Author's website: http://www.e-fic.com/~grey/

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This story is a sequel to: BYGONES Part One

BYGONES Part Two
By Grey

"Hurry up. I gotta go."

Fraser shifted the clothes bag to the other hand while he fiddled with the newly replaced lock. "Ray, I distinctly remember telling you to urinate before we left the hospital."

"This is so not the time for I told you so, Fraser. Just get the damn door open."

Without further discussion, Fraser did just that and Ray quickly rushed past him, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom. He didn't bother to shut the door, just pushed down the elastic band of his sweats, thankful for no underwear and that he left the toilet lid up. He pissed with his eyes closed, the relief immediate as his full bladder drained to safer levels. He finished and shook off before pulling up his sweats again.

Moving to the sink, Ray ran the water and washed his one hand before facing the mirror. He grimaced as he traced the yellowing around his eyes and the slightly crooked edge to his nose with his finger. Sighing, he licked his sore lower lip. He looked sick, felt sick, could've been a poster boy for what not to look like at the end of a gang fight.

"Ray?"

"I'll be out in a minute. Give me a sec."

"Certainly, Ray."

Swallowing hard, Ray moved slowly through his bedroom, noting the clean linens and the smell of fresh paint. Several new layers covered the bright red BITCH just under the off white acrylic. He knew it was still there even if he couldn't see it. He shuddered and closed his eyes, a rush of hateful images hounding him all at once, the hands, the fists, the knife slicing his throat.

Someone touched his shoulder and he jerked away, striking out with his good hand.

Fast reflexes protected Fraser, but just barely. "Ray?"

"Jesus, Fraser, don't fucking do that."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"You can't just sneak up on a guy like that. Fuck."

Suddenly lightheaded, Ray slumped down on the edge of the bed, Fraser's hand to the back of his neck, pushing his head down. "Take deep breaths. Slowly."

Eyes squeezed shut, Ray shook all over, his body drenched in cold sweat. After a few minutes, he relaxed slightly, his breathing almost back to normal. "Let go, Fraser. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let go."

Fraser released him and Ray sat back up. He took one long deep breath, fighting off the lingering queasiness. "I didn't expect that."

"What?"

"Being so jumpy."

"It's not unexpected after what you've been through."

"I know. I guess I just forgot how it gets sometimes. One minute you're pissing in the bathroom, being all normal, and the next you get ambushed by all this shit out of nowhere. It's like it's not safe to just stand still or think or do anything without worrying about going off the deep end."

"Is that what just happened, you got ambushed by memories of what happened with Clooney?"

Ray fingered the thin red line across his throat, the shallow cut one long scab. He whispered, "I only remember the first cut and then he licked the blood off and kissed me. I must have blacked out until he broke my arm. I remember that part. In between all that, well, I don't remember what happened. I mean, I see the cuts, but I don't remember any of it." He shuddered and closed his eyes. "I don't want to remember, but I know I need to. If I don't, this is going to keep happening, this stuff coming at me." He ran a hand through his hair. "God, I hate this."

"I hate it, too, Ray. I hate that you have to go through this."

The strained words brought Ray's head up as he met anxious blue eyes. "I'll be all right, Fraser. Don't worry so much."

"I can't help but worry, Ray. I want to help, but I feel so ill-equipped to do so."

"Not so ill-equipped." Ray cupped Fraser's face and studied the strong features. "God, I love you."

"I love you, too, Ray."

Using his forefinger, Ray teased Fraser's lips. "Thank you."

Fraser's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"For being here, for not pushing me unless you think I need it, for putting up with my bullshit even though I know you'd love to call me on my language. For being you, Fraser. Just thank you."

"You're very welcome, Ray."

"And very lucky."

"As am I."

"Yeah, right."

Ray pulled his hand away only to have it captured and held tightly by Fraser. "Don't do that. Don't make it sound one-sided, like what you give to me doesn't matter. I can assure you that you give as much to this relationship as I do. You always underestimate your impact, Stanley Raymond Kowalski. I just want you to know that I get as much out of being with you as you get from being with me."

"You do, huh?"

"Absolutely."

"I'd like to believe that."

"I don't lie, Ray."

"Except about me."

Surprised, Fraser's eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."

"You don't lie in general, but you do lie about me, about who I am. You know I'm not Ray Vecchio, but you go along with it. You have to admit, even if it's for a good cause, it's still lying."

Fraser shrugged, obviously disturbed by the observation. "I suppose if you look at it from that perspective, yes, but only to protect you as well as Ray Vecchio. I don't lie to you, Ray. Never. I wouldn't do that."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Even if I asked you to?"

Fraser pulled back. "I don't understand the question, Ray. Why would you ask me to lie to you?"

"I wouldn't. I'm just being hypo whatsamacallit."

"Hypothetical?"

"Yeah, that."

"Ray, hypothetically, I suppose if you asked me to, I would, indeed, lie to you."

"You would?"

"I'd do anything you asked me to."

The sincerity rocked him. "You'd do that for me?"

"I would, though I fail to see a circumstance when you'd want me to lie to you, Ray. Also, I'm not sure how useful that would be in the long run. Logically speaking, if you asked me to lie to you and I did, then you would know it was a lie. Therefore, it really wouldn't be a very effective falsehood."

"I'm not asking you to lie to me, Fraser. I was just asking if you would."

"I see."

"Do you?"

Perplexed, Fraser's forehead wrinkled. "No, not really. I think I understand, but not completely. I'm not even sure what we're talking about, Ray."

"I think we're talking about trust."

"Ah."

Ray rubbed his temple. "Please, Fraser, no ahhing. I'm not up to the ahhing thing. It makes my head hurt."

"Maybe it's low blood sugar. Perhaps you should eat something. Mrs. Vecchio has left an amazing amount of food in your refrigerator.

"I'm not hungry."

"Ray..."

"Don't start, Fraser. I'll eat something when I get up later. I promise." Ray motioned towards the living room. "Could you get my bag?"

"Certainly." Fraser fetched the bag and placed it on the bed. He frowned as he watched Ray pull out one of the prescription bottles. "Ray, you're not due to take more pain medication for another two hours."

"My arm's killing me. Besides, it's only a couple of hours. It's no big deal."

"Percocet is a narcotic, Ray."

"I know what the fuck it is, Fraser."

"Then you should know that it's important to follow the directions carefully."

"Jesus, it's just a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours too soon."

"God, you're enough to make a person crazy." Fraser didn't reply, just stood there looking at him in that terribly sad way only Fraser could manage so well. "Okay, okay. I'll just skip it. I guess I can stand it if I have to."

"I don't want you to be in pain, Ray, but people often become addicted to prescription pain medications without meaning to do so."

"And you think I'd do that, become addicted?"

"I think it's important to be alert to the possibility that anyone could become dependent, even you, Ray."

"But not you, right? Mr. Perfect Mountie couldn't fall for that trap." Fraser paled, not meeting his eyes, shifting uneasily as he stood in front of him. Ray wanted to smack himself for not seeing it before. Some detective he was. "What happened? Tell me."

Fraser walked to his bedroom window, looking out, his voice tight. "After Ray shot me, they couldn't remove the bullet."

"I know. That must have hurt like hell, huh?"

"At the time, the pain of betrayal and loss hurt far worse. You have to understand, Ray, I was in a very dark place. I loved Victoria, but she lied to me, used me. Ray Vecchio knew what she was and tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen. Then he shot me. My best friend and partner shot me. I couldn't quite take it in. Certainly it wasn't intentional and Ray apologized profusely, but it didn't help. As much as I tried to be intellectual about it, to distance myself from the reality of it, I didn't cope very well. Lying in the hospital bed, impotent, totally dependent, well, I must confess to a certain sense of despair I'd never quite felt before. They gave me Dilaudid. It helped. So I took it more than I should have, finding it disturbingly easy to acquire through several legitimate sources."

Lungs tightened as Ray tried to keep breathing. "Are you saying you got hooked on the stuff?"

"I'm saying I became dependent for a while. I managed to wean myself off, but it wasn't easy and it wasn't pleasant. It took a toll on my relationship with Ray. I blamed him. I knew I shouldn't, but I did. It took a long time to get over that." Fraser turned, met his concerned gaze. "You've been through so much. It would be very easy to fall into that trap as well."

"Yeah, Fraser, it would, if I were alone. But I'm not. You're here to call me on it if you see me fucking up. What amazes me is that you didn't tell me this before. Did Vecchio know?"

"He suspected, but we never talked about it."

"So you went through that whole thing alone?"

Fraser turned away again. "I had to. I was ashamed, Ray."

"Of what?"

"For being weak and self-indulgent."

"You think getting hooked after what you went through is weak and self-indulgent?"

"I don't want to judge other people, but in my case, yes."

"You're too hard on yourself, Fraser." Ray stood up and walked over to his partner, putting a gentle hand on his arm. "What brought you out of it? What made you stop?"

"Ray."

"Vecchio? I thought you said you and him never talked about it?"

"We didn't, but he needed me as a partner. I couldn't be a good partner while under the influence."

"So you kicked so you could keep working with Vecchio?" A jealous twinge tweaked Ray's heart.

"Yes. I knew that if I kept taking the drugs that I could get us both killed. I couldn't risk that."

"Because you love him?"

Fraser smiled and met his eyes. "Not like you, Ray, but yes, I do love him. I haven't had many close friends in my life and I couldn't risk losing one because of self-pity."

Ray dropped his head to Fraser's shoulder, his eyes closed. "You're stronger than you know, Fraser. I don't know many people who can just do that, give up drugs because it's the right thing to do. It's hard to do that when it's so much easier to just keep using and forget about it."

"Is that how it is when you drink, Ray?"

Sighing, Ray kept his eyes closed, the words easier when he didn't have to face Fraser. "I figured you'd mention that."

"I was worried about you."

"I know. Me, too. I get like that sometimes. I worry about myself when I do shit like that. I don't mean to do it, and then I'm there doing it, being stupid and doing exactly what I said I wouldn't do. So, yeah, you're probably right to be worried about the pills. I've got what you call one of them addictive personalities, or at least that's what one guy told me."

"By one guy, do you mean a psychologist?"

"Yeah, I was sober, but I made the mistake of telling the guy about some of my binges after one of my undercover ops." Ray lifted his head and settled on the side of the bed, pulling Fraser down to sit with him. "But I swear to you, I'll behave like nobody's business. You want to monitor the pills, that's okay with me. You want me to skip'em, I can do that, too. It hurts like a son of a bitch, but I can do it if you're that worried about it."

Fraser's voice softened. "I trust you, Ray. I don't want you to be in pain and the doctor prescribed them for a reason. I'm not saying don't take them at all. I just want you to be careful."

"I can do careful. I will. I promise."

Nodding, Fraser kissed him on the cheek and stood up. "Now, I think it's time you rested."

"You going to go pick up Dief?"

"After I unload the car, yes. He's at the station making quite a pest of himself while he's been waiting for your release."

"I'll bet. Crazy wolf probably ate every doughnut in the place."

"Indeed. He's getting to be a bit paunchy."

"Paunchy? Dief? A fur ball, maybe, but never paunchy. By the way, tell Frannie thanks for lending us her old Buick while my ride's in storage."

"I will."

As Fraser turned to leave, Ray added, "And my guns, Fraser. Tell Welsh and Reese I'm good for carrying. They can either suspend me or give them back and if they suspend me, I might not come back."

Stunned, Fraser studied him. "Are you saying you'd quit the police force over this?"

"If I have to. I'm tired of jumping through hoops, Fraser. They want me to protect Vecchio's ass, then give me back my fucking guns and stop dancing. If they don't think I'm emotionally fit to do the job, then I'm better off gone anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Just convince them, Fraser. I don't want to quit, but I won't be forced into a corner, either. I'm tried of being dicked around by Reese and his head games."

"I'll do my best, Ray."

"Yeah, Frase, you do that."

Ray waited until he heard the closing click of the door and then got up to get the prescription bottle. He stared at it long and hard before he walked into the bathroom, got a glass of water, and then tipped out one pill, one damn little pill that would make it all better. Minutes later, still gritting his teeth, he put it back in the bottle. He dropped the lid of the toilet, sat down, and lowered his face to his good hand. One fucking day at a time sounded like fucking forever, but he loved Fraser and a promise was a promise no matter how much he wanted to forget it, to pretend it didn't matter. But it did matter and he couldn't lie to himself, not about something so important.

Lifting his head, he found himself face to face with a silent and very worried Fraser watching him from the bathroom doorway.

"Ray?"

"Forget something?"

"Are you okay?"

"I didn't take it."

"I didn't ask that."

"I wanted to. I still do."

"I know." Fraser paused, his voice a whisper. "I don't have to go to the station right now, Ray. Perhaps I could lie down with you until you fall asleep?"

"You'd do that?"

"I'd love to do that."

"I think I'd like that."

Fraser reached out his hand and Ray took it, letting his partner pull him to his feet and lead him to bed.

Ray groaned as he tried to turn over and found he couldn't move, his left arm too heavy and painful, his head like concrete dried too soon. Opening his eyes slowly, he focused on the ceiling, realizing he lay in bed all alone, no Fraser. Damn. Wetting his lips, he moved and caught his breath, agony shooting across his upper back and shoulders. Keeping his arm still, he closed his eyes again and remembered the dream, the one where Dief obligingly ripped off his bad arm, no pain or fuss, just freedom from all the shit in his life for the moment.

Ray captured his left wrist with his right hand and then held the awkward cast still while he rolled to his side. He sat up slowly, letting the world settle, his body still weak and unsteady. Slipping the cast into the sling, he wiped his face with one hand, and then got up to go to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he washed and took a pill, hoping like hell it kicked in fast before he popped another one for back up.

Bracing himself against the wall, he made his way to the living room. Turtle's new tank gleamed from the living room window and Ray smiled that his old pet still hung in there after all these years together. Then for the first time he realized that things looked different, moved around, not the same old place. It wasn't just the missing mess, either. Everything sparkled, very clean and dusted, downright orderly, the way Stella would've made it, the way Fraser probably would, too, once he moved in.

Ray shook his head. Fraser. Moving in, being together as a couple, a couple of men living together. God. He'd deal with that later.

Settling on the newly covered sofa, Ray rubbed the smooth, tan fabric, nodding in satisfaction. Way to go, Cousin Vinnie. He'd have to look the guy up and let him know about it being a good job, let him know he appreciated it.

Ray closed his eyes and went back to thinking about Fraser, the man he loved, the man he wanted to be with. He couldn't quite fathom what Fraser saw in him, he just couldn't, no matter how hard he tried or how hard Fraser tried to explain it. A fuzzy mind didn't help much, either. Ray didn't complain. He didn't really want to think about it too much. If he did, he might panic and a panicking Ray could ruin everything, might make Fraser come to his senses. He couldn't risk that. He'd keep his mouth shut about how scared he was, about how he just knew Fraser would eventually leave him, go back to Canada without the crazy American guy in tow. Who wouldn't? Who in his right mind would put up with the shit Ray carried around with him these days?

Swallowing hard, Ray wanted a drink, not water, not soda, but a real drink, something to take the edge off. He got up and opened the refrigerator. He did a double take on the number of casserole dishes and bottles of juices that filled it. He never had that much food in the place, never. Ray smiled, thinking of the generosity, the love Ma Vecchio and Frannie shared so easily. He lost the smile quickly when he remembered his real mom and how she might send a Christmas card out if he got lucky and his dad passed out early so she could mail the damn thing.

Frowning, he moved stuff around and then slammed the door shut in frustration. He didn't know whether to cuss or risk breaking his other hand by ramming his fist through the wall. Fraser didn't really trust him, couldn't, not if he took away the beer like that. Fuck.

He checked the cabinets, too, no scotch, no vodka, nothing, not even mixer. Double fuck.

Anger made him light-headed. He settled in a seat at the table just as the door opened and Fraser walked in.

"Ray. You're up. How are you feeling?"

Dief padded to his side, leaping up, licking his ears and face like crazy. The bad mood shattered and Ray smiled. "Hey, Furface. Missed you, too."

"Dief, get down. I told you Ray doesn't need your unrestrained pawing."

The wolf ignored Fraser and just kept licking. "It's okay. It's good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. No problem." Greetings over, Dief settled down and then took up a position right next to Ray, sitting there watching his every move as Ray ruffled his fur. The comfort of the touch and obvious affection warmed him no end. He missed having a dog. Now he had a wolf, well, sort of. Fraser seemed good about sharing.

Fraser smiled and put the bag on the table. "You'll be pleased to know that Lt. Welsh agreed that you should have your weapons back." Fraser pulled out the holsters and guns and put them on the table.

"And Reese?"

"He's removed himself from the case."

"Removed himself?"

"Yes." Fraser sat down in the chair opposite Ray, his face suddenly more drawn and tired.

"Why?"

"He said it was appropriate. You were kidnapped from his office and perhaps another doctor would fit your needs better."

"I told you to tell him I didn't hold that against him."

"I did. However, since you each witnessed the other's extreme vulnerability, I believe he feels that event left a negative impact on your dynamic. Plus, he said he failed to establish a rapport that made therapy conducive to a full recovery."

"That wasn't all his fault."

"I'm sure."

Ray's head came up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, I know you didn't make it easy. You made it quite clear from the beginning that psychologists aren't your favorite profession, that you'd do your best to be resistant and combative. You accomplished that."

The tone of disapproval didn't go unnoticed. "You saying you think I was wrong about Reese? You think I should give him another chance?"

"What I think isn't really important, Ray. You can't very well make progress with a therapist if you don't trust or respect him, or as in your case, you're not willing to allow yourself to be honest about your problems."

"You think I'm not honest?"

"I didn't mean it as a criticism, Ray. You're a very complex person with a lot of difficult issues."

"Kettle black here, Fraser."

"Kettle black?"

"Old expression, the kettle calling the pot black?"

"Ah, the idea that I, too, am complex and suffer from various issues."

"Got it."

"Indeed."

"So what of it?"

Fraser shifted in his seat, avoiding meeting Ray's eyes. "I just think that whether it's Dr. Reese or some other professional, you're going to eventually need someone to help you deal with your condition. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is not something one can usually treat on one's own."

Heat rushed through his head like an angry fist. Ray came up out of his seat, just missing Dief as he stomped into the living area to pace. "He told you about that? The prick told you about that? What happened to that whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing? What happened to that?"

"Ray..."

"I'm serious. You want me to give this guy another chance and he's shooting his mouth off about shit like that? I don't believe this. I don't fucking believe it. He's got no right to do that, not even to you, Fraser. That's private."

"Ray, he didn't say anything about that."

Ray stopped moving and stared, suddenly confused. "Then how did you know that?"

"I've read a lot of literature on the subject. You exhibit many of the classic symptoms and behaviors. I'm no expert, but I would've been surprised by any other diagnosis."

"So you just assumed I'm nuts, is that it?"

"Having PTSD doesn't translate into being unbalanced, Ray."

"It does to me." Ray ran a worried hand through his hair and then sagged down on the sofa, deflated. "I mean, if that gets in my jacket, I'm fucked."

"Jacket?"

"My personnel file. No more undercover."

Fraser got up from the table and sat beside Ray on the sofa. Dief came into the room and leaped onto the chair opposite both men, dropping his face to his paws and watching them intently. Fraser kept his voice low and steady. "Ray, you're an excellent police officer. Undercover isn't the only thing you can do."

"But it's what I'm good at."

"Perhaps, but even so, doing more undercover work after this assignment probably shouldn't be your greatest concern right now."

"In other words, I'm too fucked up to worry about that now."

"I wouldn't express it in those terms."

"But that's what you meant."

Fraser didn't answer, but took Ray's hand and held it between both his own. "Lt. Welsh and the others at the station wanted me to convey their best wishes for your recovery."

Ray closed his eyes, deeply aware of how much he loved having Fraser hold his hand, having him make the first move. "Guess I should probably send them a thank you card or something for all the flowers and stuff, huh?"

"Already done."

Puzzled, Ray turned and met his partner's blue eyes. He could get lost in that look, that deep intensity that touched him when no other look could. "Done?"

"I sent the cards out for you this morning."

"And forged my name?"

"I wouldn't say forged."

"Faked?"

"I just thought I'd save you time, Ray."

Ray shook his head, amused at his partner's blush and excuses. "It's okay. I appreciate it. Besides, at least with you they can read the cards. My handwriting sucks."

"It is rather enigmatic on occasion."

"Enigmatic? What kind of word is that?"

"A perfectly fine word, Ray." Fraser squeezed his hand. "Are you thirsty?"

The brief spell of good humor melted away. "Yeah. I wouldn't mind a beer."

"You can't have alcohol when you're taking medication, Ray. It interferes with the antibiotics and intensifies the narcotic effects of the pain medications."

"And you didn't trust me so you got rid of all the booze, right?"

"Actually, I didn't."

"You didn't? You're going to sit there and tell me you didn't get rid of all the liquor in the place?"

Fraser moved away slightly, turning and staring at him intently. "I don't lie to you, Ray. I thought we established that earlier."

Shame flushed his face and Ray dropped his head. "I'm sorry. I know that. I just thought..."

"You just thought I didn't trust you and did a preemptive strike by removing the alcohol?"

"Something like that."

"Actually, Francesca took it."

Ray raised his head again. "Frannie?"

"Apparently, she knows you better than you think. She mentioned something about removing temptation."

"She said that?"

"I believe so, yes."

"You two talk about me and drinking?"

"No. However, I do think Francesca is much more observant than most people realize."

Ray slumped back against the sofa. He hated thinking about Frannie seeing him like that, thinking he had a problem even if he did. That wasn't the point. Frannie knew. Welsh suspected, probably knew, too. Bad enough Fraser worried about him like that. Now these others. He hated it. He rubbed his face with one hand and blinked to clear his vision, turning his attention back to Fraser. "Sorry about jumping the gun there."

Fraser sat still, too still, his face even more grim. "Why did it bother you to think I took the alcoholic beverages if you weren't going to drink?"

Sink or swim, know thy partner. "I guess because I thought you didn't trust me."

"You still didn't answer my question, Ray. Were you going to drink knowing that your doctor said not to?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I didn't get the chance to make that decision on my own."

"I see."

Ray swallowed hard. "See what?"

"See that my worries were not unfounded."

"Worries?"

"Ray, I love you."

"Okay. I get that. I love you, too. So why are you worried?"

"I love you, but I don't always understand you."

"And that worries you?"

"Immensely."

"If it's any consolation, I don't understand you half the time, either."

"That might well be true, Ray, but I'm not the one who seems bent on causing himself even more difficulties."

"You think that's what I'm doing, working myself over for fucking up and letting my partner and those other cops get killed?"

Fraser sat back, his eyes slightly wider. "Is that what this is about? You think you deserve to be punished because you survived when your partner and the others didn't?"

"No."

"No?"

Ray avoided Fraser's intense stare and shrugged as he picked at the edge of his cast surrounding his thumb. "Maybe. Could be. Couldn't say."

"I see."

"Look, I'm sorry about the whole jump on your case over the missing booze thing."

"This isn't about that or about you thinking I'd do such a thing, even though we will definitely come back to the trust issues later."

"You think I have trust issues?"

"Please, Ray, be serious."

"Okay, okay, yeah, I know I have trust issues. I admit it."

"Wouldn't do you much good to deny it. Might as well say it doesn't snow in Canada."

"Now, you sound like your father."

Fraser almost smiled, but refused the bait. He narrowed his focus. "Don't try to distract me, Ray. You can't solve a problem unless you acknowledge it. You need to understand the root of your guilt and expunge it so that you can stop doing things that will hinder your recovery."

"Expunge it? Is that like cleaning?"

"In a matter of speaking."

"If you're saying I need to stop drinking and moping around, I get that. I get that. I do. I should forget about all the nasty shit that went down and move on with my life. It's just that knowing something, saying you should do it, well, it's just not the same as doing it, you know? Easier said than done, way easier."

"But you can do it, Ray."

Vision blurred, Ray blinked several times, his voice choked. "Yeah?"

"Yes, Ray. You don't have to do this alone. We're partners, a duet." Ray closed his eyes, letting Fraser's strong arms gently move around him, his lover being extra careful of his wounds. Fraser pulled him close, his breath warm on Ray's skin. "If you hurt one of us, you hurt both of us."

"I never want to hurt you, Fraser."

"Then you have to stop hurting yourself."

"I don't mean to."

"I know, Ray."

Still leaning against Fraser, Ray took a deep breath, his body more relaxed. "You smell good."

"Thank you." Fraser petted his hair and then kissed him on the top of his head. "We can talk more about this later."

"Your smell?"

Fraser squeezed him gently for being a smartass and then kissed his head again. "Are you hungry?"

"In a minute." Ray wrapped his good arm around Fraser and sighed. "I can't believe this is real."

"Can't believe what's real?"

"You, me, us, sitting here like this. Go figure. I mean, what are the odds that two guys like us would ever end up, you know?"

"You know?"

"Yeah, you know, together."

"It's been my experience that the long odds often offer the largest gain."

Ray grinned to himself, his body aches suddenly less painful as he held his own prize, his very own long shot. "I'm all over that, winning circles, big pay off, it's all good."

"Indeed, it is, Ray. Very good."

Ray pushed his salad around the plate, not really hungry, but not willing to give up on supper just yet. "So, Fraser."

"Yes, Ray?"

"You got any plans for the evening?"

"I thought I'd spend time with you, Ray. You?"

"Same here. I was kind of thinking that maybe you could maybe move some of your stuff in."

"Move some of my stuff in?"

"Yeah, you know, like put a uniform in the closet, maybe put your toothbrush next to mine in the can?"

Fraser smiled, put his fork down, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Ray?"

"I guess I am. You okay with that?"

"I'm very okay with that. Would this be a temporary or permanent arrangement?"

Ray met his eyes, his chest tight. "I'd ask you to marry me if I could, Fraser. You know I don't do casual. You?"

His face suddenly more red, Fraser leaned in, his voice more husky. "I don't do casual, either, Ray, and yes, I'd marry you."

"I wish." And he did. Ray wanted so much to have that connection, that recognition that he and Stella had. He and Fraser deserved that. He hated that they'd never have it.

"When it comes to affairs of the heart, a civil document doesn't necessarily make the bond stronger. I've known many legally married couples who weren't nearly as committed as we are."

"Same here. So what are you saying, fuck that whole same sex marriage ban and just live together?"

Fraser pursed his lips. "I wouldn't phrase it like that, but essentially, yes."

Ray dropped his fork, got up, and walked around the table. He cupped Fraser's face and then leaned in, capturing his lips. Oregano and garlic flooded his mouth, Ma Vecchio's lasagna flavoring the kiss. He pulled back with a smile, relieved and happy that Fraser agreed to stay with him, to really be his. "Thank you."

Fraser hooked the back of his neck and drew him in again, this time more slowly. A tongue wrestled with his, the heat surging through his dick, his mind enflamed by the touch of this man who loved him. Pulling back, Ray whispered, "Bed?"

"Ray, we agreed we'd talk first."

"I thought we just did."

"I mean really talk. Besides, you're not ready."

Ray kissed him again and moaned into Fraser's mouth, his body heating up all over as he complained. "Come on, Fraser. I feel ready, ready in a really big way."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I'm not ready."

Ray stood up straighter, studying the serious face and the deep blue eyes that met his without faltering. "You're not ready?"

"No, not yet." Reluctantly, Ray nodded and then turned away. He slumped on the sofa and remained quiet while Fraser sat beside him. "Ray, listen."

"I'm listening. You say you're not ready, you're not ready. I get that. Even if it is bullshit."

"You're angry."

"I'm not angry." Ray wiped his face with one hand, his stubble burning his skin, his heart pounding harder than it should be. "You're thinking you have to move slow because old Ray here's a head case. Why should I be pissed about that?"

"I don't think you're a head case. I do, however, think it would be a mistake for us to try anything too physical for a few more days." Fraser touched his arm as he moved just a little closer, his husky voice right next to Ray's right ear. "You've still got bandages, still got a cast. You're still taking drugs for serious pain. I don't want to risk hurting you. I can't take the chance that I might forget myself and do that."

"Forget yourself?" Suddenly intrigued, Ray turned and met concerned eyes. "You're thinking you'd forget yourself and hurt me, like a get caught up in the moment kind of thing?"

"So to speak, yes."

Ray found a smile. "Okay, okay, I can go with that."

"You can?"

"Sure. I might forget myself, too, might forget and whack you a good one with Terry."

Recalling the strange American custom of naming parts of one's person, Fraser pulled back, almost afraid to ask. "Terry?"

Ray lifted his broken arm as an introduction. "Terry."

"You named your cast Terry?"

"Terry as in pterodactyl. I mean, you said that's what it looks like if you hold it up just right." Ray shrugged. "After you said that, I actually dreamed it flew off on its own one night."

"Did it take your arm with it?"

"Oh, yeah. Didn't hurt anymore after that, either. Demerol's good stuff."

Fraser ran his hand back and forth over the cast a few times, his face sad. "I'm sorry it hurts so much."

