Disclaimer: I'm a little tired of the disclaiming thing when it comes to due South. I've done my fair share in raising the characters and so have other fangirls. They are just as much ours now as they are anybody else's, I'd say.

Author's Notes: This story was a response to the Apocalypse Challenge on ds-flashfiction

I thought I knew the world. Or to put it more accurately, I thought I knew the part of the earth that was important to me. Of the world outside the North-West Territories I was only vaguely aware.

That is, until I came to Chicago on the trail of my father's killers. My acquaintance with the city was painful, as was the realization that my grasp of the world wouldn't be of any use to survive in this purgatory.

Ray Vecchio was my savior. He taught me how to behave and how to fit in well enough not to be ridiculed twenty four hours a day. He also taught me not to panic at the looks that women gave me, even though he was jealous, as I suspected. It was utterly unnecessary envy, for I never enjoyed the looks. Desire is a dangerous concept - my two encounters with Victoria Metcalf strengthened me it in this conviction - and to be the object of another person's ardor is terrifying. Ray never believed me as I tried to convey this to him. He deemed it a typical "Mountie freak" characteristic.

He provided me with vital knowledge of the world outside the North-West Territories - at least of the part that was Chicago. He was my partner and friend, and for two years he was the sole reason I didn't fall apart from homesickness. Then he left me, being replaced by a man who claimed to be Ray Vecchio. I thought - not for the first time - that I'd lost my mind; their appearances couldn't have been more dissimilar.

It turned out that the man wasn't Ray Vecchio - he had assumed Ray Vecchio's identity because Ray Vecchio had been assigned to an undercover operation in Las Vegas.

My partner's replacement addled me, even after I learnt that he was in fact Stanley Raymond Kowalski instead of Raimundo Giuseppe Vecchio. He was so full of emotion, so volatile. More volatile even than the first Ray. And his conduct towards me was ... confusing.

Personal space seemed a concept unfamiliar to him. He touched me frequently, smiled blindingly and winked conspiringly at me on numerous occasions. Soon I learnt that I wasn't the only one whom he treated this way. It startled me to realize that I was disappointed.

His glances were only for me, though. I verified this - studying him while he was talking and listening to other people - as it seemed to bear a strange significance. He never looked at anybody the way he looked at me when he thought I was unaware of it.

I had great difficulty to assess his glances. They were intense. To some extent they resembled the looks I received from women wanting me, yet they were altogether different, not being audacious in any way. Every time I caught him looking at me he quickly averted his eyes. I didn't understand his conduct - yet I felt it was important that I did.

It was quite frustrating. The knowledge of Chicago and its inhabitants provided by Ray Vecchio seemed utterly futile in achieving an understanding of Ray Kowalski. I just wished he would do or say something.

And tonight he did. We were in his apartment, sitting next to each other on his couch. He switched off the television and started blithering, clearly being very nervous. It would have endeared me if I wouldn't have been hard pressed to discern what he was trying to convey. When I finally did understand I nearly fainted.

He loved me. He loved me.

Part of me had known this all along - this, and the fact that it was entirely mutual. But the rest of me had been trained to keep this knowledge - this magnificent knowledge - from penetrating my consciousness. The anger and regret I felt about it made me light-headed.

Ray prevented me from passing out by cupping my face and kissing me. It was a tentative kiss at first, but then it very much wasn't. We didn't waste any more precious time. We went to his bedroom and made love - with a passion that was less as well as infinitely more than the prurience I had experienced with Victoria.

Afterwards Ray declared his love to me - again, and without a hint of embarrassment this time. Now he's sleeping in my arms. The blond spikes of his experimental hair are tickling my chin. He loves me. He loves me and I love him. Listening to the sound of his breathing I realize that tonight marks the end of the world as I know it. And the start of an entirely new one.

END