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

Disclaimer:

Author's Notes: This story first appeared in the zine BODY HEAT #2.

Story Notes:

Swallowing Thunder
by Grey

The day needed a good kick in the head and a solid boot in the ass wouldn't hurt, either. Ray rolled over with a groan, his mouth fuzzy with stale scotch and bad dreams, the kind of nightmares that skinned away a simple man's courage right down to his balls. Fraser's dream catcher might have an eagle feather and all kinds of Canadian mojo, but it didn't do shit for these bad boys. But then nothing could, not even the thought of his friend making something so special, so very Fraser-like, for his birthday, well, Vecchio's birthday, but his now, not that it mattered.

Fuck birthdays and funerals and all those special occasions in between. Who needed reminders? Not Ray Kowalski, that was for damn sure.

The sharp edge of the day sliced at Ray's eyeballs, the lingering ache all too familiar. He peeked out, testing the morning light little by little, easing into waking so his head would stay on his shoulders, the best place for it. He didn't need it up his ass any more than it had to be.

Sitting up slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the sofa and the world suddenly tilted at a weird angle. He dropped his face to his hands, swallowing thunder, the crack of the storm raging all over his body. Memories like lightning flashes zapped at his scars, his skin buzzed with the awfulness of remembering what he so didn't want to remember, not today, not with grief such a heavy-handed motherfucker stripping his nerves raw. After a few moments, he reached out for the Isle of Mull single malt scotch and took a long drink straight from the bottle, the liquid heat a jump start to the day he wanted no part of, a day with a history that never stopped.

The knock at the door reverberated through his skull, each contact a hammer blow to jagged bone. He took a deep breath and stayed quiet as the rapping continued. After a few minutes, he surrendered and stood up, his legs shaky, and walked to the door. As he opened it, Fraser smiled, beaming perfect white teeth, a grocery bag in his arms. "Good morning, Ray."

"Not a good morning, not even close, not even in Canada. I told Welsh I was taking a sick day."

"So you did. May I come in?"

Sighing, bowing to the inevitable, Ray stepped aside far enough to allow Fraser and Dief to enter. As he closed the door, his partner stood for a few moments scanning the mess of his apartment, his smile gone. The wolf leaped onto his favorite chair, circled a few times, and then pretty much hunkered down, watching both men with that ever vigilant canine vision.

For the first time Ray noted the replacement of his friend's usual red uniform with casual clothes, jeans, white T-shirt, and that worn, brown leather jacket that Fraser sometimes wore, the soft leather way too inviting. Ray cleared his throat and closed off the flood of never you mind images he couldn't allow himself to imagine. "What do you want, Fraser? I've got things to do."

Fraser turned and studied him, his face calm as he put the groceries down on the one clean spot on the kitchen table. "I'm here to be helpful."

"I'm sick, Fraser. That's what taking a sick day means. I stay in bed. I get better. There's no helpful to it."

"You rarely take a sick day, Ray. Such behavior seems quite the aberration. I thought it prudent to come and evaluate the situation first hand."

"Aberration? Jesus, Fraser, you make my head ache." Ray moved past his partner and slumped down on the sofa. He closed his eyes, keeping his voice steady. "Just go home. I don't need a nurse and if I did, she'd wear a black leather miniskirt and garters."

"I fail to see why a nurse dressed in such fashion would be any more effective than a healthcare professional dressed in a more traditional manner, Ray. In fact, I would think such attire would be quite distracting."

"That's the whole point. Such attire would distract the hell out of me, distract me to the point of forgetting I feel like shit, okay? Get it? Distraction is a good thing, a very good thing for most of us, most of us humans anyway. Or don't they have sexual fantasies up in the far reaches of the Yukon?"

"I'm sure they do. I just thought maybe an infusion of bark tea might be more therapeutic."

Ray snorted and shook his head, smiling to himself despite the pain of moving too quickly. "You're unhinged, Fraser, completely unbalanced, just plain wacky."

"So I've been told."

Suddenly more serious, Ray wanted to reach for the bottle again, but held off. Drinking in front of Fraser first thing in the morning just didn't seem right somehow. "Go home, Fraser. I want to be alone."

"I realize that, Ray. I just don't think that's a good idea at the moment."

"Why's that?"

"From your disheveled appearance, I can ascertain that you've had trouble sleeping. You reek of alcohol and there's a nearly empty bottle nearby. Therefore, I can assume you've been drinking both last night and first thing this morning. This would lead me to believe you don't need to be alone as much as you need to talk about what's bothering you. I'm your partner, Ray. Tell me why you've deviated from your normal routine so you can damage your health in such a disturbing manner."

"Deviated? Sure, I'm deviated. It's a sick day. I'm deviated like crazy. Now go away, Fraser. Just for today. You do your thing, I'll do my thing, and never the two things shall meet."

"Ray, what thing are you talking about?"

"Thing, Fraser, your thing and my thing and, fuck, I don't believe I just said that."

"Said what? I'm not sure I understand."

"Of course not. Just go away."

"Perhaps if you attend to routine personal hygiene while I fix you some breakfast, you'll feel more inclined to share your troubles."

"And perhaps not." Ray opened his eyes and noted the genuine concern in his partner's deep blue eyes. His throat tightened and the words came out raspy and rough. "I'm good, Fraser. I just need some time alone, that's all. There's nothing going on here that a day off won't cure. I'm just hunky-dory." He paused at Fraser's skeptical expression. "Okay, okay, so I'm not so good, but I will be once I sleep it off."

"You need to drink plenty of water, Ray. Dehydration leads to some serious problems after the consumption of large amounts of alcohol."

