Disclaimer and Notes: Fraser and Kowalski and the rest from dueSouth aren't mine; they belong to Alliance, but they've been wandering through Stonyland for a while now, and it just might take them a while to wander on back. :-) No profit made, no harm meant. This is set after CoTW and is the sequel to Never Pick Up A Hitchhiker. It will make a heck of a lot more sense if you read that one first. Thanks to Rhiannon Shaw and Misha for the beta. Thanks also to Michelle Lellouche for the final validations. This story has been revised slightly since its first posting.
Comments and constructive criticism adored at wenchita@gmail.com.
Spoilers: Mild ones for CoTW, Seeing Is Believing.
Warnings: R for language, implied violence, adult situations, m/m (slash).
"i need you now
do you think you can cope
you figured me out -- i'm lost and i'm hopeless
bleeding and broken -- though i've never spoken
i come undone -- in this mad season"
-- matchbox twenty, "mad season"
I waited until I couldn't hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway anymore, then closed my eyes. I didn't have to be a detective to know I hurt -- a lot -- and it was pretty amazing my eyes weren't running. I had something to prove to myself, but all I could think of was that I'd failed. Again. Maybe that was just the tired talking, maybe I was reacting too much because of everything that's happened to me, but I figured I'd probably just fucked up another partnership. Literally.
I'd gotten so good at pretending that I was this really confident guy, sometimes I even fooled myself. Being around Fraser had been the one thing that had me believing that I was a confident guy on the inside too, and I hadn't felt this way since before I'd met him. Now he and I weren't together, and the emptiness was creeping back in. Getting off was the only thing that seemed to help fill that space, but it didn't last long. Who woulda thought Vecchio would let me blow him? I thought for sure he was going to refuse, tell me that I was over the line, something, anything. Sometimes my instincts for a situation get me into more trouble than they're worth, and I was half-wishing I hadn't let them take control.
I was supposed to work with Vecchio on Monday. Supposed to be a good cop. Good cops don't blow their partners, don't fuck them, and they don't even think about it. Especially if their partner was the same sex. I'd already crossed that line, but I knew Vecchio couldn't say anything without revealing he bent that way. Code of silence? Oh yeah, and as sick of secrets and lying and pretending as I was, I was grateful for it.
I thought I had everything covered. I couldn't look at the sofa without remembering how much I wanted to touch Vecchio again. Vecchio, mind you, not Fraser, and wasn't that a crock considering how far I'd go for Fraser?
I swallowed the taste of that and let it sit with the rest of my list of failures. I didn't bother looking at myself in the mirror as I stripped off my clothes and took a shower. The bruises and the scars were old friends of mine now, but the hot water and soap felt really good on my skin. I almost didn't want to leave the shower, but the water started running cold, and I'd had enough of that.
If I just concentrated on not thinking, I knew I could get through this. Go through the motions, just pretend that I didn't get off on Vecchio fucking my face. Yeah, I knew I was screwed, but I didn't want to admit it. Admitting it meant I was gonna lose whatever control I had left.
I wish I could say that I don't remember what happened in Canada. The problem is, I do, at least what happened afterwards, and I woulda thought Fraser was--
No. Not going to think about this.
Monday seemed like a long way away.
I needed a pack of cigarettes and a case of beer. It was going to be a long weekend; I didn't expect Vecchio to come looking for me until Monday. He was going to need tomorrow to figure out what the hell he was going to do about what we did. I had to chuckle at that thought. Wonder if he's going to go to confession over a blowjob?
Not that I really wanted to know. I didn't deserve the answer anyway; I knew I'd been used. Hell, I knew I'd used him.
I couldn't help thinking, though, that maybe I should've just kept right on walking instead of getting in his car. Maybe I should've just told him what he wanted to know, instead of daring him, instead of distracting us both.
My mind flashed on a memory of leather and pain, and instinctively, I shivered. Furiously, I clamped down hard on the memory before it could become a full-blown Kodak postcard, but I didn't act fast enough, and this time, Fraser wasn't around to hold me while I screamed silently. Thinking of him, how he'd tried to comfort me, only made the pain worse. I'd wanted him, but now... now all I knew for sure was that he'd still be there for me, and I wished to God I didn't know the things I did now.