"You get used to it. Funny."

"What's funny?"

"How you can get used to almost anything with enough time. Like Mort."

"Mort?"

"I mean, he went through all that shit in the German camps and now he works on dead people. Hell, he likes dead people better than people walking around. It's just funny."

Fraser studied him for a moment before he nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Ray let his head fall back against the sofa. "I didn't mean to get all gloomy."

"You're not gloomy, just making an observation."

"Talked about Mort and dead people, Fraser. In my book, that's gloomy."

"You're certainly justified in your feelings, Ray, gloomy or not."

"Even so, I don't like to dwell on it. I try not to be a brooder, though it's rough when you can't really get out and do anything about it. Can't box, can't dance, no sex. It's just hard." He closed his eyes. "That's why I want to go to Canada. It'll be good for me, for us. I want to see where you live, Fraser, not spend time thinking about stuff I can't change. I want to see the future."

"You think your future's in Canada?"

"I don't know. Maybe. If you're there, yeah. I mean, the Canadians are bound to wake up and smell the coffee some day and want you back, right?"

"And you'd go with me?"

Ray opened his eyes to catch Fraser's surprised expression. "Did we not just do that whole I don't do casual relationships conversation? Didn't I just say I wanted to be with you forever like in forever married?"

"Yes, you did, Ray."

"So, what's that mean? It means I don't live in one country while you go off home to the wide open spaces. We stick together, two peas in a pod. Chicago, Canada, makes no difference to me as long as we're real partners."

"You'd really give up Chicago for me?"

Ray chuckled and playfully knocked a couple of times on Fraser's forehead. "Hello? You deaf? I just said that."

"But what if I want to stay in Chicago with you?"

Ray paused. "Do you?"

"I didn't say that. I just, I don't know. I feel a bit overwhelmed. I never expected..."

"What? Commitment? Devotion? Me, willing to freeze my ass off for love? What?"

Fraser's voice cracked. "Sacrifice."

Ray shook his head and sighed as he touched Fraser's lower lip lovingly with his fingers. "It's not about sacrifice. It's about putting the other person first."

"I understand that. Still, I never expected..."

"That anyone would do it for you."

"No, I never expected that."

Caressing the side of Fraser's face, Ray blinked back the sting of tears. "God, I hate all those fuckers who hurt you."

"Not everyone is as generous as you are with your caring, your love, your unbridled passion."

"Wait until I get well. I'll show you unbridled."

Fraser captured Ray's hand and held it to his cheek, his voice softer than a whisper. "I can hardly wait."

A warm blanket nudged in around his neck and Ray opened his eyes, all blurry. Fraser stood up straight beside the bed, towering over him. "Hey, Frase. What ya doin'?"

"I thought you might be cold, Ray."

"You tucking me in for the night?"

"You need your rest."

"Didn't mean to doze off like that. You were saying something about seals and polar bear princesses or something."

Fraser smiled, his eyes crinkled around the edges in amusement. "Not exactly, but close enough. Feeling better?"

"Feels good to sleep in my own bed for a change." Ray pulled the blanket down a bit and then worked to sit up. Fraser put out a hand and let him brace himself while Fraser fluffed the pillows behind him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Would you like some juice or some water?"

"I'm fine."

"You need to drink plenty of fluids."

"I know, but later."

"Certainly."

Ray rubbed his eyes and then looked over at the closet. "You get moved in?"

"I hung up my clothes, yes. As you know, I don't have a lot of material things to move from the Consulate. I told Constable Turnbull that I'd pick up the rest tomorrow. I will inform Inspector Thatcher of the change in my living arrangements as well."

Ray frowned and then patted the mattress beside him. "Have a seat." As soon as Fraser sat down, Ray took his hand. "So, are you going to tell Ice Queen it's permanent?"

Squeezing his hand, Fraser nodded. "Yes. To be quite honest, she might well be pleased to have me out of tight quarters. I get the impression that she somehow thought it unseemly for an officer to be residing there full time."

"You're so damn clueless."

Tilting his head, puzzled, Fraser studied him for a moment. "Clueless?"

"She didn't think it unseemly. She liked having you bunk in so she could just walk in whenever she wanted, no knock, no courtesy, no nothing. Might get a peek-a-boo Fraser show, some Mountie flesh to drool over. She liked having you around so she could push you around." The words came out tight and angry.

"Ray, she is my commanding officer."

"She pushes you around, Fraser, and treats you like shit, and you just smile and take it. Good thing I don't pop women, because believe me, I'd have popped her a good one already."

Fraser's eyes narrowed. "Ray, you've got no reason to be jealous of Inspector Thatcher."

Yanking his hand away, Ray did his best to cross his one arm. "Jealous? I'm not jealous. Don't go saying I'm jealous when all I'm doing is pointing out that she doesn't treat you like any boss I know, at least not the ones that don't want to get in your pants."

"You're suggesting that Inspector Thatcher wants to wear my trousers?"

Ray closed his eyes, his head dropping back hard against the pillow. "Fraser, Fraser, Fraser. You are not this dumb. You know she's attracted to you, and if I remember, you mentioned something about a kiss on a runaway train somewhere in the middle of nowhere. That tells me that she's got notions, notions that piss me off, but that don't make me jealous, just pissed off. Got it?"

"Understood."

A hand cupped his cheek tenderly and Ray opened his eyes to see a worried expression. "Sorry."

"For what, Ray?"

"For getting all crazy. I didn't start out to say all that."

"You must have been pondering the idea for some time."

"Well, yeah, maybe."

"Ray, even if, as you say, she wants to wear my pants, I don't want to wear hers. Any attraction I felt for her was overshadowed by our positions. She is, as I said, my commanding officer. Any sexual relationship would be quite inappropriate." Fraser stared into his eyes and spoke quietly, his voice soft and resigned. "And, of course, there's always the other complication."

"Complication?"

"The fact that I fell deeply and hopelessly in love with my American partner."

"Funny. I did the same thing, only my guy's Canadian."

"Small world."

"Not really. Big scary world." He swallowed hard, the confession difficult. "Doesn't seem so bad when we're together though. I mean, I like having my own Mountie."

"Just as I enjoy having my own personal detective." Fraser patted his face and then sat up again. "Now, you should drink something and then I'll help you change clothes so you can go to bed."

"I need to take a shower first."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"The doctor said I could shower as long as I don't get the cast wet. Come on, Fraser. I'm tired of those lousy sponge baths." Ray lowered his voice. "I need to feel clean again."

Hesitating slightly, Fraser finally nodded. "Very well, but I need to wrap the cast, take off the bandages, and then I'll take the shower with you."

Startled, Ray shook his head, confused. "I thought you said no sex yet."

"I said shower, Ray, not sex."

"But you'll be naked, too, right?"

"Yes, but I'll be there to help you bathe, not take advantage."

"And you expect me not to take advantage, either?" Ray shook his head, his face flushed. "I mean, think about it. You all wet and soaped up, all that hot water and your skin all slippery. Jesus. You can't expect me not to notice." Ray squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed, his cock making a huge fuss about thinking of Fraser running hot hands all over his body, touching him in all the right places, his fine mouth licking him clean.

"I'm sure you'll notice, just like I'll notice you."

Before Fraser could continue, Ray snapped. "Oh, I get it. You'll notice. I get it."

"Get what?"

"It's okay, Fraser. I don't blame you."

"Ray, I don't understand. What are you talking about? Blame me for what?"

"For not being turned on. I mean, I wouldn't get turned on, either, if I had to look at me in the shower. I didn't even think about that part." Ray used his fist to bang himself in the forehead to emphasize his point. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Fraser captured Ray's hand and pulled it down into his lap for safekeeping. "Just stop that. You're not stupid, but you are wrong."

"I'm not wrong."

"You're dead wrong."

Ray jerked his hand away, his lips thinned with anger. "Look me in the eye and tell me that me being banged up has nothing to do with you not wanting to have sex in the shower."

Fraser met his gaze easily. "Your injuries don't repulse me, Ray. They do, however, concern me. If I were afraid of losing control in the relative comfort and safety of the bed, imagine my fear of doing something to damage you in a slippery tub surrounded by hard ceramic tile. That's not the most forgiving or secure environment even if both participants are in prime condition, which is certainly not the case here."

"So you're not up for doing it because you're afraid we'll bust our asses, is that what you're saying?"

"That's what I'm saying."

Ray relented and relaxed a little. "It would be pretty humiliating to explain to the paramedics I cracked my head open because you were giving me a blow job in the shower."

Fraser blushed profusely and shook his head. "You fantasize about me performing fellatio in the shower?"

"Don't you?"

Glancing away, Fraser hedged. "Perhaps."

Suddenly in the mood for teasing and a little payback for going without, Ray pushed harder. "So what else do you think about, Fraser? What other dreams you got about what we're going to do when I get well enough to suit you."

Fraser wet his lower lip, still not meeting Ray's playful eyes. The words came out slow and breathy. "I think about you performing fellatio on me. You've got a beautiful mouth, Ray."

"Beautiful mouth? Me?"

"Oh, yes. I've admired it for quite some time now."

"You want me to blow you?"

Fraser cleared his throat. "Yes."

Ray nodded, strangely pleased at the admission. "What else?"

"I'd very much like for you to make love to me."

"Make love to you, as in you want me to fuck you?" Again, Fraser cleared his throat, but he didn't speak, just nodded. Ray stroked the top of his partner's hand with his thumb, his mind reeling and his cock getting hard and happy with the thought of doing Fraser. Oh, he could definitely see that, definitely wanted to be all over that picture perfect ending. He struggled to keep his voice calm. "You ever done that, Fraser? You ever have anyone do that to you?"

"Yes. Many times."

Stunned, Ray sat back. "Many times? Canadian times or American times?"

Fraser chuckled. "Definitely Canadian."

"Fuck."

Fraser shrugged and took a deep breath. "I haven't been completely honest about my sexual experience, Ray."

"Is this that sex talk you mentioned that we needed to have?"

"Part of it, yes."

"Did I mention that I'm not good at this?"

"You started it, Ray, and it is important."

Reluctantly, Ray surrendered to the truth and then squeezed Fraser's hand before releasing it. He shifted up on the bed, closer to the pillows, and got comfortable. "Okay, okay, I get that. You know about me, all my eggs in one basket, Stella. Now you."

"Now me." Fraser stood up and moved around the room, obviously nervous. Dief sat in the corner, lifting his head as he reacted to the new tension, his wolf face now alert. "It's not really an unusual story, Ray, but it is rather complicated."

"Complicated? You? I'm amazed."

"I suppose I deserve your sarcasm, Ray. I'm being melodramatic. I'm sorry. It's just that this isn't as easy as I thought it would be."

"Love never is."

"Well, it's not exactly love in every case."

Ray groaned, dreading what he might get to hear. "Every case? Just how many cases are we talking about here?"

"Victoria was the only woman I was ever with. You know about her. Before her there were two men, my best friend Innusiq and another man."

"You mentioned Innusiq before."

"Yes, Innusiq was my best friend and we shared many exploratory experiences. As we got older, he decided he wanted a family, an Inuit family with children. That's something we could never have if we stayed together."

"You saying he dropped you because you're white?"

"It was a mutual decision, and yes, being Caucasian might have been a problem for us even if I'd been female. Mixed marriages do occur, but there is still resistance to that in both cultures."

"That's not right."

"Perhaps not, but that's the way it is."

"Okay, so you and Innusiq, you fucked a lot?"

"Ray, please." Fraser sat down, his face solemn. "I'd prefer you not call it that."

"What? You don't like me using the word fuck?"

"Not in this case, no, or when we talk about us. I prefer to call it making love."

"Okay, okay, I can do that. So, you and Innusiq, you two make love a lot?"

"We were teenagers, Ray."

"Hormones raging, horny all the time, the guy right there, yeah, I get the picture. You did it a lot. But that doesn't sound complicated. Who was the other guy?"

"Ah, complication sets in. He was my first commanding officer, Inspector Joshua Bullweather."

"Bullweather?"

"Of the Bullweathers of Ottawa."

"Like there are lots of little groups of Bullweathers to choose from?"

"Well, actually..."

"Fraser, shut up about that. I don't care about where the guy came from."

"Understood."

"Your commanding officer, huh?" Ray scratched his head. "I thought you said that would be inappropriate."

"It is and was, thus the complication. I'm also ashamed to say that my relationship with Joshua wasn't fueled by love so much as obsession and animal attraction. In the beginning, I found his romantic attentions both flattering and quite irresistible."

Ray wanted to kick the wall, but he didn't. He stayed still, kept his voice cop calm. "So, this guy was pretty hot, huh?"

"Physically, yes."

Ray didn't like the sound of that, Fraser's tone tingling his police instincts in a very bad way. "Physically? What are you trying to tell me, Fraser? This guy come on to you, treat you bad, tie you up and make you beg or something?"

"All of those things, actually."

"Shit."

Fraser snorted, still not holding his head up completely. "Succinct and to the point as always."

Ray sat up straighter, shaking his head, but not clearing it. "Let me get this straight. You're saying you let this guy, this commanding officer Bullshitwhatever, do bad things to you?"

"I suppose the operative word there is let, as in consent and granting permission."

"And you did that?"

Fraser hesitated, his eyes downcast, his face flushed much darker. "Only to a point. Joshua pushed past that point on several occasions. I've actually asked myself numerous times why I allowed him more than one opportunity to break my trust. Even now, so many years later I haven't come up with a satisfactory answer."

"What answers did you come up with?"

"Loneliness and a sense of worthlessness that seemed to be less overwhelming whenever Joshua praised me, even when those words came with a rather high price tag."

Ray hugged his own belly, the ache too deep to touch. "Loneliness I get, but worthlessness? Fraser, how could you feel worthless?"

"Sometimes seeing one's own value is difficult when others around you refuse appropriate praise or reinforce those negative images. I'm not making excuses, just trying to explain. Losing my mother at such an early age and living with my grandparents in the shadow of the man considered by most to be the perfect Mountie, well, that can be rather daunting to a child. As I got older, I found it problematical to try to live up to that kind of standard."

"But you do that every day."

"In your eyes, Ray. Not my own."

"Jesus. You really think you're worthless?"

"Not as much anymore, but I still have my moments."

"Son of a bitch."

Fraser's face looked wounded. "I'm sorry, Ray. I've disappointed you."

"Not you, bonehead, Bullshit Bullweather. He took advantage of the situation. I've met guys like him, men who find someone vulnerable to hunt down and use."

"I believe the term is sexual predator."

"And this guy f..., I mean this guy made love with you a lot?"

"Actually, you were right the first time. I never made love with Joshua. Still, I can't deny that there were times when I did enjoy it."

"You enjoyed being hurt?"

Fraser frowned and shook his head. "No, Ray, I didn't. The abuse and betrayal didn't happen until much later."

"I'm sorry." Wetting his lip, Fraser nodded and then sat down on the edge of the bed, way too quiet. Still, Ray couldn't let it go, had to know the rest of the story. "So, how did it end? How did you get this guy out of your life?"

"It ended badly. I tried to ask for a transfer, but Joshua wouldn't approve it. He got even more spiteful after he knew I wanted to end it."

"You could've filed a harassment suit."

"Much of what we did was consensual, Ray."

"Only takes one time, Fraser. You know that."

"Yes, I do know that. Still, as you've said before, it's far easier to say one should do something rather than to actually do it. It would've been almost impossible to prove my allegations, not to mention I would've been humiliated."

"Bet the asshole counted on that, too."

"I'm sure he did."

"But how did you get it to stop?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"Joshua found another interest, a woman whose name I won't mention. After he started the new relationship, he finally allowed my transfer."

"You're saying you put up with this prick Bullweather until he got tired of you?"

"I'm afraid so."

"And how long did this thing go on?"

"Seven months and six days."

"Damn it, Fraser, that just sucks."

"I'd have to agree. It was shortly after that when I had my first encounter with Victoria. It seems my thirst for self-destruction hadn't quite ended." Ray sat there staring, his mouth slightly open, not sure what to say. Fraser saved him the trouble. "So you see, Ray, I'm not a perfect Mountie, not even close."

"Knock me over with a feather, color me stunned. It's hard to take in."

"I understand."

"No you don't. You don't even see it."

"See what?"

"That you're as messed up as I am, that you got abused, too."

Fraser frowned in confusion. "Are you comparing my relationship with Joshua to what happened to you with Clooney?"

"Well, I'll admit it's not exactly the same. I never got wined and dined in the beginning, but abuse is abuse." Throat dry, Ray forced himself to keep talking. "Last year, right after he killed Ricky, he hurt me, hurt me like nobody should ever hurt another person. I never really said it out loud or talked about it, and that hurt, too, hurt like hell to keep it all inside, to cover it up like it never happened. But it did happen, just like Bullweather happened."

Ray choked on his next words, closing his eyes, afraid to chance the light even a little bit. "And I'm afraid, Fraser."

Fraser palmed his hand over his heart. "Afraid of what, Ray?"

"Afraid it happened again and I can't even remember."

Fraser didn't say a word, just pulled Ray into his arms and held him until the tears and shaking ended, letting fitful sleep finally move in and take over.

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray."

"Has anybody said anything?"

Fraser turned from doing the dishes and wiped his hands on the towel. "About what?"

"About us."

"Ah."

"Don't go ahhing again. It's too damn early in the morning."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Ray."

"How about a straight answer. What are people saying about us?"

Fraser frowned and stepped closer to the sofa. "What do you expect them to say?"

"That's a question, Fraser, not an answer."

"But it's a valid question."

"That's not the point." Ray shifted on the sofa, his left arm driving him crazy, the itching, the pain, and it never fucking stopped. "I'm just asking because I was thinking that we should probably talk about whether or not we want to say anything, like make it official."

"Official?"

"Yeah, you know, tell people officially that we're together."

Fraser bit back an ah and stepped around Dief, who never wandered far from his partner's side since his release from the hospital. He sat in the chair across from Ray to face him. "How do you feel about that, Ray? Do you want to tell people?"

"I don't know. I'm just trying to get a feel for what you feel."

"Well, I feel comfortable with people knowing if you do."

"God, we're so fucked."

Fraser frowned. "I don't understand."

"We're fucked because I don't know if I want to say anything or not. I mean, look what happened with my folks."

Fraser got up and moved to the sofa, his thigh butted up next to Ray's. "I'm sorry about your parents."

"I know."

"I wish there were something I could do to convince your father that our love isn't unnatural."

"Unnatural?"

"That's one of the terms he used."

Ray snorted. "Oh, yeah, I'll bet. I'll bet he used a few other choice terms, too."

"Well, yes, but he was upset at the time."

"Don't make excuses for him, Fraser. I love my dad, but he doesn't make it easy when he's such an asshole."

Fraser nodded, his elbows on his knees, bracing him as he leaned forward. "It's been my experience that fathers can be very human in their shortcomings."

Ray studied him, Fraser's eyes staring off, lost in his own past. "Your dad gave you a hard time, huh?"

"Not so much a hard time as an unrealistic expectation for both him and myself. It's only been since his death that I've actually come to know him and to learn that he loved me."

"You didn't know that before?"

"No, I didn't. I knew an image of my father, but not the real man and he certainly didn't know me."

"I'm sorry." Ray sighed and rubbed the back of Fraser's neck, the heat electric and tingly against his fingers. Fraser moaned at his touch and relaxed into it.

"You know, Ray, it's been a relief that you've seen him, too."

"Why's that?"

"Well, it makes me think I'm not totally unbalanced."

Chuckling, Ray squeezed Fraser's nape and then released him. "You, unhinged, because you talk to a dead guy? Never happen. The old man and his little visits? That secret's safe with me."

"That's good to know." Fraser lifted his head and met Ray's eyes, his expression serious again. "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Did your father always have such a negative opinion about homosexuals?"

"You mean was he always such a homophobic bigot?"

"Something like that, yes."

"As far back as I can remember."

"Did he make it a practice to share his views when you were younger?"

Ray sat back, sighing heavily, not really wanting to talk about the secret, but knowing he should. "My dad's brother was gay."

"Your uncle?"

"Yeah, my Uncle Davey."

"I didn't know that."

"I'm telling you now." The words came out strained, too snappish. "Sorry. I just have a hard time talking about it. I liked Davey, but Dad, well, Dad wouldn't let him in the house. Went on and on about the sins of being a faggot, about how Davey was going to burn in hell, and how nasty it was. Did I mention we were raised Catholic?"

"Yes, you did, and I'm sorry."

"That we were raised Catholic?"

"That you were raised with such prejudice."

"Yeah, well, I tried not to let it get to me."

"But it did."

"Sometimes, but fighting with my old man, well, I might as well kick myself in the head and be done with it. Waste of time. Anyway, Davey died when I was about fourteen. I didn't get to see him much, just when something happened where the whole family got together like a wedding or funeral. I remember people used to talk so bad about him, said he shouldn't even be there, called him those ugly names when they thought I couldn't hear. But you know me, Big Ears Stanley."

"You called yourself Big Ears Stanley?"

"No, Fraser, that's just an expression. I had big ears."

"I love your ears, Ray. They're proportionally quite pleasing."

"Thank you, I think, but I meant that I heard everything I wasn't supposed to hear because I was nosey. I always wanted to know what was going on even as a kid. Curious should've been my middle name instead of Raymond."

"It would certainly be most fitting."

"You bet. Then there were those people like my Aunt Rita who loved Davey, made sure to stand up for him. Boy, did Rita and my dad go at it sometimes."

"Is your Aunt Rita still alive?"

Ray glanced up. "Rita? Yeah, sure. She lives in Florida. Never really sees my dad."

"What about you? Don't you see her?"

"Fraser, I've lived pretty much undercover off and on for the last eight years. I haven't really had time to see her." Ray shrugged. "Might make time now. At least she probably won't disown me if she finds out."

"So, is it your belief that your father's extreme reaction to our relationship is a direct result of his negative relationship with his own brother?"

"Maybe, but more likely he just bought the whole anti-gay shit from the church. I mean, I love you, Fraser, but I'm so glad I met Stella first."

Taken aback, Fraser turned, his face suddenly pale. "What?"

"Think about it. I'm almost forty and I'm having trouble dealing with what others think even now though I know I shouldn't give a shit. I mean, I know that I should just worry about what I think. The thing is, I couldn't have done this at all back then, not as a teenager." Ray swallowed hard, his gut all knotted. "I don't think I could've handled it. I would've been on the streets or something worse."

"Something worse?"

"You know."

"Know what?"

Ray wet his lips and closed his eyes. "Did you know that a gay teenager is ten times more likely to commit suicide than a straight kid?"

Fraser stayed quiet until Ray opened his eyes. "Are you saying you would've committed suicide if you'd realized you were gay as a teenager?"

"Yeah, maybe. I could handle Stella even if she was way too good for me. I could handle all the ribbing I took for trying to nab some girl out of my league, but being gay? I don't think so." Ray paused. "How did you handle it, Fraser? When you were with Innusiq, did you ever think about shit like that?"

"No, not when I was with Innusiq."

Ray sat forward. "But you did with Bullweather?"

"And with Victoria."

Ray took his hand and squeezed it for comfort. "Jesus, Fraser."

"I'm fine now, Ray. Don't worry. I only allowed myself an occasional wallow in self-pity, but I can certainly understand the state of mind that would lead one to commit such a desperate act."

"Did you ever talk to anyone about it?"

"I'm talking to you."

"What about Vecchio? Did you ever say anything to him?"

Fraser shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Ray Vecchio would be the last person I'd talk to about my feelings for another man."

Tugging Fraser back closer to his side, Ray nodded. "I take it he'd freak if he found out the guy playing him announced he was shacked up with his Mountie."

"That's putting it rather mildly."

"You don't want him to know then?"

"Not until his assignment is over. Even then, well, I need to be the one to tell him."

"You think he'll flip?"

"Flip?"

"You know, go nuts, go postal, have a cow?"

"I seriously doubt he'll have a bovine, but I'd be surprised if he's very accepting. Ray has many good qualities, but I'm afraid tolerance of homosexuality isn't one of them. Plus, there's the added complication of Ray thinking I didn't trust him enough to tell him of my proclivities in the first place."

"Proclivities? Sounds like you've got a rash or something. The thing is, will he get over all that or will he be an asshole like my dad?"

"I hope he'll accept it and be happy for us, but I honestly couldn't say."

"If he's a real friend, it won't matter."

"I hope you're right."

"Still doesn't answer my question. Do we tell people or not?"

Fraser sat back up and sighed. "You asked earlier what people were saying about us."

"Yeah?"

"Well, do you want to know what some people are saying or just the views of the people who know us fairly well and care about us?"

"Damn. Hard question." Ray held up a hand. "Okay. Okay. Let me guess. Some people are saying we're fags and aren't happy about having queers on the force, some people being guys like Grayson and Peters down on first."

"And Detectives Riley and Johnson in Vice."

"Figures. And the rest."

"The rest are just happy you're alive. I'm fairly certain Lt. Welsh and the other detectives of the 27th are aware of our changed status, but they've not said anything negative within earshot."

"Nothing?"

"Not really. Francesca still seems oblivious to the changes in our partnership, but otherwise, most people seem rather accepting."

"Business as usual?"

"Apparently."

Ray scratched his head, slightly bewildered. "Queer."

"Excuse me?"

"It's just queer that they don't seem to mind."

"You do realize that Chicago has a fairly progressive policy about homosexual officers. Perhaps that official stand has helped bring a more open acceptance of alternative lifestyles within the ranks."

Ray snorted with dark amusement. "Not hardly, Fraser. I've been in the ranks and it ain't pretty if you're gay. No, this is something different. Maybe it's one of those don't ask, don't tell things. We don't say anything, and they don't mention it, either. Then nobody has to deal with it. It's sucks, but it's better than a dildo shoved in your locker or cocksucker sprayed on your car."

Puzzled, Fraser studied his partner. "Are you referring to incidents that have actually happened or are you just using your rather colorful imagination?"

"I've seen it, Fraser. A guy named Conover got that and more done to him at the one seven. I worked undercover for IA to catch the guys who were doing it. Believe me, I was grateful to leave the place when it came out that I'd ratted out the fuckers who harassed him. The other cops were more angry at me than them. That's what I'm saying. It gets ugly sometimes because attitudes like that haven't changed and haven't been called off like they should've been years ago."

"Then perhaps the best course would be to continue as we are."

"No official announcement then?"

"But no denial."

Ray nodded. "Got it. They ask, we'll tell, but we ain't going to give them the starting gun."

"Sounds reasonable. Now, would you like some pineapple juice or more coffee?"

"More coffee, thanks."

Fraser stood and picked up Ray's mug from the coffee table before heading back to the kitchen. Ray watched him, pleased and warmed by his presence. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Love you."

Fraser smiled that million dollar Mountie smile. "I love you, too, Ray."

"Not just symbolically or something?"

"In every way."

"Oh, yeah, that works."

A sudden knock and Dief's bark erupted at the same time. Ray jumped back just as the full coffee mug crashed and shattered all over the floor. "Fuck."

Dief yapped some more and bounded to the door as the knocking kept getting louder. Frustrated, his heart racing, Ray moved around the mess and walked over behind Dief. "Who is it?"

"Open up, Vecchio."

Frowning, still wired, Ray unlocked the door and opened it. "Hey, Lieu. What's up?"

Lt. Welsh studied him with that sober look he had, the one that made Ray really uneasy. He held a folder in one hand and had a coat draped over his other arm. "I heard a noise. You drop something?"

"Coffee. Come on in." Welsh followed him into the apartment and waited while Ray locked the door again. Dief sniffed at Welsh, got the inevitable pat, and then curled himself back on the rug beside the sofa, his eyes still watchful, but less wary. Ray motioned to the spill and shards in the kitchen. "Be careful. I've got to clean this mess up."

Frowning, Welsh shook his head. "Sit down. I'll do it. Where's the broom?"

"It's my fault. I can do it."

"Sit, Kowalski. I've got this." Reluctantly, Ray obeyed and sat at the table, his head pounding. He watched as Welsh put his coat on the back of a chair and dropped the folder in front of him. "Broom?"

"Beside the refrigerator."

Welsh fetched the broom, dustpan, and some paper towels and proceeded to clean up the spill and mug fragments. "I take it the good Constable's not here at the moment."

"Look around. See any red?" Welsh's head came up in response to the surly tone, his eyes narrowed and focused on Ray. Ray swallowed hard. "Sorry. I'm just a little jumpy. Didn't expect company."

"I can see that."

They remained quiet until Welsh finished clearing up the mess. He washed his hands quickly. "Since I interrupted your last cup, would you like some coffee?"

"No, but help yourself."

Instead, Welsh shook his head and settled in the chair across from Ray. "You look like shit, Kowalski."

"Thanks."

"I mean it. I expected you to look better, not well, but better. What's going on?"

Ray couldn't look up, couldn't meet his eyes. "Nothing. Same thing. What do you want me to say?"

"The truth is usually a good start."

"I thought it would be better once I got out of the hospital."

"What?"

