Author's notes: Hi. This is a follow up to a story I posted quite a while ago, and it would make a bit more sense (hopefully) if you read that one first. Hope you like it. Please let me know.

PRESENT AND FUTURE

"I still can't believe I'm out of that place," says Ray, slouching on the sofa. "I can still smell it on me." He sounds petulant and about 8 years old. I can't help but smile like an idiot. He looks up and catches the look on my face and scowls.

"What?" he says. "I'm allowed a bit of a sulk I think, don't you?"

"You can do anything you want to do Ray, you know that," I say. I'm just glad to have him home again. Safe. With me.

He shifts position a little and his hand goes to his side, pressing slightly against the wound there. Although he won't admit it, it pains him still; the infection he developed held back his recovery and he's still weak. But he's here.

I put his bag down on the floor by the door and join him on the sofa. For all his sulking, he happily moulds himself against me. For my part I'm happy just to hold him, breathing him in. He smells of himself. Just himself. No hospitals, and, thank God, no gunpowder, no blood. Just Ray.

"You smell nice," he says, nuzzling my neck. "I don't understand it, but you seem to smell of woodsmoke. Have you been throwing yourself on fires recently?"

"Not that I'm aware of Ray," I say.

"Didn't get sidetracked on your way to the hospital today? No burning buildings? No sacrificial altars?"

"No," I say again, pulling back so I can see him. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he says, leaning back against the sofa, closing his eyes. "Bit tired I think."

"I'll go and take your bag into the bedroom," I say, standing up. "Then I think you should have something to eat and perhaps go to bed."

He scowls, but his eyes stay closed.

"I'm not an invalid, Frase..." he starts. Then he stops and looks up at me. "Oh, yes I am," he amends. "Duh."

I am so glad he's back; so glad he's teasing me. So glad he's here.

I'm unpacking his clothes, deciding what needs to go in the wash, when he wanders into the bedroom and lies on the bed, watching me. He doesn't say anything and by the time I'm finished, he's fast asleep.

Easing off his boots, I pull the blankets over him and draw the curtains. I leave the bedroom door open a little, just in case, and then I go and sit on the sofa.

Oh, this is nice. My bed. My apartment. No, that's wrong. Our bed. Our apartment. He's given up his old place and has officially moved in here. I still can't decide whether or not to be a little freaked about it; it's such a big decision. Deep down I know that it's what I want, and I think it's what he wants.

We had a bad time with the Bitch Queen and everything she tried to do, but she's in custody now and we can get on with our lives. Ours. Mine and his. For a while at least it's going to be the same life. Don't know how long for. I'm hoping for about 50 years, but Stella's taught me not to take it for granted. Hell, what happened with Victoria taught me the same thing. Don't think I will though, he means way too much to me for that. Not that I can tell him; I think if he knew he'd run screaming down the street. I can be a bit intense.

The bedroom door's pushed open and he's standing there trying to work out whether I'm awake or not.

"Hey," I say, to put him out of his misery. "How long've I been sleeping?"

"Only a couple of hours, Ray," he says. "You needed the rest."

"Mmm," I have to agree with him there. My chest hurts like a son of a bitch, but I'm not going to tell him; otherwise he'd turn into Mother Hen and I would have to kill him.

He knows anyway.

"Time for another painkiller I think," he says, advancing on me with a glass of water and said pill.

I take the pill and put the water on the nightstand. Then I pat the bed next to me and look at him.

"Come here," I say.

"Ray..." he begins.

"Nope, just come here," I say again. "I don't want to take advantage of you. Well, I do, but I'm not stupid enough to think that I could, not at the moment." I pause. "'Course, you could always take advantage of me," I suggest hopefully.

"Ray..." he says again, but sits next to me, resting his back against the headboard of the bed. I shuffle over, ignoring the twinges, and rest my head on his chest. God I love this. I can't believe how close I came to losing it.

