Disclaimer: AA ownes 'em.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes: No spoilers, set after the series ends. Um - hospital stuff, h/c

This story is a sequel to: Long Journey Home 5/?

Ray ran all the way from the bus stop, thermos sloshing in his hand and dodging around folks on their way home from work in the spring dark. He skidded to a stop outside the hospital and slapped his game face on resentfully, not wanting to waste a minute making nice with the hospital staff that would have let Fraser die because of some polite 'oh, don't trouble yourself trying to save my life' crap Fraser wrote. He still couldn't believe Fraser would do something like that; give up on himself and ask everyone else to do it too. Giving up wasn't a Fraser thing, not at all.

"Not getting away that easy, Fraser." Ray muttered, jigging up the steps. After the frigid spring air, stepping into the hospital was like stepping into an oven; it took Ray a moment to catch his breath and by the time he'd shook off his scarf and sneezed out the cold air, Vecchio was bearing down in him with Buck Frobisher close behind.

"I know, I got it," Ray held up his arms, showing off how harmless he was while Frobisher frowned at him. Vecchio shook his head and fell into step beside him as they headed towards the elevator.

"Quite the ruckus with the hospital staff," Frobisher started, and Ray started and Vecchio started, all of them off at once like all the apologies and accusations were some sort of race.

"I'm sorry, I'll apologize--very kindly and all--"

"Way to make Americans look real good there, Stanley--"

"Don't start with that, Vecchio. Do not--"

"--strictly limited to visitors hours, with myself or Constable McKenzie--"

"--and you're Catholic, would you let him just die there?"

"I wouldn't go around kicking nurses in the head--"

"Yeah, well you weren't there," Ray ground to a halt, they all did, just outside Fraser's room, door half closed as always and the soft sounds of machinery inside. His palms were sweating and Vecchio's irritation fell away to mixed worry and relief.

"Look, Kowalski," he said, shrugging his jacket back into line nervously. He had the same big circles under his eyes that Ray did--and Maggie, hell, even Frobisher was looking a little worn around the edges. Fraser had all these folks worrying and Ray bet he didn't believe it. "Benny, he's still a little out there, sometimes, okay? So, go easy."

Ray gave him a narrow look. "What you think I'm gonna kick him in the head for being stupid? Don't worry. He's gotta get better first, Vecchio."

Vecchio only grunted and pushed open the door and stepped in as Frobisher sat down outside with the latest RCMP quarterly, Ray trailed Vecchio with a grimace.

"Then I'm gonna kick him in the head that stupid no resuc--resuse--that no recall trick."

Ray found himself slowing down as Vecchio went around the curtain, like he didn't want to see Fraser. He was afraid to see what 'out there' meant. Was he fucked in the head? Jeez, the thought of Fraser ending up stupid like him made Ray's stomach churn. He couldn't see it, couldn't figure how Fraser--hero of the Canadian wilderness--could end up damaged. He squared his shoulders and stepped around to see what was up, 'cause when it came down to it, Fraser was his partner, no matter what.

"Ray," Fraser was just blinking sleepily up at Vecchio when Ray came around the curtain and he hesitated, studying Fraser nervously.

"Hey, Benny," Vecchio said, taking Ray's chair again and jerking a thumb over to Ray. "Bought you a present."

Ray gave Vecchio an all teeth smile. "You couldn't afford me."

Fraser was all slate-blue eyes and pasty skin and the look on his face made Ray's stomach flip; it was like dj^ vu all over again. Confusion, a who the hell are you look, just like the look on his face Ray had seen all those years ago in the 27. Scared the shit out of him but it was okay, it was okay. Alive Fraser not remembering him was better than dead Fraser or coma Fraser. But it was like Ray's whole life was wiped away there too, in the emptiness in Fraser's eyes.

"Hey Frase," he dug out some kind of smile and hung it on his face. "It's--uh-- Ray 2, the sequel, ya know?"

Fraser gave some kind of body twitch, like he was trying to move or sit up under all the bandages and braces then those eyes filled up with memory and spilled over with tears. "Ray," he said hoarsely.