"Everything. I can't seem to settle down." Ray rubbed his hand over his hair, making it stick up even worse than before. "I can't get my head straight."

"You sleeping?"

"All the time, not at all."

Welsh's face got even more serious. "Bad dreams?"

"Whoppers."

"You talk to Constable Fraser about it?"

"Yeah. Mostly."

"Does it help?"

"Sometimes."

"You don't tell him the whole story though, right?"

"Hard to. I don't even know the whole story."

Nodding, Welsh pushed the folder closer. "You've got some papers to sign. It's for your leave time. I've also included a list of doctors I want you to consider."

"Doctors?"

"I'm sure Constable Fraser informed you that Reese removed himself from the case."

"Yeah. He didn't have to do that."

"True, but he had his reasons. The point is, you have to see somebody before you return to active duty." He didn't pause long enough for Ray to protest, just kept talking, the words bulldozed together. "I took the liberty of scouting some recommendations. I placed a star by the ones who specialize in trauma cases, especially for police officers." Welsh tapped the top of the closed folder. "It might help to start seeing someone before you head off to Canada. Regardless, at some point, it's standard procedure after an officer is seriously wounded to be evaluated and cleared first."

Ray didn't touch the folder, moved his hand back. "You come here to tell me that, to tell me I have to see another shrink before I can get my job back?"

"Partly."

"Partly?"

"You're a good detective, one of the best I've ever worked with. I don't usually say this kind of thing, but Vecchio's going to have a hard time living up to the job after you."

Ray's throat tightened at the praise. "Thanks, sir."

"I'm not finished. The thing is, I'm good at my job, too. I've been doing this a long time so I've seen officers come and go, the good and the bad. I'll admit in the beginning, I was skeptical about how this operation would play out. You've got an attitude, Detective, a bravado that actually works in your favor. That's not something everyone can pull off. You're cocky, quick-tempered, and headstrong, but you're also smart, honest, and entirely too tough sometimes."

"Too tough?"

"That's what I said, too tough. You think you have to be strong and never falter, put on a brave face. Believe me, as a cop I understand that mindset. Show a weakness in this line of work and some scavengers will have your proverbial ass for breakfast. Still, a good cop also has to recognize when he's got a problem or he could get himself killed." Welsh fisted his hands together on the table and leaned in. "It's not just about you. It's about all the people you work with, too, including Constable Fraser."

Ray held his head in his upraised hand. "You don't think I know that, that I don't get that?"

"Knowing something and doing something about it are very different things." Welsh hesitated, took a calming breath, and then continued. "It's hard for anybody, but especially a police officer to admit he needs help. We're supposed to protect people. We have all these heroic images and lofty ideals we're supposed to live up to. We're on the front line. Hell, we are the front line. Too many times one of us gets hurt doing the job, gets hammered trying to keep people safe. It takes a very brave man to admit that he needs help with the emotional fallout that sometimes comes with that. I know it's difficult, but I also know it's necessary."

Ray hated the words, hated the truth behind them. "I'll think about it."

"Do more than think about it. I'll leave the papers here for you to read through and sign. You can have the Constable bring them by the station later on."

Nodding, Ray ran his fingers over the edge of the folder, still not meeting Welsh's concerned eyes. "Sure."

"You need anything before I leave? Coffee, something else to drink?"

"I'm good."

"You're anything but good right now."

Ray bit his lower lip, wanting to snap back, knowing if he did he wouldn't stop. He'd start ranting and give the Lieutenant even more fuel to believe he'd gone batshit crazy. Instead, he kept his voice level and practiced his cop voice. "Thanks for bringing the forms by."

"You're welcome. Say hello to Constable Fraser. Sorry I missed him. At some level I'm sure I would've enjoyed the encounter."

Welsh got his coat and headed to the door, Ray moving slowly behind him. "Sir?"

Welsh turned. "Yes?"

"Thanks for what you said, you know, all that stuff about me being a good cop."

"Just don't get yourself nearly killed again so you can hear it one more time and you're welcome."

"Don't worry about me, Son. I was thinking about pulling up stakes anyway. Stay in one place too long and one can miss the opportunities elsewhere."

Fraser turned from his desk and stared at his father standing in his closet doorway. He continued folding the bedroll, unperturbed by the sudden appearance. "I'll still be working here as long as I'm assigned to Chicago."

"Won't be the same."

"I'm sure Ray's apartment has plenty of space for an office."

"Oh, I'm not so sure, Son. Seems a might too crowded for the three of us. An in-law shouldn't overstay his welcome. Lonnie Deerstalker can attest to that. His mother-in-law stayed until the man nearly went mad. Just got up one morning and walked around half-naked, mumbling about fried eggs and biscuits in the middle of a snow storm. Wouldn't want it to come to that."

"Ray likes you."

"The Yank is a good man, Benton. At least you've abandoned convention for a faithful and trust-worthy partner. There's something to be said for choosing what best suits us rather than going along with what society dictates. I'm not saying that we should all run off and flaunt tradition, but I won't deny that I'm proud that you didn't pick someone outrageously inappropriate this time."

Fraser took a deep breath and he closed his duffel bag. "Did you know about Bullweather?"

"The man should be horsewhipped and drummed out of the service. His abuse of power was disgraceful. "

"Then you knew?"

"Not until after the fact, no."

"Would you have believed me if I'd told you?"

His father stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back, but his eyes meeting Fraser's. "Death brings a person a whole new perspective on life, Son. At the time I must admit I was ashamed of both you and Bullweather. I didn't understand my part in the path you traveled."

Fraser's face flamed. "I made my own choices."

"I won't debate that they were your choices, bad ones."

"No question."

"Still, if I'd shown you more attention, perhaps you wouldn't have made certain decisions that led you to that miserable relationship. I can't claim to be completely blameless. For that, I'm truly sorry. I should have been there to be a better parent." Fraser remained quiet, overwhelmed by his father's unexpected admission. He blinked back the mist that blurred his vision. "Perhaps that's why I'm still here."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm still bound to this earth for some reason. Perhaps it's to be the parent I should have strived to be when I was alive."

Fraser studied his father's serious features. "You're being a supportive parent now if that's any consolation."

"Thank you kindly, Son. You certainly don't make the task easy."

Shaking his head in amusement, his response to his father's parting shot stalled with a knock at his office door. His father evaporated and Fraser turned his attention back to the living. "Enter."

"Sir, it's nice to see you."

"Thank you, Constable Turnbull. It's nice to see you as well. What can I do for you?"

Turnbull smiled, turning over a small package in his hands nervously. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you on your arrival, but Inspector Thatcher had me running some crucial errands."

"Dry cleaning?"

"And leather repair. Mr. Cruthers' has a very reliable service."

"Right you are."

"At any rate, I wanted to inquire if you needed my assistance in packing."

Fraser motioned at the duffel bag. "Things are well in hand, but I thank you for the offer."

"You're quite welcome."

"I wanted to inquire as to the health of Detective Vecchio."

"As you know, he's out of the hospital, and while he's far from a full recovery, he's doing much better. Thank you for asking."

Turnbull stood there several long moments after Fraser finished speaking, still using the box in his hand like a spin toy.

"Turnbull, is there something else?"

Embarrassed, Turnbull blushed. "I'm sorry, sir. Woolgathering."

"I can see that."

Turnbull held out the package. "I wanted to ask you to deliver this to Detective Vecchio."

"You could do that yourself."

"Oh, no, sir. I wouldn't want to impose." Turnbull refused to meet his eyes. "It's just a token, something to show my friendship and my best wishes for his recovery."

Fraser took the present and nodded, knowing that it stood for far more than friendship in Turnbull's eyes. A part of him sympathized with his colleague's heartache, while another part danced with glee that Ray didn't go for tall, sweet, and addled. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it. I'll give it to him this evening."

"Thank you kindly. You must be excited at moving into a new abode, sir."

Fraser nodded as he put the package into one of the outside pockets of his duffel. He considered the drastic changes in his life, sleeping with Ray, cleaning up the clutter, kissing Ray whenever he wanted. He smiled at the prospect. "There will be some adjusting to be done, but Diefenbaker will have more space."

"It's especially fortunate that Detective Vecchio will have you there to aid him through his convalescence as well."

"Indeed."

Turnbull wet his lips, his hands anxious as he played with the papers on Fraser's desk, straightening the neat piles into the same neat piles. "Sir, I processed the application for your extended leave, and please don't think I'm being too forward for asking, but are you taking Detective Vecchio home with you on your vacation?"

Fraser paused, considering his answer carefully. "Actually, Ray wanted to see my father's cabin. I'm taking him there during his recovery."

"Please don't take this as a criticism, sir, but are you sure that's a sound decision? Normally, Ray, if I may call him Ray, is quite fit and more than able to stand the rigors that our native land sometimes dictates, but he did just get out of the hospital and it is December."

Fraser crossed his arms, irritated at the question, his patience tested. "Constable, I appreciate your concern, but do you really think I'd endanger Ray's health?"

"No, sir, not normally."

"Not normally?"

"Yes, sir. It's just that, if I may say so, and with all due respect, when it comes to your partner, you sometimes take risks that you might not otherwise consider. If Ray asked you to take him to our homeland, for whatever reason, I believe you would do so even if that might not be in his best interest."

Startled by his colleague's rather keen and unsettling observation, Fraser frowned. "You're saying you think I'm not entirely objective when it comes to Ray's wishes."

"Exactamundo, sir. Ray blinds you."

"Blinds me?"

"With love, sir. We should all be so fortunate."

Turnbull left the room before Fraser could say a single thing to dispute or thank him.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Disgusted, Ray dropped the package on the bathroom counter and slumped onto the toilet seat. Sitting in the dark, he shook his head in frustration and started in again. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"Ray?"

Fraser's voice interrupted his rant. "In here, Fraser."

A few moments later, Fraser stood in the bathroom doorway. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened, not a damn thing."

Rubbing his eyebrow, not the least bit convinced, Fraser flipped the switch and got no light. "I see the bulb needs to be replaced."

"Which I was trying to do, but you ever tried to change one of those things with one hand? You can't get the fucking cover off without dropping it."

"I see the problem."

"Yeah, tell me about it. They do it on purpose. Why is that? It should not be some big fucking deal to change a light bulb."

"It's easily fixed, Ray."

"I wanted to do it." Even to himself it sounded pissy, but he didn't care, just didn't.

"Perhaps a compromise is in order."

"Compromise?"

"Yes, a concession as to how to solve the problem."

"I know what a fucking compromise is."

Fraser stepped closer. "I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to imply that you didn't. I just meant, perhaps I can change this bulb and you can change the next one when you're more able."

"Like take turns?"

"Exactly."

Slightly more calm, Ray nodded. "Okay, okay, I can go with that, but it still butters my muffins. I should be able to do this."

"You're overreacting."

Ray stood up, his jaw tight. "Don't do that. Don't fucking say that I'm overreacting, not until you've had your arm snapped like a twig and held hostage in plaster." Fraser sighed, tried to touch his face in apology, but Ray twisted away, still more angry than he should be. "Just fix it."

Storming out, Ray headed to the living room. Any other time and he'd go to the gym or the station, maybe do a little boxing or arrest some scumbag. Hell, he couldn't even have a drink, not without playing true confessions with Fraser. He wanted to fly apart in all directions, to scream and kick and maybe even bite a few ears off.

Diefenbaker watched him from the side chair, alert for any sudden moves or a quick getaway. Fraser came in from the bedroom, walked past him, returning the box of remaining bulbs to the cabinet. He stood there leaning back against the counter for several minutes before he finally spoke quietly. "Did something else happen while I was out?"

"Like what?"

"I'm asking you."

"Nothing happened. Light bulb went out, light bulb stayed out. Stupid light bulb."

"You appear agitated."

"I'm wired, that's all, all cooped up. Cooped up makes me antsy."

"I see. So there was nothing else?"

Ray wrapped his good arm around his chest as he kept pacing, the energy buzzing through his body. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to hear what Fraser had to say at the moment. "Nothing means nothing."

"You've got coffee stains on your sweat pants."

"So? You the laundry police now?"

Not reacting to the hostile tone, Fraser remained calm. He picked up the folder on the table and opened it. "Did Lt. Welsh drop these by?"

"Yeah."

"Would you like me to fill them out?"

"I can do my own paperwork, Fraser. I'm not totally useless. I can still hold a fucking pen."

"Ray, did I do something to upset you?"

Turning, Ray stopped, startled by the hurt tone and the strained features of his partner. He swallowed back his own impatience, the urge to keep going head to toe. "It's not you. It's me. I'm just pissed for no reason. It's not about light bulbs, never was. Everything's just spinning too fast all of a sudden, like I dropped speed or something. I should be sleeping. That's what I usually do when I take this stuff, but right now I can't seem to settle down, can't get a handle on what's making me feel all crazy."

"Perhaps it was this list of doctors Lt. Welsh provided?"

Sighing, Ray sagged down on the sofa and closed his eyes. "I hate this. I hate the idea of starting all over, telling some stranger about what happened when I don't even know. On top of that, I'm afraid I won't pass, won't get well enough to be a cop again, ever." Ray rubbed his eyes with one hand, his gut all twisty inside. "I just want to do my job and it's like a conspiracy, some kind of plot to keep me from doing it. Welsh is the brick wall and I'm the smashed bug."

Fraser didn't say anything at first, just moved to sit next to him. After a few moments, he spoke softly. "Ray, there's no doubt in my mind that if you want to be a police officer again, that's what you will be."

"You don't know that."

"But I believe it."

"Believing don't make a thing so."

"True." Fraser paused and tried again from a different angle. "You once told me that you never wanted to be a police officer, but you never told me what your aspirations were. What would you be if you decided not to be a detective?"

Ray opened his eyes, his mind reeling back to years before, his dreams all mangled up by bank robbers and Stella. "Wanted to be a mechanic before that whole pissing in the pants thing went down. It wasn't just the bank that wrecked that idea, though. No way Stella would marry some grease monkey, not with the way she wanted to live." Ray laughed to himself. "Probably would've made more money in the long run. I could've had my own garage, my own business by now."

"You still could. Ray, your only option isn't police work. You can do anything you want."

More relaxed, Ray shook his head. "No, not now. I mean, I could do it if I had to, but I really like being a cop most of the time. It's kind of hard to get the same rush fixing engines that you do busting some scumbag for murder or hurting some kid."

"Any job well done can be gratifying."

"Didn't say different. I just like arresting assholes who deserve it."

"And I have every confidence that you'll do that again soon. You just have to be patient."

"Me and patience, Fraser, not a good mix."

"I'm very aware of that."

Fraser's tight tone stopped him. Ray turned his head and then rubbed Fraser's sleeve a few times in apology. "I'm sorry about being such a pain in the ass. I don't mean to take it out on you, I don't. I hate when I do it, but it's like I just got this mouth that starts yapping on its own sometimes."

Capturing Ray's hand, Fraser squeezed it gently. "I understand your frustration and fear, Ray. I really do. I want to be helpful, but your hostility is difficult to bear when it's aimed in my direction."

"Ah, Fraser, I'm sorry, really." Ray dropped his forehead to Fraser's shoulder, truly ashamed of his fussy behavior. He needed a good kick in the head, a serious drop kick to make that kind of shit stop. "I'm just a prick sometimes."

"Apology accepted." Fraser patted his head as he smiled again. "I've got something for you."

Ray released his grip and watched as Fraser went to his duffel bag and retrieved a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. Ray took it and held it up to his ear as he shook it. "What is it?"

"A present from Turnbull."

Ray studied it again with more caution. "You think it's safe?"

"I have no doubt. As I've mentioned before, Constable Turnbull has very fond feelings for you. He wanted to give you something as a token of his friendship and he sends his best wishes for your recovery."

"Don't start with the fond feelings again. Turnbull's not like that."

"Ray, I assure you that Constable Turnbull is very much 'like that'."

"Really?"

"Why are you so surprised?"

"I don't know. It just seems weird that the only two Mounties I know are gay and the Ice Queen, well, I'm not that sure about her, either."

"Strictly speaking, I'm a functional bisexual."

"But Turnbull's gay, right?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"And the Ice Queen?"

Fraser held his expression in check, but just barely, a grin just under the surface. Then he tutted. "Now, Ray, Inspector Thatcher's inclinations are none of our business."

"Come on, Frase. She's more butch than I am. You can't tell me that she wouldn't be open to some girl-on-girl action to take the edge off if she had to."

Sitting down beside him, Fraser blushed deeply and shook his head. "Please, such a scenario is one that I don't care to even consider."

"Why not? She'd be hot going at it with some thin, blond chick."

"You mean like Stella?"

Ray groaned, his own face hot. "Don't even go there. Do not go there. I do not, I repeat, do not, want that image in my head." Then he smiled, his naughty mind making its way there anyway. "Though I'd lay odds Stella would be on top."

Fraser didn't argue, obviously didn't even want to think about it. "Why don't you open the gift?"

His attention came back to the small package. "Sure, sure." Ripping off the paper, he opened the box. He took a deep breath, his head swimming with sweetness. "Chocolate. Good stuff, too."

Fraser nodded in approval. "Made from scratch, no doubt. Constable Turnbull is noted for his rather unique confections."

"You're saying he makes candy?"

"For special occasions, yes."

Ray picked up one of the treats and studied it. "Looks like a bird."

Fraser checked it out and then scanned the other candies. "An eagle. He's also included a whale, a wolf, a polar bear, a caribou, a fox, a seal, and a snowshoe hare. Excellent work, too. I'm sure he carved the molds himself."

"Carved the molds?"

"For the candy."

"You're telling me Turnbull carves these little animal pictures into wood or something and then makes the candy, too, just for a gift?"

"Not just any gift, Ray. One that symbolizes his hope for your recovery."

"Why animals?"

"Well, you'll notice that these are all artic creatures, animals that are important symbols to the Inuit. The Inuit, as you know, believe in animism."

"Animism? Like why I can't see straight?"

"You mean astigmatism?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"No. Animism is the belief that one can gain the spiritual strength of a creature by wearing, or in this case ingesting, its image."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all."

"That's weird."

"It's no more weird than the communion practiced in your own church."

Ray shook his head, still holding the candy, wondering why the hell Turnbull just couldn't send him M&Ms like everyone else so he didn't have to listen to a lecture he didn't really want to hear. "I don't get it. What's communion got to do with eating chocolate critters?"

"Communion is based on the belief that one consumes a representation of the body and blood of Christ in the form of the Eucharist..."

"Eucharist?"

"Communion wafer and wine."

"Gotcha."

"It's believed that when it enters your body it is literally transformed and creates a spiritual connection with your God. The Inuit and many other aboriginal people believe a similar thing happens, only they take in or carry the image of the animal instead, and draw strength and power from the earth."

The chocolate eagle vanished half way through Fraser's exposition. Ray sighed as the delicious flavor washed his tongue. Several chews later, he returned his attention to his partner and held out the box. "Want one? Better than animal crackers by a long shot."

Used to Ray's wandering attention span, Fraser just shook his head. "No, thank you. I should fix supper. Maybe you should save those for dessert."

Ray popped the creamy caribou in his mouth and then nodded, handing the package to Fraser. "You better take'em. I'll eat the whole box if you don't. Turnbull outdid himself. How'd he know I liked chocolate so much?"

Fraser took the box and chuckled fondly. "The same way we all know Diefenbaker likes doughnuts, simple observation."

"You saying I eat a lot of chocolate?"

"It appears to be your number one food group."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Fraser ignored the rhetorical question. "What would you like for supper, Ray?"

"Let me guess, we've got pasta or we've got pasta."

"There's also a fine broccoli and cheese casserole."

"I'd rather eat whale blubber and lichens, Frase. Go with whatever you want, though. I'm not that hungry."

Ray fiddled with the edge of the sofa, wanting to eat more chocolate, refraining because Fraser wanted him to eat right for a change. Being a couple made it hard to fill up on all the good stuff sometimes.

"Ray, we could order one of those pizzas you like so well."

"With the pineapple?"

"With whatever toppings you prefer."

"What about all that food we've got in the fridge? I know how you are about not wanting to waste stuff."

"There's a shelter just a few blocks away. I know Father Donegel personally. I'm sure he can find a good use for the Vecchio donations."

Ray met Fraser's caring blue eyes and nodded. "Sure, okay, if you don't mind pizza, that'd be good. I could go with that."

"Pineapple pizza it is, then."

"You're hot."

Ray peeked an eye open and turned his head, his brain still fuzzy from being half asleep. Fraser stared down at him, his face serious but a little blurry. Still, if his partner called him sexy, he could at least return the favor because he sure as hell wouldn't be lying. "Thanks, Frase. I think you're hot, too."

Fraser frowned, his brow furrowed. "I'm not running a fever, Ray."

"Huh?"

Palming Ray's forehead, Fraser's face got even more concerned. "You've got a fever. I'd say at least two degrees above normal."

"How can you tell without a thermometer?"

"When I was younger, we learned to rely on our sense of touch to estimate temperature. Still, you're right. I'll get one to be accurate."

Ray stayed in bed under the covers, his body achy and tired while Fraser fetched the thermometer. "Put this under your tongue."

Following orders, Ray opened up and did just that, but then closed his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep, not worry about anything else. After a few minutes of silence, Fraser removed the thermometer and read it. "I was right. We should call the doctor."

"How much is it in real numbers, Fraser, not those weird numbers like you use?"

"It's 101.2 degrees Fahrenheit. And Celsius isn't the least bit weird, Ray. It's used throughout most of the civilized world."

"You saying America's not civilized?"

"I didn't say that." Fraser took a deep breath to focus on the task at hand. "That's not important. The antibiotics are obviously not working. We should call the doctor and find out what to do."

Ray shook his head, still too heavy and lazy to sit up. Even his fat tongue wanted to take a break. He forced himself to talk even when he'd rather be sleeping. "Look, I've got that appointment tomorrow. We'll tell him then."

"It's too risky to wait, Ray. In the hospital you became seriously ill in just a matter of hours."

Closing his eyes, Ray sighed, just not up to the fight. "Do what you want. I'm going back to bed."

"Ray, you're already in bed."

"I meant sleep."

"Right you are. Sleep."

"Just a few winks, a little nap, not long. I'll get up later and have lunch."

A cool hand petted back his hair. "Sleep well."

Soft lips kissed his own, but instead of waking from the spell of exhaustion, Ray fell down a really deep well.

Beeping and distant voices brought him back to the surface slowly. Ray blinked several times, squinting in the bright light. He tried to bring his arm up to cover his eyes, but a stronger hand held it down. "Let go."

"Ray, be still."

"I said, let go, Fraser."

"You need to lie still, Ray. You'll pull out the IV."

"IV? Fuck." Ray groaned, the reality settling in. "How'd I get here?"

"Ambulance. Your fever went up and your heartbeat became irregular. I thought it prudent to bring you in as fast as possible. The doctor agreed and admitted you for more antibiotics and to monitor your heart."

Ray shut his eyes, the weight of being back to where he started almost too much. "I was doing fine."

"Until this morning, yes."

"So what happened?"

"They think it's possible the infection has built up a resistance to the medication. Your white cell count is dangerously high."

"And my heart?"

Fraser paused, his hand still holding Ray's. "Your body's been under a great deal of strain the last few weeks. It could be just a reaction to the stress you've endured."

"And you're saying that's making my heart jumpy?"

"It's possible. They're not sure. It could also be a reaction to the medication or the infection. They want to run more tests to assess the problem. You'll be here at least 48 hours, possibly more."

Ray pulled his hand away, fisting it and then slamming it into the rail. "I hate this shit."

"I know, Ray, as do I. On the positive side, Dr. Raines said that he'd go ahead and change your cast tomorrow if the x-ray shows that there's been enough healing."

Good news made it easier to breathe. "Yeah? You mean old Terry here's going to be history?"

"We can certainly hope so."

"Yeah, yeah, that would be good. I won't miss this thing, not a bit."

After a few moments of eying his cast, Ray turned his head and studied Fraser. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About scaring you like that."

Fraser swallowed hard and confessed. "I was, indeed, frightened, Ray. I had hoped your previous bout with infection was the last."

"Same here." Ray paused and then shifted higher in the bed. "Actually, I feel better, a lot better. Not enough to get up and chase scumbags, but close. Weird. Where's the little button thingy?"

"Right here." Fraser pointed out the control on the railing. "Allow me." With a press of a button, the head raised about 45 degrees and stopped. "Better?"

"All the better to see you with, my dear."

Fraser blushed deeply. "Thank you, Ray. I consider you dear as well."

Ray grinned. "Guess you never heard of Little Red Riding Hood, huh?"

"I'm afraid not, no."

"Too bad. When you're dressed up in your fancy red suit, you two have a lot in common except her wolf's the bad guy."

Obviously puzzled, Fraser merely rubbed his eyebrow. Ray took pity and reached for his hand, which Fraser took without hesitation. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?"

"Like I said, never mind." He squeezed Fraser's hand for reassurance and then licked his lips, his throat dry. He could taste the nasty metallic wash over his tongue from the antibiotics. "I'm kind of thirsty. Could you get me some coffee or something?"

"No coffee, Ray, unless it's decaffeinated. Caffeine is restricted until they know your heart is healthy. However, I can get you some juice, water, or soda."

"No coffee?"

"And no chocolate."

"You're kidding."

"Not at all. Chocolate is a stimulant."

"But I can have it when I get out, right?"

"That will be up to the cardiologist."

"Cardiologist? Not Dr. Barnes?"

"No, it's a Dr. Loren. You've had several physicians working on your case, Ray, all specialists. I must say I'm very impressed with the wide range of skills available in the Chicago area."

"I'd rather just have one good doctor. I can't keep up with the ones I had, now I have a new one? That sucks."

"Dr. Barnes thought it best to consult with a specialist. He's still taking care of your infection and wounds and is coordinating your care while Dr. Raines will continue to attend to your orthopedic needs."

"God, it's a good thing I've got good insurance."

Fraser nodded gravely. "Canada provides all of its citizens free health care. I've often wondered why a nation as grand as your own doesn't at least offer a similar system."

"Don't get me started on that, Frase. It's a sucky system. Being a cop though, you might not get paid much, but you do get pretty good coverage."

"Will this coverage go with you when we travel to Canada?"

"Yeah. Why? You worried about that?"

Fraser hesitated, but then met his eyes. "Constable Turnbull made a rather disturbing comment the other day."

"He says a lot of squirrelly stuff. I wouldn't get all bent out of shape over it."

"Actually, he suggested that I was blinded by my love for you."

Ray's eyes opened a bit wider. "He said that?"

"He was referring to the fact that sometimes I have no objectivity when it comes to you and trying to fulfill your wishes."

"Okay. So, is that like a bad thing in Canada?"

"If taken to extremes, I would think it could be a bad thing anywhere. What I'm saying is that he suggested that perhaps it might not be a good idea for us to travel to my father's cabin while you're still so ill. After what happened today, I'm not sure if he isn't correct."

His chest tightened, and the heart monitor beeped a little faster. "You saying you don't want to take me to Canada like you promised?"

"Not at all. I just think perhaps we should visit the cabin at another time, late spring, or early summer."

"But you don't want to go now?"

"We could still go to Canada, Ray, but I was thinking we could go to Yellowknife or Whitehorse where there are medical facilities in case they're required."

Ray swallowed hard, his disappointment like a heavy stone inside his belly. The words came out defensive. "You think I'm going to get sick. You don't trust me to hack it."

Fraser rubbed his right arm, his hand moving gently up and down the bare skin. "If anything happened to you, Ray, I'd never forgive myself."

Easing into the idea, Ray nodded. "I get that. I guess it makes sense. I don't like it, but it does make sense."

"Even getting to Whitehorse or Yellowknife will be arduous. It'll take several plane trips and up to 12 to 48 hours one way."

"12 to 48 hours?"

"We're going to the artic, Ray. The weather isn't always dependable and it is several thousand kilometers. It might take even longer. It depends on when flights are scheduled."

"So which city do you want to go to, Fraser, Yellowknife or Whitehorse?"

"Well, Whitehorse is bigger, but I have a friend in Yellowknife whom I've contacted about renting a cabin just outside of town. In Whitehorse, we'd be using a house provided for RCMP personnel within the town limits."

"Then I vote for Yellowknife. I want a cabin away from people." Ray's voice lowered to near husky. "I want you all to myself."

Fraser leaned over the rail, kissing his forehead and then his lips briefly. He stood back up and smiled. "I'll make the arrangements. Now, I should get you something to drink. I'll check at the nurse's station first."

"Thanks." As soon as Fraser left, Ray settled back and closed his eyes, thinking maybe he should get a map of Canada to figure out just how far out in the middle of nowhere he was going to end up. Not that it mattered. He still wanted to see Fraser on his own turf, see him all cozy in front of a fire with no other soul for miles around except Ray, the man who loved him enough to go to the ends of the earth and then some.

