~~~Warnings~~~

Contains a depiction of a committed romantic and sexual relationship between two consenting adults who both happen to be male. If this bothers you, then don't read it. Your sympathy card is in the mail.

Rated... um, PG? It's got love, romance, a little making out, but no sex.

~~~Disclaimers~~~

Due South and the boys belong to Alliance Communications and TNT, which is a pity because I think they'd have more fun if all we fen had joint custody. The male-pregnancy idea comes from the movie "Junior," and I have no idea who owns the rights to that except that it isn't me. The male-male fertilization process comes entirely from my own diseased brain, as do most of the medical inaccuracies. Emory University knows nothing of this, and it's far closer to owning me than I am to owning it.

If you still feel that you have in some way been violated by this story, feel free to sue me. That is, if you really want a coffeepot, eight biology textbooks, and a month's worth of dirty laundry. Nobody's getting my yellow rubber ducky.

~~~Dedications~~~

This story is dedicated to:
My mother, who gave me the idea in the first place by saying she didn't like slash because it meant they could never have children;
My beloved roommate Silvina, who tirelessly beta-read each section (so she also gets part of the blame for this!);
My non-live-in beta reader, Rojas 1143;
Dr., aka Constable, Baker, my biology professor who fielded such questions as "If you gave a man estrogen, would he develop breasts?" with remarkable equanimity and did not suggest that I should seek psychiatric help (and incidentally taught me everything I know about giardia);
All the denizens of the Closet, who sent me such wonderful feedback as I posted there, especially Cheryl, Corrinne, and Lys;
And all the rest of those whose names appear herein, whether they were aware of it at the time or not.

~~~Background~~~

In my universe, Call of the Wild does not exist. It never happened. It was all a terrible dream and the dreamers are now in therapy. As for the rest of Seasons Three and Four, I'm pro-choice. I think the story will work whether you love third season DS, have never seen it, or believe, as someone once so eloquently phrased it, that it was all a coma-induced hallucination Benny suffered after falling off the van. I did, however, borrow the idea of Ben's half-sister Maggie.

OURS

~~~June 6, 2002~~~

"Is something bothering you, Ray?" They were sitting on the front porch of the Vecchio house on a summer afternoon, watching as the nieces and nephews attempted to organize a soccer game on the lawn.

"Naw, Benny, everything's fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you've been unusually quiet all afternoon. In fact, I've noticed lately that you get this way after every visit with your family. So naturally, I concluded that there was something on your mind."

"Aw, it's nothing."

"All right."

Ray sighed. Benny's eternal patience always got the best of him, so he might just as well give in now. "Look, Benny. We've been together what, six years now? And it's been great, you know, I wouldn't give it up for anything. It's just, coming here, seeing Maria's kids, Frannie's kids... I always kinda wanted kids of my own, that's all."

"I know that, Ray. I myself always expected that I would someday settle down, raise a family. It's a perfectly natural desire."

"So how do you deal with it?"

"I have you, Ray." He smiled at his partner, and when Ray grinned back, he continued. "And we see your sisters' children enough to pretend they're ours."

Ray chuckled. "Yeah. A little dose of chaos, anytime we need it. And when we get tired of whiny voices and runny noses, we can go home. All the pleasures of parenthood with none of the work."

The conversation moved on to other things, and the subject appeared to be closed. It was nearly a month later when it came up again, by a very roundabout route. They were sitting at the breakfast table when Fraser spoke.

"You know, Ray, I've been reading a very interesting report. It seems that a team of genetics researchers at Emory Medical Center decided to address the difficulty that some geneticists have in breeding for specific traits. You see, it can take hundreds, even thousands of generations for a certain mutation to appear at random in a population. With recent developments in DNA work, that number has been greatly reduced, but it is still quite difficult to produce the desired change, and even then there is a problem in building a true-breeding population. If the organism in question reproduces quickly and has a large number of offspring, as is the case with the commonly-used fruit fly, then there is a reasonable chance that the scientist will soon have a good stock of fertile subjects of both sexes, all carrying the trait. However, if the investigator finds it necessary for some reason to use a different animal, for instance a cow or a sheep, that has a lengthy gestational period and few offspring--"

"This is all fascinating, Benny, but you want to get to the point?"

"I am, Ray, if you will just be patient. Anyway, as I was saying, if the scientist chooses an animal which bears only a few offspring over a great deal of time, he may find himself with a very limited number of potential carriers from which to choose. For instance, all of the affected members of the F1 generation, F1 being the name the Austrian monk Gregor Mendel--"

"The peas. Yeah, I know, I took biology in high school." Though he acted grumpy, Ray actually enjoyed listening to the bizarre stories that illustrated how his favorite Mountie's convoluted mind worked. However, if he didn't speed things up a little, they were likely to be here all day.

"Yes. Well, all of the affected members of the F1 generation may quite possibly be of the same gender, necessitating the production of a second or third filial generation before the scientist can see the results of his or her work. Now, this research team I was speaking of realized that if it were somehow possible to somehow breed animals of the same gender, it could save years of waiting, and the work would progress--"

"Wait a minute. You mean they wanted to breed two bulls?"

"Well, I was using cattle as a hypothetical example, Ray, but in essence, yes."

"And did they?" He was leaning forward in his chair now, as the implications of what Ben was saying hit him. If this were possible...

"Yes."

"Whoa." There was silence for a full minute as Ray absorbed this information. "So how come this hasn't been in all the papers?"

"Well, it has gotten a few mentions. But with cloning now common practice it does not seem so remarkable, and it has been rather overshadowed by the recent political scandals and the Prince of Wales' engagement."

Ray grimaced. "Yeah, the press has been kinda single-minded lately... Do they think it will work on humans?"

"Will what work on humans? The media?"

"No, they're inhuman all right but that's not what I meant. Do the scientists think this single-sex breeding thing will work on humans?"

"They don't know, Ray. But I must admit, that's why I brought it up. I thought that if it were possible, then..."

"You and I could..."

"Precisely."

"Wow. I mean, that would be..."

"Indeed."

"So... what do we do?"

"I have the address of the research team here. We could write and volunteer as test subjects."

"You really think they'd take us?"

"It's worth a try."

~~~June 21, 2003~~~

Eleven months and a few dozen letters later, they found themselves in Atlanta, sitting in a small, cluttered office, being interviewed by a woman in a white lab coat and thick glasses. "The first successes were made years ago," she was saying. "At first, nobody would take us seriously. It's taken us almost twelve years to gain recognition from the scientific community, when we bred the two male Labrador retrievers. Now we've finally been given permission to try it on humans. I was intrigued by your letters, Inspector. The two of you seem to be exactly the kind of people we're looking forhealthy, reliable, and in a committed relationship, apparently with the full support of a large family. Are you really sure you want to go through with this?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ray answered. "We've given it careful thought, and we want to have this baby."

"And you, sir, are willing to stay at home and raise the child?"

"Yeah," Ray answered, "I've been working as a police consultant for the past six and a half years, and I can do that from home. They're setting me up with some fancy computer so I can send in my opinions in between changing diapers."

"All right." She stood up. "Well, let me give you a tour of the lab and I'll explain the procedure in more detail."

She led them into a large room filled with jars and beakers and complicated-looking machines. A young man in a rubber apron was seated at one of the counters, peering into a microscope. "Bruce is one of our graduate assistants," their guide explained. "Hey, Bruce, why don't you tell our guests what you're doing?"

The student spun his stool to face them. "Right now I'm removing the genetic material from a donated ovum," he said, his words slightly muffled by the sanitary mask he wore. "I insert a very fine needle into the egg and suck out the nucleus. Then I will inject the ovum with the nuclear material of a sperm and place it in an incubator. If the ovum survives all that mucking about, it will then be fertilized in the ordinary way with sperm from the second donor. I monitor the fertilized ova for 72 hours, and the ones that seem to be dividing normally I pass along to the doc there, who takes care of the rest."

Dr. Young smiled. "After that it's just like the movie 'Junior.' The zygote is implanted into the pseudomother's abdominal cavity, and if all goes well, the baby is delivered surgically in nine months. You're sure about this, Inspector?"

"I'm sure."

Ray grinned. "He's always wanted to be a woman."

"Now, Ray, you know that's not true. I dressed, as you say, in 'drag' on only one occasion, and it was almost nine years ago. And it was to help YOU in YOUR case, I might add."

"Whatever you say, Benny. Whatever you say."

"All right, boys," the doctor interrupted. "Let's get started."

~~~August 12, 2003~~~

Ray watched the flickering blue images on the monitor intently, trying to make sense of the obscure shapes. He knew, of course, that some of them were organs and others were bones and muscles of Fraser's abdomen, but for all he could tell, it could have been modern art or one of the earlier transmissions from the Hubble Space Telescope. Nevertheless, he nodded and hmmm'd in what he hoped was an intelligent manner when Dr. Young pointed to a particular smudge (Part of the nude or his staircase? An extreme closeup of Saturn?) and said, "Here's where we'll inject the zygote." Fraser, lightly sedated, watched the proceedings with interest and gave Ray a slight smile. "Now, Mr. Vecchio, if you'll just move over there out of the way, we'll get started and you can watch the whole thing on the monitor." He obeyed, reluctant to leave Ben's side but knowing that if he interfered at all, they would send him out of the room completely.

Time seemed to stand still as the sea of white coats surrounded Fraser's operating table, obscuring him from Ray's view. His eyes glued themselves to the screen, unblinking from the moment the thin bright line of the needle first appeared in the field of view until it disappeared and the doctor announced that the impregnation was complete. He heard a sigh, unnaturally loud in his little corner, and realized that it was his own and that he had been holding his breath all along. He took a few more shaky breaths as the screen went blank and was rolled away, lost in the general bustle of finishing up. Two minutes later, Fraser was being helped into a wheelchair, ready to go back to the little room on the fifth floor where he'd spent the previous night and would spend the following week, until they were reasonably sure the operation had been a success and the zygote would be neither rejected nor absorbed by Fraser's system. From then on, it would be nine months of medication three times a day, checkups three times a week for the first month and every two weeks thereafter, and then.... Realizing the others were leaving him behind, Ray stirred himself and followed.

 ~~~August 19, 2003~~~

Seven days later, at ten o'clock on a hot August morning, Benton Fraser was pronounced in perfect health and released from the hospital. Ray and a small crowd of interested medical staff loaded him into the waiting Riv with a large box containing enough hormonal supplements to last a month, eight pages of detailed instructions, and a bunch of yellow chrysanthemums. They had both laughed when Ray had brought him the flowers, recalling the story of the ill-fated bouquet he'd never gotten in the hospital nine years before. Now he smiled as he looked at them sitting on the dashboard beside his Stetson, touched as much by the memory as by the gift.

They were quiet during most of the ten-minute ride to the apartment they'd rented, suddenly shy with one another. It had been slightly awkward before, in the hospital, but there had been distractions then in the form of nurses and orderlies wandering in and out every few minutes. Now, alone with one another at last, the tension was palpable. Ray glanced furtively at Ben's hand where it lay protectively over his flat stomach, his thumb rubbing absently back and forth. "Benny?"

"Hmmm?"

"I, uh... nuthin'."

They pulled up in front of the apartment and quickly carried everything inside. At Ray's insistence, remembering the seven pregnancies he'd lived through with his sisters, they had rented one on the ground floor. Once inside and settled, the silence descended once again. This time it was Ben who broke it.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not... sorry... we did this, are you?"

"Are you?"

"Of course not. I was merely concerned that you might be."

"Well, I'm not. Unless, unless you are, of course."

"No, Ray. I was merely concerned that you might be--"

"Benny." Ray interrupted him. "You're babbling."

"Oh." He fell silent, looking first at Ray, then at the floor. After a moment Ray relented, and with a hand on his shoulder led him to sit on the edge of the bed and moved to sit beside him.

"Look, Benny. Of all the weird things I've done since I met you, this is probably the weirdest." He was rewarded by a brief flash of Ben's smile. "But we talked this through before we did it. We both thought it was a good idea then, and I haven't changed my mind. I'm not gonna change my mind, Benny. No matter what."

Ben didn't say anything, but the love and thankful relief in his eyes said more than any words. Ray drew him back onto the bed and held him close. "I love you."

 ~~~September 11, 2003~~~

Ray was pacing. "There is nothing to do! We've been to every movie showing at every theatre in the greater Atlanta area, including that one about the dog which, by the way, I can't believe you made me go to; there isn't a single case on that computer they fixed me up with, as if there isn't enough crime in the world that they could spare me something to keep me busy; we get seventy channels and not one of them is showing a single thing worth watching! I am going nuts!"

Ben laid down the book he'd been reading and regarded his partner mildly. "Have you tried reading, Ray? There is an excellent library only five blocks from here. I checked out several books while you were out this afternoon. They're on the table."

Ray looked skeptical, but crossed over to the table and picked up a thick volume and read the title on its spine. Incredulous, he picked up the next, and the next. "The Outline of History. Chekhov: The Major Plays. Medieval And Early Modern Science. Manual of the Vascular Flora of the Carolinas. I don't know what amazes me more, that you read this stuff or that somebody wrote it in the first place."

"Well, Ray, it's actually quite"

"Benny." Ray approached him slowly and sat beside him on the bed. His face was deadpan but there was a telltale twinkle in his eyes. "When this baby is born..." he paused for emphasis "and it's time for reading bedtime stories..." he held Ben's gaze steadily "I get to pick the book."

"But Ray, I hardly think--" he found he couldn't finish as Ray's mouth descended to cover his own. He returned the kiss with enthusiasm for a few seconds before pulling away. "We'll take turns."

Ray rolled his eyes and grinned. "Great. I can't wait to see what..." his words trailed away as he caught sight of Ben's face. "You OK?" he asked in quick concern.

Ben took a deep breath and summoned a smile. "Of course, Ray. I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You're looking a little green around the gills."

"Oh, don't be silly, Ray. Really, I'm fine." A faint dew of perspiration was breaking out on his forehead and he swallowed hard. "I just... oh dear." He bolted for the bathroom.

Ray followed at a more sedate pace and tapped lightly on the door. "Benny? You OK in there?" The only answer he received was a prolonged retch, and he grimaced in a mixture of disgust and sympathy. Suddenly realizing what must be wrong, he relaxed and chuckled. He tapped on the door again. "Benny?"

This time he was rewarded by a muffled "Yes, Ray?"

"Benny, I'm going to run down to the store and get something that'll help your stomach. I'll be back in about ten or fifteen minutes. You gonna be OK here by yourself?"

"I'll be fi--" the word was abruptly broken off as another wave of nausea hit.

"OK. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Ray made it to the store and back in just under eleven minutes. When he let himself into the apartment, Ben was sitting on the edge of the bed with an empty garbage can between his feet. His normally light complexion was even paler than usual, nearly white, and he had removed his shirt. Ray assumed, correctly, that it had been accidentally soiled. He looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Hey, Benny. You feeling any better?"

Ben managed a wan smile. "Not really, no."

Ray hurried to the kitchen to set down the brown grocery bag he carried and unload its contents. When he returned, he was carrying a plate and a glass of something pale gold in color and fizzy. He set the plate on the nightstand and handed the glass to Ben. "Here. This'll help."

"What is it?"

"Ginger ale." He gestured towards the plate. "And soda crackers. Maria n' Frannie swear by 'em." Ben took a tiny, experimental sip of the drink. "Hey, you oughta like it, it's Canadian."

Ben's smile this time was small but genuine, and the color was returning to his face. "Thanks, Ray." He took a slightly larger sip.

Ray smiled and gave a small shrug. "Sure." He fetched a towel from the bathroom and returned to spread it over Ben's pillow. "Here, lie down." He helped Ben to lie back and get his legs under the covers, and moved the garbage can up by Ben's head. Once Ben was comfortable, Ray sat down in the chair beside the bed and they regarded one another silently. After a moment Ray ducked his head suddenly in an unsuccessful effort to hide a broad, amused grin.

"What?" Ben sounded affronted.

"I'm sorry, Benny. It's just... you're the only guy I know whose entire medical history, aside from bullet wounds, stabbings, and frozen seal traumas--"

"Otter."

"I thought you said it was a seal."

"It was a sea otter. I was struck by it, I should think I would know what it was."

"Then what was with the seal? I know you said something about getting clubbed with a baby seal."

"Ohhh... no, Ray, it was poachers who were trapping baby seals. They discovered my identity as an officer of the law and clubbed me repeatedly, but the clubs were made of wood. It was completely unrelated to the incident in which I was struck by the otter."

"Oh. Well, anyway, you're the only guy I know whose life illnesses are limited to pinkeye and morning sickness."

"Now, that's just not amusing, Ray."

~~~September 12, 2003~~~

In the morning, Ben woke early as usual and promptly vomited into the garbage can. The sound woke Ray, and the smell hit him about five seconds later. He was out of bed and had the windows open with a speed rarely associated with getting up in the morning. He stood close to the screen and breathed deeply of the fresh air before speaking. "Phew. Benny, we gotta get some air freshener."

"I'm sorey, Ray." Ben stood shakily, gathered up his can and headed for the bathroom. "I can't help--"

"It's OK, Benny. I know you can't help it. But I can't either and if we don't do something about it I'm gonna be fighting you for that can." He found his clothes and dressed quickly, breathing as shallowly as possible. "I'm going down to the store and see if I can get something to deal with the smell, be back before you know it. Should I get some more ginger ale?"

"It seemed to help, Ray." came the muffled response.

"There's still five cans of it in the kitchen, I got a six-pack last night. And you should try the crackers, they're supposed to help too. You're gonna be OK til I get back, right?"

"Fine, Ray."

"Ok then. Back in a few."

Ben was almost relieved to hear the front door close and know that he was alone with his nausea. He and Ray had been as good as married for over seven years and best friends for more than nine, but his upbringing was still determinedly with him and he felt a little uncomfortable having anyone see him lose control over his own body. The fact that it was morning sickness helped a little; it allowed him to think that, in a way, he was doing this for Ray... and for the baby. The baby... his hand moved unconsciously to his stomach and he fingered the place where the zygote had been injected a little less than a month before. He did some quick figuring. By now, the zygoteno, at this stage it would be called an embryo-- would be about half a centimetre long, have a beating heart... He stood and washed his face in the sink and rinsed his mouth, his nausea gone. He quickly replaced the plastic liner in his vomit can, tied a knot in the top of the used bag and headed for the outdoor can with it, depositing the fresh one by his bedside en route. Ray was already inside when he returned, lost somewhere in a haze of aerosol spray.

"Ray!" The excitement in his voice matched his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Ray's indistinct form moved toward the sound, emerging from the cloud. Like a celestial apparition, Ben thought happily.

"Hey, Benny. You feeling better? I got pine scent, thought you might like that, the whole 'great outdoors' thing, they also ha--" The rest of that thought was smothered in an enthusiastic kiss. He pulled back in surprise. "Benny, wha...?"

"We're going to have a baby, Ray!"

Ray stared blankly at Ben's beaming face for about half a second, then felt his own face break into a broad, silly grin. He put his arms around the man who was having his baby and held tight. "Yeah, Benny. We are."

They spent the next three hours drifting in a happy pine-scented dream, reclining against the pillows on their bed. Ben's arm curled protectively around his trim stomach, and Ray's arm curled protectively around Benny. Their voices blended in a smooth, joyful murmur.

"I knew, of course, intellectually, Ray, but I don't think I fully realized until now"

"I know, Benny. It's like it didn't seem real until now. I've just been feeling like I was disconnected from the rest of my life with this sorta vague weirdness hanging over me, but now this, this is like, it's official--"

"Yes... this is the first real, solid sign..." Suddenly Ben turned and looked his partner straight in the eye. "Ray, I'm pregnant."

They stared at one another for several seconds. Then, as if on cue, they both dissolved in a fit of the giggles.

 ~~~September 17, 2003~~~

A week later, they weren't laughing anymore. Ben's morning sickness had developed into a twenty-four-hours-a-day, seven-days-a-week nauseous nightmare. Ray found himself eating alone in the kitchen with the door shut, since Ben could no longer stand the sight or smell of food. The only things he could manage to get down were his soda crackers and ginger ale, and they rarely stayed down very long. They went through four cans of pine-scented air freshener in six days, and the apartment and everything in it smelled like a wild Canadian forest full of very, very sick bears. Ray was in the middle of opening a fifth can when a moan from the bed interrupted him.

"No... please, Ray... no more..."

Ray was immediately at his side, placing a concerned hand on Ben's shoulder and taking care not to block Ben's access to his now-everpresent garbage can. "What's the matter, Benny?"

"The smell, Ray... oh God, the smell..." Ben's face had a ghastly pallor, and he was covered with a fresh sheen of sweat. He rolled his head weakly and buried his nose in the pillow.

"You mean the air freshener? It bothers you?"

Ben nodded, his face still mostly obscured by bedding, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he fought against both nausea and tears.

Ray stared at the slim cylinder in his hands, at the cartoon drawing of a happy chipmunk waving a pine branch. "I'm sorry, Benny, I had no idea... I mean, we've been using it all week and you never said anything..." He put the can down abruptly. "They have other scents, you know... I can get something else, anything you want..."

"Nooo... no more smells... please... I can't stand the smells... everything smells..." He retched weakly into the garbage can, but there was nothing to bring up. Ray turned his face away, unable to stand the sight of his beloved, invincible Mountie, his sensitive Benny, brought to this. And all because of him. "I'm sorry, Benny." He got up and walked to the window, where he stood with his back to the room, his gaze fixed unseeing on the reflections in the glass. "We shouldn'ta done this."

"No." The soft sound hung in the air, palpable in the early evening twilight of the room.

"No, Ray. I'm glad."

Ray turned around. Ben was lying half-raised on one elbow, looking at him. He was still pale, but there was a little of the old familiar determination in the set of his jaw. "This is all temporary, Ray. And if this is what it takes for us to have a child of our own, then... ohhh..." He sank back down onto the pillow, closed his eyes, and swallowed hard as another wave of nausea overtook him. He fought it down. "I can do this. I am a Mountie."

Ray grinned at that, though the concern did not leave his eyes. "Well, Benny, not that I would know, but I don't think this is covered in Mountie Basic Training." He moved slowly to crouch at Ben's side and took his hand. "You're sure about this? That you really wanna go through with it?"

His eyes never leaving Ray's face, Ben slowly lifted the hand that was joined to Ray's and turned it so that their fingers interlaced. "I'm sure."

"Ok." They shared a long, intimate gaze, which was abruptly broken by Ben's sudden dive for the garbage can. Ray stood up with a long-suffering sigh. "It's gonna be a long coupla months."

 ~~~September 27, 2003~~~

It was difficult to get Ben to the clinic for his next checkup. He had always been sensitive to odors, and the hormones of pregnancy heightened that sense to unbearable levels. They had had to switch the pine-scented spray for a so-called "scent-free" air neutralizer, which Ben could, if just barely, tolerate. Riding in the Riviera, with its faint odors of oil and gasoline, wolf musk, coffee, and various other old-car smells, turned out to be ten minutes of sheer torture. When they finally arrived, it was all Ben could do to walk into the clinic without falling over, even leaning on Ray's arm.

Dr. Young took one look at Ben's haggard face and emaciated frame and gasped in horror. "The last time you were in here you said you'd had a 'slight touch' of morning sickness!" She turned to Ray. "Has he been like this the whole two weeks?"

Ray's voice sounded as tired as he looked. "It wasn't all that bad at first. It just kept getting worse. I tried to get him to come in once or twice, but he said he'd expected this and didn't want to bother you without an appointment."

"Well, the next time your partner decides to play stoic, you drag him in here if you have to. The university has a lot invested in this too, you know. So Ben," she continued, returning her level stare to him, "if you really want to be a hero, the best way you can do that is by keeping yourself and that baby as healthy as possible. Believe me, it's a lot less trouble to adjust your meds than to start all over with a fresh subject after you've managed to kill yourself."

The Mountie had been standing unconsciously at attention to receive his chastisement, and now he looked contritely down at his shoes. "Understood, ma'am." He looked up a little too quickly and swayed visibly on his feet. Ray and the doctor both jumped to steady him and help him onto the examination table.

"All right, Ben, you know the drill. Arm, please." Ben obediently rolled up his sleeve and extended his left arm, and Dr. Young drew a sample of his blood. She bandaged the small wound and handed him an empty plastic bottle with a lid. "Ok, you go to the restroom and fill this at least half full. The results should be ready in about half an hourjust because you're such a special case." She winked at him, and Ray grinned. Even forty-one, gay, and pregnant, Benny could still charm women. "Then we'll talk about your medication."

It was actually closer to an hour before the doctor returned. Ben was napping on the table, and Ray glanced up from his copy of the January 1984 issue of 'Life' to greet her. "Y'know, doc, I realize you probably pride yourself on having the largest collection of antique magazines in the Western hemisphere, but over the past month I've worked my way through the entire stack and now you've left me hanging. Now I'll never know if Reagan got reelected."

"Sorry, Ray. If I put out anything new, they'd revoke my medical license." She looked over at Ben's still form. "Has he been sleeping much lately?"

"Off and on. He wakes up sick a lot, and he naps during the day a lot. I don't know how it evens out."

"Hmm. Well, I hate to do this, but..." She moved to the table and patted the broad back. "C'mon, Ben, rise and shine." Ben rose, then quickly sank again as he grabbed for the emesis basin he'd been provided with upon arrival. Dr. Young sighed. "Sorry about that." When Ben had finished, she handed him a glass of water and brought a package of soda crackers out of a cabinet, which she opened and set within easy reach. Then she sat down with a sheaf of laboratory charts.

"Ok. Your lab results look pretty good. You're dehydrated from the constant vomiting, but not seriously enough to warrant hospitalization. I'm going to lower the amount of HCG, that's human chorionic gonadotropin, in your hormone cocktail, which should help with the nausea, and I'm writing you a prescription for some pills that should help too. Take one as soon as you get home, and then three times a day with your regular meds. If you're not keeping fluids down within forty-eight hours, come back and we'll admit you and rehydrate you by IV." She turned to Ray. "And I'm counting on you to make sure he takes care of himself. OK?"

"Will do. Maybe with you behind me I can actually get him to listen to me."

"All right. Then, if all goes well, I'll see you in two weeks."

"Sure. Two weeks. Thanks, doc."

Ben managed to pull himself together and compose his features into a polite smile. "Thank you kindly."

 ~~~November 18, 2003~~~

The medication worked, and by the following day Ben's morning sickness was down to manageable levels. The rest of the first trimester passed without incident. Ray solved sixty-eight cases over the computer, four of which earned him official commendations. Ben, since he was on sabbatical from the RCMP and had no assignments of his own, divided his time among helping with Ray's cases, volunteering with a few local service organizations, and reading.. Once a week he would go out and bring home a thick stack of volumes. By October, he was well on his way to reading every book on pregnancy, baby care, and child rearing in circulation at three different libraries. He covered every aspect, from biology to philosophy to tribal customs and urban legends, and read the interesting bits out loud to Ray as he watched television. At first, Ray ignored him as usual, but the situation piqued his interest and he found himself listening. Within two weeks, he was reading over Ben's shoulder while the game played on unnoticed. Then came the night when the television stayed off and Ray picked up one of the books of his own volition. From then on, most of their evenings were spent contentedly reading baby literature and trading information.

One night in mid-November, Ray laid down one book and reached for the next in the stack. He opened to the title page and read. Startled, he read it again, out loud. "A Compilation of North American Surnames: New Choices for Brides and Infants. Benny?"

Ben looked up at him over the edge of The Revised Baby and Child Care. "Hmm?"

Ray returned to his place on the unoccupied side of the bed. "What are we going to call this baby? I mean, would it be a Fraser or a Vecchio or what? You and I have always gone by our own names, but now what? Do we pick one or the other, do we hyphenate and if so which name goes first, or do we pick something entirely different, or what?"

Ben laid down his book, inserting a bookmark with absentminded conscientiousness as he considered his answer. The only thing he could come up with was, "I have no idea, Ray." He stared at his partner with wide blue eyes, and Ray's green ones returned his gaze with equal blank surprise. In over a year of preparation for this child, they had never once touched on the subject of names. "I suppose if it's a boy, we could give him a first name from one side and a last name from the other."

"You mean like Benton Vecchio or Raymond Fraser? I dunno, Benny, I never really liked the idea of naming a kid after his father. Sorta gives him no identity of his own."

"Well, it doesn't necessarily have to be one of our names, Ray. It could be any name that has a history in the family."

"Then it'd have to be somethin' Fraser, because no way am I having a son named Tiberius Vecchio or whatever. What is it with your family not being able to pick out a decent first name? You remember when we first met and I didn't think you even had one?"

"I remember, Ray." Ben smiled fondly at him. "You teased me about not having a first name, and then you gave me one."

"Benny." Ray's finger traced the line of Ben's cheek, coming to rest in the dimple at the corner of Ben's mouth. Then he kissed him, a warm kiss filled with long years of love and affection. When it ended, he rested his head in the curve of smooth neck and firm shoulder and they were both silent, content for a moment simply to be together. After a while, he spoke again. "So what if it's a girl?"

"I don't know, Ray. I barely knew my mother, and your sister has already named her daughter after Sofia. Perhaps we should find a book of names?"

"Yeah, I guess. But what about the last name?"

Ben rubbed his eyebrow with the hand that was not moving slowly up and down Ray's back. "Traditionally, in most Western cultures at least, which of course includes the United States and Canada, a child is given the surname of the father. Now, as we are both male, technically we are both fathers, so this particular tradition is not really applicable to our situation. Although, since I am carrying the child, I suppose that one could say that I am, in a sense, the 'mother,' which would mean that you are, by extension, the 'father.' In that case, tradition would dictate that our child would be a Vecchio."

"Yeah, but you're doing all the work, so it's only fair that it should be Fraser. Besides, there's already a new generation of Vecchios, since Frannie's kids all have her name. You're the only Fraser left."

"We could hyphenate. Or one name could be used as a surname and the other as a middle name. Something Fraser Vecchio."

"Or Something Vecchio Fraser."

"Either way."

"Good, that's settled. Vecchio Fraser it is."

"Ray..."

"I'm serious, Benny. It's gotta be one way or the other. If it makes you feel better, you can think of it as putting my name first."

Ben resigned himself to the inevitable with a smile. "All right, Ray."

Satisfied, Ray switched off the lamp, settled himself against Ben and traced his fingers up and down the broad chest. The blue eyes drifted closed with a small sigh of enjoyment and the green followed. They were both nearly asleep when one of Ray's caresses encountered a nipple. Ben jumped slightly and shifted away with a small grimace. Ray raised his head.

"Benny?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Ray." He paused, and his blush was hidden by the darkness. "It's just a bit... sensitive."

"Oh." Ray digested this piece of information. "How sensitive?"

"I don't know, Ray. They're just... sensitive. They have been for a few days, actually. I've read about this; it's a perfectly natural occurrence. There have been a number of studies done, dating back approximately to the 1950's, in which male volunteers were given estrogen as a treatment for--"

He was interrupted by a soft snore. Cracking a grin, he dropped a kiss on Ray's forehead, draped his free arm about the slim waist, and settled in to sleep.

 ~~~November 22, 2003~~~

"Everything seems to be perfectly fine." Dr. Young looked up from her position stooped over Ben's abdomen, straightened her back slowly, and removed the stethoscope from her ears. "The baby's heartbeat is strong, your hormone levels are right on target..." With mock formality she pronounced, "Mr. Fraser, I'd say your pregnancy is coming along precisely on schedule."

Both men smiled at that. Ray pushed himself away from the wall where he'd been leaning. "Hey, Doc, there's something we've been meaning to ask you. Benny's doing fine, and we haven't seen the family in almost five months. We were wondering if it's OK to go back to Chicago for the holidays. I mean, we understand if you say no, because the university has a stake in this and maybe you need us to stick around where you can keep an eye on Benny for the research aspect and all that, but--"

"Ray." Dr. Young interrupted him with a smile and her hand on his arm. "It's fine. You can go."

"Really?"

"Sure. You're in the second trimester. You're past morning sickness and most of the possible complications would have occurred by now if they were going to. And it should still be a few months before weight gain becomes significant enough to cause any problems. Most of my patients describe this period as the perfect existence. Provided you keep up on your medication and make it back in time for your regular checkup, I see no reason why you shouldn't spend Christmas with your family." She smiled at two beaming faces. "You'll be flying, I take it?"

The two men turned from their happy contemplation of each other, and Ben answered.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you suffer from airsickness?"

"Not usually."

She caught Ben's faintly puzzled expression and explained. "Some over-the-counter medications could interact with your other meds and affect the baby. If you needed something to travel, I would have had to write you a special prescription."

"Ah. Thank you kindly, but that won't be necessary."

"All right. Well, as I said, you and the baby are both doing just fine. Let me know your final travel plans and we'll arrange to check you out before you go and give you the green light. You have my number; you can call me or the university if you have any trouble. And I'll get you a number in case you need to see a doctor while you're away; I have a friend at one of the hospitals in Chicago. We were in med school together and I used to talk to him about my ideas on same-gender reproduction. I know he'll take good care of you, and we can count on him to be... ah, discreet about the details of your condition."

That got a smile, and a slight blush from Ben. "Thanks, Doc," said Ray, slinging his coat over one arm and reaching out a hand for their customary parting shake. Ben hopped off the table and followed suit.

"See you in two weeks, guys."

*****

"So, Benny," Ray asked as they drove back to the apartment, "It's Saturday, you're in perfect health, not that that's news, the baby's doing great, which is great news, we wrapped up the Manelli case on the computer last night, and we have the whole afternoon ahead of us. What do you wanna do? I hear there's a new movie showing downtown."

Ben smiled dreamily. "How about a walk? There's a beautiful woods near the nursing home where I volunteer."

"You're gonna drag me on a hike in the middle of November?"

