Author's website: http://unhinged.0catch.com

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, but a girl has to have something to look forward to on those long, cold winter nights in the Hinterlands.

Author's Notes: The second in "The Fairy Tale" series; AU's that mess with canon to a disturbing degree.

Story Notes: A non-death death story. Just read it and you'll understand.

This story is a sequel to: Follow-up to Fairy Tales

"Ray! Ray!"

Ray Kowalski opened his eyes to the usual shadowed darkness of their bedroom in the cabin. Fraser was holding him close, stroking his unruly blond hair, and for just a moment, Ray had this idea he was somewhere else. Back in Chicago? "Wha?"

"You were having a nightmare." Fraser said softly, loosening his arms so that Ray could turn towards him.

"Oh." Now he remembered. "That you, Frase?"

A quiet chuckle. "If it's not, you got 'splanin' to do, Ray."

Ray snorted and burrowed under the covers, resting his head on his partner's chest. "God, I've corrupted you completely haven't I?"

"Well not totally, no. I'm still semi-civilized." Fraser went back to stroking his hair. "The same one?"

"No." Ray shook his head, wincing at the slight twinge in his chest. He'd had that particular bad dream too many times to even bother recounting it, that moment in the alley when he'd known Harrison had a knife and he was unarmed. The moment that had spelled the end of his police career, and left his right lung scarred so badly he still sometimes got short of breath if he pushed himself too hard. "This was a weird one. It had you and me in it, and you were a Mountie, but I was a street hustler." Fraser hummed, and he continued. "You made friends with me for some reason; cause of Vecchio leaving I think. You used to come down to Halstead once a week and we'd spend all night sitting in Donato's while you told me Inuit stories."

"Why were you a hustling?"

"I can't remember. You asked me about it a couple times, and I told you it was just another job, like working in a grocery store." He was quiet a minute. "I used to know some kids like that, back when I walked the beat. Arrested a couple of'em for soliciting, even though I thought it was a bum rap."

"They were breaking the law, Ray."

"They were surviving the only way they knew how. Wasn't their fault most of'em came from abusive homes and didn't have anyone who gave a shit about'em. I always felt bad when I had to take one in."

Fraser's fingers had moved down and were massaging the back of his neck. "So what happened?"

"We started sleeping together. Not having sex, just sleeping with each other. Because we were both tired of being alone, I think."

"You were struggling quite a bit when I woke you up." And there was the worry in Fraser's voice that hadn't existed before the stabbing; the worry he tried so hard to hide from Ray.

"I got stabbed by a john in an alley."

"Harrison?"

"Can't remember. I managed to make it to Donato's, and they called the ambulance and you. You showed up before the ambulance did, but I was dying. I could feel it." Just like he'd felt it that night, as his collapsed lung struggled to draw in enough air to keep him alive. But Fraser had been right there hadn't he? There to call the EMT's and keep pressure on the wound till they came. Fraser spent a week sleeping next to his bed in ICU before he'd come around enough to know where he was. Fraser had nodded when he told him he'd have to quit the force, and asked him to come to Canada with him. To be his partner in all things. "I died, Frase. I died in your arms, but I remember thinking it wasn't that bad, dying with you there." He was crying now, but for who? Himself or his dream self? He was alive. He'd survived.

"Shhh." Fraser was stroking his hair again. "It was just a bad dream, Ray. The doctor said you'll probably have them for quite some time."

He nodded, sniffling, which made him snort, which made Fraser laugh, and finally, after a few kisses to "Make it better" (or so Fraser claimed), they drifted off to sleep warm and safe in each other's arms.

And somewhere, in another world, in another time, in the dreamlands of Chicago, a young boy died with a peaceful smile on his face, knowing that sometimes fairy tales come true after all.

FIN

End Fairy Tales-The Real World by MR: psykaos42@yahoo.com

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