Still hooked up to an IV and wearing his own little heart monitor strapped around his waist, Ray sat on the edge of the gurney. His feet dangled as he waited for Dr. Raines to show up and tell him about the x-ray and to remove his cast. Just as he thought about screaming out in impatience, Raines came through the curtain. A feudal Lord of old Germany had nothing on this guy. Ray smiled at his paunch under the white coat, the round face. Of course, he might look like some wild character out of history, better suited to eating a leg of lamb in a drafty old castle, but Ray knew from experience that Raines was a skilled doctor who took no guff. He respected that.

Raines indicated the cumbersome cast. "Well, Detective, are you ready to lose this thing?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Good. The x-ray shows the bones are partially healed, though not as healed as I expected. Should be about another three weeks in the new cast. After that, we'll check again. If things go well, then you'll just need some PT and you'll be fine. If not, you might have to wear a temporary cast or a brace a little while longer. Either way, you'll need the PT."

"Physical therapy? What for? I didn't need it last time, at least not with the arm."

"The last time your breaks weren't at critical points for rotation. You'll most likely need help to fully rotate your hand again and to get the full strength back in your grip."

Ray bit his lower lip, disappointed at the prospect of physical therapy and the pain he knew that came with that. "So we going to do this thing or not?"

"There's no hurry. From the look of you, you're not going anywhere fast. Though I will say you look a lot prettier than the last time I saw you. The nose won't need to be straightened after all. I was worried about that."

Uneasy with the memory of his broken face and all the pain that went with it, Ray sidestepped that conversation. Instead, he indicated the cast. "I'm just tired of carrying this thing around."

"I can appreciate that."

A nurse brought in a tray containing the saw and the casting materials. The buzzing started and Ray watched in fascination as the nurse held up his arm and Raines proceeded to saw the cast off, the plaster sending up a fine dust. As soon as he made a line all the way from the upper arm to the thumb on the right, he then cut open the other side. It broke away, revealing the shriveled thing that used to be Ray's arm. Yellowish, dry skin peeled away and while Raines disposed of the cast, the nurse washed and dried his arm quickly and efficiently.

Raines then took his arm, using one of his own to brace it and the other to steady the wrist still turned in toward Ray. "This is going to be uncomfortable."

"Is that your way of saying it's going to hurt?"

"Just relax."

"That's a little hard to do here."

"Let's straighten out your arm first. Easy. Let me do the work."

Carefully, he let Raines guide him to straighten his arm, the tightness stretching into pain. "Shit."

"The muscles will relax more after we do a few flexes." He proceeded to do just that, the deep pull like nothing Ray ever experienced, like it wanted to lock into the bent position. After a few more times, the pain became more of a dull, throbbing ache that ran all the way up his arm through his back and shoulder. "Now, I need you to take a few deep breaths and try to relax even more."

"It hurts, Doc."

"I know, but it'll hurt less if you try to work with me by relaxing. Don't try to move on your own. Your muscles have stiffened up in this position. Now, I'm going to change that. I'm going to rotate your hand to palm down and then I'm going to straighten it to the angle I want. It's going to feel like I'm ripping off your hand, but trust me, I know what I'm doing."

Before he complained again, Raines turned his wrist slowly downward, the pain echoing all the way down to the bones. "Jesus."

"Just keep taking deep breaths."

"Easy for you to say."

Raines didn't answer, just used both hands to position the wrist, slowly pushing and pulling until tears streamed down Ray's face. He didn't whimper, but he wanted to. After Raines stopped, he patted the hand and smiled. "That should do it."

"Sadist." The word slipped out between clenched teeth.

"Now, Ray, I wasn't the one who broke it. I'm just the one who fixes it." Raines kept smiling. Probably wasn't the first time he'd been called names. "Now, Angela will do the new cast. Keep it dry like before and wear the sling. Elevate it at night if there's swelling. She'll also give you some literature and demonstrate how to exercise the fingers and thumb while you're still in the cast. It's important to do that so they don't freeze up and to keep down the swelling. Then later when the cast is off, you'll have more exercises to do on your own in addition to the PT. Any questions?"

"I need another prescription for the Percocet."

"No problem, but you should probably start to wean yourself off those over the next week or so. I'm going to reduce the dose a bit. Are you okay with that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Raines frowned. "Do you think you still need the higher dose?"

"It still hurts, a lot, so yeah, I'd like to keep the stronger stuff."

Nodding thoughtfully, Raines motioned to the nurse to start the casting. "Sure, okay. But only one refill. After that, you should try using the Tylenol or Ibuprofen. If you're still in pain, then we can talk about pain management techniques you can use."

"I thought that's what we were doing."

"Ray, I know a broken bone can be painful, especially a bad break like this one, but I don't want you to become too dependent."

"I just about had my hand ripped off. It's not like I'm popping pills for the fun of it."

The nurse slipped the gauze tubing over his hand and halfway up his arm just below his elbow, wrapping the wet plaster strips around his wrist first.

Reluctantly, Raines nodded and then patted Ray on his shoulder. "I'll write the script, but it's the last one."

"Thanks."

Ray closed his eyes while the nurse finished up, his mind dark and wishing he'd been brave enough to ask for a shot of the good stuff, just something to take the edge off.

"Oh, yes, Ray, much preferable."

Ray smiled, lifting his arm and actually waving it a bit. "Light as a feather, too."

"Are you going to name this one?"

"Might. Might call it Lou."

"Lou?"

"Reminds me of a Louisville Slugger, kind of. I could bat with this thing if I practiced my swing enough. Of course, I usually swing right, but it's good to be able to switch hit." Ray stopped abruptly, realizing what he'd just said. "Oh, man."

"What?"

"You didn't catch that?"

Fraser frowned, puzzled. "Catch what, Ray?"

"The switch hit thing." Seeing the confusion in his partner's face, Ray just shook his head. "Never mind."

"Ray, I would rather you explain."

"It's just a sex thing."

"Sex thing?"

"You know, one of those terms like switching teams, like straight and gay."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"You mean as in bisexual."

"Exactly."

"However, I still don't get the reference to being a switch hitter. How does violence relate to one's sexuality?"

"It's not about violence. It's about being able to hit the ball from either the right side or the left side of the plate. Get it?"

"I'm afraid not."

Frustrated, Ray tried again. "It's one of those meta things."

"Metaphor?"

"Yeah, that's it, a comparison."

"How so?"

"Well, it's like in baseball a guy who can hit left or right has the advantage because most pitchers usually throw better to either the right or the left, but not both. Guys who can go with women or men, well, they've got the advantage, too."

"Why is that?"

"Because they're more likely to find the right person because there are a lot more people to choose from."

Fraser smiled and nodded. "Understood."

"God, Fraser, is it this much trouble to explain things to me?"

"It's no trouble at all to explain things to you, Ray."

Ray studied his partner's sincere face. "You really mean that?"

"Well, of course, I do. I enjoy our exchanges about our cultural differences."

"You do, huh?"

"Indeed."

"It doesn't get frustrating?"

"Not in the least." Fraser paused. "Does it frustrate you?"

"Sometimes, not so much the explaining to you part, but the part about you having to explain to me. Sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake, but you've probably figured that out by now."

Fraser stroked his arm lovingly. "On the contrary, Ray. I find you to be a very apt pupil, very observant and eager to learn. Sometimes you do get a bit impatient, but that's just your nature. In fact, I find your flexibility and ability to learn so quickly quite endearing."

"You're unhinged, you know that?"

"I don't consider myself unhinged because I admire those qualities that make you the person I love, Ray." Ray let Fraser wrap his right hand in his, the fingers intertwining. "You should probably get some more rest."

"You leaving?"

"Just for a little while. I need to take Lt. Welsh the forms to grant you an extended leave."

"Which I didn't finish filling out."

"I finished them for you."

"Thanks. Did I sign them?"

"Yes. I just needed to fill in some dates, social security number, and other vital statistics."

Ray positioned his head on the pillow to look at Fraser more clearly. "You know my social security number?"

"By heart."

"That's pretty amazing."

"It's just nine digits."

"Yeah, but they're my nine digits. Not many people memorize other people's social security numbers." Ray squeezed Fraser's hand in approval. "I like it. It sounds like a couple thing."

"We are a couple, Ray."

"Yeah, Fraser, I think that's finally sinking in, finally making a dent in the old thick skull here. I'm a little dense sometimes and it takes me a while to get it, but bam, bam, when I do, it hits like a ton of bricks, you know?"

"I think so. Do you mean you're just now realizing that we're together?"

"I knew it, but I didn't know it."

Fraser's brow wrinkled again. "I'm confused, Ray."

"Don't be. We're a couple, you and me, together, partners, a duet for the personal stuff, not just the case stuff. Got it. That's all that matters."

"Absolutely, Ray. We're a duet of the highest order."

"Kowalski and Fraser. I like it. Sounds good."

"I don't mean to argue, Ray, but shouldn't that be Fraser and Kowalski? It's generally accepted that alphabetical order is..."

"Don't start, Fraser."

"Understood."

"You ever think about getting old?"

Fraser looked up from his paper and then folded it before putting it on the side table. "Occasionally. Do you?"

"More than I used to. I mean, I used to think about it more when I was with Stella, and then that crapped out, and I got kind of down about things, not really thinking I'd ever make it to the other side of forty. I guess if I had to be honest, I was kind of depressed, thinking who'd want to get old and wrinkled anyway?"

"And now?"

"Now? Now things are different, they're good, better than good. I've got you and I'm thinking, Kowalski, you lucked out here." Ray turned his head, focusing on Fraser, his partner's face a reassurance that life only got better if you took enough chances. "I love thinking about the two of us getting old together. Weird, huh?"

"Not at all." Fraser leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his face more relaxed than it'd been in days. A smile graced his lips. "How do you see us in the future?"

"Same as now, only better."

Fraser grinned wider and stood up, stretching a little before he came to stand by the hospital bed. He braced himself against the rail, his hand gently petting back Ray's hair, his voice more hushed. "Better in what way?"

Ray drank in the soft touches, the ease at which Fraser stroked his hair, connecting without reservation. He missed that, missed the human contact after Stella left. Now he had Fraser and life meant more than it ever did before. He met Fraser's eyes as he spoke quietly. "I see us living together out in the wilderness, in your father's cabin or another cabin, it doesn't matter. I'm not a cop anymore, but you are. You'll always be a Mountie at heart no matter how old you get. And you get stationed up in the Yukon or the Northwest Territories and you love it and you love me being with you. You go out and do your Mountie thing and me, I stay at the cabin. I chop wood and keep the place going. You teach me all the things I need to know, how to use a dog sled, how to live through the winter, how to do all that survival stuff. And when you're home, we sit and talk, or play poker for air, or take Dief for long walks. We live together, and make love whenever we want to, and it's all good. That's how I see us, that's what I want it to be like when we leave this place."

Fraser's eyes never left his, but they did mist over. He blinked several times and his words choked. "That's how you see our future?"

"Yeah. So what about you? How do you see us in a few years when I'm too old and busted up to be a flatfoot anymore?"

"I can't imagine anything more grand than what you've just shared. It's a lovely dream, Ray."

"It's more than a dream, Frase. It's going to happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I love you. This is it for me. You're what I want." Fraser swallowed hard and then looked away. Ray reached up and touched his chin, bringing him back to face him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that, Fraser. Give. You think I'm lying, that I don't really care enough about you to spend the rest of my life hanging out in the wilderness?"

Fraser took his hand at his face and held it. "It's not that. I know you love me, just like I love you. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"It's difficult for me."

"What is?"

Several long moments passed before Fraser finally answered. "To have such hopes, such dreams. Anytime I've allowed myself to imagine it, the situation ended quite badly."

"So you don't think you're entitled to a little happily ever after?"

"I'm not saying I'm not entitled or that I don't want that, but I'm just..."

"Gun shy?"

"Yes."

Ray nodded and squeezed Fraser's hand. "I get that. Believe me, I get that. I know you get tired of hearing her name, but for the longest time after Stella, I didn't even think there was ever going to be another chance. I'm not blaming her, but God, she busted my balls something awful. I really thought I was the all time loser, the guy anybody with any sense would steer away from. But then you show up and I know you've got sense, more than good sense. You're smart and you're kind and you like me, more than that, you love me. How can that happen if I'm such a lost cause? I figure it can't, because I'm not. Finally, I get it. But, am I gun shy? You bet your ass. And you, you got a double dose of ball bustin', what with Victoria and the Bullshit guy. It's just you can't let that get you so far down that you can't hope anymore, Frase. You just can't. You understand that?"

"I need your patience, Ray. It's still very difficult."

Ray tilted his head and then cupped Fraser's cheek, stroking the firm jaw line with his thumb. "You've been patient with me. I figure it's the least I can do for you. Just tell me what you need, what you're thinking. Don't pull the stiff upper lip Mountie thing or I'll have to kick the truth out of you. Got that?"

"Got it." Fraser leaned in a little closer. "A little tip then, Ray."

"What's that?"

"I think I would prefer you kiss the truth out of me rather than the other option."

Ray smiled and hooked the back of Fraser's neck, pulling him forward. Fraser's mouth latched onto his, their tongues wrestling, Ray's cock waking up and taking notice. The kiss deepened, but then Fraser pulled back. "We should stop."

"We're just getting started."

"Ray, you're still on a heart monitor."

"You're good, Fraser, but I doubt I'm going to have heart attack from necking."

Fraser chuckled and did that cute little pink blush thing. "We just need to be careful until you're released." Fraser used his index finger to hush Ray's protest. "Believe me, as soon as we get home, if the doctor says it's not a risk, we'll kiss all you want."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"You think we might do more than kiss?"

Fraser didn't look away this time, his face dead serious. "What we do is entirely up to you, Ray. Whatever you want, that's what we'll do."

The husky voice thrilled him, made his cock twitch and his toes actually curl. Even so, Ray couldn't help teasing. "What if I want to do it from the chandeliers?"

"You don't have a chandelier, Ray."

"But if I did, would you do it?"

A grin tugged at the edges of his mouth as Fraser caught on to the game. "I certainly would give it my best effort."

"What if I wanted you to talk dirty, could you do that?"

"Talk dirty?"

"Yeah, you know, use words like fuck and dick and suck me, words like that."

Fraser gulped a little. "I suppose I could try."

Ray got more serious. "But it would bother you, right?"

"I'm not sure. It would depend on the situation."

"So you're at least not ruling it out completely."

"No, I wouldn't rule it out completely. If I may ask, is it something you really enjoy, this talking dirty?"

Ray figured Fraser would sniff out the truth soon enough anyway, so he might as well come clean, so to speak. "Actually, yeah. I mean, I don't want to be called names, but I do like hearing what someone's going to do to me and I like telling the other person what I like and what I want to do to that other person." Ray took another deep breath. "And I guess I should warn you, I do like some kinky stuff."

"Kinky stuff?"

"Well, not like what you did with Bullweather, but I do like to watch."

"You're a voyeur then?"

"I guess. Stella always called me a perv because I loved watching her get off. I could come just by watching her do herself, finger, vibrator, dildo, it didn't matter." Fraser turned bright red. "Sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass you. I just think we have to be honest about what turns the old crank."

"No, no, I'm glad you're frank about your erotic appetites. If we're going to be partners, it's important that we discuss these things openly."

Ray took Fraser's hand in his and squeezed gently. "So, what turns your crank, Frase? What turns you on like nobody's business?"

Ray saw the flicker, the momentary hesitation before Fraser dared to say it out loud. "You, Ray. You turn me on like nobody's business."

"That hard to say?"

"No, but I must admit it's more difficult to confess than I expected." Fraser bit his lower lip and then sighed. "Almost from the first time I saw you, I dreamed about you."

Ray pulled back slightly, but never released Fraser's hand. "Dreamed about me? Do you mean dream dream or like you dreamed one of those sexy dreams?"

"Both actually. You occupied my thoughts both consciously and unconsciously to the exclusion of almost anything else. The first time I had an erotic dream about you, well, the result was very troublesome."

"Troublesome?"

"I had to get up and do unscheduled laundry before Turnbull got to work."

Ray laughed as awareness dawned. "You had a wet dream about me? Way to go, Frase."

"It wasn't amusing at the time, Ray. I was uncertain about how to deal with my almost obsessive fascination. I had no idea that the attraction was in any way mutual."

"You could've asked."

Fraser met his eyes, his voice softer. "And what would you have said in the beginning, Ray? Would you really have been open to a relationship with a male partner when it was obvious that you still had unresolved issues with your ex-wife? I mean, dear God, Ray, you were stalking her at one point only a few months ago."

"I was not stalking."

"Perhaps not, but it was a very fine line that made me very uncomfortable."

Ray frowned, the memory of his jealous behavior still too difficult to think about. "You're right. I probably wouldn't have been open to it. Might have even freaked me out a little." He shook his head. "God, how did you stand it, keeping that in all this time?"

"One learns a modicum of discipline in the service, Ray. Still, I must admit there were times when I wanted to slam you against the wall and kiss you so hard that you would never again utter the name Stella with the same intonation of longing you so often use."

"Intonation of longing? I do that?"

"Yes, Ray, you do. Quite often. Or at least you used to."

"And now?"

"Now I love the way you say Fraser."

Ray chuckled. "Fraser. It's a good name, a very sexy name." He ran a finger along Fraser's lower lip, his voice a lot deeper. "Is that the name you want me to keep using? You don't want me to call you Ben or Benton or Mr. Mountie?"

Fraser sucked in the finger tip briefly, his teeth just barely nipping the skin. His eyes met Ray's and then released the finger reluctantly. "In my dreams you call me Fraser."

"Then Fraser it is."

Dr. Barnes stood by the bedside, his face serious as he studied the chart. He looked up and met Ray's anxious eyes. "How are we feeling today, Ray?"

"I don't know about you, Doc, but I'm ready to get the hell out."

Barnes chuckled. "Good, because I'm inclined to let you go. I've gotten all the reports in on your heart and it's all good news. Apparently the arrhythmia you experienced was a result of number of possibilities. Whatever the reason, your heart seems fine now."

"Awhatsmia?"

"Arrhythmia, or irregular heartbeat. The point is, we think your heart is good and that's great news."

"That mean I can have real coffee?"

"I don't see why not."

"Chocolate?"

"Yes, but I'd rather see you eat a lot more than chocolate. I've told you before that you need to work on a more balanced diet. You've lost ten pounds over the last three weeks, ten pounds you cannot afford to lose. One-forty just isn't a good weight, not with your height. So, when I do send you home, I expect you to try harder to eat properly."

Not happy with the lecture, but not in the mood to argue, Ray just nodded. "Sure, sure, whatever. When do I hit the streets?"

"Not quite yet. I'm going to hang another bag of antibiotics and then do some more blood work. That'll let me know whether you can go home this afternoon or if you need to stay a little while longer."

"I vote for this afternoon."

"We'll see. If that is the case, then I'll give you the new oral antibiotics to take with you."

Ray nodded, his right arm crossed over his belly, his head more clear than it had been in days. "So any idea about why I keep getting this high fever thing?"

Barnes closed the file and frowned. "That's a good question. Wish I had a better answer. I've tried three different antibiotics, the latest being the most effective." Barnes hesitated and wet his lower lip, his voice suddenly more strained. "You have to understand, Ray. When you first came in here a few weeks ago, you were in shock from being brutally attacked and beaten. You had to have transfusions for the blood loss. In addition, your wounds were filthy not only from whatever dirt was on that knife, but blood from your attacker. I would've been surprised if you didn't get an infection. Problem is, sometimes it's trial and error to find the right antibiotic. Also, severe trauma like that sometimes makes it really difficult for your immune system to do its best work. You're just lucky that the infection is responsive to the medicine and your immune system seems to be kicking back in. If not, well, let's just say you could be in a lot worse shape than you are."

"I could be dead."

Barnes didn't meet his eyes. "We don't like to think in those terms if we can help it, Ray."

"But it's the truth. I mean, I'm a cop. I always thought I'd get taken down by a bullet, not something I can't even see."

Barnes shrugged and then put on another smile. "Look, you're better and getting stronger. I'll tell the nurse to hang another bag of antibiotics and schedule the blood test." Barnes motioned at his new cast. "Looks a lot better."

"Feels better."

"I'll bet. So, where's your friend, Constable Fraser?"

"Sent him out to get magazines. True confessions, he's kind of a worry wart."

Barnes laughed. "I kind of picked up on that."

"Not much chance of hiding it."

"Still, he seems like a good friend. I take it he's going to be around to help you through your convalescence?"

"Yeah, he's my partner." Ray waited, not sure what kind of response he'd get, happy to see it didn't seem to matter much to Barnes one way or the other.

"He's a good man."

"Yeah, he is. Just makes a me a little crazy when he turns mother hen, or mother goose, or whatever that translates to in Canadian."

Barnes grinned at the joke and then took a deep breath. "Okay, that's about it for me, except to say that when you go home, I want you to keep using the antibiotic cream on the shoulder and thigh lacerations. The seepage has stopped, but I'd still like you to keep the bandages on for a few more days. Any questions?"

"When will I know about getting to go home?"

Looking down at his watch, he shrugged. "I'd say by two at the latest. If it works out, then I'll want you back in a few days to get more blood work. I want to keep a closer watch this time so we don't have any repeat performances of this last ambulance ride."

Ray shook his head, his arms still crossed and his back a little straighter. "That might be a problem."

Barnes met his eyes. "Problem?"

"We're leaving for Canada the day after tomorrow. We got tickets."

"Tickets? To Canada?"

"Yeah?"

"You're kidding."

"We're going to go for a couple of weeks' vacation."

Barnes did not look happy. "Ray, that's not a good idea."

"Why not? They don't have doctors in Canada? I'll take my pills and be a good boy, just like the doctor ordered. You don't have to worry. It's not like I'm going to go skiing or bobsledding or anything like that." Ray looked down, avoiding the tough stare. "I just want to get away for a while, that's all."

"Where in Canada, Toronto, Montreal, some place with good medical facilities?"

"A little place called Yellowknife, but Fraser says they've got a hospital if I need it."

Stunned, Barnes shook his head in disbelief. "And Constable Fraser thinks this is a good idea?"

"Does Constable Fraser think what is a good idea?" Fraser stood in the doorway holding a bag of magazines and a cup of decaf.

Ray closed his eyes, dreading the rest of the conversation. "It's nothing, Fraser."

"I don't think so, Ray." Barnes turned his attention to Fraser. "How firm are your plans for traveling?"

"They can be changed if they need to be."

"I think they need to be. Ray doesn't seem to understand the seriousness of his medical situation, but I was under the impression that you had better sense."

"Hold up, Doc. You saying I don't have good sense?"

Barnes turned back to Ray. "If you think it's wise to go traipsing off to one of the coldest cities in Canada in the middle of winter when you should be resting, yes, that's putting it mildly. In a week or so, then I'd clear you for travel, maybe. Before then, it's really too risky."

"Then we won't go."

"Fraser, we're going. We got tickets."

"Ray, tickets can be easily exchanged and rescheduled. I won't endanger your health, not when we can go another time."

"I don't want to go another time. I want to go like we planned, when we planned."

"Ray, you're just being silly."

"Silly? You think I'm being silly because I want you to do what you promised?"

"I didn't promise to put you in jeopardy."

Barnes stood between them, his head moving back and forth as the two men exchanged increasingly heated words. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps, I should let you two discuss this alone. I'll tell the nurse to hang the new bag and check back this afternoon after the labs."

Fraser put the magazines and coffee on the table. He tipped his hat and then removed it. "Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your frankness."

"Anytime, Constable. Later, Ray."

Still fuming, Ray didn't bother to say goodbye or even fuck you. As soon as Barnes left the room, he snapped. "This doesn't change anything. I feel fine. I'm good to go and I'm going."

"Without me? I don't think that would be a very interesting trip, Ray."

Ray closed his eyes, his head back and his right fist against his forehead. "God, you make me crazy. Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?"

"I think this is where one might say kettle to pot, Ray."

"Oh, so now I'm not only silly but stubborn?"

"I think we're well matched in that department." Ray kept his mouth shut, but turned his head away from Fraser, who stepped to the side of the bed. "I know you're disappointed, as am I. Still, we can go next week, or the week after. It's not like he forbade you to go."

"Like he could."

"I'm just saying, we have to be reasonable."

"Fuck reasonable."

"Ray..."

"Look, Fraser, I know I'm acting like a big baby, but it's like every time I turn around, I got people busting my ass and telling me what I have to do and what I can't do, like I'm some addle-brained kid. I hate that."

"As anyone would."

Sighing heavily, Ray opened his bloodshot eyes and then rolled back over so he could look at Fraser. "You know what this means, right?"

"What?"

"We won't get to spend as much time alone in your friend's cabin."

Fraser smiled. "Ray, cabin, apartment, what difference does it make as long as we're together and you're getting better? Sure, it would be wonderful to deny the reality of the situation and head North, but how much is that fantasy worth? Your life? I simply can't risk that. I won't."

Ray held up a hand in surrender. "Okay, okay. I give up. Just promise me we'll go sometime."

"Promise."

"Cross your heart?"

"Cross my heart, Ray."

"It's so good to be home, I feel like screaming for joy."

Fraser frowned as he put the page of home instructions and the bag of new prescriptions on the table. "Why would you want to scream if you're happy?"

"It's just an expression."

"Ah."

"Jeez. If I had a nickel for every one of your ahs, I'd be loaded." Ray dropped to the sofa and smiled while Dief enthusiastically slobbered all over his ear. He ruffled his friend's fur and laughed for the first time in ages. "Good to see you, too, buddy, old pal. You and Turtle been getting along okay without me?"

Dief suddenly stopped licking and then jumped off the couch to move behind Fraser and then hunkered under the table. Looking around, Ray saw that Turtle's tank no longer occupied its usual spot by the window. "Okay, what's up? Where's Turtle?"

Fraser cleared his throat and looked more and more distressed. Ray shook his head. "Don't even say it. Don't even say it. Just tell me he's okay, just tell me that, Fraser. Tell me that nothing's happened to Turtle."

"Well, actually..."

"Actually what?"

"There was an accident."

"Accident? What kind of accident?"

"I assure you that Diefenbaker meant no harm."

Ray leaned forward, his head in his hands. "Oh, God, Fraser, just tell me. What happened?"

"Turtle fell out the window."

Ray lifted his head, not sure he'd heard correctly. "Fell? Out the window?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

"Fraser, I live on the third floor."

"Yes, I know, Ray. Luckily, Turtle seems to have a very sturdy shell. At first he seemed stunned and unresponsive, but he is still alive and there's every hope for a complete recovery. However, the vet wanted to keep him for observation as a precautionary measure. I fully intend to pay for any and all expenses for his care and for replacing his tank, which, I'm afraid, also fell out the window."

"Jesus, Fraser, three floors."

"I know, Ray. Diefenbaker is mortified that something might have happened to Turtle because of his clumsiness and lack of forethought."

"What the hell did he do?"

"Well, to be honest, Diefenbaker, doesn't really understand basic physics concerning displacement. I mean he is a wolf, after all. One can't really expect him to comprehend such simple scientific concepts that we take for granted."

"I'm not following."

"He thought he could fit in the tank with Turtle."

"Oh, my God."

"He was just very lucky that he didn't go tumbling out the window as well."

Ray shook his head and then fell back against the sofa. "I don't fucking believe this. Dumb wolf. Why'd he want to get in the tank anyway?"

"He wanted to play."

"Play?"

"Play."

"With a turtle?"

Fraser stepped closer and sat down beside Ray. "I have to assume full responsibility, Ray. I should have taken Diefenbaker back to the Consulate or the station during my absence. He forgets he's a wolf and sometimes gets lonely. He considers Turtle to be a friend. He was quite devastated to see the result of his shortsighted behavior."

Ray nodded, a little more calm. "Yeah, well, Turtle grows on ya. You can't help but love the little guy. So, you're sure he's okay?"

"He should be fine. I'm sure he's more shocked than anything else. He's not used to bouncing."

Ray took a deep breath and turned his head to look over at the nervous wolf still under the table. "Come here, Dief. I'm not mad. You didn't mean it." Dief got up and pushed his wet nose gratefully into Ray's extended hand. "Good boy. No more Turtle tank hopping, though, unless we get a much bigger tank, okay?"

Dief woofed and licked Ray's hand one more time before jumping up into the chair beside the sofa. Ray turned his attention back to Fraser. "So, when did this happen?"

"Yesterday morning."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You had enough to worry about." Fraser avoided his eyes. "And I wanted to make sure he would survive first."

"And if he'd died?"

Fraser met his eyes. "I would have told you, but I was hoping that wouldn't happen."

"So you gambled, betting on Turtle pulling through so you wouldn't see me lose it for nothing."

"I wouldn't say gambled. I was just being prudent."

"You took a chance."

"I merely used caution in delaying the information."

"You played the odds, Fraser, admit it. You waited to tell me because you thought I'd crack if I lost a pet I've had longer than I had Stella."

Swallowing hard, Fraser surrendered. "I'm sorry, Ray. I just didn't want to have to tell you such bad news unless I absolutely had to. You've had enough to deal with lately. Plus, I must confess to feeling responsible since I left Diefenbaker unattended for so long."

"Only because you were spending night and day taking care of me."

"True, but..."