"Ray, we're in Georgia. This is hardly a Yukon winter, or even a Chicago winter, for that matter."

"It's still cold out."

"Ray, it is fifty-eight degrees Fahrenheit! Besides, you'll warm up as we walk."

"Oh, all right. Do you know how to get to the nursing home from here? I've only been there that one time, remember, and that was coming from the other direction."

"Of course. Just take a right at the next street, go straight until you cross the bridge, and it's on your left."

Ray did so, and in a few minutes they were pulling into a parking lot between a cozy-looking white building and a stand of tall, mostly bare grey trunks. "Come on, Ray."

Ray climbed out of the car, wrapped his overcoat a little more tightly against the cool breeze, and followed the flannel-clad back disappearing up what appeared to be a precipitously steep hillside covered in about six inches of fallen leaves and entirely devoid of anything even remotely resembling a path. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Ray began the struggle upward. "Hey, Benny, wait up!" After several slips and one near-fall, he reached a stretch of more level ground where he found Ben waiting for him.

Slipping a hand easily into his beloved's, Ben led him through the trees, keeping up a steady commentary. "Look how blue the sky is today, Ray. And look at the way the branches interlace against it. Isn't it beautiful?" Ray glanced at him with a quizzical half-smile, but said nothing. Ben's face wore the same happy, dreamy glow it had had ever since they had left the doctor's office. Stooping, he picked up a fallen leaf nearly as long as his arm and held it up for Ray to admire. "Magnolia macrophylla," he pronounced. "One of the oldest genera of trees in existence. You know, Ray, the forests here are quite interesting. The climax forest is primarily made up of oak and hickory, but there is also a rich understory with literally dozens of species. It is far different from where I grew up, where the trees were predominantly pine and spruce..."

Ray listened more to the joy that suffused the warm voice than to the ecological lecture it was delivering. They wandered slowly until they came to a small waterfall, next to which Ben crouched to investigate a patch of low, squashy-looking green growth and described, with unflagging enthusiasm, the reproductive habits of the common liverwort. Unable to hold it in any longer, Ray began to laugh. Ben halted in mid-lecture, puzzled.

"Ray? What's so funny?"

With a grin both tender and amused, Ray answered "I just love you, Benny."

"And you find that amusing?"

"Nah. It's just... being here with you, listening to you talk about warty livers..."

"Liverworts. W-o-r-t. From the Old English, meaning--" he was cut off as Ray's lips pressed against his, then pulled back just enough so that they could look into each other's eyes.

"I know, Benny," Ray said softly, and held his gaze with a smile until Ben found himself returning it. Then they were kissing again, and all was right with the world.

 ~~~December 22, 2003~~~

"You realize we've been away from Chicago for over six months? Must be some kind of Vecchio family record. I don't think we've moved more than a couple of blocks since my grandparents came over back in the fifties."

They were about half an hour into the flight from Atlanta to O'Hare, and Ray seemed even more agitated than was usual for him on airplanes. Realizing that his partner was simply nervous over seeing his family again, Ben paid little mind to the constant stream of words. After a polite "Hmm," he continued leafing through his issue of Modern Parenting.

"Do you think it'll be any different than when we left? I mean, six months isn't a very long time, but I knew this guy when I was growing up who ran away from home and he was only gone for five months and when he came back his sister was married and his dad had had a heart attack and his mom and his little brother had moved into an apartment across town. Do you think it'll be like that for us? That different, I mean, of course it wouldn't be just like that since your dad's been dead for almost ten years and mine's been for what, fifteen or something, and both my sisters are married already and you couldn't get any of 'em out of that house if you burned it down around 'em. But it could be something else, y'know? Maybe we'll get back and find out that they've totally rearranged the Precinct or something or maybe--"

"Ray." Ben laid down his magazine as Ray turned to face him with a wide and rather dazed-looking stare. "Your mother writes us once a week, Francesca send us email almost every day, and you correspond with various members of the police force through your work. If anything had changed drastically, I'm certain we would have been informed."

Ray shook himself slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." He turned to stare glassily out the window and drum his fingers on the tray table that held his untouched plastic cup of Coke. After a minute, Ben interrupted him again.

"Ray. Ray." Ben touched his partner on the arm. "Ray."

"Hmm?"

With a faint smile, Ben looked pointedly at Ray's hand. Ray followed his gaze, and abruptly stopped drumming and stuffed the offending hand between his knees. "Sorry." Then, just as abruptly, he shifted position, crossing his arms firmly and scrunching down in his seat. "Wake me up when we get to Chicago."

"Ray." Ray opened one eye and regarded him silently. "The seats recline."

"Oh." Ray's fingers scrabbled for the lever, found it, and he tilted the seat back several degrees before closing his eyes again. "Thanks, Benny."

Ben once again turned his attention to his magazine, and silence reigned until the plane touched down on the runway at O'Hare.

 *****

"Ray! Benton! Over here!" Francesca hopped up and down and waved frantically across the terminal as she spotted the two men coming through the gate. With a broad Vecchio grin, Ray hurried to her as quickly as his enormous carry-on bag would allow and returned her hug and kiss with enthusiasm. Ben was only a few seconds behind, and accepted a warm sisterly embrace of his own. "C'mon, guys, let's grab your luggage and get outta here. Ma can't wait to see you and you won't believe what she's got cooked up. She's hardly been out of the kitchen the last three days. Won't let us touch anything either. It's been driving me nuts. Thank God you're finally here, maybe now she'll relax a little and we can breathe. How's it going, by the way? The, uh..." she gestured toward Ben's middle, not noticeably changed from when she had last seen it.

"Everything is going very well, Francesca. The doctor says that the baby is perfectly healthy and developing according to schedule," Ben replied with the glowing smile he seemed to be wearing a lot lately.

"That's great! Have you thought about names yet? I mean, do we even know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Ben and Ray exchanged a look. "We've decided we don't wanna know until it's born," Ray answered finally. "And we haven't really come up with any names. He's only at 17 weeks."

"Nineteen, Ray. Or to be precise, eighteen weeks and six days," Ben corrected with a dreamy smile.

Francesca laughed as Ray shook his head in feigned exasperation. "C'mon, Benny, there's our bags. Let's go home."

 *****

The welcome they received back at the Vecchio household was almost overwhelming after the comparative peace of their Atlanta apartment. Everyone had moved back in for the holidays and in celebration of Ben and Ray's visit, so the welcoming committee included Ray's mother, his two sisters and their respective husbands, eight children ranging in age from one and a half to sixteen, and a white mouse belonging to Francesca's daughter Rosie which Ben was repeatedly asked to admire. All was noise and ebullience and high spirits, and Ben suddenly realized that he had missed it while they had been away. Even when the children had long since collapsed, tired and happy, in a tangle of cushions and sleeping bags on the living room floor, the adults sat up sharing six months' worth of stories and jokes over mugs of hot cider in the kitchen. It was well after three in the morning when the two finally curled up together in the bedroom that had once been Ray's. It had belonged for six years to Maria's eldest son Tino, but he had vacated it in honor of the occasion and with the aid of a few subtle hints about his Christmas stocking.

"It's good to be home, Benny." Ray sighed as he snuggled up to the man he loved.

Ben wrapped his arms around the slender body and kissed him goodnight. "Indeed it is, Ray."

 ~~~December 24, 2003~~~

The next two days were more of the same, filled with family and food and laughter and love and preparations for the holiday. On the morning of Christmas Eve, Ray, Ben, Tony, and Francesca's husband Matthew went to get the tree while the women helped the smaller children string popcorn and cranberries onto lengths of heavy white thread. The heaps of garlands grew steadily and the bowls were nearly empty when the front door burst open and Ray appeared amidst a flurry of snowflakes, bent beneath the trunk of an enormous fir tree.

"Hey, guys, come see what we got!" Ray shouted as the four wrestled the tree through the doorway, Ben guiding the prickly branches as Ray had expressly forbidden him to do any heavy lifting. There was a general exodus from kitchen, computer room, and various bedrooms as the original nine children and an additional four second-cousins responded to that magical summons. The range of expressions from pleasure to stark awe on the thirteen young faces that greeted the men made the heavy, sticky work of tree-hauling immediately and infinitely worthwhile. The tree was set up beside the fireplace and the base draped in white fabric, and then the younger generation was given free rein with the popcorn and berry strings. When the last string had been draped to perfection, the delightful discovery was made that the snow had finally "stuck" and the ground outside was covered in a soft, inch-deep carpet of white fluff. In a flurry of hats and mittens and jackets and scarves, everyone was outside and a grand free-for-all snowball fight was underway. Maria and fourteen-year-old Anna disappeared in the midst of the chaos and reappeared with a protesting Mrs. Vecchio. She finally consented to stay on the porch for a few minutes and watch the game. She was suddenly distracted by something cold and wet striking her leg and dribbling into her shoe. Looking down, she was confronted by an impish grin, and then the child was off like a shot. Forgetting her dignified grandmotherly status, she joined in the fray with a few amiable missiles of her own.

Eventually, the game settled down. One by one, adults and children retreated to the warmth of the house or drifted off to make snow angels or work on snowmen. When Mrs. Vecchio came to the door to call them in for Christmas Eve dinner, only four rosy faces, one of them Ben's, were left outside to answer the call.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, with carols to sing and stockings to hang, and ending in the traditional pomp and grandeur of Midnight Mass. When they returned, the children were quickly tucked away, distributed among several bedrooms this time so as to leave the living room free, and the adults turned to decorating. A CD of Christmas carols was put on, providing a soft background, and the boxes of lights and ornaments were brought out. The tree, pretty but plain in its modest garb of popcorn and cranberries, was transformed by the addition of shining balls, twinkling stars, and tiny framed photographs of every member of the family. String after string of multicolored lights added their sparkle, reflecting in the silver sheen of tinsel. Presiding over all was a beautiful antique Italian angel who had crossed the Atlantic in the bottom of Mrs. Vecchio's mother's steamer trunk, wrapped in a shawl. Gaily wrapped boxes were produced from hidden corners and closets to surround the tree, completely obscuring the snowy fabric that had been placed there. Finished at last, the seven workers sat down with glasses of fragrant eggnog to admire their handiwork. The embers of the dying fire silouhetted a long row of stockings, limp and shapeless only hours before but bulging now with the promise of good things for the morning to come. The firelight and the glow from the Christmas tree served as the room's only illumination, enough for those who relaxed there in contented holiday weariness. Slowly the eggnog was finished and people drifted off to bed; Mrs. Vecchio first, then Maria and Tony, and finally Francesca and Matthew.

Ben half-sat, half-lay at one end of the couch, and Ray stretched full-length upon it, his head resting on Ben's stomach. Ben watched Francesca's exit through half-closed eyelids, murmuring a sleepy goodnight. Ray did not respond at all, and Ben suspected that he was nearly asleep. He stroked the smooth cheek. "Ray."

"Mmm?"

"Let's go to bed."

"Mmm." Ray shifted slightly, resettling himself against Ben. "Sleep here."

"Now, Ray," Ben began, then suddenly fell silent. "Did you just move your head?"

"Hnnh? Nnm-mmm." Ray denied somnolently.

"I thought I felt... I suppose not." There was a pause. "There it is again."

"Mmm."

Suddenly, his weariness forgotten, Ben sat up, jolting Ray awake. "Ray!! The baby! I felt the baby move!"

Ray was sitting up, rubbing at his eyes and yawning, until what Ben was saying sank in. When it did, he came fully awake in an instant. "You felt it move? Really?"

Ben bit his lip and nodded, his eyes wide.

"Where?" Ray bent excitedly over Ben's abdomen.

Ben's fingers shook as he hurried to untuck his shirt and pull down the waistband of his slacks. He pressed Ray's hand to a spot just below and to the left of his navel. "Here."

Ray concentrated intently for a moment. "Wha'd it feel like?"

"Well, it was very faint, Ray. It was like... it was like being brushed by a snowflake, on the inside. It was wonderful, it was..." He shook himself.

"I think I feel something!" It was in reality far too early for Ray to actually feel the baby's movements, but that small fact somehow failed to matter.

Eventually they made it up to bed on that early Christmas morning, and fell asleep smiling with their joined hands resting on that magical spot where Ben had felt the universe move.

 ~~~December 25, 2003~~~

The family was awakened shortly after dawn by a seemingly endless flood of excited children dashing up stairs and down hallways, urging the grown-ups to hurry and see what Santa brought. They emerged from their rooms in various combinations of pajamas and robes, yawning and rubbing away sleep, but smiled indulgently at the small hands tugging them towards the tree. It wasn't long before the Christmas spirit caught on, and the little room that had been so carefully decorated the night before overflowed with wrapping paper and bows and carefully selected gifts and squeals of delight. Ben and Ray watched it all from the couch, where Ben was reclining against Ray's chest. Ray's chin rested on the top of Ben's head, and his arms held him in a loose embrace, his hands once more lying protectively on Ben's belly, covered by Ben's own. They had already received the best of all possible Chrismas gifts.

Present-opening was followed by a festive breakfast, which for most of the household was followed by a much-needed nap. Ray had this in mind as he followed Ben up the stairs to their bedroom, and was startled to see his partner taking his red serge uniform from the storage bag where it had hung for the past six months.

"Benny? Whatcha doin'?"

Ben turned. "Oh, hi, Ray. Just getting ready for the shelter Christmas party."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. But that's not until three... or did they move it up this year?"

"No, I just thought there was a chance that my uniform would need attention after having been in the closet for so long. It does need ironing."

"Why are you wearing the uniform anyway? You're not really being a Mountie while you're serving punch and passing out cookies." Ray sat on the bed and watched as the Mountie continued his inspection, searching for loose threads in his tunic and pants, scratches in the polish of his boots, cracks in the oiled leather of his belt.

"The children seem to respond to it, Ray. And the color is quite festive."

Ray smiled to himself. His Benny had been happy during the past six months, sometimes happier than Ray had ever seen him before, but something had been missing. The moment his hand had touched the red serge with its shiny brass buttons, that something came back in a rush. He was Benton Fraser, RCMP, once more. "Missed it, hmm?"

Ben looked up, startled, then smiled. "Very much so, yes. I hadn't realized."

Ray's smile was sympathetic. "C'mon. I'll get Ma to iron it for you."

"Thank you kindly, Ray, but... I'd rather do it myself."

"I'll ask to borrow the iron."

The ironing process took nearly an hour and was followed by a very thorough polishing of the already gleaming boots. Ray watched the proceedings with interest and more than a little amusement, reminded of the near-obsessive washing and waxing he had given each of his new Buick Rivieras just after he'd bought them. Ben had offered his help, but he'd refused and allowed no one else near his cars until he had them just the way he liked them. At last, the grooming process was completed, and Ben appeared satisfied with the result. It had made no discernable difference to the uniform as far as Ray was concerned, but he wisely kept this information to himself.

Ben laid the uniform lovingly on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom to shower and shave. He was back in record time, and as he picked up the regulation undershirt his valient effort not to grin like an idiot resulted in an expression that made Ray want to laugh and cry at the same time. He quickly excused himself to perform his own ablutions and gave Ben some privacy.

Ray returned to the bedroom to find a rather pink Mountie holding his breath as he attempted to buckle his belt. "Having some trouble, Benny?"

Ben whirled around at the sound of his voice and flushed a deeper pink. "The uniform still fits, but I can't... get my Sam Browne to its usual hole."

Ray stared, then suddenly laughed. Ben looked hurt for a moment, then slowly began to laugh as well. Stepping back, Ray inspected his partner's waistline critically from various angles. "You don't look any different."

Ben moved to examine himself in the mirror, and Ray followed, placing a hand on the red-clad shoulder and watching the reflections as the Mountie turned this way and that. "I think, Ray, that if you look you'll see that I have indeed, ah, grown slightly. Right here." He touched his lower abdomen lightly.

Ray squinted, then shook his head doubtfully. "I dunno, Benny."

"Of course I have, Ray. Wait." He quickly stripped down to his boxer shorts, then once more stood before the mirror. Turning so that he was reflected in profile, he said, "Look."

Obediently, Ray came up behind him and placed his head as close to Ben's as possible to see what he was seeing. And, just as he was about to give up in defeat, he saw it. A faint but unmistakeable roundness that had never been there before, a gentle curve to what had always been a perfectly flat plane.

He didn't say anything, but Ben was watching his face in the mirror and saw his expression change in an instant from skepticism to wonder. Smiling, he leaned back and dropped a swift kiss on Ray's cheek, then pulled away. Ray's hand fell limply from his shoulder as he bent to pick up his jodhpurs. The striped pants were fastened around Ben's waistfortunately they were designed to fit loosely, held up by suspendersbefore Ray recovered his voice.

"You're showing! But it's only five months!" He took Ben by the arms. Ben looked at him blandly, then continued dressing with pretended nonchalance.

"Well, Ray, it's only logical that I would begin to 'show' somewhat ahead of schedule. A woman's body is designed for pregnancy, and a certain amount of space is set aside to accommodate the growing child. A man's body, on the other hand, is arranged on a somewhat different principle, and any unusual bulk would make a greater, er, impact on the overall shape of the body in question. And in fact, many women begin to show at five months, some even earlier." His voice was matter-of-fact, and he continued to don his uniform efficiently, managing to keep his back toward Ray as he did so. This had the effect of throwing Ray back into shock, and he was about to say something about the inappropriateness of cold logic at a time like this when Ben suddenly turned around, revealing a radiant smile and eyes dancing with suppressed laughter.

"You're teasing me!" Ray's every feature bespoke outrage. "First the baby moves, and now you're showing, and you're teasing me! I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you!"

Ben still smiled, but his voice was serious as he answered. "I certainly hope you won't kill me. I remember what it was like to grow up with a single father, and I wouldn't want our child to have to live like that. Although I have every confidence that you would make a... a wonderful father."

"Oh, no, you're not getting outta diaper duty that easy. Guess I'll just have to kiss you then."

"Well, then, by all means."

There was silence in the room for several minutes after that, and then it was time to get ready to leave. It is doubtful whether any of the orphans at the party that afternoon noticed the stripe, visible for the first time in twenty-two years, where the leather between the second and third holes of Ben's belt had been worn shiny by the edge of its buckle. But Ben retained a pleasant consciousness of it, and of what it signified, and his smiles that day were just a little brighter, and lingered just a little longer, on account of it.

*****

There was one other person at the shelter who did notice the state of his uniform. As he was carrying a tray of dirty cups into the shelter's kitchen, he bumped into another figure in a red serge tunic coming through the door in the opposite direction. There was a flurry of brown hair, then a surprised voice.

"Constable Fraser!"

"Inspector?"

"I was told you were on sabbatical."

"I was... I mean, I am. Ray and I came back for the holidays. May I?" He indicated his tray, and she moved aside to let him pass, then followed him into the kitchen.

"Ray?" she asked, confused.

He spoke over his shoulder as he placed the cups one by one into the dishwasher. "Ray Vecchio. The detective."

"Oh, yes. I remember." She paused. "You... live together?"

"Mm-hm." Ben nodded.

Meg was silent for a moment while she absorbed this information. "Well. A lot can happen when you're gone for six years, can't it, Fraser?"

"Indeed, sir. Although Ray and I have been together for over seven years, actually. We had to keep our relationship... discreet, in the beginning." He paused, and when she did not respond, he changed the subject. "How have you found your posting in Ottawa?"

She answered gratefully, "I've liked it very much. It's been a good career move for me. I came back to Chicago on... business earlier this week, and we decided to stay for this party. Laura was only five when I adopted her, so she doesn't remember much about this place. She wanted to see it again, and I offered to help out. The nuns said they'd be happy to have us."

"They're often short-handed. I come every year."

"Ah." She nodded, and the conversation fell into an uncomfortable silence, filled only by the clinking of dishes as Ben finished loading the machine, then a click and a steady humming noise as it was turned on. Finally Ben rinsed his hands and dried them on the tattered dishtowel, then turned to face her, unconsciously standing at parade rest. Automatically she scanned his uniform, as though she was still his commanding officer and he was standing for inspection. Her eyes were caught by the worn place on his belt, and held there. A sharp reprimand was on the tip of her tongue when she caught herself and looked up at his face, blushing slightly. She noticed the faintly sheepish smile on Ben's face as she did so, but said nothing as he led the way back to the common room where the party was just breaking up.

Ben watched as one of the young girls detached herself from the crowd and wrapped her arms around Meg's waist, receiving a brief hug in return. The pair said their goodbyes to the nuns who ran the shelter, and at the door Meg turned and waved to Ben. The girlLaura, he assumedlooked up at her adoptive mother questioningly, and Meg bent and said something to her that Ben could not hear. After that, she too turned and gave him an enthusiastic wave and an unexpectedly beautiful smile, and then they were gone.

 ~~~December 27, 2003~~~

 Two days later, Ben received a telephone call at the Vecchio house. "Constable Fraser? This is Meg Thatcher. I thought I might find you there." She paused, then hurriedly continued. "I have a, uh, request to make of you. A favour, really. Do you have plans for Monday?"

"I don't believe so, sir. Is something wrong?"

"No... well, yes. You are undoubtedly wondering why I am still in Chicago instead of having returned home to Ottawa."

"The thought had crossed my--"

"Of course. Well, that reason would be... that... I have been temporarily reassigned to my consular duties here."

"I see. Well. Ah... welcome back. The consulate has not been the same place in your absence. I fail to see where I come in, however."

"I find that I am somewhat understaffed. Apparently Constable Wade is not expected to return until after New Year's, and Constable Baker contracted giardia while ice fishing in a beaver pond during his vacation, which will prevent his reporting to work on schedule. On Monday afternoon we will be receiving a visit from the Afghani ambassador, and I would be most... appreciative if you would be willing to fill in. I understand that you are on sabbatical, of course, and you would be compensated appropriately..."

"I would be happy to, sir."

"You would? That's wonderful! I mean, thank you, Fraser. I'll see you Monday at nine, then?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be there."

"Right. Until Monday, then."

 "Goodbye, sir."

 ~~~December 29, 2003~~~

Monday morning came, and Ben arrived at the consulate at precisely 8:50 AM. He had spent most of the previous evening working on his belt, and as a result it shone with a gloss that would have struck any cleanser salesman who happened to come by the consulate dumb with wonder. However, try as he might, he'd been unable to erase the shallow crease between the second and third holes. As he knocked on the door to the Chief Liason Officer's suite, he crossed his fingers and silently prayed that the Inspector would not question him about it.

Luck seemed to be with him. Meg Thatcher scarcely looked up as he entered the room and stood at attention before her desk, carefully positioning himself so that a convenient poinsettia stood between her and his midsection. She finished her typing, then turned to him.

"Ah, Constable. I want to thank you again for coming in like this. You will find the necessary papers on your old desk; I would like those filled out and returned to me by eleven o'clock sharp. After that, the lobby and reception room need to be dusted and put in order for the arrival of the ambassador and his party at two. The state they are in now is truly disgraceful; I can't imagine what Inspector Carter was thinking. If you finish early, there are other things you can assist me with. You can take your usual half hour break for lunch. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Relieved, he turned and headed for the door at a dignified walk that was dangerously close to a sprint.

It was not quite eleven o'clock when he was caught. Having finished the thick stack of forms and protocol sheets he had been assigned, Ben returned to his superior's office, reflecting briefly that technically she was no longer his superior at all. The high-profile cases he'd solved since coming to Chicago had earned him promotions in rapid succession, and he had taken over the post of Chief Liason Officer less than a year after she had resigned it. He had been running the consulate himself before leaving on sabbatical that summer. Carter had been a temp, hired to fill in for him. Thatcher couldn't be expected to know that, however, and he certainly wasn't going to tell her.

He carried the papers in front of him until he reached 'his' poinsettia, then held them out to her. She took them, standing up as she did so. He did a quick sidestep, but it was too late. She had once again spotted his belt, and this time she felt within her rights to call him on it.

"Constable."

"Sir?"

"I trust you have a reasonable explanation for the disgraceful state of your uniform?"

He feigned innocence, hoping to stall for time. "My uniform, sir?"

"Your uniform, Constable. Specifically, your belt."

Ben studied the floor and shuffled his feet slightly. "My belt. Ah... yes, sir. I seem to have... ah... gained some weight, sir."

"And you were unable to locate a belt that fit properly?"

"Well, sir, you see, this is rather a recent development, and one which I expect will rectify itself by the time I am scheduled to return to active duty. I would hardly feel justified in requisitioning another belt for this one assignment, sir."

"Rectify itself? Maintaining a proper weight just takes a little discipline. You're obviously not pregnant, Constable, and there is no other excuse for allowing oneself to get into this condition, even on vacation. Unless you can lose the weight by two o'clock, I suggest you go to the supply closet and borrow a larger belt. I expect you to be presentable for our guests."

"Yes, sir," he answered stiffly. "And then shall I see to the lobby and reception room, sir?"

"Yes, Constable. A little physical activity will be just the thing for your, ah, condition. Dismissed."

"Sir--"

"Dismissed, Constable."

"Respectfully, sir, it's Inspector, Inspector. And physical exertion is contraindicated for my condition." He turned smartly and walked out the door. She stared after him, the additional stripes on his sleeve and the slant of the offending belt finally registering. Even after he had turned the corner, their afterimage remained, as though burned into her retinas.

Ben cleaned the two rooms with an angry efficiency. When he had finished, he straightened the Deputy Liason's office, reorganized the filing cabinets, and alphabetized the contents of the medicine cabinet by active ingredient. He passed the time in arguing with himself, trying to talk himself out of his anger. Inspector Thatcher was probably under a great deal of stress, he thought. She had never liked Chicago, and he could only assume that her reposting here was a form of punishment, as his own had been so long ago, or perhaps she was escaping further personal problems in Ottawa. She was obviously uncomfortable with her transfer, since she had lied about it at their first meeting. Undoubtedly her domineering and condescendinghe mentally reprimanded himself for using such loaded termsattitude towards him was an attempt at regaining a sense of control over her life, and he should have simply accepted it, let her give him orders if it helped her. It didn't hurt him, and it was only for a day.

But she insulted your child, insisted the rebellious part of his mind. Your child and Ray's.

"No, she didn't. There was no way she could have known about the pregnancy. As far as Inspector Thatcher was aware, I had simply allowed myself to become overweight through laziness or inappropriate diet, and if that had been the case she would have been right to reprimand me for it." Acetominophen. Aloe. Bacitracin. Capsaicin.

You could have had some other medical condition.

"Yes, but that is not the point. 'When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.' She was making the most logical assumption." Cimetidine. Dextromethorphan. Diphenhydramine hydrochloride.

And why did she notice your belt and completely overlook your rank?

"She is an Inspector. It is her duty to ensure that the uniforms of those under her command are maintained in accordance with RCMP standards. It is not her duty to inspect the number of stripes on the sleeves of said uniforms. The change in direction of my shoulder strap may not have registered, as it would be consistent with that of the uniforms she would see regularly at headquarters." Kaopectate. Ketoprofin. Lidocaine. Menthol. Neosporin. Pectin. Petroleum.

You noticed her rank.

"Which is another reason she may not have noticed mine. Her rank is the same as it was when she left; it may not have occurred to her that mine would not be." Polymyxin B Sulfate. Pseudoephedrine. Salicylic acid. Saline. Sodium bismuthate.

Sour grapes.

"Now, that is simply inexcusable. Inspector Thatcher is a dedicated and hardworking officer. Only a small percentage of officers can expect to progress beyond the level of Inspector. She was completely within her rights, and I ought to apologize." Zinc glutonate. He closed the door of the medicine cabinet with a snap and left the bathroom.

His knock was quickly answered with a polite "Come in." He entered the office, to find Inspector Thatcher standing at attention behind her desk. Before he could say anything, she spoke.

"Inspector Fraser. I want to apologize for what I said to you earlier. I should have checked your current rank and assignment before addressing you as a subordinate. I can't imagine why I was not informed at the time I was told of your sabbatical. Still, if I had been paying proper attention, I would have noticed the change in your uniform. I have been remiss in my duties. I'm sorry, Fraser."

"Oh, no, sir. No apologies necessary. In fact, I ought to apologise for my tone when I left earlier. You were quite right about my belt."

"I noticed you had changed it. Thank you, Fraser. Now please, sit down. You say you have some kind of condition that doesn't allow you to exercise?"

Ben sat, and so did Meg. "Yes, sir. Normal activity is fine, but the doctor says I'm not to perform any strenuous exercise until after... for the next several months."

"You must find that very difficult."

Ben blushed slightly. "Yes, sir. Ray has threatened more than once to tie me to the bed if I don't stop 'trying to save the world,' as he puts it." Suddenly realizing what he had just said, he looked up quickly, but she did not seem unduly disturbed by his statement. Evidently she had made her peace with their relationship over the past four days.

"What exactly is your condition?" Her voice reflected only gentle concern.

"I'd rather not say, sir." She may have been comfortable with the idea of his being involved with another man, but he was reasonably sure that the knowledge that he was pregnant with that man's baby would cause her to rupture something.

Meg appeared slightly rebuffed. "Well, that's your business, of course, Fraser. I hope it's nothing life-threatening?"

"Oh, no, sir. Quite the opposite, in fact. I feel wonderful."

"You are looking extremely well. Your vacation seems to have done you some good. Have you been spending it up North?"

"Atlanta, actually, sir."

"Atlanta?"

"Georgia, sir."

"I'm familiar with the city, ConstableI mean, Inspector. Fraser. It just seems like an odd place for a man of your background to spend his vacation."

"I must admit that it's not exactly the sort of environment I'm used to. It was nearly Christmas when we left, and the garden in front of the clinic was still blooming. It makes even the Chicago winter seem--"

"Clinic? You go regularly, then?"

"Every other Saturday."

"For how long?"

"About four more months. And then we're supposed to return for checkups once a year, though we'll be living in Chicago for the rest of the time."

She was clearly baffled, but did not press the point any further. "You'll be returning to work at the Consulate, then? I assume you've been running it since your promotion."

Ben smiled modestly. "Yes, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it, CFraser. Then there's hope that I won't be stuck here."

"Sir?"

"I know you've made a home for yourself here, Fraser, but I haven't. I belong in Ottawa, especially now that I have Laura to think of. We have a life there."

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, why are you here?"

"It's a long story. I found myself in an uncomfortable situation as regards my superior officer, and I needed a way out. When I heard that this position was open, I volunteered for the job. I didn't check to see if it came with a time limit, and once I got here I was afraid I'd have a hard time getting back. Another resignation would not look good on my record. As it is, by the time you return, he will have most likely moved on, and I will be able to resume my old position."

"Ah. Well. Best of luck to you, sir."

"And to you, Fraser. I hope you're recovered soon."

"Thank you kindly, sir."

"Call me Meg. I'm not really your superior officer anymore."

"If you don't mind, sir, I would prefer not to. You are still my superior officer in position at the moment, if not in rank."

If he was not mistaken, Meg looked somewhat relieved at this. The silence had just begun to grow uncomfortable when it was broken by the sound of the consulate door opening and closing, followed by Ray's voice calling out in the lobby. Ben stood up quickly. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll be going to lunch. The rooms are ready for the reception this afternoon, and I will be back by one o'clock to help with any final preparations."

"Dismissed, Fraser. And Fraser," Ben had already turned to go, and he turned back to face her. "Take as long as you need for lunch."

"Thank you, sir."

Ben had just reached the office door when it swung open and Ray entered with a large paper bag from which appetizing-smelling steam was rising. "Hey, Inspector." He reached for the Mountie, but Ben turned his head abruptly so that the kiss landed on his cheek. He stepped back slightly, a question on his face, and Ben flicked his eyes warningly at the desk. Ray glanced over. "Oh, sorry. Inspectors. Good to see you again, ma'am. Benny mentioned you were back."

"I wish I could say it was good to be back, Detective."

"Homesick, huh?" He turned to Ben, who met his eyes briefly. "Hey, you have lunch yet? Ma always packs enough for five or six people."

Meg hesitated. The pair looked so comfortable together, and she didn't want to intrude. Ben's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Please, Inspector. We'd be honored to have you join us."

"Do you have enough for Laura, too?"

"Is your daughter here?" Ben asked, surprised.

"She's upstairs, reading. She was down about an hour ago, but I suppose you were busy then."

"She's very quiet." After nine years of Vecchio children, the idea that an eleven-year-old could be in a building for three and a half hours without making a single noise loud enough to be heard in a different room shocked Ben.

"Laura has been coming to work with me for years. I've never liked the idea of day care. She knows how to amuse herself without disturbing anyone."

Ben and Ray blinked at each other. Ray recovered first. "Uh, sure. Like I said, we've got plenty of food. Why don't you go call her and Benny and I'll go set this stuff out in the dining room?"

En route through the hall, Ray muttered to Ben, "The Dragon Lady as a mom. This I gotta see."

"Now, Ray. I saw Laura at the shelter's Christmas party, and she seemed to me like a normal, healthy, happy child. She and Inspector Thatcher seemed quite close."

"Hmph."

Lunch with Meg and Laura was interesting, to say the least. While carrying on a polite, if not exactly stimulating, conversation about the events of the last six years, both Ben and Ray managed to covertly watch the child as she ate. Laura sat perfectly straight in her chair, napkin in her lap, and did not touch her food until after her mother began eating. She held her knife and fork in precise accordance with international diplomatic standards, though her small hands made this something of a challenge, and rested her left hand in her lap when she was not using it. When someone asked her a question, she answered clearly and completely, but was otherwise silent. She finished her lasagna, crossed her fork and knife neatly at the top of her plate, and sat with her hands folded in her lap. She started to swing her legs once, but quickly stilled them and looked worriedly about her to see if anyone had noticed. Ray had, and threw her a mock glare, then smiled and winked at her. She blushed and returned the smile shyly.

After a few minutes, Meg noticed that her daughter had finished. "You may be excused, Laura."

The two men had an eerie feeling that they were watching a porcelain doll come to life as Laura hopped out of her chair, stood on tiptoe to kiss her mother on the cheek, and skipped out of the room. The three adults watched her go.

"I can't believe how fast she's growing up," Meg said, half to herself. "They say you never notice how fast time moves until you have children."

"She comes to a lot of formal events with you, doesn't she?" Ray asked.

"She comes almost everywhere with me, Detective. I... never spent a great deal of time with my parents, and I don't want to do the same thing to Laura."

Ben's face mirrored his own lonely upbringing. "She's very lucky to have you."

"She's a gift. You don't know what you're missing, Fraser."

Ben looked at Ray, who returned the glance with one of caution. He plunged ahead anyway. "Actually, Inspector, Ray and I are starting a family of our own."

Meg's voice registered surprise and pleasure. "Oh, you two are adopting?"

"N--" Ben began, then suddenly broke off and gingerly rubbed his ankle where Ray's foot had connected with it.

"That's right," Ray picked up smoothly. "In fact, that's one of the major reasons Benny and I took this year off. There were a lot of details that needed to be worked out."

"I imagine Inspector Fraser's illness complicated matters."

There was a startled silence, during which Ray shot a look that was half worry, half incredulity at Ben. Then, "I, ah... as I mentioned earlier, ma'am, my, ah, condition is not particularly serious, and could not be considered to hinder the, ah, process. In addition to which, I expect I will be back to normal by the time the child is born."

"Born? Oh, you're doing a surrogate pregnancy?" Meg's face, which had been developing increasing lines of puzzlement, suddenly cleared.

"In a manner of speaking, sir."

"Is one of you the father?"

"He is," they answered in unison. "I mean, I am. We both are." Confusion reigned supreme as the two men tried to find agreement and Meg stared at them both.

Finally Ray explained. "We think of the baby as being both of ours, no matter who the father is. We actually don't know." That at least was true, he reflected.

"You don't know? Oh, you mean a mixed sample?"

"You could say that," he answered. Ben just looked relieved.

"Well... I'm sure I don't really need details. I hope it goes well. When is the baby due?"

"Around Eastertime, possibly later, depending on a number of factors," Ben answered.

"I certainly hope you'll let me know when she's born. Oh, do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Ben shook his head. "We decided to wait for the traditional 'big moment,'" said Ray, casually taking Ben's hand.

A peculiar expression that was a bittersweet mixture of longing, envy, genuine pleasure at their happiness, and something almost like regret crossed Meg's face at the simple gesture, quickly hidden as she busied herself with clearing the table. "Well," she said briskly, "Congratulations, Detective, Fraser. And now, if you'll excuse us, Detective, Inspector Fraser and I have work to do before the ambassador arrives. Thank you very much for lunch. It was delicious."

Ray grinned. "I'll tell Ma." He picked up the paper sack she had repacked with the empty containers and turned to Ben. "Pick you up at six, right?"

Ben nodded. "I'll walk you out." They walked together to the front door of the Consulate, where Ben held the bag as Ray pulled on his overcoat and handed him his wool cap and scarf. As Ray reclaimed the bag, Ben reached out and adjusted his cap slightly, the gesture easily melting into a caress as he pulled his partner into a warm goodbye kiss.

Meg watched them, unseen, with the same bittersweet smile. By the time the heavy wooden door closed against the fat white snowflakes that were once again falling outside and Ben turned back towards her and the work ahead, she was out of sight.

 *****

"You know, Benny," Ray said as they were undressing for bed that night, "you really need to be a little more discreet about this. I know how you feelI mean, personally I'd like to shout it from the rooftops, but we do that and our family's going to become some big media circus."

"I understand, Ray, but I'm sure Inspector Thatcher would be discreet. She often has to be, as an officer of the RCMP. And once she had recovered from her initial surprise, she seemed to be sincerely happy for us. I admit I had my doubts at first, but--"

"I know, Benny," Ray interrupted, placing a hand on Ben's shoulder. "There are a lot of people we could tell, and most of them would be happy for us, and it would probably be OK. But it only takes one mistake, one time telling the wrong person, or the right person on the wrong day, and that person tells somebody else and it's all over the place before we know it, and maybe somebody doesn't like it and decides to do something about it. We took that chance coming out, but back then we just had the two of us to worry about. It's not just us anymore," he finished, touching Ben's stomach gently with his other hand.

Ben turned away quickly and resumed hanging up his uniform. "I'm sorry, Ray. I guess I just wasn't thinking," he said over his shoulder. His voice sounded strange, and Ray glimpsed the brief flash of a tear as it caught the lamplight.

He was stunned. Benton Fraser was crying? In all the years of their relationship and the close friendship that had preceded it, he could count on one hand the number of times he had seen those blue eyes clouded by tears. This was the first time he had ever seen them fall. "Benny?"

Ben kept his back to him, facing out into the shadows of the winter street. He pulled away from Ray's touch at first, but an arm snaked its way insistently around his ever-so-slightly expanded waist. "I'm fine." He wiped at his eyes almost violently, struggling for control. He laughed weakly, self-mockingly, as the tears continued to flow. "I'm sorry. I don't know why..."

"Shh. It's OK." Ray pulled the dark head down to rest on his shoulder and this time met with little resistance. "It's the hormones, Benny. You've got all sorts of chemicals inside you that make you react in ways you wouldn't usually. It's OK. You shoulda seen Maria when she was pregnant with Tino. One minute she'd be laughin, the next minute she'd be cryin' her eyes out over the tiniest little thing. You gotta expect that. It's normal."

They stood like that in the window for a little while longer, with the moonlight from above and its reflection from the snow below creating a weird shadowless glow. After a few minutes, Ben straightened and wiped his eyes. "Thank you, Ray," he said, his voice still slightly husky. He touched Ray's shoulder gently, flushing guiltily when his hand came away damp. "I'm sorry."

"Aw, it's nothing. Good thing I hadn't put on my pajama top yet, huh?" That won him a smile, and he extricated himself from their loose embrace and crossed to the bed. Rubbing the tears into his skin, he pulled on an oversized jacket of dark green silk. Noticing that his partner was still standing by the window, he left it unbuttoned. Coming up behind him, he wrapped his arms around Ben's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. "Whatcha thinking, Benny?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing, really. It's just that... I've been overreacting to things all day. At first, when Inspector Thatcher reprimanded me for gaining weight, and I became angry and spoke to her sharply when I--"

"Hold on a second. She did what?"

"She noticed that my belt was worn where I had been unable to tighten it as far as I used to, and she reprimanded me for it. She was quite right, Ray. I should never have worn a belt that I knew did not fit properly."

"Benny..."

"The point, Ray, is that instead of accepting her rebuke as I ought to and simply changing my belt, I allowed myself to feel personally insulted by it and responded in a manner unbecoming--"

"Benny, that is personal. It doesn't get much more personal than telling somebody how much they should weigh. You shoulda told her it was none of her business and butt out."

"I did."

"Really?" Ray was incredulous.

"Well, not in so many words, of course. But I should think that the message was clear enough. I was really quite inexcusably rude."

Ray chuckled, having a pretty good idea of what Benny being 'inexcusably rude' probably entailed. "Here I've been trying to get you to stick up for yourself for nine years and this kid comes along and does it in five months. Way to go, Benny."

"But, Ray, I really ought not--" 

"Hey, Benny, it's OK. You apologized afterwards, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"Then you're OK. Everybody has a bad day every once in a while. I'm sure the Inspector understands. I mean, how many times has she been rude to you?"

"I don't actually keep count, Ray."

"Exactly. If you don't hold it against her, why hold it against yourself?"

"I don't know, Ray, I just... it's..." he floundered helplessly, unable to find the words for what he was trying to say. He realized he didn't even really know what he wanted to say.

Ray kissed the cheek beside his own. "Don't worry about it, Benny. Come to bed." He led an unresisting Mountie from the window. "This whole pregnancy thing might be good for you. For more reasons than the obvious, I mean."

Ben smiled doubtfully as he pulled up the blankets. "Maybe."

 *****

A few miles away, in an apartment whose large Christmas tree was surrounded by cardboard boxes not yet completely unpacked, Meg Thatcher lay awake. She had gone to bed soon after tucking Laura in, but had been unable to sleep. Her mind kept travelling back to the day she had just spent at the Consulate. Constable Fraser was no longer the shy, solitary, young man homesick for the Arctic with whom she had once considered a relationship. He was now Inspector Fraser, apparently in a committed homosexual relationship with a Chicago cop, and adopting a baby with him. And mysteriously ill... she wondered what was wrong with him. He was not supposed to exercise, which probably meant that either his heart was weak or he had injured one of his legs in some way. But surely if he had had some sort of heart defect it would have been detected long before this... and given his lifestyle, Fraser was the last person she would have expected to suffer from what was essentially a hypokinetic disorder. An injury, then? That would account for his expectation that it would heal itself in time, but she had not noticed any kind of a cast or brace, and he walked with no trace of a limp. Besides, he expected his recovery to last for four more months, and it must have taken quite some time for him to gain that much weight. A little too long for most fractures to heal. Also, why would he have to go to a clinic every other week, and then return every year? No, she would have to rule out injury.

What, then? She cast her mind back, trying to remember every time she had seen Fraser that day. He had seemed a bit more temperamental than she remembered, but it had been six years since they had last worked together. Possibly her memory was faulty; he was still without a doubt the politest man she had ever known. He had eaten somewhat more than she'd expected at lunch... she remembered thinking then that it was no wonder he was gaining weight. Ray hadn't seemed disturbed by it, though; in fact, he'd encouraged it, offering him more even before he had finished what was on his plate. Hardly behavior one would expect towards someone who was intending to bring his weight back down once his illness was cured. It was maddening, really. What could possibly be wrong with the man?

Suddenly another image flashed into her mind. At one point during the afternoon, she'd been entertaining the Ambassador and his two companions, and had glanced across the room to see Fraser deep in conversation with the ambassador's wife, whom she estimated to be about seven months pregnant. The thought had crossed her mind that the two looked very much alike, but was quickly forgotten as she turned back to her duties as a hostess. Now she remembered, and wondered where the similarity had been. The young woman was tiny compared to Fraser's six feet and broad shoulders, and her brown skin and flowing black dress contrasted completely with Fraser's light complexion and stiff red serge. Their features showed clearly that their ancestry had diverged thousands of years ago and probably not touched since. And yet... she replayed the scene again in her mind.

Then it struck her: the likeness was one of action and expression, not appearance. The two faces, so different outwardly, were lit by the same inner glow, the same vibrancy that spoke of health and deep happiness. And that gesturethe way the woman had laid her hand over her protruding belly in an unconscious caress... she had seen Fraser do it at least twice that day. But he couldn't... could he? If there was anyone she knew who could be counted on to get himself into a bizarre situation...

Abruptly she shook herself. "What am I thinking?" she said aloud into the darkness. Fraser couldn't be pregnant; the thing was absurd, was impossible. Now, what could mimic the symptoms of pregnancy? Flipping back the blankets and pulling on a robe, she padded across the bedroom to her desk, where she removed several boxes from the chair. Switching her computer on and settling in with a sigh, Meg began her research.

