Disclaimer: This work is not intended as an infringement upon the rights of those that own these characters and is meant solely for non-profit entertainment purposes only.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Would someone please save me from a particularly stubborn, always thinking of others, blue-eyed, dark-haired, and gorgeous as hell Mountie?

Pulling out of the gas station's parking lot, I glance at Fraser before changing lanes. "Look, it's a routine call. Some kids vandalizing a vacant building. I'm sure Hansen can handle it with one hand tied behind his back. Not to mention, it's in the opposite direction of where we're heading."

I tip-toe my fingers across the seat and claim Fraser's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. This familiar move is rewarded with a smile that absolutely curls my toes, and if you want to know the honest to God truth, I'll never get enough of those smiles. Not in this lifetime, at least.

Tearing my eyes away from Fraser's kissable lips, I refocus my concentration on the highway. "Besides, do I need to remind you that we're already late for our weekly get-together with your girlfriends?"

How I got myself wrangled into keeping tabs on a group of old ladies is beyond me. Hell, it wasn't even me that had anything to do with helping them set up a neighborhood watch. That was before my time, back when Fraser was paired with Vecchio. But ever since the two of us hooked up, I've been going with him to check on the members of what I call his `Fab Five Fan Club.' There's about five or so women that really clicked with Fraser, and we head over to the community center at least once a week, where we play cards, chat and basically check to see how they're all doing.

"Frase, you know how upset Gladys gets when we're late, and I don't know about you or Dief, but I'd prefer *not* to have my ass paddled by an 83 year-old cane-totin' granny. Those damn knitting needles of hers hurt like hell."

My ass twitches at the thought and for a second I can't help but squirm in my seat. "Why is it she always assumes it's *my* fault we're late? Last time I checked I wasn't the only member of this pack. And just `cause you played Superman for them once don't mean you're invaluable."

"Infallible, Ray."

"Yeah, that, too." I thank Fraser with a swift pat to his knee. "I mean as rare as it may be, you *do* make mistakes, and it's only fair that your ass should get its fair dose of punishment, especially if you're the reason we're late for tonight's poker game." A thought crosses my mind, and the next pat to Fraser's knee becomes a slap of frustration. "Speaking of games, if one more of those old biddies challenges me to a game of strip poker, I'm gonna---"

"Ray?"

"Yeah?" A jackass pedestrian jaywalking distracts my attention for a moment. "Yeah, Frase?"

"Ray, would you be so kind as to turn the car around so that we might offer our assistance to Officer Hansen?"

Damnation, I so need to figure out a way to market my lover's puppy-dog eyes. Christ, I'd make a fortune for sure.

Knowing without a doubt that I'm waging a hopeless battle, I make a quick U-turn and glare at Fraser when he opens his mouth to enlighten me of my illegal maneuver. "Okay," I say with just the tiniest bit of pissiness in my voice, "we'll go see if Hansen needs help, but I tell you what, I am *not* taking the heat for this one. You're gonna be the one to explain to the Granny Gestapo why we're late. Of course, knowing your luck, they'll declare you some hero and shower you with fresh-baked goodies, which by the way you better darn well share with me and Dief. We're the three musketeers, right, and what one gets---"

"Ray?"

"What now? I turned the car `round like you asked. Yeah, I made that illegal U-turn, but at least I didn't plow through this red light. I stopped like a good boy. What else can you possibly want now?"

"This."

"Huh? Oh . . . I . . . Fra---"

Oh yeah. Market those eyes *and* those lips, and it'll be good-bye Bill Gates, hello zillionaire Raymond Kowalski.

"Ummm."

Man, I love the way Fraser licks his lips after we kiss. It's like he's searching for a final taste of me. "That's fighting dirty, Frase, kissin' me and such."

"Indeed?"

Make that stubborn, always thinking of others, blue-eyed, dark-haired, gorgeous as hell *and* smug Mountie. But hey, who cares, especially when said Mountie is expertly groping my dick.

Yep, yep. I do believe I'll forgive Mr. Smugmeister.