"No buts. It's not your fault. I just wish you'd told me. I don't need to be coddled. I'm not a head case."

"Of course, you're not. I'm sorry."

Ray raised his hand in a stop motion. "Enough. It's not your fault. It's over. We'll get a new tank and bring Turtle home and it'll all be good. It's getting colder. I should probably move the tank away from the window anyway."

"Move it where?"

"Over by the stereo. He likes music."

"Turtle likes music?"

Ray glanced over and smiled at Fraser's rather dubious expression. "Yeah, Fraser. He doesn't dance, cause let's face it, turtles just don't have the right equipment to get a good rhythm going, not with those short, little legs. But, yeah, he likes music, jazz, blues, rock. He likes everything I like."

"He's a good pet then."

"And loyal, too. I've had him since I was a kid. Got him after I lost my dog when it got run over."

Fraser tilted his head and studied him, his eyes deep and thoughtful. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah. I couldn't get another dog, not after having to have the other one put down, just couldn't hack it. So, I figured, what's the best pet to get, something that's hardy and lasts a long time, but doesn't take a lot of work? I went to this neighborhood pet store and saw this little turtle and I thought, bam, that's it, a turtle. Perfect." Ray held up his long fingers and measured out four inches between his thumb and forefinger. "He was only this big when I got him. He's grown since then. I mean, I know it seems silly. He's just a turtle, but you get attached."

"I understand completely. The bond between a person and his pet is very special."

Ray sighed, his voice a bit more dreamy. "You know, back before, when Stella worked late most of the time or I was doing undercover, all I had was Turtle to talk to."

"Just like I talk to Diefenbaker."

"But Turtle doesn't talk back."

"Perhaps you just haven't learned to speak turtle."

Ray laughed and shook his head. "That'll be the day. Ray Kowalski, the man who speaks fluent turtle. I could make a fortune."

"Doing what? Translating for turtles?"

"No, going on talk shows."

"Talking turtle?"

Sitting up straighter, Ray turned his full attention on Fraser. "I think this is the nuttiest conversation we've had yet and that's saying something."

Fraser's voice softened into husky. "What would you rather discuss?"

"How about us?"

"What about us?"

"Everything about us." Ray reached out and cupped Fraser's face, drawing him closer as he rested his forehead against his partner's. "You scared?"

"A little."

"Yeah, me, too." Ray pulled back, grateful he no longer had to work around the awkward cast that kept Fraser so far away before. He drew him closer and captured his lips. The kiss deepened, tongues slick and hot, Fraser's moan a turn on. Ray pulled back. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Ray."

"You know, if my body wasn't so fucked up, I'd take you to bed right now."

"And I'd let you."

"Still, it's nice to have something to look forward to." Ray smiled as he traced a teasing finger down Fraser's face, along his cheek, his blue eyes sparkling.

"I must admit the thrill of anticipation does add a certain unexpected titillation to the possibility."

"It's not a matter of possibility, Fraser. It's going to happen. I'm just not sure when I'll be up to it."

Fraser nodded, returning Ray's caresses, his breathing a bit quicker. "I look forward to it."

"I can see that."

Once again, Fraser blushed and looked away, unable to keep eye contact. Ray chuckled and pulled Fraser's head back up to face him. "I always pegged you for being bashful, but this is ridiculous. It's kind of refreshing, though. You always been so blushy?"

"It's been the bane of my existence since an early age."

"How come?"

Fraser pulled back and studied him, his face suddenly more sad. "I've always been pale."

"So? Not much sun up north."

"Actually, sometimes there's a lot of sun far north. I tend to burn, but that's not what I meant."

Ray rested back against the sofa and pulled Fraser closer. He sighed and snuggled, bracing his face on his partner's chest, Fraser's strong arms wrapped around him. "Spill. Tell me about this blush thing. You get embarrassed a lot? Kids make fun?"

"Are you sure you want to hear all this?"

"I want to know all about you, Fraser. You know about the bank and what kind of messed up kid I was afterwards. Tell me about you. What was it like growing up? I know you told me it was lonely and you told me about Innusiq. What else? What didn't you tell me?"

Fraser's voice took on a different quality, low but very clear. "It was difficult for me as a child."

"Why?"

"I was white and most of the other children weren't. I didn't come from the same culture, get the same lessons. My grandparents, while being very good about providing for my physical needs, were, in the strictest sense, very emotionally remote and professed rationalism to the extreme. They did their best, but for the most part I felt isolated and terribly alone. My mother's death and my father's absence affected me far more deeply than I ever would admit."

Ray blinked several times, surprised at the sting of tears at his friend's poignant confession. "I'm really glad you at least had Innusiq as a friend."

"Yes, but that wasn't until I was older. Before that, well, as I said, it was difficult. We traveled a lot, taking the library from village to village, town to town. We might settle for six months at a time, but that was unusual. The few times I did go to the local schools, it tended to be disastrous."

"Disastrous how?"

"I never fit in. I either knew too much or not enough."

"I can't imagine you not knowing enough."

"I'm not talking about information, Ray. I'm talking about social expectations. My inexperience often led to misunderstanding and negative peer reactions. The blushing only intensified my humiliation at being excluded from most of the social interactions with my peers who found me far too odd to include in their games and friendships."

"They blackballed you, huh?"

"Being shunned is a very effective socialization tool, but it's very unpleasant."

"And this was all because you were white?"

"Not entirely, but partly, yes. It wasn't all one-sided. My grandparents, while respecting the ways of the aboriginal peoples, made it clear to me that we were to be separate from them. I don't agree, of course, but that made little difference at the time."

"So, what did they think about you hanging around with Innusiq?"

Fraser didn't answer right away, but squeezed Ray a little more tightly. When he finally spoke, his voice choked the words. "They didn't know about Innusiq. To them, he was simply a local boy with whom I went to school."

"And what about him? Did he pretend to his folks that you were just some other kid, too?"

"No. He didn't. He was always very upfront with his people. I was his best friend and he made that very clear." Fraser sighed. "He knew of my deception, of course. He didn't challenge me about it until we'd been together almost six months. He wanted to know if I was ashamed of him."

Ray took Fraser's hand, holding it, waiting for Fraser's faster breathing to level out. "I tried to explain that I wasn't ashamed of him, that my shame was for myself."

"I don't get it."

"My grandparents were very old-fashioned. They never talked about sex openly, but it was clear that they never approved of same gender pairings or mixed couples. They tried to be fair, but their disapproval came through loud and clear whenever they talked about certain people in the villages where we traveled. I was ashamed of myself, Ray. I wasn't brave enough to admit to my grandparents that I thought I was gay and that I had an Inuit partner. They would never understand. I couldn't risk losing their approval, not even for Innusiq."

"What did Innusiq say?"

"He was very good about it. He said he understood and that I must choose my own path."

"Sounds very, I don't know, enlightened for a kid."

"It was, but he wasn't like most kids. He didn't really care about my being different."

"Because he was different, too."

Fraser rested his head on the top of Ray's and his voice got even softer. "Perhaps that was part of it, yes."

"What's the other part then?"

"He was just a better person than I was. He still is."

Ray sat up, frustrated and staring at Fraser before shaking his head. "I swear, you've got no clue."

"About what?"

"About how good you really are."

Fraser smiled weakly and pulled Ray back down against his chest, soothing his hair, petting him into being quiet again. Ray didn't resist but settled back into place, his quick annoyance gone just as fast as it flared up. "I try to do the right thing, Ray, but deep down, I know that hasn't always been the case."

"So what? You were a kid. You can't keep beating yourself up about all that. That'd be like me making myself crazy about the whole pissing in my pants thing. It happened. It's over, done, finished. Let it go."

"Understood, but it took a lot of years for you to realize that, Ray. You admitted that it changed your whole life. The same can be said for me. My reason tells me to do as you say, let it go. My emotional self is far more stubborn about such things."

Ray sighed heavily, his eyes closed, wishing he could make it all better. "Anything I can do?"

"Love me and be patient."

Snorting, Ray cuddled in close, his eyes still squeezed shut, his body begging to drift off to sleep. "Easy, no problem, already done." He patted Fraser's arm still wrapped around him and let himself float in the comfort of his best friend's embrace.

Ray woke to the enticing smell of fresh coffee. He rolled onto his back and found himself still on the couch, facing the kitchen, a wool blanket over him and a pillow behind his head. He stretched and took a deep breath. "Fraser?"

"Right here, Ray." Fraser stepped from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel, and then slinging it over his shoulder. "You were tired."

"Tell me about it. I don't even remember falling asleep." He adjusted his cast in the sling and then winced with the unexpected pain in his right shoulder. The wound often caught him off guard, but he gritted his teeth and just took it, working to keep his face neutral after the initial reminder of his lingering injury.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure. Moved the wrong way." Ray held out his good arm. "Give me a hand up."

Fraser extended his right arm, which Ray used to pull himself to a sitting position. He waited for the lightheadedness to slack off and then relaxed against the back of the couch. "Wouldn't say no to some coffee."

"With or without chocolate?"

"With." Ray scanned the room as Fraser went to fetch the drink. He frowned at the lighting. "What the hell time is it?"

"After nine."

"Nine at night? Jesus, Fraser. Why'd you let me sleep so late?"

Fraser handed him the mug. "You needed it. Plus, there was no reason not to. We're both on leave and have no pressing engagements."

Ray sniffed the delicious aroma of the coffee and let his irritation drift away. "Yeah, well, if I can't sleep tonight, it's your fault."

"Granted."

Taking several sips, Ray smiled. "God, this is good. You make a hell of a great cup of coffee, Fraser."

"Thank you kindly, Ray." Fraser stepped to the table and motioned for Ray to join him. "I took the liberty of fixing something light for supper. I didn't know how hungry you'd be, but you do need to eat something before retiring."

"Retiring? I just got up."

"True, but after the meal, I thought you might shower and I could assist you in shaving and changing your bandages."

"And you figure all that'll wear me out, huh?"

"It's been my experience that during an extended recovery one often needs a lot more rest than expected." Once again, Fraser motioned to one of the chairs at the table. "Please, Ray, join me."

Reluctantly, Ray got up and moved to the table, not hungry, but not wanting to disappoint his partner. From the fancy table settings with placemats and napkins, he could tell Fraser took the time to make it all look extra nice. "So, what's for chow?"

"Something simple, soup and sandwiches."

"What kind of soup and sandwiches?"

"I made some potato soup and bought some ham from your favorite deli around the corner. I also bought rye bread and a variety of condiments along with some Swiss cheese. As you once said, Ray, a ham sandwich without Swiss cheese is just a plain ham sandwich and not worth eating. Then for dessert, there's something called pineapple upside down cake. Your landlady, Mrs. Walenski, called it a homecoming present. She certainly knows your preference for all things pineapple and she sends her best wishes for a speedy recovery."

Just the thought of all that food made Ray queasy. "She didn't have to do that, make me a cake and everything."

"She wanted to, Ray. As I've mentioned before, she's very fond of you."

Fraser stepped to the stove and served the soup, bringing Ray's bowl to the table first and then his own. He then brought in the plate of ham and the makings for the sandwiches. "Would you like me to make yours, Ray?"

"Thanks, but I can do it." The creamy soup smelled good, like what his mom made, full of extra butter and onions, and Ray swallowed hard as he put his spoon down. "I haven't had potato soup in a long time. Where'd you get the recipe?"

"You had it in one of your cook books over the stove. It was handwritten, so I assumed it was one of your favorites." Fraser stopped eating and studied Ray closely. "What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

"I love it. I just can't eat it."

"I don't understand."

"My mom used to make it, made it just like this. It's her recipe. We usually only had it on special occasions, like after Dad and I got into it and made up."

Understanding dawned. "I'm sorry, Ray. I can fix you something else."

Ray held up a hand. "No, that's okay. I'm not really hungry."

"At least eat a sandwich."

"Save it for later. I'll eat a piece of cake and take some more coffee though."

Ray avoided Fraser's concerned look, and got up for his own drink. Standing by the counter, he spoke quietly. "I remember the last time she fixed soup like that."

Fraser moved beside him, his body close. He kept his hands to himself, just waiting. "When was that, Ray?"

"It was right before I graduated from the academy. I thought it was finished, you know, the constant crap about me throwing my life away, just wasting my time doing something worse than butchering meat in some slaughterhouse. I thought Dad accepted that I wanted to be a cop. I figured he'd see me graduate with honors and then he'd be okay with it. It was just a few days after that last meal that he left for Arizona. It was eight years of no father after that."

"And now he's left again."

"Yeah." Ray sighed deeply, his head down. "I'm sorry about the soup, Fraser. It smelled good, no kidding, better than Mom's even. Just save it. Maybe I can eat it tomorrow or something. It just caught me off guard, that's all."

A hand rubbed his back gently as Fraser moved in, his voice a whisper. "Don't worry about the soup, Ray. I can fix something else. Anything you want." Fraser took him in his arms and drew him closer, Ray's forehead on his partner's shoulder. "I don't want to be disrespectful, but your father is very foolish, Ray. I don't say that lightly, but any man who would disown his own son for wanting to be honorable, well, he's just foolish. There's no other word for it."

Ray lifted his head, his throat raw, his eyes misty. "Honorable?"

"Yes, honorable. You're a great police officer, Ray. How could any man not respect that? How could becoming an officer of the law not be worthy of both pride and love? Then he compounds his emotional blackmail by wanting you to be dishonest about who you are, to pretend to be something you're not. I'm sorry, but it's just wrong." Fraser cupped his face, his words choked. "I hate that he's hurt you so deeply. It's so very unkind and unfair."

"He's my father, Fraser. I love him, but I hate him, too, sometimes."

"I understand completely."

Ray dropped his head again and then smiled weakly. "All this because of potato soup. Go figure."

Fraser kissed the top of his head. "Please, eat a sandwich, Ray. I worry."

"Okay, but cake first."

"If you insist. Sit back down and I'll bring it to you."

"I can get it myself."

Fraser turned and met his eyes, his voice deeper and more husky. "I like serving you, Ray. Now, sit. Let me enjoy this."

Smiling, Ray shrugged in surrender, the twitch in his cock from Fraser's sexy confession a bit of a surprise. Nobody had ever wanted to take care of him like Fraser. He'd always been the one who took care of Stella, bringing her breakfast in bed, buying her little presents, trying to make things special between them. Now here was Fraser doing that for him. He liked it, but it took a little time to get used to.

Ray sat down as the cake appeared before him. He lifted his fork, tasting the rich combination of caramel and pineapple with some of the best cake he'd ever tasted. "God, this is great." He got another bite on his fork and lifted it towards Fraser. "Here, try some."

Hesitating just a second, Fraser leaned in and took the cake from Ray's fork into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he chewed and then nodded. "Excellent."

"Best ever. Ought to win a blue ribbon or something." Without waiting for more talk, Ray dug in and finished the serving in just a few more bites. He held up the plate. "More."

"Ray, you should at least have a sandwich first."

The sweet taste of the cake triggered his hunger and Ray agreed, "Okay, but I'm having another piece for dessert afterwards."

"Certainly. There's plenty."

"Good." Ray reached out and grabbed the bread. Then he piled on some ham slices along with the cheese before adding mustard. Trying to pick up his creation proved to be awkward.

"Allow me, Ray." Fraser came to the rescue and cut the sandwich in half so Ray could handle it more easily.

"Thanks, Frase."

Ray ate a few bites, trying to avoid noticing the watchful eyes of his partner. After a while, he shook his head. "Stop it."

"Stop what, Ray?"

"Stop watching me like I'm going to crack any minute. I'm fine. That whole soup thing, it's over."

"I don't mean to make you uneasy. It's just, well, quite frankly, I'm not sure what to do."

"About what?"

Fraser shifted in his seat, his nervousness translating to that funny stuff he did, licking that lower lip and then rubbing his eyebrow. "I'm not used to living with someone other than Diefenbaker. And, besides, I like looking at you."

Ray chuckled to himself and put his sandwich down. "I like looking at you, too, Fraser, but there's looking and then there's looking."

"How so?"

"Well, there's giving me the eye, letting me know you'd like me to take you to bed any time, any place, and then there's watching me like I'm going to fall apart if you blink. I like the first one a lot better than the second, and that's what I'm getting right now, that whole, is he going to wig out any minute look. I can live without it."

"I see. You think my concern is unwarranted?"

"At the moment, yeah."

"At the moment?"

"Yes, Fraser, at the moment. I can't promise I won't freak out and act crazy sometime in the future. We both know that it'd be a stupid promise anyway. I'm just not going to do it right at the moment. What I would like to do is finish my sandwich and then have some more cake. Okay?"

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Ray. That wasn't my intention at all."

"I know that." Ray picked up his sandwich, studied the edges around his bite, and then put it back on the plate. "I love that you care so much, Fraser, I do. I'm just not used to it."

"I can be a bit much."

Ray laughed to himself and then glanced over at Fraser. "I just said it wasn't you, okay? It's me. I just have to get used to having someone care enough about me to keep looking and fixing me homemade soup and worrying about whether or not I eat enough. It's just a lot to get used to after the way it's been for so long. It's not you, Frase. It's me."

"Perhaps it's a bit of both, Ray."

"Could be. I won't fight about it." He held out his cake plate. "The ham's good, but I really want cake."

"Then cake it is."

"No argument about nutrition and eating right first?"

"You're a grown man, Ray. If you want to eat cake, then you can eat cake." Fraser pushed his own sandwich and soup bowl away. "In fact, I think I'll join you."

"You rebel you."

Fraser leaned closer, his lips thinned to a mischievous grin. "You've got no idea how rebellious I can be, Ray."

Ray touched his face. "My own MOUNTIE WITHOUT A CAUSE. I like it."

"Ah, a James Dean reference."

Laughing, Ray smiled broadly. "You know about James Dean?"

"James Dean was a very popular movie icon for Innusiq and me."

"You two ever play James Dean meets the sheriff?"

Fraser's blush came with a whispered, "I believe it was more like the rebel meets the Mountie."

"I'll bet it was. You always play the Mountie?"

"Every chance I got." Fraser turned and met his eyes. "And feel free to interpret that any way you want, Ray."

The amused chuckle at his shocked expression made Ray tingle all over.

Ray sat on the bed shirtless. He held out his arm and studied it impatiently as Fraser put the finishing touches on the white plastic garbage bag wrapping his cast. "You done yet?"

"Just a bit more." Fraser checked the rubber band holding the bag in place just above the elbow, nodded in satisfaction, and then stood straight. "I think that should be sufficient."

"I should hope so. I could probably go into outer space with this thing."

"Ray, it's important to protect the cast."

"I get that, Fraser, but it's a pain. I hope it's not going to take as long to get off as it was to get on."

Instead of answering, Fraser picked up latex gloves and slipped them on as he moved to stand behind Ray. "I need to take off the bandages. You ready?"

Ray nodded, knowing full well that it still hurt to go near his shoulder and thigh wounds. "It's okay. Go ahead."

Carefully, Fraser peeled away the edges of the wide bandage, taking care to pull the damaged skin as little as possible. He dropped the used dressing into the small plastic tub on the bed and studied the wound. "It looks a little less inflamed and there's no seepage."

"Good to know. Guess that's progress."

Ray swallowed hard. Then he stood up and slipped off the sweatpants. He sat back down in his boxers, his legs spread. The longest and deepest gash hid behind the bandage that ran a few inches down from his crotch almost to his left knee. Still frowning, Fraser kneeled and eased off the padded gauze, exposing the jagged laceration. Both men remained silent as Fraser used his gloved fingers to check all around the edges of the puckered wound.

Ray cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice light, but failing miserably. "Looks like it's going to be a hell of a scar."

Fraser didn't look up. "I think Dr. Barnes is right, Ray. You're going to need plastic surgery, especially for this one. The scarring is too extensive to leave it like this."

"You think it's worth the trouble?"

Standing up, Fraser met his eyes and nodded. "Scar tissue isn't as strong as regular tissue, Ray. If you leave it like that, it could cause you problems later on."

"The same with the shoulder, too, huh?"

"I'm afraid so, yes."

Closing his eyes, Ray sighed. "I don't want to think about that right now. I've had about all the hospital shit I can stand for a while."

"Right now all you have to do is get a shower. When you're finished, you can shave, or, if you'd like, I can shave you. It's up to you."

Ray rubbed his fuzzy beard and smiled. "Had enough of the Grizzly Adams, huh?"

"One or two days growth is fine, Ray, but a week is taking the unkempt look a bit far."

Ray feigned insult. "I had an excuse. Besides, those electric shavers suck. They don't half work, either. Oughta get a refund."

"Which is why I'm offering my services, Ray. I don't like to sing my own praises, but I did manage to do a rather competent job filling in for Sam McGowan, the barber back home, when his wife Emily had their first child."

"You cut hair?"

"Well, the hair styling demands in the Yukon are a bit different from here in Chicago, Ray, but I did offer a variety of cuts to the gentlemen in town as well as a shave on request."

Ray ran a worried hand through his dirty hair and shook his head. "No offense, Frase, but I'm going to stick to Lila for the hair. Speaking of which, I should probably get an appointment to have something done with this mess before we leave."

"Will you be coloring it, too?"

Grinning, Ray met his partner's hungry eyes. "I might. You seem to be partial to the lighter shades."

"I like your hair any way you want to fix it." Teasing his fingers through Ray's hair, Fraser's voice became dreamy. "It's so soft. I never really expected it to be so soft." His hand dropped to Ray's whiskers. "Your beard, too. I never felt a soft beard before."

"You like that, huh?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then maybe I should leave it, not shave at all."

Fraser snapped out of his musings and shook his head. "I like the hair, Ray, but the beard really needs to go."

Teasing, Ray ran his hand under his chin, playing with his beard. "You really don't like it?"

"I like your face better."

The simple statement took Ray by surprise. "My face?"

"Your beautiful face." Using both hands, Fraser cupped his cheeks and then kissed him briefly. "Now, shower."

Ray hooked the back of Fraser's neck and drew him closer. "Another kiss first." Lips met and Ray drank in the deep heat, the flavor unique to Fraser. Pulling back, Ray whispered, "You can shower with me if you want."

"I know, but I'd rather wait until you're better."

"Okay, okay. Can't hurt to ask."

"Believe me, Ray, when it's the right time, we'll do more than shower together."

"A lot more?"

"Plenty."

"Sounds good."

Fraser led the way into the bathroom. He turned on the water, letting it run to get the temperature warm enough, but not too hot. "Ready?"

"I can do this on my own, Fraser. You don't have to stay."

"Ray, you can shower alone, but I want to be in here. I'll hand you the shampoo and conditioner when you need it. When you're finished, I'll help you dry off and put on your robe. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not embarrassed."

"Then why are you so hesitant to shower?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping the first time you saw me in the buff, it'd be a bit more sexy than this and you'd be naked, too."

"I can strip down if you prefer."

Ray chuckled and then shook his head. "Yeah, well, that's not exactly what I meant. Guess we'll save that eyefest for later."

"As you wish."

With Fraser's help, he slipped off his boxers and then carefully stepped into the hot spray. He closed the curtain and reveled in the welcome beat of water against his skin. It'd been weeks since his last shower, weeks since he last got a chance to get fully clean. Using his good hand for balance, he turned and stood face first into the full force of the shower. He smiled at the newly applied rubber grips on the bottom of the tub, Fraser's idea. Good thing, too, because he knew without a doubt that he'd probably fall and bust his ass otherwise. His balance just didn't work as well as it used to, not yet.

Being one-handed made it almost impossible to use a cloth, so he just soaped up with his free hand and rinsed off the best he could, the sudsy water warm and slick against his skin. Gritting his teeth, he kept his thoughts neutral about the raised scars, the lines all over his stomach, along his sides, and hips, across his neck. He held his good hand beyond the curtain. "Shampoo." A dollop squeezed into his hand. "Thanks."

Vigorously, he washed his hair quickly and rinsed before extending the hand once more. "I need a double wash on this stuff." Fraser dutifully gave him more shampoo and Ray proceeded to wash and massage his scalp as well as he could. Rinsing, he asked for the conditioner, which he used quickly.

Ray stood there for a few more minutes, just relishing the hot water before finally reaching down to turn off the taps. Pushing the curtain aside, he found Fraser buck naked, smiling and holding out a towel. "Ready, Ray?"

The towel muffled his laugh. If he hadn't been so suddenly cold and disadvantaged, he'd have wrestled his partner to the ground right then and there and played with that wild, uncut dick. Instead, he let Fraser rub him all over, Fraser's pale skin only seen in flashes. He got dried off and Fraser removed the plastic from his cast.

Guided into the bedroom, Ray sat on the edge of the bed as Fraser handed him his new flannel robe and then slipped on his own red long johns. Ray smiled. "I love those things."

Fraser looked down at himself. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I got jealous when you let Lady Shoes have a tour."

Blushing scarlet, Fraser shook his head. "You had nothing to worry about, I assure you, Ray."

"I don't know. You two looked awfully cozy when I first got there that night when she stayed at your place."

"Ray..."

"I'm just kidding you, Fraser. I know the dame didn't have a chance, or at least I do now."

Fraser studied him for a moment. "Did you really get jealous?"

"Well, yeah, a little, but that's just me. I guess you kind of noticed that, huh, my little green-eyed monster thing? I mean, you can't tell me you didn't figure out how much it bothered me when that lady bounty hunter almost struck a claim."

Fraser nodded thoughtfully as he buttoned up the top of his underwear. "I can't really complain, Ray. After all, I wasn't exactly the most sensitive friend when you had your failed romantic fling with Luanne."

"Romantic fling? That was no fling, that was me being a jackass, that was me trying to figure out what to do about the fact that I wanted to sleep with you more than I wanted to sleep with her."

Fraser stepped closer, his face more clouded. "Is that true? Did you really want to be with me then?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Good Lord, Ray. Why did it take so long to say something?"

"What? Your lips broken? You couldn't talk first? I mean, it's not like you can't talk, Fraser, so this is not all on me."

"Of course not, Ray. I didn't mean to suggest that..." Fraser stopped and then swallowed hard to compose himself. "I'm sorry. It doesn't really matter now. We've both been reluctant to confess our true feelings for a number of valid personal reasons. We shouldn't belabor the point."

"Right, right." Ray leaned forward, his body relaxed, but tired from the hot shower. "Look, I'm just glad we got over being so chickenshit and told the truth."

"As am I."

"It's all good then."

Fraser nodded in agreement and then stepped to the bed. He put on another pair of latex gloves and picked up the tube of antibiotic cream. He pulled down the back of Ray's robe and applied a liberal amount. Then he picked up the prepared dressing and placed it over the wound before applying the tape to the edges. He readjusted Ray's robe and then kneeled beside him, opening up the flap and exposing the red gash. Once again, he efficiently tended the injury and slipped off the gloves.

Ray remained quiet, watching his friend attend him, observing the intense and serious expression. His heart swelled with love and appreciation as Fraser looked at every part of him and didn't turn away, didn't get grossed out by all the nastiness that he still carried. Placing a hand on Fraser's head, he sighed. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome. I think we should wait until tomorrow for the shave. You should take your medicine and try to rest. You look tired."

"You going to come to bed with me or are you going to stay up and read some?"

"It's been a long day. I must confess to being a bit tired myself, so retiring early sounds very appealing."

"I'll bet. I mean, you've been taking care of me for so long, you need to take care of yourself, too." Ray combed his fingers through Fraser's dark, wavy hair. "You've been great through all this. It can't be easy."

Fraser moved to sit beside him on the bed, taking Ray's hand in his own. "The hardest part is knowing that you've been through so much and there's nothing I can do to change that."

"But you're here and you're not freaked out. That's something. That's more than a lot of people could do. Hell, it's probably harder for you than it is me when you think about it."

"I don't understand."

"Well, you know what happened. I don't, not really. You read the files, read all the details. I only remember bits and pieces. It's been over three weeks and it's still no better. I still don't remember any more than I did."

"Dr. Reese said that's not unusual for your kind of situation."

"My kind of situation." Ray repeated the words slowly, letting his bitterness spill across his tongue. "What the fuck does he know about my kind of situation? What he reads in books, what he hears from all the lame ass cops who get stuck pouring their hearts out in his office? He ever have to go through it? He ever have to know first hand what it's like to look into a guy's eyes and know, I mean really know, he's going to hurt you worse than you've ever been hurt before and then either put a bullet in your head or slice your throat? No, the prick doesn't know shit about my kind of situation, Fraser." Air tightened in his chest as he stood, the room suddenly too hot, his skin too itchy.

A strong hand caught his arm and pulled him back to the bed as Fraser tried to calm him down. "Ray, it's all right to be angry."

Jerking away, Ray stood up again, this time staying on his feet as he paced the room. "I know that. I don't need your fucking permission to be pissed."

"I didn't mean to suggest that you did. Perhaps I should sleep on the sofa tonight."

Ray stalled. "What?"

"Perhaps you need some time to yourself."

"I don't need fucking time to myself, Fraser. I need you. You're not sleeping on the fucking couch and I'm not mad at you."

"I know that, Ray."