As casually as I can I open a couple of the buttons on his shirt and slide my hand inside, loving the feel of that warm skin. When he doesn't say anything, I lower my head and kiss his chest, letting my hand slide a bit further inside. That's when he grabs my wrist.

"No Ray," he says. "You're not well enough to be indulging."

"Indulging what?" I ask, looking up at him. "I'm not indulging. What I'm doing is * trying * to indulge."

"Stop it," he says. "Not yet."

I may possibly pout a bit. He's right, * of course *. I couldn't get it up if he danced around the room wearing nothing but his Sam Browne and his Stetson, but it doesn't mean I can't look. And feel a bit.

I slide my hand across his chest a bit more, and that's when I feel the shiver. I finally focus enough to look down.

"I'm sorry Fraser," I say, pulling my hand away. "D'you want me to..?"

"No Ray, I don't," he says. I think he's a bit embarrassed. He's as hard and as hot as a teenager on a first date.

I lower my head and kiss his chest again, but then I lie still. After a minute he starts to relax and begins to rub my back. I try not to move too much. Not too much.

He goes to sleep again quite quickly. He was out of the hospital too soon really, but short of tying him down there was no way he was going to stay there any longer.

The ringing of the telephone causes him to twitch and mutter, so I quickly grab the receiver by the bed.

"Constable, how are you?" Lieutenant Welsh sounds as busy and harassed as ever.

"We're both fine," I answer. "Ray's asleep just at the moment. I think it's for the best."

"Yeah. Listen Constable, there's a problem..."

I feel myself growing cold, and without thinking I hold Ray closer. He mutters again and I force myself to relax.

"What problem, sir?" I ask as calmly as I can.

"Victoria. She got away from her guards at the border. Constable, it's more than likely she went across and is in Canada, but I thought you should know."

"Thank you sir," I answer. "When did this happen?"

"Early this morning. I've only just got the news myself. Fraser - ," he pauses, and I hear him sigh. "Be careful. You do realise that if she is back in Chicago "

"That she'll be coming for us," I finish the sentence for him. "Lieutenant, I won't let anything happen."

"I know that, Fraser. Just be careful."

"I will. We will." I hang the phone up carefully and check to make sure Ray is still sleeping. He doesn't need to know about this.

Then I catch myself. Isn't that exactly how our problems started? I'll tell him when he wakes up.

"Fuck!" It's the first thing I can think of to say.

"What is it with that woman, Fraser? How many times can one person escape?"

I immediately wish I'd bitten my tongue out before I'd even started that. At least once he let her go.

"More than likely she'll be in Canada now," he says without responding to what I said thank god. "We just have to be alert."

"Alert is a problem for me at the moment," I say, waving my hand at the row of pill bottles on the kitchen counter. "Pain killers, antibiotics, sleeping pills... not exactly at my sharpest."

"Then let me be alert for both of us," he answers.

I sit down at the table and he puts the soup in front of me. I've been awake about an hour now and for the first time in ages, I'm actually hungry. He sits opposite me but doesn't eat.

"It'll be fine," I say. "She won't be stupid enough to come back. And even if she does, we'll be ready for her this time. Won't we?"

"Yes Ray, we will," he says. It's an automatic reaction though; his mind's gone somewhere a long time ago. I fucking hate this woman. Just as he thinks he's rid of her, back she comes. He may have got rid of the love, the obsession he felt for her, but she seems to have left him a whole new batch of emotions to deal with. Just fine and dandy.

The phone rings and we both jump about six feet in the air. He answers it and then passes it over to me with a sheepish smile. Mum.

I spend the next twenty minutes assuring her and dad that yes, I'm fine now and that yes, I'm getting plenty of rest, and that yes, Fraser's looking after me, and that yes, he's going to be staying with me. And then I think that when this is all over I'm going to sit down with them and do some explaining.

By the time I hang up Fraser's on the couch reading some book or other. I go over and join him, half lying down with my feet on his lap.

"Everything okay?" he says, waaay too casually.

"Everything's fine," I answer. "We're going to tell them, don't worry. Or is that what you're worried about?"

