Disclaimer: I don't own Fraser & Ray, no money made.

Author's Notes: AU

Home

Ray hates books - he always has and always will. Books make him look geeky because of the glasses he has to put on to make sense of the words. Geeky and a bit stupid. He isn't one for learning out of books anyway; he's a learning-by-doing kind of guy.

So, Ray hates books and he hates the library - it makes him look small with its huge columns out front, its rooms filled with knowledge and ugly old ladies hissing to be quiet. Scares the hell out of him. He hasn't been at the library since he left high school - there was never any need for it. Until now. Because now he suddenly is a divorced man with an ex-wife stomping all over his heart, leaving just a few stale crumbs of his former life. A life he has loved - a house with a white fence around it, a backyard where future children were supposed to run around someday, a small business and a lovely wife.

Kaput.

Is no more.

His lovely wife turned out to be resentful and bored by their normal life. Suddenly she didn't want to be a mother to their children, but an attorney. She wanted to make a life of her own, and get rid of all they had, Ray included.

Stella.

His Gold Coast Girl.

She has broken, no...stomped on his heart, a heart which has beaten just for her since he met her at the age of thirteen.

And Stella, of course, is the reason Ray is standing in front of the Public Library of Chicago right now. Because Ray has decided he's done with Stella, with Chicago, with this whole country even. The US of A isn't big enough for The Stella and his shattered heart.

He might be blowing it out of proportion but Ray has nothing left to lose so why not start from scratch: a new life, a brand new country.

It isn't like Ray would pack up his stuff and leave tomorrow, no, but he has decided on a change of scenery and it's always good to be informed, to know where he could go from here.

That's where the library comes into play.

Ray steps through the front door, his eyes fixed up front because he doesn't want to see how huge this place is. His footsteps echo on the floor and Ray is making way too much noise already. His hands start sweating and Ray's heart tries to escape his chest - get a grip already, he tells himself, straightening his shoulders. He won't leave the library until he finds what he is looking for - a new place for him: Stanley Raymond Kowalski.

"Excuse me, Sir, may I help you?"

A gentle voice makes Ray almost jump out of his skin and a firm hand on Ray's shoulder prevents him from falling on his ass.

"Jesus!" Ray swears and jumps away from the hand that's burning the skin under his thin cotton shirt.

"I'm truly sorry to startle you," the man says, his left hand halfway to his eyebrow. "I was under the impression you may need directions."

"Jeez, you have to give a guy some warning," Ray's heart is still racing and he eyes the stranger suspiciously. Maybe he's a library kidnapper or something. Who knows what strange people walk these scary halls?

But the guy looks pretty harmless, and anyway, he would have to let go of the books under his arm to do anything to Ray but look. And he does look, out of sparkling blue-grey eyes.

"My apology," the guy says again, juggling with his dozen or so books.

"You read all that stuff?" Ray asks, pointing at the pile.

"Certainly. I am an employee of this library," he touches a name tag on his chest. "Benton Fraser."

"Oh."

So Ray has found one of the ugly ladies he was so afraid of. Turns out some things have changed since he was here last. This man is neither a lady, obviously, nor remotely ugly.

Benton Fraser is Ray's height with dark curly hair and intelligent-looking eyes. He's built, Ray thinks. Not like someone pumping iron or anything but more massive, solid, than Ray with his lithe wiry form. His clothing, on the other hand, makes him belong to this ancient building - a white heavy cotton shirt, that makes Ray sweat just looking at it, tucked into brown tweed pants.

"May I be of any assistance then?" Fraser interrupts Ray's musing, his cheeks still pink with embarrassment?

"Yeah, I'm looking for ... y'know," Ray nervously rolls on the back of his heels, "travelling stuff, guidebooks, maps or something."

"Ah, I see. Our travel guide section is situated on the third floor to the right." Fraser points toward a flight of stone stairs, moving with Ray. "Perhaps I may lend you a hand with what you are looking for?"

It's a polite offer but something about it makes Ray hesitant; he doesn't need any help planning his future. Especially when he doesn't know himself what he's looking for exactly.

"Nah, thanks," Ray declines. "I'm good."

"Certainly," Fraser acknowledges but falls into step beside Ray anyway.

"Are you following me?" Ray is not sure what to make of this guy. He doesn't feel threatened or anything but he's a grown man and able to get to the third floor by himself.

"No, of course, not. I merely have the same destination."