"Then why the threat?"

"Threat?"

"Yeah, threat to sleep on the couch? I mean, that's a Stella routine, only it's me in the doghouse, me who has to sleep on the couch because Stella's pissed and raving about something that's got nothin' to do with me."

Fraser looked lost, tugging on his ear. "I don't know what to say to that, Ray. I'm not Stella. We don't even have a doghouse."

The temper rolled away and Ray sagged on the bed beside Fraser, suddenly defeated. "No, you're not Stella, not even close. I just meant that sometimes when she'd get pissed about something that had nothing to do with me, I'd pay for it anyway. Some Joe down at the DA's would give her a hard time and she'd come home late and pick a fight with me. Sure, sometimes we'd fuck like crazy when we finally made up, but towards the end, it wasn't like that. I'd end up sleeping alone. It got old, Fraser, really old."

"I'm sorry, Ray. It sounds lonely."

"It was. Funny, I never really thought about how bad it was. I mean, I knew we had problems, but it was the only life I knew, so I fought like hell to keep it, even though deep down inside, I knew I'd be better off to just cut her loose and move on."

Ray took a deep breath and faced Fraser. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blow up like that. It's just when I go nuts, please don't do the sleep on the couch thing. I have a really hard time with that. If we're together, we're together, no running to the living room until Ray stops acting crazy, okay? Just kick me in the head or let me rant until it's over. I blow up big, but it doesn't usually last long."

Fraser sighed and touched his cheek briefly before looking down at his hands. "It's just very difficult to see you so angry, Ray. I know it's not really me, but it's hard."

"Jesus, I'm a prick. I'm sorry."

"I know."

"That I'm a prick?"

"That you're sorry."

Foreheads together, they remained quiet for several long seconds before Ray lifted his head. "We should have some kind of secret password."

"Secret password?"

"Yeah, some kind of secret code so you can let me know I'm being an asshole, you know, like when I start blowing off steam and you get caught up in the blast. That way you've got a way to let me know that you know what's going on."

Fraser's brow wrinkled. "I'm afraid I have no idea what that means, Ray."

"Sure you do, sure you do. It's simple. I get a little crazy and go off and instead of you saying you should sleep on the couch, you could say something like Turtle or James Dean. That lets me know that you're not going to leave, that you understand that I'm not mad at you no matter how much I carry on." Ray took Fraser's hand and squeezed, his voice pleading. "Because I'm not, Fraser, I'm not mad at you, ever. You've got to know that. I need you to stick around and not get hurt because I lose it every now and then, cause it's going to happen. I can't seem to stop it right now. I'm all kind of twisted up inside and I try to keep it down, but it just slips out before I can stop it."

"It's all right, Ray. I understand, though I'm not so sure about this secret password plan."

"Too complicated?"

"Too unnecessary. If you need to vent, then I'll let you vent. If you get too abusive, I'll simply tell you to stop."

"Stop?"

"Yes."

Ray bit his lower lip. "I'm not so sure stop will do the trick here, Fraser. It's too much like you're bossing me around."

"Bossing you around?"

"Yeah, and when I'm pissed, that might just make things worse. I mean, it might work, and it might not. I just don't know. It's not like my brain is working all reasonable when I'm freaking out."

"And Turtle or James Dean would be so different in terms of context that instead of making you more upset, it would jar you from whatever angry frame of mind you might be in." Fraser nodded, a small smile on his face. "Actually, that makes sense, Ray."

"It does?"

"Yes." Fraser relaxed. "So, do you prefer Turtle or James Dean?"

"How about eclipse?"

"Eclipse? Any particular reason?"

Ray shrugged, still holding Fraser's hand. "You gave me something really special that day, and I'm not talking about just the dream catcher and the party, though those were cool, too." Meeting Fraser's eyes, Ray whispered, "I'm talking about your friendship, the best gift I've ever had."

"Then eclipse it is." Fraser kissed him briefly before standing. "Let me get your medication and then we can get some sleep."

"Sure."

As Fraser left the room, Ray leaned over, his head in hand. He knew full well that he needed a lot more than a password to cut out the madness growing wild in his gut, the pain like a living thing spitting venom into his brain. The rot made him sick, almost too pale to keep breathing. But he kept taking in air, kept praying that Fraser still loved him. Ray knew that faith in Fraser's devotion allowed him to live when sometimes he'd rather be dead. He also knew that Fraser could never find out, never be allowed to discover just how ugly it sometimes got in his head, how close he came to calling it quits when the darkness swarmed in all around him.

"There's no hiding from the truth, Son."

Fraser looked up from the kitchen table and the morning paper, frowning at his father. "What truth is that?"

"The Yank's not getting better."

Sighing, Fraser glanced over at the bedroom door. It stood slightly ajar, Ray's sleeping form just visible through the narrow opening. "I know."

"You could lose him. What do you plan to do about it?"

Words choked in his throat. "What do you suggest? I can't force him to see a doctor."

"Do you really think that's the answer?"

"I think we've pretty much established I don't know the answer."

His father stepped closer, his face more grim than Fraser could ever remember since he was a child. "He has to face what happened."

"Why is that so important?"

"I think you know why. He can't move on if he's using all his energy hiding from the truth. It didn't work for me and it won't work for him."

Fraser met his father's troubled eyes. "What do you mean, it didn't work for you?"

"You think that dying is the worst thing that can happen to a person, Son? I assure you, it's not. When your mother died, that was the worst, that was almost more than I could manage. I've been where the Yank is, and I'm here to tell you, that dying is easy compared to living when you feel gutted and empty, when you feel like you've been forced beyond what any reasonable person, man or woman, should ever have to bear. There were times when walking in front of some criminal's bullet seemed like the right thing to do. Grief muddles one's thinking, no doubt about it."

Frightened by the gravity of his father's words, Fraser worked to control his own voice. "What can I do?"

"Be a good partner."

"I'm doing the best I can."

"You have to do more. You're still holding back, still being reserved. Why should he be honest with you if you're not going to return the favor? Partnership is about trusting enough to share, both the good and the bad. Your mother understood that. I think deep down, you'll know when it happens. Logic is all well and good, but it's not the answer to every problem. That's why you need the Yank and why he needs you. He's on the edge and you have to be right there beside him. He'll decide for himself, but you've got to let him know your faith in him hasn't been shaken by what's happened, that he hasn't lost your trust in his good nature."

Shocked, Fraser stood up. "My faith in Ray is as strong as ever. What happened wasn't his fault."

"Think about who you're talking to, Son. You can't hide from the truth. You have to deal with your own troubles, rational or not, before you can ever hope to help the Yank. I'm just here to let you know that you don't have much time left to make it right. The Yank's the impulsive type, just like your mother."

"Make what right? I don't understand."

Before his father could answer, the phone rang and he disappeared as fast as he showed up. Frustrated, Fraser picked up the receiver quickly to keep from waking Ray. "Constable Fraser speaking."

"Constable, it's Lieutenant Welsh."

"Lieutenant, it nice to hear from you."

"I hope you still think so when I tell you what I've found out."

The rough tone chilled him and Fraser glanced uneasily at the bedroom doorway. He worked to keep his voice quiet. "What is it?"

"The Feds have a tape of the assault."

Fraser sagged to his chair, his eyes closed, his head about to explode. "How is that possible?"

"Good question. Is there a way you can come into the station later today without alerting your partner?"

"I suppose so. He said he wanted to get his hair cut by someone named Lila."

"Good. Call me right before you get away. We need to talk and figure out what to do about this mess."

Swallowing hard, Fraser struggled to keep his words steady. "Have you seen the tape, sir?"

Several seconds of silence followed and Fraser heard the long sigh at the other end of the line. "Yes, Constable, and I can safely say, I wish I hadn't."

"Dear Lord."

"I'm sorry, Constable. I need your input about what to do."

"Do?"

"Kowalski has a right to know about the tape, but I'm just not sure we should tell him. That's why I need to see you."

"Yes, sir, I understand. Ray's still sleeping. When he wakes, I'll have a better idea of our schedule."

"Just don't let him get wind of why you're coming to see me. I don't want him going off the deep end, thinking we're keeping secrets."

"But we are keeping secrets."

"With good reason."

Fraser couldn't argue with that, so he didn't.

"Fraser, you okay? You're acting a little twitchy."

"I'm fine, Ray. More coffee?"

Ray settled back against the kitchen chair and shook his head. "I might be on leave, but I'm still a good detective. Something's going on, so give."

Fraser avoided meeting his eyes. "I didn't sleep well."

"And that's it?"

"I was just wondering what you wanted to do today. Perhaps, you should give your friend Lila a call and get your hair done like you wanted."

"Good distraction tactic there, Frase."

Fraser looked up, annoyed. "I'm just suggesting a simple plan of action."

"And now you're pissed because I'm onto ya. Come on, what's wrong? Long johns too tight in all the wrong places? Dief eat the last doughnut?"

Frustrated, Fraser shook his head. "If you must know, it's my father."

"What's the old man done now?"

"He's not so old."

"He's dead, Fraser, so he's not getting any older. Besides, it's just an expression. So, what did he say that's got you all bent out of shape?"

"It's rather personal."

"Personal?"

"Yes."

Ray sipped the last of his coffee, his heart beating faster, his chest tight from the sting of exclusion. "That your way of saying butt out and mind your own damn business?"

"It's just that it was rather upsetting and I haven't quite figured out how to deal with it yet."

"Maybe I could help? Ever thought about that? Ever thought that I might be able to help rather than just be a burden?"

Stunned, Fraser faced him. "Burden? Is that what you think? You think you're a burden to me?"

"Well, yeah, sometimes, especially right now. It's not like I'm pulling my own weight while I'm laid up."

"You're an idiot, Ray."

Shocked by the spontaneous outburst, Ray just sat there, his mouth open. After a few seconds of lag time, he grinned. "An idiot, huh?"

"You think that's funny?"

"What? Being an idiot? Sure, why not? It's not like we don't know it's the truth."

"God, you're so exasperating. You have no idea how much I love you. You are not a burden, Ray, not ever. We're partners. Partners help one another when they need it. Right now you're the one who needs it. Who's to say down the line, I won't need you, too?"

"So you're saying you don't need me now?"

"Dear God, that's not what I meant at all. I need you now more than ever." Fraser stumbled over his words. "I'm making a mess of this. My father's right, I'm a miserable partner."

"The old coot said that?"

"Something like it. He said I had troubles of my own that were keeping me from letting you fully trust me."

"What kind of troubles?"

"He didn't say. He was his usual enigmatic, irritating self."

Ray leaned in, his voice strained. "But you've got to know what it is that's bugging you. So what is it?"

"That's the problem, Ray. I don't know. I keep going over what he said and it makes no sense. He said that I was keeping you at a distance, but I don't believe that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"What?"

"It's the truth. You're doing it now. You told me the whole thing was personal, like it was some big secret, like I'm not part of the really important stuff in your life. You say you love me, but you don't let me know what's really going on with you sometimes." Anger flushed Fraser's cheeks as he stood up and walked over to the counter. He crossed his arms and took several calming breaths, but didn't say anything. "See, you're doing it right now."

"Doing what?"

"Locking yourself down."

"I don't like fighting, Ray."

"Too bad. You say you love me, but you won't let me near you, not the you that matters. Even when you're touching me, I feel like there's a part of you that's not really there, like you live in your head. You let yourself edge in, but just so close, and then you back off, get all distant and detached. Tell me I'm wrong, tell me to fuck off, tell me something."

Ray waited, watching his partner struggle with the demand. Finally, Fraser found his voice, a mere whisper. "You're not wrong. But it's not you, Ray. It's just really hard to trust myself with feelings."

"I know that. They scare the hell out of you. I get that loud and clear."

"But do you know why?"

"I can guess, but I'd rather you tell me. That's the whole point, Frase. I need you to trust me enough to tell me."

Fraser stepped back to the table and sat down in the chair next to Ray's, every muscle still tense and on guard. "I will on one condition."

"Shit, more conditions."

"But it's a fair one, Ray."

"Okay. What?"

"You have to trust me, too. You have to tell me what you're really feeling inside, no pretending that you feel fine when it's obvious that you don't." Fraser reached for his hand again and this time Ray let him take it, hold it between both of his own. "You tell me to trust you, to bare my heart to you, and yet you keep a part of yourself separate, a part I think you believe I can't handle."

Ray dropped his eyes from Fraser's intense gaze. "Why would I do that?"

"You tell me."

Ray wanted to pull away and run for cover, but instead, he overcame his impulse to lie. "I love you, Fraser. It's hard to tell you how I really feel when what I really feel is so scary."

Fraser squeezed his hand, his words strong and steady. "Maybe it won't feel so scary if you share it. I think that's what my father was trying to say, that we both have feelings that will hurt us if we keep hiding from them or if we keep hiding them from one another."

"Like your fear of getting too close?"

"Like your depression?"

"Noticed that, huh?"

"I'm a detective, too, Ray."

"A good one." Ray paused and then sighed. "I didn't want you to know how bad it was."

"How bad is it?"

"Bad, but it comes and goes. It's not constant bad, just mostly bad."

Fraser leaned in, never letting go of Ray's hand. "Tell me what to do to make it good again."

"I don't know. I don't have an answer for that, but I can tell you what will make it better."

"What?"

"Tell me what you're really afraid of."

Fraser didn't hesitate this time, but Ray didn't see the answer coming. "You."

"Me?"

"The sheer force of you, Ray, is overwhelming. I can't think straight when I'm near you unless I compartmentalize some part of myself for safekeeping. I suppose it's a coping mechanism I developed because I don't always trust the power of my own emotions."

"And that scares you, these emotions?"

"Yes."

"And I cause strong emotions? Good ones or bad ones?"

"Depends on who you ask."

Ray refused to be distracted. "I'm asking you. Good or bad?"

"Mostly good. Love, desire, hope for the future."

"And the bad?"

"Frustration. Sometimes pain."

"Pain?"

Fraser wet his bottom lip. "It's hurts to see you in so much pain and not be able to fix it, to take it away."

Nodding, Ray considered the answers carefully, grateful for Fraser's honesty. "I get that. I feel the same way when you talk about things that hurt you, too. But, what I don't get is why you're as freaked by the good feelings as the bad. Why are you so afraid of feeling good?"

Fraser shook his head. "I don't know, Ray."

"I think you do."

"I assure you that..."

"Assure me all you want, Fraser, but you have to know why you're so terrified of feeling good, of letting your guard down." Ray leaned in and whispered the command. "Tell me."

Hesitation stretched time like rain slashing through thick fog. Finally, Fraser spoke quietly. "It hurts too much."

"Like it did with Victoria and Bullweather, right?" Fraser just nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. "So, you're going to make me pay for their sins, Fraser? Make me suffer because they were assholes who didn't appreciate a good thing?"

Fraser looked at him, his face pale. "I don't mean to, Ray."

"Then don't. Don't be afraid of letting me make you feel good."

"You make me feel good just by being alive, Ray."

It was Ray's turn to blush. "Talk about easy."

"Your struggle to stay alive has been anything but easy."

"I wasn't talking about me. I was talking about how easy it is to make you feel good if it only takes me to make you happy."

"You do make me happy, Ray, more happy than I've ever been." Fraser sat back, the whole idea of dealing with his feelings exhausting. "I want to relax, Ray, I do. But undoing learned behaviors is often harder than reinforcing new ones."

"Tell me about it. I know it ain't easy." Ray got up and paced the living room a few times, suddenly more energized. "I've got it. Why don't I shave and get my hair done? Then the two of us can spend the day buying some stuff we need for our trip. It'll be fun. And we can even get Turtle his new tank. We could make a day of it. We can just run around and feel good together. It'll be great."

"Ray, that plan seems rather ambitious. You just got out of the hospital. Perhaps, we could just do personal hygiene. Then we could see how you're feeling after that."

"You think I'll be too tired to shop for mukluks?"

Fraser laughed. "Could be. I'm not even sure they sell mukluks in Chicago."

"Or if I'd wear them if they did." Ray grinned and ran a hand through his flat hair. "You're probably right. Look, why don't I call Lila and get an appointment while you get the stuff ready for shaving?"

"Certainly."

As Fraser stood to go to gather his supplies, Ray stepped closer. "We'll work this all out, Frase. It won't hurt to feel good, or at least not so much that you won't keep trying. I promise."

Fraser nodded without answering, his face worn and tired. Ray watched, still uneasy, his detective's mind working out what his partner was still trying to hide.

Ray relaxed under the hot towel with his eyes closed, the heat making him sleepy. Fraser lifted the cloth away and then layered the warm shaving cream over the beard, his fingers massaging it down to the skin. "Feels good."

"It'll be nice to see your face again."

"I shouldn't have let it go this long."

"It's not a problem, Ray. It just takes a little longer to take off."

"No hurry. Lila said she couldn't see me until eleven."

"Actually, I'm surprised you got in that quickly."

"Yeah, me, too, but I told her I was leaving on vacation and I could advertise her stuff to a whole new market up in the middle of nowhere."

Fraser chuckled and then wiped off his hands. He picked up the newly sharpened straight razor and tilted Ray's chin. "You need to be still while I do this, Ray."

Opening his eyes, Ray jerked back, his body suddenly cold. "What the fuck?"

Startled, Fraser held very still. "What's wrong?"

Air stopped moving as Ray shuddered and curled in on himself. Waves of pain rolled over him as a voice hissed poison. "You think you're going to die today, but you're not, not yet."

"God." Struggling to get to his feet, Ray lurched to the kitchen sink and heaved. He retched over and over until his stomach emptied completely, a cold sweat all over his body. A supportive hand held his back as he slid down the cabinet.

"Ray?"

"Give me a minute." Ray gulped through the queasiness as he worked desperately to calm his racing heart, to convince himself Clooney was dead and not in his head, no where near him. He cleared his throat and took several quick breaths. "Fuck."

"What just happened here, Ray?"

"The razor."

"What about the razor?"

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I can't do it, can't let you put that thing to my throat."

"Dear God, Ray, I'm so sorry. I never even thought about how that must look to you after what happened."

"Me, neither." Ray closed his eyes and let his head lean back against the hard wood of the cabinet behind him. "Sorry. It was too much like...like, well, like, you know."

"Yes, Ray, I do know."

Fraser moved to cleaned his face gently. "We'll find another way to do this."

Ray stilled Fraser's hand. "No. Wait."

"Ray, you can keep the beard or we'll use the electric razor."

"No, I need to do this. It's not like you're going to cut me. I know that." Ray gritted his teeth and stood up slowly, using Fraser's arm to bring him to his feet. "I want to try again. I just need to take it slow."

"Are you sure?"

Ray met concerned blue eyes. "I trust you, Fraser. I can't let this guy win. I want him out of my head. I've got to do this."

Nodding, Fraser reluctantly moved back to the chair and waited for Ray to sit down. Swallowing back his own terror, Ray bit his lip, the soap making him want to gag again. He fought it down and then put the towel back around his neck. "Okay, okay, maybe if you just talked while you did it, maybe tell a story or something like you sometimes do. Then maybe I can do this."

"Perhaps a song?"

"Sure, sure, a song might do the trick."

Ray took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting Fraser's hand guide the position of his head while he shaved him so very slowly and carefully. He focused on his friend's fine tenor, on the power of the beautiful voice that soothed him. The words didn't make sense, but the melody kept his mind calmer than his traitorous breathing. As he listened carefully, he remembered the song, the Inuit love song from the hospital. Funny. One of the few times he ever wanted to learn a foreign language and it had to be one where his tongue would never manage all the chopped up syllables. Still, Fraser did okay, more than okay, sang it like a real love song from one lover to another. God, how much did he love Fraser? More than Stella? Not even in the same universe, that's how much he loved Fraser. He never knew he could love anyone that much, more than he ever believed possible.

Fraser kept singing and Ray listened intently, knowing that if he stopped, he'd be lost all over again, lost with Clooney at his throat and starting all over.

After a while, a heated palm cupped his clean cheek. "I'm finished, Ray. You can open your eyes now."

Ray nodded, his own voice nowhere to be found as Fraser let him cry it out, holding him gently against his solid chest.

Lila turned out to be a young woman with orange hair wilder than Ray's on a good day. "Ray!" She yelled out across the salon and came running, throwing her arms around Ray, hugging him, and then standing back to shake her head. "Oh, my God, Ray, what the fuck have you been up to?"

"Losing every bar fight in Chicago. How about you, Babe?"

Still shaking her head, she fingered his cast. "We could dye this to match your hair, if you want."

"I don't think so, Lila. Fraser here wouldn't like it."

For the first time she turned her attention to Fraser, who smiled and took off his hat. Ray grinned, loving every minute. Now that he had Fraser for himself, he got a real kick out of how women reacted to his partner. "Jesus, Ray, is this the famous Constable Fraser?"

"The one and only."

"Wow. Fucking gorgeous. Lucky you."

Fraser blushed again and Ray laughed. "Fraser, this is Lila Terrance."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Terrance. I've been an admirer of your hair styling for some time now. You've got a remarkable gift for bringing out the inner character of your clients."

She giggled lightly and held out her hand. "Well, thank you kindly, Constable Fraser. Ray's got quite a character to bring out."

Fraser turned even redder. Ray nudged him. "I've mentioned you once or twice, Frase. It's sort of a catch phrase now."

"I see."

"And what a gorgeous dog."

Ray grinned proudly. "That's Dief and he's a wolf."

Lila squatted down, petting Dief's muzzle and then ruffling his fur. Dief lapped up the attention and yipped in appreciation. "Bet he hates the smell in this place."

"Wolves have an incredibly heightened olfactory sense. He did complain briefly that the chemicals made his nose sting. "

"Complained?"

Before she could ask any further questions, Ray interrupted. "So, what do you think you can do with this mess, Lila?"

Standing up, moving away from Dief, Lila ran her fingers through Ray's flat, light brown hair. "You definitely need a trim here. We going for the full works, color, too?"

"Sure, I'd like that."

"And I'll pay, Ray."

"You're not paying to have my hair done, Fraser."

"I don't see why not. I'm the one who gets to enjoy it the most."

Lila cackled and Ray blushed harder than Fraser. He couldn't believe such a blatant statement, one that no one would mistake for simple friendship, especially not someone like Lila.

"Oh, Ray, I'm so happy for you." She kissed him on his cheek, leaving bright red lipstick all over. Then she kissed Fraser. "It's on the house, a wedding present from me to you." She shook her head in admiration. "God, you lucky dog, Fraser. Ray here's a great catch."

Instead of being embarrassed, Fraser beamed. "Thank you kindly, Ms. Terrance. I happen to agree wholeheartedly."

"Call me Lila."

"Lila, your gift is much appreciated, and while we've not had a formal ceremony as of yet, when we do, you'll certainly be invited."

Flustered, Ray didn't know what to think. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray? Is there a problem?"

Lila piped in. "Yeah, Ray, is there a problem?"

"I'm not sure, but I think we've just been outed."

Giggling again, Lila shook her head. "Do I look shocked to you?" She leaned in, lowering her voice to a safer level, but the tease still there. "I hate to break it to you, Ray, but it's not really a big surprise."

"It's not?"

"Not since you started talking about Fraser here like I talk about Anna."

Fraser interrupted, "Anna?"

"My girlfriend."

"Ah."

"Ah?"

"Never mind him. He does that, the ah thing."

"Gotcha. Anyway, I talk about Anna the way you talk about Fraser. You know I've got no problem with you guys being together, right?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"But what?"

Ray glanced over at Fraser, who nodded as if reading his mind. "I'm sorry, Ray. You're right. We should have discussed it first."

"Actually, I thought we did. I thought we were just going to keep a low profile about this."

Lila stood up straighter. "Look, maybe you guys want some alone time to talk things over?"

Ray shook his head as he used a tissue to wipe off the lipstick from his own face and then off Fraser's. "No, that's okay. You're busy and you've got other people after me, so let's do the hair thing." He met Fraser's eyes and smiled. "Fraser and me, we'll talk later, right, Frase?"

"Absolutely, Ray. Meanwhile, while you're busy, I need to run a few errands."

"Errands? What kind of errands?"

"Nothing important." Fraser turned to Dief and kneeled to make sure the wolf could see his face clearly. "Stay with Ray until I return."

Lila nudged Ray. "What's he doing?"

"Dief's deaf."

"Really? So why's he talking to him?"

"He reads lips."

"Fraser?"

Ray sighed. He loved Lila, but she wasn't always the brightest crayon in the box. "No, Dief reads lips."

"Oh, I get it."

Fraser stood up and turned back to Lila. "How long will this process take?"

"You can come back in an hour and he should be ready, prettier than ever."

"Thank you." He turned his attention to Ray. "I'll be back shortly."

Ray reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Here. Take this."

"Why?"

"In case I need to call you."

Reluctantly, Fraser took it, his face suddenly more serious. "I don't have to go, Ray. I could stay here."

"And be bored? Just go and have a good time. Take a walk or whatever."

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"I'll be fine. Me and Dief, we'll be A-okay, real buddies. I'm just being stupid. You go run your errands." He wet his lower lip, his words suddenly more quiet. "Just don't forget to come back."

"You don't have to worry, Ray. I won't forget." He put the cell phone in his coat pocket and turned to leave, then hesitated. Stepping back, he whispered in Ray's ear. "I love you."

Ray still wore the goofy grin when he went to sit in Lila's work station. Settling into the raised chair, he took a deep breath. He lost his smile when he looked in the mirror. Even without his glasses, he saw the haggard image staring back. Jesus, he looked like shit, sick with hollowed out eyes, sunken cheeks, the bright red slash across his throat not quite as healed as he thought. The fading bruises still yellowed his face and made him look ten years older. Fuck, no wonder everybody kept staring.

He jerked upright as Lila's hand on his shoulder surprised him.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just jumpy."

"It's okay, Sweetie." She kissed his head and draped him. "Let's move to the sink and give this mop a good wash first. Then I'll cut it and then color. Okay?"

"Sure. Sounds good."

Lila guided him to the chair and leaned his head back. He winced at the unexpected pain. "You okay?"

"Fine. Just got a cut on my right shoulder."

"Here. Lift up. I can do this without you being so far back."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. Don't be such a fucking martyr."

Grudgingly, he let her move the chair closer and sure enough, it didn't hurt quite as much. Even if it had, he sure as hell wouldn't have let Lila know. He relaxed as she washed his hair, the suds and warm water comforting somehow. She rinsed him off and then put a towel over his head before moving him back to the chair at her station. She took off the towel and talked to him while he faced the mirror. "So, how short do you want to go?"

"You know what looks good. You decide."

Nodding, she smiled. "You're going to be fucking gorgeous when I'm through."

"Not as fucking gorgeous as Fraser."

Lila laughed and tapped his shoulder playfully. "You've got your own fabulous thing going on, Honey. Now, let's make you even more fine for your prince."

Ray couldn't help it, he smiled, relieved that he didn't have to hide what Fraser meant to him, what they meant to each other. As she started snipping, Ray asked, "So, how long you and Anna been together?"

"We've been living together just over a year. We were friends for over three years before that."

"Why'd it take so long for you two to get together?"

"Anna was married. The guy left her for another woman and she just wasn't ready to get with anyone too soon after that. Plus, there was the whole am I or am I not thing."

"Am I or am I not what thing?"

"The am I or am I not a lesbian thing."

"And she didn't know that before?"

"Did you?"

"I've never been a lesbian, ever, no matter what anybody says. I swear."

"You know what I mean, Ray. How long after Stella did you know you might go for guys?"

"One guy, and it took a while."

"Then you know what it was like for Anna. She didn't want to disappoint her parents and she's a teacher, so she had to deal with that, too."

"Yeah, I remember. You said she teaches third grade."

"At St. Mary's. It was hard for her. I think most of the people have figured it out, but they don't say anything about it. I just don't get to go to any of her school functions. We'll do the whole roommate thing unless she decides to teach some place where it won't matter."

"Where would that be?"

"In public school she wouldn't have to pretend I'm just her roomie to keep her job." Lila frowned as she continued snipping his hair. "But I don't push it. It has to be up to her."

"If she taught in public school, she could claim you as a domestic partner, right?"

"Yeah." Lila tilted her head as she studied Ray's hair in the mirror before she clipped some more across the top. "What about you? You going to be able to be out and still be a cop?"

"I don't know yet."

"You going to look into it?"

Swallowing hard, Ray closed his eyes and sighed. "This is all new to me, Lila. I don't know. I just don't. The guys I work with, well, you know how it is."

Lila stopped cutting and spoke softer. "I hope it works out, Ray. I really do. He seems like a really sweet guy."

Ray nodded and smiled again. "Yeah, he is."

Lila grinned, too, her voice teasing again. "So, you want to go blond for your honey?"

"Yeah, yeah, he likes that."

"Blond it is then."

She donned a pair of plastic gloves and stirred up the goop. "You're more pale than you were. I think we'll go for soft blond, not too brassy this time."

"You know best."