 ~~~January 3, 2004~~~

"Hey, guys! Welcome back." Dr. Young greeted the two men warmly as they entered the familiar examination room. "How was Chicago?"

"Wonderful!" Ben was in one of his 'glowing' moods, and the effect was somewhere between beautiful and comical. "But it's wonderful to be back, too," he added, beaming, as he lifted himself onto the table and lay back blissfully.

Ray grinned and shook his head as he hung up his overcoat. "It was cold," he commented. "Don't you guys have a winter at all down here?"

"Sure we do. You guys got in yesterday afternoon, right? You probably just missed it by a couple of hours." She turned back to Ben, suppressing a laugh and settling for a twinkling smile as she took in his beatific air. "So, I take it the second trimester is agreeing with you?"

Ben agreed cheerfully. "Oh, it's wonderful. I felt the baby move twice while we were away, and I've gained 3.4 kilograms over my normal body weight, and I just feel... wonderful." He lapsed into silence, but his eyes spoke eloquently of the sheer joy coursing through his body. After a moment he spoke again. "Aren't you going to examine me?"

Dr. Young responded with amused understanding. "You have to change into the hospital gown."

Ben glanced down at himself, startled. "Oh!" His hands flew to his chest, and he blushed. He looked from the doctor's face to where Ray sat, chin in hand, watching them with no attempt to hide his enjoyment. He shot him a glare, and Ray pulled back in a gesture of feigned innocence. "Oh. Yes. If you'll excuse me..." With a wounded air, he accepted the folded blue garment held out to him by a still-grinning Ray. Whipping the privacy curtain closed with a little more force than necessary, they could hear him muttering indignantly to himself amidst the rustling of clothing.

Dr. Young crossed the room to Ray's chair, and leaned down to speak with him quietly. "How long has he been like this?"

"You mean the mood swings? I dunno... he's been building to it for the last month or two. Then after he felt the baby move, he was like he was when we came in for about three days, and since then he's been up and down a lot. Mostly up."

She nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. The levels of estrogen and progesterone in his hormone cocktail increase gradually throughout the second trimester, mimicking the natural hormone progression of a pregnant woman. The increase would have started about six weeks agothat sound about right?"

"About."

"And then the psychophysiological effects of quickeningthat's what we call--"

"Feeling the baby move." Ray interrupted. "We've done a lot of reading."

"I bet you have. Anyway, the quickening would most likely have caused his natural endorphins to go through the roof, causing what you see here. You say the effects have been mostly positive?"

"Oh, yeah. Most of the time you couldn't scrape that grin off his face if you tried. Every once in a while he'll get depressed, but it doesn't usually last long. Once I actually saw him cry, though."

"Cry? What happened?" She sank to a crouching position facing him. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, so their faces were almost on a level.

"Nothing much. He wanted to tell somebody about the baby, and I said I didn't think it was a good idea because it might be dangerous if too many people knew about it. The thought that he might have put the baby in danger I think was what made him cry."

"You didn't... blame him, or accuse him of putting the baby in danger, did you?"

Ray sat up, pulling away from her with an expression of mixed surprise, hurt, and anger. "Of course not. What do you take me for?"

Dr. Young rocked back on her heels. "I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean anything by it. I just had to make sureI mean, I haven't known him long, but crying doesn't really seem in character for the Ben I've met. If you didn't provoke it in some way, it might be a symptom that his hormone levels are too high and I'll need to adjust them. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."

Ray relaxed visibly. "Oh. Well, that's all right, then. And you're right, he isn't the crying type. I've known him for almost ten years, and I never saw him shed a tear until now. Doesn't mean he might not have, but at least he's never let me see it before."

"Hmm. Well, we'll know more when we get his blood levels back. And if, as you say, this is an isolated incident and the rest of the time he's mostly happy, we may be all right as we are."

"Is there--" Ray began, but was cut off by the sound of the curtain opening, and Ben stood before them, white boxers just visible beneath the short blue gown which hung open slightly in the front.

"Are you two discussing me?" Ben smiled slightly, looking a little embarrassed at his earlier emotional display.

"Yep, Benny, we are." Ray's voice and expression were warm with affection.

Ben flushed, but he didn't look mad. "I think I'm ready for my physical now, Doctor." He climbed back onto the table and lay down.

Dr. Young laid a professional hand on his abdomen, palpating gently. "Feels pretty good. There's no tenderness anywhere?" Ben shook his head. "Ok, let's take a look with the ultrasound. The fetus should be about seven inches long, so it should make a pretty good picture. Could you pull that over here for me, please, Ray?" she asked, indicating the large machine that stood in the corner.

Ray obliged, positioning the monitor as he had seen it done several times in the last six months and handing her the various controls. "Nurse still on vacation?"

"Mm-hmm." She carefully hooked up the fetal heart monitor and adjusted a few wires before answering completely. "Silvina will be back in a few days. Bill's here, but he's helping out with a birth down the hall. The regular hospital staff is on call, of course, in case anything goes wrong, but I didn't really want to bring in anybody outside my immediate regular staff unless I had to." She touched a button, and the room was suddenly filled with the soft, rapid beeping of the tiny heartbeat.

Ray's eyes locked with Ben's in a shared glance of love and satisfaction, and their fingers interlaced.

"Sounds fine. 160, right where it ought to be." The doctor adjusted the ultrasound monitor and picked up the gel to coat Ben's abdomen. "Let me just..." she adjusted his boxers and gown to expose the whole area. "You're showing a bit. Congratulations!"

"We noticed," they said in unison. After a slight pause, Ben added, "Thank you kindly."

For a few minutes after that the only sounds in the room were the beeping of the heart monitor, the faint, sticky glide of the ultrasound sensor over Ben's slight bulge, and the scratch of Dr. Young's pen as she took notes. Finally she put down the clipboard and smiled at them. "It looks like she's doing just great. A little small for her age, but we expected that, since she doesn't have quite as rich a blood supply as she would get from the uterine lining. You've been taking it easy, haven't you?"

They were both staring at her. Ray found his voice first. "She?"

Dr. Young nodded. "She looks like a little girl, though it's hard to be absolutely certain. I was almost expecting a boysince you're both male, the chances were about two to one that you'd have a sonbut I don't see a..." she trailed off, struck by a sudden memory. "Oh... I'm sorry. You wanted to wait, didn't you?" She held a hand to her mouth, guiltily.

"Well, yes," Ben admitted.

"It's OK, though." Ray put in hastily. "Don't worry about it. Makes it easier to prepare, now that we know." His grip on Ben's hand had tightened, and they both looked a little shellshocked.

"Remember it's not 100 percent sure... sometimes boys this age are a little shy. So you might want to hold off a bit before you paint everything pink."

"But you're fairly certain?" Ben seemed to have recovered his composure.

"Pretty much. I'm sorry I ruined the surprise." She radiated genuine remorse.

"You didn't ruin it. You just pushed it up a little." Ray assured her.

"Actually, I believe it's more of a surprise this way, as we weren't expecting it," Ben added.

She smiled slightly. "I guess so. Well, let me get this out of your way and let you clean up a bit, and then we're all done except for the blood and urine samples."

The rest of the examination passed rather quickly, and soon they found themselves outside the clinic, alone together with their revelation.

 *****

"So." Ray began, as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"So." Ben responded. Silence descended.

"A girl." Said Ben finally.

"Yep." Ray answered.

"Well, I for one am glad," Ben said positively, his voice unnaturally loud in the wake of another uncomfortable pause.

"You're glad? Benny, you're nuts! What do two guys know about raising a girl? I mean, a boy, sure, same parts, same problems--"

"Now, Ray, that is an unfair generalization. Every child is unique, and one can no more assume that a male child would be interested in... in basketball, or cars, or hunting, than we can assume that our daughter will be interested in dolls and makeup. The only thing a parent can do is attempt to lose all preconceptions and treat the child as an individual. Therefore, raising a daughter should be no more of a challenge than raising a son. In fact, it might conceivably be easier, as we are already aware of our, ah, lack of expertise, and therefore any difficulties will be expected rather than otherwise. I am looking forward to the challenge."

"This from the man who told his own sister not to call him if she had any problems of a 'feminine nature'?

"Well, that's hardly... how did you know about that?" Ben turned in his seat and gave Ray a puzzled look.

"Maggie told me last time we were up there. Remember, you had that Mountie-meeting, and while you were in with the Superintendent she and I traded stories about ya. She thought it was cute." Ben smiled wryly, and Ray continued. "You're right, though, it might actually not be too bad. I mean, we oughta be experts when it comes to guy problems, right?"

Ben laughed and settled back into his seat. "Right."

 ~~~January 5, 2004~~~

"So, Benny," Ray said as he sank into a chair a few nights later. "Now that we know, you wanna talk about names?"

Ben placed the last plate in the rack, hung up the dishtowel, and took the facing chair. "Names," he echoed. "I don't know, Ray. We definitely decided against naming her after one of our mothers, correct?"

Ray nodded. "I think so. Unless you wanna change your mind, Caroline Vecchio Fraser sounds pretty nice."

"Ray, about the last name--"

"Oh, come on, Benny, we settled this. Our daughter has to be either a Vecchio or a Fraser. Frannie's kids are all hyphenated with Vecchio-Parker, so my name's already being carried on, for what that's worth. You, my love, are the last of the legendary Frasers--" Ben blushed at that "and it's only fair. Besides, which... oh, what's the word, name, family, background..."

"Lineage?" Ben supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, that's it. Which lineage would you rather identify yourself with, the one that gave the world the most famous Mounties since Dudley Do-Right, or your average Chicago immigrant family with more skeletons in the closet than they've got at the clinic?"

"Now, Ray, that is simply not true. Granted, my father was a great police officer, and I seem to have attracted my own share of, ah, recognition" he studiously ignored Ray's disbelieving snort "but my family has its share of faults, and even a few skeletons. Every family does. Your father may not have been everything you hoped for, but neither was mine, and look at your mother. She has raised three beautiful children who love her and who now have families of their own, and she is helping to raise nine grandchildrenten, soon," he added, touching the growing bulge in his stomach. "She accepted our relationship graciously and offered her support, even though it went against everything she had been taught to believe, and her acceptance of our current, somewhat unusual, situation, has been far beyond anything that could possibly be expected. My mother died when I was six."

"All right," Ray conceded. "You've got a point. Ma's pretty good."

"And Ray," he waited until Ray turned to him, "you're a Vecchio. And you are one of the finest men I have ever known, a man whom I have been proud to call my partner for the last ten years, and whom I hope to spend the rest of my life with. Any child would be proud to carry your name."

"Aww, Benny, don't go gettin all mushy on me," Ray protested, smiling.

"Blame it on the hormones. But I meant what I said."

"I know. Thanks." Changing tone, he continued. "But I'm still not backing down on this one. Our daughter is a Fraser until she changes it herself."

"All right. But in that case, we can't name her Caroline. I want you to pick her first name."

"I picked her last name."

Ben laughed. "True enough. All right, then, we pick her first name together. Do you have any preferences?"

"Where's that book my sister gave you for Christmas?"

"Which one? Maria and Francesca each gave me one."

"You're kidding. The same book?"

"No, the books had different titles. However, as name books, they are substantially alike."

"Jeez, and you claim my family's not pathetic."

"Ray..."

"Right, right. Anyway, where'd ya put 'em?" Ray asked, getting up.

Ben followed. "On the second shelf." Going to the bookcase that stood beside the bed, he selected two small volumes and tossed one to Ray, who caught it and flopped onto the bed.

Opening the book at random, he began to read aloud. "David, Davin, Davis, Dean, Dearborn...Delbert?" He looked up. "Who the hell is gonna name their kid Delbert? And how come there's no girls' names in here?"

"It's separated into two sections, Ray."

"Oh." Ray flipped a few pages back. "Hey, you know what Benton means? 'From the bent-grass farm.' I always knew your family had no sense when it came to names."

Ben smiled and 'hmph'd tolerantly in response, turning pages in his own book. "Ah, here we are. Raymond: from the Old German, meaning 'mighty or wise protector.' It suits you, Ray."

Ray tried not to blush, instead deflecting the conversation. "Hey, Benny, I never thought I'd see the day. Benton Fraser having to actually look up some esoteric fact."

"Now, Ray..."

Ray grinned at him and rolled over to drop a kiss on his cheek, then turned back to his book. "Hey, look, 'Fraser's in here. 'Strawberry.' No wonder your family's all in the Mounties. You have a genetic destiny with those red tunics."

"Oh, then I suppose we'll have to move to Canada. We can't deny our daughter her 'genetic destiny.'" Ben joked.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. First thing in the morning I'll call for tickets." Suddenly growing serious, Ray asked, "You ever think about it, Benny? Going back to Canada?"

"Occasionally. I've sometimes thought that I'd like to retire there, possibly return to my father's cabin. I think, though, that in reality I would end up coming back here, even if you were willing to stay there with me. My life is here nowyou're here, and you belong here. You don't have to tell me that you would come with me if I asked, Ray," he said, raising a hand to forestall the protest he could see on Ray's face. "I know that you would, and I can't tell you how much that means to me. But your life is here. And so is mine, now. You are here, yourourfamily is here, my work is here, my friends are here... Canada really has very little left for me now, nothing but memories. Most of them sad."

Ray was silent for a moment, unable to find the words with which to reply. Then, "Wow. I dunno what the doctor put in those drugs of yours, but you oughta take it more often. You never said that before."

Ben shrugged. "You never asked."

"Oh." After a minute, he changed the subject. "So. Names."

"Yes." Ben reached for the pad of paper and pens they kept next to the telephone. Tearing off a sheet for himself, he handed the pad and one of the pens to Ray. "I propose that we each make a list of the names that we like, and we can compare later."

"All right," Ray agreed, and the search was on.

 *****

"Amelia? Benny, you've *got* to be kidding."

"What's wrong with Amelia? Amelia Earhart. She was a famous aviator, and a very courageous woman. I believe that a girl should have a good, strong name to live up to."

"Yes, I agree with that... but, Benny... *Amelia*?!"

Ben looked slightly hurt. "It doesn't have to be Amelia. There are plenty of other names on my list."

Ray sighed exaggeratedly and looked down at the slip of paper in his hand. "All right, let's see. Ariel. I am not naming my daughter after a mermaid in an old Disney movie."

"No, no, Ray. Ariel was a spirit in Shakespeare's play 'The Tempest.' It's also a unisex name, so in the unlikely event that our child is a boy..."

"No." Ray vetoed the idea emphatically. "No way."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

"Here." He handed over his list with elaborate casualness, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety as Ben scanned his choices.

"Anne." Ben quirked an eyebrow. "That's a nice name." A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, and Ray looked away.

"Hey, I liked it before I met her, OK?"

"All right, Ray." Ben answered mildly. "Alessandra. That's pretty. Katrina, Marina, Silvina. I don't know, Ray. They're all nice, but none of them seems quite... I don't know, they just don't seem to fit."

Ray shrugged and took back his list. "So we'll keep looking."

"How about a name that means something? You don't seem to like my historical names, but I'd like a name that has something behind it."

"Sure. Tell you what, how about instead of each of us making up a list and then trading, we have one list and we both add to it whenever we find a name we like? And if one of us doesn't like a name on the list, we can cross it off, no questions asked?"

"And then we can choose a name together from the names left on the list," Ben finished, nodding slowly. "Sounds like a plan."

As the days passed, the list became a game. Knowing Ray's worry that he would pick something odd and 'embarrassing to shout across a playground,' Ben wrote down "Cleopatra." Ray, realizing he was being teased, pretended to take the nomination seriously and left it there. A few days later, Ben picked up the notepad to find, in Ray's neat script, "Decima" with the note "Maybe later?" Puzzled, he looked it up in the name book, and found "DecimaLatin: The Tenth Daughter." He smiled and kept reading. The next time Ray checked the list, Decima had been crossed out and under it was written "Semele." Flipping to the S's, he read, "Once, a single time." He laughed and blacked out both names.

Amidst the gags, a serious list was forming. Ann made a second appearance, this time without the 'e,' in Ben's upright lettering. Ray added Elisabeth, and started to write in Elaine but then noticed that it was already there. Jean stayed, but Ben vetoed Michelle.

"It's a nice name, Ray, but I knew a Michelle once, and she was just, I don't know, a little... odd. I don't think I could name my daughter that." Ray agreed, the name was crossed off, and the list continued.

 ~~~February 14, 2004~~~

"Hey, Benny, what's all this?" Ray asked, coming into the kitchen where Ben was sitting at the table, chopping celery. He lifted the lid of a pot that was simmering on the stove. "Smells great. But I thought we always went out for Valentine's Day?"

"Ray, do I look like I can walk into a fancy restaurant?"

Ray looked his partner over anxiously. "You're all right, aren't you? What's the matter? Do I need to call the doctor?"

"Oh, no, Ray," Ben answered irritably. "I'm fine. But look at me." He pushed his chair back and held out his hands, opening himself up for Ray's inspection.

Ray looked. His eyes took in the sock-clad feet, the Chicago PD sweat pants that alternated with the grey RCMP pair to form Ben's entire trouser repertoire lately, and the t-shirt that rode up slightly over the firm roundness of his belly, partially covered by a flannel shirt that hung open in the front and had the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. Then they returned to the beloved face with its pregnant glow of health. "You're beautiful," he said, simply and sincerely.

Ben smiled wryly. "Thank you kindly, but I don't believe the 'barefoot and knocked out' style is currently in fashion at Atlanta's upscale dining establishments."

"Up, Benny, knocked up." Ray corrected, trying to contain his laughter. "And I'm sure we can find something you can wear. Let's check the closet."

"Now, Ray"

Ray stopped and spun on his heel in the doorway. "Oh, come on, Benny. It's a tradition. We've gone out together for Valentine's Day every year since the first one, when we were two bachelors too wrapped up in our work to get a date."

"Well..." Ben stood up carefully, pressing a hand to his lower back, and followed reluctantly. Ray was already deep in the closet when he reached the bedroom, and he sat heavily on the end of the bed to wait.

Ray emerged a few moments later, his arms full of clothes which he deposited on the bed. He began rooting through the pile. "Ok... these slacks are pretty low-slung, so you might be able to buckle 'em under the bulge. And now... here, try this shirt of mine. It's meant to be worn untucked."

"All right." Ben stood and took the clothes. "I'll be back in a minute." He disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door firmly.

Ray stared after him, then followed. "Benny?" He tapped on the door. "What's wrong?"

There were a few muffled thumping noises, and then Ben opened the door and stuck his head out. "Nothing's wrong," he said innocently. "Why do you ask?"

"You're changing in the bathroom. You never used to be shy before, Benny. And now that I think about it, I don't think I've seen you less than fully clothed since we got back from Chicago. You don't snuggle up to me in bed like you used to, either. So what gives? Is this something else with the hormones again?"

"Hormones?" Ben appeared to be considering the question. "In a manner of speaking, yes..." he said tentatively.

"In a manner of...?" Ray repeated, glancing down at what was visible of Ben's body through the slight opening. Ben shifted abruptly to the side, further behind the door.

"C'mon, Benny. What're you hiding?"

Ben opened the door and stepped out, hastily buttoning the long silk shirt. He dropped his hands to his sides. "Nothing. How do I look?"

Ray looked him over with the critical eye of someone who knows his clothes. "Not bad. Why are you standing like that?"

"Like what?"

"Sort of hunched over. Where's that perfect Mountie posture I married you for?"

"Ray, we're not--"

"I know, I know. Figure of speech. And you know I would if it were legal."

"Yes, Ray." Ben smiled, a little sadly, and Ray returned it.

"But you're not getting out of this. Stand up straight. I wanna know what you're so anxious to keep me from seeing."

"Ray..." It was almost a whine.

"*Benny.*"

Ben gave in at last and straightened his shoulders. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting for what he knew was coming. It came, after an uncomfortable silence.

"Benny," Ray's voice sounded odd, "take off that shirt."

Ben squeezed his eyes shut briefly and then did so, without a word. Ray stared. He made a small, choked noise.

"Benny... you have... you have..."

"Breasts."

"Breasts! You have breasts!"

"Yes, Ray, I have breasts." Now that the truth was out, Ben just sounded tired.

"Ho... how...?"

"From the estrogen. It affects my body much as if--"

"No, I mean, how long? When did this start?"

Ben collapsed back onto the end of the bed, not bothering to rebutton the shirt. "They've been sensitive for a long time. I told you about that. About the time we returned to Atlanta, I noticed that the whole area was quite tender, and the swelling started a week or two after that. I knew I'd have to tell you about it eventually, I just..." He lapsed into a moody silence.

Ray sank down beside him. "Does Dr. Young know about this?"

Ben shook his head. "No. We've only had two appointments so far when it might have been noticeable, this morning and the last time, and I've been careful. If she did notice, she didn't say anything. She was probably expecting something like this anyway; it *was* listed as one of the possible risks when we applied, remember."

Ray ran a hand over his head, stopping to rub at the back of his neck. "Yeah. I guess it's just one more of the million and one things I should have been expecting when we went into this that still managed to take me by surprise."

"Ray? You don't regret the pregnancy?" Ben's voice was sharp with sudden fear.

"I dunno, Benny. If you had known, back when this all started, how it was going to be, would you have decided differently?"

"No! Ray, this body has been stabbed, shot, beaten, bruised, lacerated, and broken in hundreds of ways, trying to save lives. Now, it has a chance to bring a brand new life into the world, a life that you and I created. I would put up with more than morning sickness and secondary female sex characteristics for that. Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, Benny. I guess I would." He did his best to smile, but Ben knew the difference.

"Ray?"

"Oh, God, I don't know. It's just... this whole thing is so weird. Before I met you, I never even dreamed of anything like this. Not even when I went to bed after eating Frannie's zabaglione."

"And?" Ben took one of the hands that was still half-hiding Ray's face and wrapped it in his own.

"And I guess it's partly my Catholic upbringing rising up to bite me in the butt. Getting divorced from Ange used to be the biggest deal of my life. But then you came to town, and, after thirty-four years, I was suddenly gay. I mean, yeah, I was gay before, but I didn't have to admit it until I met you. Then I did meet you, and I fell in love with you, and I dealt with it. And I got used to the idea that I was never gonna have kids, at least not unless we adopted, and then suddenly we can have kids and next thing I know you're pregnant and you've got morning sickness and you've got breasts, and two or three months from now we're gonna have a newborn baby, and it's like all my life I've been walking along, on the level, and then I stepped onto a slide ten years ago and I've been pickin' up speed ever since."

"Ray, breathe." Ben stared at his partner, who seemed dangerously close to a breakdown. "All those things you mentionedwould you rather you hadn't met me? That we hadn't"

"No, Benny, no! I love you, and I love that you love me and I love that we're having a baby together. It's just that it's all happening so fast. I need some time to adjust to it all, and I'm just not gonna get that, am I? Your breasts, they're not that big a deal, I mean, if that was all it was I'd think it was funny. It's just this on top of that on top of the other, and I--"

"They're my breasts, Ray," Ben interrupted mildly. "How do you think I feel?"