"I'm not hung over. Hell, I'm not even sober yet." He didn't add that he didn't plan to be sober anytime that day. Instead, he just motioned toward the door once again. "Just go away, Fraser, and I'll be in tomorrow, good as new, the same old fun-loving partner you've come to love and enjoy. I'll round us up a whole bushel of bad guys to make up for it, I promise."

Instead of leaving, Fraser stepped closer, his voice softer. "Ray, I read the file. I know what today is."

"You don't know shit, don't have a clue, and I don't want your fucking pity."

"Why should I offer pity, Ray, when you've got self-pity down to a fine art?"

Startled by the hard tone, Ray met Fraser's stubborn stare and struggled to find his voice. "You don't understand."

"Maybe not, but if you'll talk about it, perhaps I will." Fraser settled on the sofa beside him, his body turned slightly toward Ray's. "Tell me about Bradley R. Jenkins. Tell me about your partner."

"He's dead and buried, eating dirt. Thanks to me, he's worm meat, or didn't the file mention that little detail?"

"You're mistaken. You were in no way responsible for your partner's demise. According to the file, you did everything to save him. You risked your own life and were even wounded."

"But I didn't save him, not even close. And it's my fault. He didn't want to go on that bust, but me, me, I have to go kick some teeth in. So we go barreling in, guns drawn, real fucking cowboys. And for what? So my partner could bleed to death over some two-bit collar? It's a joke, a fucking cosmic knee-slapper, and Ray Kowalski's the punch line."

"Nobody's laughing, Ray. You did your job. Nobody blames you."

"I blame me. I'm an idiot. I should've called for back up."

"You had no reason to believe the drug deal would require a large contingent to control the situation. On the information you had, it appeared to be a simple exchange of currency for illegal product. There's no way you could've known the meeting included so many malfeasants."

"All with guns, huge guns, Fraser, with big caliber bullets." The words choked. "He bled to death in my arms. He had a family, a wife named Betty and two boys, Jimmy and Mikey, seven and five. I used to have dinner at his house, just part of the family. We'd have pot roast and more potatoes than you can shake a stick at and the kids would giggle and fuss and never shut up. And he loved basketball, even though he sucked really bad most of the time." The world stalled. "He was my partner and I got him killed."

"What else could you have done that you didn't do?"

"I could've died instead of him, taken the bullet and let him have a chance to get away."

"Would he have left you there to save himself?"

"Of course not."

"Then why would your partner expect you to get killed, too, when it wouldn't have made a difference in the outcome of the case?"

A fist clenched Ray's heart. "I keep going over it and over it in my head, the screams, the shots, the stench of the whole deal, and I can't sort that out yet. I just know that losing a partner hurts like hell. Even losing Stella didn't hurt this bad, and you and I both know that shit hurt like a son of a bitch."

"Didn't Stella leave you shortly after your partner's death?"

"You can't blame her for that. Things got really tough between us. I don't blame her, honest. I mean, I started drinking and worked extra shifts, taking undercover assignments for months at a time. She had her job, moving up, getting all fancy. Why would she need a bum like me, some simple Joe who didn't know the difference between escargot and snails?"

"There is no difference, Ray."

"Sure there is. One costs a fortune, all prettied up on fine china, and the other's swimming around in pond scum, a dime a dozen. There's a difference, Frase, a big difference. Don't tell me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"The point is, Stella needed more, more everything, more pizzazz, you know? And she deserves it, too, for putting up with my lame ass for fifteen years." He paused and took a deep breath. "I still love her though, always will, no denying that."

"Understood, Ray. We can't control who we love even when sometimes that feeling isn't reciprocated. Even worse, we sometimes fall for the most inappropriate people."

Ray stared at him for a moment and tilted his head. "We're not talking about Stella and me anymore, huh?"

"No, we're not."

"Victoria, the runaway crook?"

"For one."

"Who's the other?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Why not?"

Clearing his throat, obviously avoiding the topic, Fraser met his gaze. "We should be dealing with why you still take this day off each year to participate in such a self-destructive memorial. Large consumption of alcohol destroys a massive amount of brain cells, Ray. In addition, the damage to your liver can be quite significant. As your acting partner, I'm seriously concerned about your emotional and physical well being."

Head slightly more cleared, Ray sat up a little straighter. "I'm more interested in that inappropriate person you love. Who is it, the Ice Queen?"

Fraser flushed. "That would, indeed, be very inappropriate."

"You're telling me. She'd eat you alive. I know her type."

"What type would that be?"

"A ball buster. There was this shift captain, Captain Swanks, over in the three-four. She used to find an excuse to pinch my ass every chance she got. Wasn't half bad to look at, but, jeez, old enough to be my mom."

"Did you file charges?"

"For what?"

"For sexual harassment. Obviously, she tried to take advantage of a subordinate. There are regulations against such outlandish behavior."

Ray shrugged. "I just went undercover and then transferred. It didn't come up again. I'm just saying Thatcher reminds me of Swanks, all boss and gloss, you know? Always looking at you like she's taking your clothes off."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating, Ray."

"I'm not, not even a little. She strips you down with her eyes when you're not looking, but then again, so does Frannie and every other woman at the station. Hell, even some of the men do it, not that that's hard to figure, Frase. Unlike me, you're not hard on the eyes. They all want a piece of the Canadian, sort of like prize-winning bacon, only without the calories."

"You're being unfair, Ray. If you don't mind my saying so, you're not hard on the eyes, either."

"You calling me attractive?"

"Perhaps."

"I asked you that once before."

"And I prevaricated, I know."

"Prevaricated?"