"Frase?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"I'm thinking once we finish checking on Hansen, you and I could go up on the roof of the Marquette Building. We haven't been there since we first started dating." Taking advantage of another red light, I scoot as close to Fraser as my seatbelt will allow and nibble on his earlobe. "There's a full moon out tonight. How `bout it, Gorgeous? Say yes, and I'll show you just how much I appreciate all those delicious home-cooked lunches you've been preparing for me this past week." Nobody makes mac-n-cheese like my man here.

"Won't your demonstration of gratitude prevent us from keeping our appointed social engagement? What about Gladys?"

Fraser's voice has dropped real low and is just a bit raspy, sorta like how it sounds after he's deep-throated me for hours on end. It absolutely sets me on fire, not to mention adds lead to the foot currently on the gas pedal. One look at Fraser licking his lips again and I suddenly feel the need for speed. The smell of burnt rubber wafts through my window as I peel away. "Gladys will just have to find some other schmuck to be her knitting partner. I do believe I'll be engaged otherwise."

"Ray, you are impossible."

Sneaking a hand between Fraser's legs, I do some groping of my own and grin at the blush that immediately spreads across my lover's face. "Actually, I'd say I'm horny as hell and ready to fuck all night long. Got a word for that, Mr. Brainiac?"

"Ray!"

+++++++

A routine call. A fucking routine call that became anything but routine the second Fraser saw the kid hiding behind Hansen.

Seems Hansen did need assistance, heavenly assistance that is. Poor guy walked into a drug buy that escalated into a shoot-out and forfeited his life because he wouldn't wait for backup. I'd radioed that we were on our way, but the old fool was unwilling to cool his heels. You know people say patience is a virtue. Well, they also need to say it'll save your life. Maybe if they said it that way, Hansen wouldn't be face down dead in a pool of blood, and Fraser wouldn't be lying next to him, his right shoulder sporting a bullet wound the size of Lake Michigan.

Jesus Christ Almighty, how did things get out of control so damn fast?

"Kid, put the gun down."

I step in front of Fraser and hold my hand out to the boy aiming a gun at my lover's head. He can't be any older than fifteen. Shit! Fifteen and already a cop killer. What the hell is this world coming to when babies start murdering the good guys so they can score some fucking dope?

"Please, kid. Put the gun down."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the dark patch of blood staining the shoulder of Fraser's uniform jacket growing wider and wider by the second, and my heart stutters to a stop when the call to rescue my mate from further harm becomes a deafening roar in my ears. Tightening the grip on my gun, I inch closer to the teen. "Don't make this any worse than it already is, kid. You've killed one cop. Let's not make it two."

I hear the sound of the pistol's hammer cock at the same moment I see the red dot slide into place over the boy's heart. Thank God some busybody called the cavalry. The shot aimed at Fraser goes wide when the sharpshooter's bullet slams into the youth, knocking him back several feet. The instant the kid's gun fires, I dive to the side and cover Fraser's injured body with my own, the only thought racing through my mind is that of protecting my partner and mate at any cost.

At. Any. Cost.

There's an eruption of sound and movement as officers swarm the area, but the only thing I can focus on is the familiar sound of Fraser's heartbeat. I clutch his arms and bury my face in the crook of his neck, not caring who sees my uncontrolled display of emotion.

"It's over, Frase. You're okay. I've got you."

"I knew you would come, Ray. I had no doubt, whatsoever."

Fraser somehow finds the strength to lift his hand and tangle it in my hair, offering me the comfort of his touch. Can you believe it? He's the one injured. I should be comforting him, not the other way around.

Finally the ambulance crew arrives, and I forcibly remove myself from Fraser, allowing them to tend to his wound. The second they declare him fit to move, Fraser grabs my hand and refuses to let go. Even when they load him onto the stretcher and then into the ambulance, he maintains a bone-crushing grip on my hand. That's greatness with me. I wasn't letting go of him either, not now, not ever.

Heaven better damn well take notice.

+++++++

"Do you need something else for the pain, Frase?"

It's been five hours since the shooting, four of those spent waiting for Fraser to get out of surgery and into a room. The long vigil was spent in the company of friends and co-workers, not to mention the Granny Gestapo, who naturally arrived laden with tons of get-well gifts.

