Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/a_kite_fic/

Disclaimer: You know they're not mine, right?

Author's Notes: Huge thanks to Alex Sisterwolf, her efforts made this a much better story. Thank you also to BJ Cochran and Karen/s for reading the first draft and liking it.

Story Notes:

For a long time, I didn't know what happened up there in Canada between Fraser and Kowalski, and I wasn't about to ask. To be honest with you, I was too afraid to ask, but, in the end, I'm the one that had to pick up the pieces. The one that keeps the shards of Stanley Raymond Kowalski together. In doing so, I've found pieces of myself that I never knew were missing. It hasn't been easy - believe me. Then again, is anything with Kowalski ever easy?

I guess you've gathered that me and his ex didn't work out. I really can't blame Stella. She thought I was someone else. When we met I was still being Armando Langoustini. I couldn't get him out of my head, couldn't figure out who Ray Vecchio was anymore. So she signed on for this charming, sophisticated ex-mafia boss, and all she got was a tired, old ex-cop with bad dreams. We stuck it out for a few months, but we both knew it wasn't working. I came on back home and tried to put my life back in order. I'd been back on the job two, maybe three weeks when I saw Kowalski come dragging into the squadroom. The last anyone had heard, him and Benny were off on some big adventure. He kept his head down and went straight for Welsh's office. The blinds were closed so I couldn't see what was going on in there. Until a few minutes later, when Welsh bellowed, "Vecchio, my office. Now!"

Kowalski was sitting on the couch. Frankly, looking pretty much like shit. Skinny, fucking skinny as a rail, and his eyes - I'll never forget his eyes. Bloodshot, yeah, but worse than that, they were just dead. No spark behind them at all. None of that Kowalski attitude, and if you know Stanley, you know what I'm talking about.

I must have stared a good two minutes before I realized that the lieutenant was talking to me. Partners? They were going to stick me with death on a stick for a partner? To say I was pissed is an understatement of - how would Benny put it? Enormous proportions. Yeah, that about covers it.

The first week was awful. That 'death on a stick' thing was not a metaphor. Kowalski was staying at this stinky dive hotel. I found out by following him one night that he was also drinking himself numb. Yeah, I know you're asking yourself, what the hell was it to you, Vecchio? Okay, so I was curious. Nosy, yeah, you could say that. But a man comes back from six months in the Yukon and doesn't look for a place, doesn't bother getting his stuff out of storage? Something was up.

Look at this way though - this was the guy I was expecting to back me up. If he wasn't on the ball, I could wind up dead. Or he could. And hey, if he wanted to off himself, I'd prefer he left me out of it. So I followed him. Watched him go into the liquor store and watched him come out with a fifth of cheap vodka. One person in my life drinking themselves to death was enough. I followed him right down the street to the dive and went up the stairs to his room. I was right behind him and he never knew.

Well, he never knew until he unlocked the door, and I was there in his face. He dropped the bottle. Too bad it didn't break. I snatched it up and carried it into the room and over to the grimy sink. When Kowalski realized that I was going to dump it, he jumped me. I've never been a heavyweight. Vecchio men are naturally slender, but he wasn't nothing but skin and bones. I had him face down on the sagging, rickety old bed in about five seconds. If he had been in any kind of shape, it wouldn't have been that easy.

Oh, he fought - fought like a tiger, but there was no strength behind it. Kowalski finally gave it up. He quit fighting me and lay there panting for a minute. I left him there and did what I came there to do. I poured the vodka down the sink. When I turned back he was still lying there, face down on the bed.

"Come on, Kowalski. You're checking out of here." That got a twitch out of him. "There's a room at Casa Del Vecchio with your name on it. Get up and get your shit together."

He groaned, "Leave me alone, Vecchio."

I just smiled and said, "No way, Stanley. Ma's going to have a field day fussing over you."

He rolled over and gave me the evil eye. It was more of a reaction than I'd gotten from him all week. "That's cruel and unusual punishment. What'd I ever do to you?"

I shrugged. "You're my partner."

"Yeah, well, I wonder what I ever did to deserve that too."

"Fuck you too, Stanley. Now get up."

He got up and threw his stuff in bag. Man, was I right about Ma. She cooed and fussed just like I thought she would - kept calling him her little Raimundo. I wasn't sure if I liked that or not. Kowalski took it though, just like I knew he would. No matter what, he wouldn't do nothing to hurt Ma's feelings. He ate too. Enough so that in a couple of days he was looking less death-like.

It lasted about two weeks. Two weeks of me pushing him, okay, totally dominating him. I got him an apartment, and I arranged to get his stuff out of storage and delivered. I picked him up every morning and took him home every night. The first three nights I even stayed there with him. Had to make sure he didn't go back to the bottle. All that time he never said anything.

