This is a sequal to Abduction, rated PG-13 for language. H/C, Angst, M/F. It is written for a challenge that Mary Ann gave me, Because I once again killed off dear ray in the last story, I love to do that to her :), and I hope she likes the way it developed. Thanks Mary Ann

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By: Amethyst
 
 

         Benton Fraser glanced up from where he sat drinking tea at a small café, to see a woman get of a taxi and head for the clinic across the street. There was something familiar about her but the Mountie couldn't place where he had seen her. She turned suddenly as the stiff north wind caught hold of her hat and she struggled to keep it from flying off.  His eyes widened as he stared at the prominent face of Beth Botrell, before she turned and headed into the building.
         What was she doing in Ottawa? He finished his tea quickly, dropped some money for the waitress and grabbed his Stetson off the chair beside him. He hurried across the busy intersection and into the adjacent clinic. He couldn't think of why she would be here, but he was sure it was she. Fraser would never forget the woman's face, after all he and Ray had gone through to get her execution stayed so long ago. Ray had taken his involvement in her arrest hard and had fought valiantly to get her released and prove her innocent.
         A sadness enveloped Fraser's heart as he thought of the partner he had lost just a little over a year ago. He still missed Ray terribly, though living with Billy took some of the pain from his memories of the blond detective. Billy Tallant could be Ray Kowalski's twin, with only a very few self-distinctions between them.
          Billy was much more into clothes and jewelry, but then touring with Jenifur, a band he played guitar for, he had to have a good appearance. Billy's accent was distinctly Canadian and he smoked like a chimney the majority of the time. Billy was working hard to make a name for himself as a great musician and he was trying to make up for the ramble rousing unconcerned youth he used to be.
         Fraser had met him on the plane from Chicago on his way to Calgary and the Mountie had been stunned by the resemblance the punk singer held to his old partner Ray Kowalski. They had both recently lost someone dear to them, Billy had lost his best friend Joe, the lead singer from Billy's old band Hard Core Logo, who had killed himself outside a bar after their last tour together.
         Billy had offered to put Fraser up until he got settled and show him around Calgary. Fraser had accepted it as a short-term arrangement, but a few weeks turned into a few months and a few months turned into a year living together. Fraser sensed Billy just didn't want to be alone, and though he was very busy touring and making records, he told Fraser he liked having someone to come home to.
          He had retained visitation rights for his five-year-old daughter Billie and the girl came to see them whenever Billy was not on the road. He had attempted to get full custody, but knew until things slowed down for Jenifur that he would have no time to spend with her, so he requested visitation to get her used to him until he could get dual custody from Mary, the mother of his child.
         His resemblance to Ray Kowalski still sometimes brought up sad memories for Fraser, but Billy was a good friend and never asked anything more than the Mountie was willing to give.
         "Miss. Botrell!" Fraser called as he spotted her by the nurses counter. She turned startled and stared at him a long time before she spoke. She had regained some of her youthful appearance, her features appearing softer than he remembered and her hair was styled in an attractive flow about her shoulders.
         "C...Constable Fraser?" she asked surprised as he came to a halt before her and she looked him up and down in his traditional red serge that was so painfully familiar to her.
         "Actually it is Sergeant Fraser, now." He informed without a trace of arrogance. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here. Whatever are you doing in Canada?" Beth eyed him warily, but she couldn't help but offer him a small smile.
         "Congratulations on your promotion." She remarked softly. "I though you were in Alberta or Manitoba, or some other part of Canada."
         "My current post is in Alberta." He acknowledged easily, his Stetson fidgeting between his hands. "I am here in Ottawa on business. What brings you here?"
         "I...I'm visiting a friend." She managed her eyes darting behind her for a moment before resting on him again. "Whom, I really should go and see."
         "Oh, of course." Fraser agreed politely. "It was very good to see you again. Will you be here long? Perhaps we could meet for tea?"
        "I don't..." she began to refuse, but the eagerness in his deep cerulean blue eyes was her undoing and she found herself nodding. "I'd love to. Tomorrow perhaps, around noon at that café across the street I saw on the way in here."
         "Wonderful." Fraser approved offering her one of his rare smiles and she knew then that she had made the correct decision. "I will see you then. Please take care." She nodded and started to move away, but he called her back. "Who is it you are visiting? A family member?"
         "A...a very dear friend." She evaded. "I will see you later Cons...I mean Sgt. Fraser." Fraser tipped his hat and turned to leave. He was curious of course who she might be seeing, he hadn't thought she knew anyone in Canada, but then he really didn't know very much about her at all.
 