The second after they took Fraser into surgery, I made a few calls, one of them being to the community center. You know how grandmothers tend to worry, and since those ladies consider us their adopted grandsons, I knew I had to tell them why we wouldn't be keeping our date. The old gals made it to the hospital in record time, because, according to Mrs. Chaffey, they laid on both the gas and the horn, and ran every darn red light along the way.

"I can go get the nurse if you're hurting." My fingers slowly glide up Fraser's bare arm and trace the edges of the bandage peeking out from beneath the knitted blanket Gladys insisted I cover Fraser with. It's a pretty nice blanket, but wait `til Fraser gets a look at those new socks he's wearing on his feet.

"I appreciate you asking, Ray, but the pain is somewhat bearable at this moment."

Fraser glances around the room, and I can tell he's confused by the wealth of flowers and gifts. "What can I say, babe? You're a popular guy."

Pointing to the not one but two bedside tables that are positioned at the foot of the bed, I enlighten him as to what's what. "The fruit basket is from Turnbull, and he said to make sure you eat every single piece for it will help speed your recovery. Personally, I'd stay away from the apples. I know an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but I swear I saw a worm wiggle out of the one on top."

Moving on, I indicate the flower arrangements. "The really nice one is from the gang at work. I'd show you the card they sent, but it's x-rated, and you might pull a stitch laughing. We'll save it for when you're up to doing what it says will make you feel all better." I waggle my eyebrows at Fraser and grin when he blushes with embarrassment. "You'll enjoy it, Frase. Believe me, you'll enjoy it."

My hackles rise when I point at the next bunch of flowers. "Now, the extremely hideous arrangement with the `I love you' balloons is courtesy of, you guessed it, Frannie. `Nuff said about that." I dismiss the arrangement with a curt wave of my hand. "The cookies, fudge and cakes are from your girlfriends, who by the way took Dief home with them. Can I tell ya he was none too happy about leaving all those goodies behind?"

Fraser chuckles, but his smile is tinged with pain, and I immediately ring for the nurse. Since needles freak me out, I slide off the bed and busy myself removing Frannie's flowers to farthest corner of the room while Florence Nightingale does her thing. I'd really like to pitch the flowers out the window, but I know it would upset Fraser, and he sure as hell doesn't need upsetting at this particular moment. I take out my frustration by puncturing each one of the balloons with my pocket knife. Nobody but me showers Fraser with declarations of love.

"I saw that, Ray."

The nurse has left the room, and with a not so contrite grin on my face, I resume my seat on the edge of Fraser's bed. "You'd think she'd get the hint by now. Jesus, Frase, we've been living together as a committed couple for the last two years. Are all Vecchios that dense in the head?"

Frannie's infatuation with my man is an extremely sore subject with me, and Fraser wisely closes the conversation with a simple, "She means well, Ray."

Seeing the determined glint in Fraser's eyes, I know it's time to move on to something else. "How's your feet doing? Are they toasty warm?"

"My feet were not injured in the altercation, Ray. Why would you be inquiring as to their condition?"

"Take a peak, and you'll find out why." I lift the covers off Fraser's lower legs and grin at the gasp he lets out.

"Oh my."

"Yep. That about says it all." I lower the covers and carefully straighten them back to their original pristine condition before moving toward the head of the bed and bumping hips with Fraser. "I do believe the old girl is color-blind," I declare with a smile after Fraser scoots over and makes room for me to sit beside him on the bed.

"Undoubtedly, but it's the thought that counts, Ray."

"Tell that to Dief next time he comes home wearing one of her latest creations."

Fraser snuggles closer to me, and I gently wrap my arm around his waist. "You feelin' a little bit better now?"

"Much. Thank you."

Kissing Fraser's forehead, I whisper, "You're welcome."

Minutes pass as we take comfort in each other's presence and just when I'm figuring Fraser's dropped off to sleep, he says, "Please remind me to send everyone a thank-you card when I am released from the hospital."

"You got it, Gorgeous."