Two months ago, we traveled to visit Maggie MacKenzie, Fraser's half-sister. Maggie was pretty cool, and I knew I had a snowball's chance in hell of ever making it with her. For one thing, she was Fraser's sister. That pretty much ruled out everything else. Like I told her back in Chicago, I had a better chance of being with her when I didn't know who she was related to. Never mind that who she was related to was who I was really interested in; he was oblivious to that, and I was determined to keep it that way. At least, for now. I figured I had all the time in the world to get up the courage to tell him. Still, it was fun flirting with Maggie; she flirted right back and teased her brother mercilessly for taking us serious.
Maggie was stationed in one of those unpronounceable Canadian towns, shuffling paperwork and wasting her talent. It didn't take a rookie to figure out she'd gotten punished for going AWOL to track down her husband's killer in Chicago. She seemed okay with it, though I overheard her telling Fraser that at least she hadn't been exiled to some foreign post where he'd had to practically save the country before the RCMP wised up and realized what kind of guy they had in Fraser. He'd been pretty upset by that remark. She'd immediately apologized for her words and gone on to reassure him how great it was that he would be back in the country and only a few hours' drive away.
That had made me remember how soon I was supposed to be leaving. Welsh had called me a week ago on my cell phone, reminding me I was due back soon, and asking me if Fraser would be coming with me. I lied and said I didn't know. I didn't really want to think about it, if you wanna know the truth. It had been bittersweet heaven just to run around with him, looking for the Hand of Franklin, which had somehow turned into the usual Fraser-and-me-chasing-criminals-over-God-knows-everywhere. At least, with Fraser, I had the feeling of not being a complete and utter fuck-up. When I was with him, I was a screw-up who'd learned how to survive in the one place that he'd said Vecchio hated. Maybe that's grade school of me, but I'd figured out that Fraser cared a lot for Vecchio. Some part of me was jealous at that even while I was glad to take over Vecchio's life. As corny as it sounds, I learned to love Canada. Love the country, love the man, or something like that, right? Only it didn't work the way I wanted.
A few days into our visit, Fraser was summoned to his new post. Seemed they had a problem that required his expertise and wanted him to report back to work early. I wanted to go, but apparently, there was a screw-up with the paperwork for Fraser's housing, and he'd been allocated a bunk in the station, nothing more. I had two choices: stay with Maggie and spend some time with her, knowing that Fraser wasn't far away, or go back home a full two months before I was ready. I chose to stay with Maggie; the small city where she'd been posted was a welcome change from the open wilderness that had been Fraser's and my home. It wasn't Chicago, but after all the little rinky-dink towns we'd stopped in for supplies along the way, it came pretty damn close.
Fraser had been gone sixteen days (not that I was counting), and I was starting to get worried because he hadn't called yet to say what was going on. I was too used to knowing what was happening with him, and it bothered me that I didn't. Maggie picked up on that and decided to try and distract me by inviting me to dance with her at a local club. What the hell, it wasn't like she was a frog and couldn't carry a conversation worth a nickel. Far from it. Guess it's all those Fraser genes that makes them beautiful. Unlike her brother, though, she had long blond hair and light green eyes and stood about five inches shorter. She kinda reminded me of a princess in a Disney movie, except this princess was a Mountie, and a Fraser at that. Okay, so it was only on her father's side, but put her and her brother together working on something, and you wouldn't think half of anything. Plus, she was easy to talk to -- some ways, a lot easier than Fraser, but Fraser's a guy, and I'd figured out he sometimes went on and on about something just so you'd get lost and forget what it was you wanted to know.
Anyway, Maggie got off work about six and changed out of her uniform into jeans and a denim shirt. I was kinda surprised by her clothes; Stella always insisted on wearing the right designer dress for wherever we were going, and this wasn't what I'd expected. I had to chuckle at myself when I realized I'd also gotten used to Frannie's constant attempts to impress Fraser by what she wore. Then again, I'd half expected Maggie to keep wearing her uniform. Like her brother, she wore serge like it was a second skin, and it was hard keeping my eyes in my head when she wore something else. She kept the Stetson and the boots, though.
I had to admit, I was glad she hadn't dressed up. What I had was jeans, sweaters, or T-shirts, and I didn't wanna look for something fancy, 'cause that kind of stuff really isn't me. I mean, jacket, straitjacket -- ain't that much difference to me. I soon found out why she'd chosen jeans. Even as I stepped out of Maggie's car, I could hear the sound of country music spilling out of the open club door. As we arrived, the dance floor was starting to fill up with people. I was glad that I'd checked that scene out and had picked up a few moves, so it wasn't completely unfamiliar.