"See, that's what gets me. How can you be so calm about all this? I mean, this is hard enough for me just watching, but if I were you and it was my body, I'd be going crazy. Doesn't it bother you at all?"

"Well, I admit that some parts of it have been a little... disturbing, sometimes even unpleasant. But we've gotten through them all so far, and we're doing just fine. And three months from now, we'll have a brand new baby girl, and this will all be over. Just... keep your eyes on the goal, Ray."

"Yeah," Ray sighed. "Yeah. I guess you're right." Ben put an arm around him, and he leaned into the broad chest. "You ever wanna freeze time, Benny? Wish everything would just hold still long enough for you to catch your breath?"

Ben didn't answer in words, just kissed the top of the bald head and held him close. Slowly the tension ebbed away from the slim body as it melded into his. Suddenly, just when it seemed as though everything was going to be all right, Ray's shoulders began to shake. Ben clutched him harder. "Ray? What's wrong? Are you all right?"

Ray raised his head, revealing eyes that were bright with laughter instead of the expected tears. "I'm fine. It's just..." he ran the side of a finger gently up the underside of one rounded bosom. "I've got these staring me in the face."

"Does that bother you?"

"No, not really. Now that I'm getting used to the idea. I guess... I just never thought I'd see them again. And I *definitely* never expected to see them on *you.*"

"So it doesn't bother you?"

"Nah. It was just the shock. You shouldn'tve waited until now to spring this on me, Benny. If I'd seen 'em all along, I think it would've been OK."

"I'm sorry, Ray. Next time I develop breasts, I will let you know immediately."

"You do that." They smiled at each other.

Suddenly Ben sat up, slipped the shirt from his shoulders, and posed. "So, what do you think? Do I look like your ideal woman?"

"Benny, man or woman, you *are* my ideal." He kissed him to emphasize the point. As one hand rose to cup the smooth roundness, Ben inhaled sharply, and his lips clung to Ray's more fiercely. "Hmmm..." This was a reaction worth investigating... he kneaded the breast experimentally. Ben moaned, deep in his throat, and pressed forward. The silk shirt was discarded altogether as they moved up the bed. Ray's was on its way to join it when Ben's hands suddenly stilled.

"Ray. Ray." Ray looked up from his exploration of Ben's new development. "Do you smell someth--" Ben suddenly shot off the bed and disappeared into the kitchen, from which a clattering noise and the sound of running water came almost immediately. Ray blinked, realized what was happening, and followed almost as quickly. He found Ben standing by the sink, enveloped in a cloud of steam and the acrid stench of burning. He turned to Ray mournfully.

"The soup... I left it on the stove... it boiled dry and... burned." He looked absolutely heartbroken, and Ray's own feelings were immediately swallowed up in the automatic need to comfort and protect.

"Benny, hey. It's OK. Don't--"

"I can't go out with you, and I wanted to make something special, and I...I..." he stared disconsolately at the sink, and then back at Ray. "I'm sorry..."

Ray turned off the water and drew Ben gently away from the still-smoking pot. "Don't worry about it. We can do something else. I'll go pick something up, bring it back here. We don't have to go out. It'll be just the three of us."

Ben smiled slightly and allowed himself to be led. "Can we have Chinese?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure. I'll go out and pick it up. You put on something comfortable and decide where you want to eat. The usual OK?"

Ben considered the question. "How about mushroom chicken instead of General Tsao's? And maybe broccoli beef?"

"Whatever you want. I'll be back in a flash."

"Well, actually, Ray, in light of the fact that tonight *is* Valentine's day, the restaurant is likely to be quite full and it might take rather longer than usual."

Ray smiled and blew him a kiss from the doorway. "I'll tell 'em to put on a rush."

 *****

The woman who took his order at the restaurant told Ray that he would have to wait about an hour for the food to be ready, and if he liked he could wait in one of the chairs in the entry area. She was very sorry, but all the booths were full. Would he like a magazine, she asked solicitously, producing one from beneath the register.

He accepted with a sigh, sat down, and idly flipped a few pages, only to discover that the magazine was written in Chinese. The absurdity of the whole night struck home, and he laughed out loud.

The receptionist was immediately at his side, inquiring anxiously whether he was all right. He smiled at her. "Yeah. Look, I'm gonna go for a walk. I'll be back in about forty-five minutes to pick up the food, OK? Thanks for the magazine."

Out in the cool February evening air once again, Ray pondered the strangeness than had become his life. Thinking of the magazine, he wondered if Ben would teach their daughter to speak Cantonese, or any of the other assorted languages he spoke. Ben had tried to teach him once, but he'd never gotten much beyond "hello," "goodbye," "I love you," and "where is the bathroom?"the four phrases they'd decided were necessary for survival in any foreign country. He'd considered memorizing the words for "coffee" in each language, but general consensus went against it when they decided that, outside of Italy, and possibly Brazil, foreign coffee wasn't worth asking for.

His thoughts led him down the sidewalks of midtown Atlanta, in and out of the orange glow of streetlights and through the lacy shadows of the still-bare trees in their wire cages. Occasionally he passed couples on their way from cars to restaurants, or out walking like himself, strolling after dinner or passing time waiting for a reservation. As he found himself almost back at the door of the Chinese place with fifteen minutes to spare, he looked around and spotted a florist's shop with the light still on. He wandered in, and after a few minutes came back out with a single, Mountie-red rose.

He returned to his chair in the entryway of the restaurant and passed a further twenty minutes with the Chinese magazine, while the receptionist hovered over him between customers. Just as he was trying to decide whether his rear was going to be permanently molded into the shape of the seat, or if he was going to leave the imprint of his rear in the seat for posterity in a bizarre kind of "Kilroy was here," a kitchen boy appeared with a big paper bag, the receptionist shoved in a handful of at least six fortune cookies, and he was able to go home.

The blinds were still open in the window of the small apartment when he reached it, and Ray's eye was caught by the tableau inside. Ben lay half-curled on the bed, his arms cradling the round bulge of his unborn child. His lips were moving as he glanced from her to the television screen, which was showing a special on bears. Ray realized, after a moment, that he was discussing the show with her. Feeling as though he was intruding upon a private moment, he was careful to make a lot of noise with his keys as he opened the door.

Ben met him a few steps inside the apartment. "Don't take your coat off, Ray. I thought we could eat up on the roof."

"The roof? Benny, it's freezing up there."

"Oh, I hardly think so, Ray. And besides, the stars are much more romantic than this apartment. Let's just try it. If we get too cold, we can come in."

"Oh, all right. Lead on."

Ben led him back out into the common hallway and bounded up the stairs, waiting for him at the first landing. "Would you like some help with that?" he asked, as Ray followed more slowly with the bag.

"I got it."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Come on." He reached the landing and continued on up the next flight, Ben at his heels. Two flights later, he opened the door to the rooftop and stopped dead.

The roof of their apartment building was flat, and was set up with lighting and two picnic tables as an outdoor common area for the tenants. It had been mostly taken over by those who needed a place to smoke, and Ray was expecting the usual litter of cigarette butts and ashtrays. Instead, the whole area had been swept clean, and the ashtrays moved to one of the tables. The other was covered with a striped cloth which, upon closer inspection, proved to be a Hudson blanket. A candle stood waiting in a hurricane glass next to a box of matches, and a bud vase held a single white rose, tipped with pink. A bottle of sparkling cider and two glasses were there also.

"You did all this?"

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. And you." He half-turned in the doorway and kissed Ben awkwardly on the cheek, then went to the table and set down the bag. He produced his own red rose and handed it to Ben. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Thank you kindly," he answered shyly, and added it to the vase. The bag was unloaded and they were about to sit down when he realized what was missing. "I forgot the plates. I can run down and--"

"No, no, sit down. It tastes better straight out of the carton anyway."

So they spent that Valentine's dinner looking out over the city, Ray in his overcoat and Ben in shirt sleeves, eating Chinese food straight from the box and drinking cider.

"You're sure you're not cold?" Ray asked, for the sixth time.

"On the contrary, I feel quite warm."

"You running a fever?"

Ben applied the inside of his wrist to his own forehead briefly. "Nope. 37 degrees Celsius precisely."

Ray shook his head in disbelief. "Well, as long as you're comfortable."

Eventually the time came to go inside, and they cleared away the remains of the meal. Ben picked up the roses, the half-emptied bottle and glasses, and the hurricane lamp and packed them into a canvas bag that had been waiting under the table. He folded the blanket, but Ray insisted on carrying it down.

"You're not supposed to exert yourself, remember? Let me do it."

"Ray, I carried it up here. It's not exertion. I feel fine. I feel better than fine. Don't worry so much."

"Okay... but if you start to get out of breatheven a littleyou tell me and let me carry everything, got it?"

"Understood, Ray."

As promised, Ben was not even breathing hard when they reached the bottom of the stairs, but Ray saw him wince slightly as they laid their assorted burdens on the kitchen table. He was instantly on full alert. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, Ray." Ben tried to smile as he rubbed subtly at his stomach.

"You're sure?"

"Positive. It's just a slight muscle cramp. It's gone now. I'm fine."

"Completely gone?"

"Completely and utterly gone. Absolutely, totally, entirely swept out of existence."

"If it comes back..."

"If it comes back, I will tell you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"I'm being silly, aren't I?"

"Just a little, yes."

"Am I bothering you?"

"No, Ray, I know that you are simply worried about me and about our child, and I appreciate your concern." He paused. "I must admit, however, that at times..."

"Got it. I'll try not to fuss so much."

"I'll let you know if you need to." Ben gave him a swift kiss on his way to the fridge with the leftovers, sneaking a final mushroom with his fingers before closing the door. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

 ~~~February 28, 2004~~~

"Seven months down, two to go. We're in the home stretch, guys. So, how have things been? Anything new to report, any problems or questions?"

"Oh, no, everything has been fine," Ben answered, swinging his bare legs slightly as he sat on the examination table. "She's getting more active. Ray can feel her kick now."

Ray's expression melted into a smile. "She's a busy one. Takes after my side of the family. But there was something we wanted to bring up, wasn't there, Benny?" he added seriously. It wasn't a question.

Blue eyes looked at him innocently. "I don't think so, Ray."

"Oh, I'm sure there was. Remember that new development" he emphasized the word "we were going to tell the doctor about?" These words were greeted by a reproachful blue glare, which he met without flinching.

As the doctor in question was clearly waiting for an explanation, Ben gave in. With a sigh and a final dark look at Ray, who shrugged it off with a satisfied smile, he said, "Yes, well, Ray is referring, I believe, to the fact that I seem to be experiencing some, er... well, you see... that is...um." He took a deep breath and began again. "I have noticed some... mammary development."

"I see. This is in addition to the tenderness you were having before?" He nodded, and she scribbled something in her notebook. "Mm hmm. And when did you first notice this?"

"About a month ago, maybe more."

"Hm. Have you noticed any lumps or unevenness?" A shake of the head. "Any pain?"

"No."

"What about any kind of a discharge from the nipples?"

"No, no, nothing like that!"

She glanced up to see the expressions of surprise on Ben's face and sheer horror on Ray's, and quickly explained. "It's not uncommon for a woman in the later stages of pregnancy to produce a clear fluid from the nipples. It happened in one or two of our animal subjects on this project as well."

"If... that happened," Ray asked, "how long would it last?"

"It varies. It may last for only a few days, or it could continue throughout the pregnancy or even longer. There were studies done several years ago that showed that it is possible, given the right circumstances, for a man to actually lactate."

"Lac..." An inarticulate gurgle came from one or both of the men, she wasn't sure. What she was sure of was that they were both now staring at her in shock. She stifled a wicked desire to laugh.

"There have even been documented cases of male lactation in nature in a few species."

Ben shook his head slightly as though he were trying to get his thoughts to fall into place. It seemed to work, as, with an effort, he managed to produce two words. "Fruit bat."

Ray stared at him with an expression which clearly said "One of us is losing it, but I'm not going to run until I figure out which."

The doctor regarded him thoughtfully. "I think you're right. It's been a while since I read the article, so I'm a little hazy on the details, but I'm pretty sure it was a bat. Somewhere in Southeast Asia, if I remember correctly."

"Malaysia." Ben was still floored emotionally, but logic and memory were quicker to recover and he spoke with conviction. "The Dayak fruit bat. Ten males were found with mammary glands distended with milk." He paused. "The article also mentioned that the same, ah, effect occurred in human males who had been given estrogen, something which you, as I recall, also warned us about before we embarked on this... enterprise."

"But hearing it and experiencing it are two different things, huh?" Her smile was genuinely sympathetic this time, and he nodded.

"No kidding," Ray said faintly, from where he sat limply in the chair by the window.

"Well." Dr. Young said briskly, shattering the heavy silence which had begun to gather. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Or IF we come to it, since it's by no means certain that we will. In the meantime, how about you let me examine you and we'll make sure everything's OK?"

"Sure." Ben took hold of the front of his gown. "Do you, ah, need to see them?"

"It would probably be best."

He swallowed and rolled his eyes heavenward briefly, then removed the thin blue garment.

The doctor inspected his small breasts carefully, then raised a hand. "May I?" He nodded, and she palpated gently. "This may be a bit uncomfortable, but it shouldn't be painful. Let me know if anything I do hurts you."

When she was satisfied that everything was all right, he put his hospital gown back on. Then there were the usual blood and urine samples to test his hormone levels, and she measured and recorded the size of his swollen belly. "Growth should slow down a little for the next month or so, but you should still expect to gain about half a pound to a pound a week. I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but you may actually want to consider getting a few maternity tops." 

"Oh, no, that's quite all right," Ben hastened to reassure her. "We've actually thought about it. We just haven't gotten around to actually going... shopping."

"Well, I can recommend a few shops if you want. They generally have pretty nice stuff, and the prices are reasonable. The clinic keeps a list that we give out to our patients, and you can pick up a copy at the front desk on your way out."

Ray nodded. "I'll take care of it."

"And now," she continued more seriously, "I have to warn you, these last few weeks could be tricky. You know that she isn't getting as much blood as a fetus usually would from the female endometriumthat's the uterine lining-- and because of that she's at some risk for oxygen deprivation. I don't expect that we'll have a problem as long as you stay calm and don't try to do too much. Stress and physical exertion cause more of your blood to be diverted to the heart, lungs, and limbs, and away from the lower abdomen where she can use it. So I want you to be careful, OK? I know it can be really tough to sit back and let other people do things for you, but as your doctor I'm ordering you to try. If you feel yourself starting to get anxious or tense, I want you to sit down and will yourself to relax. And let Ray do anything physical that needs doing. Promise?"

Ben agreed, then hesitantly asked "What about, ah..." he blushed.

She grinned. "Sex? Sex is fine as long as you don't get too acrobatic about it. It tends to concentrate the blood right where she needs it."

"Ah. Yes. Um. Well. What, ah, symptoms should I watch for if she is having trouble?"

"Fetal distress can be hard to catch outside a hospital. It usually happens during difficult labors, where we track it with special monitors. If you don't feel any movement for twenty-four hours, come in and we'll hook you up. Another thing you might watch for is a slight pain in the lower abdomen, as the reduced blood flow is taken up by the fetus and pulled away from your own organs. If that happens, lie down, elevate your feet, and take deep, slow breaths. If the pain doesn't go away within about fifteen seconds, get Ray to call 911 and get here FAST. And while he's calling, you don't do a thing. You just keep breathing and do your best to relax. If you want to try to increase blood flow, Ray can massage the area gently. Don't push too hard, and don't use too much friction, because that will bring the blood to the surface. Just a gentle, circular motion."

"Got it," said Ray, wide-eyed.

"Hey, don't worry, guys. I don't mean to scare you. You've done great so far, and pretty soon we'll be home free. Besides, now we have a safety valve. If things do go wrong, you're far enough along that we can deliver the baby prematurely. It's best if we can wait it out for the full 36 weeks, but at this point she has a pretty good chance of survival in the outside world. Everything will be all right."

*****

"So, Benny, you up to a little shopping?" Ray asked as they stepped out into the warm February sunshine.

Ben stopped and stretched his back outside the clinic door. "I don't know, Ray," he said hesitantly.

"Oh, come on. I think we both need to go out and do something fun after this morning."

"Shopping for maternity clothes is fun?"

"Sure. Shopping for anything can be fun as long as you go about it in the right frame of mind. Remember how you didn't think shopping for a bed was going to be fun until I made you go?"

Ben smiled. "And you made me lie down and roll on every single mattress in six different stores."

"And did you have fun?"

"Well..."

Ray helped Ben into the passenger's seat of the Riv, then placed his hands on the roof and leaned down so that they could still speak on a level. "Come on, Benny. Shopping is an adventure, and--"

"And anything can happen," Ben finished for him. "I know. All right, Ray. Let's go shopping."

"Great!" He closed Ben's door for him and walked around to the driver's side, where he found Ben flopped across the seats, trying to unlock his door with his usual courtesy. Ray sighed and used his key. Ben pushed himself up laboriously, and he restrained the urge to help, trusting Ben not to push his limits. Then he got in and pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket. "Okay... First on the list is Babies and Mothers on Oxford Street." He started the engine, and they were off.

To Ben's surprise, they only visited three maternity shops before Ray agreed to call it a day. The shopping itself was surprisingly enjoyable, as for the first time he tried on clothes that had been designed for a pregnant figure and actually fit him comfortably. After the first "May I help you, ma'am?" they got used to Ben's being treated as a woman, and it became part of the adventure.

Ben refused to buy anything but the very plainest clothes, and at the first store he wouldn't even try on a shirt that wasn't solid or plaid. At the second, he allowed himself to be talked into "modelling" a dark blue tunic with a scattering of tiny stars. By the time they reached the third, he was in his best mood, filled with the energy of late pregnancy. The saleswoman at the final store had been having a slow day and was happy to have someone to help, and aided and abetted by Ray, she got Ben into a long, scoop-necked velour party dress. Laughing, hair rumpled into soft curls by hours of pulling clothes on and off, the drape of the fabric emphasizing his budding figure, he looked like the perfect portrait of the expectant mother.

"God, Benny, I wish I'd brought the camera. This is a picture I'm going to want to remember. Frannie would die if she knew I'd actually gotten you to wear a dress."

"Oh, well, it's a good thing you didn't. I like your sister, Ray. I'd hate to be responsible for her death."

"Actually..." Their co-conspirator disappeared behind the sales counter and, a few rattling and shuffling noises later, reemerged with an ancient Polaroid camera.

"Oh dear." Ben hid his face in his hands.

"I'm a grandmother, kids. I'm always prepared. Now smile, young lady. Shoulders back. Tilt your head a little. That's it!" *Click.* She took the developing photo and handed it to Ray, and stowed the camera back in her overflowing handbag. "You know, you have a beautiful face. You ought to dress up a little more, show it off. When I was young, we used to always wear makeup and short skirts to show off our legs for the young gentlemen. You hardly see anybody dressed up nice and feminine anymore. Why, when you walked in here, if you hadn't been pregnant I could almost have believed you were a man. Now, you look so nice and pretty in that, it's a crying shame."

The smile had frozen on Ben's face with the word "man." With an effort, he brought it back. "Thank you kindly. I suppose I just never felt the need to dress up. I don't really have occasion to very often in my line of work."

"Oh? What do you do?"

Ben hesitated and looked at Ray, but no help was forthcoming. "I'm a police officer."

"A woman police officer! Well, what times we do live in. You let her do that?" She turned to Ray incredulously.

"Let her? I'm her partner on the force. I count on her."

"You're a policeman too? What a family for your poor baby to grow up in!"

"Hey, she'll always be safe."

"I suppose so! Well, dear, are you going to take the dress? You do look lovely in it."

Ben smiled. "I'm afraid I don't have anywhere to wear it. But we will take the dark green shirt and the black pants."

"All right. I'll ring them up for you while you go change."

Ray had already paid for the clothes when he came out of the dressing room, and the lady handed him the bag. "Here you go, Jenny." He gave her a startled glance. "That is your name, isn't it? I thought I heard your husband call you that earlier. My hearing isn't quite what it used to be though..."

"Oh, no. I mean, yes. I was, ah, thinking of something else."

"Oh. All rightie, then, you two have a nice day. And if you change your mind about that dress, you come on back now, y'hear?"

"Will do. Thank you kindly, ma'am."

"Come on, Jenny," Ray said with an evil grin, and took his arm. "Let's go home."

*****

"You're awfully quiet," Ray commented on the way back to the apartment. "Hope I didn't tire you out?" Ben didn't move, and continued to stare out the car window. "Benny?"

He started. "Hm? Oh. Ah, no, it's not that. I feel fine. It's just that I, ah... It's nothing, really. Forget I mentioned it."

"You didn't mention it. I mentioned it. And if something's bothering you, then we should discuss it."

"Oh, Ray, it's nothing. It's... it's silly."

"So?"

"Ray, I really..."

"Oh, come on. I promise I won't laugh."

"A... all right. It's just that, well, after all of this... and then today, I was just thinking that... I mean, I was worried about... no, perhaps that's not the right word, I was... Ray, do you think I'm losing my masculinity?"

Fortunately the task of keeping the car from running off the road prevented Ray from breaking his promise. When they were once again securely pointed in the right direction and running smoothly, and Ray had had a few seconds in which to recover, he answered. "Whadda ya mean, Benny? You're the most masculine guy I know. You're the world-famous Supermountie, Defender of Peace, Upholder of Justice, voted Most Desirable Date by the women of Chicago three years running. You can wrestle bears and build a cabin starting with an ax and a forest. Believe me, you're masculine."

Ben sighed. "I know that I was, Ray, but what about now? I mean, I'm pregnant. I am developing secondary female sexual characteristics. I am in love with another man, Ray! I--"

"Well, I hope you don't regret that!"

"No, no, Ray, that isn't what I meant at all. I love you and I love our child. But three saleswomen today thought that I was a woman, even without the makeup that I wore as Miss Fraser. And I didn't find it at all difficult to maintain the charade." He fished the Riv's rearview mirror out of the glove compartment and scrutinized his face. "Do I look like a woman?" He turned his head carefully this way and that, moving the mirror now closer, now farther away. "I suppose my features have softened slightly, probably as a result of the estrogen. And my color is rather high. But Ray, do you think--"

"No, I don't! I think it takes a lot of balls to do what you're doing. Most guys would never have even considered carrying a child, and even if they did they would've gone crazy long before this. You're a great man, Benny. You just wait until after the baby's born, and all of this stuff" he waved his hand to indicate Ben's face and body "is gone and you're back to normal."

"But, Ray, what if it doesn't? What if these changes are permanent?"

"They won't be, Benny."

"But Ray, we don't know that. Naturally, the pregnancy will be over, and my waistline will be correspondingly smaller, but what about the rest? I always assumed that I would just snap back into my old body, maybe with a few weeks or months of physical training to get back into fighting trim, but maybe it won't be that simple."

"What do you mean? Why shouldn't it? It's just baby fat."

"Well, yes and no. Some of my physical changes are indeed due to adipose tissue, but the breast development is glandular. I can't just do a few hundred sit-ups and make them go away."

The Riviera had its second close encounter with oblivion in about five minutes. "You mean they're permanent?!"

"It is a possibility."

"And you've known about this for how long and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, Ray, it's elementary really. Once a woman's breasts develop, they don't just disappear. They may be reduced in size by exercise, but without surgery some breast tissue will always be present. It also occurs in men who take steroids to increase muscle mass. They will stop taking the drugs after they notice the changes, but the breasts will remain. I just assumed that the same principle would apply to me."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I assumed that you would figure it out in the same way that I did. And if you didn't, then I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. There's nothing either of us can really do about it. We'll deal with it if and when we have to."

"You see, Benny, this is what's wrong with you. You figure that just because there's nothing I can do, that I don't want to hear about what's bothering you. Maybe I want to worry about you. I want to worry with you."

"I'm sorry, Ray." Ben crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the window.

"Oh, come on, Benny, don't do this to me!"

"I'm not doing anything to you."

"Oh, yes you are. You're clamming up on me like you always do when we're having a discussion. Don't shut me out, Benny. You and I are a couple, and we're about to be parents. That means we have to be in sync, and we can't do that if you won't talk to me."

"Ray, that's not fair. I do talk to you, it's just... you know it's always been hard for me. It's hard for me to tell you how I feel when I don't *know* how I feel. You think out loud, Ray, and the whole process is right out there on the surface. I was taught that you never speak unless you have something to say. I wish I had your freedom about some things, Ray, but I don't. It just doesn't come naturally for me. And I do try to tell you when I think there is something you need to know, but there are some things you just don't need to hear about right away, and maybe I need time to decide how to tell you in my own way."

They pulled into the apartment's lot, and Ray parked the car, but didn't get out. "Okay. I know you need time, Benny, and I can respect that. But come on, how much time do you need? You say you've known about the breasts since we got back here in January--"

"A few weeks after we returned."

"Okay, a few weeks later. So, say the middle of January. Or we'll be generous, say the end of January. And I know how fast your mind works, Benny, it didn't take you that long to figure out that it might be permanent. Today is the last day of February! Can--"

"Actually, Ray, tomorrow is the last day of February. It's a leap year."

"Whatever! Don't try to change the subject!"

"I'm not."

"Okay." Ray took a deep breath. "I'm calm. The point is, Benny, that it's been over a month and you still hadn't said anything. You were changing in the bathroom to keep me from finding out about it in the first place, and then when I did find out and we did talk about it, you never said 'by the way, Ray, this is probably permanent.' When were you going to tell me?"

"Is it that important?"

"What?"

"How I look. My breasts. Is it that important to you? Would it change the way you feel about me, or would you have acted differently if I had told you a month ago? What would it have changed?"

"It's not about that. I do like the way you look, Benny, but I wouldn't care if you looked like Jabba the Hutt as long as you were still you inside. This is about trust. This is about communication. I don't care if you have breasts like Dolly Parton and keep them until the day we die at the ripe old age of a hundred and three. What matters to me is that you were worried about it, and you didn't say anything. I know you didn't want me to worry, and believe me I appreciate the thought. But what I don't think you understand is that when you do that, it makes me feel like I'm not a part of your life. I want to be there for you, Benny, I want to be important to you. I want to know how you feel, what you worry about, what you hope for, what you're afraid of. Please."

"All right. I will try. You are important to me, Ray. I love you. It's just that this is a very difficult time for me, and I just... need... time. I will try. I will."

Ray gave him a measuring look. "Okay. And I'll try too. Let's go inside."

~~~March 18, 2004~~~

Ben stifled a groan as he lowered himself carefully onto the bed, guiding his descent with one hand as he supported his massive belly with the other. Ray set down his book, rolled up to a sitting position behind him with his customary lithe grace, and helped Ben to lean back against him. "Back still bothering you?" Ben bit his lip and nodded, trying to breathe slowly. "Here." He shifted them both gently, sliding his hands between their bodies to massage Ben's lower back.

"Mmmm." Ben relaxed under his ministrations with a grateful sigh. "You have such wonderful hands, Ray," he murmured indistinctly.

"Glad I could help." He kneaded the flesh under his fingertips, the silence broken only by Ben's small sounds of pleasure and brief requests that he move higher or lower, or press harder or not so hard, please. "Have you tried anything for the pain? What happened to that prescription the doctor gave you?"

"I didn't want to" he grunted slightly as Ray's fingers found a particularly sore spot "take anything unless I had to. It's not... that bad, Ray."

Ray's hands stilled and he wrapped his arms around his partner. "Benny, you're in so much pain you can barely walk! You--"

"Ray, please." Ben tugged at the arms that were drawn uncomfortably tight around his middle.

"Oh, sorry." Ray loosened his grip. "That better?" Ben nodded, and he resumed his argument. "Taking medicine so you can function isn't going to hurt anything. They make it specially for this sort of thing, so it won't hurt the baby. The doctor wrote out the prescription for you. So what's the problem?"

"I don't know, Ray. It's just habit, I suppose. You know I never take drugs if I can help it."

Ray sighed. "Yeah. I know. How about a hot bath then? Maria used to tie up the first-floor bathroom for hours at a time when she was pregnant. And they always used to tell us to use heat to take care of muscle aches when I was in training."

Ben turned his head and eyed him reluctantly. "Heat? Ray..."

After a second's thought, Ray realized what he was suggesting and chuckled. Over the past six weeks, the thermostat in the apartment had crept steadily lower, until Ray had taken to wearing sweaters indoors all day while Ben wore his short-sleeved maternity tops and tried not to complain about being hot. After a few nights of midnight blanket struggles that usually ended in picking the comforter up off the floor in the morning, they had reached a compromise. All of the covers were now folded double over Ray's half of the mattress, leaving Ben's side with a sheet only, which he still occasionally kicked off in his sleep. No, heat was probably not the best suggestion. He thought. "How about some kind of a sling? You know, something that would support the baby, maybe transfer some of the weight to your shoulders instead of it all hanging from your lower back?"

Ben looked thoughtful, then quickly pulled himself out of Ray's embrace and, with an effort, retrieved the pad of paper and a pencil from the bedside table and propped himself up against the pillows. He folded back the pages that had been devoted to the list of names, noting as he did so that "Karen" had been added to the list, and turned up a fresh page. Ray watched with interest as he drew a swift outline of his pregnant form, then tried various designs for a sling, muttering to himself as he did so. The first sketch, to Ray's untutored eye, looked very much like a dogsled harness. The second resembled a badly-made women's bathing suit. The third, as it began to take shape, looked more promising. It was, quite simply, a broad band of material that encircled the body from hip to waist, held up by suspenders.

Ben's muttering grew more excited. "Add a zipper... here..." his pencil flew over the page, making notes and drawing arrows. "And an elastic panel here. There," he turned his sketch for Ray's approval, "What do you think?"

"Um... can you actually make that thing?"

"Of course, Ray. Sewing is very simple, really, all you need is a basic knowledge of geometry, a reasonable amount of manual dexterity and a little patience. Now," he quickly wrote out a list on a second sheet of paper, tore it out, and handed it to Ray. "Here is a list of the things I'll need. If you could just run out and pick them up while I make up a pattern, I can whip this up in no--"

"Benny, it's eleven o'clock at night."

"Oh, I'm not tired, Ray. And this will only take a couple of hours."

"Well yeah, that may be, but I don't think many fabric stores have 24-hours-a-day service."

"Oh. Well." He appeared crestfallen for a moment, then began to struggle to his feet. "Is thereunghanything around the apartment we could--"

"Benny, hey," Ray laid a restraining hand on Ben's arm. "Don't worry about it. Just come to bed. I'll go out first thing in the morning and get your stuff, and you can work on it while I look up all that stuff they asked me for on the Neumann case."

After a brief resistance, Ben gave in and lay back against the pillows. Ray turned back to his long-neglected book on criminal psychology, and had finished about a page and a half when Ben suddenly spoke. "You know, some pemmican would be wonderful right about now."

The book dropped onto Ray's chest. "Pemmican?"

"Dessicated meat, Ray. It's a dietary staple in the far north."

"I know what pemmican is. Why--"

"I was just lying here and it suddenly occurred to me that it had been a long time since I had had any. Ray, you don't suppose..."

"No, I don't!"

"Oh, Ray, come on. I'm sure that someone in this city--"

"At eleven at night?"

"But I thought you Americans said that the city never sleeps?"

"No, Benny, that's 'THE city THAT never sleeps,' and it's a nickname for New York. It has nothing to do with Atlanta, or with the fact that the people down here don't usually make a lot of Inuit food."

"Please?"

"Oh, God, not the Big-Eyed Mountie Look. All right, all right, I'm going. I'll see what I can find. No promises though, all right?" He got out of bed and pulled a pair of slacks on over his pajama bottoms.

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

"Yeah." He slipped on a pair of shoes, grabbed his keys and wallet, and was out the door.

When he returned, it was shortly after midnight, and Ben was asleep. Ray sighed and smiled ruefully, replacing his keys on the dresser as quietly as possible and carefully settling the large brown paper bag he carried on the dresser top next to them. Noiselessly, he slid out of his shoes and slacks, went to the bathroom, and slipped into bed beneath his massive pile of blankets without disturbing his partner. He reached up and switched off the light, settled into his pillows, and closed his eyes.

"Ray?"

He opened them again, but didn't move, hoping Ben would simply go back to sleep. His hopes were dashed when he felt his shoulder being determinedly shaken.

"Ray, are you awake? Did you get it?"

He gave up and switched the light back on, then sat up and swung his feet back onto the cold floor. "No pemmican, big surprise there, but--" he retrieved the bag from the top of the dresser "You are in luck. Welcome to the South, the land of beef jerky." He dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed. "Okay, we have... plain beef jerky, spicy beef jerky, Honey Barbecue beef jerky, teriyaki beef jerky, Turkey Jerky, Bubba's Cajun Style beef jerky, a Slim Jim, and some dried venison. The guy down at the mini-mart says he shot it himself."

Ben sniffed at the various items one by one, and sampled a few of them. He reached the dried deer meat, took a larger bite, and chewed it slowly. "It's a little different, but the flavor is very much like dried caribou. Would you like some?"

"No thanks. You go ahead."

Ben finished the piece, a blissful expression on his face, then rooted through the highly fragrant pile of dried beef. "Was there any more?"

"The guy at the store had plenty, but that's all I got. I didn't want to get too much of any one thing, 'cause I wasn't sure what you'd like." Noticing Ben's vaguely disappointed look, he added "I can get you more tomorrow when I'm out looking for the stuff for the sling."

"Thanks, Ray." Ben smiled adoringly at him. "Could you, ah..." he gestured at the pile of food on the blankets.

