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Absently he put down the phone. Shit. Damn. It wasn't like he had a choice here. Ray Vecchio had been summoned to the Zuko house, and while Zuko and Vecchio had a long, volatile history, this Ray Vecchio wasn't even Italian. Among the issues that had come up and been planned for, this particular circumstance had never occurred to anyone.

Fraser insisted on going with him, which to be honest he hadn't even argued against, and not just because he knew Fraser wouldn't change his mind. He'd heard the stories about what had happened between Zuko, Vecchio, Fraser, and Zuko's sister, and if their uneasy truce was over, he certainly wanted nothing to do with it. He wasn't feeling that brave today.

He admired the Zuko house as they walked towards the front door, knowing that they were being monitered from the moment they got out of the car. A large man frisked them at the door. Fraser was unarmed as usual, but Ray was quite politely asked to leave his gun. He did so hesistatingly.

When they entered Zuko's office, they were both extremely surprised. Waiting inside for them were four men: Zuko, two men who were obviously bodyguards of the fourth man, Ray Vecchio.

"Detective Vecchio?" he was asked.

Angry at whatever game the man was playing and still half nervous he growled back, "yeah?"

"Funny, you don't look Italian."

Maybe this was one of those hidden camara shows. He ran through several snarky replies but after catching Fraser out of the corner of his eye he calmed. "Funny, isn't it. What can I do for you, Mr.?

"Langoustini." He nodded at one of the first bodyguards. "Carlo."

"Yeah, boss?"

"I'd like to speak with our guests alone. Please wait outside."

"Yes, sir."

The second they were gone, Zuko stopped smiling. "We're even now, Vecchio. Come on, Detective."

He stepped into a side room with Zuko, trying to relax. Whatever this was, it looked like Vecchio had instigated it. Once again he wondered what the relationship was between Vecchio and Fraser. From the rumors he'd assumed they were lovers, but Fraser rarely mentioned Vecchio. He'd considered asking Francesca, but the way she chased after Fraser herself, she wouldn't believe it even if she walked in on them in the middle of doing the wild thing on the dining room table. And dear god, he would need bleach to get rid of that particular image.

He realized Zuko was watching him with a smirk. "What?"

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"Of what?"

"Them. What they might might be up to in there."

"Then they're-?"

Zuko shrugged. "Who knows."

Uncomfortable discussing something so intimate about his best friend with a man he barely knew, he changed the topic. "So why you? Why do this for them?"

"Let's just say I don't like owing people, Kowalski."

"How do you know my name?"

"Well, you're obviously not Ray Vecchio."

"Yeah, but-"

"Please, detective. I didn't get to where I am without having some sources. You haven't exactly been low profile. Your ex-wife is a beautiful woman, Stanley. Why exactly did you split up?"

He wasn't sure whether it was the mention of Stella, the insinuation of his sexuality, or simply being called Stanley that set him off, but he reached for his gun, only belatedly realizing that he'd been forced to leave it at the door. He settled for crowding Zuko against a convinient wall. "If you're threatening her-"

"What? You'll kill me? In my own house. What a finely tuned response to the situation. No, Detective, I'm not threatening anybody. Just curious."

"What could my ex-wife possibly matter to you?"

"If you're interested in Big Red-"

"I'm not. We're not. I'm not a fa- he's my friend." He took a deep breath. "What about you? Got a thing for Vecchio?"

Something flashed in Zuko's eyes, but he just laughed. "Funny man."

The door opened behind them and Fraser and Vecchio walked in. Kowalski searched for evidence of what they'd discussed, what they might have done, but he couldn't find anything. No lingering looks or touches, no rumpled clothes or tousled hair - without looking back he knew that Zuko too was trying to figure it out.

"Ray?"

Fraser's voice startled him and he realized Vecchio was holding out his hand. They shook, and Vecchio patted him on the shoulder. "Look after him, won't you? He gets into the most terrible trouble."

At the door his gun was returned. As they drove off he was still debating internally: were they or weren't they. The easiest thing to do, of course, would be to ask Fraser directly, but he knew he wouldn't. He just couldn't.

End Vicarious by silvina: sdelcul@yahoo.com.

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