We danced to a few songs and got some drinks when Maggie ran into a guy she knew. I hung around a bit, long enough to figure out that I was the third wheel yet again, and excused myself to hang out at the bar on the other side of the club. I wasn't in any rush to go anywhere or do anything; I knew Maggie wouldn't leave without at least trying to find me and let me know where she was going. After being out in the boonies for most of the last four months, it felt kinda weird, but good, to be in civilization. Even if it meant that right now, I was thinking about Fraser, and hating myself for not being able to just let go. I was getting more depressed by the minute, especially when I'd sometimes catch sight of Maggie dancing with her friend, and think about how I wished I could hold Fraser that close. Or even closer, with no one else around, and....
I told my dick to shut up and let me drink my beer in peace.
I must've been there a few minutes when a pretty brunette walked up and took the seat next to me. Even in the shadowed light of the bar, I could tell she had honey-gold skin, the kind that wasn't from a suntan. She had a girl-next-door look to her, if the girl next door had been Vanessa Williams. She had on a white tank top that revealed a hell of a lot of cleavage and dark jeans with high-heeled boots. A thin gold band circled her upper right arm, gleaming in the light of the bar as she requested a Long Island iced tea. She turned to me then and grinned.
I knew I'd been caught staring, and that she wasn't taking offense at it. My hope meter went up two notches.
"May I get you anything?"
I smiled back and gestured to my mug, which was half-full. "I'm all right, thanks," I told her. "But you can keep me company if you like."
Her grin grew wider. The bartender brought over her drink and she paid him, tipping him a dollar for his trouble, before I could even offer to do so. "I'd like that," she told me. "I'm Jill, and you are?"
"Ray," I told her.
"You're not from around here, are you?"
I had to laugh at the predictability of that; I told Fraser once I oughta just wear a shirt that said what I told Jill now: "No, I'm from Chicago."
"Chicago, eh? I've never been in America -- but you've probably heard that a lot, if you've been here a while."
I chuckled, and decided I liked her. I'm not sure how long we talked, but I felt really relaxed with her. I know we danced and had at least another round of drinks. I remember Maggie telling me that she was leaving, and me telling her that I wasn't ready to go yet, that I'd find a cab home.
"Are you sure of this?" she asked me.
"Sure I'm sure," I told her, smiling my second-best "trust me, I know what I'm doing" smile. It didn't always work on Fraser, but apparently, it was good enough for Maggie. "I got your address, I know how to call a cab, and I even got some funny colored money." I pulled out a twenty from my pocket and flashed it at Maggie.
"Ray, Canadian money is perfectly legal tender," she reminded me.
"Still looks funny to me," I insisted, shoving the Canadian dollar bill back in my pants. The way Maggie spoke set off a sharp ache within me, reminding me that she was Fraser's sister, and I had to take a quick breath to settle the longing for Fraser I felt. For a moment, I thought about leaving with Maggie. Just being around her, though, hearing and seeing how similar she was to her brother, was slow torture. Maybe that was what settled it for me; I was tired of feeling like I wanted something I couldn't have, and Jill seemed willing enough.
Maggie hugged me, which didn't strike me as being unusual until later and told me to be careful. I laughed and told her not worry. I was a cop. Okay, I was a cop in Chicago, and I wasn't in Chicago now, but I wasn't off the force just yet, and it had to count for something.
Apparently, Maggie decided to let it ride for now. "Good night, Ray," she bid me. Impulsively, I hugged her, and grinned at her surprise at having her affection returned. I watched Maggie leave, then turned to find Jill.
Jill, however, was gone. Apparently, she'd taken the opportunity I'd given her when Maggie found me. I swore softly, telling myself it wasn't much of shock, even though we had spent most of the evening together. Not wanting to look foolish after I'd insisted on staying, I hung around a while longer, then started walking back to Maggie's house.
Ten minutes away from the club, I realized I'd been hanging around Frasers too long when walking anywhere made perfect sense, especially when a perfectly good cab passed me by. The night was humid, and the sky dark with clouds. The town seemed crowded after all the nights I'd spent out in the open, and I had to laugh at myself.
God, what was I going to do if I couldn't handle being in a city anymore? This wasn't Chicago, and already I was like Fraser, thinking about where I could see the stars and the sky. I hated feeling like the best part of me was someone else, somewhere else. Somewhere in my head, I knew I was perfectly capable of living without Fraser, but the rest of me refused to accept it. Yeah, so I'm pathetic; even I pity me.
