Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimer. If you do own them, go write a script or something. Please send comments, questions, compliments, and otters to sdelcul@yahoo.com.

Author's Notes: I apologize for the list overload, but please bear with me (feel free to send angry emails and fling inanimate objects) until I catch up. Keep in mind that internet is a two hour bus ride away at the moment and I have to boil my water before it's safe to drink. Gotta love rural Ecuador!

Story Notes:

*This tense is used to indicate that an action in the past took place before another action also in the past. It is formed by placing the past participle of the verb "to have" (had) before the past tense of the main verb.*

So much had changed since the last time he'd gone back to Canada. On his last vacation he'd been content. A week of playing "nature boy" as Ray had so lovingly put it, and then back to his life in Chicago. He'd missed Ray with a pleasant burn, convincing himself that he was ready. He'd been over Victoria for a while, but not quite over what Victoria had meant to him. He was ready now to truly give himself to Ray.

He'd been devastated to go back home -yes, he thought, Chicago had become home- and find everything had changed. The lesson was clear: Everything changes and nothing is forever. A year later he was in Canada with a different Chicago cop named Ray. Although, he thought hiding a smile, this one complained just as much as the first.

"Fraser."

Apparantly this Ray wasn't as asleep as he'd thought. "Yes, Ray?"

"What are you snickering about?"

"Nothing, Ray."

"Good. Because if you'd been laughing about the thing with the caribou, I might have to kick you in the head."

"Certainly, Ray."

"Okay then."

Things were silent for a moment, and he could hear wolves in the distance.

"Fraser?"

Ray sounded sleepy now. "Yes, Ray?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I wish you were Stella."

He didn't reply, but he did, too.

He slept badly, waking up to realize that Ray was spooned up behind him. It was another reminder of what he might have had, and he took a deep breath, ready to pull away.

He froze suddenly as receptors in his brain connected scent to memory. The Ray Vecchio he had come to Canada with did not wear Italian cologne. Nor, he gasped, would he take such liberties with his hands. He closed his eyes as whoever was behind him rocked against him, whispering American and Italian endearments into his ear.

If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up.

It was a dream though, and he woke up to find himself sticky with the remanants of his orgasm cooling on his body.

He managed to make it to the bathroom before throwing up, but only just. He stayed long enough to clean up and pull himself together before forcing himself back into the cabin's single bedroom.

It was like being on a see-saw, he thought wildly. Either that or he was hallucinating, because it was his Ray that was looking up at him from the bed in a concerned manner. His Ray asking if he was all right. His Ray braving the chilly air to pull him to sit on the bed.

Only his Ray would hug him this tightly, arms roaming his back as he sobbed pathetically. Up was down, left was right, and north was south.

His tears were brief, thankfully, and Ray didn't push him for answers although he had to be as shocked at the emotional outburst as Fraser himself was.

They laid back down, and he looked into worried green eyes, smiling. "I thought you were gone." he said quietly.

Ray frowned. "I'm not going anywhere. It's too damn cold out there."

He shivered, and Fraser pulled him closer automatically.

"You know I love you, Benny, but next time I'm picking the vacation spot. I'm thinking warm. Palm trees. Maybe Florida."

He yawned, exhausted by the emotional catharsis. "All I need is you."

End Past Perfect Indicative by silvina: sdelcul@yahoo.com

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