He puts his book down.

"No, I'm not worried at all," he says. "I just wonder if we should."

"Why shouldn't we?" I'm beginning to get mad now. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"No! Never," he says. I believe him. Mounties don't lie.

"What then?" I ask.

"Well, you've only just started talking to your parents again," he says. "What would this do to them?"

"Oh mum'll be fine," I say, with a bit more confidence than I really feel. "And dad'll do what she says, eventually. Frase, I want them to know about you. I want them to get to know you and learn to love you like I do." I shut up at that point. Way too close to deep water there.

He squeezes my foot and goes back to his book. A sure sign he doesn't want to talk any more. I pick up the remote and begin to surf.

By 9.30 I'm exhausted and ready for bed. It's been a hard few weeks for both of us. Ray has been curled up on the sofa for almost an hour and I suspect he's still tired. He's sleeping a lot at the moment, but it can only be good for him.

Sure enough, when I push his feet from my lap and stand up, he looks up at me from unfocused eyes.

"What?" he says.

"Come on Ray. We're going to bed," I say, reaching down and pulling him to his feet.

He sways a little, searching for balance, and I hold his arm, steadying him. He leans into me and kisses me softly on the cheek, then pushes himself away and begins to shuffle towards the bedroom. Glad as I am to have him back with me, it makes my heart ache to see him so tired, so low in energy. I miss my Ray and I can't wait to have him back.

He collapses on the bed, and I pull off his sweats. Still in his tee shirt and boxers he climbs under the blankets. I think he's asleep before I get into bed, but he comes to me anyway, and I hold him close, waiting for sleep.

I wake up kinda early, and wallow for a little while. For some reason Fraser's still asleep, head buried in the pillow, blankets up around his ears. He sleeps like a little kid and I love to see it. I feel a bit guilty; he's tired because of me. He never left the bedside for any longer than he had to. Guilt, partly. We're both so good at guilt.

I feel better today so once I've had a shower I decide to make some breakfast. Fraser's beginning to show signs of life.

It's only as I go into the kitchen that I realise we still haven't picked up Dief. Turnbull has been looking after him while Fraser's been looking after me. Oh god, that wolf'll give us living hell for not rescuing him yesterday.

I start the coffee and then open the fridge, peering hopefully inside. Ah. We have milk. And we have milk. So unless Fraser wants soup or pasta for breakfast we'll have to go shopping. I make the coffee and go back into the bedroom. Fraser's awake now, rummaging in the dresser for some clothes.

"Don't bother on my account," I say, putting the coffee on the nightstand.

He looks over his shoulder and smiles at me, gorgeous and tousled, then gathers up an armful of shirt and jeans.

"We have to go shopping," I tell him. "No food. Why don't we have any food?"

"Because you've been in the hospital and I've been indulging in a passionate affair with a male stripper named Chuck," he says.

"Oh okay," I answer. "I can see why food wouldn't be an item."

He walks past me towards the bathroom and kisses me as he goes. He makes me happy.

I lie down on the bed to wait for him so that we can go shopping. Next thing I know I hear his voice, real quiet.

"Ray, I'll go and get us some food," he says. "You stay here."

I try and open my eyes but they won't obey. I feel his hand on my shoulder, holding me down on the bed.

"You go to sleep," he says. "We'll go and get Dief this afternoon. Okay?"

I feel him pretty effectively stripping me before he pulls the blanket over me.

I grunt at him, and some part of my mind registers the door closing. After that, nothing.

I finish putting the shopping away and go into the bedroom to check on Ray. He's still sleeping, but it's not the heavy sleep of illness. This is just restful.

I feel my stomach clench as I look at him. He looks young, vulnerable and very, very dear. Stripping down to my boxers, I climb into the bed with him and spoon around him. He murmurs and wriggles back into me so that I can feel the warmth of him all down my body. I don't understand all the feelings he engenders in me the love, the lust, the annoyance and confusion but I'm very grateful that we found each other.

