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

Fraser has this look on his face that I've never seen before. I stand up as he approaches, moving in front of Ray as I do. I sense that Vecchio is doing the same thing.

We all stare at each other for awhile. Finally I break the silence. "We're taking him home, Constable."

"No, I don't think so." His hand moves and now there's a pistol pointed at me.

"Yeah, Benny, he is." I hear Vecchio pull his gun. I don't dare look away from Fraser.

"We've got reinforcements coming, Constable."

"You can't have him. He's mine." The way he says it chills me to the bone.

I hear a painful moan from behind me. It’s Kowalski, struggling to stand. Without taking my eyes off of the Mountie, I reach back and offer my arm to Ray. He grabs it and hauls himself up. Coughs once and says something that make me want to hug him to me and never let go.

"…wanna go home, Frase. Don't wanna be here. Please, let me go."

Fraser's eyes widen at the sound of Ray's voice. The gun wavers. I take my chance and tackle him, making him lose his grip. I'm off the floor in an instant, grabbing the gun and backing away. Vecchio still has his gun trained on the Mountie.

"Let him go, Benny." Vecchio whispers.

Fraser looks up from his position on the floor. His expression is one of stone, but his eyes…his eyes tell a different story. Hatred is all I can see. "Do what you want, Ray."

I wrap an arm around Kowalski and we start moving towards the door, Vecchio covering us. I pause to grab the backpack and then we're moving again. Risk a glance over at Ray. His eyes are closed and he looks like he's in pain.

But he's smiling.

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

We're almost to the door when I hear his voice behind me.

"Ray? Don't go. I love you." He sounds like a little kid who doesn't want his friend to go home.

I straighten up as best I can and turn around to face him. Welsh keeps his arm around me and I'm grateful for it.

Fraser is still on the floor, elbows underneath him supporting his weight. I look into his eyes and try to remember if I ever loved this man. He seems like a stranger to me. There hasn't been a moment of this relationship that I've enjoyed. Can't even call what we had a relationship.

"I don't love you, Fraser. I never did. You forced your so-called 'love' on me and I never wanted it. I told you I didn't. Good-bye, Fraser."

I let Welsh help me out the door and into the jeep they rented. Vecchio is still covering us. I don't think Fraser's going to be a problem. Feels good to have someone take care of me. I can hear the lieutenant murmuring something as he buckles me in.

I'm so tired. I can sleep in peace though. I don't have to worry about getting attacked in the middle of the night anymore. I know that when I dream, it'll be of home. Of Chicago with its dirty streets and high crime rate. I've missed it so much.

Can't wait to get there.

I'm going home.

The End.