Ray rolled his eyes and dropped a rough kiss on Ben's forehead, then swept the jerky back into its paper bag and carried it into the kitchen. Ben was asleep again by the time he returned, and he slid gratefully between beef-scented sheets, switched off the light, and closed his eyes. This time, he was allowed to sleep until morning.

~~~March 19, 2004~~~

Ray doggedly worked his way through the stacks of files piled around him on the kitchen table. The work went more slowly than it might otherwise have, as he kept checking up on his partner's progress. Ben was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scraps of light-blue cotton fabric, bits of thread clinging to his pants, a tin of dried venison close at hand, stitching away with almost mechanical precision. Over the course of the morning, a strong criminal case and an oddly-shaped support garment both began to take shape.

At long last, just as Ray hit "send" on a document that would finally send to justice a man who, for the last six years, had made a living embezzling priceless artifacts from museums, Ben bit through his thread. "Ray, could you help me with this?"

Ray closed his laptop without turning it off, ignoring its indignant beep, and held out a hand to help Ben up. With an effort, he managed to reach a vertical position, and removed his shirt. Then he looked in despair at his project, which was still lying, unreachably, at his feet. Before he had time to ask, Ray had picked it up and handed it to him.

"Thanks, Ray." Wrapping it around himself, he turned and presented his back. "Could you, ah, zip me up?" His partner complied, then stepped back to view the results. "You dropped the suspender idea?"

"I thought I'd try it without first. I can always add them later." He adjusted his new belt slightly and looked at Ray anxiously. "How does it look?"

Ray shrugged. "Looks fine to me. How does it feel on? Does it help with the... with the weight?"

Ben wriggled experimentally, looking thoughtful. "It seems to. It may take some time to get used to, but it does relieve some of the pressure."

"Put your shirt on. Let's see how it looks under clothes." Ben retrieved his dark green maternity top from the back of the chair and pulled it on. "It's hung up on the belt in back." Ray reached around and quickly pulled the shirt down, then eyed him critically once more. "Looks fine. You can't even tell you're wearing it. Go look in the mirror."

 Ben's appearance passed his own inspection, and as they stood together in front of the mirror, he ventured a hesitant question. "Ray... do you think I... ought to dress as a woman in public?"

"What?!"

"Just for the next few weeks."

"Why?"

"I think it might be safer. Apparently many people already believe that I am a woman, and it could be dangerous, or at the very least inspire questions that may prove uncomfortable to answer, if they discover that I am not. You yourself have suggested"

"I did what?!"

"Well, not in so many words, of course. But you have, on multiple occasions, admonished me against letting the world at large know that I am a pregnant male. Until now, we have accomplished this by concealing the fact that I am pregnant. However, as that is becoming increasingly difficult, it would only be logical to change our tactics and conceal the fact that I am male."

"Benny, it's not that easy."

"On the contrary, Ray, I believe it would be quite simple. The fact that I am pregnant already sends a strong signal of 'woman' to those who see me. All we would have to do is help that illusion along. A bit of makeup, perhaps a change of name--"

"That isn't what I meant. I know you can look like a woman, Benny, you proved that to me nine years ago. But how do we explain who you are, where you came from, or where the other you went? I mean, what about the neighbors? Some of 'em already think something's up. If a strange womana strange *pregnant* womanstarts hanging around here and you suddenly vanish, they're gonna be sure of it. Even if it doesn't clue 'em in to what's really going on, it's definitely going to raise even more questions than strangers seeing you on the street and getting curious."

Ben's lower lip trembled. "Oh. I just thought..."

Ray sighed as he wrapped his arms around his partner. He wasn't going to miss these mood swings. "Shh. It's OK, Benny. It was a good idea, and maybe we should be prepared in case we have to pull it off later. I just think that for right now, maybe it's better if we just let people think whatever they want to, OK?"

Ben sighed pitifully and snuggled into Ray's shoulder. "I suppose you're right, Ray."

They went on holding each other quietly, until Ray became aware of an odd sensation against his stomach. It took him a minute to place it, but suddenly it hit him. "She just moved, didn't she?"

Ben smiled wryly and rubbed at his abdomen. "Actually, she's kicking. Quite vigorously, I might add. You felt that?"

Ray nodded, looking thrilled. "I've never felt it like that before. Just with my hand. It was like... wow. Is that what it feels like to you?"

"The wow part, yes. The actual physical sensation is, I suspect, quite different. Feeling a movement on the outside of one's body is very different from feeling it inside."

Ray looked vaguely disappointed, but he nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I guess it would be. Sort of like the first time we..." he trailed off, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

"Very much like that, actually." Ben smiled. "Or like this." He leaned forward and kissed him gently. He kept it chaste at first, dropping light, dry, nibbling kisses on his lips. Then he switched tactics suddenly, pulling Ray into a long, deep, sensual kiss.

When he'd caught his breath, Ray searched his eyes longingly. "I want to know how it feels to you, Benny. Can you show me?"

Ben shook his head sorrowfully. "I wish I could."

"Then let me learn how you feel."

They undressed each other as slowly as they had the first time they had ever made love. As on that day, the element of sexuality was almost entirely superseded by sensuality and exploration. Ben let Ray take the lead, running his hands over the familiar body that had grown so new and different. He cupped, kneaded, and suckled the small breasts, drawing soft sounds of pleasure from Ben. He caressed the rounded belly, pressing his cheek to the spot where he felt his daughter move, and kissed her reverently. Finally they slept, the three of them curled together, clothed in the golden stripes of late afternoon sunshine slanting through the blinds.

~~~March 23, 2004~~~

"Foot."

Ben sighed and stuck out one sock-clad foot. "Ray..."

Ray slipped the shoe on and tied it carefully, making sure it wasn't too tight around Ben's ankle, since they were beginning to swell when he stood too long. "Come on, Benny. You've been running around the apartment like you're possessed all morning. You need to get outside, get some fresh air and burn off some of this energy. Other foot."

Ben complied. "You don't have to do this, you know."

Ray glanced up at him with a half-smile. "I do if I value my sanity." He double-knotted the lace and stood up, holding out his hands. "Up."

Taking the proffered hands, Ben allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, then stretched slowly as Ray slipped on a jacket.

"I suppose asking if you want your coat would be an exercise in futility," Ray asked over his shoulder, handing off the Stetson.

"Thanks, Ray." He settled the hat firmly on his head. "And no, thank you."

"All right, Tundra Boy. C'mon."

Once in the car, Ben spent a few minutes fussing with the seat belt, trying to arrange it so that it conformed to safety standards without pressing too uncomfortably on his stomach. Finally giving up, he settled back and asked, "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere you want. I was thinking we'd go down to Piedmont Park and walk around there for a while, and then if you get tired we can stop at one of those shops and get a smoothie or something. But anything you want is fine with me."

"Oh, no, that sounds nice, Ray. But, ah, could we stop first? I have to, ah..." He paused and blushed faintly.

Ray grinned as he pulled the car into the parking lot across the road from the park. "One pit stop, coming up."

*****

"Excuse me, ma'am. Ma'am!"

Suddenly realizing that the cashier was speaking to him, Ben spun around. "I'm sorry. Were you--"

She smiled at him. "You were going in the wrong door. That's the men's room."

"Oh, I..." he found himself at a loss for words, unable to either lie or tell the truth. Fortunately, she saved him.

"Don't worry about it, dear. I remember how scatterbrained I got when I was carrying my three."

He returned her smile a little uncomfortably, took a deep breath, and placed his hand on the other door. Offering up a silent prayer that it was unoccupied, he entered the ladies' restroom.

Luck seemed to be with him, as he made it safely to the cubicle and finished his business without anyone else coming in. He was just rinsing the last of the soap from his hands when he heard the dreaded sound of the door opening behind him. His back stiffened involuntarily, and he didn't turn around. He listened to the sound of footsteps crossing tileladies' pumps, most likely three-quarter-inch heels, the back of his mind informed him dully, accompanied by a scuffling sound that he quickly identified as a child's sneakers. He waited until he heard the cubicle door close, then shut off the water and turned to reach for a paper towel.

"Mommy, what's that fat man doing in the girls' bathroom?"

There was an audible gasp from the cubicle. He froze and turned scarlet, and whipped his head around when he heard the door open again. 'Mommy' gave him one look, which he returned with a sickly smile. Then she turned back to her child. "Cherie Scarborough! How could you!? Now look, you've embarrassed that nice lady. I'm really very sorry, ma'am," she said, turning to Ben.

"That's... quite all right," he managed, and fled. As the door was closing, he could hear the woman inside continue her scolding.

"Cherie, I am very disappointed in you. That's no w--" The rest of the speech was mercifully cut off, and he issued a mental apology to Cherie. Tipping his hat to the cashier, who gave him a knowing smile and a wave, he was out the door. Ray stared after him in surprise, and, hastily stuffing his issue of Pure Maple Syrup into the Cosmopolitan rack, he followed.

*****

Ray expected Ben to stop at the car, but he kept going, making it across the intersection just before the light changed. Since it was barely after two on a Tuesday afternoon, traffic was light, and he managed to dash across in pursuit. He found Ben a short distance inside the park, leaning heavily on the back of a bench with one hand as he supported his belly with the other. As he approached, Ben tried to straighten up, then winced in pain. Ray was immediately at his side.

"Are you all right? Here, lie down." He swept some newspapers from the bench with one hand as he helped Ben onto it with the other. "Put your feet up," he added, lifting them. "Are you OK? Is there anything I can do? Should I call an ambulance?" He hovered anxiously, trying unsuccessfully to check his watch to see if fifteen seconds had passed while massaging Ben's stomach.

"No, Ray, it's all right. Just... give me a minute." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. After the second breath, he relaxed and smiled. "There. The pain is gone. See, nothing to worry about."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I'm fine, Ray. Really."

Ray studied him intently, and when Ben met his eyes without flinching, he rested his forehead on Ben's knee and let go of his tension with a sigh. "Thank God."

When he didn't move, Ben laid a hand on his shoulder and brushed his cheek gently with a fingertip. "Ray?"

He looked up and found himself under a questioning blue gaze. He swallowed hard. "Sorry, Benny. I guess I was... God, don't do that to me, all right?" He smiled weakly.

Ben returned the smile. "Sorry, Ray. I didn't exactly intend to."

Ray sat beside the bench with a crunch of pea gravel. "So what was all that about, anyway?" Ben took hold of the back of the bench and began to pull himself upright, but Ray laid a hand on his arm. "No, don't sit up just yet."

"Ray, I'm fine."

"Just humor me, Benny. Please."

With an affectionate glare, Ben settled back onto his side on the hard wood, pillowing his head on one arm.

Ray continued. "So, what gives? We go into the store, you're fine, I go to the magazine rack, you go to the bathroom, and the next thing I know you're running past me and over here and you're so worked up you have an attack. So is this another mood swing, or did something happen in the bathroom, or what?"

Ben smiled ruefully. "A little of both, I suppose. It seems silly, now."

"Hey, you've never let that stop you before."

"I beg your pardon?" Ben asked mildly, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Does 'It was Bing, Bang, Boom, Your Honor' ring a bell? Or tracking a car by sniffing wolf piddle?" Ben looked hurt. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you were right about the shooting, and we found the car. It's just, you gotta admit some of the stuff you do looks pretty silly."

"Hmph." Ben settled back onto his side, shifting a little as the baby moved reassuringly within him.

"Benny, come on. What happened in there?"

Ben stroked his stomach with an embarrassed half-smile. "The cashier mistook me for a woman and helpfully directed me to the ladies' restroom. Once inside, a young girl identified me as a man, and embarrassed her mother, who also thought I was a woman and apologized profusely."

Ray made an unsuccessful attempt to stifle his laughter, and ended up apologizing between chuckles.

"You think that's funny?"

"No... yes... I mean no... sorry, Benny." He managed to stop laughing, but the twinkle didn't leave his eyes.

After a few seconds, Ben's icy blue glare melted, and he smiled. "I suppose you're right. May I get up now, by the way?"

"What? Oh, sure. You don't have to ask my permission, you know."

"Well, you did tell me not to sit up yet, earlier."

"I was worried."

"I know, and thank you, by the way. And regardless of whether or not I need your permission, I will need your help."

"Got it." Ray scrambled to his feet and offered a hand, which Ben took and pulled himself upright. "Ready to walk?"

"Actually, Ray, I'm a bit hungry."

"Anything specific this time, or just in general?"

"Potato chips."

"What?!"

"Potato chips. A fairly popular snack item made of thin slices of potato fried in hot oil, salted, and occasionally seasoned with various flavors, originally known as 'Saratoga Chips' because of the city where they were first made, when--"

"I know what potato chips are, Benny," Ray interrupted finally. "But in all the time I've known you, I have never, ever, seen you eat one."

"I've had potato chips before," Ben said defensively.

"Yeah? When?"

"On multiple occasions."

"Which means what, twice?"

"Three times, actually. The first time was at Innusiq's eleventh birthday party, after he had read about them and asked his father to order them specially through the trading post. They took longer to arrive than anticipated, because the supply trains were blocked by ice and couldn't get through until the next thaw, and since he refused to celebrate his birthday without them, the party was held approximately four months after his official birthday. Then I had them once in Basic Training, and once when Inspector Thatcher assigned me to speak at a local elementary school and I was asked to join the students for lunch in the cafeteria."

Ray grinned. "Oh. I stand corrected. So, what flavor do you want?"

"How many are there?" Ben asked innocently.

Ray's grin widened, and he took him by the arm. "Come on. Let's introduce you to junk food."

*****

"Voila! Potato chips!" Ray announced, with his best Vanna White impersonation. He'd had no intention of letting Ben's first experience of potato chip shopping be limited to the gas station mini-mart's measly selection, so he'd driven them to the supermarket and led Ben to the novel territory of the 'Chips, Crackers, and Snack Foods' aisle.

Ben stopped dead and stared, with an expression that managed to combine equal parts of pleasure, terror, awe, and general confusion. This happened to be one of those massive supermarkets that prided itself on stocking every national brand, plus one or two of its own, and the rows upon rows of brightly colored foil bags made a truly staggering impression. With an effort, he managed to produce a word. "Um," he said.

Ray put a hand on his shoulder. "See anything you like?"

"Um," Ben repeated.

Ray chuckled and dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Tell you what. I've got a few things I need to pick up while we're here, so how 'bout I leave you here and you can take your time and pick out whatever you want. Then I'll meet you at one of the benches over by the pharmacy."

"Um." Ben nodded. "Sounds good, Ray."

"OK, then. See you in a bit. And I recommend the plain Lay's." Pausing at the end of the aisle to watch Ben walk towards the bags and begin to read labels, he headed for the front of the store to pick up a basket.

A few minutes later, the basket contained a carton of milk. He bagged and added three oval "sauce" tomatoes, and on impulse, tossed in a basket of early strawberries, remembering the night they'd first opened the name books and he'd teased Ben about his last name. Coffee filters, he reminded himself, and headed for the opposite end of the store.

It took him a minute to find his usual brand among the six on display, but he finally located a box on the top shelf. As he was reaching up to get it, his eye was caught by a large, bright blue plastic package peeking over the top of the shelves from the next aisle. "Huggies Ultra-Trim," he read. He stared blankly as the realization hit. In a month and a half, he would be buying those. His hand dropped to his side, coffee filters forgotten.

A month and a half. Six or seven weeks, give or take. The delivery was tentatively scheduled for the first week in May, but that would probably change as they got closerlater if the baby seemed to be doing well, in order to give her time to put on more weight; earlier if the oxygen deprivation attacks became serious. Today had been the third, and the worst.

He shook his head, not wanting to think about it. As he did so, he noticed that the diaper package was now facing him, and he wondered briefly who had turned it around. Then he realized that his body had somehow moved without his knowledge, and he was standing in the diaper aisle.

He wandered wide-eyed along the row, picking up packages and reading the descriptions, in unconscious imitation of his partner a few aisles away. Super-absorbent, hypoallergenic, size 2. Great. Two what, he wondered. Weeks? Months? Years? Two feet tall? Why the hell didn't they have a book on this somewhere? Or maybe they did... Benny would know, he thought.

"First time?" The voice startled him, and he dropped the package he was holding.

"Huh?"

The young woman's smile was sympathetic as she lifted a blue-hatted infant from the child seat of her shopping cart and bounced him in her arms. "I know the look. When Nicky here was getting ready to be born, I didn't have a clue what to get for him. We had his nursery all set up, and my sisters gave me a whole boxful of the cutest little baby clothes, but when it came to buying diapers and formula, I was totally lost. They ought to have a book on this somewhere."

"That's just what I was thinking."

The baby fussed a little, and he watched as she took a bottle of orange juice from her bag and offered him the teat. He latched on and sucked greedily. His mother looked up at Ray with modest pride and smiled at his fascination. "You ever feed one?"

He nodded. "My sisters' kids. But it's different when you're going to have one of your own."

"Mm hmm." For a moment the only sounds were the soft slurping noises of the baby in her arms and the tinny voice of the loudspeaker requesting a price check on cheese grits. Then she asked, "So, when is yours due?"

"Beginning of May. Girl," he added.

"You pick a name yet?" Nicky finished his bottle, and the woman stuck it back in her bag and hoisted him to her shoulder.

He shook his head. "We're still working on that one. How'd you pick his?" As he watched, the baby belched, a rivulet of orange drool trickling down his chin.

"We named him for his daddy," she cooed, settling the child back into his seat in the shopping cart and wiping the drool. "Nicholas Joseph Abreo Junior." The child in question smiled, revealing the first hint of a single white tooth, and waved his hands happily.

Ray smiled and nodded vaguely, unable to think of anything intelligent to say. The woman leaned over and picked up the long-forgotten package of diapers from the floor. "Anyway, you don't want these, they're way too expensive." She placed them back on the shelf. She walked a few steps and picked up another package. "These are a lot cheaper and they're just as good. I've never tried the girls' kind, of course, but they're probably about the same." She dropped the diapers into her cart.

"They have different ones for girls and boys?"

She smiled as she began to push her cart. "You've got a lot to learn. Good luck, and congratulations!" she added, and then she turned the corner and was gone.

Ray stared blankly ahead for a moment, then turned back to the shelves. Selecting a pink package that matched the blue one the woman had shown him, he added it to his basket and headed for the pharmacy.

*****

Ben was waiting on one of the padded benches in the pharmacy when Ray found him, three bags of potato chips by his side. One, he noted, was the Lay's Original Flavor he had recommended, one was the store's brand of Salt and Vinegar chips, and the last one he didn't recognize. "Oregon Style All-Natural Dill Pickle Flavored Potato Crisps," he read from the label. And he'd thought Ben had strange tastes when he *wasn't* pregnant. "Find what you wanted?" he asked.

Ben smiled and nodded. "And you?"

Ray nodded wordlessly, setting down the basket to place the chips inside. Ben saw the pink package and pulled it out in surprise. "Diapers, Ray?"

Ray sat heavily on the bench. "Yeah. They were just... there."

His partner gave him a measuring glance, taking in the situation. "Well, it's always good to be prepared, Ray. Though I must confess, I hadn't anticipated using disposable diapers. The cloth ones are much more environmentally sound and often better for the baby."

"Cloth diapers? But then you have to... wash 'em."

Ben looked at him in surprise. "Yes, Ray."

"Eew." He made a face. "Benny, nobody uses cloth diapers anymore."

"Now, that's just not true, Ray. Besides which, even if it were, not all new developments constitute progress. The rise in the incidence of diaper rash since the introduction and widespread acceptance of disposable diapers is truly astounding."

"They leak."

"All diapers leak occasionally, Ray. One must simply take precautions."

"We don't even have a washing machine. And I am NOT running out to the laundromat six times a day while you hide out at the consulate. Don't forget who's gonna be staying home with this baby."

"We'll get a diaper service. And I haven't, Ray."

"Haven't what?"

"Forgotten that you are going to be the one working at home in order to care for our child. I hadn't thought you minded, however. At the time we decided that, you seemed quite excited at the prospect."

"Oh, I am. I just didn't think it would involve washing diapers."

"Well, it won't. With a diaper service, cloth diapers hardly involve more work than the disposable variety, and you get the added benefit of knowing that you are doing the best you can for your child and for the environment."

Unable to think of any more objections, Ray conceded. "Hm. Well, we'll see."

Ben smiled. "Thanks, Ray."

"Sure. I've rummaged through dumpsters for you, this should be a piece of cake."

Recognizing Ray's show of grumbling for what it was, Ben brushed it off. "Shall we go check out?"

"Yeah." Ray pulled himself and Ben to their feet, and picked up the basket with their groceries.

"Oh, Ray, wait. Um, while we're here..." Face flaming, Ben stepped quickly to the pharmacy shelves, selected a small box, and dropped it into the basket. Ray eyed him questioningly. "Witch hazel," he answered the unspoken question. "I, ah..."

After a second's thought, Ray caught on. "Oh. 'Nuff said, Benny. Come on, let's go home."

~~~March 27, 2004~~~

"Everything is looking great," said Dr. Young, making a final note and placing her clipboard to one side. "But now, there's something we need to talk about. I should have thought about it earlier, but it never occurred to me, you being our first human subjects and all." She glanced up to see her patient clutching his partner's hand in a white-knuckled grip, both of them staring at her in alarm. She hastened to reassure them. "Oh, no, don't worry, it's nothing serious. It's just a technicality with the paperwork that we're going to be running into next month. We need to decide what to do about the birth certificate."

"Oh." They both relaxed visibly, and Ray pulled his chair over to the examining table, where he continued to hold Ben's hand loosely. Once seated, he asked, "What about it?"

"Well, as police officers, you know that birth certificates are a matter of public record. The research study that I will be submitting on this pregnancy will have your identities protected, as we agreed in the beginning, to protect the child's future. However, if we then go ahead and write both of your names as her parents on the birth certificate, anyone who looks it up has the chance of turning her life into one big media circus."

"So what other options are there?" Ben asked.

"The best way I can see would be to treat it as an adoption. People will assume that she's been adopted anyway, so we may as well provide the appropriate paperwork and avoid questions. You will both have full legal rights to the child, but there will be the adoption papers there in case anyone does go snooping around in her backgroud. Or, if you prefer, one of you could be listed as the birth father, with the mother's name left blank."

They glanced at each other, then back at her. "Could we get back to you on this?" Ray asked.

"Oh, of course, take your time. This is something that the two of you are going to need to discuss and decide together. And there's no real hurry, the decision doesn't need to be made until the baby's born."

"Thank you kindly for letting us know."

"Oh, no, really I should have realized that this would be a problem and warned you a long time ago, so that we wouldn't have to deal with it at the last minute like this. I really am sorry."

"It's no problem," Ray said, helping Ben off the table. "We'll take care of it."

"All right," she smiled uncertainly, then became businesslike. "Now, Ben, I really want you to watch those oxygen attacks. You say you've had five so far, and they seem to be getting closer together. Are you sure you're not overextending yourself?"

"I don't believe so," Ben replied, his voice slightly muffled by the curtain behind which he was changing back into his street clothes. "However, I will try to do better. Is there any chance that the attacks are doing her any permanent damage?"

"There is a possibility of some slight brain damage if they continue, or if they become prolonged. I'm not seeing any warning signs of it yet, so I think we're OK so far, but I can't overemphasize the importance of you taking it easy. If this keeps going the way it has been, we're looking at having to confine you to bed or at least to a wheelchair for the last few weeks."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Ben replied.

She heard Ray's voice answering him from behind the curtain. "I sure hope not. I'm gonna have to live with you."

"And just what do you mean by that?"

"Hey, Benny, no offense. It's just that you don't take real well to captivity."

"Hmph."

"What? You don't!"

"As I recall, neither do you. Or have you forgotten the gift-wrapped package of earplugs left on my tray by the nurses on the third day we were hospitalized together?"

"All right, all right. Just put your shirt on already. Here."

Smiling, Dr. Young left the room.

~~~April 10, 2004~~~

True to his word, Ben tried his best to do as little as possible. He called Ray if anything needed lifting, walked slowly, and rested frequently. He spent several hours each day lying in bed, rotating from one side to the other as each position in turn grew unbearable. It took him three days to crack.

After a lifetime of chasing animals and criminals on foot through all terrains, in every kind of weather, for days and sometimes weeks at a time, Benton Fraser found his normally abundant energy quadrupled by the hormones of late pregnancy coursing through his veins. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to burn it off.

He walked laps around the apartment, which had suddenly shrunk to about the size of a public bathroom stall, until Ray complained that it was making him dizzy and he couldn't concentrate on his work. After that, he tried to do his walking up on the rooftop patio, but had to give it up when he discovered that walking up the stairs induced an oxygen attack. Remembering a book he had once read on yoga, he spread a towel on the bedroom floor and attempted to lower himself onto it, then had to be helped back up. In desperation, he convinced Ray to take him to the library, where he checked out a pile of books and a few videos on exercising during pregnancy. After a bit of trial and error, he managed to develop a few routines that worked for him, and he practiced them for hours on end, forcing himself to stop every fifteen minutes and rest.

He did the same when Ray took him out to various parks in the afternoons, stopping at every bench they came to. They both enjoyed these walks, circling slowly around the footpaths together in the warm spring sunshine, talking about everything from the wildflowers they passed to possible leads on Ray's latest cases to the probable color of their daughter's eyes. To Ben, they were his strongest connection to sanity, and he prolonged them as much as possible, often lingering until the gathering twilight forced them to return to the apartment.

In spite of his best efforts, however, the oxygen attacks continued. They varied from a slight twinge, when he pushed himself a little too hard in his aerobics, to one serious scare that had Ray's thumb hovering over the clinic's speed-dial setting on his cell phone until the pain went away on the fourteenth second. That one had happened while they were setting up the crib a friendly neighbor had loaned them, when Ben had gotten so involved in the task that he'd forgotten to take his usual enforced breaks. After that, they'd been even more careful.

They brought the subject up at their next appointment with Dr. Young, and she prescribed a mild sedative for Ben to help him relax a bit and relieve his frantic drive for movement. He took one as soon as they arrived at home, and retired to the bedroom for a nap, foregoing even his afternoon walk. That night was Easter midnight mass, and he was determined not to make Ray break with tradition and miss it, so he was saving his energy.

Even with the sedative, he was fighting the urge to pace long before it was time to get dressed. Going to the closet and removing all of his maternity tops, he forced himself to sit on the bed while he went through them one by one, trying to decide which was the most formal. He finally settled on the light blue one, which Ray said matched his eyes. At ten o'clock, he slipped it on and walked out into the dining room where his partner sat at the computer, coffee in hand, idly checking his email.

"Ray? Aren't you going to get dressed?"

Ray looked up, surprised. "Huh?"

"Mass begins at eleven-thirty. It's ten now."

"Benny? Are you sure you're up to it? I hadn't planned on going this year."

"We always go to midnight mass. It's one of the conditions your mother set on my joining the family, remember?"

"Benny, it's OK. You're eight and a half months pregnant. I'm sure both God and Ma will understand."

"Ray, I feel fine. Really. And I've been looking forward to this. Why do you think I've been sleeping all day?"

"Well, if you're sure..." Ray hesitated.

"I'm sure. Go get dressed." After a final pause to see if he'd change his mind, Ray went.

*****

When they'd first moved to Atlanta, they'd attended a Catholic church, but after the first few months, the commute had gotten to be too much for them, and they'd switched to an interdenominational church a few minutes away. Due to the neighborhood, well over half of the congregation was homosexual, and Ben and Ray had been welcomed with open arms. Sunday mornings were usually a blend of traditions, with additional celebrations taken from one or another when they differed.

Tonight's service was done in the Anglican tradition, which was close enough to the Catholic to be familiar, but with enough subtle differences that Ray had to keep a close eye on the prayer book. Ben, who had been raised Anglican, recited it from memory.

They had taken the pew closest to the back door, knowing that the odds were that Ben would have to excuse himself and use the restroom long before the service was over. Everything went well at first. After about half an hour, though, the heat and the heavy scent of incense began to take their toll on Ben, and he grew increasingly light-headed. Determined not to interrupt the service, he summoned all the reserves that had kept him standing sentry for hours at a time in the summer sun, and went gamely on. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply and clenched and unclenched his calf muscles to force more blood back to his brain. The feeling passed.

The crisis came when they stood for the Prayers of the People. Ray heard his voice falter as they responded to the lines read by Father Doris. He gave him a worried glance, but Ben smiled reassuringly at him, and he continued. "For all who work forare you all right?" he broke off as Ben swayed slightly.

"...and peace. Fine, Ray."

"You don't look fine. For the victims of hunger, fearsit downand oppression."

"It's just hot in herefor those who minister to the sick..."

"...the friendless, and the needy-- Benny, I'm not kidding."

"Ray, really, it's just the heat. I'll be all rightand all who seek the Truth."

"Benny, sit down before you fallall who serve God in hisBenny?" Ben had suddenly collapsed into the pew with a thud, and his face had gone alarmingly white. A faint sheen of perspiration had broken out on his forehead.

"Ray, shh, please. I just need some air."

The couple next to them was beginning to look worried, and Ray didn't argue. "All right," he whispered. "Come on." Grateful that the door was only a few steps away, he pulled Ben to his feet, wrapped an arm around his waist, and helped him through it just as the congregation came to the last line.

"Hear us, Lord; for your mercy is great."

Ben managed to hold himself upright until the church door closed behind them. As soon as the latch clicked, he collapsed in Ray's arms with a tiny cry of pain.

"Benny!" Ray clutched at him as he sank down onto the stone steps. He yanked his cell phone from his jacket pocket, flipped it open, and had just dialed 911 when he felt Ben's hand close around his wrist.

"Ray, no! We can't call an ambulance. The paramedics will know."

"Benny, let go!" He could hear the dispatcher's voice crackling on the other end of the line, and he struggled to answer, but Ben's grip held firm.

"Ray. We are only a few minutes from the clinic. The ambulance won't be any faster than the Riviera." Ray stared at him, undecided. "Ray, we don't have time to argue. Get the car. Now!"

Making up his mind in an instant, Ray dropped the phone and took off for the car at a dead run. Stretching as far as possible, Ben picked it up. He hung up on the emergency dispatcher and speed-dialed Dr. Young's pager instead. He closed the phone just as the Riviera screeched to a halt, one front wheel pulled up on the curb at his feet.

Ray jumped out, flung open the passenger door, and helped him down the rest of the steps and into the front seat. Pausing only to buckle him in securely and recline the seat as much as possible, he was back behind the wheel, and with his old police light flashing on the dashboard, they took off down the road.

"I paged the doctor," Ben said, between breaths.

"Good. How's the pain?" Ray took a corner at top speed, flinging out an arm to protect his partner.

"Better." He inhaled and exhaled sharply, massaging his own abdomen gently. "It's just a dull ache now."

"Good. Hang on, Benny. Just... hang... on." He swung the car into the clinic's parking lot, not caring that he was taking up two parking spaces as he cut the motor. He switched off the headlights automatically, but forgot the police light, which cast a weird red glow over everything as he pulled Ben from the car.

Three figures in medical scrubs met them halfway to the door with a gurney, and Ben allowed himself to be loaded onto it without protest, which only worried Ray more. He was whisked down the hall into the body of the hospital and into an unfamiliar room, and the doors were closed, shutting Ray out. He pressed his hands to the cold metal for a moment, then turned around at the sound of footsteps close behind him. Dr. Young was there, her hair pulled roughly back from her face, dressed in rumpled scrubs that looked as though they'd been slept in. He clung to her.

"How is he, Doc? Please."

"I don't know yet, Ray. This could be serious, or it could be nothing. You have a seat out here," she guided him to a chair, "and give me a minute. I'll go find out what's going on, and then I'll come back out here and I'll tell you, all right?" He nodded in agreement, unable to respond, and she turned and hurried into the room, the door swinging shut behind her.

He stared at that door for what seemed like days before it opened and Dr. Young returned. She now wore a surgical mask pulled down around her neck, and her face was serious.

Ray jumped to his feet. "He's all right, isn't he? He's all right. And the baby. They're both all right, aren't they?"

"Shh, Ray, calm down. They're both alive, and the doctors are doing everything they can to make sure that everything is all right. He's had a partial abruption-- that's when a piece of the placenta tears away from the uterine lining, or in this case, from Ben's abdominal wall. Now, in this case we were very lucky, and only a very small piece actually detached. The bleeding has been stopped, and they're both stable. The next few hours, though, are going to be touch and go. If more of the placenta detaches, we'll have to perform an emergency C-section and deliver the baby prematurely."

"Will she live?" It was barely a whisper.

"Her chances are very good. We're going to try to stick it out for the full term if we can, since she's still awfully small for her age. But I've seen smaller ones pull through, and a lot younger. We'll know by morning." She placed her hand on the door. "Will you be all right out here?"

He nodded, and she turned to go. Then he found his voice. "Hey, Doc." She paused and turned back to him. "Promise me one thing. Benny's life comes first."

She looked him steadily in the eyes as she answered. "I promise that we will not do anything to endanger him unnecessarily."

He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and sank back into his chair. When he opened them again, she was gone.

*****
By three o'clock, Ben had been moved up to ICU, and Ray was finally allowed in with him. The shock that had nearly immobilized him earlier had worn off, and he paced desperately up and down the hall, stopping every time he passed Ben's door to peer inside and see if he had woken up. Every so often he would go into the room and sit beside the bed and hold Ben's hand pressed against his lips, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Ben's sleeping face. After a few hours, he noticed that the light was changing, and he got up to watch the sun rise.

Ben stirred, and his eyes fluttered slowly open to see the familiar form of his partner silhouetted against the pale blue and gold of the morning sky. He smiled sleepily. "Ray."

Ray turned to him quickly, the lines of worry on his face rearranging themselves into a smile that made the glowing Eastern horizon seem dark. "Well, he has risen."

Ben made a slight huffing noise and closed his eyes, too tired to laugh at the play on the traditional Easter greeting.

"You want some water?"