Lila layered the thick mixture on his hair, the smell strong. He knew Dief's poor nose must be hurting. She slipped a plastic cap on his head and led him to the dryer. "Five minutes, then rinse. I'll be in the back, but I'll keep an eye on you, okay?"

"Sure. No problem."

Ray closed his eyes, relaxing under the heated air of the dryer, wondering what the hell Fraser was up to. Errands his ass. He knew that look. Fraser went somewhere he didn't want Ray to know about. In his mind, he checked off a whole list of possibilities, but before he could pick one over another, Lila showed up to take care of business.

"Looking good there, Ray. Rinse time."

Once again, but more thoroughly, she rinsed out his hair, washing it again and then also adding conditioner that smelled like strawberries. Then she toweled him to almost dry before leading him back to the chair. She put some gel on her fingers to work his hair up into spikes while she blew it completely dry. By the time she finished, he looked almost like his old self again, almost. Not much she could do about the dark circles, bruises, and scars, but his hair looked wicked. "I like it."

"You look great." She patted his shoulder, proud of her work.

"You sure I can't pay you for it?"

"You do and I'll have to hurt you."

"You think you could take me?"

"From the looks of you right now, Honey, I could take you without breaking a sweat." She kept her voice light, but her eyes didn't have the usual bright sparkle. "Look, Ray, you don't have to tell me what really happened. That's not my business. But if you need anything, you can call me."

"You already gave me what I needed. Thanks."

Ray stood up and got a big hug before he motioned for Dief to follow. He headed for the pay phone to call Fraser and to find out where the hell his partner really went.

Fraser sat numbly, his hand to his mouth, his eyes too blurry to see straight.

"I'm sorry, Constable, but I thought you needed to know exactly what they've got."

Nodding, Fraser found his voice, but just barely. "Understood, Lieutenant, but Ray can't see this."

"I agree, but the thing is, if he finds out that the tape exists, you know what he's going to think."

"That we lied to him."

"Even if we don't say the words."

"He'll consider it lying by omission."

"I'm afraid so, yes."

Fraser finally blinked to clear his sight, but still struggled to keep his composure. "What do you suggest?"

"That's why I wanted to talk to you. What do you think we should do?" Ray's cries of pain echoed in Fraser's head, the cruel images of his torture freefalling through his brain. "Constable? Fraser? Are you with me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm having a problem concentrating on this."

"Would you like some time alone to pull yourself together?"

Swallowing hard, Fraser shook his head. "No, I don't have much time. I promised Ray I'd be back to pick him up soon."

"Then what do you think we should do about the tape?"

"I suppose destroying it is out of the question?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I only got a copy because the State's Attorney's office got access when the Feds had to finally disclose all the evidence before finalizing the case. Apparently, Crenshaw wanted to keep it under wraps, like he could possibly do that with something this important."

Fraser's breath stalled. "Mrs. Kowalski has seen this?"

Welsh didn't meet his eyes. "She's the one who brought it to me. She's the one who asked me what I thought she should do about it."

"Dear God."

"I know the feeling. She did say she was moving to have it permanently sealed. That means only people directly involved with the case would ever have access and it would never be seen in open court. Ever."

"That would still mean Ray could see it."

"Yes, but only if he insisted."

Fraser shook his head, but it didn't clear his mind much. "We have to tell him that it exists, but we also have to convince him it'd be in his best interest to never see it."

"He's going to be angry as hell and I don't blame him." The words choked. "He didn't deserve that."

"Nobody deserves that."

"I know that. I just meant...hell, you know what I meant." Welsh grabbed a tissue to wipe his eyes before blowing his nose. "Damn allergies."

"These old buildings are notorious for the propagation of mold spores."

"Aren't they just." Controlling himself once again, Welsh cleared his throat. "Okay, so you think we should tell him?"

"As you well know, Ray is an excellent detective, and while it's not extreme, he does tend to have a somewhat paranoid nature that causes him to be acutely aware when someone is being secretive. He'd find out and that would only make matters worse. He needs to be able to trust us."

"Even if he'd be better off not knowing?"

"Even if, yes, sir."

"God, I was afraid you were going to say that."

"I'll tell him."

Welsh nodded. "I figured as much, but I don't envy you."

Fraser stood up, his hands still shaky. "Sir, what's the policy on civilian personnel like myself seeing one of your human resource providers?"

"About your partner?"

"About myself."

Welsh didn't look that surprised. "I'm sure Dr. Reese or one of the others would be more than happy to see you, Constable. Would you like me to call?"

"No, sir. I'll do that. I would appreciate it if you would tell Mrs. Kowalski that we'd be grateful for any help in keeping this matter confidential."

"Already done. Believe me, Constable, Mrs. Kowalski is just as upset about all this as you are. She was married to the man for fifteen years, almost since they were kids apparently. It can't be easy."

Nodding, Fraser didn't look up. "I'm sure it's not."

"Just like it's not easy for you, either."

Fraser met Welsh's steady gaze. "Sir?"

"He's your partner and you're right in the middle."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I know."

Fraser had no doubt that he did. "Thank you, sir."

"Keep me informed."

"Yes, sir."

Then Fraser quietly put on his hat, walked down the hall to the restroom, and got thoroughly sick to his stomach.

Ray kicked the wall outside the salon, wondering where the hell Fraser went and why the hell he didn't answer the damn cell phone. He pulled up the collar of his jacket to fight off the cold. He should go back into the warm building, but he didn't want to, didn't want to deal with all the whispers and stares aimed in his direction. A voice startled him. "Ray? Is that you?"

Fuck. Ray put on a fake smile and turned. "Hey, Jason."

"Jesus, who fucked you over in a dark alley?"

"It's a long story." He studied the young man, over six feet, too thin, black hair sticking out all over. He wondered how a detective's son could look any less like a cop's kid. "How's the old man? Still busting his ass down at the one seven?"

"I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, it's not like Dad and I talk much since he and Mom broke up. He's too busy hanging out with his new wife and her kids."

Ray smacked himself mentally. He'd forgotten Hayes had gotten remarried. "What about school?"

"Dropped out."

"How come?"

Jason took a deep drag off his cigarette and shrugged his shoulders. "College is boring shit, you know? Couldn't see wasting any more money or time. What about you? You waiting for somebody?"

"Yeah, my partner. He's late."

"That your dog?"

"He's a wolf."

Jason extended a hand only to jerk it back quickly when Dief moved in front of Ray with a low, protective growl.

"Shit."

"Sorry." Ray frowned, puzzled by Dief's odd reaction. "That's weird. He usually likes people." Ray touched the thick fur and soothed him, getting the wolf to at least sit down and stop eying Jason like his favorite lunchmeat.

"Didn't know you could have wolves in the city."

"He's Canadian."

"So?"

"So, he's visiting."

"Whatever." Jason took a few more draws off his cigarette and then threw it on the ground, stamping it out with his boot. "So, you look like shit, man, but you probably know that."

"Look, what do you want, Jason?"

"I was thinking maybe I could help you out."

"Help me out?"

"Yeah. I mean, that arm must hurt like hell and you're bound to be taking something already. I figured, maybe you might need a taste of something a little stronger."

Ray snorted and shook his head. "You know I'm a cop, right?"

"So?"

"So, don't be such a dumbshit. You're offering to deal to a cop. You like sitting on your ass behind bars better than going to school? Or is this some kind of payback for your dad dumping your mom? You figure you get arrested and it makes dear old dad look bad in front of the guys he works with?"

"Nah, man, nothing like that. I just thought you could use a little help that's all. I mean, I know doctors get stingy with shit and I know how much it fucking hurts to break something. Been there when I busted my leg. Anyway, I got this friend who gave me some good stuff, the real thing, not homemade shit." Jason took out another cigarette and lit up, taking several deep puffs before he continued. "It's just you were always okay with me, treating me like a person, not some stupid kid, not like some of the pussies and shitheads my dad works with. The stuff's free if you want it, but if you don't, just say so. No harm done. I walk away, no questions."

Mouth dry, Ray tilted his head and cracked his neck, not really sure how to take the whole thing. Even if he weren't on leave from the job, he couldn't arrest the kid, not without a hell of a lot of hassle. "You got the stuff on you?"

"You going to bust me if I say yes?"

"No, but I might kick your ass if you lie."

Reluctantly, Justin dropped his cigarette on the ground and took a brown plastic bottle out of his pocket. "I could've just sold them. They're worth ten bucks a pop."

"And your dad's job if you get caught selling."

"They can't do anything to my dad because of me."

"Internal Affairs would be all over his ass. You know what IA's like and as much as you might be pissed at you dad, I don't think even you want that to happen." Ray held out his hand. "Give it here."

Jason handed him the bottle and then crossed his arms. "What are you going to do? You going to tell my dad?"

"I ought to."

"You gonna?"

Ray put the pills in his jacket pocket and shook his head. "Do me a favor."

"I ain't going back to school."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"What then?"

"I want you to go see your dad."

"Why should I? What business is that of yours?"

"It's not my business. It's just I know your dad and he cares about you. Talked about you all the time, about how good you are, about how he wants you to grow up happy."

"That's bullshit."

Ray stepped closer, his voice low and tight, not letting the young man back too far away. He kept his eyes level with Jason's and didn't look away a single time. "What's bullshit is trying to fuck up your life just so you can fuck with your old man because he did something you don't like. What's bullshit is pretending it don't matter. If you're pissed, then tell him you're pissed, flat out. I've known a lot of cops and your dad's one of the good guys. Sure, he left your mom and I can understand why you'd be mad about that. The thing is, you're always going to be his son and if you really want to hurt him, the best way to do that is to stay out of his life. But if you don't, then go see him and try to find some way to get past all this shit between you."

"You done?"

Ray backed up. "Yeah, I'm done."

"What about the pills?"

"What about'em?"

"You going to turn them in?"

"Too many questions. Toilets flush fine."

"You're going to flush'em?"

"Safest bet."

Jason stared at him a few extra moments with confusion and then shook his head. "You know, my dad got pissed that you worked with IA over that gay bashing thing."

Startled by the quick shift of conversation, Ray played it cool. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He said you were the kind of guy who always tried to do the right thing even if you got your ass kicked, that you had more guts than he ever had. I think that's what pissed him off, that you did what he didn't have the balls to do. He wouldn't tell me all the shit that happened, but I knew it was bad. Everybody knew what was going on, even my dad, but nobody would do anything to stop it." Jason looked away and sighed. "Anyway, I saw you inside with Lila, all beat up, looking like shit. I had the pills left over and I thought this would be a chance to pay you back a little."

"Pay me back a little for what?"

"For helping Jay."

Bingo. "Jay Conover?"

"Yeah. My dad sure as hell didn't care. It meant a lot to Jay though, you going out on a limb like that, taking all the shit over it."

"So being pissed at your dad is about more than him leaving your mom, right?"

Jason shrugged again, but refused to look up. "Thing is, I'm pretty sure he knows, but he never says anything."

"Maybe you should say something first."

"That's what Mom says."

"Your mom knows?"

"Yeah. I made her promise not to tell him. I figure if he cares enough, he'll ask and if he doesn't, it won't make a difference."

Ray knew Hayes, but not well enough to know how to call it. "I'm sorry, Jason. I don't know what to tell you about that. You dad's always been pretty fair when pushed to the point, but it might be a different thing when it's family."

"I know. Anyway, I wasn't trying to deal or get my dad in trouble, honest."

"Sure, just don't do it again. Next time, I might have to do something drastic like haul your ass in."

"And you would, too."

"No doubt. Now, hit the road. I think I see my partner headed this way. Finally."

Jason looked down the street to see Fraser, his brown leather jacket and hat sexy as ever. "That's your partner?"

"Yeah. He's Canadian, too."

"Fuck. He can visit my house anytime."

"Get lost and keep your eyes to yourself."

Jason took off, laughing. Ray leaned back against the building, his eyes trained on Fraser. "Took you long enough."

"You look quite stunning."

"Stunning, huh?"

Fraser nodded, but he took several deep breaths and looked away. Ray frowned and grabbed his shoulder to turn him back around. "You've been crying."

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"We need to go home and talk."

"Did something happen? Did somebody get hurt? Did something happen to Turtle?"

Fraser shook his head, putting his hand on Ray's shoulder to assure him. "Nobody's hurt and Turtle's fine. In fact, we can pick him up any time today."

"Thank God. You scared me. So, what's wrong?"

"We just need to go home."

Ray hesitated, his mind flying out in all directions, worse case scenarios piling up all around him. "You're scaring me, Fraser. What's going on? Tell me."

"Not here."

"Damn it, what the hell is it? You leaving me? You been transferred back to Canada? You change your mind about us? What?"

Fraser kept his voice calm, but the strain showed in his eyes. "It's nothing like that, Ray. I love you. It's about the case."

"The case?"

"Yes, Ray, the case. The car's this way."

Ray stood up straighter as he walked silently beside his partner. He fingered the drugs in his pocket and worried like hell that whatever made Fraser cry would rip him into a million fucking pieces.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"I'd like some answers." Ray slipped off his jacket and hung it on the hanger beside Fraser's in the hallway closet. Dief curled up on the chair and Fraser didn't look up, wouldn't meet his eyes. "Just tell me what's going on."

"I didn't do simple errands this morning."

"I figured."

Fraser looked up. "You knew?"

"You don't lie worth shit, Fraser. So, where'd you go? The station?"

"Lt. Welsh called me this morning. He wanted to meet with me so we could discuss the situation."

"Situation?"

"Ray, please, sit down."

"Fraser, you're freaking me out here. What the hell is it?"

It took several more seconds before Fraser finally answered. "Clooney had a hidden camera at the warehouse. Your assault is on videotape."

Ray barely made it to the sofa. He dropped his head to his right hand and worked hard to keep breathing, the air way too thin for his lungs to handle. The cushion sagged beside him and Fraser's hand gently rubbed circles against his back. "Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

They remained quiet for several long minutes, Ray's mind cramping, his head about to explode. He swallowed back bile as he whispered, "You see it?"

"Yes."

"Made you cry, huh?"

"Yes, Ray, it did."

Lifting his head, Ray met Fraser's bloodshot eyes. He saw sadness, but no pity. Thank God. He'd had enough pity to last a lifetime. Ray cleared his throat. "So why'd Welsh call you? Why not me?"

"He was concerned about telling you about its existence. He wanted my opinion."

"He wanted to keep it quiet? What? He didn't think I could handle it?"

"I believe he's more concerned about you wanting to see it. We both agree that such action would be detrimental to your recovery at this point."

Ray sagged back against the sofa and shook his head. "Why would I want to see it?"

"Any number of reasons."

"Yeah, well, I don't, so don't worry about it. Fuck, Fraser, I can't even read the damn file. You think I could handle something as fucked up as that, seeing that animal do shit? I'm not stupid. I know that's more than I could deal with. Maybe someday, but not now."

"I'm relieved to hear you say that, Ray. I must confess to being worried about how you would react."

"I can see that. I'm glad you didn't lie to me about it though. Welsh really want to keep it a secret?"

"He was unsure. He'd never do anything to deliberately hurt you."

Nodding, Ray accepted that. He liked Welsh, respected how he handled him even when the situation sucked. "So, how'd he find out about the tape?"

"Apparently, the Federal Agents had to disclose all the evidence collected at the crime scene to the State Attorney's office. It was on the last list."

"Oh, shit. Stella. She saw it, too?"

"She's working to have it permanently sealed. No one who isn't directly involved in the case will ever see it and it won't ever be shown in open court for public record."

"But she saw it?"

"I'm afraid so, yes."

"When?"

"I'm not sure, but it must have been recently."

"She saw me get hurt like that?"

"Yes, as I did."

Ray closed his eyes, the tears too hot and too fast to stop. "Shit. This is so fucked."

Fraser touched his arm and Ray jerked away, stood up and walked to the other side of the room, his good arm crossed tightly over his sling. "If I saw this tape, I'd know for sure what happened."

"Ray, that's not a good idea. You said so yourself."

"I know what I said. I'm just saying, I need to know."

"Then ask me, but don't watch the tape."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yes."

Ray dropped down into the chair at the table, his body shaking, his skin clammy. "I can't deal with this now, but later, later, I need to know, and you'll tell me, right?"

"I'll tell you whatever you ask, Ray."

"And you won't pull any punches, you'll tell me the truth, because I need that, Fraser, the truth, not some sugar-coated what you think Ray can handle bullshit."

"Understood."

"Good." Ray wanted to forget about the whole conversation, get back the good feelings of that morning with Lila. Instead, he met Fraser's concerned gaze and shook his head. "I can't do this right now. I need to take my pills and get some sleep. We'll talk more afterwards."

Fraser got up and poured him some water before handing him the antibiotic and pain medicine. "You should eat something so they don't irritate your stomach."

"I'd puke and you know it." Ray swallowed the pills and drained the water. "Wouldn't mind company though. You said you didn't sleep much last night. A nap would do us both good."

"I'd like that."

Ray allowed Fraser to help him to his feet and guide him to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed as Fraser kneeled to pry off his boots. Too tired to smile, Ray simply watched, pleased at the faint touches, the caring conveyed in each contact. He stood up and slipped off his jeans, but kept his sweater, his arms still cold. Getting under the covers, he lay there and watched as Fraser undressed down to undershirt and boxers. Crawling in beside him, Fraser scooted close, arms moving to hold him, to draw him into an embrace. Ray sighed and relaxed, his eyes closed as he drifted off, letting the drugs and the tenderness work to keep him buffered from the pain just off to the side of full focus.

Ray woke up hard, his body warm and heavy and protesting any sudden movement. He sighed as Fraser's hand slipped under his sweater, gently stroking his belly, his chest, and his nipples. "God, Fraser. That's feels so good."

"It feels very nice to me as well, Ray." Fraser lifted up, his palm still skimming over Ray's chest while he kissed him, his lips pressed hard against his own, the whiskers burning his cheek in a good way. Fraser pulled back and stared down, his hungry blue eyes meeting Ray's. "May I touch you?"

"I thought that's what you were doing."

"I mean really touch you, Ray."

The light dawned to what his partner actually meant and Ray nodded, too turned on to even think about saying no. Still, he hesitated. "Why now, Fraser? Don't get me wrong, I want this, but I need to know why you changed your mind."

"I love you, and I need you to know that, to know it completely." Fraser dipped his head, sniffing the side of his neck and then whispering, "Please, Ray, let me replace his touches, my love for his hate, pleasure to erase the pain."

Eyes stinging, Ray nodded, craving Fraser more than ever, wishing like hell it was only that simple. "Sure. I'd like that. Touch away."

"You need to tell me if I do anything you don't like. I know this is all new to you."

"Kissing and touching, that's not new, Fraser. Sure, you've got some stuff Stella didn't have, but that doesn't make this all that different. It's just been a while since there's been any good stuff, you know?"

"I'd never want to hurt you."

"You won't. I trust you."

Fraser leaned back in, his tongue teasing Ray's lower lip before a brief kiss. Then his head dipped down as he licked and kissed Ray's throat, around the side of his neck, and then his ear. Ray whimpered, shuddering with each new nip. Fraser's hand slid down beneath the covers, slipping under the elastic of the boxers, wrapping Ray's cock. Ray jerked with the contact, arching up, and moaning in pleasure.

"Easy, Ray, not so fast."

"Fast, slow, it don't matter. God, it just feels so fucking good." Ray gulped for air as Fraser's hand fondled his balls while his talented mouth found his right nipple. His mind exploded with joy, his skin buzzing with nothing but good feeling, with stars blasting off in his head. "It's been so fucking long, so fucking long. Jesus, it's so good."

Body trembling, Ray squeezed his eyes shut, lost in overwhelming sensations as Fraser slipped off his boxers. His cock ached for release too soon, sweat already slicking his skin. His thighs trembled as he opened his legs wider, just enough, wanting more than anything to be touched, to be sucked, to have Fraser really want to do this.

The cover pulled away and cold air hit Ray's exposed flesh, but didn't ease the tension. The bed shifted as Fraser licked his way down past his belly button, slow and easy, his tongue leaving a trail of wet heat. Fraser fisted his cock with one hand and then teased the tip with his tongue. Ray moaned deeper, his hips lifting, his heels dug into the bed. "Jesus. Oh, yeah, suck me. Please."

Without hesitation, Fraser did just that, his mouth taking him in, taking him in not just a few inches, but nearly all the way. His head bobbed up and down, the pressure almost too much as Fraser's hand rolled his balls at the same time. No way could he hold out, not with that, not with Fraser sucking him better than he'd ever been sucked in his life, not with Fraser's mouth the best thing he'd ever felt. Sweet Jesus, he wanted to scream, but the cries burned to ashes in his throat. He couldn't stop, didn't want to, bowing his back and falling over the edge into bright flashes of light. Jolts of release whipped through him, every cell coming at once, every muscle trying to jerk at the same time.

And Fraser never let go, never released him the whole time. Fraser didn't come up for air until the spasms stopped and even then he kept licking and sucking. Ray's dick all but whimpered, all but begged for more than it could handle. Greedy cock never wanted to leave that spot, that beautiful place, that freely offered sanctuary from thought. He thrust a few more times and actually came again, small this time, but longer, tingles all up his belly. His brain blew up, just blanked out while he caught his breath enough to barely whisper, "Sweet Jesus, Fraser."

Fraser lifted his head and smiled, his lips puffy and wet. "Yes, Ray?"

"Where the fuck did you learn to do that?"

"Is it important?"

Ray chuckled. "No, just so long as you do it again." Ray's whole body checked in, high-fiving the man for finally getting some good touch. Reaching out, Ray pulled Fraser closer and kissed him, shocked by the salty flavor, realizing he tasted himself. "I should've warned you so you didn't have to swallow."

"I like swallowing."

Fraser didn't even blush, but Ray did. "Well, I guess that's okay then."

"It certainly is." Fraser sighed contentedly as he rested his head on Ray's chest. "I was afraid I might hurt you because of your thigh, but it didn't seem to be a problem."

"Hell, Fraser, you suck my dick and you could skin me alive and I'd never feel it."

Fraser snorted, rubbing his face in Ray's sweater with amusement. "I'll keep that in mind, Ray."

"Yeah, you do that. Now, you need to sit back and let me take care of business for you."

Fraser lifted his head. "You don't have to do that, Ray."

"I want to. I mean, I know I'm not up to sucking cock yet, but I do think I could manage a hand job." Ray lowered his voice, husky and raw. "Would you like that, Fraser? Would you like me to do that, to handfuck your dick until you get off?"

Fraser's face flushed at the coarse words, but he nodded, obviously even more aroused than before. He liked dirty talk as much as Ray did, and that pleased Ray, made him even more hot. "I think I'd like that very much, but I think I need to shift over to the other side of the bed so you can use your right hand."

"And take your clothes off, Fraser. I want to see you."

Swallowing hard, Fraser didn't hesitate a bit, just swung his legs over the side of the bed and stripped off his undershirt and boxers. He stood there completely naked, his uncut cock hard and leaking. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscles all firm and proportioned covered with creamy, white skin made for a damn fine looking Canadian. "Oh, man, Fraser, you've got a great body, not that I'm surprised or anything, but, fuck, you're good looking."

"As are you, Ray."

"You're a freak, Fraser, but that kind of works in my favor. And I can see you're really happy to be here."

Fraser glanced down at his erect cock and sat down on the edge of the bed, his voice breathy. "I've wanted to be with you like this for such a long time, Ray. Happy doesn't adequately describe what I'm feeling."

"And I'm really glad about that." Ray pulled Fraser closer on the bed, leaning him back on the pillow. "Put your hands behind your head."

"Ray?"

"Trust me, Fraser. Just do it."

Reluctantly, Fraser put both hands behind his head, his eyes never leaving Ray's. "Just relax. This is something I know how to do."

"I trust you, Ray, I'm just curious as to why I need to have my hands behind my head."

"Discipline."

"Discipline?"

"Yeah, I want you to feel it, to see it, but not touch, not while I'm jerking you off. Just let me do the work and you enjoy it. It'll be good. You'll see. And you can talk if you want, tell me how it feels, tell me you want it."

"I do want it, Ray, very much. But I have to confess, I'm not very good at talking during sex like you are."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. It's just, well, if I talk, it takes me out of the moment."

Ray nodded, taking that in, considering the whole situation. "Did it bother you when I talked?"

"Not at all. In fact, I found it arousing."

Ray grinned and touched the top of Fraser's cock with his fingers, sliding back the foreskin to tease the slippery tip. "You did, huh?"

Fraser's head fell back as he hissed with pleasure, his breathing faster. Ray decided on mercy. He reached for the lotion by the bed and squirted some in his right hand. Then he kneeled next to Fraser, who watched his every move, his eyes nearly black with wanting. "Oh, yeah, you dig this, I can tell. You do, right, you want this?"

"Yes, Ray. Please."

Nodding, Ray leaned over and kissed him, met his tongue and enjoyed his own heat. He loved kissing Fraser, the man's mouth so fucking hot, he couldn't stop tongue-diving for more. At the same time, he found Fraser's cock, silky, but thickly veined. It nearly singed his hand as it throbbed and grew even harder. One part of his mind concentrated on capturing Fraser's tongue, his lips, his whole face while the other let his hand slip up and down, sliding and using just enough pressure to feel the pulse. He rubbed and stroked, let Fraser thrust and push into his hand, let him set the rhythm. Fraser panted out his name as his breath hitched with one final rut into Ray's fist, come shooting out all over the place. Falling back against the pillow, Fraser lay limp, his face red and his body glistening with sweat.

Ray grabbed some tissues by the bed, wiping off his hand first and then getting some more to clean up Fraser. His partner remained quiet, almost too quiet. Ray pulled the covers up over Fraser and then shifted to lie beside him, his head on his chest, his own eyes closed. "You okay?"

"Okay doesn't do justice to what I'm feeling, Ray."

"Good, huh?"

"Magnificent." Fraser shifted his legs slightly and kissed the top of Ray's head before relaxing again. "Thank you. I love you."

"The feeling's mutual."

The quiet stretched between them and Ray sighed, relieved and really happy for the first time since Stella left him. "I've missed this."

"Sex?"

"That, too, but no, the touching. I've missed the touching, being close, having someone to sleep with. I never sleep good alone. Ever since I was little, I liked having someone to be with even if it's just in the same room."

"All humans need touch, Ray, and I have to agree, I've missed such intimate contact as well."

"Then it's a good thing we found each other, huh?"

"I'd have to agree. I'm very grateful that we did, indeed, find each other."

"You ever wonder about stuff like that, Fraser, that whole fate thing, like did fate mean for us to get together, like did fate plan this whole Vecchio undercover thing just so we could get to be partners?"

"There are some beliefs that support the idea that each person has a destiny, that there is a universal plan for all of us."

"That's not what I asked. Do you think about it? Do you believe it?"

"I think about it, yes, but I don't believe it."

Ray shifted uneasily, but didn't pull away. "How come?"

"To believe that fate rather than free will controls our destinies would demand that there be a cosmic force that not only allows for the presence of evil, but actually supports such acts. Personally, I can't accept that."

Shrugging, Ray took a deep breath and closed his eyes, suddenly very sleepy. "Yeah, but destiny sounds a lot more romantic than fat chance."

"Yes, Ray, it does." An arm pulled him closer. "Sleep. We'll talk more later on."

"We should get up. Do something. Go get Turtle."

"We've still got time to get Turtle."

"Yeah?"

"The vet closes at six. I'll wake you before then and we'll bring him home."

"Good. Good. I miss the little guy, probably thinks I've forgotten all about him."

"Rest, Ray. Turtle will be fine."

The world faded, Fraser's steady heartbeat like a soft lullaby luring him to sleep safe and sound for the first time in a very long time. Ray settled in and dreamed of a world full of happy turtles and wolves living together, a place where he didn't have to worry about hiding from the ghosts that still haunted his life.

"You think we should stop and get the tank and stuff before we pick up Turtle?"

Fraser glanced at the clock and shook his head. "Not if we want to get Turtle today. We've got less than an hour to get there."

"We should've gotten the tank this morning." Ray ran a trembling hand through his hair, his whole body shaky and anxious. "You think we should get a bigger tank or stick with the same size?"

Fraser stepped beside him and slipped an arm around his middle, drawing him close for a quick kiss. "Ray, calm down. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. Nothing's wrong. I'm just, I don't know, a little wired, that's all."

"I can see that, but why? Are you worried about what we did?"

Ray met his eyes, his face suddenly less strained. "No way. That was great, better than great. It was greatness. I'd like to do it again first chance we get. No, it's this whole tape thing. I don't want to think about it, but it just keeps slipping in. I still can't go boxing or dancing, so I figure maybe I'll set up Turtle's tank and clean the apartment. I need to keep busy."

Fraser sighed and rested his chin on Ray's shoulder. "We'll fix Turtle's tank together. If you want to clean, we can do that, but you shouldn't overdo it. You're supposed to be resting."

"Yeah, I know. I just hate feeling trapped in my head."

"Trapped in your head?"