I stroke his hair, kiss the back of his neck, and settle down to wait for him to wake up. I don't care how long it takes.

*

An hour goes past, then two. I may have dozed off a little myself, because when I open my eyes he's turned onto his back and is looking at me intently.

"What?" I say. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, not speaking. Very slowly he reaches up and rests a hand on my shoulder. He then slides it further up until he's tangled his fingers in my hair. He pulls gently and I go to him, kissing him, softly at first, then deeper, His tongue licks at my lips, seeking entry, which I willingly give.

I pull away and look at him for a moment, lying there on the bed, eyes still closed, lips parted. I put my hand on his chest, avoiding the scar there. He smiles slightly, so greatly daring, I trail my fingers down his stomach as gently as I can, not wanting to catch any bruises and break this moment. He arches slightly into my touch, not opening his eyes.

"Ray.." I say quietly. "I want... could I?"

Ray lifts his hand and puts it against my cheek, nodding.

"I don't want to hurt you," I say.

"You couldn't," he says. "I know you."

I reach forward and kiss him lightly, gently. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and opens his mouth slightly, his hand slipping to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

"I've missed this," he says softly against my lips. "I've missed you."

I pull back and just look at his face. How did I ever think I could drive him away? It would be like losing half of myself ; the best half. His eyes are still closed and there is a small, pleased smile on his face.

Lowering my head again I trail my tongue down the side of his neck to the hollow of his throat, then continue down his chest, avoiding the angry scar on his side. He keeps a hand in my hair, not guiding or pushing me; just resting it there.

I want to cover his body with my own; show him how deep my love for him is, but that would hurt his still-healing injuries, so instead I pull myself back up and gather him into my arms, not holding tightly, just being there.

He sighs and settles his head in the crook of my shoulder, one arm around my waist, long fingers tracing random patterns on my back. The other hand is trapped between us and he rests it on my belly, not moving it.

"S'nice," he says softly. The warmth of his breath against my neck feels good; right, and I pull him closer so that he can feel my arousal.

"Oh," he says. "That's nice too." The hand on my back keeps tracing, but now he seems to have a goal in mind as the random movement stops and he begins very deliberately sweeping his fingers up and down my spine, dragging his nails along the more sensitive areas of skin.

I reach my head down and kiss his shoulder which is the most accessible part of his body and I feel him twitch against me. I reach down, tracing my hand down his belly, past his groin and to the top of his legs, then back up. He shifts against me, muttering something, then raises his head. His eyes are open now and he looks at me for what seems a long time. Just as I am about to ask him what he's thinking, he shakes his head slightly and smiles, reaching up to kiss me.

During the kiss I move my hand again, closing it around his hardening cock, moving my hand slowly. It's a sweet torment for him and he pushes against me harder, then breaks the kiss, laying his head back on my shoulder.

"Come on Frase," he whispers. "Come on." He begins to shift his hips in a familiar rhythm.

"Ray," I put a hand in his hair, pulling his head up. "Ray, look at me. Please let me see you."

My hand begins to work faster in the way I know he likes, and with blind obedience he gazes into my eyes. I love him like this; his breathing speeds up and he makes the most gloriously needy noises in his throat. He's biting his lip now to stop himself speaking. He wants to close his eyes too; Ray has told me often enough that he likes to feel all the sensations at times like this and it's easier to do that with his eyes closed. But I have asked him to keep his eyes open and for me he'll try.

"Oh Jesus Fraser," he gasps out as I stop moving. "Now isn't the time for teasing, okay? Please, just..." He shifts his hips against me in a blatant invitation. The movement brings his belly into direct contact with my erection and his whole body goes still for a second. Then he puts his head back on my shoulder and laughs.

"Okay," he says. "Okay, you only had to ask..."

He pushes at me until I roll over onto my back and then lies full length on me.

"Ray," I say, concerned. "I don't want you to hurt yourself.."

"I won't Fraser, but I may hurt you if you don't shut up for just a second."

