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Author's Notes: Eighth in the Getting what you want, getting what you need series. (8/9)

Story Notes:

This story is a sequel to: Out of reach

Incubus, "Drive"
And I can't help but ask myself
how much I let the fear take the wheel and steer. It's driven me before,
and it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal. But lately I am beginning to find
that I should be the one behind the wheel

Ren understood. He understood that Ray didn't always feel like coming down to the consulate to see him. He understood that Ray couldn't call him Renny. He understood that he would need to take things slow. Very slow. Glacially slow.

And it was okay by Renfield Turnbull, because he understood.

He knew, unlike Fraser who'd never asked, that ignoring a problem didn't make it go away. He knew that he was nice, polite, and, most importantly, safe. He knew he was "safe."

And it was okay by Renfield Turnbull, because he understood.

Inspector Thatcher had never given him a chance. Benton Fraser had never given him a chance. For all the vaunted praises of Canadians, the only person in Chicago who'd given him a chance was a cranky, wounded American.

Turnbull had always been a bit peculiar, wherever he was stationed. The peculiarities of life were rather endearing, he felt. He could wait. He could wait until Ray knew that it wasn't a crime to fall in love again.

He could wait. It would be worth it.

End Hesitate by silvina: sdelcul@yahoo.com

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