"Evaded, quibbled, dissembled."

"Dissembled? Jesus, Fraser, even your definitions use big words."

"I'm sorry, Ray."

"Don't be. It's not your fault you've got the vocabulary of the Spinx."

"Do you mean Sphinx?"

"Spinx, Sphinx, whatever. You know what I mean."

"I think I do, yes."

"So, you find me attractive?"

"Very much so, yes."

"And is that as a woman or as a man?"

"As a man, Ray."

"Good, because I'm not even going to ask about that little comment you made in the crypt about being a woman once."

"I'll tell you about it if you want."

"Yeah?"

"Certainly. I was on the trail of..."

"Never mind."

"It's an interesting story, Ray. It might take your mind off of other things."

"I doubt it. My mind's pretty crowded right now, stuffed full of shit I don't want to think about, shit that just keeps busting my ass over and over."

"You are not to blame for your partner's death."

"Maybe, maybe not. In my head I know that I did everything I could and then some. In my heart, it still hurts."

"Of course, it hurts. He was your partner. That loss never goes away. We just learn to live with it without causing ourselves irreparable damage. Drinking is not the answer. It doesn't make the loss easier to handle. In fact, I'd venture to say it only makes things more difficult since it alters your ability to think clearly and make rational judgments, critical skills for a police officer like yourself."

"Ever tried it?"

"No."

"Then excuse the fuck out of me, but you don't know shit. No way you can imagine how it takes the edge off and makes breathing doable when all you really want to do is stop breathing. No, you can't say shit about it, Fraser, not if you've never even tried it, not even once."

"You're quite determined to continue indulging then?"

"As soon as you leave, yeah."

"Why wait?"

"What?"

"Why wait? I'll join you."

Ray frowned. "But you don't drink."

"Drinking alone often indicates depression. If I drink with you, perhaps that condition will be less likely to persist."

"You're a freak, you know that?"

"So you've said. What's your preference? Should I get some glasses or do we drink straight from the bottle?"

"Neither. You're not drinking."

"I'm over 21, Ray. I think I can decide for myself."

"You could if you weren't crazy."

"I'm serious. I want to join you. Understanding the mental state of one's partner is important if we're going to be an efficient team. Drinking might give me the insight I need to understand what you're feeling."

Ray snorted and shook his head. "I'm not getting you drunk, Fraser, so forget about it. You've made your point."

"Have I, Ray? What point have I made?"

"That you're one stubborn Canadian."

"I don't see what my nationality has to do with it."

"All that snow and traipsing over glaciers makes you tenacious."

"Tenacious?"

"I've been reading the dictionary. So sue me."

"I'd never bring legal proceedings against you for improving your vocabulary. That would be just plain silly."

Laughing out loud, Ray grabbed his head. "Shit, don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Distract me. Hell, you didn't even need a miniskirt and garters to do it, either."

"I hope not. Garters are inordinately uncomfortable."

"More than the red uniform?"

"Indeed. Surprisingly, the buckles are quite binding in the most extraordinary places."

"And you know this because?"

"Because of the case which required that I dress up like a woman to go undercover at a rather exclusive private school. Ray and I were investigating the..."

Ray held up a hand, the good mood suddenly evaporated. "Enough. I don't want to hear about you and your other Ray. It's bad enough I have to masquerade as the guy. I don't want to think of you two working together."

"Why's that, Ray?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Just because, Fraser. Give it a fucking rest."

Fraser stayed quiet for just a moment, a short timeout before he persisted. "Could it be because you're jealous of the time I had with him?"

"Jealous? Me? You're losing it. I know he was your partner, just like I know he'll be that again as soon as his time is up doing whatever the hell they've got his ass doing now. I know about undercover, Frase. It's hard work being someone you're not. You have to get into that person's head and live it to make it real, but you've still got to keep yourself separate. Sometimes that's really, really hard, but you've got to do it, do it for the job, because the job comes first, no matter what. That's what it's all about."

"But you're not Ray Vecchio. You're totally different. I'd never get the two of you confused."

"Good, Fraser, because that makes one of us. Me, I get to thinking, this isn't a bad life. I can ditch the past, make a new start, no Stella, no emotional contacts. But then, bam, you come along and all that changes. You make everything so fucking hard sometimes."

"I do? How do I do that?"

Ray leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "A partner is a partner is a partner."

"I fail to see how an allusion to Gertrude Stein is relevant."

"Because it's not true. Partners aren't all the same. Some you like, some you lose, and some you want to hold onto forever, not give him back when the job's over, you know?" Ray closed his eyes against the painful reality. "I don't want to give you back. And I'm going to have to. It hurts too much to think about."

A strong hand touched his shoulder, squeezing gently. "You don't have to give me back."

"Vecchio might have something to say about that."

"Knowing Ray, that's quite true, but it won't be what you think he might say."

Ray turned and met the intense blue eyes. "What are you saying here, Fraser?"

"I'm saying that it stands to reason that he and I will always be friends and no doubt colleagues, but you're my partner, Ray, not him."

"Does he know that?"

"I'll be sure to tell him if he ever returns."

"What about Welsh and Thatcher? They might have something to say, too. I mean, when this assignment's over, I'm back to the trenches, up for grabs, Ray Kowalski, the man with a thousand faces."

"I suspect Lt. Welsh might be persuaded to ask for your permanent assignment at the station. Despite outward appearances, Lt. Welsh respects your work and your dedication to the job. As for Inspector Thatcher, well, to be honest, Ray, I don't think she really cares with whom I work as liaison officer as long as it doesn't directly interfere with my tasks at the Consulate."