Without thinking about it, I crossed my arms as I paused, waiting for the light to change so I could cross the street. As I did so, I glanced at my watch, figuring out I had maybe another twenty minutes of walking to go if I wanted to keep up the pace I'd been taking. I didn't see any taxis around, and a quick check of my pocket confirmed I'd spent my last twenty dollars.
Not that spending it had helped me get laid, I thought, sighing resignedly. I shrugged, too used to not getting any now to get upset at the fact. I wondered if Vecchio had ever gotten laid with the Mountie around as babe magnet, then wondered why I was even thinking of either of them. Thinking of Fraser only made me feel like a dog that's been kicked one too many times, and I hated that.
As much as I knew and had figured out about Vecchio, I wasn't sure how things were going to work with us being partners. The duet Fraser and me had built was everything to me, especially after we'd had that big fight right before the Henry Allen. Losing it scared me more than I wanted to think about, and what if Vecchio and I couldn't work together? The only time we'd tried it, Vecchio had ended up shot. I didn't think that was going to happen again, least I hoped it wouldn't, but I could only guess what was going to happen. It wasn't going to be like when I'd walked into Vecchio's life, with everybody telling me I had Mr. Dudley Do-Right as an unofficial partner. I was going to be Kowalski again, and I wasn't sure who that was. Up here, at least I was still part of a duet, still Fraser's buddy, and I knew what to expect. I knew Vecchio'd been a good cop, and I wasn't sure if I could measure up. I wasn't Fraser, for chrissake. How the hell were we going to deal with that? Even if my hunch about Vecchio was wrong, I wasn't feeling too happy about the whole thing, and I was already leaning toward feeling like crap.
The last thing I remember clearly about that night is wondering how Vecchio would react when I told him his new partner was just as in love with Fraser as he had been.
*****
Though I knew, as a member of the RCMP, my leave time was subject to revocation without notice, I had calculated that I had enough time accrued to cover the six months I'd requested. Lt. Welsh had been generous in granting Ray that much administrative leave, but as I suspected he faced losing a good officer versus the chance that Ray would return to the force eventually, I understood his decision. Still, I was aware that two months remained on that deadline, and my having to report to duty earlier than either Ray or I had planned would change things.
I knew we had to talk soon about our friendship. My greatest fear was what would happen when the time arrived when Ray had to return to Chicago or lose his job. In the best of situations, Ray was fearless. In the worst, Ray was sometimes altogether too willing to risk his life, believing he had nothing for which to live. His self-confidence had improved greatly since I first met him, especially over the last four months, but I suspected he saw the improvement as being tied to my presence in his life. I did not want to contemplate what he would do if it was abruptly removed, and was rather glad that my recall to duty happened while we were visiting my sister.
As the RCMP was not aware that I had any dependents save for Diefenbaker, I was assigned single-man quarters in the barracks at the post that would serve as my temporary duty station. Naturally, that meant Ray could not join me. His initial reaction of angry disbelief had puzzled me at first, as it hadn't seemed wholly justified. Then he'd calmed down and apologized for overreacting. I put his outburst down to a mild case of separation anxiety, aware that we had been together all the time since the resolution of the Muldoon case. I knew, however, that I could not leave Ray alone. He was not ready to leave Canada, and I did not want him to go just yet.
I'm not entirely certain what happened when he agreed to go adventuring with me. Perhaps that is my fault, that I became blind to his growing dependence on me, that I took advantage of his trust and affection for me to find solace for my own grief. You see, as long as I knew my father still haunted me, I didn't think he was truly gone. Knowing that he was...all I could think of was that I needed the space to understand it, to come to terms with it, and having Ray around would help.
That he was interested in more than friendship with me didn't cross my mind then. I suppose, had I been looking for clues, that I would have noticed the signs of his attraction. I hadn't been, however, and felt grateful that his friendship for me ran so deeply. It was only when I began my new duties that I realized I missed him, and began exploring the reasons why.
Ray was not an easy man to deal with; he could be mercurial in his moods, given to bouts of self-doubt and self-blame. Similarly, however, he was deeply passionate about the things which interested him, sometimes to an extreme. He was not what I would have expected, had I been warned of Ray Vecchio's undercover assignment. Still, I could not deny that what I felt was more than simple friendship.