"Okay," Ray lets it go, kind of enjoying how they walk easily together up the stairs, shoulder to shoulder. They are so close Ray can feel the body heat Fraser is radiating, and frowns as to why all of sudden he's even recognising something like that about another person...another man.

"Everything you might need, you can find here," Fraser points to their right, down a passage. "Please don't hesitate to contact me if you need any help," he offers again. "Good day," he says and walks along the long floor leaving Ray standing in front of huge shelves packed with books - small ones, illustrated books, weighty tomes.

Ray touches his fingers along their spines while he walks through the hall - Aruba, Brazil, Cuba ... and where the hell are Tuktuyatuk or Rano-Raraku anyway? Ray has no clue; he had no idea he'd have so many choices, either.

Maybe somewhere warm would be good, he thinks, winter in Chicago is one hell of an experience and he could certainly live without it.

What about the Dominican Republic then? Ray had always wanted to go there with Stella and ... Stella. No! No, Dominican Republic!

Mexico is out of the question too.

Brazil sounds nice, and Ray grabs an illustrated book advertising Carnival in Rio with a beautiful woman on its cover.

All right, Brazil at least looks promising but Ray looks further. He doesn't know for how long he's been walking up and down the aisles, reading names like Australia and Italy, Laos and Samoa, not even thinking about where on earth these countries are, just grabbing books left and right.

Ray's arms are packed when he turns toward some reading tables and walks right into someone, his carefully stacked books toppling over his arms to the ground.

"Oh dear!"

Ray doesn't even have to look up from the floor to know who's in front of him.

"It's you again."

"I'm afraid so, yes," Fraser kneels beside Ray, helping him to get his books.

"So, you are following me," Ray teases lightly.

"I was merely ...," embarrassed cough. "Yes!"

Ray is stunned for a second.

"Really?"

"I'm working here after all," Fraser explains, steering Ray and his reading material to the nearest table, "and it would be rather rude of me to not offer my advice, if needed, in finding the perfect place for you to go."

"Huh?"

Ray's confused. Is this guy a mind reader? He hasn't said anything about his plans and ...

"Place?"

"For your vacation," Fraser clarifies, his left hand lifting to rub over his eyebrow.

"Oh," Ray grins relieved. "Yeah, `course, my vacation."

"I see you haven't decided on your destination yet," Fraser points at all the different books on the table.

"No, I ...," Ray hesitates. "No, I haven't."

"Ah."

What's that supposed to mean anyway?

"Perhaps if you could describe what you are looking for?" Fraser suggests.

"I dunno," Ray shrugs his shoulder. "Warm," he says, "it could be warm."

"Warm?" Fraser frowns. "Like subtropics or tropics perhaps?"

"Huh?" That's exactly why Ray hates libraries, words like `subtropics'. "I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Subtropics and tropics are climes. It's a definition of... it's not important," Fraser tugs at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably, "Florida is quite lovely at this time of year."

"Florida?"

"Certainly," Fraser nods seriously. "I have heard..."

"You heard?"

"Yes!"

"So, you haven't actually been there?"

"No, I have not but ..."

"How could you tell then?"

"I assure you, I'm qualified to ..."

"Means you read about it?"

"Yes, Yes, I did. It was quite a reliable source and considering the huge population of your elderly retiring there ..."

"Elderly?"

"People of advancing years" there is the eyebrow rub again and Ray is enjoying their banter more than he probably should, considering that Fraser wanted him to move to a nursing home.

"I won't move into an old people's home!"

"I wasn't suggesting ...," Fraser stops his words abruptly and Ray tries not toppling over laughing.

Oh, he hadn't that much fun in a long time.

"Am I amusing you?" There is small spark of amusement in Fraser's eye.

"Yes! ... No!" Ray tries to get his breath. "Look ..., Fraser, I'm not making fun of you," he assures, "I'm just ... Ray."

"Ray?"

"That's my name. Ray."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Ray," Fraser smiles, reaching out his hand which Ray eagerly takes.

"Florida, huh?"

"I was merely trying to help, Ray."

"Yeah, sorry," Ray finally sits down, pushing his books back and forth. "I've got no clue about the whole thing," he admits.

"Perhaps you may consult your ... wife or girlfriend," Fraser suggests, rubbing his eyebrow. If he keeps it up there won't be an eyebrow to rub any time soon, Ray thinks before his brain catches up with what Fraser has actually said.