Ben nodded, and Ray brought over a glass with a bent straw. He sipped gratefully, then his hand strayed to the mound of his stomach. "Is she...?"

"She's fine. You two scared me last night, though."

"What happened?" He continued to run his hand lightly over the blankets.

"Part of the placenta detached from your abdominal wall. They got the bleeding stopped and the baby's doing fine."

"That's good." Ben took another sip of water, laid his head back on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

"You doing all right?"

"Mm-hmm." Ben nodded and resumed his contemplation of the ceiling.

Ray glanced uncomfortably around him, at a loss for anything to do or say. "I, uh, I guess I should call the nurse or somebody and let them know that you're awake."

"All right, Ray."

With a last lingering glance, Ray stepped out into the hallway. The hospital was beginning to wake up, and he didn't have to go far to find an intern beginning the morning rounds. He called softly, and the intern hurried over. "Is everything all right?"

"I think so. He's just waking up, and I wasn't sure if I should let somebody know, or what."

"Well, you did the right thing." He picked up the clipboard from the rack on the door. "Ah, Dr. Young's pet patient. I'm supposed to page her as soon as he wakes up." He picked up a telephone and dialed a few numbers, then hung up. "She should be here in a couple of minutes. In the meantime, I'll come check him out."

Ray led the way back into the room, and Ben turned his head as they approached the bed. "Hey, Benny." Ben smiled at him and turned his attention to the white-coated figure who now addressed him.

"Good morning, sir," he said over the clipboard as he quickly scanned the pages. "Dr. Young is on her way. I'm Dr. Lane." Finding all the information he needed, he lowered the clipboard and looked at him directly. "So, how are you feeling this morning?"

"Fairly well, actually. Though I would like to use the restroom, if you don't mind."

"You want me to get you a bedpan?"

"Er, no, I'd prefer... I think I can get up."

"Oh, no you don't. Dr. Young would have my head on a plate if I let you get out of that bed without her OK. I can get you a pan, or if you think you can hold it, you can wait and see what she says."

Ben thought hard, biting his lower lip. "I think I'll wait."

"All right. Just let me get a few numbers, then." He wrote down the readings on the various monitors around the bed, took Ben's pulse, and was listening intently through his stethoscope as he measured his blood pressure when the door opened and closed softly and Dr. Young entered the room. Careful not to interrupt her colleague, she walked quietly over to Ray.

"How is he?"

"He seems pretty good. A little quieter than usual, maybe."

"Hmm." Dr. Lane had removed the stethoscope from his ears and was writing down the result on the clipboard. "Morning, Ben, Josh. What have we got?" She took the clipboard from the young man's hands. "Looking good. Thanks, Josh. You can go finish your rounds. I'll take over from here." With a final smile and a nod, Dr. Lane disappeared back into the hall.

"So, Ben, you gave us quite a scare last night. You want to tell me what happened?"

Ben's eyes returned to the ceiling. "I didn't know what was wrong. It didn't feel like the other attacks. I thought it was just the heat. I guess I just... pushed too hard."

"It's all right, Ben. You didn't know. Everything's under control now."

"Will it be necessary to...deliver her prematurely?"

"It's a possibility. I don't think we're going to have to do it right away, though. Her vitals are good, and I think we can stick it out. You might even be able to go home tomorrow, or even this afternoon if we're lucky. However, I'm afraid this does mean you'll have to go on complete bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy."

He nodded his assent. "I have to use the restroom."

"Bedpan or urinal?"

"Can't I, ah..."

"Sorry. Maybe in a couple of hours, we'll see how you're doing and you might be able to make it with a walker. But for the time being, you'll have to stay in bed."

After a mute supplication to Ray, he gave in. "Urinal."

Ben was released from the hospital at four o'clock that afternoon with an array of mild sedatives, an oxygen tank and mask, and strict instructions to use both. They had also received the loan of a bedpan, with the understanding that Ben was allowed to walk to the bathroom as long as everything continued normally. At the first sign of pain, however mild, even that short walk would be off limits, and he would have to use the pan.

Ray helped him from the car to the apartment, silently giving thanks for the thousandth time for the absence of stairs to climb, and to the bathroom, and then settled him in their bed. Propping him up with all the pillows in sight, he made sure that the TV remote, Ben's latest stack of library books, and a bottle of juice were all within easy reach before returning to the car to bring in the rest of the supplies.

Ben lay quietly watching as Ray left, then turned to the pile of library books. He ran a finger down the bindings, reading the titles dully. None of them appealed to him in the slightest, and he dropped his hand back onto the bedspread. Passively allowing himself to be moved by the influence of gravity, he found himself staring straight ahead at the blank television screen. Four workout videos in their brightly colored cardboard sheaths mocked him from the top of the VCR.

He turned blindly towards the sound of the door opening, and Ray staggered in with the oxygen equipment and the bedpan and the box of medication, smiling the too-cheerful smile reserved for the sick and housebound. "Hey, Benny. I kinda feel like a cross between Santa and a pack mule, here."

Ben lifted the corners of his lips in a pathetic attempt at a return smile. Ray set everything down on the dining room table and climbed onto the unoccupied side of the bed. Pulling the unresisting body into his arms, he laid his head on the pillow and gazed into the beloved blue eyes. "Hey." He stroked the dark hair gently, and slowly the emptiness left Ben's face. He kissed his forehead, and Ben closed his eyes and snuggled into his neck with a real smile.

His next words, almost the first he had spoken since they'd left the hospital, were slightly muffled by Ray's shirt. "I'm sorry. I suppose I've just been feeling sorry for myself."

"Hey, it's OK. I'd be feeling sorry for myself too, if I were stuck in bed for the next coupla weeks. You're handling it a lot better than I would."

Ben shook his head, joggling Ray's chin. "Not really. Just more quietly."

"Hey!" He tightened his embrace, absurdly pleased at the joke. After a minute of silence, he added, "So... you, uh, wanna get some sleep or something?"

Ben sighed. "Ray, I have had twenty-seven hours of sleep in the last forty-two. I doubt I could sleep if I tried."

"Oh. Well... what do you wanna do?"

Ben pulled away slightly, rolling onto his back, then back onto his side almost immediately as his daughter's weight pressing down on his internal organs became uncomfortable. He tucked one hand beneath his head and intertwined the fingers of the other with Ray's. His eyes stared blankly at a point several miles beyond Ray's left shoulder. "I don't know. Run a marathon? Swim the English Channel?" He met Ray's gaze and smiled self-mockingly.

Ray returned the half-smile. "How about something the doc won't have my butt in a sling for?"

He sighed again, more deeply than before. "I don't know, Ray. I don't feel like reading, or sleeping, or watching television. I want to do something, but I don't want to do anything. Does that make any sense?"

Ray smiled at him and rubbed his thumb over the back of the hand he was holding. "Yeah, Benny. It's called boredom. Most of us are used to it."

"So, what do you do about it?"

"I dunno. It's just something you learn to deal with, I guess. I mean, how did you keep from getting bored on sentry duty?"

"Sentry duty only lasted four hours at a stretch, Ray, and we were usually working on a case at the time, so I was able to engage my mind by exploring leads and going over evidence in my mind. Now..." he trailed off.

"You want me to check the computer, see if we've got anything?"

"Would you?"

"Sure." He disentangled himself, rolled off the bed, and retrieved his laptop from the dining room. Plugging it in, he resettled himself next to Ben and waited for the system to start up. "Okaaaayyy... we've got... an email from Francesca, looks like I gotta tell her again not to use this address... two spams from Lifeminders.com, this has gotta be the third or fourth time I've tried to unsubscribe from something I never subscribed to in the first place... nope, no new cases. Criminals must be taking Easter off."

Ben grunted noncommittally and took a sip of his juice. "So, what does your sister have to say?"

"Let's see... she says the twins are almost over that cold they were having. Sofia spilled purple Easter egg dye all over herself in her new dress, Tino's starting to look at colleges, and Ma wants to know if it's OK to fly in on the first so they can be here for the delivery."

"Have they decided yet who is coming?"

"She doesn't say, but I'm guessing it'll just be Ma and probably Frannie. Somebody's going to have to stay and look after the kids."

"Mm." Ben tried to stretch out, then recurled. "That will be nice. They might want to consider an earlier flight, however. I'm not at all sure we'll make it to the first."

"You think we're going to have to go early?"

"Call it a hunch, Ray. I just don't think this child is willing to wait that long."

Ray was immediately on full alert. "Is she...?"

"She's fine, Ray. I think our earlier talk about marathons has given her ideas."

Ray grinned and extended a hand, asking permission with his eyes. Ben gave it, pulling up his shirt and proffering his belly. He ran his hand over the curved surface, loving the feeling of movement beneath his fingers.

After a moment, Ben looked up at him and smiled. "See, I told you, she's just fine. But she isn't going to wait three weeks."

"And you?"

"I'll manage somehow."

"We."

Ben covered Ray's hand with his own. "I stand corrected. We'll manage somehow."

~~~April 14, 2004~~~

"Whatcha doin, Benny?" Ray asked, over the pounding strains of Khatchaturian's Sabre Dance.

Ben raised an eyebrow in his direction without looking up. "Three, four, hi Ray, seven, eight, crocheting, link, one, two, did you get what you needed?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He couldn't take his eyes off the line of light green yarn that was slowly being transformed under Ben's capable fingers into what looked like a potholder. There was a small pile of matching, completed potholders on the spread next to him. "Are you, uh... what *are* you making?"

"Nine, ten." Ben finished his row and laid down his work, then reached out and turned down the CD player. "I'm working on a blanket for the baby. What do you think of this color? I wasn't sure, exactly, but I didn't want to use pink and play into the cultural stereotypes of gender identities. So I thought maybe green, as a nice, neutral color..."

"Green's nice." Ray picked up a completed square and fingered the soft material. "Nice work. Where'd you, uh, get the stuff?"

"Mrs. Kobeszko brought it over."

"The one who lent us the crib?"

Ben nodded, resuming his work. "She stayed for quite a while and helped me to make the first few pieces. She seemed grateful for the company; I don't think she's made many friends yet."

Ray hmm'd sympathetically. "She hasn't figured out that you're... you know... has she?"

Ben blushed. "I asked her to call me Jenny. In a way, we were extremely lucky that she didn't move in until I was already obviously pregnant. I still wish that the subterfuge weren't necessary, however."

"Yeah, so do I. I'm surprised none of the other neighbors have been asking questions, the ones that were here when we moved in."

"People will see what they expect to see, Ray. I should think that if they considered the matter at all, they would conclude that either they were mistaken about my gender, or that your wife has a brother who looks remarkably like her and who stayed to help us move in."

"Yeah. It just seems weird, you know, like everybody oughta be able to look at us and know exactly what's going on. It's hard to realize that the rest of the world wouldn't even consider this as a possibility."

"Mm," Ben agreed. After a pause, he asked, "So, am I finally going to see what you've been searching for for the past three days?"

"Ah," Ray hopped off the bed and retrieved the paper bag he'd left on the table. "A surprise. I figured you'd need something to keep you busy while you're stuck in bed, not taking into account the generosity of lonely neighbors, so I got," he ceremonially handed over the bag, "This."

Ben opened the bag and peered inside. "A book?" He pulled it out. The cover was plain white, bordered in silver, with the words "A New Beginning" embossed in silver script. The pages inside were blank.

"It's a baby book. You know how hard it was to find one that didn't have pink and blue storks and balloons and stuff all over it? Fifteen different stores. All the clerks I asked just said stuff like 'Baby stuff is supposed to be cute' and looked at me like I'd grown a second head when I didn't want it. Anyway, you're supposed to write down what it's like waiting for the baby, what's happening, photographs, anything you might want to remember later on. Or anything you think she might want to read about when she's older. I thought maybe we could work on it together, when there's nothing on the computer."

"That's very... considerate of you, Ray." Ben smiled slightly, but his eyes were thoughtful.

"So what's the matter?"

"How are we going to explain this to her? I realize that we are not the only homosexual parents in the world, or even in Chicago, but we will be the only couple with a biological child of our own. Someday, our daughter will ask which one of us is her 'real' father."

"Benny, that's years from now."

"Possibly, but it still bears considering. She deserves to know who she is, and at what point should we tell her? If we tell her too young, she may tell others, but if we wait too long, she may feel betrayed that we kept it from her. It's a potential disaster."

"Benny, can we at least wait until she's born before we start worrying about the teenage years? We'll be fine, just slow down."

"It never hurts to be prepared, Ray."

"Oh..." he gave in. "All right. What are we going to tell our daughter when she asks which one of us is her father? Well, assuming she's already been born and potty-trained and gone to school and learned the truth about Santa and all the other minor hurdles between here and there, I say we just sit her down and say, 'Elisabeth, we'"

"Ray..."

"Oh, come on, Benny, you said you liked Elisabeth."

"I do. It's a good, solid name, with a solid grounding in tradition and plenty of nicknames to choose from. It just doesn't feel right."

"Doesn't feel right... it's a name, Benny, not a new pair of boots!"

Ben looked hurt. "Obviously, Ray. I happen to feel that names are very important. Would you, for instance, feel comfortable being called Lloyd or Bruce?"

"If I'd been called that from birth, sure. But it might have taken some getting used to if my parents had waited until I started shaving to name me."

"Now, Ray, I'm sure that we'll find the perfect name soon. Just be patient."

"Am I going crazy, or did I just tell you that about two minutes ago?"

Ben paused momentarily. "Oh. Yes."

"That does remind me, though, that we never did decide about the paperwork. Both our names go on the birth certificate, but do we want to make up adoption papers for you, or me, or both of us?"

"I don't particularly care for the idea at all, Ray. We are both her parents; pretending that we aren't seems a bit... dishonest. And I'm not entirely convinced that it's legal."

"Oh, come on, Benny. Everyone that counts will know the truth, and I'll give you a hundred to one that nobody else will ever care. This is just about you and me, protecting our daughter from one more thing that she shouldn't have to deal with. It's a precaution. And adoption papers are just something to say that we're legally her parents, which we are anyway, so it's not dishonest. I mean, sure, I'd prefer that we didn't have to pretend either, but it's not that big a deal."

"I'd like to have at least one of us listed as her birth father."

"Agreed. That'll help with the legalities, too. Somebody could make trouble about two men adopting a strange child, but if one of us is the legal father already, it'll be a lot easier. The only question is, who?"

Ben remained silent, absentmindedly pressing his stomach to rearrange a small foot that had been kicking too long in the same spot. Finally, he turned wide blue eyes to Ray, unable to voice a decision.

"It's OK, Benny. God knows, you have a better claim."

"I think... it should be you, Ray."

"Benny..."

"No. Hear me out, Ray. This has nothing to do with who deserves it more, or who has done more for her. Speaking strictly for her protection, you are the one who will be staying at home, and who will be contacted in case of emergency. You are also the one with the large family that will be an integral part of her life, while my only relative is a half-sister who lives in a different country. Should anything happen to us, she will need that family. Noone will question their rights if they are believed to be blood relatives. For you to be known as her adoptive father could weaken that claim, if it should become a legal issue."

Ray looked at him, and Ben met his eyes steadily. "Ok. For her."

"For her." Ben shifted and stuck out a hand, and they shook on it.

*****

"That one? Aw, Benny, come on, I look--"

"Excited. As well you should, Ray, considering that we'd just heard that we were going to be parents. Now, we only have three photographs from this party, and this is the only one we're both in. I think it should be in the book."

"Ohhh... fine, but I get to put in the one of you in the maternity dress."

"Ray!"

"What? You won't let me frame it, and there's no way I'm letting a prime piece of blackmail material like that bond with the dust bunnies forever. If you can put in goofy pictures of me, I get to put in goofy pictures of you."

The look he received was murderous, but he held firm. Ben stuck the party photo into the book and handed Ray the glue. Grinning in triumph, Ray sifted through the pile and extracted the Polaroid taken at the dress shop. Ben's glare wavered as he saw it, a twitch beginning at the corner of his mouth.

"All dressed up and nowhere to go," Ray commented as he turned to a fresh page.

Ben smiled and rolled his eyes, then took a deep breath and pushed himself upright. Reaching for his oxygen mask and walker, he began the trek to the bathroom. "This is one... aspect... of pregnancy... that I... will not... miss." He reached the doorknob and paused. "By my calculations, I have to urinate approximately every one hundred and twelve minutes. It's positively aggravating." He disappeared inside.

Returning to the bed a few minutes later, he asked, "Have you added anything?"

Ray shook his head. "I've been trying to think. Maybe we should each write something, like a letter or something. Or is that too corny?"

"I think it's a fine idea. Should we write them in the book, or separately?"

"I think we should write them on regular paper, seal them up, and stick the envelopes in the book so she can open 'em when she's old enough. Like, maybe we could give her this whole book when she's sixteen, to sort of explain all of this. That'll take care of what we were talking about earlier, about how and when to tell her."

"Mm," Ben agreed. "So these letters, then, will be... private?"

"Right. I won't read yours, you won't read mine. They're just between us and the baby. Whaddaya think?"

Ben raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Do you have any paper?"

*****

The next hour was filled with music and the sound of pens scratching on tablets. Ben wrote slowly, thinking out a sentence and writing it down, then pausing as he thought out the next. Ray wrote more quickly, frequently crossing out what he'd had before and replacing it with something new. Every so often, he would mutter to himself, rip off the sheet, crumple it into a ball, and start over.

"This isn't going to work," he sighed, as the fifth wad hit the trash can. Ben glanced at him mildly. "There's just so many things I want to say, and I can't say any of them the way I want to."

"Just... say what's in your heart, Ray."

"'Say what's in your heart'? What is that, some kind of Inuit advice?"

Ben shook his head solemnly, smiling with his eyes. "Nope. Yours, Ray, almost eight years ago. June 23, 1996, the day you told me you loved me."

Ray blushed and smiled back. "You always remember everything I say?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Hmph. Flattering as that may be, it doesn't help much."

"Maybe this will." He took Ray's hand and placed it over his stomach. "Lie back and close your eyes. Let go of everything but the way she feels, and the way you feel. The words will come."

Ray did as he was told, thoughts flickering over his expressive face. Finally he smiled, opened his eyes, and picked up his pen. "Thanks, Benny."

"Any time, Ray." Ben continued his own writing without a break.

Shortly afterward, Ray carefully detached the sheet, folded it, and sealed it into an envelope, making a face at the taste of the glue. Writing "From Ray," on the flap, he stuck it into the book. "You about done?" he asked.

"Hmm? Almost," Ben replied, tapping the end of his pen against his thumb.

"Hm." Ray sifted through the forgotten pile of photographs that lay between them on the bedspread. Not finding any that he wanted to add to the book, he picked up said book and leafed through it. There was a clipping from a medical journal, the one that Ben had found that had been their first contact with the male-pregnancy experiment. There was a copy, surrounded by stars, of the letter they had received informing them that they'd been selected. Next to it was the photograph he'd objected to, taken at the family party that had followed the arrival of the letter. He and Ben were standing profile to the camera, sticking out their stomachs and grinning like fools. He smiled. Ben had been right to put it in.

A few pages of writing followed, both his and Ben's, describing the arrival of the letter and their own subsequent arrival in Georgia, and their first meetings with the medical staff that had since become such an important part of their lives. There was a brief description of the actual scientific process, written by Ben, and Ray's account of the implantation.

The next page of the book was devoted to a typewritten sheet bearing the clinic's logoBen's test results, confirming that the implantation had been a success and that he was, indeed, pregnant. Then there were a few notes about various events, including their trip back to Chicago at Christmastime, with a long section about the moment on Christmas Eve when Ben had first felt her move. One of the letters was crooked; as if she had known what was being written, the baby had kicked vigorously and caused Ben's hand to slip. Ray circled it and made a note in the margin to remember the story.

There were stories, written with bittersweet humor, of Ben's experiences with being mistaken for a woman. The photo from the dress shop was on the facing page, with the caption "Jenny Fraser." Ray had written the story of the midnight scare at the church and the sleepless night when everything he loved hung in the balance, and the wonderful dawn that followed when he'd found out they were going to be all right.

Their first lists of names were included, with a few tidbits about the naming debates they'd had since. Ray had once suggested naming her Jennifer, "after her mother," and Ben hadn't spoken to him for the rest of the day.

The last few pages were still blank, waiting to be filled with the stories and photos of the delivery. Everything following their return to Chicago would go into a separate album, one that could be shown to everyone, while this one would be hidden away until their daughter was old enough to see it. Sixteen years... Ray fingered the flap of the envelope that was glued inside the back cover. In another few weeks, this chapter of their lives would be closed, not to be opened again for sixteen years.

"Ray?"

He glanced up from his reverie and took the envelope that Ben was holding out to him. Gluing it into place below his own, he closed the book and laid it aside, then leaned over and kissed his partner. Ben kissed him back for a moment, then pulled away.

"Um, Ray, I have to..." he began the process of putting on his mask.

Ray grinned. "Need help?" Ben shook his head and got to his feet, and he sat back to watch, fighting the urge to help anyway. "Just a few more weeks."

~~~April 24, 2004~~~

"Ok, so, you'll come in on Wednesday afternoon for a final checkup, and we'll make sure everything is ready to go for the surgery. Then Thursday evening, you'll come and check into the hospital around six o'clock, and the operation will be performed Friday morning. Now, you know that since this is a history-making case, it will be witnessed by several members of the medical staff from this hospital and others around the country. Ray, I assume you're going to want to be in the delivery room itself, right?"

Ray nodded. "If I can."

"Of course. Now, you mentioned that you had family flying in. I can arrange for one or possibly two seats in the observation room to be reserved for them, or they can wait outside if you prefer."

Ben looked at Ray, who shrugged. "I think Ma would prefer the waiting room."

"I think perhaps that would be best," Ben agreed.

"Ok then. Keep up the good work, and I'll see you on Wednesday."

~~~April 28, 2004~~~

Wednesday came, and Ben was pronounced in perfect health for the operation. Ray took him home, then drove to the airport to pick up his mother and his younger sister. Francesca, as usual, had failed to pack lightly, and the ride to the hotel was filled with good-natured grumbling about the load on the Riv's back tires. The luggage was dropped off, and the three of them descended on the apartment.

"Benton!" Francesca threw her arms around him in an exuberant greeting that reminded Ben vaguely of the way Diefenbaker had behaved as a puppy. Mrs. Vecchio sat beside him on the bed, pinched his cheek, and kissed him on the forehead. The two of them then proceeded to regale him with pregnancy and baby stories until Ray noticed that his partner was beginning to resemble a squirrel caught in the headlights, whereupon he casually mentioned that he was starting dinner. His mother, irrationally convinced that Ray could not cook, immediately excused herself and hurried into the kitchen, taking Francesca with her. Within minutes, they were puttering happily, and Ray escaped back into the bedroom.

"Just like home, huh?"

"Mm." Ben kissed him tiredly. "I think I'm out of practice."

Ray laughed. "I'll try and keep them out of your hair. At least you'll be checking into the hospital tomorrow, so you won't have to deal with them for too long. And then after that, they'll be too interested in the baby to bother you much."

"Oh, they don't bother me, Ray. I'm actually quite glad they're here; it's just a little..."

"Yeah. They do tend to get that way. Just think how it'll be when we get home."

"I remember."

"Hey, maybe we can--"

"Raimondo!" He was cut short by a call from the kitchen. "Where do you keep the oregano?"

He rolled his eyes and kissed the top of Ben's head as he got up. "Duty calls. You need anything?"

"Could you pass me the remote?" Ben asked as he reached for his half-finished blanket.

"You're getting soft," Ray commented as he handed it over. "I may have to ship you back to the Yukon." The ball of yarn bounced neatly off the closing bedroom door.

Dinner was held picnic-style around the bed, with Mrs. Vecchio hovering over Ben and waiting on him hand and foot. Francesca actually volunteered to wash the dishes, for the first time anyone could remember, and her mother let her go while she stayed behind to admire Ben's crocheting. After a few minutes of comparing stitches, she turned to her son.

"Raimondo, go help your sister. I want to talk to Benton."

He glanced questioningly at Ben, who gave him an equally blank look in return. "Ok. Back in a few."

When the door had latched behind him, she laid down the section of blanket she'd been holding and took Ben's hand. "Benton, there is something that I would like to give you. I was not sure if you would find it appropriate, but..."

"If it's from you, Sofia, I'm sure it will be perfect."

She smiled. "When each of my children was born, I gave them a gift. Each the same, so that they would know that they belonged. Here." She released his hand and dug into her capacious purse, extracting a small white box, which she handed to him shyly.

He lifted the lid and folded back pale blue tissue paper. "Oh, Sofia." The tears that had come more frequently in the last few months than in the previous thirty-five years threatened to fall again as he picked up the two gold crosses, identical to the one Ray wore around his neck. The back of one was engraved with the initials "BF;" the other was blank.

"I didn't know what initials to put for the little one. If you accept, I will have it engraved when we return home."

"Accept? Sofia, they're the best gift I've ever been given. Thank you." He kissed her warmly on the cheek, and she beamed.

"Then may I...?" she picked up the engraved cross by its chain and undid the clasp.

"Please." He bent his head, and she fastened the charm around his neck.

"There. And now, I think it is time that Francesca and I go and leave you two alone. You are always so polite, and you never tell us when we are becoming too much for you."

"Sofia, really, I--"

"Shh. It's all right, Benton. We will see you tomorrow, all right? This is a very important time for you, and you should try to relax."

"I... all right."

"Good boy. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Sofia. And, thank you."

"You're welcome. Goodnight."

 ~~~April 30, 2004~~~

"Morning, Ben. Today's the big day, huh?"

Ben awoke from his light sleep with a start. "What time is it?"

"About a quarter to seven. Your family's here."

"Already?"

She nodded as she turned pages on his chart. "I came in about six, and there were two women sitting in the waiting room, and Ray was arguing with the receptionist. I brought them into the lounge. Your mother and sister?"

"Ray's." He watched, puzzled, as she busily wrote on the chart and prepared to take his blood pressure. "Wouldn't this normally be done by a nurse?"

Dr. Young looked up with a wry half-smile. "Normally," she agreed. "It's a big day for me too. Since Dr. Baker will be performing the surgery, I--"

"The head of the department?"

"You remembered. I'll be assisting, as resident expert on male pregnancy in general and you in particular," she winked at him, "but he'll be in charge. That man has performed more unusual and complicated C-sections than anyone I know."

"Mm," Ben grunted around the thermometer. "Thounds like I'll be in good handth."

"The best. So anyway, there's not much for me to do right now, and I needed to keep busy."

"Don't let me thtop you."

She removed the thermometer from his mouth and the cuff from his arm, noted the temperature and pressure, and hung the chart from the foot of his bed. "Looks like everything is just fine. The nurses will be in about an hour from now to prep you for surgery, so you've got a while to wait. Would you like me to send your family in?"

He shook his head. "Just Ray, if you don't mind."

"No problem. Try to relax, and I'll see you at nine."

The door closed softly behind her, and reopened a few minutes later to admit a very nervous-looking Ray.

"Morning, Benny. How're you doing?" He approached cautiously and pulled up a chair.

"Scared stiff. And you?"

"About the same. This is really going to happen, isn't it?"

Ben bit his lip and nodded. "In one hour and fifty-six minutes."

Ray took his hand wordlessly, and they held on tight.

*****

The hour passed quickly, and soon a pair of nurses arrived. With a final squeeze of Ben's hand, Ray allowed himself to be ushered out of the room by the shorter, blond nurse, who took him upstairs and gave him a pair of scrubs to change into. The taller nurse stayed with Ben and began the preparations.

Shaved, scrubbed, sedated, and feeling the first effects of the epidural anaesthetic, he was wheeled down the hallway and into an elevator. They were a few minutes early, and he found himself parked in the hallway with ample opportunity to look around. While he knew of them, he had never been in an operating room built with an audience in mind, and the setup reminded him oddly of a police interrogation room. He noted somewhat selfconsciously that the benches were already nearly full, and he tried to amuse himself by picking out faces.

Several of them he recognized as members of Dr. Young's research team. The young man from the laboratoryBruce, he rememberedwas in the back row, next to Cheryl and Corrinne, one or the other of whom had always given him his lab results and answered their questions. One or two of the nurses who moved efficiently about the operating room, setting out trays of gleaming instruments and positioning equipment, had familiar faces, and after a moment's thought he placed two of the serious figures in white coats with clipboards as Drs. Lys and Toscovic, the other obstetricians at the clinic.

The imposing-looking woman in the business suit who sat front and center, he realized with a shock, was Dr. Anagi, the chief administrator. He'd seen photos... after Dr. Walker, who had retired and left a surgical ward named in her honor, hers was the most prestigious name in the hospital. A flash of red caught his eye, and he thought he recognized his father standing in the back of the room, but the figure vanished and he was never sure if it had been real or a trick of the light and the drugs. The sea of other faces, some vaguely familiar, others wholly strange, began to blur together. He smiled as one face, very familiar indeed, appeared at his side.

"Hey, Benny. You ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be." He formed his hand into the symbol for "I love you" as another pair of strong hands took hold of his gurney, and he was wheeled into the delivery room.

*****

"Scalpel."

"Scalpel."

"Forceps."

"Forceps."

"More suction."

"I've got the head... careful now..."

The words flew by Ray's ears as he sat quietly in his corner, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Ben's right foot where it was just visible through the sea of blue-smocked backs. Finally he caught his breath at the one sound he'd been listening for: the sudden, frightened wail of a newborn. A doctor's voice intoned, "Time of birth: nine-twenty-one AM." Someoneit could have been his mother for all he knewcame over to him.

"Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Vecchio?"

He followed numbly as the crowd parted, and he took in the sight of the crying child, still naked and slippery with fluid, cradled securely in white-gloved hands. A pair of scissors was placed in his hand, and he watched himself cut through the cord where it was held out to him. The scissors were taken away, and he looked around the partition at Ben's face. His eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted in an expression of pure bliss as he listened to the music of his daughter's voice.

"Uh, oh, better watch this one, y'all. Looks like we might have a fainter on our hands." Genial blue eyes twinkled at him above a surgical mask, and he smiled peacefully in return as the world went dark.

*****

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray..."

The voice trickled through his dreams, and he followed it back to consciousness like a bubble surfacing in a pond.

"Ray."

"Hrrum?"

"Ah, good, you're awake."

"Hm? Whahappend?

"You lost consciousness during the operation."

"Operation? It's over? How long was I out?"

"You woke up briefly as they were carrying you out. Aside from that, about forty-two minutes."

"How the hell do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Tell the time like that."

"It's very simple, really, Ray. Our daughter was born at 9:21, which they announced, and you collapsed almost immediately after, which they also announced. It is now--"

"Our daughterBenny, we're parents!"

"Yes, Ray." Ben looked rather smug.

"Parents. Us. You and me."

"Yes, Ray."

"How the hell can you be so calm about this? It's just like when... you do this just to irritate me, don't you?"

"Yes, Ray." Unable to keep a straight face any longer, Ben collapsed back into his pillows, giggling helplessly and clutching at his abdomen, where the anaesthetic was beginning to wear off and his laughter made the incision painful.

Ray heaved himself off of the spare hospital bed and crossed to Ben's, where he made a show of pretending to strangle him. Ben grabbed his hands and grinned up at him through a haze of maternal hormones, and Ray relented and kissed him thoroughly instead.

*****

Ray had been awake for about twenty minutes, by Ben's calculations, when there was a knock on the door and yet another blue-smocked figure appeared. Ray let out a resigned sigh.

"Oh, hello, Alessandra," Ben greeted the nurse.

Ray muttered under his breath, "You can tell them apart?" and received a subtle elbow in the ribs.

"Is everything all right?" Ben continued.

"You tell me. Are you up to a visitor?"

Ray leaped as though he had been stung. "Damn! Ma! I completely forgot... she and Frannie must have practically eaten each other alive by now. Yeah, send 'em in. Benny?"

Ben nodded his acquiescence, the nurse disappeared back into the hall, and they braced themselves for the sudden appearance of a pair of highly excited Vecchio women. Instead, the nurse reappeared, backing into the room with a bassinet in tow. She parked it at the foot of the bed, lifted the tiny blanketed bundle it contained into her arms, turned around, and laughed. The two men were watching her every move with perfectly round eyes, and neither had moved a single non-ocular muscle since the infant had come into view.

"Well? Doesn't anybody want to hold her?"

Instantly they sprang into life, four arms reaching out and two voices clamoring with words of love. She hesitated and glanced from one to the other, then moved forward and carefully laid her burden in Ben's arms.

The hands that had been confident and sure as they comforted and cared for a child abandoned in the backseat of a car, that had been calm and steady as they wiped the waters of birth from the mouth and nose of an Inuit child in the lee of a snowbank, trembled as for the first time he pulled his own close to his chest. Ray shifted carefully to face them and laid his hand on Ben's arm where the tiny head rested, completing the circle. The nurse watched them for a moment and then, satisfied that all was well, she slipped away unnoticed.

A solid five minutes passed without a sound, spent in happy contemplation of wrinkled red face and wispy dark curls and tiny starlike hands. A wide yawn that seemed ready to swallow itself whole made Ray's hand tighten convulsively, and Ben nudged his hip in acknowledgement. Finally finding a voice, he breathed, "She's beautiful, Benny."

Ben nodded, never taking his eyes off the child in his arms. Suddenly his head snapped up, with a smile that said he had just been handed the keys to the world, and one word on his lips. "Abigail."

Ray was startled out of his own near-trance. "What?"

"Abigail. Her name. It means, 'her father's joy.' What do you think?"

Ray looked down again, brushing a little hand with one finger and smiling in wonder as it clasped the end. "Abigail," he murmured. "Abigail. Abbie." He raised his eyes with a smile that matched Ben's own. "It's perfect."

"So is she."