Perhaps, I decided, what I feel for Ray Kowalski was best expressed through action, and not words. I wasn't sure how well those actions, were I to take them, would be received. I suppose in a way, I was more afraid of the consequences than the reception. Even assuming that I was right in presuming that my interpretation of Ray's willingness to suspend his life in Chicago to spend time with me is correct, I feared that Ray would want more than I was prepared to give.
The one thing I cannot give -- my heart -- was the one thing I suspected Ray wanted. No, it was best that I remained silent, and do nothing. At least, that's what I chose to believe then. It was simpler to pretend ignorance, to let things be as they were. I was certain that Ray would wait for me, would always be there for me, would understand even if my own emotions weren't clear. Strong emotions have proven to be my downfall, even if the actions were justified at the time: my grief over my father's death, my guilt and love for Victoria. I didn't understand then that keeping my heart locked away could be just as devastating as if I'd shared it -- or chose the wrong moment to make it known.
Maybe I should have spoken sooner, maybe I took it for granted that Ray was, as he'd once told me, "Mr. Intuition", maybe a thousand what-ifs scenarios that never happened. The events that led to Ray's return to Chicago will remain imprinted on my memory for a long time.
Hindsight, as Diefenbaker has reminded me on multiple occasions, is always twenty-twenty. Realistically, there was little I could have done to prevent what happened to Ray. Some other tragedy could have just as easily befallen him, something which might have fatally wounded him. Still, I could not suppress the shudder that ran through me as I remembered Maggie's frantic call to me, and the search we conducted shortly thereafter.
*****
"Maggie?" I called down the hallway, stepping cautiously through the ill-kept house.
"In the bedroom, Benton," my sister returned. "It's not pretty," she cautioned.
My chest tightened in response to that warning. It had been five days since Ray had gone missing while staying with Maggie, and I was prepared for the worst. "Understood," I replied, moving into the bedroom.
At first, I didn't see where she was. The midnight blue silk of the duvet blended with the jeans and dark plaid shirt she'd worn, concealing her in the shadows of the bedroom. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the deeper gloom, and I noted that the two windows had been draped with heavy fabric, concealing the afternoon sunlight. As I approached, I saw that she leaned over a barely recognizable Ray, unlocking him from the cuffs that kept him bound to the bed.
He was nude, and even in the half-light, I could tell that he'd been beaten severely. He was so still, the fear that he was dead flashed through my mind.
"He's alive," Maggie assured me, answering my unspoken question. "He's out cold, though. Either unconscious or drugged or both. From what I can tell, there are no broken bones, but the bruising is quite severe, and his pulse is weak."
A breath shuddered through me, but I did not dwell on my relief for long. Ray was still injured, and we had to get him to a hospital. I was grateful that Maggie had been assigned to a more cosmopolitan area than I; it meant that medical help was not far away. Even as I acknowledged that fact, another sprung to mind: if she hadn't been assigned to this small city, Ray wouldn't have been hurt, wouldn't have been in a place where temptation and danger mingled.
It is, of course, highly selfish of me to believe that he would not have found someone. Ray is a natural flirt, and we had been largely by ourselves in the wilderness, save for the occasional criminal we apprehended in the course of our vacation. I remembered clearly his comment to me that, unlike me, he at least appeared to be thinking about sex, balanced by his belief that he did not think love at first sight existed. In a way, I suppose I was prepared to accept his involvement with Maggie, and to a certain degree, encouraged such.
The last thing I had considered was that he might have chosen to look elsewhere for companionship. I didn't want to believe that he might have chosen this kind of company, but I couldn't rule out the possibility with absolute certainty. Beyond the facts that he loved Stella, flirted with women, and had seemed to be perfectly happy to be with me, I knew nothing of his sexual preferences.
Looking at Ray now, I could only wonder how he'd gotten himself into this situation, and then immediately told myself I was being unfair for assuming that he'd been a willing party to it. I couldn't see him choosing to be bound and naked, yet my mind refused to completely shunt that possibility aside. I was filled by a need to know that went beyond a need for evidence in a criminal investigation.
It is one of the few times in my life I wish I had left things be.