"No wife or anything," he says. "Just me."

"Ah, I see." Fraser smiles shyly, pushing a book about Brazil closer to Ray. "Perhaps one of your books may give you an idea. I will leave you to it then, Ray," he says and turns, leaving Ray alone with a bunch of books he really doesn't want to read anymore.

A book is just a bunch of papers, it would never replace a warm human voice talking to him and Ray's quite sure Fraser would know anything - even more - than is written here.

Heavy-hearted, Ray grabs the first book from the table and starts reading.

An hour goes by and everything he reads about seems so unreal like places which don't exist in real life - white beaches, palm trees, the ocean. It's nowhere Ray pictures himself living.

Life isn't just beaches and sun. Life is ugly and tough and full of shattered dreams

"I'm terribly sorry. We're closing in ten minutes." Fraser's voice suddenly reaches his ear and Ray lifts his head from where is must haven fallen onto the table a while ago.

"Sorry," he whispers, standing up.

"It's quite all right," Fraser says. "Did you find anything appealing?"

"No," Ray grabs his books. "Nothing."

"You can take these with you," Fraser hands him his books. "Perhaps with a little more time you will find what you're looking for."

Fraser's voice is kind and soothing, exactly what Ray doesn't need right now. He's feeling like he has failed his future life already.

"Maybe," he mumbles. "Bye, Fraser," and Ray walks away, the books heavy in his arm.

"Would you like to get something to eat with me?"

Ray has almost reached the stairs; he turns around, looking at a rather flushed-faced Fraser.

"What?"

"Dinner," Fraser stammers. "I ... perhaps you would like some company. There is a nice Chinese restaurant around the corner."

Dinner?

Ray hadn't had dinner with anyone since Stella left and it really isn't such a good idea at all with him leaving town and everything.

"Yeah, why not," Ray accepts, shrugging his shoulders. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Fraser smiles and walks toward him. "I'll meet you out the front of the building in ten minutes."

So, Ray takes his books to his pickup truck. Diefenbaker is in his usual spot on the truck's bad, snoring softly, an empty snickers packet next to his nose - This was Stella's joke of a kid.

"Hey, mutt," Ray greets his dog who looks up, lolling his tongue, tail waving wildly. "You doing okay?"

Diefenbaker licks his face, a habit Ray stopped trying to break some time ago. At least someone is showing him some affection.

"Yeah, I like you too," Ray pets Dief's head, seeking comfort in his dog's presence, his eyes closed.

"Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser has emerged, his ancient outfit completed with an equally brown tweed jacket over his white shirt.

"You look like a lit prof," Ray mumbles, his head still resting on Diefenbaker's body.

"I am."

"You are what?"

"A professor for literature," Fraser says seriously, peering at Diefenbaker who tries to get out of Ray's reach to greet Fraser.

"You're kidding me."

"No, I'm not, Ray," Fraser assures, still looking at Diefenbaker. "Ray, is that a half-wolf?"

"Dunno," Ray shrugs his shoulders. "My ex-wife brought him home some day, a substitute for the kid I wanted."

"That was rather cruel of her, I imagine," Fraser says, stepping closer to the truck, scratching Diefenbaker's ear.

"It's done," Ray whispers, swaying between the warmth of Diefenbaker and Fraser who's standing closer than necessary for two people having a decent conversation. But Ray doesn't mind, he hasn't had much contact with anyone for some time. "She left. That was also cruel"

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"If you would rather be alone...," Fraser starts, his voice uncertain, and Ray realises that he's holding onto his dog like a drowning man, he hates being like this. He pushes away and up, straightening his shoulders.

"No," he says, trying for a smile. "No, I would really like to eat with you."

"Good," Fraser smiles back shyly. "If you would follow me then," and he leads the way around the corner to the Chinese restaurant.

Diefenbaker follows Ray, glancing up at his master in some kind of amusement when Fraser holds the door for them to let them step in first before he enters himself, greeting their waitress in Chinese, no less.

Turns out having dinner with Benton Fraser is the best idea Ray has had so far, except for the moving thing that is. He's forgetting about the new life he has yet to find for himself, about Stella, just about everything else. He's sitting opposite the most interesting person he has ever met.

Benton Fraser is smart - you wouldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth - and he doesn't look down on Ray like Stella sometimes did when the right words failed him, which happened quite often. And he's funny too. Not laughing-out-loud funny, but he has the kind of dry humour Ray gets and likes.