It all came to a head at the station one day. We were in Interview 2 with a suspect. To tell the truth, I was being an asshole. I was undermining everything we had on the guy. Pushing him just the way I'd been pushing Kowalski. Only this guy wasn't taking it. He clammed up tighter than a virgin's knees. I was in the suspect's face one second, and Kowalski was pushing me out the door the next. No supply closet for our boy, Stanley. He shoved me into the men's room.

I ended up with my back against the partition for the stalls, and Kowalski headed at me. I thought he was going to punch me. The look on his face, I really thought he was going to knock my lights out. Only he got closer, then closer yet and instead of hitting me, he kissed me. He grabbed my tie, pulled my head up and kissed me. Hard and nasty with a little tongue at the end, sweeping across my lips. I'd never been kissed like that in my life.

He pushed a knee between my legs and went at my mouth again. I could lie here, say a bunch of bullshit, but the truth is, I was harder than a rock. I kissed him right back and rubbed my cock against his thigh. Kowalski pulled back a little at that. He looked me in the eyes and got this evil smile on his face. I just smiled back and rubbed against him again.

I guess he kind of woke up to exactly where we were, what we were doing, because he grabbed me again and pushed me into one of the stalls. The one on the end, and he latched the door behind him. Next thing I know, Kowalski's on his knees. He'd got my pants open, and I'll be damned if he didn't blow me right there in the men's room.

I don't know what he was thinking - talk about your inappropriate places. Me, I wasn't thinking at all. It'd been a long time since my dick had gotten some attention from anything other than my own right hand. So, no, I didn't stop him. I didn't do nothing but try to push my cock further into his mouth. Stanley didn't take that too well. I got scraped by his fucking teeth for that. No pushing from me allowed, which was kind of poetic justice since I'd been pushing him around for a couple of weeks.

So, I let him do it any way he wanted. It felt too good to stop. So good, in fact, that I lasted a grand total of maybe three minutes. He blew my fucking head off in three minutes. That's something. I was standing there trying to get myself back together, and he reached past me to grab some toilet paper. I looked down, and he was wiping come off of his dick and out of his underwear. Creamed right there in his too baggy jeans.

I zipped up. He zipped up. Kowalski threw the paper into the crapper and flushed. We washed our hands and went back to work. This time I kept my yap shut and let him question our suspect - who turned out to be the perp, just like we'd thought.

That night I dropped him off at his apartment. We never once acknowledged what had happened. I didn't ask him the question that'd been burning in my mind the whole afternoon. I went on home and pushed some spaghetti around on my plate. Ma looked at me sharp for not eating but didn't say anything. I sat a couple of hours not watching TV and headed upstairs. I laid there and wondered; had he done that to Benny? Or maybe he wanted to and didn't. Or maybe he'd tried and got turned down? It all went round and around in my head.

Finally, I pushed it out. Made myself quit thinking about it. Then other stuff started creeping in - like how good it had been. Before I was even conscious of it, my hand had slipped under the waist band of my pajamas. Thinking about his mouth got me hard. Thinking about pushing in and out of some place smaller and tighter than that made me come again. Twice in one day, which hadn't happened in longer than the last time somebody else got me off.

My brain tried to figure out what that all meant. Is that why I was doing this shit? Did I want to fuck Stanley's ass? Was it because of Stella... or because of Fraser? I'd always wondered what would have happened if that plane hadn't crashed when me and Benny went north. Which brought me right back to where I'd started from. What the hell happened between Kowalski and Fraser up there?

I managed to drag myself out of bed the next morning and get to work more or less on time. I'm not sure if I was glad it was a paperwork day or not. Paperwork meant I was there with Kowalski all day. Between us we got all of our reports done. I had just finished the last one. Got it printed and looked around for my partner to get his signature but didn't see him.

"You see where Kowalski went?" I asked one of the new guys that had taken Huey and Dewey's place.

He looked up and answered, "Yeah, I think I saw him heading for the breakroom a few minutes ago."

With papers in hand, I walked into the breakroom and saw Kowalski talking to the other new guy, Cummings. He was smiling up at the guy, a real smile, and it hit me. Walter Cummings was a big guy. Tall, good build, dark hair - he kind of looked like Fraser. Too much like Fraser. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

Oh yeah, I saw red, even though the guy wasn't wearing anything close to the Serge. I walked over, right there in the breakroom and threw my arm around Kowalski's shoulders. He looked at me, surprised, and I said, "Hey partner, you want to sign this report so we can get the hell out of here?"

"Okay. Yeah, sure," he said back and tried to wiggle out from under my arm. I didn't let him. I used my grip on his shoulder to steer him over to the table. I set the report down and handed him my pen. All one handed - I hadn't let him go yet. I took the styrofoam cup of coffee out of his hand.