He kisses his way down my chest, and pulls off my shorts, then slides back up my body. He reaches between us and holds us together as he begins to move again.

"This okay?" he says breathlessly, and I nod.

My attention is caught again by the scar on his chest. It still looks red and angry and, without thinking about it, I put my fingers lightly on it, wishing I could change the past.

"Don't Frase," he says. "Don't look at that. Look at me." He thrusts a little harder with his hips for emphasis, and I do as I am told, looking at him, drinking in the sight of him.

He doesn't have his full strength back and it's not long before I tip him over onto his back and take over. He throws his arms out to either side of him and tilts his head back; he looks like lust personified and that thought pushes me over the edge, coming over his legs and belly. When I can focus my thoughts again I look at him lying below me, panting and sweating. He's smiling, but there's frustration in his eyes and I realise that he didn't come as well. I lean forward to kiss him, then quickly lower myself and take him into my mouth.

The arch of his back as I do so must have hurt him, but the only noise he makes is a grunt of utter need. He lasts about 30 seconds and I drink everything he has, wishing for more.

I pull myself up and lie to one side of him, pulling him back into my arms and holding him as tightly as I dare. He's breathing hard and his skin is flushed, but I don't think he's in any pain.

"Ray?" I just have to re-assure myself.

"Mmm?" he says.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Frase, you shouldn't even have to ask," he mumbles, heading for sleep at an alarming rate. "Jesus, I missed you."

I stroke his back gently and he purrs softly, but sleep is claiming him. I want to talk to him, I want to make sure that my Ray is back with me, but he tires so easily that I'll just have to show a little patience.

I feel like I've been asleep about five minutes when I feel my shoulder being shaken. Oh god, what does he want now? It's nice to be back, but I'm tired and my chest really hurts.

I open my eyes and my chest starts to hurt even more as I find myself, again, looking straight down the barrel of a gun held by a dark haired woman.

"Don't speak," she says quietly. "Get up and come into the living room."

When I don't move fast enough, she lowers the gun and pokes at the hole she made in me last time, then she beckons with the gun.

I don't argue. I just climb out of bed and do as she tells me. I feel incredibly vulnerable; I'm completely naked and I didn't shower so I'm real sticky from before. I smell of Fraser.

"Kneel there," she points to the centre of the living room floor. I ache all over and I really don't want to do that, but one look at her face makes me realise that what I want doesn't really come into this equation.

She stands behind me and puts the gun against the back of my head. Oh god. She really means it this time. She's going to kill me and it will destroy Fraser.

"Don't," I say. "You must know that if I die, you die. He won't let you get away again."

"What makes you think that?" she asks. "Once you're finally out of the picture he'll come to his senses. Should have done it properly before."

I hear the safety being clicked off and I close my eyes. Oh Jesus Fraser I'm sorry. I'm sorry...

"But don't worry, Detective Kowalski," she suddenly says. "I've got other things in mind for you, at least for a little while. We'll start with handcuffs."

"I'm sorry?" I can't help it. Handcuffs? Is she into some kind of bondage thing?

"I don't think you're much of a threat to me," she says. "You seem really weak still; after all, that session in bed tired you out, but I'd like to keep you under control."

"Session in - ? Oh Jesus, you were here?" My voice is a bit louder than I intended and she clips me on the back of the head with the butt of the gun.

"Yes, I was here," she says, and her voice is cold. "You really should have a word with your landlady. You think you've taken him away from me don't you? Don't you believe it. Now, where are the handcuffs?"

"Er , I don't actually know," I say, perfectly honestly. She doesn't like it and clips me again. Shit, that hurt!

"Why don't you know? What do you mean?"

"Look lady, thanks to you I've been off work for fuck knows how long. I can't remember where everything is. Anyway, Fraser's been clearing up. He's probably filed them somewhere."

"Very well. He can find them when he wakes up. You move before then and I'll blow your head off."

She means it.

I wake from a surprisingly deep sleep because the bed feels cold. Reaching out with one hand, I realise that I'm alone.