"Are you saying you want me to stick around when Vecchio gets back?"

"Absolutely." Fraser squeezed his shoulder again and then pulled his hand away.

"You're not just saying that?"

"Of course not. You know I don't lie."

"I knew that." Ray shifted, resting his back against the arm of the sofa, the blurry edges of the world less out of focus despite his lack of glasses. "Fraser, do you really find me attractive?"

"I see we're back to that again."

"I'd never leave a bone like that alone, Fraser. You ought to know better than that by now. I'm a pit bull about shit like that, like my best friend and partner telling me such a wild thing. You saying that just to lift my spirits or what?"

"I'm saying it because it's the truth."

"Let me ask you another biggie then since we've gone all madcap all of a sudden. How inappropriate do you think I am?"

Fraser flushed and swallowed hard. "Inappropriate in what way, Ray?"

"I think you know exactly what way, and don't forget, Mr. I cannot tell a lie, who you're talking to here."

Closing his eyes, Fraser took a deep breath and spoke quietly. "You're inappropriate on so many levels, it's hard to know where to begin."

"How about starting with the fact I'm a man and you're a man and I didn't know Canadians did that sort of thing."

Fraser opened his eyes and frowned, not amused one bit. "You're being facetious, Ray. This is serious."

"I am serious. It gives a whole new meaning to the idea of you Mounties always getting your man."

"Ray..."

"Not to mention that as partners, we're only supposed to work together, no hanky-panky in the supply closet or restrooms or anything like that. Personal shit is strictly off limits."

"Correct."

"And I'm not exactly the type of guy even a girl would take home to meet the parents. I know Stella put it off for ages and her old man wanted it to be a whole lot longer, like when I was in the ground for instance."

"Both my parents are dead, Ray, but if they weren't, I'd be very proud to introduce you." Fraser tilted his head and met his gaze. "Well, at least after you cleaned up a little bit. I regret to have to say this, but your appearance is not quite up to your usual high standards."

Ray grabbed the front of his dirty sweatshirt and sniffed it, making a face. "No, huh?"

"Not even close." Fraser motioned toward the watchful wolf. "Diefenbaker didn't want to say anything so as not to hurt your feelings."

"A sensitive wolf. Go figure."

"Ray, why don't you go take a shower and I'll fix some breakfast? I think you'll feel better if you do."

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"That we'll talk more about this thing when I'm cleaned up."

"Thing?"

"Yeah, my thing, your thing, our things together."

Fraser blushed down to his Canadian roots. "Go shower, Ray, and I'll fix coffee."

Ray stood in the doorway toweling his hair, the short blond spikes poking out in all directions. Dressed only in baggy sweatpants, he watched in quiet amusement as Fraser worked in the kitchen, humming the Canadian National Anthem. "You always do that?"

Turning, Fraser smiled. "Do what?"

"Hum while you're cooking."

"No. Sometimes I sing. I find it quite invigorating."

"You do, huh?"

"Or relaxing, depending on the song."

"You've got a nice voice, kind of mellow. I like it."

"Thank you kindly." Fraser motioned to one of the chairs as he served up the bacon. "Have a seat. The eggs will be ready in just a moment. Do you prefer scrambled or fried?"

Sitting down in the chair facing the stove, Ray shook his head. "I don't usually eat breakfast."

"You should. Your body has fasted all night and needs balanced nutrition to keep the metabolism at the height of efficiency."

"Huh?"

"It's the most important meal of the day, Ray."

"Right. Good for me, huh?"

"Exactly. Now, do you prefer scrambled or fried eggs to go with your bacon?"

The thought of eating any kind of egg after being up all night drinking made him queasy. "Thanks, but I'll skip the eggs, Fraser. I'll just have some coffee."

Fraser poured the freshly brewed drink into his mug while Ray reached behind him and grabbed a box of candy. Counting out six M&M chocolates, he dropped them into the liquid and then stirred. Fraser looked on in amazement. "What did you just do?"

"It's my special blend, a little caffeine, a little sugar, a little chocolate. It's all good."

"It's appalling."

Ray just shrugged and kept drinking, the hot liquid even better than usual despite his slightly numb tongue. "This tastes real."

"Of course, it's real. I just made it."

"From scratch?"

Fraser grinned and nodded with pride. "Freshly ground, yes."

"But I don't have a coffee maker."

"None needed. I just brewed it on the stove and then strained it."

"Clever, you Canadians."

Fraser scrambled some eggs and poured them into the heated skillet as he talked. "No criticism intended, Ray, but your food supply is sorely lacking. I noticed it last time I was here so I took the liberty of bringing some staples along with fresh fruit and vegetables. I hope you're not offended."

Ray avoided Fraser's gaze as he sipped his coffee. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

"I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself."

"I'm not implying that you can't. I must confess it was a purely selfish act on my part. I just thought it might be easier to cook for you if I had something more to work with than leftover pineapple pizza and chocolate candy."

"But I like pineapple pizza and chocolate candy."

"And 16-year-old scotch."

"Better than 16-year-olds."

Instead of replying, Fraser shook his head and did a quick stir of the eggs. He served them on his plate and then put the skillet in the sink before sitting down. Fraser ate in silence while Ray finished his coffee and then refilled his cup, his head aching a hell of a lot more than it had been just a few minutes before.

"You should eat something, Ray."

"I eat, I'd lose it. It wouldn't be pretty. I'm having enough trouble keeping down this coffee. Guess my stomach's not used to the good stuff."

"Uhm."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Ray."

"Don't start with me, Fraser. You know how I hate the uhm thing. Why can't you Canadians just say what you're thinking instead of hiding behind uhm all the time?"