****
I felt, more than heard, Fraser step onto the small balcony of Maggie's apartment, where I'd been smoking a cigarette. I hadn't smoked a cigarette since Stella and I had broken up, and the nicotine was making my head dizzy. It was something, though, something I could focus on, something I understood, something more than the bruises and pain and flashes of memory that had been all I'd been able to think of in the last few days. I never understood how it felt to be in this uncertain shade of... gray, I have to call it, for lack of a better word. Now all I can think of how much I wish I didn't feel this way. It's been a week since Maggie and Fraser found me. They've been walking carefully around me ever since. I knew they didn't deserve to catch all of my anger, but I hate feeling helpless and afraid, especially when I woke up in the middle of the night screaming and unable to cope with whatever I'd been dreaming. Having Fraser hold me while I was half out of my mind wasn't on my list of fantasies, that's for damn sure.
Before Fraser could comment on my new habit, I crushed out the cigarette. The last thing I wanted was a lecture on the perils of smoking, especially since hearing from Fraser on something like that made me feel like I was eleven years old all over again.
"Ah, thank you kindly, Ray. I must comment, though, that I thought you were not a smoker."
I heard the reprimand in his tone and felt guilty, as I suspected he intended. "I wasn't," I told him now, my voice a challenge. I didn't turn to face him, staring out instead at the trees that veiled the apartment complex from the road. Damn, he could make me confess all my sins, just by being the kind of guy you didn't lie to, because honesty was something he valued in his friends. I sighed impatiently and corrected myself. "Okay, I used to be, got a problem with that?"
"No, I don't, Ray," Fraser answered patiently. He paused, took a deep breath, and exhaled. I could almost see his fingers rising to rub an eyebrow in an unconscious reflection at his frustration with me and smiled bitterly at the nearly instinctive wish that his fingers would be rubbing something else instead. "About what happened --"
"I don't wanna talk about it." I wasn't sure if I could talk about it to Fraser, if you wanna know the truth. How could I explain that what I couldn't remember clearly? That, at some point, I remember saying yes and not no? Bits and pieces of the truth flashed through a gray fog of memory, and I couldn't tell what had been real and what hadn't been. I felt hollow inside, and more than a little unclean by it all. Hell, the wonder was that the only vice I'd taken up was smoking, instead of something worse.
"Ray, I'm simply trying to understand how you ended up in that house."
"I told you, I don't wanna talk about it. It's over. Done." Yeah, like I really wanted to rehash the whole date-rape scenario when I wasn't having a flashback about it. It was bad enough I'd suspected Jill slipped something into my beer; I didn't know how else to explain the Rohypo stuff the doctors found in my system.
I turned now to face him. As always, seeing him out of uniform sent shivers of longing zipping through my body, and the way he looked in jeans and a red plaid flannel shirt with its sleeves neatly rolled up past his elbows was still one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen. I didn't want to think about what it would be like to see him naked. As it was, I lit another cigarette, forgetting I didn't want his lecture, and took a quick drag, trying to calm myself before I revealed too much. Some part of me took comfort in knowing I still could be turned on by him, because I had a nasty suspicion a woman would never again arouse me like that again.
He frowned and waved off the smoke that curled around me, even though I'd taken care to exhale with my head turned aside so I wasn't blowing it in his face.
"Ray, I do hope you realize you can tell me anything. I realize this is on the level of being highly personal, but if it helps apprehend --"
Angrily, I stomped out my cigarette, the sound of my foot startling Fraser into silence. Why was it so important to him? I wondered impatiently. "I don't remember, Fraser. What are you going to do about it? Hypnotize me so you can pry it out of my brain?" Couldn't he see that I just wanted it over with, that if was anyone other than me as the victim, I'd be just as gung-ho to find the sicko who did it? I was gonna be leaving here anyway, and I didn't want anyone else to know I hadn't been able to protect myself. I didn't see the point.
"Actually, Ray, as you may recall me telling you before, hypnotism can be an effective means of conducting an investigation. It did help us find the fourth man during the --"
"Fraser, I don't care, " I interrupted. I knew he wouldn't buy it, but I had to try anyway. I could fool nearly everyone who didn't know the truth into believing I was Ray Vecchio, bluff my way to win my fair share of poker games with the guys, but Fraser could read my face like a book. Made me wonder if he'd done the same to the real Ray Vecchio.
"Ray, I don't believe you," he countered, right on cue. "On the contrary, I believe you care very deeply."
He wasn't much for touching, 'cept when I was screaming my head off in a nightmare, so I was surprised when he reached for me. Startled, I jerked back. The look on his face trapped me. It wasn't often I saw his face like this, so open and unreserved. I almost missed his words for the panic roaring in my ears.