"Ray?" I squint into the gloom. We have slept the afternoon away.

"Frase?" Ray's voice comes from the direction of the living room. "Could you come in here for just a second?"

Something about his voice frightens me; he sounds tense, almost frightened. Oh god, what if something I did to him earlier has hurt him?

I clamber out of bed as quickly as possible and almost run into the living room.

He's there. He's kneeling on the floor with a gun pressed against the back of his head.

"Hello, Ben," says Victoria. "You certainly enjoyed your afternoon didn't you? I never realised this little pervert meant so much to you."

"Let him go," I say, hardly able to breathe. He looks pale and ill; I can see him sweating from here. But his eyes are steady as they meet mine.

"No," she says. "He's my ticket out of here. We're all going to the border and he'll see me safely across it. He's a cop, he can talk his way over. Then it'll be you and me, Ben, just like it's supposed to be. We'll be together again."

"And what about Ray?" I ask.

"What about him? Once we're safe we'll dump him somewhere."

"Victoria, you haven't thought this out at all," I say. "You must realise that you can't get away with this. You'll be arrested the second you set foot outside this building."

"No, I won't," she says, looking at me out of haunted eyes. "We can do it if we're together."

"We won't be together," I say. "Victoria, it's Ray that I want, not you. Please let him go. He's never done anything to hurt you."

"Yes he has!" she almost shouts it. "He took you away from me, didn't he?"

"No, no he didn't," I say. "We were already over when Ray and I met.."

"We're not over Ben," she says. "How can you say that? We belong together. Him?" She gestures at Ray with the gun. "He's nothing. He's not worth it. You don't love him, how can you? It's me that you love."

I don't answer. I look again at Ray. He's beginning to look grey, and he hasn't said a word since he called me into the living room.

"Ray, are you okay?" I ask.

He starts to nod, then stops as Victoria holds the gun closer against his head.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Just a bit weirded out, y'know?"

"Yes, I know," I answer. "I'm s..."

"No!" he says. "Don't ever say that to me. None of this is because of you."

"Well this is all very lovely," Victoria interrupts. She puts a hand in Ray's hair and pulls his head back. I can see his pulse, quick and thready, and the convulsive swallow as he tries not to throw up from the sudden movement.

"You're nothing but a filthy pervert," she whispers into his ear, tracing down his jawline with the gun. "You will see me safe across the border and you won't do anything to try and trace me. Because if you do, Ben's dead. Do you understand?"

Ray nods slightly, seemingly hypnotised by Victoria's voice. A feeling I know well.

"And you," she says, releasing Ray, causing him to fall forwards onto his hands and knees. "If you try and stop me leaving or if you don't come with me when I go, I will blow his head off as soon as I'm across the border. You know that I will, don't you Ben?"

"You know that I will, don't you Ben?" she says, and I see Fraser nod once.

Fuck, I hate this. I hate feeling so weak and sick that I can't trust myself to even stand up, never mind try to disarm her. Why didn't we go for Dief yesterday? Why is my landlady such a stupid woman?

This woman is mad. Seriously insane, and she's gonna kill me real soon. She may even kill Fraser, even though she thinks she loves him. I can't let her do that. I can't let her hurt him again.

I can hardly see because of the pain in my head; there's at least one gash across the nape of my neck where she caught me with the gun, and blood has been running steadily down my back for a while now. It's certainly adding to my all-round feeling of about to hurl my guts up-ness. Either that or collapse on the floor and refuse to move-ness. Still don't know which.

"Victoria, you're condemning us all to a life on the run," says Fraser reasonably. "Why are you doing that? You can't love me if you're willing to do that to me."

"Ben, of course I love you," she says. "You know that. It's always been you. You're a part of me, just like I'm a part of you."

He sighs. "No Victoria," he says, and I look up at him. He's looking at me and I can read everything in that look; the hurt, the shame, the pain. He thinks this is all his fault and he'll never stop blaming himself if anything happens to me. I can't go to my grave with that on my conscience.