"It's just an expression, Ray. It doesn't mean anything."

"Of course it means something. You wouldn't say it if it didn't mean something. You trying to say you think I'm an asshole for pickling my brain when I don't have that much brain to pickle?"

"I'd never say that, Ray."

"No, you just uhm me to death. You with all your big words, you have to hide behind uhm."

"You're reading a lot more into uhm than I ever intended. I've noticed you tend to do that when you get defensive."

"Defensive? I'm not defensive. What the fuck do I have to be defensive about? It's not like you busted in here and caught me making a damn fool of myself, acting like anything I do might change the shit I pulled."

Fraser's expression softened. "You're no fool, Ray. You're hurt. I understand that. It's hard to lose the people we care about. I didn't mean anything by the uhm."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"That's okay then." Ray stood up and went to the cabinet, snagging a bottle of aspirin. He opened it and poured out six pills. As he started to toss them back, a hand captured his wrist. Surprised, Ray frowned, first looking down at his restrained arm and then back up to see Fraser staring at him. "What?"

"The standard dose is only two tablets every 4 to 6 hours."

"I've got a killer headache here, Frase, I mean a real pounder. It's no big deal. I do this all the time."

"I'll brew you some willow bark tea and add some fennel. It should take care of the headache and settle your stomach." He paused. "Trust me, Ray."

The grip loosened only slightly, Ray swallowing hard as he dropped his eyes from Fraser's intense gaze. His throat tightened, the words almost too big to say. "I trust you, Fraser, more than Stella, more than myself, more than anybody I've ever known. I just have a headache, that's all. Let go."

Fraser released him, still unhappy. Standing so near, he lifted a hand and traced a finger along the side of Ray's face, the touch like wildfire on his pale skin. "You're exhausted, Ray. Put the aspirin away and go lie down. I'll bring you the tea in just a little while."

"I don't want tea."

"You'll feel better."

"Boiled twigs and seeds ain't what I need, Fraser." His voice grew husky as he cupped his partner's face, the hint of whiskers against his palm electric. "You're what I need."

"You're tired. Sleep first. Then we'll talk."

"Just talk?"

"Perhaps."

Searching the deep blue eyes for doubt and finding none, Ray whispered, "Maybe you could take a nap while you wait."

"It's only 9:30 in the morning, Ray."

"In my bed."

"Oh. Your bed. I see."

"We'll just sleep, Fraser. I'm not good for much else right now, but I will be, I promise."

Fraser smiled and captured the hand resting on his face. "It would be inappropriate for us to sleep together at this juncture."

"And that's a problem?"

"Strangely, it doesn't seem to be."

"Good, because right now it's all I can do to keep standing."

"Lean on me, Ray."

And he did with no problem.

An icy wind carried the wails of the mourners, the women in black, the children crying above him. Muddy earth caked his boots as he dug deeper and deeper. Blisters on his hands cracked open and bled, but he continued to shovel away the soil, the walls of the grave growing higher all around him. Woody roots poked out from the dirt like twisted fingers, all reaching for him, wriggling and covered with worms.

The world spun and Ray found his hands empty. He stood on the corpse of his partner, his once youthful chest caved in by the weight of death. Ray's own scream choked, his breathing labored. Brad's voice echoed, "Bastard, you did this."

Ray clawed at the slick sides of the grave, trapped, the stench of blood and rot rising around him. Falling back, he dropped to his knees, his eyes squeezed shut, refusing to take in the decayed features.

Gagging, unable to breathe, Ray suddenly found himself seated at his desk at the station. Only it wasn't his desk, and everybody knew that, everybody wanted him gone. The real Ray Vecchio handed him a bottle of scotch and slapped him on the back. He leaned in and kissed his cheek before he whispered, "Faggot, get the hell out."

The world spun again and Stella slapped him even harder, harder than she ever did before. Rau fell back on his ass holding his jaw, the air whirling around him, her voice filled with bitter disappointment. "Loser. Coward. You're a waste, Ray. Always will be."

Ray blinked back tears and found himself in the dark again, cold and wet. He stumbled and crouched in an alley, the rain falling, his mouth bloody. Raising the bottle to his cracked lips, he drank deeply, the fire spreading through him as he shuddered. He swallowed again and again, and the bottle never emptied. The slow sweet spin of oblivion soothed him with a powerful hand, a masterful stroke to his brain that made it all better. Every swallow blocked the world and let him float to a place where pain didn't touch him. Nothing fucking touched him, not Brad, not Vecchio, not even Stella.

But then he shook and couldn't stop shaking. He needed Fraser and he couldn't see, couldn't open his eyes, couldn't feel the heat of life anywhere. Voice gone, he whimpered and curled up tighter, hoping the cold would drain away and take the awful fear with it.

Gentle hands suddenly pulled him closer and Ray caught his breath one last time before waking like a drowning swimmer desperate for air. "Jesus."

"Ray, are you all right?"

"Just hold me."

Fraser wrapped his arms around him, the embrace more like heaven than Ray could stand. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he buried his face against Fraser's chest. He didn't speak, had no words to express the horror of being a prisoner in his own head, a captive to the past that never let up even in his sleep. Fatigue weighted his muscles and the withdrawal from the booze made Ray's whole body ache for just one more drink before giving up and giving in to whatever terror his ghosts wanted to swing at him next.

Petting his hair, Fraser kissed his head and whispered, "It's okay, Ray. I'm here."

Ray didn't say a word, just lay there, wallowing in the comfort of his friend's touch, in his scent of honest sweat and devotion. He wanted so much more than he deserved. After a few moments, he relaxed slightly and took a deep breath. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"For being so stupid."

