Disclaimer: I don't own them and no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Many thanks to Laura Kaye and Speranza for giving me feedback and suggestions.

Story Notes: This story ending just came to me and I could not find it in me to change it. This is the second time an ending has invaded my head and made my story go in an unintended direction.

Memories, by Kikala - (2003)

It was hard letting him go.

Fraser watched as Ray stood there, shifting from foot to foot. He had calmed down during their adventure; there were times when he seemed almost tranquil. Here at the airport, though, as he waited for his flight back to Chicago, the nervous energy had returned.

"Well, I guess this is it."

"Yes," replied Fraser, "I guess it is."

Ray looked down at his feet, "Look Frase, I really liked being up here. You know, with you . . . and Dief," he added in response to a low whine at his feet. "Maybe I could come visit again, sometime, I mean if you're not off chasing some poachers or something like that."

Fraser smiled warmly, "You're always welcome, Ray. I've . . . we've had a great adventure."

"Even if we didn't find that hand."

"Well, Ray, to be honest, I didn't think we would."

Ray laughed, "Yeah, I know. It was fun, though, and I found out I wasn't a complete city boy after all."

Fraser looked serious, "You did very well, Ray. I never had any doubt that you would. It's been more than fun, more than an adventure. It's been an experience I'll always remember. I just wish . . ."

"Wish what?" Ray eyed Fraser speculatively.

Fraser scratched his eyebrow nervously, "I don't know, it's difficult to put into words."

Ray laughed, "You, Mr. Vocabulary, can't find the words to say something? That's gotta be a first."

Fraser cleared his throat, "It's not the words, Ray . . ."

Just then they were interrupted by an announcement of the final boarding of Ray's flight. Reluctantly, Fraser reached out a hand and Ray grabbed it, pulling Fraser to him, hugging him tightly. He then turned quickly and walked through the door to his flight.

~~~o0o~~~

It had been 6 years since he'd last set foot in Chicago. The city hadn't changed much, still full of bustling energy. It had taken longer to get through Customs, since that terrible day 4 years ago. The world was a harder place.

Fraser felt harder as well, being home in his beloved Territories wasn't as fulfilling as he thought it would be. There was something missing and even though Dief kept telling him what it was, he chose not to think those thoughts, they were inappropriate. He had kept in contact with Ray, through letters and e-mails, and Ray had even come up to visit him every year, during the short summer. Those visits always went by so fast, as if a whirlwind had swept through his cabin, leaving an emptiness in his home and his heart in its wake.

Fraser had gone about his duties, efficient as always, but he missed the easy laughter and the companionship of his mercurial partner. He even missed the flashes of temper that were followed by embarrassed contrition. Sometime during those visits, or in the aftermath of them, Fraser realized that he had fallen in love with Ray, and that frightened him.

Ray had never shown any contempt or disgust toward homosexuals; beneath his gruff exterior lay a gentle soul, but he had also never shown any interest in men, as far as Fraser had seen. He was quick to hug, to lay a comforting hand on a shoulder, touch an arm to get his attention, but had never made any signs that he loved Fraser in any other sense than a good friend, a brother. They had spent many nights talking, telling each other things that they'd never tell anyone else; both knowing that they could trust the other implicitly. Fraser would do anything to protect that special bond, even bury his own newly-awakened needs.

~~~o0o~~~

Fraser let the precious memories of the time spent with Ray fill his thoughts when he was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat.

Welsh looked apologetic, "It's time."

"Yes, of course," replied Fraser, rising to take his place in front of a somber Jack Huey. He looked down briefly at the flag covering the casket of his closest friend, the man he had come to love more than life itself, and blinked back the tears. Ray would laugh if he saw him crying at his funeral. He always said he wanted a party with all the mourners getting blind drunk and singing songs.

In the end it was an accident that took the life of his friend, no heroic act of bravery in the line of duty. His car, his beloved GTO, had been hit from behind by a drunk driver. Mort sat vigil in the much-feared morgue with Ray's body until his father could come and claim his son. His father looked as if he had aged 30 years, having lost Ray's mother earlier in the year.

As the casket was lowered into the freshly dug grave, Fraser closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander again. He saw Ray's brilliant grin, heard his burst of joyous laughter and imagined he felt Ray's hand on his shoulder, one last time, squeezing goodbye.

End Memories by Kikala: kikala@earthlink.net

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