Author's website: http://www.pertifity.com

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Notes: So many many thank you's to Suz. She rocks more than ever. Also, thanks to Canthlian.

Story Notes: Very vague spoilers for All the Queen's Horses.

He considered himself a perceptive man. Well, that is, he used to. Nowadays he was more of manly remains.

Never the less, Bob still liked to think that he knew what was going on. That he could still keep up. That the world was a puzzle that he could still solve, with some hard thinking.

Which was why finding his son in bed with another man was somewhat surprising, to put it mildly.

There'd still been plenty of clothing left on, thank heavens, (although God knew if there would have been had he arrived a few minutes later) but the writhing and moaning still left very little to the imagination.

Before he could turn and make a hasty if not graceful retreat, Benton's eyes shot open (and to think that he used to take pride in his son's sixth sense) and he stared at Bob in horror over the Yank's shoulder.

At least the moaning stopped.

"You okay, Frase?" the Yank asked in a concerned voice as he lifted his face from Benton's neck and Bob couldn't help but ask himself if it meant something that he was lying on top of Benton.

"Um," Benton was still staring at him, "yes, I'm fine."

"Sure you are. Which is why you were really...enthusiastic," here the Yank looked down Benton's body in a telling way that made Bob wonder where the hell he'd put his shotgun, "and now you're all stiff. As in the not so good kind of stiff."

"Ah," Benton tried to give the Yank his attention, but his eyes kept flickering back to Bob, a haunted expression in them.

Bob knew how he felt.

The Yank turned his head and when his eyes met Bob's, he saw the shock jolting through him reflected there.

It was a good thing he was already dead, God knew what this would have done to his heart.

"JE-zus!" The Yank leaped off the bed.

Benton sat up, reaching out a hand towards him. "Ray, calm down, it's just my-" His mouth closed with a snap. "You can see my father?"

The Yank's eyes hadn't left Bob since he'd first caught sight of him. "That's your dad? Isn't he supposed to be...?"

"Dead? Yes, but unfortunately that doesn't seem to stop him."

"Some respect, son," Bob said reprovingly, doing his best not to reach for the holster at his side that he knew would hold a gun, but a gun that would - disappointingly enough - do the Yank no harm.

"Some privacy, dad," Benton said sharply, face coloring slightly from its previous pasty white.

"Well, it's not like I could knock, is it?"

"Fraser," the Yank looked kind of dazed, "have I gone nuts?"

"No, Ray, the fact that both of us can see him seems to indicate good things for our mental health." He paused and scratched his eyebrow. "Well, mine anyway. I must admit, it's a relief that you can see him as well. Sergeant Frobisher is a fine officer, but he's a little..."

Bob had to agree with that sentiment.

"Yeah. Right. Okay. I think I need to sit." The Yank sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

Bob fidgeted. The staring was getting a little unnerving.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?" Benton laid his hand on the Yank's shoulder.

He nodded frantically. "A glass of water and a sledge hammer would be good."

Benton squeezed his shoulder. "A glass of water it is."

He got off the bed and walked to the door, glaring at his father as he opened it. "Do you mind?"

Bob smiled graciously. "No, not at all, go fetch some water for the Yank."

Benton sighed. "Dad."

Bob stared at him blankly. Then, "Oh! Yes, of course, I'll assist you." He tapped the side of his nose.

"Thank you," Benton said, walking out of the room, Bob following. They moved over to the sink and as Benton opened one of the cabinets above it, he said, "Now, will you please tell me what on earth possessed you to walk into Ray's bedroom?"

"I was looking for you, although I must confess, I didn't think you'd be..." Bob coughed discreetly, "occupied."

Benton closed his eyes briefly, a pained expression on his face. "Dad, I would think looking for me in Ray's bedroom would be an unlikely place to start."

"Well, I didn't start looking there, I started looking at the consulate, but Diefenbaker told me-"

Benton's head snapped to look at him and the glass he had started to fill with water overflowed. "Diefenbaker?" He sighed. "Et tu, Brute."

"Fraser?" the Yank yelled from the bedroom.

Benton visibly perked up. Bob didn't even know he could be perky. Well, not that perky, at least. "Yes, Ray?"

"Nothing. Just checking that you're real."

"Ray, I told you..." He sighed. "I'm coming with water, one moment." He turned off the tap and looked at Bob. "Will you please leave?"

Bob was hurt. "What, you don't even want to speak with your father?"

Benton pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, "And pay, and pay, and pay..." He lowered his hand and gestured towards the bedroom. "Is this going to be a problem?"

Bob patted his shoulder. "No, no, son, I understand. It's not the first time this kind of thing has happened, you know. Those long cold nights in the Yukon..."

"Dad, this is hardly a cold night in the Yukon."

"No, it appears to be a very warm night with the Yank on."

Benton stared at him. "I can't believe you just said that."

"I may be a little shook up," Bob admitted.

"Well, do you want to talk to him?"

Bob frowned. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Well, there's a great possibility he may be around for a while, shouldn't you two get to know each other?"

Bob stared at Benton, and as his face started to ache he realized he was smiling. He hoped so at least. It might have been a grimace. "Now, son, let's be realistic here. Your history with...relationships," he rushed over the final word, "hasn't exactly been ideal."

Benton smiled in a suspiciously patronizing manner. "Whatever you say, dad."

There was a shuffling noise behind him and he turned to see the Yank standing in the bedroom doorway. He still looked a bit wild-eyed, but all in all, Bob grudgingly admitted that he was handling this pretty well.

The Yank tried on a smile and didn't so much stare as look at Bob. "Hey, Mr. Fraser. You, ah, you're looking really good for a dead guy."

Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

End Cold Nights in the Yukon by Nel: nel_ani@yahoo.se

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