"Frase," Ray choked out around the lump in his throat and leaned over to hug him gingerly, metal rail digging into his hip. Fraser smelled like medicine and bleach and the hospital, like a sick man. Ray turned his face into Fraser's tangled hair, inhaling like Dief looking for donuts and finally caught a whiff of what he remembered from the quest--Fraser smell, human, warm, alive. Fraser clutched at him with his good hand, trailing IV tubes, hitching Ray's name in a whisper.

"Uh--so--" Ray pulled back and hauled a chair up to the side of Fraser's bed, wiping his nose on his sleeve and avoiding Vecchio's eyes. He shook the thermos. "Bought you some of that tea, Frase, I figure you'll have plenty of time to enjoy the lichen Jell-O or whatever the hospital's giving you, later."

Fraser was pink, blinking hard and wiping at his eyes as hurriedly as he could. "Lichen Jell-O Ray?" His voice was rough. "Lichen is solely an emergency food, I'm sure they'd provide something with more nutritive value for their patients."

"Sure, so it's putaine under there, huh?" Ray jerked a thumb at the flesh colored covered tray next to Fraser's bed.

"I sincerely hope not," Fraser said. "I would like some tea, yes, thank you."

Sure, sure, let's get you sitting up," Vecchio was suddenly channeling Ma Vecchio; insisting on cooling the tea down until it was tepid and fussing over cups and straws, blankets and dangling IV lines while Fraser endured it with awkward, occasional confusion. Ray tried not to pay attention to the way Fraser asked him what the tea was three times in five minutes or the way he'd kinda glaze over in the middle of a sentence now and then. Vecchio worked the conversation like a pro and Ray followed along feeling like he was walking on glass between the unspoken threat of being banned from the hospital and watching Fraser be so so wounded. All the time Ray knew him, all the wildly bizarre ways they'd endangered their lives--Fraser had always bounced. But not this time. Just looking at him still scared the shit out of Ray, he could see how close Fraser had come to dying in the pallor and thinness, in the hard lines of pain at the edges of his mouth. About fifteen minutes after they'd come to visit, Fraser was out cold. Ray sat, elbows on knees, and watched him sleep. Fraser was his best buddy, the best damn friend he'd ever had, and he'd nearly died.

"So, they know why" Ray trailed off, making the crazy man guesture at his head and scowled at himself in disgust.

Vecchio shrugged, gaze still on Fraser's face. "Not so Maggie told me. He's only been talking sense the last day. He was hypothermic when they found him, she said that probably saved his life--slowed the bleeding--but it didn't do good things to his brain."

Ray looked at Fraser's right hand, still bandaged and looking wrong cause he'd lost some fingers. Frostbite. He knew that, had a taste of it during the quest but Fraser had taken care of him, kept him safe and whole. Anger prickled over his skin and Ray had to move, do something to keep it under wraps, he pushed his chair back and paced back and forth in front of the window. "Fucking partner left him there."

"You know Benny," Vecchio said wearily. "Probably told the guy some Inuit story and sent him along."

"Fuck, yeah," Ray leaned against the wall, pressing his fist against the window and feeling the cold bite against his skin. Fraser's partner had left him, alone, but it felt like Ray had left him. Like Ray should've been there--like it was his fault Fraser had gone and been a hero all by himself. He was Fraser's partner, and he couldn't shake the guilt and the blame and the anger. He should've been there; Chicago and take-out didn't mean shit, he should've been with Fraser. Ray leaned against the icy glass, hoping the cold would shock the guilt away.

He knew very well that he was havingproblems. It was the window, the one near his bed, which revealed the truth. He could watch the day blink by like a strobe--morning light then blink afternoon, then blink night dark and he knew he was losing time. Moments, hours, maybe days, Fraser didn't know and no one wanted to tell him. It was truly maddening and his physical helplessness left him at the mercy of nurses and doctors and visiting hours and with no freedom at all.

Fraser tried to retain his courtesy, to quiet the growing fear about his own recovery, but he was sadly aware that he was rather sharp at times. It was very difficult not to ask questions but more difficult to watch his visitors struggle to avoid answering him. If Fraser had ever doubted Ray Vecchio's ability to withhold information without seeming to--an ability that must have been invaluable when he was undercover--watching him work their visits together banished any lingering doubts. It would have been a pleasure to watch, if Fraser weren't the one involved. Maggie, well, it was clear his sister was under so much strain that Fraser simply didn't have the courage--or the energy--to try and pressure her. She'd already done so much for him. Ray, his Ray, those visits were difficult, Ray fidgeted in familiar, and missed, frustration and he'd smile and shrug and tell him "I'm just makin' friends everywhere I go, Frase, don't worry about it."