Fraser turns his head and presses a tender kiss to my cheek. "And while we're on the subject of offering wishes of appreciation, have I thanked you for saving me once again?"

All of a sudden the words stick in my throat, and I can't speak. The only answer I can offer Fraser is a firm squeeze of his hand.

"Good thing I am not a cat, Ray." My lover shares a conspiratorial grin with me. "That would have been my ninth and last life if you had not shown up when you did." Fraser, with a nod of his head, indicates the pink plastic water pitcher on the stand beside his bed. "May I please have a drink of water, Ray?"

Fraser's words echo in my head as I pour him a glass of water.

Last life, last life, last life.

The reality of the situation hits home like a wrecking ball to my heart, and I drop the glass, watching in shock as my hands begin to shake uncontrollably. My knees suddenly turn to jelly, and I can hear Fraser calling to me from a distance as I stumble back against the wall and slide down until I'm sitting on my ass. The image of Fraser lying on that filthy cold cement floor, blood staining the red serge of his uniform torments my mind, and I can't stop the broken whispers that spill out of my mouth.

"Last life, last life."

Tears flood my eyes as I curl in on myself and give into the fear, the anger, the horror of living a life without the man I love. My body is suddenly ice cold, and my heart is racing so fast it chokes off my breath. The room begins to gray around the edges leaving a tunnel of vision through which all I can see is Fraser, Fraser dying, Fraser dead.

"No! No! NO!"

I don't even realize I'm yelling until Fraser closes my mouth with a kiss.

"Ray. I am right here. I am *not* dead."

And he is, Fraser's right there on the floor with me, alive and breathing and squeezing the shit out of my hand. How the hell he maneuvered himself out of that hospital bed, I'll never know.

Ignoring his injured shoulder, Fraser pulls me into his arms in an attempt to shelter me from the nightmare that refuses to let go of my mind. "Ray, look at me. Open your eyes, and look at me."

With his thumbs, Fraser brushes the tears from my cheeks as he lifts my head. I devour the love shining from his blue eyes and the gentle smile that graces his handsome face. Again, I clutch at his arms, lowering my head so that I can listen to the strong beat of his heart. It's the sound I go to sleep with every night and the one I wake up to every morning. It's a sound I'm not sure I could live without.

"Do you hear it, Ray? Can you hear my heart beating?" Fraser holds my head to his chest with one hand while his other clumsily sweeps up and down my back, soothing the tremors I can't seem control. "You'll be hearing that sound for many more years to come, Ray. Believe me."

`Promise me, Fraser,' I want to scream. `Promise me you'll never die, never leave me.' It's a hopeless plea, I know, a promise our line of work won't let us keep.

Fraser helps me to my feet and, instead of letting me go, he guides me to his hospital bed and tucks me under the covers, spooning in behind me before I can find the words to protest. He then starts clucking like the mother hen he can sometimes be while capturing my hands and holding them tight as he plants soft kisses up my neck and behind my ear.

I know I should get out of Fraser's bed. Hell, he just had surgery. He needs his rest, not to mention he's in no fucking shape to be coddling my wimpy ass. But I'm so cold, so scared, I don't think I could move even if I wanted to. "Frase?"

Fraser buries his face in the curve of my shoulder and worms his hand beneath my shirt, placing it over my racing heart. "I am not going anywhere, Ray. I will remain with you for as long as I draw breath."

I snuggle closer to my mate and close my eyes, every muscle in my body collapsing with exhaustion. Fraser's not leaving. Not at this moment, and not, hopefully, for a very long time.

Placing my hand over the one Fraser has tucked under my shirt, I finally give into Mr. Sandman's call. My brain focuses on only one thought as I slide into sleep.

Heaven will have to find itself another angel. This one is hanging out with me.

~finis~

Author's note: The Marquette Building is a Chicago historical landmark built in 1895. The building is named for Jacques Marquette, a French Jesuit missionary and explorer who, in 1674-75, wintered in the area that is now Chicago. The lobby is decorated with mosaic panels made by the Tiffany firm and bronze heads of Native Americans, animals, and early explorers. Seems like just the type of building Fraser would like to investigate.