Disclaimer: The lads and gals aren't mine. I'm merely taking them out for a spin. No profit is being made.

Author's Notes: I was watching "North" in a dS chat when the plot bunny for this fic appeared. Was meant to be a snippet, but I lack the snippet/drabble gene. Many thanks to Nos who gave encouragement and prompted that the story wasn't quite done yet. Any and all remaining mistakes are my own

Story Notes: Spoilers for "Victoria's Secret", "Letting Go" and "North".

Some nights, I wake up in the wee hours, heart racing and almost out of breath. I blink a couple of times, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the shadows, until I can see the outline of Fraser's sleeping body on the bedroll next to mine. My mind is still foggy with the fading nightmare, but I can still feel the gun, heavy yet almost slipping off my hand and part of me is recoiling because I don't want to shoot him.

*****

It's been four days since we led the local authorities to the place where they can scrape the rest of Duff Hogan off the rocks. On the upside, our latest brush with death, Mountie-style, prompts our bosses to give us an extra week of relaxation as thanks for our efforts in trying to nab a dangerous fugitive. My best friend looks like he is going to decline the added days of rest until I cough a "you've got to be kidding me." He nods in reply, cradling the phone receiver between a shoulder and his head, and tells the Dragon Lady he'll be back at the Consulate at the later date.

*****

It doesn't take long after we're standing in front of the charred remains of the cabin before Benny starts to go over what needs to be completed by the time we're heading back to Chicago. He traces a finger over a simple blueprint as I unpack the axes. I'm sure we won't even get to build the roof, but that isn't what matters. This is about us, about what we nearly lost when he fell head over heels for that woman.

The next day, we spend the first couple of hours cutting down trees after a simple breakfast of oatmeal. I am in the middle of yelling out "Timber!" when a memory hits me.

The plane has begun to freefall and I'm thinking I will end up spitting my stomach out my ears before we crash. This is a good time to ask him what it was about her that mesmerized him so. For starters, that was one twisted version of love...if it was that to begin with.

Victoria's a snake, plain and simple. Gorgeous to look at, but tricky all the same. I don't even know why I'm surprised when she tries to play me the way she does Benny.

She can't believe it when I let her know I can see the rot underneath her mannequin-like face. My cop instinct kicks into alarm mode right then, while she's standing in the middle of Frannie's bedroom trying to sell me on her innocent act. And I keep my eye on her because I'm beginning to figure out I don't know who Benny is anymore when she's near.

Hours later, Victoria's gone and I am praying. I'm actually kneeling down on a pew in the mostly empty hospital's chapel while the doctors try to keep Fraser breathing. Half-Italian, half-Latin pleas to every saint and their mother bounce against the walls.

Frannie is not allowed in the ICU room Fraser's been assigned to. The Dragon Lady, for once in all the time I've known her, shows that she does have a beating heart by allowing me to stay next to Fraser's bed until he can wake up. I stare at his too-still and pale face and my eyes begin to burn...

*****

Today shapes up to bring even more pain - or is it penance? - as it is not even noon and I'm wondering if I'll make it to lunch in one piece. The idea of heading back to the barn and lying down until I'm no longer aching everywhere is tempting.

"Hey, Benny, how come your dad ended up putting down his roots in the most remote place on Earth?" I wipe my forehead with some flannel rags while I give my arms' muscles a break from lugging a million logs all day.

"Well, Ray," Fraser sighs after literally gulping half of the water in his canteen, "I haven't, erm, didn't get the chance to ask him." He moves his head side to side as if he is expecting someone to jump out from behind the trees. "My best guess would be that he prized solitude most of all. As a member of a policing force, Ray, you are well-versed on the high levels of violence we encounter in our line of work. And how those horrors can sometimes undo even the strongest spirit..."

"What? Are you telling me your dad didn't spend his Mountie days closing down illegal igloos and ticketing caribous for speeding?" I know my joke is weak, but there is a broken echo in Fraser's voice... Something about it takes me back to the moment after I shot him and he lay on the floor, mumbling, as blood seeped out of his body. As the seconds tick by, I begin to wonder about his own longing to get away from it all.

"Ray, as you well know, my dad usually let the caribous go with only a stern warning." Between his quirky joke and his calm smile, some of my guilt lifts away and I head back to the wood pile.