*****

Abigail Vecchio Fraser spent another half hour alone with her parents, effortlessly keeping them entertained through the arduous task of sleeping. At the end of that time, they were interrupted, and she graciously consented to amuse her grandmother and aunt as well.

The two women were a bit surprised at her name, but approved it wholeheartedly when they heard its meaning, then fell to exclaiming softly in an ecstasy of admiration. A consensus was reached that Abbie was in possession of ten fingers and ten toes, had Ray's forehead and Ben's nose, and was altogether wonderful. She was also, it turned out, possessed of the Vecchio voice, as she opened dark blue eyes, screwed them shut again, and screamed.

Ben lifted her to his shoulder and rocked and soothed, but to no avail. Seeing his panicked expression, and recognising that Ray was just as flustered, Sofia unhesitatingly broke the solemn promise her son had extracted from her not to offer unsolicited advice. "She is only hungry, poor bambino."

Instead of the reproachful glare she'd expected, Ray only looked relieved, and Ben vaguely grateful as he lifted the wailing baby from his shoulder and spoke to her softly. Inspection of the basinette yielded nothing, so the call button was pressed and a nurse came hurrying. Francesca met her at the door and explained the situation, and the nurse left to fetch a bottle.

It was Dr. Young who brought the bottle a few minutes later. She was still wearing her surgical scrubs, and explained briefly that the post-operation surgical conference had just broken up as she handed it over. She reintroduced herself to Sofia and Frannie, then asked to speak to Ben and Ray alone.

"Of course," Sofia answered. "Raimondo, don't worry about driving us back to the hotel. We will take the bus. Benton, te amo, take good care of my granddaughter, and we will see you tomorrow." She leaned over the bed to receive her customary peck on the cheek from each of her sons, then kissed her fingers and pressed them to the now-quietly-feeding Abbie's forehead.

Francesca took her place as she moved toward the door. "Goodbye, Ray," she said, hugging her brother. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, Frannie. Hey, I'll come see you guys at the hotel in a couple hours, OK?"

"No hurry." She turned to Ben with a one-armed hug and a kiss. "Congratulations, Benton." She wiggled her fingers at the baby. "Bye bye, Abbie."

Ben looked up at her with his million-watt smile. "Thank you kindly, Francesca."

With an answering smile, she followed her mother out of the room. Dr. Young watched them go and carefully shut the door behind them. Pulling up a chair, she sat by the bedside and pulled out the everpresent pen and clipboard.

"So, how is your recovery coming along? Everything all right?"

Ben looked at her blankly. "Fine."

"No pain from the incision, nausea, lightheadedness?"

He shook his head, shifting slightly to prop his daughter a little more upright.

"Now, you called for a bottle... have you noticed any signs of lactation?"

Ben looked up, startled. "I... what kind of signs?"

"Swelling, tenderness, discharge."

"Er..." he stared down at his chest. "They do seem a bit..."

"I suspected they might. Your last blood test, taken just after the operation, showed trace amounts of prolactin and oxytocin, the primary hormones of milk production. They're produced in the pituitary and aren't dependent on the ovaries like the estrogen and progesterone you've been taking throughout the pregnancy. My guess is, if you put her to the breast a time or two, you can probably induce lactation." She stopped to gauge their reactions, and as she had expected, Ray looked vaguely skeptical while Ben appeared intrigued.

"What do you recommend?" Ben asked.

"As a doctor, I must say that in most cases, breast milk is far better for a baby than formula. In the first few days especially, it provides vital antibodies that strengthen the immune system and will make her stronger and healthier. If you think you're up for it, Ben, I'd say go for it."

Ben looked at Ray, who shrugged. "It's your body."

He turned back to the doctor. "All right. How?"

"It's not very complicated. She seems to be finished for now," she said, noticing that Abigail had released her bottle. She watched approvingly as Ray gave Ben a conspiratorial grin, picked up the baby, lifted her to his shoulder and began to pat her back. Ben smiled back as though this were part of some inside joke, and she decided not to ask. "Anyway, the next time she's hungry should be about three hours from now. When that happens, put her to your breast and let her suck. If nothing happens after about a minute, give her the bottle and try again next time. It's the sucking that triggers your body's response, so it may take a few tries. You'll probably always have to supplement with the bottle, and I suggest you wean her before you leave Atlanta, but if you can keep it up for a couple of days or weeks, I think it'll do her a lot of good."

"Thank you kindly."

"No problem. Anything you need, just hit the buzzer. I'll be back in a couple of hours and check you over before I leave for the night. If everything goes well, you should be able to go home tomorrow."

"'K. Thanks, Doc," Ray said, as he walked back and forth with the baby. Abigail had already burped, but he continued to sway with her, and gradually the movements evolved into a dance of joy.

~~~May 1, 2004~~~

"All right, Ben, you're a free man. Sign here, guys, and you can go." Ben took the form and signed it, then held the clipboard so Ray could sign without putting Abbie down. Dr. Young took it back and removed a sheet of paper from the sheaf on the board. "Here are your post-op instructions. We've been over them all before, so you know the drill. Keep the incision clean, avoid undue exertionalthough after what you've been through the last couple of weeks, that should be easy. No more complete bed rest, no more walker, no more oxygen, unless you think you need it. You can get up and walk around as much as you want, just don't push yourself too hard. Let Ray get up for the 2 AM feeding."

The three of them smiled at each other, and Ray lifted the little bundle from his shoulder to smile into sleepy blue eyes. "I can do that," he murmured to her. Without looking away, he added to the two adults who sat watching, "But I expect payback at diaper time."

They made quite a procession on the way out. Two nurses formed an advance guard to open doors for Ben, who was being pushed in his regulation wheelchair by Dr. Young, and Ray, who was carrying Abbie and the diaper bag. Six other assorted members of the clinic's staff brought up the rear, some under the guise of helping to carry things and the rest just to see them off. By the time they were loaded up and ready to go, there were nine small gifts piled up beside the carseat in the back of the Riv.

For the first time in his driving career, Ray stopped at every single stop sign and three yellow lights.

*****

Upon their arrival at the apartment, Ben reveled in the simple act of walking through the door under his own power. His legs were still slightly weak from the weeks of enforced disuse, but it felt wonderful to use them again. Bending over was a bit of a problem, though, and he didn't protest when Ray suggested that he stay inside and watch the baby while he brought in the rest of their things.

Taking her into his arms and smiling to himself as she snuggled into his shoulder, he walked slowly around the small apartment. The newspaper lay unfolded on the kitchen table beside a mug containing half an inch of coffee. He imagined Ray checking his watch and bolting out the door without putting them away when he realized it was time to pick the two of them up. He bestowed a soft kiss on his daughter's ear. "He was just so eager to come and see you," he whispered, and she yawned into his neck.

Wandering back through the dining room, he trailed a finger over the closed lid of Ray's laptop, then opened the door to the bedroom. He was met by a profusion of pink. Pink crepe paper streamers festooned the bed, the television, the chair, and every other conceivable object. Pink ribbon bows decorated the four corners of the cribsafely positioned, he noted, with the trailing ends outside and well out of reach of small hands, even if those hands had been strong and controlled enough to reach for them already. A banner reading "Happy Birthday, Abigail" in bright pink lettering was swagged over the top of the window. Ray couldn't have... could he?

The sound of the front door opening alerted him to Ray's presence, and he turned. Carefully closing the bedroom door behind him, he asked, "Ray, did you... um... did you..." he gestured vaguely at the closed door.

Ray set Ben's overnight bag on the floor and glanced up at him with a puzzled expression. His face suddenly cleared, and he turned his attention to emptying his pockets of the stuffed animals from the clinic staff. "Oh, yeah. I didn't have much to do yesterday after they sent me home, since you were in the hospital and Frannie and Ma rented a car and went shopping, and I figured you'd appreciate it. I wasn't sure you'd notice, though."

Luckily, Ray was concentrating on dislodging a pink stuffed rabbit that was stuck in his waistband, and Ben was able to trade his initial disturbed expression for a weak smile. "Um, yes, thank you, Ray. That was very... thoughtful... of you."

"Anytime, Benny." The rabbit successfully removed, Ray bent and picked up the overnight bag, opened the bedroom door, and stopped dead. "What the he--" He bit the expletive short with a sideways glance at his sleeping daughter, then stepped cautiously into the room, looking around him with the expression of a man who has just seen his mother turn into a giant flying blue chipmunk.

Ben followed him into the room. "Does this mean that you didn't...?"

Knees suddenly weak, Ray sat on the end of the bed. "Benny, I had no idea."

Ben closed his eyes in sheer relief and shut the door. Immediately, Ray was on his feet again, grabbing the cluster of pink balloons that had been floating behind it. Suspended from the strings, he found Ben's key to the apartment and the most sickeningly cute "It's A Girl!" card either of them had ever seen. Inside, they read "Gotcha. Love, Frannie" and "Vi amo, bambinos. Ma."

"I'm going to kill them." Ray fought hard to suppress his laughter. "I swear, I'm gonna kill them."

Ben glanced around the bright pink room. "I'll hide the bodies." He met Ray's eyes, and they both gave in. Their laughter woke Abigail, who opened wide blue eyes that focused briefly on the world around her, then began to cry, which made them laugh harder.

Ray put his hand on her back and rubbed in soothing circles as he caught his breath. "I know, babe, it's awful, isn't it? You and I and Benny will have to get Aunt Frannie back for that one. Hey, you hungry?" He looked up at Ben. "I'll go heat up a bottle. You wanna...?"

Ben nodded wordlessly, and he headed for the kitchen. Looking back on the way out, he watched quietly as Ben sat on the end of the bed with his daughter in one arm and began to unbutton his shirt.

*****

"Now there's a picture." Ray paused in the bedroom doorway, the bottle of warm milk he had gone to fetch in one hand. Ben was sitting on the edge of the bed, light blue shirt unbuttoned and his daughter at his breast. Ray kissed him on the cheek and sat beside him. "You are the strangest man I know."

Ben looked up at him and smiled. "It's not unheard of, Ray. Inuit legend is full of stories wherein an infant is found and nursed by a man, usually an elder of the tribe. The child usually grows up to become a great hero."

"Hm. You getting anywhere?"

"I think so. Not much, but it will increase with time. However, I believe she's getting frustrated, so you'd better feed her." He carefully detached Abbie and handed her over to Ray. She latched onto the bottle with a small satisfied noise, and he smiled wryly. "I feel a bit foolish."

"What? Why? You heard what the doctor said, how it's better for her if you can... you know."

"Hmph. Yes." He watched as she drank, not entirely quietly.

"I'm actually kind of jealous."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's crazy, and I never would've believed it before now, but yeah. I'm jealous. I wish I could... you know."

"Oh." Ben slowly rebuttoned his shirt.

"So, um, what's it like?"

His hands stilled on the buttons. "I don't know how to describe it. I suppose objectively, it's actually somewhat painful. It aches a bit and my nipples are becoming raw. Subjectively... subjectively it's like nothing on earth. I'm sorry, Ray. I can't." He did up the rest of his buttons efficiently.

"Hm. Another opportunity lost. Hereyour turn to burp."

"Oh, no. You... you go right ahead. Wouldn't want you to miss out," he said with a perfectly straight face.

Ray glared at him, but draped the cloth over his shoulder. "Thanks," he said drily. "I get the fun jobs."

"Well, I'm sorry, Ray, but there are some things which of necessity you cannot share. So I thought, in the interests of equality..." This time he made no attempt to hide the twinkle in his eyes.

"Equality? You get to put it in, I get it when it comes back out? Gee." Abbie belched, and he lifted her and carefully wiped her mouth with a corner of the cloth. "Look, uh, I'm gonna put her down for her nap, and then can we do something about this room? I feel like I've been swallowed by a whale."

Once Abbie was asleep, they put Mozart on the stereo, turned the volume down low, and got down to the serious task of de-pinking the room. The crepe paper went into the recycling bin, and they gave the balloons to a couple with three children who lived on the second floor. They left the "Happy Birthday" banner above the window; it could be folded and tucked into the album later.

The phone rang, and Ben answered it after pulling a pink bow off the receiver. "Hello? Ah, hello, Francesca. Yes, we did receive your... surprise. Yes, um, thank you. It's very...very pink." Ray heard the tinkling sound of laughter coming through the phone, then a voice, apparently asking a question. "Yes, that would be very nice." Ben glanced at his watch. "Four o'clock would be fine. We'll see you then. Thank you kindly. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and tossed the wadded-up bow to Ray, who lobbed it neatly into the recycling bin.

"They're coming over?"

Ben nodded. "Four o'clock. They've offered to cook dinner. I didn't think it would be polite to refuse."

"You're learning. I'm not sure we've got any food, though."

"I believe they were planning on bringing the necessary supplies."

"Oh. Good. We do have dishes and stuff, anyway. While you were in the hospital, I think I washed everything we own."

Ben smiled. "By the way, what was the surprise you had for me? Before you saw the room, you mentioned that you had done something during your free time that you thought I would appreciate."

"Oh, yeah. I got rid of those four workout videos of yours."

"Oh." Ben glanced at the overflowing recycling bin. "Thank you kindly."

Ray followed his gaze. "Did you actually think I did all that?"

"I most sincerely hoped not. I must confess, however, that for a moment I did have my doubts."

"You're kidding. You actually thought that I would do something like that. And think you'd appreciate it."

"I was afraid that perhaps you had hit your head when you fainted yesterday morning."

Ray laughed. "Benny, there's no force in the world that could hit me in the head that hard."

Ben smiled in relief. "Good."

Ray wrapped his arms around Ben's waist. "You realize you're going to have to be punished for doubting me. After you've recovered from the surgery, of course."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "I haven't had a good workout in weeks."

"We'll have to remedy that."

Ben stopped smiling long enough to be thoroughly kissed, readjusting to being embraced without a large barrier in between. He pulled away with a thoughtful expression. "You know, there's a lot to be said for not being nine months pregnant."

*****

Ben groaned slightly and tried to stretch his back without unduly disturbing Abbie, who was working, eyes screwed shut in an expression of intense concentration, on his left breast. Much to his relief, she seemed to be making progress, and he was beginning to relax and enjoy his new ability.

He shifted his aching back again and stretched his arms one at a time. Having proved to himself that breastfeeding on a bed in almost any position was a mistake, he was trying out the armchair. It was a little better, but he was forced to sit just a little too upright for comfort. He found himself having wistful fantasies about the reclining seats in the Riv, and was beginning to seriously contemplate sneaking out to the parking lot when he heard a knock on the door, followed by the click of the latch and Ray's voice welcoming the visitors. A rustle of paper bags and two feminine voices confirmed that Mrs. Vecchio and Francesca had arrived.

There were the general sounds of greetings and arrangements being made for the food, and then he caught his own name, and the indistinct murmur of Ray's answer. "room, feeding Abbie," came the last half quite clearly, as the bedroom door swung open.

Ben looked up and froze. Francesca's eyes, perfectly round, stared back at him from the doorway. They stared at each other without blinking for about fifteen seconds, until the sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen galvanized Francesca into action, and she slammed the door shut before her mother could arrive.

The noise startled Abbie, and she released Ben's nipple and began to cry. He couldn't interest her in continuing to suck, so he quickly buttoned his shirt with one hand and began the project of standing up. Ray had waited for him to arrange himself in the chair before handing him the baby, and he found that getting up with her in his arms was even more of a challenge. He managed it in the end, however, and with a bit of careful maneuvering settled her in the center of the bed without bending at the waist. Habit made him tuck in his shirt, but when he went to the mirror to straighten his hair, he found that it emphasized his already noticeable bust. He reluctantly untucked. Francesca had already seen him in less than perfect attire, and with Abbie in his arms, Sofia probably wouldn't notice. Another straight-backed gymnastic feat retrieved Abbie from the bed, and he took a deep breath and went to face the kitchen.

Sofia was immediately upon them, kissing him on the cheek and appropriating both the burping cloth and the baby as she admonished him to sit down and stop trying to do so much so soon after surgery. He smiled politely and obeyed, deciding not to explain that standing didn't hurt; it was only the act of getting that way, or of sitting down, that was the problem.

Ray hurried over and gave him an arm to lean on, whispering as he did so, "How's it going?"

"Very well, actually," he whispered back. "It's increased quite noticeably from the last time." Ray smiled and stood up, and Ben glanced over at his sister-in-law, who was busily engaged in not looking at him. As he watched, she snuck a peek out of the corners of her eyes, then flushed and looked away guiltily. He reddened slightly and turned away himself, and got involved in a conversation with Sofia.

Abbie was passed from hand to hand as the three Vecchios elbowed one another around the kitchen, bickering amiably, and Ben sat at the table with the sedentary task of grating cheese. Finally there came a lull as everything was simmering nicely and there was nothing much to do but wait and talk. Ray was holding the baby, and he and his mother were happily admiring her. Francesca slipped away from them and walked over to Ben, who was watching them with a faraway half-smile.

"Um, Benton, can we, uh, you know, talk somewhere?" she asked, with a glance at her mother.

He followed her eyes. "Of course," he answered politely, dreading the conversation ahead.

She offered him a hand and he took it, pulling himself upright. "The twins were a C-section," she said. "I remember how that feels."

Ray looked up as they left the room, and Ben gave him a smile that was more reassuring than he felt. After a moment's contemplation of the hard straight-backed chairs in the dining room office, he led her into the bedroom, wishing for the first time that they had rented an apartment with a living room. Since they'd kept mostly to themselves here, they'd never needed one, and this small apartment with its single large bedroom had been cheaper. He allowed himself to be helped into the armchair with a small sigh.

Francesca paced distractedly in front of him. "Look, I... I'm sorry I walked in on you."

"That's quite all right."

"So, um, were you, uh..." He looked at her questioningly. "When I walked in, it looked like you were..."

"Oh. Ah." He cleared his throat. "Yes."

"Oh." She nodded. "Um, wow. I didn't know that was even possible. I mean, I know with this whole thing, I didn't think any of it was possible and nothing should be... wow."

"Yes."

"So, uh, is this like some weird chemical thing, or what? I mean, with the drugs and all that."

Ben took refuge in science. "It's partially a side effect of the hormones I was taking during the pregnancy. I'm still taking them, actually, although the dosage is being slowly reduced. The original development was induced by the estrogen and progesterone several months ago. The actual, er, lactation, however, is a natural reaction, not drug induced."

She pursed her lips slightly and nodded. "Oh. Look, um, I just wanted to apologise for walking in on you and all."

"No apology necessary."

"Thanks." She turned her head toward the bedroom door as though searching for a way out. Then she seemed to change her mind and turned back to him. "Um, I noticed you were doing it in the chair. Does that work for you? I mean, not to get too personal, but I know I could never stand to do it in a regular chair."

"Now that you mention it, it does hurt my back a little," he admitted.

She rolled her eyes. "A little? God, my back was killing me the time we went to stay with Matthew's parents for a couple of days and all they had were these horrible stiff, formal chairs it was impossible to lean back in. My arms, too. If I'd known you were going to need it, I would've passed on the family rocking chair. Ma's had it as long as I can remember, and she gave it to Maria when Tino was born, then Maria gave it to me when I was pregnant with Rosie. When we go set up your apartment, I'll make sure to bring it over."

Ben was touched. "Thank you kindly, but I don't think... we were planning to wean her before we returned to Chicago."

"Oh. I guess you would... I mean, you couldn't really be a Mountie if you had to stop and pump every couple of... hours." She glanced at his chest as she realized what she'd said, and to whom, then quickly looked away, blushing furiously.

Ben got a sudden mental image of himself in full dress reds, buttons straining across the chest, excusing himself from a formal diplomatic function. He felt his face burning, then began, unexpectedly, to laugh. Francesca slowly joined in, and the last bit of tension between them dissolved. In the middle of their laughter, a summons came from the other room, and they rejoined the family for dinner.

~~~May 2, 2004~~~

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That."

Ben listened carefully in the darkness. "She moved her foot."

"Oh."

There was silence for a few minutes, then Ben's eyes flew open. "Ray?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't hear anything."

"She's probably asleep, Benny. Like we should be."

"Probably... ah, there, she moved her left hand."

"Mm. Good."

They both feigned sleep for another five or six minutes.

"Benny?"

"Hmm?"

"D'you think she's kicked off her blanket?"

"No."

"How do you know? Can you hear the blanket?"

"No, but..."

"I'm gonna go check."

"Ray, we've already checked on her four times since you fed her an hour ago."

"Come on, Benny, you know how fast babies get cold." Ray was already throwing back the covers, so further objections were pointless.

Ben lay back and squeezed his burning eyes shut. Three-thirteen in the morning and neither of them had slept at all. He yawned, and heard Ray lift Abbie out of her crib. "Ray?"

"Yeah, Benny?"

"Just bring her back to bed with you. She can sleep with us."

"Is that safe? One of us might roll over on her."

"That's highly unlikely. The body automatically adjusts to the presence of another living being in one's bed, which is why we don't accidentally roll over on each other. And actually, many doctors and scientists believe that it is safer for an infant to sleep with its parents. It lowers the risk of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, or what used to be called, rather aptly, 'crib death.'"

Ray had nearly stopped breathing himself at the word "death," and was back in the bed, with Abbie, before Ben finished his sentence. Ben smiled and scooted over to make room in the center of the bed.

"Here. Put her on top of the sheet, like that." He waited while Ray tucked the blanket around her, then leaned over and kissed the top of her head, then Ray. Ray's hand joined his where it lay protectively over the small mound of blankets between them, and they settled in to sleep.

An angry scream rent the early morning silence, and two heads shot up off their respective pillows. Ben tried to sit up quickly, but collapsed back onto the bed when his injured abdominal muscles protested the movement. By the time he managed to roll onto one elbow and push himself upright, Ray had Abbie cradled against his shoulder and was attempting to soothe her. The glowing red numbers on the clock beyond Ray's dark form read three forty-two.

Ben yawned and laid a hand on his daughter's back, adding his own murmurs to the attempts to quiet her. "What's the matter?"

"Needs changing," Ray answered. "I'll take care of it. Can you hold her for a minute?"

"Sure." Ben sat up completely and held out his arms, wrinkling his nose involuntarily as she was handed over.

Ray threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed. He switched on the lamp over the changing table, blinking in the sudden brightness, and pulled out a fresh diaper, then returned to the bed. "Ok, cara," he whispered as he lifted her, still wailing inconsolably, from Ben's arms. "C'mere. Shh, it's okay." He talked to her all the way to the table and the cries began to subside, only to begin again with renewed vigor when he laid her down. He sighed and pulled open the diaper tape. "Pugh! God, Benny, are you sure you still want to switch to cloth diapers when we go back home? It's bad enough to have to change this without having to save it."

"It's better for her, Ray. And for the environment."

"Ugh. It's still disgusting." He cleaned and powdered the tiny bottom efficiently from long practice, and taped a new disposable diaper in place. He lifted the crying baby to his cheek. "Shh. There you go, all clean. Shh." He walked with her, bouncing slightly. "Go to sleep, so your daddy and I can." He gave Ben a quick tired smile, which was returned, then switched off the lamp. He heard the rustling noise of Ben carefully settling himself back into the bed, and renewed his efforts as he walked in the darkness and tried not to bump into anything. "Shhh... shhh... you know, babe, you're giving me a whole new appreciation of how great it was being an uncle."

Abbie produced a particularly powerful scream at this, and he adjusted his grip and kissed the top of her head. "Shh. Yeah, I know, I wouldn't trade you for anything, even sleep. But do ya think we could work out some kind of compromise?"

"Perhaps if you sang to her," Ben suggested.

Ray turned toward the dark mass that was his partner. "I don't sing."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Oh, come on, Ray, I'm sure I've heard you sing. In the shower."

"That doesn't count. Under American rules, singing in the shower isn't singing."

"It isn't?"

"No." He turned his attention back to his daughter.

"Oh. Well, it was only a suggestion."

"I don't sing," Ray repeated. "Thanks," he added, as an afterthought. He sighed and yawned, continuing his walking and murmuring. Gradually the screams gave way to quieter, hiccuping sobs, then finally to silence. After a minute or two of simply enjoying the feeling of the small face pressed into his neck, he made his way carefully back to the bed. Settling her gently into her place between them, he crawled back between the now-cold sheets and was asleep before they lost their chill.

*****

Ray worked frantically at the device in his hands, turning it over and over, searching for the button that he knew was there. It was a police siren, dammit, he'd been dealing with them for years, he'd thought he could turn them on and off in his sleep. He fiddled with it uselessly as the wailing went on and on.

Ben slid one eye open wearily and blinked when the room proved to be filled with grey early-morning light. Rolling over with difficulty, he noted that Ray was muttering to himself and twisting his pillow. He yawned, pushed himself upright, and lifted his screaming daughter to his shoulder. His nose informed him that her diaper was clean, but wet. He talked to her softly for a minute, then laid her back on the quilt as he worked his way off the bed.

Scooping her back into his arms and standing up with a grunt, he shuffled over to the changing table. The soggy diaper was removed and dropped into the bin, and he dried and powdered her with care, if not exactly skill. She quieted down a bit under the attention, and a quick glance told him that Ray had also stopped fidgeting and was now sleeping peacefully. With a wistful sigh, he turned back to fasten the other half of the fresh diaper, just in time to watch as Abbie, with a look of intense concentration, filled it. He groaned softly and started over.

Finally clean, dry, and quiet, she was unfortunately also wide awake. Giving up for the moment on the hope of further sleep, he picked her up and shuffled into the kitchen. The clock on the microwave read 7:10; she'd be getting hungry soon. The thought reminded him of his own stomach, and he started some water for tea. Searching for something to do while it heated, he wandered back over to the sink, where he used his free hand to splash some cool water over his face and dry himself with a dishtowel. In lieu of a shower, it was the best he could do.

The teakettle and the baby screamed at the same time. Quickly switching off the heat and moving the kettle to a cool burner, he devoted his attention to his daughter. Setting her carefully on the tabletop and steadying her with one hand, he lowered himself into a chair and removed the undershirt he'd been sleeping in. He offered her a nipple, and smiled when she took it eagerly. He could get used to this.

He was just switching her to the other side when Ray came in, yawning and scratching absentmindedly at a stubbled cheek. "Mornin,' Benny." He picked up the kettle, frowning in puzzlement when it proved to be warm. "D'ju start this?"

Ben nodded. "I didn't have time to finish, so I just took it off the burner."

"Mm." He turned the heat back on, then set their mugs on the counter and got out the instant coffee granules he kept for days when he needed caffeine faster than the machine could get it to him. "Chamomile, peppermint, Earl Grey, or Darjeeling?"

Ben mentally scanned the list of Things to Avoid While Breastfeeding. "Chamomile," he answered, and Ray dropped the proper teabag into the red mug. The kettle began to sputter, preparatory to beginning its whistle, and he poured boiling water into both cups. Setting Ben's within easy reach on the kitchen table, he sat down and cradled his own, enjoying the warmth.

"So, how long you been up?"

"A little over half an hour."

"You don't know it to the minute? You must be tired."

Ben responded with a weary smile as he reached for his discarded undershirt and draped it over his shoulder. He lifted Abbie, who seemed to have finished her breakfast, onto it and began to pat her back.

Ray gulped his mouthful of coffee and set down the mug. "Hey. Let me take care of that, you've been doing everything else while I was asleep."

"It's no problem, Ray."

"No, I know. But you fed her, and I'm guessing probably changed her, so let me burp her and then I'll see if I can get her to take a nap. You go shower and get dressed. Then maybe we can see about some breakfast."

Ben relinquished his charge and took a sip of his tea. Noticing that it had cooled to the perfect temperature for drinking, hot enough to almost, but not quite, burn his throat on the way down, he finished about three-quarters of the mug before he attempted to stand.

"You remember to take your pain meds this morning?" Ray asked, noticing his grimace.

Ben shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Take 'em anyway," he admonished the retreating back through the kitchen doorway.

Fifteen minutes later, Ben emerged from the bathroom pink and damp but unshaven, dressed in sweats and a fresh T-shirt. He found Ray standing in the bedroom, rocking Abbie. He quickly put a finger to his lips. "I think I've almost got her to sleep," he mouthed.

"I'll go make breakfast," Ben mouthed back, and continued through back into the kitchen. Investigation, as thorough as he could manage without undue bending, yielded one egg, three strips of bacon, a shrink-wrapped bowl of cold linguini from last night's dinner, the tail end of a loaf of bread, and a few assorted cans. "Breakfast," after much deliberation, turned out to be half of a scrambled-egg-and-bacon-on-toast sandwich for each of them and a bowl of canned peaches with two spoons.

Ray didn't object, though he did mention that he really ought to go shopping later that day. The meal was finished quickly and the dishes dumped in the sink. "So, Benny, what're your plans for the day?" he asked.

Ben gave him a half-smile. "Back to bed?"