He signed, and I gave his shoulder a little squeeze. "I'm going to turn this into to the lieutenant, why don't you meet me downstairs?" He nodded, still looking at me like I'd lost my mind. I just gave him one of my patented Vecchio smiles. I tossed the cup in the trash and headed for Welsh's office.

If Kowalski noticed that I was tight-lipped on our drive over to his apartment, he didn't show it. He didn't seem surprised when I parked the car instead of letting him out at the curb. He just yanked his head toward the door and said, "Come on up."

Any kind of notion I had about putting my claim on Kowalski's ass went flying out the window. As soon as the door was shut, he had my back against it. He gave me another one of those hot, nasty kisses. He pulled back, and I tried to follow. He slammed me back against the door again.

"What's your deal, Vecchio? You want a little more of this?" He bumped against my crotch. He flipped me around to face the door. "Or maybe you want some of this? Huh?" He ground his hips into my ass, letting me feel how hard he was.

Okay, it'd gotten a little too weird for me. I tried a couple of moves to get him off me, but Kowalski had me pinned pretty good. He was humping my ass, and he tongued my ear. I heard him whisper, "Yeah, you want it." Okay, so maybe I did. My dick sure jumped at his mouth on my ear and neck. My head was spinning, but my dick knew what it wanted. It was hard and leaking already by the time he got my pants open and found it. He stroked me a couple of times, and I was bucking back into him.

I know, I know. You're thinking, what kind of fucked up kinky games were you playing there, Vecchio? This was your partner - your 'you have to work with the guy every day' cop partner. And what about me? I was your original, straight as an arrow, Italian-American ladies man. The answer to that is, I don't know. I still don't know, okay?

Yeah, it was weird and as queer as queer could be, but it happened. Stanley Raymond Kowalski fucked my ass right up against his front door, and I didn't do anything but moan like a whore then come like a geyser. He helped me pull my pants back up. Got a couple of paper towels and wiped up the mess. Off me and off the door and the floor. He led me over to the couch and ordered a pizza. When the pizza came, he got us a couple of sodas - didn't even have beer in the house, and we watched basketball.

What we didn't do was talk about it. I was so tired and sore by the time I got home, I didn't even think about it. I took a hot shower and zonked right out. Best night's sleep I'd had in years.

I tried to steer clear of being alone with Kowalski after that, and it worked for a little while anyway. We did good work. Things were humming along. We broke two big cases in as many weeks. Then I started doing it again - the pushing domination thing. We got some time off, and I decided we were going to shop for Stanley a car. I decided, not him. I picked him up and drove him around to the car lots. He was looking for a fix-er-uppper, something sporty. I pushed him at the bigger, classier cars.

Yeah, I know it was one of those subconscious thingies now. I wanted another helping of Polish sausage, but being a guy, and you know. I didn't know that I wanted it. Well, I did know, but I didn't want him to know. I didn't want to acknowledge to myself that I wanted my partner to fuck me up the ass again. I couldn't ask for it. No way. Somehow Kowalski knew anyway.

We didn't find a car that day. We stopped and ate Chinese on the way back to his place. I should have dropped him off, but I didn't. We got there, and I followed right behind him up the stairs. Inside, I followed him straight into his bedroom. He stopped and looked at me. There was something in his eyes I didn't recognize, some kind of dark emotion. He almost looked angry. He said, "Strip, Armando," and the bottom fell out of my world.

I didn't know what to do, what to say or even what to think. I stopped in my tracks and just stared at him, not believing what he'd called me. I turned around and slammed out of his apartment. I had no idea where I was going. I couldn't go home, that's for damn sure. Frannie and Ma would be on me in five seconds, asking me what's wrong.

I guess I just started walking. I don't really remember. The next thing I knew I was standing in front of a phone booth. Then and there I knew what I had to do. I stepped inside and made sure the phone was working. Miracles of miracles, I got a dial tone. I dug my calling card and a phone number out of my wallet and started dialing. The phone rang once - twice.

"Hello?" It was him.

"Hey, Benny."

"Ray?"

"Yeah, Benny. It's me. How ya doing?"

I heard barking in the background. Fraser covered the receiver, but I could still hear him talking to Dief. "No, Diefenbaker, it's Ray Vecchio." I heard Dief whine and Fraser said, "Yes, I know, Dief." It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that I was Dief's second choice of Rays. Benny's, too.

Benny came back on the line and apologized, "Excuse me, Ray. I had to quiet Diefenbaker so that I could hear you properly."

"No problem, Benny. Tell furface I miss him. How are you two doing up there in the frozen north?"