Ray likes Benton Fraser.

He really does.

Yes, Benton Fraser works at a library which Ray hates - maybe not anymore - and he is into books like Shakespeare and Hemingway, big stuff Ray could never make sense of, but there is something about him that reminds Ray of himself. Some sadness that peeks through.

Maybe they aren't all that different after all.

"Lit prof, huh?"

"Yes, Ray," and for the first time Fraser doesn't burst out into a detailed answer/explanation like he has done all evening. At least not until Ray raises an eyebrow in question which makes Fraser fidgeting with his napkin. "I came to Chicago in search of employment after an incident - scandal, really - at my last place of work, involving my former dean and a woman I felt attached to," he coughs like admitting in being screwed over is some sort of a shame. "And for reasons that don't to be explained at this juncture I decided to rather take employment in a library than a university." Meaning, books can't mess with him where people he worked with obviously did.

Damn, Ray curses inside, thinking about something to get them back on an easier topic to discuss.

"Maybe a small island," Ray tries to get back on safe ground, sipping at his cup of tea hesitantly, some dark-bitter stuff - Oolong something - which isn't half bad with its sweet aftertaste.

"An island?"

"Yeah," Ray waves his hand, "my vacation, you know ... like Gilligan's Island or something."

"Gilligan's Island, Ray, was a sitcom about people stranded on an uninhabited island. That hardly qualifies for a restful vacation."

Ray grins. They are back!

"You think I couldn't make like Robinson Crusoe?" He teases.

"I have no knowledge about your hunting skills, Ray," Fraser smiles easily back at him, his body relaxing again.

"I have a wolf," at which Diefenbaker raises his head from under the table, looking longingly at their leftovers.

"I'm not certain Diefenbaker knows the difference between a squirrel and a Kung Pao chicken, Ray."

"Oh, did you hear that, mutt?" Ray leans down, lifting their tabletop to look at Dief. "He said you didn't know how to hunt," and Diefenbaker's head comes up between Fraser's legs, his head cocked in question.

"A squirrel is a member of the genera Sciurus and Tamiasciurus," Fraser explains, making Ray chuckle with laugher, "generally clever and persistent animals, very hard to catch. Did you know, Ray, that the squirrel can predict a bountiful harvest..."

"Stop it!" Ray laughs. "Maybe we should go for Hawaii then."

"At least you wouldn't fear starving to death there, Ray," Fraser smiles, petting Diefenbaker's head. The wolf seems unimpressed by Fraser's faith, or lack therefore, in him. "Considering you find `poi' to your taste."

"Do I even wanna know what that is?"

Their evening goes by without Ray really noticing it. It's not until he's back in his car, watching Fraser's broad back as he walks away, that he realises he hasn't thought about Stella, or all he has lost, the whole time. His heart feels lighter and a happy smile plays around his lips - he has made a friend.

Sleep comes easy tonight and Ray's good feeling holds the whole next day; he is humming with an energy he hasn't felt for a while. Even his customers feel it, smiling with him when he eagerly asks them about places they always wanted to visit.

Mrs. Morris, whose kitchen he's fixing, always wanted to go to Hawaii and Ray tells her about `poi' and volcanoes. Mr. Hanrahan, who he plays chess with in the park during lunch break, wants to go back to Japan to take a look around in times of peace - Ray doesn't know much about Japan, he will ask Fraser about it -, and Mrs. Greenwood, who serves him a cold glass of lemonade on her front porch just now, always wanted to go to Venice.

Fraser will know about these places, Ray thinks, sitting on Mrs. Greenwood's swing.

"You look happy, Ray," Mrs. Greenwood refills his glass, smiling. "I haven't seen you in such good spirits since Stella left."

Ray puts his feet down, stopping the swing.

Mrs. Greenwood is a customer of his for a long time; he has practically built her porch, fixed anything in and outside her house, she's his immediate neighbour, a friend.

"I met someone," he confesses shyly, not really knowing why. People make friends every day, nothing special about it.

But Fraser is special.

Somehow.

"Someone?" Mrs. Greenwood eye sparkle like old ladies usually do when they see a romance coming. "Someone who may convince my favourite carpenter to stay in the neighbourhood, maybe?

Ray coughs, kind of embarrassed, because this is nothing like that. He has made a friend, that's it. Nothing more.

"Ethel," he laughs, scratching the back of his neck. "His name is Fraser, he works at the library."