"Yeah, you know, like how you get something going round and round like a scratched CD, repeating shit over and over? When I'm not busted up, I can block it out by doing something else, going to the gym, working out. Being a cop works, too. Nothing like chasing down scumbags to take you outside yourself, but now I feel trapped, like I can't get away from me when I need to." Fraser squeezed him gently, thoughtful, but not saying anything. "What?"

"Nothing. We need to go get Turtle."

"It's not nothing. What were you thinking?"

Pulling away, Fraser took a deep breath, obviously measuring his words carefully. "It's just that distracting oneself doesn't really resolve the troubling issue."

"I know that, but it's what I do, it's what works. Been doing it for ages."

"It might work temporarily, but it doesn't really work, not in the long run."

"Long run? Who the fuck can do long run? Not me. Not now. I just need to handle what's going on today, right now, this minute." The words bunched up and worked up speed. "You can fuck long run, Fraser. I'm got too much to deal with and long run just doesn't cut it, not by a long shot." Ray walked away, his body tight as he paced. "So, if I want to clean or kick the wall, that's what I need to do to get though it, okay? Don't give me any shit about long run."

"I understand, Ray. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know. I know. It's not you."

Fraser nodded and stepped to the hall closet. He got his leather jacket and grabbed Ray's, too. A rattle came from the pocket. Puzzled, he reached in and pulled out the brown bottle. He held it up, his voice hard, accusing. "Who the hell is Marcus Weldman?"

"Who?" Ray stepped closer, stalling when he saw the bottle in Fraser's hand. "Fuck."

"You want to explain this?"

"It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing, Ray. It looks like illegal narcotics. According to the label, it's the same painkiller you take only this prescription is made out to a Marcus Weldman. So, I'll ask again, who the hell is Marcus Weldman?"

"It's not what you think."

"You mean you're not in possession of illegal drugs?"

"Well, yeah, but they're not mine."

"They were in your pocket."

"Yeah, but they're not mine."

Fraser shook his head, his face flushed with anger. "Ray, don't lie to me."

Ray suddenly stood straighter. "You think I'm lying?"

"The evidence would support such a conclusion."

"But you know me."

"Yes, Ray, I do. I think that's the point."

The words iced Ray's skin, his gut tighter. He hated that Fraser didn't believe him, that after all this time, he still didn't really trust him. "I've got a prescription for the same damn stuff, so what difference does it make where it came from?"

"It makes a difference and you know it."

"You really think I'd lie to you about something like this? The stuff's not mine. I can explain if you'll just give me one damn minute without jumping to conclusions."

Frowning, Fraser met his eyes briefly, and then walked around him to the kitchen. He put the bottle on the table like evidence in front of a perp. "Tell me how you got these and what you were planning to do."

Ray stood across the table from Fraser, wishing like hell he'd never fucking met Jason Hayes. "It's a long story, but you need to know, I was planning to flush those. I just forgot when you showed up talking about the tape. I got distracted, that's all."

Fraser's voice lost its edge as he leaned forward, his arms braced on the table. "Why do you even have them?"

"A kid of an old friend of mine saw me at Lila's. He wanted to do me a favor."

"A favor? He wanted to give you drugs as a favor?"

"Just let me finish."

Nodding, Fraser stood up and crossed his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm just upset."

"I know. I'm sorry, too. I swear to God, I wasn't going to keep them."

"You said that."

Ray took a deep breath and then started pacing. "There's this kid, Jason, the son of this guy I worked with. He saw me at Lila's. Said he thought I could use something to take the edge off."

"Did this young man know you were a police officer?"

"Yes."

"And he offered to sell you drugs?"

"He didn't sell them. He gave them to me, sort of as payback."

"Payback for what?"

Ray kept moving, his body too tense, his heart racing. "It's fucked up, Fraser. He wanted to say thank you for helping out his buddy Conover over at the one seven, so he passed these off from some friend of his. I'm figuring that would be the Weldman guy."

"And he thought giving you narcotics was an appropriate gift?"

"I don't think he was thinking."

"Obviously."

"Anyway, I couldn't arrest him, not without getting his dad into it, so I confiscated the pills and told him I'd kick his ass if he did it again." Ray stopped moving and stared at Fraser. "I swear I did not go looking."

"But you kept them." The words were as hard as any slap.

Ray's breath hitched, his eyes stinging as he nodded. "Yeah, I kept them. I thought I'd throw them out when I got home, or at least that's what I told myself."

"Dear God, Ray. You could've been arrested."

"I know, I know. I should've tossed them down a sewer grate first chance I got. They're just too damn tempting. I fucking know that. I'm sorry."

"Legally, we should turn this over for evidence."

"I can't do that."

Nodding, Fraser's jaw clenched. He picked up the bottle and turned toward the sink. He took off the top of the bottle and turned on the water. He poured some pills down the drain as Ray stepped up beside him. "I can do that."

Fraser handed him the bottle and watched quietly while Ray emptied it. Then he stepped away. "We should leave now or the veterinarian's office will be closed.

Ray grasped his arm and held him still. "I'm sorry."

"I know. We'll talk about this later." Fraser lifted his face and met his gaze. "I'm disappointed, Ray, and I'm angry. I need to process this before we discuss it again."

Sucker punched by the tough tone, Ray nodded, biting his lower lip, working hard to keep things together. "I fucked up. I'm really sorry."

"Like I said, Ray, later."

Fraser headed to the door, Ray one step behind him, wanting pretty much to kick his own head in for being such a fuck up.

Ray stood up, his back aching from the strain of lifting and fixing up the tank, making sure everything worked, everything fit just right. He winced, but still smiled in satisfaction as Turtle basked under his new light. His longtime pet looked like one fine and dandy little box turtle, sitting on his rock, just thinking all the neat things turtles might think about. "He looks good, Fraser. Thanks. You didn't have to spring for the bigger tank, but I think he likes it."

"I'm glad." Fraser's continued remoteness chilled him. His partner still wouldn't look at him as he stood by the stove, checking the oven and making some homemade ranch salad dressing. "Why don't you go wash up, Ray? Supper's almost ready."

"Sure. What are we having?"

"A Polynesian chicken and rice casserole with spinach salad."

Ray bit back his complaints about spinach, nastiest stuff on the whole damn planet, right up there with window putty and eggplant. Instead, he kept his voice light and appreciative. "Sounds good." Hesitating, he stepped closer. "Fraser, you still mad?"

Fraser finally turned toward him, not happy, but not quite as grim as before. "I'm not mad, Ray. We'll talk about what happened after we've eaten and we've had a chance to relax."

"Okay, okay, I can do that."

Ray hurried to the restroom and washed his right hand and the exposed fingers of his left hand, making sure to use plenty of soap since he'd spent an hour playing catch up with Turtle. He then brushed his teeth and hair, even thought about shaving, but overruled that thought pretty quickly. Fraser seemed to like him with a few whiskers. Scruffy worked for the Mountie.

He checked himself out in the mirror, wishing like hell he could airbrush out the lingering bruises and the scar across his throat. None of the other cuts showed, covered by his clothes and long sleeves, but that one across his throat looked more red now than it had earlier. He traced his finger along the raised edge and frowned, thinking maybe he could call Lila and ask about make up, something to cover it up until it faded. Stella had a little scar up near her hairline she used to blot out every morning with a little dab of something special like that. He could do the same thing and maybe he wouldn't look so much like someone with bad eyes stitched his head back on.

"Ray?" Fraser stood in the doorway, watching him and looking worried. "Are you okay? You've been in here a long time."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"About?"

"About those old Frankenstein movies, you know where they took parts from all those dead bodies and sewed them together again. I was just thinking I could try out for a job if they ever do remakes."

Pain showed in Fraser's eyes as he bit his lower lip. "You don't look like that, Ray."

"Yeah, well, you're a little biased on the subject. Lila did great on the hair, but she couldn't do much for the rest of this mess. I mean, I'm not blind. It's looks pretty awful."

"You look a lot better than you did and Dr. Barnes said the scar should disappear gradually."

"Key word there, gradually." Ray turned and pointed at the line that ran across his throat. "Does it look redder than before?"

Sighing, Fraser stepped closer, drawing Ray into his arms. He titled his head and kissed the scar, the touch electric. Ray let out a deep breath and waited for Fraser to lift his head. Their eyes locked. "I am so sorry, Fraser."

"I know. I'm sorry, too. I was just as angry with myself as I was with you."

"Why's that?"

Fraser stepped back and leaned against the doorframe. "I know what it's like to be scared, Ray."

"I don't get it. What's that got to do with being pissed about the pills?"

"When I got addicted before, it wasn't about the pain as much as the fear of the pain, the fear of feeling what I didn't want to feel. I wanted to numb myself. The thought of not having that escape was frightening." Fraser hesitated and then swallowed hard. "It's scary to think about facing one's fears with no crutch, no insulation from what you most don't want to contemplate. When I saw that bottle in the jacket, it made me remember all that. That's why I got angry, at least one of the reasons."

"And the other reasons?"

"You should never have put us in that position in the first place. You made me an accessory."

"Jesus, Fraser. I really didn't mean to."

"But mostly you should've told me."

"You're right. I should've. I'm sorry."

Fraser waited a fraction of a second and nodded. "Apology accepted. Now, let's eat. I don't have your metabolism, Ray. I must confess to being a bit hungry."

"That makes two of us. Now that I know you're not going to leave me, I think I can eat again, though I have to warn you, I don't think I can go for the spinach."

Fraser shook his head. "What?"

"Spinach. Can't stand it. Rather have that putty sandwich you tried to feed me that first day."

Ray started to step past him and Fraser captured his arm. "No, about leaving. What did you mean?"

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. Did you really think I'd consider leaving you because we argued?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you did." Shutting his eyes, his chest tight, Ray prayed to God Fraser forgave him. He didn't deserve it, didn't really rate a second chance, not when he'd fucked up so royally. It didn't change the fact that he wanted it, needed it, would die if he didn't get it.

"Ray, listen to me. What do I have to say to make you believe me, to make you know that I'm not going to leave you every time we disagree?"

Gulping, Ray shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just having a hard time understanding why you'd stay."

"Because I love you."

"Stella said she loved me, too, but she left." Again, Ray's fear screamed louder than hope, made his hands tremble as he worried that Fraser would give up, would wake up and realize it just wasn't worth all the hassle to keep banging his head against a brick wall called Kowalski.

Fraser's grip tightened as he turned Ray to face him. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, Ray lifted his head, Fraser staring intently. "I'm looking."

"Do I look like Stella?"

"No."

"Then don't assume that I'd ever leave because she did. I'm not Stella." Fraser's voice got even stronger, more intense. "Know this, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, I'm not leaving. If anyone walks out on this relationship, it's going to have to be you. Do you understand that?"

Ray took several deep breaths to find his voice. "Yeah, yeah, Fraser, I do. I get that."

"Good." Fraser used both hands to capture his face and then kiss him, his tongue aggressive and thorough. He pulled back and smiled sweetly. "That's settled then. Now, let's eat before Diefenbaker forgets all his good manners and eats the chicken before we can."

Relieved, Ray nodded and just followed, more than willing to give up his chicken for his wolf buddy and friend. Food didn't interest him, but he knew from that kiss that Fraser already had dessert planned.

Polynesian chicken translated into chicken with pineapple which made Ray's mouth water. For the first time in weeks, he actually ate greedily, though he didn't manage a whole piece. Still, it pleased him that Fraser went out of his way to make things he thought Ray might like, despite the attempt to foist spinach regardless of his protest. Ray picked at the salad. "I can't, Fraser. It's spinach."

"Spinach has a lot of iron, Ray. Dr. Barnes specifically said that you were anemic and needed foods rich in iron in addition to the supplements."

"Yeah, well, I can take a pill, but I can't eat this green stuff. I'm not Popeye."

"Popeye?"

"The sailor man."

"I presume that's some reference to a character in a recent film."

"Cartoon."

"A cartoon? And this animated Popeye has something to do with spinach?"

Ray smiled and shook his head. "I swear, you've lived a deprived existence, Fraser. Popeye ate spinach to give him super strength whenever the bad guys wanted to pound him or Olive."

"Olive?"

"His girlfriend."

"I see."

"And he'd eat a whole can of spinach and he be like Superman when the scumbags would show up, pow, pow, pow. I can't believe you've never seen Popeye."

"Actually, Ray, that's a rather clever analogy on the part of the animators in the sense that the high iron content does improve one's strength."

"It was a lie, Fraser, a lie to try to get kids to eat spinach."

Fraser put his fork down and grinned. "And did it work?"

"Once." Ray blushed slightly, ready to reveal one of his childhood secrets. "I begged my mom to buy it and then I tried to down a whole can just like Popeye. Puked my guts out. Nasty stuff."

"Well, it was a cartoon, Ray."

"I know and I was eight. I should've figured."

"Figured what?"

"Figured that you can't always believe what you see."

Fraser nodded knowingly. "A hard lesson at any age."

"You ever do something like that, Fraser? Ever see something and think, that's so cool, and then try to do it, too?"

"Several times." Fraser stood up and took his plate to the sink. "Would you like coffee?"

"Sure, but I want you to tell me about one of the times you learned a lesson."

Fraser sighed and shrugged as he served the coffee. "Would you like the last piece of pineapple upside down cake? I need to wash the dish and return it to Mrs. Walenski."

"You don't want to split it?"

"No, I'm quite full."

"Yeah, thanks."

Fraser gave him the cake and then sat down, his face back to serious. Ray ate and sipped coffee while Fraser spoke quietly. "It was a few years after I went to stay with my grandparents. I rarely saw my father, but sometimes he'd come by for a day or two. We didn't talk much, but I'd see him interact with other people. Once I saw him take down a perpetrator who was much larger than he was. I must say I was quite impressed by his prowess. A few weeks later after he left, I found myself confronted by a particularly unpleasant young bully, Ricky Brightarrow. My father made it look easy, so I was confident that I could also subdue someone much larger than myself by using the same techniques he'd used."

"Oh, man, Fraser. You get your ass whipped?"

"Very much so, yes."

"Been there, done that, wore the T-shirt through most of high school."

Fraser smiled weakly and looked up. "I learned, not for the first time, that I was, indeed, not my father. I learned that to master such skills took time and training and even then that in no way guaranteed the same level of expertise."

Ray pushed away his empty plate and sighed. "It's tough when guys pick on you growing up. I guess it's even worse when you feel like you should be invincible like your dad."

"My father was anything but invincible, Ray. He was murdered."

"Yeah, I know, though you couldn't tell that by the way he keeps popping up out of nowhere all the time. I just meant that when you were a kid, he must have seemed like that, tough and able to deal with anything."

"Except me or the loss of my mother." Fraser blinked several times, his eyes more red than they should be. He stood up and cleared the table, his back to Ray.

"It still bothers you, huh, how he left you alone so long?"

"He didn't leave me alone. I had my grandparents."

"But you said yourself, it wasn't the same, that they didn't really give you what you needed."

Fraser stopped working at the sink and turned around. He wiped his hands and then leaned back. "They did what they could, Ray. They never expected to raise a young boy after they'd already raised their own family before that. They were older and more set in their ways."

"But you had to be pissed that your dad just left you."

"Sometimes, but what good does that do, to be angry? He's dead. Being upset about it now doesn't change that it happened or my reaction to it as a child. In many ways, I was quite fortunate."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, I could've died with my mother or I could've been left to be raised by social services. Many girls and boys were. I never went hungry, never had to worry about shelter. Things could've been far worse. To be honest, I feel guilty even complaining about it."

"You don't have to feel guilty about your feelings, Fraser. From what you've told me, you had good reason to feel deprived. I mean, a good parent has to do more than just give food and shelter. There has to be love and affection, acceptance." Ray shifted uneasily as he thought of his own rift with his parents. "I mean, I know it's shit now, but when I was a kid my mom and dad, they made sure to let me know that they loved me no matter what."

"But that's not the case now apparently."

"Yeah, but now I'm older and I've got you. I can handle it now. Back then, well, I'd have been in a lot of trouble if I thought they didn't really want me or if they'd kept me cut off from people, not even let me go to school with other kids. Sure, some of the kids were assholes, but some were great, best friends and buddies. You've got to have that when you're growing up, Fraser, or you get stunted."

"Stunted?"

"Yeah, you know, you end up kind of fucked up, kind of freakish. Sure you learn to condensate, but you still get into trouble when it comes to people, when it comes to relationships because you don't know the ropes that you should've learned growing up."

"Condensate? Do you mean compensate?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

Fraser stepped to the table and sat down. "How do you think I compensate?"

"Being extra polite for one thing."

"Ray, I'm Canadian. It's a way of life."

"Fess up, Fraser. Even for a Canadian, you go over the line with the thank you kindlys and opening doors for little old ladies. Then there's Dief."

"What about Diefenbaker?"

"You talk to a wolf, Fraser."

"I don't see how you can consider that compensation for emotional underdevelopment."

"Your best friend is a wolf, a deaf wolf, and you talk to him in public. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm used to it, but that doesn't change the fact that it's weird, that you do it because you're more comfortable talking to a wolf than most people, at least the people here in Chicago. Tell me it wasn't the same up north. Tell me you'd rather talk to people than talk to Dief or sit alone in the woods. You can't tell me that, because it's not true."

Fraser put both hands on the table, palms down and flat, his face troubled. "I must confess talking with Diefenbaker often gives me a simplicity and clarity I don't always get from conversations with people." He lifted his head and met Ray's eyes. "But I do like talking to you and I enjoyed talking to Ray Vecchio. I suppose that's some progress."

"You and Vecchio, you were tight, I know. I could tell you were really upset when he took off without notice and you got me instead."

Fraser smiled. "You have no idea how confusing that was that first day. I was totally disoriented." He lifted his head and took Ray's hand. "You took my breath away from the very beginning."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yes. I thought you were quite mad, but somehow I couldn't take my eyes off you. I was captivated by your energy, by your exuberance, by the way you wore your jeans."

Ray laughed out loud. "My jeans, huh?"

"Oh, yes, Ray, you wear jeans quite nicely."

Shaking his head, Ray kept grinning. "I can't believe I missed that."

"Well, I wasn't exactly advertising, Ray."

"But you did ask me to dinner."

"Yes, I did. You did save my life that day, so it was the least I could do."

"Now I have to wonder if it was taking the bullet or the jeans that did it."

"Did what?"

"Got me my first date with the Mountie."

Fraser squeezed his hand. "It wasn't a date, Ray, not then."

"Hey, you tell your story, I'll tell mine. You took me out the first day you met me. Couldn't help yourself. Works for me."

"Revisionist history?"

"Romance."

"Ah."

"Enough with the ahs, or there'll be no romance in your immediate future."

Standing, Fraser nodded, his blue eyes bright and sparkling. "Let me finish the dishes, Ray, and we'll see about that."

The romance came later, another mutual coming, all bright and then tender. Ray sat up in bed next to Fraser, watching him sleep, wondering how in the hell he ever got to this, sleeping with his male partner. All his life he'd loved Stella, wanted her, burned for her like nobody's business, and then she left him cold, left him high and dry and almost too depressed to keep going. Now Fraser turned him around so fast he still got dizzy just looking at the man who kept saying he loved him, promised him forever. Ray couldn't quite take it all in if he thought about it too much, so he tried not to. But like so many things, trying and doing lived at opposite ends of the earth.

Ray watched Fraser lie there, on his back, so calm, so still, just breathing slow and even. Nobody slept as deep as Fraser did, nobody just dropped off and stayed there, letting the world go on around him like nothing could hurt him, like nothing could just slither in and make his life crazy.

Suddenly swallowing down bile, Ray slipped off the bed quickly and rushed to the bathroom. Once there, he shut the door, turned on the light, squinting at the sudden stabs to his eyeballs. He steadied himself and leaned over the toilet, not quite sure if wanted to throw up or just stuff his head in. The urge to vomit passed, but he stayed queasy. He turned around and dropped the lid. He sagged down and closed his eyes, needing to calm down, not sure if he ever could.

"Benton's a bright lad, always has been."

Jerking back, Ray stifled a yelp. "Shit. Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on a guy."

"It's not really sneaking when you're dead."

"You don't act dead."

"Well, there's dead and then there's really dead."

"So, you're saying you're not really dead?"

"No, I'm dead."

Ray closed his eyes briefly, praying for patience. "Why are you here?"

"Just wanted to help. You're troubled. Even a dead man can see that."

Suddenly angry, Ray shook his head. "I'm better."

Fraser Senior stood in the corner, hands behind his back, and huffed. "You're as bad as Benton, always forgetting that I know what you're thinking."

"Yeah? How do you do that, know what we're thinking?"

"That's not important."

Ray thought fuck you and rubbed his eyes.

"Language."

"I'm tired. What do you want?"

Fraser Senior stepped closer. He put his hand on Ray's shoulder and Ray swore he could feel it. Damn. "Like I said, my son has always been a bright boy. He loves you. Despite all the hardships, he's never been happier than he has been with you."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yes. I will admit to some doubts in the beginning. As you know Benton's not always made very reasonable choices when it came to partners."

"Love's not supposed to be reasonable."

Fraser's father squeezed his shoulder gently and then stepped back again. "Except for the aboriginal boy, I don't think he's ever been in love until now."

"You know about Innusiq?"

"I didn't then, but I do now. The other two, well, they were unfortunate choices and had little to do with love."

"And me?"

"You're different."

"You could say that."

"You're the perfect partner for my son. He's left and you're right. It's a good fit."

"Left, right?"

"Logic and intuition. It was the same for Buck Frobisher and myself. I had the reason and common sense and he lived on instinct, nothing but hunches. I'm not saying it was always easy. It wasn't. There were times when I wanted to strike the man dead, but he was a good partner, someone I relied on for years, would've continued to work with if I hadn't been murdered."

Ray nodded, recognizing the combination. "So you set'em up and this Buck guy knocked'em down, a one-two punch."

"Exactly."

"And that's me and Fraser?"

"Fraser and I."

"That's what I said."

Fraser Senior cracked his neck and nodded. "So you did. It's like you think in pictures and emotion, and he thinks in words, very rational, very orderly. You complement one another, both on the job and off."

"Was it that way with you and his mum?"

"Ah." Ray didn't snap at the ah, just waited, wondering why he could see and hear a dead man if he wasn't dreaming. "My wife was, indeed, very much like you, very much someone who preferred feelings and intuition to intellectual analysis. That's not saying she wasn't intelligent. She was, incredibly so. I'm not ashamed to say that Benton gets most of his brilliance from her."

"I wish I could've met her." He paused for a moment. "How come she never drops by?"

"Because she died some time ago. I thought Benton explained that."

"I don't get it. You're dead and she's dead, but we only see you."

"Well, I can't really explain that."

"Why not?"

"Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I'm omniscient. As for my wife, I keep hoping to run into her, but so far, I've seen very few people I knew from before."

"Except for me and Fraser." Nausea returned and Ray stood up, holding his stomach. "I might need a little privacy here."

"Don't be discouraged."

"Huh?"

"Mind over matter, Son."

Before he could argue, he lifted the lid quickly and retched, losing dinner and anything else he might have eaten in the last week or two. Fraser came in, his face still sleepy, but worried. "Ray?"

Ray didn't bother to answer, just dropped to his knees, his head hanging as he continued to vomit violently. Fraser ran water and put a cool cloth against the back of his neck. By the time he finished, Ray leaned back against the wall, not bothering to get up. His gut ached as he gasped in small breaths.

"Ray, what happened?"

"Sick to my stomach."

"I can see that."

Cold and clammy, Ray complained. "I don't feel so good, dizzy."

"We should call the doctor."

"No, don't." As soon as he said it, he got back to his knees in a hurry and started in again, dry heaving and wishing someone would just shoot him in the head and be done with it. He stopped and fell back, holding his belly.

Fraser kneeled beside him, handing him a glass of cool water. "Try to drink this."

"I'll just puke again."

"I'm calling Dr. Barnes."

"It's the middle of the night."

"It's either that or the ER."

Sighing, trying to catch his breath, he nodded. "Okay. No hospitals."

"We'll see."

Fraser left him briefly, but Ray didn't move, didn't even try to get back to bed, not with his stomach doing a great imitation of white water rafting.

In a matter of minutes Fraser returned, pale. "He says it might be a reaction to the antibiotics. Do you have a rash anywhere?"

"Not that I know of." Ray endured the quick inspection, Fraser lifting his sweatshirt and checking his bare legs.

"Good. No rash. What about swallowing? Do you have trouble swallowing or is your tongue swollen?"

"No, no, just sick to my stomach and dizzy, really dizzy and cold."

"He said we could try some Phenergan to help with the nausea and vomiting, but that if that didn't work, you should return to the hospital. In any case, he wants you in first thing in the morning for blood work and an examination."

"Fuck."

"Ray, are you going to be sick again or can we risk getting you back to the bed?"

"Bed." He allowed Fraser to get him to his feet and back to bed, too weak to stand up for very long on his own. Under the covers, he lay back, propped against the pillows, still clutching his stomach, his eyes closed.

Fraser came back holding a small box. "Dr. Barnes gave me this in case this happened."

Frowning, Ray looked at the foiled packet that Fraser took out of the box. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

"You can't keep anything down, Ray. It's the best way to administer the medication."

"No."

"Then it's the ER where they can give you either an IV or a shot. It's your choice, Ray."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. This sucks."

"I agree. If you'll roll over on your side, I'll insert it. You should feel better soon even though it says here, you might get very sleepy."

"No, I'll do it."

"Ray..."

"I said, I'll do it."

Reluctantly, Fraser handed him the opened suppository and a latex glove, his voice more hushed. "Ray, it has to be inserted rather deeply. I'm not sure you can do that on your own."

"Just go away, okay? It's bad enough I have to do this, I don't want you to see me."

Puzzled, Fraser bit his lower lip. "I don't understand. We've been intimate. How is this any different? There's no reason to be embarrassed."

"Trust me, Fraser, it's different. Now, please, just give me a minute to do this."

"As you wish." Obviously hurt, Fraser turned and went into the bathroom, shutting the door, but not completely.

Ray heard the water run before he slipped on the glove. He reached down between his legs and pushed in the suppository. As Fraser predicted, it wasn't easy, but he managed. It burned as he clenched his ass, holding it in, hoping like hell it'd make the vertigo go away. The thought of ending up in the hospital again almost made him puke one more time, but instead, he called out. "Fraser. It's okay. You can come back now."

Returning, Fraser took the glove and threw it away. Then he went back to the bathroom and washed his hands. He came back and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding out a glass of water. "Drink this. You can't afford to get dehydrated."

The aftertaste from being sick made the water awful, but he drank it, knew that if he didn't, there was no telling what Fraser would do next. When he finished, he gave the glass back. "Thanks."

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you wake me when you got sick?"

"You were sleeping."

"I should've heard you."

"Even you sleep, Fraser. Give yourself a break."

"Then next time wake me."

"Sure." He didn't want to fight, rehash why he didn't want an audience to puking his guts out. "Your dad was here again."

Fraser shook his head, impatient not with Ray but with the interference by his dead father. "What did he want this time?"

"To tell me about partnerships, to tell me that we're a great team." The drug worked fast, a lot quicker than he expected, thank God. Already groggy and less sick, Ray ran a finger up and down Fraser's forearm. "You're logic, I'm instinct."

"Like that's a newsflash."

"He said that's why we do so great together. He and this Buck guy were like that." Ray hesitated, but added, "He said your mom was a lot like me, intuitive."

Fraser turned his head and stared at Ray before his face softened, his brow smoothed out. "I wish I could say I remembered. It was so long ago and I was so young when she died. She liked singing and had a great voice. I do remember how beautiful and kind she was, how she wasn't afraid to show me affection and love. I guess in a way, that's one of the things I admire about you the most, your fearlessness when it comes to showing your emotions. Nobody has to wonder what you're really feeling most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"Well, you do tend to show anger when you're really afraid, but still, you don't hold anything back. I like that."

"You do, huh?"

"Very much."

Ray closed his eyes, suddenly more than a little sleepy, but not quite ready to give up the fight. "It's funny."

"What?"

"One of the things I like about you is how cool you can be, how you seem to hold it all together when things get rough. I fall apart, but you're right there, solid."

"Is that what you think? That I'm cool and solid?"

Ray didn't like the defensive tone, but kept his eyes closed. "Look, I know it's a front, that you feel things just like anybody else."

"I do, Ray. I'm just not comfortable showing it, not in public, not like you."

"I know, and that's what I'm saying. It's okay. It's you."

Fraser took his hand, holding it to his chest. "The medicine seems to be working."

"Must be. I feel weird."

"Weird."

"Floaty, like being really drunk without spinning."

Brushing back his hair, Fraser kissed his forehead and then his lips. "Go to sleep, Ray. Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning."

"Sure." As Fraser stood up, Ray captured his hand again in a near panic. "Don't go."

"I was just going to clean up and then come back to bed."

"Oh, okay. Good. I'll be here."

Another quick kiss and Fraser pulled up the covers and left. Ray scooted down further in the bed, stretching out and relaxing, hearing the sounds of Fraser and his father fussing softly in the other room.

Continued in Part Three

End BYGONES Part Two by Grey: Grey853@aol.com

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