Author's Notes: Thanks to China Shop and Isiscolo for beta.

Story Notes: Written for the DS Northern News challenge: Prompt 74. "Whitehorse eagles may be making spring comeback"
Wingfic. Angst. AU. Elements of this universe were stolen from David Ireland's "A Woman of the Future."

Thus, every feather obeys the wind.

* * * * *

The eagle perched in the tree let out a series of sharp cries and shifted restlessly. An answering call came from overhead, where his mate was circling. Ray has returned for the second year and my heart is lighter to see him safe.

* * * * *

It's unusual for a change to come so late in life. Most changes happen before the onset of puberty, although changes initiated by physical or emotional trauma have been recorded in people as late as their sixties. In Ray's case, no obvious event appeared to trigger the potential within him, although I often speculated that perhaps contact with genetic material he might not otherwise have been exposed to may have precipitated it. Ray said that blaming the dream catcher was too freakish, even for me.

Ray himself had no idea what was happening Of course, we were in the United States, and a highly urbanized part at that, where changes were often hushed up or glossed over. Growing up in the far north, my experience was that the change was revered in elaborate mourning ceremonies, and on rare occasions I'd witnessed parts of the transformation process amongst my age mates.

* * * * *

We had been lovers for some eight months, after a period of - well, I suppose flirting would be the most accurate term. But our deepened relationship was tinged with the fear of discovery, not wanting to chance Ray's cover, and this covertness rankled Ray, despite his natural ability as an undercover operative. In matters of the heart, Ray found it nearly impossible to dissemble.

* * * * *

The first winter after Ray left was difficult, though considerably eased by my posting. Ray had been right on that score - Whitehorse was large enough to keep all of us in the detachment busy, and I was sufficiently urbanized after my years in Chicago to adapt. I was a different man to the young recruit who'd made such a hash of it in Moose Jaw.

That didn't mean my thoughts weren't constantly turning to Ray and how he might be faring. It was impossible to convince myself to accept that I might never know. When the news came that a pair of bald eagles were making a nest just south of the city, I couldn't quell the hope that rose in me.

* * * * *

"Fraser, how can you love me? I'm a freak!"

He looked like an earthy angel, one designed not to inspire fear or awe, but to tempt mankind with possibilities. "You're beautiful, Ray."

"Look at me. I'm not one thing or another. I'm going to end up like those freaks in the shows, or living in a cardboard box with the other half-n-halfs down near the wharves."

"The proportion of people who don't fully evolve is statistically very low, and if that were the case with you I would..." I paused, realizing that there was very little I wouldn't do for this man.

"You'd what? You'd put me out of my misery? You'd donate me to medical research?"

"Ray!" I grabbed his chin and turned his face to look at me.

Ray looked at me steadily. "And what if I do `evolve,' huh?"

"I will help you. No matter what happens, I will help you in any way I possibly can. You know that."

He pressed his lips briefly against mine in mute apology. "Yeah, yeah buddy. I know. Whatever I've got is yours." He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder. My hands came up involuntarily to touch his wings, and for the first time he didn't pull away. I stroked the brown and white speckled feathers, and he sighed restlessly.

* * * * *

Eric once told me he'd met his raven brother in the spirit world.

* * * * *

I was ill-prepared for Ray's final change. I knew that I should limit contact with him as much as possible, if he were to have any chance at surviving in the wild. In the end, I sought help from raptor rehabilitation organizations, who proved infinitely more helpful than the books on falconry I'd borrowed from the Whitehorse Public Library. One man from the Calgary Wildlife Rehabilitation Society was eager to share his success in releasing his daughter, a peregrine falcon who'd gone on to successfully raise her own young.

On their advice, and with the assistance of Tony Grabowski and Constables Diane Haskell and Mike Lim, we erected a hacking cage atop a tower in the vicinity of Fish Lake. Tony and I took turns delivering food to Ray until we were confident he would fly on his own.

Releasing Ray was the hardest thing I've ever done.

* * * * *

I came home to find him braced against the kitchen counter with one hand, the other scratching furiously at his back with a wooden spoon. "It feels like something's burning me back there," he told me.

"Let me have a look." The skin across his shoulder blades was red and blistered like a bad case of sunburn. "What happened?"

"I dunno," he said. "It's just been tingling and itching on and off all day, and suddenly it got worse." He grimaced and flinched beneath the careful probing of my fingers.

"You haven't been exposed to any chemicals? Plants?" He shook his head. "Different laundry soap?" I rubbed the small of his back gently. "Let me put some ointment on it, at least. That will soothe it."