"As do I," Fraser declared softly.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" I demanded, reacting instinctively. Everything I wanted was just close enough to grab, and it felt wrong somehow. I didn't like that feeling. "What, you just figure this out? What you gonna do, Frase, offer yourself to me?"
He looked at me. "If that's what you need, Ray."
"Need? Fuck, Fraser, I don't want it like that," I exploded, shaking off his arm.
"Ray--"
"No, Fraser, don't. You never let me touch you before, and now you want me to accept it out of pity? That's so wrong."
"I don't mean it that way, Ray."
"Oh, so how do you mean it, Fraser?"
"You obviously went through a terrible ordeal, and whoever hurt you should be punished. I thought perhaps you would like --"
"What? A hug? A date with a shrink? You gonna kiss me and make me feel all better?" I could hear my voice rising, felt the anger swell inside me.
"Ray, you're being ridiculous," Fraser said sharply. "If you'd let me explain, you'd understand what I'm attempting to do."
"Why?" I knew I was lashing out, but I suddenly couldn't stand the rejection I sensed was coming, the conditions that he was giving. "Everything with you's got strings."
"Not everything."
"No? You'll be my partner, but you won't carry a gun. You'll be my lover, but you won't let me touch you. I gotta get beat up and raped and lost for five days, and then you'll think about maybe fucking me?"
"Ray, you're twisting the truth to suit your purposes," Fraser observed quietly, not backing down, taking my anger like he always did, like nothing could ever ruffle his feathers. "You said just this morning that you didn't remember clearly what happened to you."
I snorted, and took another drag on my cigarette. "Oh, so are you saying I like getting tied up and fucked? You sayin' you want it rough?" I couldn't believe what the hell I was saying, but it was too late to take the words back, and I was just mad enough to not care.
"No, Ray. That's not what I'm trying to say." He snagged the cigarette out of my mouth before I could protest and put it out, his eyes disapproving.
God, I hated that look. Something was telling me I was going to regret this night before it was over, and it was one more damned thing on top of Fraser making me feel like I was a scrawny kid all over again that was pissing me off. "Oh, so enlighten me, O Wise One."
"I have come to the realization that while I am not sure about love and the mysteries of where my heart lies, in the romantic sense of the phrase that is, I do know who I care about, and --"
I stopped listening right at that point. "Fuck that, Fraser," I declared, interrupting him. "I don't care anymore."
"You're being unreasonable, Ray."
"Unreasonable? Make up your mind, Fraser. You gonna pass, play, or fold?"
"This isn't a poker game, Ray."
"No?" I practically yelled it. "Then what the fuck do you want me to do?"
The patio door opened then and I looked past Fraser to see Maggie standing there. "Ray? Benton? Is everything all right? I heard your voices through the glass, though I couldn't make out what you were saying."
I couldn't look at her, couldn't look back. I had the urge to hit something, and I had to burn off the anger and the hurt before I did something I'd regret. I stepped around her and headed quickly out of the house. I half-expected Fraser to follow, and when I realized he wasn't, that pretty much settled everything for me.
It was late when I got back. I was tired now more than anything, and the hurt I felt had settled into a dull, throbbing ache. I still wasn't one hundred percent back, what with all the bruising I had, but I was damned if I was going to let it slow me down. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone; all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there until I figured out what the hell to do next. Unfortunately, Maggie had other ideas.
She was waiting for me in my room, and stopped my protest before I could voice it. She just opened her arms and hugged me, and I nearly broke down in tears at the sweetness of the unexpected gesture. My emotions were too close to the surface now. Suddenly, it seemed as though all the crap I'd been through in the last few days came crashing down on me, and I couldn't hold back anymore.
Maggie guided me back to the bed, holding me as if I was a little kid. She said nothing, gave me no reassurances that everything would be okay in the morning. Both of us knew better. Long after my tears were spent, she continued to hold me. I felt like I'd poured out my pain in long, bone-wracking sobs, until the only thing left was a shell of me. I was naked, exposed.
I didn't belong here.
I didn't want to be here.
Not when whoever the hell did whatever it was they did to me was still running around, and I didn't even have the luxury of thinking that as long as Fraser was with me, I could overcome that. All I could think of was how he'd made a mockery of what should've been, and how I couldn't even stay mad at him for it.
I had to leave before I lost myself.
The thought that haunted me was that maybe I was already too late.