"There's nothing wrong with crying, Ray. Sometimes it's a necessary outlet."

"Yeah, and sometimes I'm a wimp and just can't help it."

"What were you dreaming?"

"Nothin'."

"Ray."

Pulling away, Ray sat up and leaned back against the headboard. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it. Besides, dreams don't make any sense anyway. They're just another way to mess with your head, especially my head since it's pretty much a mess already."

"Dreams can be a window to the psyche. They often reveal what we subconsciously fear or desire."

Ray snorted. "Your dreams are a lot more subtle than mine then. Big surprise there, huh? Mine ain't no mystery. I know what I'm afraid of so why the hell can't this subthingamajobby just leave me the fuck alone?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't quite work that way, Ray."

"Figures. Besides, they're just drunk dreams."

"Drunk dreams? But you're sober."

"Which is sort of why I dream about getting drunk. Some kind of condensation."

"You mean compensation?"

"What'd I say?"

"Doesn't matter. I take your meaning."

Fraser sat on the edge of the bed bare-footed, still dressed in his white T-shirt and jeans, his brown leather jacket draped over the chair. Shivering, Ray reached down and pulled the blanket free from the sheets and wrapped it around his bare shoulders.

"Cold?"

"Freezing."

"I can adjust the thermostat."

"Won't do any good, never does. I just gotta ride it out. Serves me right for being so stupid." Ray closed his eyes and tried to relax, the back of his head stretched and throbbing. "I've been doing okay for about 6 months now, just beers, no hard stuff. A binge like this takes practice. You go into it pretty much sober, you gotta pay, no way around it."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I never realized this was such a problem. Why didn't you say something?"

"What am I going to say? Hey, your partner's a juicehead, a fall down on his sorry ass drunk. Let's have a party and I'll buy the first dozen rounds. Not going to happen, not in this lifetime anyway."

"You could've said something, Ray. I might have been able to help."

Ray climbed off the bed, dropping the blanket behind him, his legs wobbly. "I need to go to the can. Be back in a jiffy if I don't fall and bust my ass."

"Do you need my assistance?"

Making a face, Ray shook his head. "I'm pathetic, Fraser, but I'm not that bad off yet. I can still fucking pee on my own. Hell, if you'll remember, sometimes I don't even bother undressing."

"Ray-"

"I know, I know. It's history. I was a kid."

"But it still bothers you, I can see that."

Ray didn't answer, but went into the bathroom and shut the door. He wanted to rip the damn light bulb out of the socket. Who needed to see to pee anyway? All the better to piss in the dark, no mirrors, no witnesses.

He relieved himself and then leaned his forehead against the cool tile until the dizziness let up. Then he dropped the seat and slumped down, his face in his hands, his eyes stinging. He hated remembering the bank, the humiliation. No matter how he played it over in his head, he still came out a coward, a boy so afraid he pissed his pants in front of everybody. It didn't matter that he was only thirteen. Once a coward, always a coward. He might have fooled Stella and Fraser, but he couldn't fool himself, not when it counted. The truth mocked him every fucking day of his miserable life.

The knock at the door brought his head up. "Ray?"

"Give me a minute."

"Certainly. I'll be right here."

Shaking his head to clear it, Ray stood up. He stared in the mirror, bruised blue eyes staring back. He couldn't let Fraser do this. Washing his hands quickly, he brushed his teeth to get rid of the cotton mouth. Then he opened the door, prepared for what he had to do. "Fraser, you need to leave now."

"I'm not leaving, Ray."

"I'm asking you to."

"You can ask, but I'm not leaving."

Frustrated, Ray made it to the bed and sagged down, sitting on the edge. Head in hands, he struggled to keep his voice even. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into here. I've got a lot of problems."

"That isn't exactly news, Ray."

Lifting his head, Ray met Fraser's steady gaze. "What are you saying? You get off on hanging around with damaged guys like me?"

Fraser hesitated for just a moment before reaching out to run his fingers through Ray's hair, playing with it as he spoke quietly. "You know I'm not good at talking about my feelings. I can tell you in detail how to dress a caribou even in the most extreme conditions and with the most rudimentary tools, but to tell you how I feel about you, well, I must admit, it fills me with great trepidation."

"Nobody's ever said you were stupid."

"What I'm trying to say is, that even though I have trouble saying it, I care a great deal about you, Ray. Some might even go so far as to describe the feeling as romantic love."

"Is that how you describe it, romantic, as in dinner and dancing, a wine and roses kind of thing?"

"More like a wanting to spend the rest of my life with you kind of thing."

Ray turned and stared, his mouth slightly open, his chest tight. "You mean that?"

"Yes, I do, Ray. However, the fact that you consider yourself damaged and not worthy of this love bothers me a great deal."

Ray stood up, his body shaking. "But it's the truth, the absolute god's honest truth, no lie. I'm seriously fucked up sometimes. You have to know what you're getting into here. I'm not easy. Just ask Stella. I thought I had it all together, the job, the little wife and home, but it fucking fell apart and I didn't even see it coming, not a clue. How the hell could I miss what was going on right under my very nose? I'm a fucking detective for christsakes and I didn't even see how miserable she was."

Pacing back and forth, Ray forced the words out. "I loved her so much, I just didn't want to see it, didn't want to face it. I fucked it up so bad, Fraser. Now she can hardly stand the sight of me. I'd die if that happened to us. I just couldn't handle it again, not again, Fraser. You've got to understand that."

"I think I do."