"Listen lady," I say. "If we're going, then let's go. But I gotta shower and dress, so let me do that and then we'll all go. Okay?"

I feel her move behind me and the next thing, she's crouching down by my side.

"Okay," she says. "Go get ready to leave. Ben and I will stay here, so don't do anything silly will you?" She digs the gun into my temple just to make her point and I hear Fraser draw in a breath.

"No I won't do anything silly," I answer.

She lets me get up. I make a point of walking out of the room with no sign of weakness; not for her or for me; for Fraser. He can't see how bad I feel because it's just something else he'll blame himself for, and he's done enough of that in his life, especially where this woman is concerned.

I look at him as I leave the room and I wink at him. He looks old, worn down, and that's not how I want to remember my Mountie. We'll get out of this just like we always do. And I'll take responsibility for it because he doesn't need any more shit from this bitch.

"So just what do you see in him, Ben?" she asks as I watch Ray go into the bedroom. He's trying to hide it but he's ill, still weak from his injury. The activities of the afternoon have exhausted him as well.

"Ben?" I hear her voice, sharper this time and turn to her. There's nothing left in me that belongs to her. All the darkness and shadows I thought would always be there have been driven away by the blazing light that is Ray. All I see now is a sick, troubled woman who under other circumstances I would feel pity for. But she hurt Ray, and that I can never forgive.

"I love him," I say, shrugging my shoulders; a very Ray like move I realise. "He's the other half of me."

"No, Ben, I'm the other half of you!" she says. "We complete the circle. He's just some pastime. You've just been waiting for me." She lowers the gun to her lap; she's dismissed Ray as being too weak or sick to be a threat, and she realises that I will never make a move against her; not if there's a chance Ray will be hurt.

"If that's how it is, then why don't we leave?" I ask her. "Leave Ray here, he won't say anything."

She shakes her head, curls floating around her face. I used to love watching that. Now it just makes me think of tendrils of darkness, reaching out to wrap around all the light in this world. I see it so clearly now; she's evil right down to her soul. There's no hope for her, there never was.

"We can't leave him," she says. "He's a cop, he'll be useful to us. But once we're across the border, I told you, we'll dump him."

"Please don't kill him." It's out before I can stop it and I curse myself, wishing I could take the words back. She doesn't need any encouragement to harm him, and that's what I'm doing by my open despair. I'm encouraging her.

"If he's a good boy, he'll be fine," she says, then sits back in the chair, eyes on the bedroom door.

We're silent for a few minutes, then she suddenly stands up.

"What's taking him so long?" she says, and heads for the bedroom.

It's up to me. I have to get rid of her so that Fraser can be free of her; well , so that we can both be free of her. If that means I have to kill her then that's how it'll be. She's a killer and she's mad. She's not causing Fraser any more pain.

I take a quick shower and pull on jeans. I don't put a shirt on yet because the injury she caused me is really hurting now. I'd love a pain pill, but they're in the kitchen, and I don't want to have to go out there again until I'm ready to face her.

As quietly as I can, I open the dresser drawer and scrabble about under the socks and shorts until I find my spare gun. Fraser always laughs because I have so many guns, but I keep telling him that you never know when you'll need one..

Just as I get a grip on the thing I hear a noise in the doorway. Oh shit. I know for damn sure it's not going to be Fraser. I try and get the safety off of the damn thing but I feel like crap and my eyes are hardly focusing. Finally. I turn around and raise the gun all in one movement.

Next thing I'm sent halfway across the bed by an explosion of pain in my shoulder. My only coherent thought is 'Not again'

I watch her as she walks to the bedroom door. For once my logical mind has deserted me; I don't know what to do. It seems that every way I turn I come across one fact; she will hurt Ray if I try anything. And between us, we've hurt him enough.

She suddenly tenses and raises her arm, so I stand up and look over her shoulder. Ray has his back to the door and is fiddling with something on the dresser. As he begins to turn, time slows and I think I actually see her finger tightening on the trigger. I can't let this happen.