"Last one asleep's a rotten egg," he answered, as he took his arm and headed for the bedroom.

~~~May 14, 2004 ~~~

"Come on, Benny, aren't you two ready yet?" Ray tapped on the bedroom door with one knuckle as he pushed it open. "I finished the breakfast dishes twenty minutes ago. The kitchen's clean. What's taking so long?"

A rather flushed and flustered Mountie looked up at him from the bed, where he was sitting crosslegged with Abbie, halfway dressed, in his lap. One arm was nearly threaded through its sleeve, and as Ray watched, it slithered its way back out. Ben looked about ready to cry. "This is the most *exasperating* task."

"Having a little trouble?"

Ben scrunched the sleeve as much as possible and tried to work it over the seemingly boneless arm. "It's like trying to put a dogsled harness on a live trout."

"That what they do at night in Canada when the cable goes out?" Ray sat beside him and watched carefully. The next time the tiny hand made an appearance, he poked a finger into the sleeve and fished it out, then held on gently but firmly as Ben pulled the sleeve all the way down.

"Thank you kindly. And no, I don't believe so, although one town where I was stationed did hold an annual salmon race. The salmon were, however, unharnessed."

"Hasn't anybody up there ever heard of poker?" Working together, they got the other arm through its sleeve, and Ben quickly closed the row of snaps up the front of the yellow one-piece suit.

"Of course, Ray. We read extensively." Handing Abbie to Ray, he scooted back and off the bed with a hint of his old agility.

Ray shook his head. "Canadian humor. It's hopeless." He and Abbie followed suit, and waited by the doorway as Ben put on his shoes. "We're going to the doctor today," he whispered to her. "You're a big girl, two whole weeks old. The doctor's going to give you some shots so you won't get sick. That's good, isn't it?" He looked up. "Hey, Benny, I'm gonna go put her in the car seat. Can you grab her bag and lock up, and I'll meet you out there?"

Ben finished tying the second shoelace and stood up. "Of course, Ray." He crossed the room to pick up the diaper bag, catching a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror en route. T-shirt and RCMP-issue sweatpants again, more than a little baggy. He was finding that the clothes he'd worn during the pregnancy were now far too large, stretched out of shape, but his old jeans and slacks were too tight for a body still swollen with baby fat and tender from surgery. He ran a hand through his hair, which hadn't been cut for almost two months and was now curling around his ears. His grandmother was probably turning in her grave. With a sigh, he picked up the bag and his keys and headed out to join his family.

*****

"Hi, I'm Dr. McKinnon. You must be Mr. Fraser," the doctor said, extending a hand to Ben. He shook, and she turned to Ray. "And you're Mr. Vecchio," she continued, smiling as Ray shifted the baby to free up a hand to shake, "And this must be Abigail. Dr. Young has told me all about you."

"Nice to meet you," said Ray.

"We've heard excellent things about you as well," Ben added.

"Well, I certainly hope I don't disappoint." She picked up the medical chart that she had placed on the examination table upon entering the room. "So, just to make sure I have all the right information, she was born on April 30, 9:21 in the morning, birthweight six pounds, eight ounces, correct?" She glanced at Ray, who turned to Ben, who nodded in confirmation. "Ok, test results... all look good, so let's get started here. Could you place her in here for me, please?" She indicated a large scale, and Ray complied. "Keep your hand above her, but try not to touch her or the scale until we get a weight, OK?"

All in all, the appointment went well. Dr. McKinnon told them that Abbie's weight and measurements were perfectly on schedule for her age, and she herself was remarkably quiet throughout the proceedings. Finally the time came for her vaccinations.

"Would you please unbutton her and hold her still so that I can reach her shoulder?" asked Dr. McKinnon, picking up a small syringe and a sealed vial from a tray in the corner of the room. She turned around to find two pairs of eyes fixated on the needle in her hand, unmoving. Her face softened in sympathy. "I promise it won't hurt her. Just a little prick, and it'll be over before she knows it."

It was Ben who finally managed to undo her snaps and present a tiny bare shoulder for the injection. He flinched as the needle broke her skin, and turned pale as she screeched in protest and began to cry, but his hands held steady until it was removed and the doctor rubbed the spot briskly with a cotton swab. She covered the near-invisible puncture with a brightly colored band-aid and gently pulled up the soft yellow sleeve to cover it. "You can open your eyes now, Mr. Vecchio."

Ray did so, cautiously, and immediately clutched the still-wailing Abbie to his chest. The color returned to Ben's face in a rush, and he laid one hand on Ray's shoulder and the other on Abbie's back. Dr. McKinnon watched them out of the corner of her eye as she disposed of the syringe, intrigued by the difference in their interactions with the baby and with each other. Ray held her close, trying to give and seek comfort through full-body contact, leaning into Ben's touch. Ben, in contrast, maintained a slight distance, touching them with evident love but also with a certain reserve. She wondered what his history might have been.

She gave them a minute to recover before she spoke again, knowing that vaccinations were usually more traumatic for parents than for the babies themselves. The sooner they calmed down, the sooner the child would relax and stop crying. Babies responded to the prevailing mood of the people around them. Deciding it was time for a distraction, she cleared her throat.

"Ok, that's about it for this visit. Keep the bandage on it for the rest of the day, and make sure it doesn't get wet. The vaccine may make her a little cranky for the next day or two, and she might develop a low-grade fever. If she does, keep her cool and give her plenty of fluids. If it gets above 100 degrees, or if you notice any kind of a rash or swelling around the injection site, bring her back in and we'll keep an eye on her. Other than that, I guess the next time I'll see you will be right before you leave. Where's home for you?"

"Chicago," Ben answered. "We'll be leaving at the beginning of June."

"Well, I guess I'll see you then. Unless you have any questions, we're done for today." She turned from one to the other, but both men seemed intent on comforting their daughter and getting out of the examination room as quickly as possible. With another round of brief handshakes, they were gone.

Rated PG. Pairing: RV/BF

*****

The three of them left Dr. McKinnon's office and followed the winding hallways back to the little waiting room. Ray glanced at his wrist, only to find that he had forgotten to put his watch on that morning. He located a clock above the receptionists' desk.

"Ok, it's about a quarter to twelve, your appointment's for twelve thirty. You wanna just head over there and wait? Maybe grab a coffee on the way?"

Ben glanced at their daughter, still whimpering unhappily against Ray's neck. "Yes, I think... no coffee for me, thank you."

"Ok. Come on, I think it's this way." He led the way out the door and into another pale blue and white hallway, then turned left.

Ben stood still outside the door. "Ray... the clinic is this way."

"That's the way we came in."

"I know. The entrance to the obstetrics wing is just before the main door to pediatrics."

"How do you know? We've never been here before."

"We passed the directory on the way in."

Ray gave in, knowing that after a single glance at the hospital directory, Ben could probably give him precise directions to the geriatric proctologist's office. He shifted Abbie, shrugged the diaper bag back onto his shoulder, and followed.

Ben was right, of course. A few turns brought them to the familiar waiting room, and down the hall he could see the clinic's private entrance, opening onto the shady parking lot. A blue and white Ford pickup was occupying the Riv's accustomed spot under the big maple tree.

Ben went to the receptionist's desk to sign in, and with a smile to the woman behind the desk, Ray headed for a seat by the window. He had just managed to set everything down and get himself and Abbie settled when Ben joined them, taking the next seat without comment.

"Looks like we're going to be here awhile," he said.

"Hm," Ben answered, staring blankly at the floor for a moment before suddenly reaching for a magazine.

Ray watched him curiously out of the corner of his eye. Finally he spoke up. "Something bothering you, Benny?"

"Hm? No, no... why do you ask?"

"You've been staring at that Lysol ad for the past five minutes. I know you hate the stuff, but that's a bit obsessive."

"Excessive use of antibacterial agents leads to increased incidence of disease, Ray."

"So you've told me. What's really bugging you?"

"Nothing." He gazed quietly at Abbie, then looked back at his magazine. After a second's thought, he turned the page.

"Benny?"

Ben inhaled sharply, lifting his head without turning toward him.

"You want to hold her?"

"I... please." He reached out almost timidly as Ray handed her over, then pressed her to his chest, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as though he'd just been rescued from drowning.

Ray stared. "Jeez, Benny, all you had to do was ask. She's your daughter too. Are you sure you're OK?"

Ben nodded, eyes still closed. With a final sigh, he opened them, settling Abbie more comfortably into the crook of his arm. She yawned and blinked sleepily at him, having been awakened by the almost fierce hug. He smiled and touched a hand with his finger, letting her grab hold of the tip. "I am now."

"I had no idea. I just didn't want you getting tired carrying everything," Ray muttered, almost to himself.

An expression that they were beginning to recognise crossed Abbie's face, and a quick check confirmed that she needed changing. Ben lifted her back to his shoulder and stood up. "I'll do it, Ray."

"At least let me carry the bag."

Ben turned in silent assent, and they headed for the restroom. After the last ten months, there was no need to ask for directions. The diaper was changed without incident, and Ben relinquished his charge briefly in order to use the facilities himself. Just as they left the restroom to return to the waiting room, the door that led to the clinic's offices and laboratory swung open. They were almost bowled over by a young man who was walking backward, talking excitedly to another man who followed at a slightly more sedate pace, accompanied by Dr. Young.

"Excuse me," he said automatically, barely glancing at them. "Jim, man, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. Come on, you've gotta... thanks, Doc," he broke off, turning to shake her hand as they reached the waiting room. His quiet partner thanked her also, looking slightly apprehensive, and the pair left, the shorter man still chattering as the door closed behind them. The doctor watched them go, then turned a tired but welcoming smile on Ben and Ray.

"Your next victims?" Ray asked.

"Candidates," she answered. "The shorter one is eager to do it, but after the problems we had with your oxygen, Ben, I'm hesitant to try it. The tall one has the body for it, but he's not sure he's ready to carry a child. I have two more couples coming in this afternoon for interviews. What time is your appointment supposed to be?"

"Twelve thirty," Ben answered. "I'm sorry, we're a bit early..."

"Oh, don't worry about it. Go on back, you know where the gowns are. I'll be right with you."

A few minutes later, Ben was smocked in blue and back on the familiar table, with the doctor's hands pressing gently against the scar from his Caesarian.

"Ok, it looks like these stitches are ready to come out," she said, reaching for the tray of surgical equipment and setting to work. "So, how have things been? Adjusting to parenthood?"

"Well, we've been peed on, puked on, developed a whole new concept of what is and isn't edible, and haven't had a decent night's sleep in two weeks," Ray answered. "It's great."

"How's the breastfeeding going?"

"Fairly well, actually," said Ben. "It took a few days for the supply to become established, but it's now quite... I believe I'm getting used to it."

"Are you about ready to start weaning her?" Ben jumped slightly under her hands, and she paused before removing the next stitch. "It is something you're going to have to think about. You'll need a few weeks if you want to stop lactation before you get back to Chicago."

"Oh." Ben looked a bit shellshocked. He glanced at Ray, who shrugged. "I suppose... how do I go about it?"

"It will probably be easiest if you do it gradually. To stop breastfeeding suddenly can be painful, both physically and emotionally. Speaking of which, have you noticed any symptoms of postpartum depression?"

"Such as?"

The doctor returned to her work as she answered. "Unusual emotional sensitivity, feelings of loss, emptiness, low self-worth, hopelessness. It can get pretty badsome women with severe postpartum even contemplate killing themselves or the baby."

She paused in the middle of cutting a stitch as the body beneath her fingers recoiled in horror. "No, of course not!"

She looked up. "It is my job to ask, Ben. And though I'm citing an extreme case, you are in a fairly unique position. Your body has gone through some incredible changes over the course of this past year, and I wouldn't be surprised if they had an effect on your emotional and psychological state as well. I'm not implying anything about you personally."

"No, no, I... I realize that. Ah, no, I don't believe I have any of those symptoms."

"All right," she said, finally removing the stitch. "Now, as for the breastfeeding, I suggest you begin simply by reducing the amount of time she spends at the breast. Switch her to a bottle before she finishes, so that there's some left behind. That will send your body the message that it needs to slow down production, and if you keep at it it will eventually slow to a stop. I wouldn't be letting her suck at all by at least a week before you plan to leave. Or Ray, either," she added, casting him a mischievious grin.

Ray flushed darkly and protested. "I do not."

The last stitch came out, and she reached for an iodine swab. "I have it on good authority that all husbands try it at least once. I have it on equally good authority that no husband ever admits to it. So even though you don't do it, just make sure you don't do it when Ben is trying to stop lactating. His oxytocin levels don't know the difference between you and the baby."

Ray concentrated very hard on straightening a fold in Abbie's blanket. "Understood."

~~~May 18, 2004 ~~~

"Ok." Ray sighed and hitched his daughter back up from lying in his lap to resting semiupright between his arm and chest. "We're paid up until the end of the month in this apartment, and Frannie promised she'd go in next weekend as soon as the Hudsons move out and make sure we've got beds and stuff in our old place. So basically, we can leave anytime we get clearance from the hospital, right? Anything I'm forgetting?"

Ben studied the calendar that lay open on the table before him. "I don't believe so. Except," he glanced around the room, "How are we going to transport everything?"

Ray followed his example and looked around. "We don't have all that much. Most of the big stuff came with the apartment. We've just got clothes, some kitchen stuff, the computer and the TV. It all fit on the way down."

"Yes, but this time we won't be able to use the backseat for storage."

"So we'll rent a trailer. Or we can pack up and ship everything we don't need on the drive up."

"Speaking of which, we will need to leave extra time for the trip."

"Yeah, of course. I mean, you and I could do it in a long day, but with her it'll probably take two."

"Or three. It's 13.5 hours of driving, with good traffic and without a trailer, which will increase wind resistance and add time. We will have to stop on average once every 1.5 hours to feed and change her. At 20 minutes per stop, the trip will take a minimum of...16.5 hours, probably considerably more. We will also have to stop for meals ourselves, and for fuel; taking into account the gas mileage of the Riviera--"

"Hey! Fine, three days, maybe four. So we'll just make sure to pack extra diapers, and it takes as long as it takes."

"Agreed. But this does bring up something I've been meaning to discuss with you, Ray. Since you will now be working primarily at home, it will be impractical for you to continue to drive me to and from work every day."

He paused, and Ray looked at him, having an idea of what was coming next. He hid a smile. "What are you getting at, Benny?"

"I think perhaps it's time I bought a car," he said gravely.

"Hm. You know, that's a serious decision to make. I've only been driving you around for ten years."

"Of course, I realize it's fast, but I really think I'm ready."

"Well, if you're sure." Ray gave up and grinned, scooping up Abbie who was sliding downward again. "We'll go talk to Al as soon as we get settled back home."

The next two weeks passed rather quickly. Clothing was sorted into things to take with them, things to mail, and Ben's small collection of maternity clothes to donate to Birthright. On a sunny Saturday morning, their last in Atlanta, they loaded the garments into a paper sack and took them down to the collection center. Ben was dressed in a pair of old jeans, dwindling breasts supported by a tight undershirt and camouflaged by a loose cotton work shirt. On one miraculously quiet afternoon, he'd managed to cut his hair, and the reflection that met him in the center's front window was almost the Mountie who had left Chicago a year before. He handed the sack of clothing to the woman behind the counter, who thanked him hurriedly from behind a stack of forms. He felt a twinge of near-regret as the bag disappeared into a back room, then squared his shoulders and turned to walk out. There were a handful of girls in the waiting room, mostly young, mostly scared, mostly alone. None of them met his eyes.

His mood lightened suddenly as he approached the Riviera. Ray's behind was framed perfectly in the center of the windshield, the rest of him wedged firmly between the two front seats. The behind waved slightly, and as he approached the car he could see that Ray had Abbie's stuffed squirrel in one hand and was evidently using it to tell her a story. He watched for a moment before opening the passenger door.

Ray jumped at the sudden interruption, hitting his head on the Riv's dome light. "Jeez, Benny, give a guy some warning next time, would ya?" Nestling the squirrel gently into the safety seat beside Abbie, he wormed his way back behind the wheel.

Ben climbed in beside him and shut the door. "Sorry, Ray. Good story?" he added casually.

Ray glared at twinkling blue eyes, then looked away with a nonchalant air. "The best." He turned back to Ben, and they both cracked up.

Ray started the engine, and they drove a few blocks to the woods where Ben had taken him the previous fall. The trees that had been leafless then were now lush and green. The arching branches met overhead, blocking out all sight and sound of the outside world and creating a semitropical oasis in the midst of the city. They took Abbie from her carrier and placed her in a sling on Ben's back, then headed off into the trees.

The temperature dropped several degrees as they stepped into the shade, and the warm, moist air vibrated with the song of insects and the occasional bird. A few late spring wildflowerstrilliums, Ben notedbloomed among the underbrush.

Between the two of them, they kept up a running commentary for Abbie's benefit, pointing out the various things they passed along the way. Each insect and lacy skeleton leaf, a shaft of sunlight breaking through their green roof, the heady fragrance of honeysuckle and privet blossoms, all became magical as they experienced them for the first time through their daughter's senses. She herself slept through most of the walk, waking occasionally to look around her with eyes that were just beginning to focus. Finally she awakened hungry and began to cry, and they turned back, smiling as they approached the edge of the woods where two trees, an oak and a beech, grew from a single trunk. As Ben had learned from the nursing home staff during his volunteer days, it had been a landmark for meandering couples for decades. Earth had collected in the crevice between the two, and in it a single, tiny white flower had grown and bloomed. They gave it a last admiring glance, then went home to feed the baby.

~~~May 31, 2004 ~~~

"Pull over, Ray."

"Again?"

"It's time for her feeding."

"Can't you do it while she's in the carseat?"

"Ray..."

"All right, all right. There's a town coming up in about 10 miles. We might as well stop and get lunch ourselves while we're at it."

"Ok." Ben ran a finger down one rounded cheek, and she leaned into his touch. He looked up and smiled at Ray's concerned eyes in the rearview mirror. The grumbling was all a show, as the mirror itself proved. After ten years of storing it in the glove compartment, Ray had actually glued it back into place where it belonged.

By the time they reached the next exit, the slight whimper that had warned Ben of the approach of lunchtime had grown to a full-blown wail. Ray located a small diner and pulled into the parking lot, and Abbie was out of the car seat and in comforting arms almost-- but not quitebefore the engine had stopped.

The interior of the diner proved to be shabby but clean, and they found a corner booth away from the other customers. A warm bottle was extracted from a thermos in the diaper bag and Ray settled down to feeding Abbie while Ben read the menu and ordered lunch.

She had finished by the time the food arrived, and there was relative quiet as they enjoyed what they hoped would be their last meal to come with a complimentary side dish of boiled okra. Ben finished his first, and volunteered to take Abbie to the restroom and change her, leaving Ray to finish his potato and poke disgustedly at the slimy greenish heap beside it.

He reemerged from the men's room after a brief glance around, and stopped a waitress on her way to the kitchen. "Excuse me. There doesn't seem to be a changing table in the restroom. I was wondering if you could tell me--"

"There's one in the ladies' room," she interrupted, and began to move past him. "Can't your wife take care of it?"

He blinked, at a bit of a loss. "Oh, I'm afraid I don't... I don't have a wife."

She stopped and looked down at the baby in his arms, and then suddenly her puzzled expression melted into one of pity and sympathy. "I'm so sorry. Look, I'll check and see if anyone's in there, and then you can go use that one. I'm really sorry about your wife."

Suddenly realising what she must be thinking, he began to protest, then shrugged. Let her think whatever she needed to. She pronounced the ladies' room all clear and held the door for him, and he thanked her with a touch of embarrassment and walked inside. She was still there when he returned with the freshly changed Abbie, standing guard over the restroom door. Two women were waiting in the hall, both of whom gave him sad smiles as they walked past him into the room. One patted his arm and offered her best wishes for himself and the little one. Evidently the waitress had shared her theory. She herself looked down at Abbie, then up at Ben with eyes that seemed ready to fill with tears, and promised to speak to the manager about getting a changing table installed in the men's bathroom. He nodded, thanked her again, and made his escape.

"She actually thought your wife died in childbirth?" Ray asked, as they pulled back onto the interstate.

"Apparently," Ben anwered from the backseat. "I have no idea how she came to that conclusion, but I decided it was probably safer if I did not explain the truth."

"Yeah, probably. We're gonna run into enough trouble over the next 18 years without going looking for it. But hey, at least one good thing'll come out of it, if she does get that table put in."

"Mm hmm," Ben agreed absently, watching Abbie's long eyelashes flutter closed.

"You ever think five years ago that you'd care where they put a changing table?"

Ben smiled slightly and shook his head, still absorbed. Ray, watching in the mirror, grinned and turned his attention back to his driving.

They stopped for the night at a Motel 6 just north of the Tennessee-Kentucky border, grabbed a quick meal, and fell into bed, exhausted. Abbie woke them at 11:30 pm for her late-night feeding, and they took the opportunity to change into pajamas and crawl under the blankets.

Naturally, having slept all day in the car, she was in no mood to sleep peacefully through the night. They were awakened time after time, and each bout of crying required fifteen or twenty minutes of walking, with singing on Ben's part and murmured endearments on Ray's, to calm. After the third time, they began trading off, one taking Abbie outdoors to walk in the warm, starry summer night while the other attempted to go back to sleep.

All too soon, the eastern sky turned grey, then gold, illuminating the face of a child once more peacefully asleep. With a silent prayer of immense gratitude for the heavy motel drapes, Ray carried her back inside.

He woke about four hours later to the sound of silence. Opening one eye, he noticed that the other side of the bed was empty, and the sheets were cold. He sat up. "Benny?" No answer. He reached to turn on the lamp beside the bed, and found a note lying on the table. He switched on the light and read:

'RayAbigail and I have gone to the restaurant across the road. Join us when you wake up. Sleep well. Love, Ben.'

Ray smiled and stretched, then got up and dressed. A few minutes later, he walked into the restaurant and located his family in a sunlit booth against one wall. Ben was about halfway through a thick book, with Abbie curled against his shoulder, and the table held a cup of tea, a small plate with a few crumbs of pastry, and an empty bottle. Ray slid into the booth. "Hey, Benny."

Ben set down the book. "Good morning, Ray. Sleep well?"

"Yeah, great, thanks. How long you been here?"

Ben glanced at his watch. "About two hours. I thought that, since you had to drive, it might be best if we let you sleep."

"What about you?"

"I can sleep in the car, if necessary."

"You already eat breakfast?" he gestured toward the plate.

Ben nodded. "We both have." A few minutes later, a solicitous waitress came over to check Ben's cup. She seemed surprised by Ray's presence, but fetched him a menu anyway and didn't ask questions. An hour later, they were back on the road.

~~~June 2, 2004~~~

It took them two more days to reach Chicago. They spent the next night in northern Indiana, a few hours outside the city limits, and arrived at the Vecchio house in mid-afternoon. A seemingly endless stream of relatives poured out to meet them, and Abbie was passed from hand to hand as her two fathers stretched backs cramped by three days in the car. After a brief visit and a lunch that Mrs. Vecchio had been keeping warm for them since their phone call an hour before, the entire family piled into three cars and set off for Ray's and Ben's old apartment.

As promised, the apartment was clean, the bed made and a crib installedwith yellow blankets, Ben noted gratefully, not pinkand the refrigerator stocked with a few essentials. Mrs. Vecchio offered to watch Abbie as the rest of the family unloaded the Riv and its trailer, and the walls were lined with boxes and bags within minutes. Another half-hour saw the trailer hitched to the back of Matthew's SUV to be returned to the nearest drop-off counter. Then, with a final kiss to her granddaughter and instructions for reheating the casserole she'd left in the fridge, Mrs. Vecchio shooed the family out and left Ben and Ray alone together with their daughter.

The apartment seemed oddly quiet after the door had closed. It was larger than the one they had occupied for the past year, and though comfortably furnished it had not been decorated. The blank white walls looked as though they might echo.

They unpacked slowly, putting away clothing and dishes and reconnecting the telephone and TV. The things they hadn't taken with them were packed in boxes and stacked in the spare bedroom; Francesca and whomever she'd gotten to help her must have brought them down from the Vecchio attic when they'd fixed the place up. Those would take a bit longer. For now, it was good to be home.

*****

Almost everything was in place by the following weekend, and on Friday Maria called to invite them over for dinner Saturday night. They accepted, a bit suspiciously, and headed out the door to Al's garage, where they had been going when the phone rang.

At 7 o'clock the next evening, they climbed into Ben's new car to go to the house. He had acquired a three-year-old brown Ford sedan that had an excellent crash rating, good gas mileage, and in Ray's opinion, no style whatsoever. But it did have four doors, which made putting Abbie's car seat in the back much easier.

Their suspicions proved well-founded when they were met at the door by a shout of "Surprise!" Maria's and Francesca's families were there, along with a dozen or so more distant relatives, and a handful of assorted friends. Lieutenant Welsh and Detective Huey were in one corner with Elaine, apparently back from her new precinct across town and wearing a shiny new Detective's badge. A blond head appeared among the sea of dark-haired Italian children, and after a second's thought Ben placed her as Laura Thatcher, and located Meg by the couch, standing next to a woman whose face he couldn't quite see.

They took Abbie and began making the rounds of the room, showing her off and catching up on the last year's worth of gossip. They congratulated Elaine on her promotion, and Huey on his announcement that his wife, who hadn't been able to make it to the party, was expecting their second child. Lieutenant Welsh had little to say about himself, but offered his congratulations, said he was glad they were back, and assured Ray that he would have a job with the Precinct for as long as he needed one.

The relatives were full of news about who had been married or buried or divorced or dropped out of school since they had last been home, and they smiled and commiserated as expected. Finally they made it to the couch, where

"Maggie!" Ben quickly put Abbie in Ray's arms and swept his sister up in a warm embrace.

"Hello, Ben," she smiled into his shoulder.

"How long are you going to be here?" he asked, finally letting her go.

"Just until Monday. I had business in Ottawa anyway, and when your sister-in-law called I changed my flight home. Why didn't you tell me, Ben?"

"I meant to, as soon as we got home." In truth, he'd been putting it off, unable to decide whether to tell her the truth about the pregnancy or tell her it had been an adoption. Whichever, nothing could be explained here. "Where are you staying?"

"I have a hotel room near the Consulate. I'll call you tomorrow, OK? We've got a lot to catch up on."

"Sure. Come over to the apartment, we'll have lunch." He looked to Ray for confirmation.

"Yeah, sure. You can come get to know your niece."

Meg Thatcher watched them quietly from a few feet away. She had been doing research for the past five months, and still had no satisfactory answer as to what was wrong with Ben. No common disease seemed to fit the observed criterialocalized weight gain, enforced sedentary lifestyle and mood swings, requiring regular medical treatment for several months and follow-up visits annually for years following. She'd finally settled on some kind of glandular disorder, but kept changing her mind about which one. Now, seeing him for the first time since that day at the Consulate, she decided she had been right. His features had softened almost imperceptibly, and while his weight was barely more than it had been when they'd first met, his entire figure seemed somehow more rounded. Obviously a hormone imbalance. She hoped for his sake that it was, as he had predicted, under control.

Finally he turned to her. "Inspector." He offered a hand, and they shook.

"Good to see you again, Fraser. I trust your health is improved?" she asked, hoping for further clues.

Ben just smiled. "Very much so, sir. I appreciate your concern."

She sighed inwardly and gave up. General hormone imbalance it would have to remain. "The Consulate is running in good order and will be ready for you to take the helm on the 14^th, as agreed."

"And yourself, sir?"

"Back to Ottawa for me and Laura. I've decided to stop running from my problems."

"Best of luck to you, sir."

"About time," Ray added under his breath.

"I heard that, Detective." She glared at him, then smiled slightly. "But you're right. Congratulations, both of you." She shook Ray's hand around Abbie, and began to shake Ben's again, then hugged him briefly. "This is what I missed with Laura," she said, looking at Abbie. "Enjoy it."

They answered in unison. "We will."

~~~June 6, 2004~~~

"And you actually..." Maggie gestured incredulously at Ben's midriff with a celery stick.

Ben nodded, almost awestruck himself by the thought. "The whole nine months."

"I don't believe it. I mean, how?"

"It's a new technique," Ray answered. "Benny and I got to be test subjects."

"And both of you," the celery trembled as it waved from one to the other, "are her biological parents?" Ben nodded, and she took a bite of the celery and chewed thoughtfully. "Wow. Where'd the egg come from?"

"Anonymous donation. Fertility clinics sometimes have some left over, and couples can choose whether to have them destroyed or donate them for the clinic to use as they see fit. Abbie came from one of those."

"So you got a donated egg, replaced the genetic material with your own, implanted it somewhere in your body, and carried it to term? One of us must be hallucinating."

"Would you like to see the scar?"

She jumped. "Um, thanks, but I think I'll take your word on it. A C-section scar on my brother..."

"Yeah, it's kind of a lot to take in," Ray said sympathetically. "But hey, at least you know she's your real niece."

Maggie nodded, and the three of them continued their lunch in silence for a moment. Finally she turned to her brother. "I guess it's true what they say about you." Ben cocked an eyebrow inquiringly. "You're definitely one of a kind." Everyone smiled at that, and the tension that had been in the room since the announcement 'We have something to tell you' suddenly lessened. Laying down her napkin, she asked, "So, can I hold my niece?"

Abbie was not entirely pleased to be woken up, but she soon relaxed when she found herself in comforting arms. She yawned and stretched, reaching clumsily for a long tendril of hair that had come loose from Maggie's customary tight bun. Her aunt leaned closer and let it tickle her cheek. She shied away from the touch, but watched its movement with fascination as its owner glanced from her to her fathers.

"Cute. She looks like you, Ben. I didn't really get a good look at her last night, with all those other people around. Are they really all relatives?"

"Mostly," Ben smiled.

"I can't even keep track," said Ray. "I think Ma knows who they all are, but I doubt anybody else does. Somehow they just always show up whenever something's going on."

"Orphan to ant in a hill, eh?" She glanced at Ben, who smiled slightly. "You know, I never really wanted kids of my own. I figured it would interfere with my career. Looking at you guys, though, I wonder if I made the right decision."

"It's not too late to change your mind."

"Maybe." She looked down at Abbie, who was still watching her hair. She pulled out the band and shook it loose, adding to her interest. "Maybe I was just meant to be an aunt."

*****

The final week of Ben's sabbatical passed all too quickly, filled with a million tiny things that he noticed about his daughter. Her eyes were beginning to follow him around the room, and in certain lights, they were beginning to look more green than blue. He hoped that they would eventually be the beautiful hazel-green of Ray's own. When he held her, there was a twitch at one corner of her mouth that might be the beginnings of a smile. She was developing preferences among her various stuffed animals, and they had special games and routines for feedings and naptimes. He spent more and more time with her as the dreaded day approached, and carried her with him everywhere he went.

They had received a plastic baby carrier at their surprise baby shower, but it had been returned to the store unopened. Benand Ray on the few occasions when Ben let her go, which were limited mainly to when he slept or had to use the bathroompreferred to hold her in his arms alone. The carrier had been exchanged for another cloth sling that carried some of the weight and let him use his hands. He was developing a distinct list to starboard.

Monday arrived at last, and it was with a pang of regret this time that he picked up the red serge uniform. He dressed slowly, putting on his tight undershirt to bind his chest and buttoning his jodhpurs carefully over the scar below his navel. He put on the belt he had worn at New Year's, buckling it loosely to keep the pressure from becoming too uncomfortable. Hair brushed, boots laced and tied to perfection, he held Abbie until the last possible moment. Reluctantly, he forced himself to hand her over to Ray, and with a kiss to each, he made it out the door.

That day was the longest he had ever spent, and it was only by the strongest effort and determination that he managed to keep his mind on the papers that he was reviewing with Inspector Thatcher. Constables Baker and Wade welcomed him back with restrained Canadian enthusiasm, and seemed surprised that he had brought no photographs with him. He apologised distractedly and promised to bring some the following day, wondering with a pang what Abbie was doing at that moment. Probably sleeping, he decided, picturing her in her crib, one hand perhaps emerging from beneath the soft yellow blanket, cheeks rosy with sleep. Her eyes would be moving under finely-veined lids, caught up in dreams he couldn't imagine. He sighed and recalled himself to the present once again.

The hours he had spent confined to bed, awaiting Abbie's birth, seemed in retrospect to have flown by in comparison to the last few minutes before five o'clock. The bell in the clock tower rang at last, however, and he was out the door before the last reverberations had died away. The first traffic light on his route home was red, and he briefly considered abandoning the car and running back to the apartment on foot. The light changed just in time to save his sanity, and to his relief, the last two were green. He took the stairs three at a time, had his key ready by the first landing, and was down the hall at the door of #319 in about two steps.

He took a deep breath and composed his features into a dignified, fatherly smile before unlocking the door. "Ray?"

"Shh. In here." He traced the hushed answer back to the spare bedroom, now filled with Ray's files and office supplies. Ray was seated at his makeshift desk, going through folders. "Hey, how's the great breadwinner?"

"Where is she?"

Ray waved the folder toward the floor beside his chair. "Right here. You OK?"

Ben was kneeling on the floor before the words were out of his mouth. Abbie was tucked into her wooden cradle, which Ray had been rocking gently with one socked foot. He'd stopped when Ben came in, and the abrupt break in the motion woke her. Her blue-green eyes opened sleepily, and Ben smiled, scooped her up, and held her tight.

Ray watched. "You know, that could be considered addiction. You might want to think about a twelve-step program."

Ben closed his eyes and said nothing, enjoying the soft round cheek pressed against his own. Ray shook his head and went back to his filing, grateful that he didn't have to leave home to go to work himself.

Life had settled down to normal an hour later, and Ben was burping Abbie when there was a knock on the door. Ray answered, and Inspector Thatcher entered hesitantly, a sheet of paper in her hands.

"I'm sorry to bother you at home, Fraser, Detective, but I need your signature on this form and my plane leaves tonight. I hope I'm not intruding."

"No, not at all," Ben answered, then smiled deprecatingly. "Do you have a pen? I'm afraid the apartment is still a bit of a mess."

She took one out of her purse and held the transfer form as he signed with his free hand. "Thank you."

"Oh, it's no trouble. We wish you the best of luck in your new position."

She thanked them both and began to leave, then paused at the door. "So, is adopting an infant as much work as they say? I let them talk me out of it with Laura, and while I love her very much, I've always been afraid that I missed something, not seeing her at this stage."

Ray shrugged. "It is a lot of work. Dirty diapers, 2 am feedings, 3 am changes..."

"4 am crying fits, 5 am feedings," Ben added.

"Never enough sleep."

"Showering with the bathroom door open."

"Puke on the left shoulder of every shirt," Ray said, eyeing Ben.

"Could you get that, please?"

Ray grabbed a clean cloth diaper from the pile on a nearby chair and mopped up. Meg watched, then asked, "Is it worth it?"

Ben met Ray's eyes as he dropped the diaper into the pail, then looked down at the child in his arms. Greenish eyes met his, and she gave her almost-smile. He answered for both of them. "Absolutely."

~~~The End... and the beginning.~~~

~~~Author's Notes~~~

*Reading material: The books Benny is reading are actual titles from my family's bookshelves.

*Active Ingredients: for the drugs stocked in the Consulate medicine cabinet, I tried to pick things that would reasonably be found there. They are:

Acetominophen: Painkiller. In this case, it's Tylenol.

Aloe: Burn stuff. Benny makes his own directly from the plant.

Bacitracin: Antiseptic.

Capsaicin: Anti-arthritic. See "Burn, Baby, Burn" on the Hexwood archive for contraindications.

Cimetidine: Heartburn/ulcer medication. I imagine Meg would use quite a bit of it.

Dextromethorphan: Cough syrup.

Diphenhydramine hydrochloride: Antihistamine found in Benadryl tablets and creams.

Kaopectate: Antidiarrheal syrup.

Ketoprofin: Super painkiller. Meg takes it for her tension headaches.

Lidocaine: Anti-itch stuff. Gold Bond Foot Powder, for those beautiful leather Mountie boots.

Menthol: Ointment for lips chapped by life in the Windy City (or lengthy makeout sessions with the cops of said city). Also a muscle rub, handy after a long day standing at attention.

Neosporin: Antibiotic salve.

Pectin: Throat lozenges. Another natural cure from OFM.

Polymyxin B Sulfate: Burn stuff, supplied by Constable Baker who doesn't trust Fraser's homemade concoctions.

Pseudoephedrine: Decongestant

Salicylic acid: Cold cream.

Saline: Eyedrops. Turnbull used to use them when he returned from sentry duty, after having stood without blinking for two hours.

Sodium bismuthate: Stomach stuff. Pepto Bismol.

Zinc glutonate: Used to counteract the effects of chronic stress. Another of Meg's contributions.

*Dr Young's medical background: She started as an MD OB/GYN with a small practice affiliated with the university, and pursued genetics research as a sideline until her first major breakthrough with same-sex fertilization, which she used as her thesis for a doctorate in genetics. Since then she has focused mainly on her research, but continues to see patients occasionally on an observer/consultant basis, thus keeping her medical license current and allowing her to oversee Benny's pregnancy.

*Male lactation: This is actually true. My source is an article in the February 1995 issue of Discover magazine, which is highly entertaining if you want to look it up; it has some lovely illustrations of male animals wearing brassieres. The high points of the article were the ten lactating wild fruit bats, virgin females nursing other females' offspring by repeatedly letting them suck at the dry breast, and men and farm animals giving milk after receiving supplemental hormones.

*Cheese Grits: For readers not native to the southern United States, "grits" are a staple item of the Georgian diet. It ("grits" appears to be both singular and plural) is a pastelike hot cereal made from corn, and comes in various flavors like cheese grits, butter grits, and grits with bacon bits. Personally, I can't stand them, but I'm decidedly in the minority on that opinion.

*Witch Hazel: The traditional, all-natural cure for gestational hemorrhoids.

*Lysol: This and other antibacterial products do contribute to disease. By preying on peoples' fear, the companies that manufacture them promote extreme overuse of such products, which has two effects. First, it eliminates the weak bacteria and breeds stronger, resistant strains that then cause major outbreaks that cannot be treated by ordinary means. This is why people are suddenly dying of tuberculosis again, after we thought it had been nearly eradicated, and why there are strains of malaria in Southeast Asia that have developed resistance to drugs so new they haven't even been approved for use in the United States yet. Second, if people are not exposed to normal levels of bacteria, their immune systems are weakened and they cannot fight the infections they do get. Hence the number of premature babies who develop severe bacterial diseases when they are taken out of their sterile incubators. Don't disinfect everything in sight, please.

*Meg: Some people have said she shouldn't have given up so easily on finding out about Ben's "condition." I agree that the Meg of the series would keep at it until she found out, but my Meg is a single mom and at the end of the story she's trying to coordinate a move and her career. She'd wonder, but she just doesn't have the time or energy to spare worrying about it once her period of self-imposed exile in Chicago is over.