"Yeah, bring on the pregnant mucous. I'll try anything at this point."

I applied a salve of aloe vera, and it seemed to relieve the symptoms. Certainly we moved through our normal evening routine of eating, walking Dief, reading in front of television before bed.

At some point during the night Ray moved away from me, and started groaning and shaking in his sleep. He wasn't normally prone to nightmares, so I thought it better to wake him and placed a hand gently on his back. His muscles seem to spasm and his eyes shot open.

"Fraser!" His hands gripped my arm painfully, fingers digging in like claws. "Oh, Jesus. It hurts." I fumbled for the lamp. In the soft light I could see that the irritated skin on his back had ruptured. What appeared to be bone was forcing its way through the skin, spreading out along the line of his shoulders.

A cold dread spread through me. "Oh, dear God."

He cried out, a line of sweat breaking out across his forehead. I crushed him to me, one hand around his waist, the other pressing his face into my neck. I felt the sting of his teeth as he bit down on my collar bone. Oh God, don't take him away from me.

* * * * *

I headed to the vehicle rest area on Robert Service Drive, where the nest site has been reported. Dief hopped out of the cruiser when I opened the back, and sniffed around the area. Even if neither of the birds turned out to be him, it'd still be useful to gain as much information about them as we could.

Tony Grabowski, the Conservation Officer, slid off the hood of his 4x4 and came over, offering me his binoculars.

"They've both got bands, but they could've been banded anywhere between here and Mexico, depending on where they spent the summer." I nodded and scanned the tree. One of the birds balanced precariously on the edge of the nest, wedging a stick tighter into the woven framework. The other was higher in the top of the tree. Somehow I had convinced myself I'd recognize Ray the moment I saw him again, but it wasn't until the smaller male launched himself into a lazy glide directly overhead that I could make out the engraved platinum band Eric's friend Bill Helin had custom made for him, a match for the ring I still wore.

* * * * *

Ray's awkward-looking wings were covered with a soft grey down, like an eaglet's.

* * * * *

That first day we huddled together miserably, neither of us willing to face the world until we'd found some way to deal with the enormity of what Ray's change meant, personally and professionally. I managed a cursory call to both the Consulate and the 27th Precinct, requesting some personal leave. Dief whined softly, subdued by our misery, and agreed to make do with the fire escape for the day.

A few hours later I got up to change the bed linen, and to gently sponge the dried blood from Ray's back. He roused himself, every movement setting off a small tremor in his ungainly wings.

"Go have a shower," his forehead creased with concern. "You'll feel better."

I hesitated.

"Go on," he insisted. "I won't fly away."

Not yet.

* * * * *

Ray grasped the idea of going to Canada with both hands. The down was molting, gradually replaced with mottled brown and white juvenile feathers, and although no other signs of change had occurred, we both felt pressured here in the city and hoped things would be easier up north. Lieutenant Welsh turned out to be an unexpected advocate, both with the CPD and with Inspector Thatcher. As an employer, the RCMP had generous leave provisions for officers affected by a change within their family, and without being asked, the Lieutenant provided a signed declaration attesting to Ray's status as my domestic partner.

My conversation with the Inspector was awkward, but she seconded Ray's vehement opinion that I should transfer to a more suitable posting, and signed my request for leave until the transfer came through.

* * * * *

I knew that "changelings" - for want of a better word - sometimes remained attached to their families, but those that did were usually domesticated animal such as dogs. I told Ray that wild animals seemed to disconnect completely from their human past.

He shook his head fiercely saying, "I won't forget you. I won't."

* * * * *

I watched as Tony and some of his volunteers worked to repair the nest, badly damaged by winter storms. Tony had sweet-talked Carl Oberlund from Yukon Electric into loaning them a cherry picker, and once the work had been finished, he asked if I wanted to have a look.

Carl took me up, raising me into Ray's world; it was unusual for bald eagles to nest so close to human activity, but I could see the appeal of the site. The sunlight sparkled on the water, dazzling me. Just beyond the screen of trees lay the City of Whitehorse, while wilderness stretched away on the other side of the river. Maybe he did remember; I couldn't stop myself from hoping maybe Ray and I might find each other again, even if it were in some other world. I leaned over to leave a talisman - a spiritual marker, if you will - and carefully secured Ray's dream catcher to the nest.

*

Links

http://www.cbc.ca/canada/north/story/2007/04/05/whse-eagles.html?ref=rss Whitehorse eagles may be making a spring comeback

David Ireland, http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/irelandd/womanf.htmlhttp://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/irelandd/womanf.html A Woman Of The Future