"So, he's someone then who helps you leave Chicago?"

"He doesn't know."

"Doesn't know what?"

"That I'm going away. He thinks I'm planning a vacation."

"Oh, Ray."

"He assumed and ..."

"You didn't correct him."

"No," Ray says, "I didn't know him then. Why tell a stranger my sad life story?"

"But now you do know him."

"I met him yesterday; I wouldn't say that I know him, exactly."

"But you do," Ethel insists, her eyes seeing right through him. Ray squirms under her glance.

"Maybe," Ray mumbles, getting up and handing over his empty glass. "I gotta go."

Ethel's words stay with him the rest of the day, dragging him down until he enters the library again. His feet move lightly over the floor today, no sound at all. Ray wasn't a good dancer for nothing. There is even an easy sway in his hips walking up the stairs.

"What do you know about Venice, Fraser?" He asks as soon as he spots Fraser in one of the aisles, sorting books.

"Not the Venice in Illinois, but the Venice in Italy you mean, Ray?" Fraser takes Ray's question in stride, smiling brightly.

"Yeah, that one."

"Venice is built on an archipelago of 118 islands formed by about 150 canals which serve as roads. Every form of transport is on water or on foot..."

"I can't swim."

"Ah, that's unfortunate then," Fraser rubs his eyebrow. "I would not advise taking a swim in any case, Ray."

"I could fall in and drown," Ray objects.

"That you could. Perhaps something built on dry land then."

"What about Japan?"

Ray has arrived a few minutes before closing, so he keeps Fraser company while he's getting his library stuff, before he steers him to his pickup, where Dief is already waiting impatiently, and then to his favourite Pizza house.

They share a pizza, with Fraser frowning slightly over Ray's choice of pineapple as topping but they never stop talking at all. It's like they have known each other for years instead of twenty-two hours.

"Where would you go?" Ray asks suddenly, grabbing for the last slice of pizza.

"Me?"

"Yeah, of course you," Ray rolls his eyes impatiently, smiling.

There is an eyebrow rub, even a collar tug, and Ray sits up straight immediately. This is not good, not when Fraser gets all uncomfortable right in front of him, and Ray is wondering what he has said now.

"I really don't favour vacations, Ray," Fraser avoids his eyes, sipping on his glass of water, his hand slightly shaking.

"Aw, c'mon, Frase, there has to be a place you wanna go."

"Home."

Just one word but it hits home and suddenly Ray is reminded of what Fraser has said yesterday. They are the same - deeply hurt and on the run.

Ray leans back in his seat heavily, his eyes running up and down Fraser's face that has turned blank.

"Where is home?" he asks in a whisper, their eyes locking when Fraser answers.

"Canada, Ray. My home is north of this border," and Fraser's glance moves to the window, gets distant like he's seeing more than just a dark street in Chicago, USA.

"You left your home, your country?"

Isn't that exactly what Ray is planning? Leaving? No looking back?

It might not work like that then, if the pained look on Fraser's face is anything to go by.

"Yes."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"I would rather not, Ray," Fraser says, looking at Ray again, his face safely guarded. "I would like to go home now, please."

"Yeah, of course," Ray throws some money on the table, heading after Fraser who is leaving the restaurant already, ignoring Ray's pickup parked out front.

"Fraser," Ray calls out, closing in and then he's right in front of Fraser, and Fraser's body is radiating pain that Ray feels like his own. He doesn't know what to do, so he grabs Fraser by his shoulders and just wraps himself around him, holding on.

Fraser goes stiff as a board but Ray just hugs him even tighter, whispering "I'm sorry," into his ear until Fraser goes lax and pets his back tentatively.

Ray holds on for minute longer or two before he finally, almost regretfully, lets go of Fraser, flattening the fabric of Fraser's jacket which got all wrinkled with his whole body hug.

"Sorry," he says, his fingers playing with the lapel of Fraser's jacket.

"Think nothing of it, Ray." Fraser on his part smoothes out Ray's shirt which got equally wrinkled during their body contact, his right hand lingering on Ray's shoulder and suddenly the world seems to close around them.

A world for two.