Ray stopped moving and studied the man sitting calmly on his bed. "It won't be easy. You're not going to believe how bad it's going to get, not just with dealing with my shit, but with all the stuff they're liable to throw at us at the station. I don't know how they deal with this sort of thing in Canada, but here, cops don't like queers, especially queer cops. It could get rough, and I'm not talking about a little ribbing here, Fraser. I'm talking full blown harassment, flat out stab you in the back, go to the end of the line, kick you out on your faggoty ass kind of shit. Can you handle that? Cause if you can't, tell me now. Don't get my hopes up and then back out, not unless you toss me a full bottle before you go."

"I'm not going anywhere, Ray. You just have to trust me." Fraser paused and then stood up, closing the space between them. Leaning in, backing Ray against the wall, he embraced him as he whispered, "I love you."

Shocked by the power of the words, Ray's body trembled against Fraser's, his own voice husky. "Was that hard to say?"

"Not in the least, not once I decided the true nature of my feelings."

"Which are?"

Fraser ground gently against him, tilting his head slightly as he sniffed Ray's neck. "Love, lust, a long list of wishes." Fraser's tongue licked his throat, the wet heat rocking Ray's shaky world.

Ray lifted Fraser's head with both hands and captured his mouth, his own tongue wrestling with his partner's, the soft moans a turn on. He parted long enough to choke out, "Bed?"

Fraser smiled and swung him around, walking his body across the small room. Pushed gently, Ray fell back, his legs still off the edge of the mattress. Fraser parted his thighs and stood between them. He slowly stripped off his T-shirt and then unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them down and off. He didn't even fold them, just let them drop and then added his boxers to the pile. Reaching down, he grabbed the elastic waist of Ray's sweats. "Lift up."

Following orders, Ray allowed the quick touches, the swift move to nakedness. He lifted his knees up and rested his heels on the bed, fully exposed, vulnerable and wanting. Fraser studied him, his eyes focused only on him. "You're beautiful, Ray."

"I thought you Mounties never lied."

"We don't."

Flushing, Ray swallowed hard and smiled. "Thanks. You're beautiful, too, Fraser."

"Thank you kindly." Kneeling between Ray's legs, Fraser fondled the balls and then the cock, touching them gently. "May I?"

"Jesus, you have to ask?"

"It seemed only polite, Ray."

"Fuck polite. Stop teasing and get going."

"I've found through my limited experience that patience makes the process more pleasurable."

"For you maybe. Me, I like to be patient after I come."

Fraser actually laughed out loud, a beautiful rippling sound Ray couldn't get enough of. "As you wish, Ray." Without further talking, Fraser licked the tip of Ray's cock, his tongue hot and lazy up around the crown, his lips taking him in. Ray closed his eyes, the sensation blasting up from his cock, his heart hammering inside him. His belly tightened as Fraser sucked him and rolled his balls at the same time.

Without warning, a teasing finger eased into his ass, the jolt bringing his head up. "What the fuck?"

The glorious mouth left him in the cold. "You want me to stop?"

"Hell, no. Just surprised me, that's all."

"Relax, Ray. I won't hurt you. I promise."

"I've just never, you know..."

"I understand. I'll go slowly."

"No, it's okay. I trust you." Ray swallowed hard before he added, "I love you, Fraser, always have, always will. Go figure that I'd fall for a Canadian Mountie of all things."

Fraser smiled, his spit slick finger still buried inside him, his dark blue eyes suddenly darker. He kissed the tip of Ray's cock. "I've been waiting a long time to hear that, Ray. Thank you."

Ray's head fell back as his fists clenched the sheets. "God. That feels great."

"I suppose this isn't the time to explain why that is."

"Oh, god, I'm dying here."

"I hardly think so, though the orgasm is often referred to as the little death."

"Jesus, Fraser, just suck me before we both turn grey."

"Certainly, Ray. I know patience isn't your strong suit."

Ray closed his eyes, his body drenched in sweat as he reveled in the conflicting images of both fucking and killing Fraser at the same time.

His lover's mouth took him in again, his wonderfully thick finger fucking his ass. A sharp pleasure stunned him, made his heart race as Fraser touched something deep inside, something linked to brightness all around him. He couldn't speak or ask questions, didn't fucking care. Pressure wound through him, his muscles tight, the roar inside his head even louder. Firestorms raged though him, his thighs slick with sweat, his balls swelling up.

Hot feathery threads pumped though him as Fraser's mouth and tongue pushed him closer to the edge, his hips thrusting, needing to move. The abyss of completion claimed him without warning, the flashes exploding like a thunderbolt to the brain. His lungs staggered with bliss, his spine arched up as he came. Fraser rode along with him, never losing contact.

Time floated above him, reality several worlds away. He had no idea how long he lay there before Fraser kissed him softly, his tongue bitter and salty. "I love you, Ray."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm starting to get that."

Fraser shifted up beside him, the two of them lying across the bed in the wrong direction. His partner drew him into his arms, rubbing his cheek with his own, Fraser's whiskers rough and pleasing. "I must confess, I enjoyed that immensely."

"My Mountie, an expert cocksucker. Who knew?"

Fraser actually tutted while he ran a lazy finger back and forth along the midline of Ray's belly. "Now, now, we don't have to be vulgar."

Ray laughed. "You can do it, but can't say it? How weird is that?"

"Actually, I'm hoping that fellatio becomes a regular activity for the both of us from now on."

"You bet, Frase, only that f word doesn't sound nearly as sexy as cocksucking."

"Uhm."

"Don't start."

"Sorry. Bad habit, I'm afraid. No, I was just wondering what it is about using vulgar terms for sexual acts that seems to stimulate you."