Of course, he had little to do besides worry--when he had the ability to think at all. So, he concentrated on his uncooperative body, determined to regain his dignity and self-control and cease being a burden. Then perhaps, his friends would cease treating him like a child.

"Hey, Benny," Vecchio said softly, peering around the privacy curtain as if he were afraid Fraser might be busy. Fraser set the exercise ball down in his lap and smiled, gesturing to the empty seat closest to his bed.

"Good--" Fraser stole a glance at the window, uncertain--as he often was--of the time of day. "--afternoon, Ray."

"They're putting you to work already huh?" Ray nodded at the palm sized red ball and Fraser picked up, squeezing it then rotating his wrist, feeling the pull of stiff tendons. He switched it to his other hand, performing the same exercise only to have the ball pop out of hand as he misjudged his grip due to the missing fingers. Ray Vecchio fetched it as the ball bounced towards the far corner, tossing it casually from hand to hand. Fraser lowered his eyes, rubbing at his wrist to hide his unreasonable resentment. Ray was not showing off, he was simply acting as a normal, healthy and whole person.

"Indeed," he managed, taking the ball back and setting it in his lap. "the physical therapists have been by and arranged a schedule to their satisfaction. I must say I'm rather looking forward to anything beyond this bed."

Yeah, you're looking good, Benny," Vecchio said, running a nervous hand over his head, and smirked at Fraser's exasperated look. "C'mon--they aren't going to need a pick-up truck to carry all the tubes and wires anymore."

Fraser let out a breath; his catheter had been removed this morning and being freed of that indignity was a relief but it also came with a host of new discomforts. It had been over two weeks, between his coma and his injuries, since he'd done much moving at all and he hurt all over. His back had already gone into spasms once and instead of the stretches he used to use to combat the discomfort, he'd simply been drugged back into a hazy doze.

"Very true," he agreed, studying Vecchio and his fidgets. "What is it, Ray?"

"Benny--" Vecchio sighed, expression falling into misery and exhaustion. "I gotta go home."

Fraser was grateful Ray was looking at his hands because he knew his face revealed more than Fraser wished Ray to see. Those small words, and they should not have been unexpected, hit him like a blow to his chest--no, deeper-- like a blow to his heart. He managed to regain control of himself before Vecchio looked up and nodded when Ray's eyes met his.

"God, Benny, I don't want to but I have a business to run, a wife--"

"Of course," Fraser said softly, voice gratifyingly level. Ray looked miserable, guilt stricken, and it hurt to see it. "I understand and, as you noted, I'm recovering quite nicely."

He held out his undamaged hand and Ray's fingers were warm on his own. "Ray, please, you're company has been very welcome, don't feel guilty because you must return to your life."

"I know, but Benny, I feel like I'm always leaving you in the lurch here."

Because Fraser felt the same, it took him a moment to find something to say. "No, Ray. You came when I needed you here. You have a family and responsibilities--"

"Hey, you're my family too, Benny. Like my brother and don't you forget it, Ma's been saying novenas for you every Sunday."

Fraser smiled faintly, "Clearly I have no worries then."

"Yeah, with Ma on your side, even God's going to toe the line, huh?" Vecchio leaned over to hug him, hard enough to wake Fraser's assorted injuries, he welcomed the touch and hugged back. "Benny--Benny, take care of yourself huh? No more stupid tricks, got it? I don't have anymore hair to pull out over you."

They parted awkwardly. "Got it, Ray. You do the same."

Vecchio shrugged, "Not much chance of trouble in a bowling alley."

"Ah," Fraser said, because he couldn't recall what a bowling alley had to do with anything and suspected that he should. Instead, he looked attentive and smiled when Vecchio promised to call before his flight left to check in one last time.

When the room returned to it's usual empty silence, Fraser watched the daylight pass and wished, for once, that his unreliable brain would let him forget just how much it hurt when Ray turned away from him. Instead, it seemed he was to be punished with every moment of every empty hour.

TBC

End Long Journey Home 6/? by XTricks: x_tricks2000@yahoo.com

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