Disclaimer: Not my boy, but I'm playing with him anyway.

Author's Notes: Written for the Flashfiction Queer Challenge. Heartofdavid and Lucifercircle were the betas for this and I love them for it. More than they know.

Story Notes: It's only PG for the language.

What did she mean by that? "Because I'm here, because I'm here, because I'm queer?" What was that? What's that supposed to mean; queer?

Did she mean I'm some kind of a freak for coming? Like maybe she thinks I just wanted to gloat? `Cause if that's it, she wasn't looking at me. Gloating does not look like me right now.

Fuck, I've been this close to crying for days. I'm not gonna, though. No way. I'm a Kowalski. I can deal with this. Plus, Fraser's got my back, you know? I gotta be cool. He's got this thing. Like he knows I can be a superhero or something and I gotta try. No way am I gonna let him down. He wouldn't let me down, you know? So I can suck it up, be tough, make him proud.

So if it wasn't that...

She said she thought I was looking for forgiveness, but that ain't it. That's not what she means. Why would she think I was queer for that? I mean, that'd be a normal thing, yeah? Except why now? After she'd almost been put down like a fucking dog four times, already. It gets harder for me each time and I'm not the one taking that walk, you know? Gotta be hell for her.

Even I think it's queer that I waited so long. I shoulda been there before this. I shoulda been asking these questions for the last eight years. But I didn't even think about that piece of paper. Just assumed it was all good, because Sam told me it was. I thought she really was guilty and I was just...dunno. Not dealing with being the one who put her there. I'm a dumb fuck.

I mean, sure I was freaked about seeing my first body. And yeah, I was kinda happy that I had my first solve, you know? But it wasn't a solve, was it? It was a disaster is what it was. And it's eating me up now. It gets worse each time she's up for the needle. I gotta find answers here. I gotta fix this. She can't die, or I really am a murderer. `Cause she didn't do it, and how did I not see that before?

What the fuck did she mean I'm queer?

Me and Fraser didn't even touch or look at each other or anything in there. I couldn't look at him. I look at him and I see this perfect person, you know? Like, he would never screw up like I did and take eight fucking years to figure it out and still need someone else to tell him what he did wrong. Plus, he didn't even look at me like I'm an idiot or anything when the penny dropped. He just acted like we got a lead on any normal case and never said a word when I dragged him all over Chicago looking for that piece of paper that nobody wanted us to find. And he found it! He fucking found it! Well, I found it. But he told me where to look. Which is the same as finding it.

If anyone's queer it's Fraser. Him and Vecchio arrested some guy once and then Fraser bailed him out again; got him off the charges in the end. And now he's helping me do the same thing, sort of. Only he didn't let that guy go through hell for years first. `Cause he's perfect. He's so fucking perfect that it hurts to be near him right now.

Fuck! I hope he gets that crime scene tape. I couldn't look him in the eye if we don't get her off. Don't even think I could look at myself in the mirror, and hey, I know I'm a screw up. Fraser, he looks at me like I'm...I don't know. Like I'm some kind of perfect. Like the way I look at him when I think he's not looking.

So, what the fuck did she mean, I'm queer?