Ray can't hear anything - no cars, no people, no anything. Just Fraser's breathing. There must be a light somewhere, a lamp post or something they stand under, because Fraser glows like he's standing in a spot light, all warm and inviting, his hand still burning hot on Ray's shoulder, and Ray, he leans in and ... Fraser's mouth really looks soft and ... a tongue slips out of that mouth, wetting its bottom lip and Ray gets closer. Just a tiny bit more and ... Ray closes his eyes, he can't focus them on anything anyway and with that sudden thought reaching his brain he pulls back like someone is pulling a string.

Is he nuts?

What. The. Fuck.

"I ... I ... I'm truly sorry," Fraser is in his full apologizing swing, standing at least three feet away from Ray now, before Ray can even form the words inside his head for what he was about to do.

Kissing.

He was about to lean in and kiss Fraser - holy fucking shit! He has lost his mind, brain damaged, clearly.

Hasn't he learnt anything?

"Ray. Ray! Ray!"

"Get in the car!" Ray doesn't even wait for either Diefenbaker or Fraser to follow his order and jumps into his truck, grabbing for the steering wheel to have something to hold onto.

Time.

He needs time to think. But with Fraser, who really gets into the car without any protest, right sitting there, he can't do that. He can't breathe ... there's not enough air ... he can't fucking breathe ...

"Breathe, Ray!"

"I can't," he's panic-stricken.

What is he doing?

"Ray!"

There is a warm hand on Ray's neck and he wants to cry, he really wants to because he can't do this no more. Not again

"Stella!" He whispers, his head resting heavily between his hands on the steering wheel. "She left me. Screwed me over," his voice gets stronger, spilling out all the little details of his life with Stella. How they met, how much they loved each other until the day Stella came home with the divorce paper in her hands. Love doesn't last. It never does. It's over one day and you really shouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"Ray..."

"I'm done!" He finally looks up and into Fraser's dark-blue eyes. "Done! File it, dot it, and stick it in a box marked done!"

"Ray," Fraser whispers unimpressed, pulling Ray closer with his hand still on Ray's neck, and maybe Ray hasn't made himself clear here and he really should .... But Fraser's mouth closes over Ray's before he can say another word, kissing him gently. His lips sliding over Ray's, barely touching, and oh God! Ray wants this! His hands come up to Fraser's head, pulling him closer, his mouth open for Fraser's tongue.

Oh, no! No! No! This is bad!

Ray's entire body is burning with the desire to get closer, and closer still ...

"Fraser," he pants heavily, pulling on Fraser's hair to get his mouth off his collarbone that wasn't licked this thoughtfully in a very long time. "Fraser!"

"Ray," Fraser's voice is husky-deep, and he looks all tousled and kissed.

"I'm leaving."

"Yes, Ray, let's ..."

"No, Fraser, I'm leaving," and something in Ray's eyes or voice gets through to Fraser lust clouded brain because he suddenly sits straight in the passenger seat again, his face turning blank.

"I see."

"I wanted to tell you, Fraser." He reaches for Fraser's hand but Fraser pulls away, not letting Ray touch him. "I'm sorry!"

Dammit.

Ray slams his hands against the steering wheel - he didn't plan for this to happen, any of it. He just wants to get away, to forget, start over. How could he have known that he was going to meet someone new so soon and ... fall for him?

"I just can't, Fraser."

"I understand," Fraser reaches for the door, gets it open. "Just let me tell you that running away won't help" he says, his voice barely audible, before he slums the door shut, leaving Ray sitting there, knuckles white.

Ray doesn't know for how long he's sitting in his car before he even thinks about turning on the engine and going home.

Home, ha.

His home is just a house now, his whole life boxed - cardboard boxes line its floors; cartons filled with pictures, books, clothes.

Empty.

Ray's house is as empty as his life is, had been before he met Fraser and now, what now? He can't go through this again, he doesn't want to. He wants a new life and ... Fraser.

No, not Fraser! He can't have Fraser. Fraser lives here, here where he can't stay. Maybe if he had met him elsewhere, anywhere but here.

God, dammit.

Ray kicks the nearest box, hard, and something rattles inside. Great! That was Grandma's antique china.

Diefenbaker whines and runs for the back door then, he obviously doesn't want to tolerate Ray's dark mood.

"Greatness," Ray mumbles and grabs for the half-empty Whisky bottle on the kitchen table, drinking himself to sleep.

He doesn't sleep as restfully as last night; Ray's dreams are filled with books, books falling off their shelves, hitting his shoulders, his head. He's calling for Fraser to get the damn books back where they belong but Fraser isn't there. Ray's alone, running along the aisles, stepping out of the books' way when he can, calling for Fraser, desperately. But there is no answer, just books all around him and long aisles getting dark and darker. With no escape.

