Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimer. Guilt makes the world go round too. Please send comments, questions, compliments, and otters to sdelcul@yahoo.com.

Author's Notes: For Shannon. taking care of my brain in its time of need. Backed up archiving. Mid 2002.

Story Notes:

They were in the Riv stuck in traffic. It was hot, muggy, and an overturned maple syrup truck up ahead had traffic stopped. By all rights Ray should have been yelling and gesturing, but he wasn't. Instead he had been pensive since picking him up from the hospital.

The radio announced that traffic was now completely blocked for several miles by the accident, and the collective groans form the other drivers on the interstate were audible through the open window.

The air conditioning was the only thing keeping them even moderately comfortable, and as the warning light came on Ray turned off the engine. They weren't moving anyway.

"I need to move my legs a bit anyway. Who knew driving to Canada would take so long."

Without waiting for a response Ray got out. He could see the driver of a 1969 Corvair get out and the two of them began discussing something. From the expression on Ray's face it was the car. He smiled, wiping the sweat off his brow. He hadn't seen Ray smile since- in a while.

The difference when Ray returned was that much more tangible. The second he sat down Ray grew quiet again. He couldn't take the guilt anymore.

"I'm sorry, Ray."

"For what? You been messing with the radio again?"

"No. I mean, for her."

"Ok."

"Ray-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Ray."

"Geez, Benny. It wasn't your fault. I shot you, remember?"

"You couldn't have-"

"should have-"

"Known," they ended together.

"Aren't you holding yourself to an unreasonable level of responsibility?"

"Aren't you?"

"If I'd only-"

"What, you're psychic now? I could use a good lottery win."

"Don't be silly, Ray. I'm not psychic."

"You mean you're not Miss Cleo?"

"I don't believe she was a real psychic, Ray."

"Look Fraser, will you just shut up? I'm not mad at you. I'm not even really mad at myself, although I should be. I'm just . . . tired, okay? I'm tired and a little worn out. Nothing more, okay?"

"Perhaps if I drove?"

"No way, Fraser. No way."

The familiar banter convinced him that Ray was being honest. "Why not?"

"Because there's a thousand dollar deductible on my car, the wolf left the bathroom a mess this morning and the Jazz beat the Bulls last night."

He bit back a smile. "Trust me, Ray."

"You know, coming from you, about my car, those are the scariest words in the English language."

"You don't mean that, do you, Ray?"

Ray sighed deeply. "We'll see."

They switched places, and predictably Ray was asleep half an hour later.

Ben smiled, and continued driving at exactly the speed limit to the consternation of the drivers behind him.

End Overcompensate by silvina: sdelcul@yahoo.com

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