Ray chuckled to himself and then nuzzled into Fraser's shoulder as he pulled the blanket over their cooling bodies. "Talking dirty's not just about the dirty words, Fraser. It's about being intimate enough with a person to feel like you can do it without sounding like an idiot or getting your face slapped."

"I'd never slap you, Ray, well, not unless you forced me to reciprocate a physical blow like you did when we were having problems with the partnership."

"I'm really sorry about that."

"Understood and it's in the past. Still, I'm not sure I understand your reference. Have you been slapped for talking dirty before?"

"Sure. Stella used to slap me when she thought I got out of line." Tensing slightly, Ray kept his eyes closed but tried not to replay the memories. "Towards the end, well, I guess it seemed like she slapped me more than she kissed me."

"For talking dirty?"

"No, for other things. Worse things."

"Such as?"

"I don't really want to talk about this now, Fraser."

"I understand, though I must say I'm surprised you let her abuse you on a regular basis like that."

"Don't talk crazy. She didn't abuse me. She always had good reason. Hell, some of the shit I pulled, I'd have slugged me."

Fraser shifted beside him and cupped his face. "Ray, look at me."

"Don't want to. You're going to say something super Canadian and spoil the mood. I can just feel it."

Sighing, Fraser moved back in against him, his arms giving a quick squeeze of reassurance. "It's never appropriate to hit the person you love, Ray. There, I've said it. If that spoils the mood, so be it."

"So be it?"

"Yes."

"You talk funny, you know that?"

"You're deflecting."

"And you're a good cocksucker."

"Takes one to know one."

"Oh, gee, Fraser, that's mature, very mature."

"I find that my association with you has changed my nature somewhat."

"Somewhat. Yeah, I'd say. You're queer now."

"Sorry to disabuse you of that notion, but I've had homosexual experiences before now."

"Really?"

"It gets lonely in the Yukon. I'm only human. I find having sexual adaptability is a definite advantage. Besides, I must confess to finding both the male and female forms equally attractive."

"You're a switch hitter?"

"As are you, apparently."

"Never was before."

"Never?"

"Never." Ray sighed and relaxed into Fraser's embrace, his body tired and begging for more sleep.

"I find that remarkable. Discovering one's true sexual nature at your age is fairly unusual. Of course, cultural pressure to refrain from homosexual activity, especially in a male dominated environment such as law enforcement, might be a factor for such a latent response."

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Do me a favor."

"What?"

"Be quiet. Let's just enjoy the moment. I don't want to analyze this thing."

"This thing as in your thing and my thing and our things together, Ray?"

Ray laughed. "You big freak, you. You knew."

Raising himself up slightly, Fraser leaned in closer, his mouth just a few inches away. "For a while now, yes."

"Why didn't you say nothin'?"

"I did say nothing. I thought that's what you wanted, to remain mute on the obvious mutual attraction. Besides, Ray, I didn't want to take advantage of you while you were under the influence."

Capturing the back of Fraser's neck, Ray pulled him in for a kiss, long and sweet. The soft gentleness surprised him. He drew back, his voice a husky whisper. "And now?"

"Now, I want us to be partners in every sense of the word."

"Even with all the baggage, all the damage? I mean, we both know I've got one or two problems. Sometimes it gets out of hand. I don't mean for it to, but it just does. Do you really want to deal with all that?"

"I'm not exactly bag free myself, Ray. The point is, that both of us have gone through some traumatic situations, personal dramas that have made us both the men we are. Sure we both have issues, but we can deal with those as long as we're honest. We have to trust one another, Ray. That's what partnership's all about."

Ray chuckled and rested his forehead on Fraser's bare chest. "That and great blowjobs."

"Fellatio, Ray. I'm being entirely serious here and you're deflecting again. Does talking seriously about this bother you so much?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Ray took a deep breath, his patience growing edgy. "Look, let's just take a nap and when I wake up, you can teach me all about the wonderful world of fellatio. I want to make it as good for you as you did for me. Just don't ask me to spell it afterwards."

Fraser smiled, his eyes crinkled at the edges, the amusement flashing in his blue eyes. "I'm sure you'll be an apt pupil, Ray, but you do know that it might take a bit of practice."

"I got no problem with practice. Practice is good. In fact, if you want, I can start right now." Shifting, Ray scooted down, his face closer to Fraser's cock, his mouth suddenly dry. Excitement tinged with fear made him shaky. "Is that what you want, Fraser? Just tell me what to do and I'll do it. I want this to be good."

A hand drew him back up into Fraser's arms, his lover's face just a warm breath away. "It will be, when you're ready. Rest first. I want it to be right for both of us, Ray, not just me. I want you to like doing it as much as receiving. That won't happen if you're too tired and scared."

"I'm not scared, not shit oh my god I can't do this scared anyway."

"I know, but you're still wary of what it's going to be like. That's only natural under the circumstances." Fraser combed his fingers back through Ray's blond hair and then kissed him, just a feather's touch to the lips before he whispered, "Rest, Ray. We've got plenty of time. We don't have to rush it. Trust me."

"I do, Fraser, I do." Doubts dancing at the back of his head missed a step and stumbled. A plague of memories settled into a dry dust, frustrated and unnoticed. Ray smiled and accepted the soothing embrace, the warm hug as Fraser nuzzled against him. Lying quietly together, Ray closed his eyes and drank in the heady scent of Fraser, the strange man who loved him despite the damage, despite all the scars he carried. For the first time since Stella, Ray actually believed he might wake up with a future, a future filled with Fraser and all the freakish wonder of that new and unexplored territory.

The End

End Swallowing Thunder by Grey: grey853@aol.com

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