"Dief and I are fine, Ray, but it's not frozen here now. It's quite temperate in the summer months, as you well know. How are you?" This was it. I could either tell him or lie, and if I lied he'd know. I hesitated long enough for Fraser to ask, "Ray? What's wrong?"

I sighed and said, "Everything and nothing. Oh hell, it's Kowalski." I heard Fraser sort of gasp. Not real loud, just a quick intake of breath. "Benny, you have to tell me, what the hell happened up there?"

"You've seen him?"

"Yeah, Fraser. I've seen him. I see the little mook every day. He's my partner. He's... well, he's more than my partner," I admitted.

"Ah."

"Yeah, ah. I didn't call you to rub it in or nothing, but things aren't right. There's problems with both of us, and I don't know how to fix it. I thought, maybe, if I knew what went down with you two up there, then...fuck, I don't know, Benny," I trailed off.

Fraser didn't say anything at first. I heard him clear his throat, and I knew, I could see him thumbing that eyebrow. "Perhaps, Ray - perhaps you should be talking to Ray now. I think you need to ask him," he said that last part really fast.

"Aw, hell, Fraser. I can't do that now. Things are too fucked up. So, I'm asking you as a friend here, Fraser, tell me what happened." He hemmed and hawed for a few more minutes, but eventually he gave in to my nagging.

"Very well. Ray and I spent six weeks out on the ice. Until spring break up came, and we had to call halt. I expected Ray to go home then, but he didn't. I got my new assignment, and he came with me. It seemed he was waiting for something, wanting something, but I couldn't guess what.

"He got quieter and thinner, but when I suggested that he go home before he got really ill -"

"He got mad, huh?" I asked.

"To say the least. He was enraged. Then he turned his back on me and said something. When I asked him to repeat it, he just shook his head. I - well, it got ugly, Ray. I'm not proud of myself, but I forced him tell me what he'd said. And when he did, I wished," Benny sighed deep and long before continuing, "I wished I hadn't."

"What? Come on, Benny. What did he say?" It was like pulling teeth to get it out of him.

"He said, 'Fine, if you won't love me then, fuck it, I'll go.'"

"Damn," popped out of my mouth. It was the first thing that came to mind. Well, I had my answer now. What I was going to do with it was the new question. "Thanks, Benny. Listen, you take care of yourself." I started to say that I'd be in touch, but it would be a lie, so I didn't. "Bye, Fraser."

"I will. Tell Ray...never mind. Good-bye, Ray."

I hung up the phone thinking, never mind, you bet, Fraser. I'm sure you're one sorry son of bitch. I didn't get it. How could Fraser do that? It hit me then, somewhere along the way I'd gotten feelings for Kowalski. I wouldn't call it love but in the ballpark; a short pop fly or a ground ball away, maybe.

I walked along until I found a taxi and had the driver take me back to Kowalski's place. I used my key to unlock the door. Yeah, I had a key. I got him this place, so I had a key.

I walked back in, and Stanley was sitting at his kitchen table with a bottle in front of him. It was about half empty. A bottle that he must have squirreled away behind my back. I regularly checked all the cabinets. When I'm pushy, I'm pushy. He looked up at me blearily and slurred, "What the hell you doing back here, Armando Langoustini? Get the fuck out."

"Oh, no! We aren't starting this again, Stanley." He bristled at that. One way to get Kowalski's back up was to call him Stanley. Kind of the way I got when somebody said Langoustini's name. I went over to the stove and put on a pan of water for coffee. I needed him sober for this.

He didn't even try to fight me for the bottle when I walked over and grabbed it. He just sat there with his head bowed, looking at the tabletop. I didn't dump the booze this time. I just set the bottle on the counter and made us both a cup of coffee. I got three aspirin from the bottle he kept there in the kitchen. I sat down at the table and pushed his cup and the aspirin tablets toward him.

I didn't say anything right off. I sat there and watched him until he pulled the cup over and took the aspirin. He finally looked up at me and said, "Why?"

I took a sip of my coffee and smiled. "Why, what?"

He sighed. "Why did you come back? Why do you care if I drink myself stupid or not?"

I laughed a little and said, "You were already stupid. That stuff just eats your guts away." More seriously, I said, "I came back because I'm not him, okay? I'm not Fraser. I'm not Armando Langoustini either, at least I hope I'm not."

His eyes narrowed. "I'll make you a deal. You stop calling me Stanley and stop pushing me around, and I won't call you Armando, okay?"

I stood up and held out my hand. "Deal. Come on, Ray. Let's get some sleep." Kowalski put his hand in mine, and I pulled him up.

And maybe it didn't fix anything - maybe the problems we were facing were more than two guys with messed-up heads and fractured hearts could handle, but I had a feeling that we'd be able to pick up the pieces, together.

Call it a hunch.

End Shards by A. Kite: AKite68163@aol.com

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