"Fraser!" Ray wakes up startled, the now empty Whisky bottles lying at his feet. His neck hurts from sleeping on his uncomfortable couch and Ray groans, going through the motions. He has done this before. Right when Stella left, he started sleeping on the couch and not in their bed, he just couldn't lay in there where they had slept together for over ten years, made love and ... He just couldn't. It got better after a while and it will get better now. He has known Fraser for two days for Christ's sake. That really couldn't compare with a decade with Stella.

It doesn't get better.

For weeks, Ray wakes up tired, his nights filled with endless runs through the Chicago library which gets larger, darker, every night.

The due date to bring back his loan out books rolls around but Ray can't bring himself to set a foot into the library and pleads Mrs. Greenwood to get them back for him.

He sits on the swing on his front porch when Mrs. Greenwood comes back, taking a seat at his side.

"He looks as bad as you do, Ray," she says quietly, placing a book between them. "He is a very handsome boy, very obliging."

Ray can neither look at Ethel nor at the heavy looking book on the swing; he's a coward.

Ethel doesn't say anything else, she just sits with him for a while before she leaves, touching his hand reassuring. And Ray sits there until dark, just going inside when Dief nudges that he hasn't been feed today.

The book Ethel brought back from the library is about Canada - very subtle there, Ethel, Ray smiles sadly - and Ray takes it with him to the couch.

Ray has never thought about moving to Canada, Canada is just this huge country up North. But it's where Fraser comes from and he at least should know something about it if ... no, when he tries to make it right with Fraser.

Fraser.

He even answers Ray's calls tonight, `just let me tell you that running away won't help' resounding in Ray's head when he wakes up the next day. And Fraser is right of course, Fraser is a smart man, and Ray is done with running. He hasn't gotten out of Chicago yet and he got lost already.

Ray looks around the house, his house.

He loves this place with its swing on the front porch to sit on in warm summer nights, with its backyard - he has built this house with his own two hands. The wooden kitchen table, the books shelves, closets - this is his, it always has been; he just can't leave.

Ray has no contracts to fulfil today so he starts unpacking - his clothes back in his closet, dishes back where it belongs. He rearranges everything to his liking and it all looks more comfortable as it has ever been with Stella around. His home.

With the book Ethel brought him in his hand Ray enters the Chicago library, walking along the aisles in search of Fraser, looking out carefully for falling down books.

But, of course, no such thing happens and Ray catches sight of Fraser at the end of one walkway, stepping closer.

"Did you know that all Canadians share the same flu virus?" Ray says feeling sick to his stomach.

"Ray!" Fraser turns toward him, his eyes shining brightly for a second before he schools his features to become a blank page.

"Frase," Ray tries to be casual, to keep it cool but he can not not touch Fraser so reaches for him, and pulls him close. ""I'm sorry," he whispers into his ear, feeling Fraser's body relax against his.

"Ray," Fraser steps back, out of his reach, his left hand already rubbing over his eyebrow nervously. "I'm not certain I understand."

"I'm done running," he whispers. "But I'm not done with you." Ray rolls on the back of his heels, eager to get on with it already. He has made his decision and his new life can begin. Right now.

"Ah."

"No, `ah', Fraser. I've missed you and I want ... I want you."

"Ray, how can I be certain you won't ...?"

"You can't, Frase but I wanna try. With you."

Fraser doesn't look convinced, he looks uncertain and ... afraid when Ray touches his cheek, smoothes out the dark lines under Fraser's eyes.

"I've missed you," he repeats softly. "Please, come to my place. Lets talk."

"All right, Ray," is all Fraser can get out before Ray kisses him, pushing his business card into Fraser's hand.

"I'll see you at seven," he whispers against Fraser's lip before he pulls away and leaves.

There is a lot to do before Fraser arrives and Ray starts immediately. Groceries first - he's preparing a barbecue in his backyard -, new sheets on his bed. Yes, he's planning on sleeping in his bed again, and not alone either.

Ethel sees him running around in the backyard, smiling knowingly but Ray is too busy to respond, he has a home to prepare, his home.

At seven o'clock exactly Ray's front bell rings and Fraser is standing on his front porch.

"Welcome in my home, Fraser!" Ray greets smiling and Fraser smiles back at him when Ray closes the door behind them.

The End