****
Maggie was waiting at the door as I walked up. I wasn't surprised to see her; trying to sneak anything past a Mountie, especially a Mountie who was born with Fraser genes for super-hearing, is like trying to sneak donuts past Diefenbaker. It just doesn't work. I half-smiled as I thought of how Maggie looked, guarding the exit as the furball would've done, if he'd been here. My smile faded, though, as I remembered how she'd held me close the night before. The emptiness she'd unsuccessfully kept at bay rose now to nearly choke me, and I swallowed hard.
"I wish you wouldn't leave like this," Maggie stated quietly.
I gave her a tired smile. "I have a job and a life in Chicago," I reminded her.
"You love him." She hesitated even as I narrowed my eyes at her perceptiveness, then exhaled quickly. "I would've said you're a gambling man, Ray."
"I lost that bet a long time ago, Maggie. I'll never have your brother's heart; he doesn't know where it is and he's not exactly certain if he can give it freely." I heard the mocking slant my voice gave his words, and watched Maggie's face twist in comprehension. "Besides, I'd have to stand in line, even if I had a chance; Vecchio knew him before I did. I was just filling in for Vecchio." I grinned, amused by the irony. "Might as well have gone all the way with the pretense, you know? Vecchio loved Fraser, I was Vecchio." I shrugged, trying to tell her I didn't care anymore about that. I doubted that she bought it, and in a way, I didn't care. I just wanted to get going. Even if I had to walk back to Chicago, I was going. "Look, Maggie, I owe you for rescuing me, but I'm due back in Chicago in a week and a half, and I...I just can't stay here any longer."
"Benton will be back this afternoon. You should wait, talk to him. He'll be back in a while; he just went to walk Diefenbaker."
"That's just it, Maggie. I'm not needed here. He doesn't need me for anything, not even for a walk with the wolf."
She stared at me for a long minute, then sighed resignedly. "Call me when you get home, please?"
"Sure," I promised easily.
Then she did something that surprised me. She reached for the Stetson that rested on the side table by the door and handed it to me. "If I wasn't shorter than you, I'd set this on your head," she told me. "It's yours now."
Blinking past the sudden rush of tears, I found myself oddly grateful that she hadn't lied and said it was Fraser's. I knew it was her own, likely a spare, but still... I knew what it meant to her. I bent down to kiss her cheek and hug her, careful not to crush my new gift. "Thanks, Maggie. I know what this means to you."
"It's Benton's. He wanted you to have it."
Startled, I drew back. "Maggie, you don't have to lie."
"I'm not," she argued quietly. "He wanted you to have it."
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes briefly, needing to break the eye contact. Fraser had known I was leaving without saying a word, and he was letting me walk away. I couldn't have Fraser, but I could have the sacred Stetson, and that idea was messing with my brain something fierce. Suddenly, all I could think of was how I had to get to Vecchio, and maybe between the two of us we could figure what the hell Fraser's gift meant. I took a deep breath, and walked to the nearest bus stop.
It had taken me most of the week to get back to Chicago, between all the bus transfers and detours I'd had to take; where Maggie lived wasn't close to a major airport, and I'd gotten sidetracked trying to get to the closest one. I'd gotten frustrated enough that I'd decided just to walk on home, and that's how I'd ended up hitchhiking. Yeah, I'd known how dangerous it was, and how illegal it was, but I guess some part of me was hoping for the adrenaline rush, for something to prove I wasn't just a mess of nightmares and broken hopes. I stared up at the ceiling now, trying to breathe, knowing I had to calm myself down because there was no one else around to do it. Slowly, I got myself kinda under control again, reminding myself that no one here knew what happened in Canada, and if I was lucky, I could keep it that way.
Yeah.
Right.
Like Vecchio wouldn't wanna know more. Wouldn't be poking around, trying to figure it out like the detective he was. My only consolation was hoping that he didn't know how to get a hold of Fraser. I almost picked up the phone to call Vecchio, to tell him, but I was scared of making things worse than they already were. If I said nothing, maybe we'd be able to pretend it meant nothing. I could walk into the station on Monday and pretend I was just glad to be back, that me and him could be partners and work together and that was it.
I didn't want it to be like that.
Swearing, I picked myself up and headed for the store. Monday would be here soon enough, and I had exactly twenty-four hours to figure out what the hell I was going to do with my fucked-up life.
*** Finis ****
August 3, 2000; revised October 23, 2000 Alice in Stonyland Comments and constructive criticism welcome anytime. :-)