*****

I don't think he's aware I'm here, right next to him. The doctors keep him really doped up because any type of movement is a no-no. They've thrown a lot of science-heavy words about where the bullet is and how critical the next couple of weeks are going to be. Jesus, he could have ended up paralyzed. He could have died. Fuck. The only sound in this room, other than the steady beep-beep of the heart monitor and the quick swoosh of the respirator, is my own quiet sobbing. When did things spiral out of control? Why did it happen? A particular heaviness deep in my gut keeps me seated and heartsick. I feel the opposite of hollow inside.

He might forgive me, but I don't think he's going to thank me. Many people don't know this, but Fraser can out-hold a grudge like no one else. I close my eyes and fall into uneasy sleep.

An elderly nurse comes into the room a few minutes past eight to tell me that Frannie is waiting for me in the lobby. I stand up and stretch before going out to meet her. "Let's get some fresh air," I say, wanting to take some of that hospital smell off me. It's too sunny and everything looks way too sharp for me not to wince as we step out to the balcony. Her bare face makes her look as tired and as broken up as I feel. "Here. It's a Capresse sandwich," she says with a flat tone of voice as she hands me the bag, "Ma told me she will bring you something else for lunch." She looks at me then, eyes red and glassy-looking, and I cringe inside as I see her steel herself before she opens up her mouth once more "How is he? I..." her shoulders begin to shake and I wrap my arms around her. I'm doing my big brother thing as her tears begin to splash against the side of my neck. There's nothing I can do that will make this any easier so I just squeeze her body. I am rubbing her back, the everyday city noises as background music, while I tell her it'll be okay. We'll be okay.

*****

Dinnertime finally rolls around and I'm day-dreaming of Ma's lasagna. It's dark enough to feel like we're the only humans on the entire planet. I'm too tired to feel spooked by the not-so-quiet animal sounds from birds and who-knows-whats. Fraser is placing the rabbit Dief caught and, sheesh, he himself skinned on the spit. "There're no supermarkets nearby, huh?" He glances over to where I'm sitting as I stare at the fire. "Sorry, Ray," he sighs, "the nearest town is frankly too far to even venture out. I...I forgot to bring provisions other than salt and some dried spices."

"Eh, no biggie, Red." I shrug. "After all, my hunting and gathering routine is a joke around here." On the other hand, he's the one who got me to dine on actual grubs the night after we crashed so there we are.

*****

I'm thankful Fraser can't see the worry that hangs on my face like a neon sign. He's acting loopy, well, loopier than usual from the moment we got out of the plane with all our arms and legs intact. Between the sudden blindness, calling me Steve every other time and the idea that we've got to catch the criminal or else we'll both die from dishonour, I'm close enough to breaking down in the same way I almost did after the friendly fire incident four months ago. The thing that disturbs me the most is how calm he's being considering how shitty the situation is and continues to get as the hours go by.

My Pop, who spent as much time away from home as he could when he was alive, keeps bitching and moaning every chance he gets about me not looking out for myself. I finally get fed up with his ghostly ranting as I'm pulling on some roots to help Fraser make a raft worthy of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer.

In the end, I shake my head and leave him behind once I realize that the disappointment of being let down by one's father is never over.

*****

Last time I was here, snow covered everything and there were guys shooting at us. Now, there is enough green all over the place as to almost make me forget this is Canada and we've got no one else to talk to but each other. Fraser has this "I'm too focused but I don't care" expression on his face that clashes with the plaid shirt, raggedy jeans and scuffed up hiking boots he's wearing. I almost begin to chuckle at this Canadian version of a lumberjack until I hear him hiss. Fraser makes a grimace as he drops his end of the log with a start. The sun won't be going down for a few more hours, but I've got a feeling we're done for today. The skin on his hands is nearly raw. My hands throb with not-so-phantom pain in sympathy.

I raise an eyebrow as I realize that I might not be the only one who's trying to clean his own slate here.

"You know this cabin won't be even close to done before we have to head back to the city, right?" I say as I walk towards the first aid kit.

Fraser, who has been staring at his painful-looking hands, glances up towards me and then, around at what we've built so far and nods. "I know, Ray, and it's okay. It's worth it." I know he's talking about the project, but I hone in and follow the trail on what is left unsaid. We might make it back to Chicago in one piece after all.