I launch myself at her back but can't stop the gun going off. Out of my peripheral vision I see Ray fly backwards across the bed and then lie still, but I can't spare the time to help him, not yet, because Victoria still has the gun and is wriggling in my arms, determined to get free.

"Damn you Ben!" she says breathlessly. "Now you've killed him. How the hell do I get across the border now?"

No! I can't believe he's dead; I can't let her make me believe that. It's too futile to think of losing him in this fashion.

I see her hand come towards me but I am unable to do anything because to let her go would be death for me. The gun catches me on the side of the head and I feel blood start to run down my face. She does it again and again. On the third time I grab her wrist and force it away from me. I manage to straddle her and kneel on her wrist trying to get the gun out of her hand. A ridiculous position of pseudo intimacy. I am still naked.

She bucks with surprising force, and then lies still, the fight gone out of her.

"What now Ben?" she whispers. "What happens now?"

"Now I arrest you Victoria," I say. "And this time there's no escaping, there's no going back."

She struggles again, and her hand slips free, but then she lies quiet again.

"I can't," she says. "I can't let you do that."

"You can't stop me," I say.

She looks up at me and I see it in her eyes; the madness, the evil. The hatred.

"Watch me," she whispers.

Too stupid, too slow to react, I can't stop her as she raises her hand, the hand with the gun in it. She places it against her temple and pulls the trigger.

My fucking shoulder hurts. My fucking chest hurts. Hell, I hurt just about everywhere. But I can feel a hand, gentle on my face, and it's him, I know it's him.

Forcing my eyes open I start to try and say something reassuring, but then I see him. He's covered in blood and his eyes look haunted.

"Wha..?" I say intelligently, trying to move my own hand, but I think I've been paralysed.

"It's okay, Ray," he says. "Everything will be okay now."

"'toria?" I manage to get out.

"Don't think about her. She's gone."

My stupid mind can't make the connection immediately, but then it suddenly hits me like a truck. Oh fuck, that was supposed to be my job, not his!

"Jesus, Frase," I mumble. "I'm so sorry."

He lifts up one of my hands and kisses the palm, shaking his head.

"No, don't be sorry," he says. "In the end, perhaps it's for the best. She couldn't have handled prison."

For the best! Sure, you've just killed the woman you thought was the love of your life, and you're saying 'don't be sorry'! I try and sit up, but then I collapse back on the bed, feeling warmth on my shoulder as fresh blood flows out of the latest bullet hole.

"Stay still Ray. Help's coming."

What about help for you Fraser? Who's gonna help you?

*

The next time I wake up I'm in a hospital bed again. And Fraser's with me, again. And he's crying like a baby, arms on the bed, head hidden. I reach out a really pathetically weak hand and rest it on his head.

"Hey," I say as loudly as I can. Not very, then.

He looks up and wipes his face, embarrassed at having being caught crying.

"Hey," he says in return. "How are you feeling?"

"Why do people always ask that?" I say, feigning annoyance. "I'm in hospital, and I've been shot. How do you think I'm feeling?"

"I'm sorry Ray," he says. "I'm so sorry."

"No, nothing's your fault," I say. "Not a thing." I pause, swallowing. My mouth's real dry, and only partly from thirst. "I'm real sorry about Victoria. I wanted to be the one to ... take care of it. I didn't want this to be on you."

"She took care of it herself," he says softly. I can't think what he means and then it suddenly hits home. The fucking bitch! To do that to him ... god, she couldn't stop herself making the grand gesture.

"Jesus Frase..." I don't know what to say, but I take hold of one of his hands and squeeze it as tightly as I can. He hangs on tight like I'm some kind of lifeline. Maybe I am.

"I'll be out of here soon," I say. "I'll look after you, okay? Let me look after you for once."

He looks at me, so lost, so gorgeous. He needs me. For what may be the first time ever he needs me, and I promise myself that I won't let him down. I won't let this bitch come between us.

We don't say anything else. But he doesn't let go of my hand.

THE END