         Beth entered the darkened room quietly so as not to awaken the person sleeping in the bed, and placed the bag she had brought with her in the accommodating chair. She removed her coat and hat and draped them over the back of the chair them moved toward the prone figure, only slightly startled when he moved. She moved closer to place soft lips against a pale temple and caressed the cheek that was not wrapped in bandages affectionately.
         "Hi there, handsome." She greeted warmly and watched him smile only a little.
         "Hey." He returned quietly. "You smell nice."
         "I wore this special scent just for you, my darling." She assured moving away to retrieve something from the bag, then returned to place something soft and furry in his hands. "This is for you."
         "What is it?" he asked as his fingers inspected the toy where his eyes could not.
         "It's a big, fuzzy moose!" she exclaimed delighted, hoping it would pull another smile from him, but her effort failed. He let the toy slip out of his fingers as he moved it to the foot of the bed.
         "Thank you." He murmured and she sighed.
         "Hey! I looked all over for that thing for you!" she teased. "Do you know how many stores only carry live moose in Canada?" He shrugged. "Darling, why are you so sad? Your operation is in just a couple of days and the doctors are sure it will go splendidly." Another shrug. "Your other operation went well."
         "How do you know?" he demanded quietly. "The bandages aren't off yet, I could still look like a monster." Beth sat on the bed and pulled his hands between hers.
         "You never looked like a monster..."
         "I did!" he declared angrily. "Just because I can't see what I look like doesn't mean I don't know I'm a freak!" The last word tore a sob from his throat and he turned away from her.
         "When you get your eye sight back you will see that you're just as handsome as ever." She promised.
         "Stop lying to me, please." he muttered, his words muffled by the pillow he had buried his face in. "Anyone but you can lie to me and I don't care, but please not you." She bit her lip and blinked back the sudden tears that rushed into her eyes. She reached across and pulled him back to face her, pulling him into her embrace.
         "I'll never lie to you." She promised touching her lips to his once more and kissing him softly. He uttered another painful sob as his hands moved to pull her face closer to deepen the kiss. Beth finally pulled back and cradled his head against her breast.
         "I love you." He whispered brokenly as his tears flowed.
         "I love you, my sweet." She returned gently. "I wish I could do more for you."
         "You do enough." He murmured. "You're my savior Beth." She closed her eyes and rocked him in her arms until he drifted back to sleep.
 

         Beth met Fraser at noon the next day, he was in civilian clothes, blue jeans and a red turtle neck sweater, with a new black bomber jacket and of course his Stetson. He held the chair out for her and then settled himself.
         "How is your friend?' Fraser asked automatically and Beth tensed.
         "My friend is doing as well as can be expected." She returned finally as their tea and the sandwiches they ordered arrived. "He's having an operation done on his eyes, hopefully to regain his sight."
         "They have some very fine doctors here." Fraser offered kindly. "Some say the best in the world."
         "Yes, that's why we came here." She commented as she took a sip of her tea, deciding to steer the topic in a different direction. "So what have you been up to Fraser?"
         "Oh, working mostly." He replied easily. "I am living with a friend in Calgary, he is a musician but since he is hardly ever home it is almost like living alone some times." Beth laughed and nodded.
         "I had a roommate in college like that." She remarked. "Hardly ever saw her there, but the fact that she lived there helped keep me from getting very lonely." Fraser nodded and she leaned forward. "Do you get lonely, Fraser?" For a long time she thought he wasn't going to answer her, it was obvious that he wasn't comfortable with the question.
         "Not as much as I used to." He finally admitted then with a rueful smile added. "Billy doesn't allow me to get down when he is around, he is very adamant about keeping my spirits up."
          His smile faded, and though he couldn't believe he was about to get more intimate with a woman he hardly knew, he found a solemn understanding in her eyes that allowed him to continue.
         "When Billy is gone for weeks at a time I do get lonely sometimes, often it can't be helped." He shook his head as his large hand wrapped around his mug of tea, as though trying to ward of the chill that suddenly seemed to penetrate him. "I suppose after been used to always having someone...a close friend and partner who is always there, getting used to solace is difficult." Beth reached over and covered one of his hands with her own, glad when he did not pull away.
         "You miss him terribly don't you?" she whispered and Fraser nodded without hesitation. They did not need to speak the name to know whom it was the Mountie longed for.
         "I blame myself for his death." He sighed. "I should have done more. I never should have gone along with Victoria in any circumstance."
         "From what I heard there was nothing more you could have done, Benton." She offered soothingly. "Victoria was mad, she would have stopped at nothing to destroy any and all in her path."
         "Perhaps that is true." Fraser acknowledged darkly. "But her death does not make Ray's murder justified."
         "No, it doesn't." Beth agreed. "Perhaps we'll never know why she did what she did."
         Fraser took a deep breath then seemed to regain control of himself again, the cool Mountie mask she had come to know slipped into place as a tall man in a long coat and black boots headed for their table. She watched Fraser brighten and turned to stare at the man in shock. Fraser noticed her expression and quickly explained.
         "Ms. Botrell, this is my friend Billy Tallant." He introduced quickly as the musician held out his hand politely.
         "Hi, how's it going?" She gapped at him, unable to even move as he removed his cowboy hat, making the resemblance even greater. Billy grinned and took her hand, placed it in his, shook it briefly, then settled next to Fraser who had moved to the inside of the booth to allow him to sit down.
         "I apologize for not preparing you, Ms. Botrell." Fraser stated concerned. "I did not know he would be here."
         "Let me guess." Billy surmised as Beth finally gathered her bearings. "You must be a friend of Ben's from Chicago and I'll just bet you knew Ray." She nodded, still unable to find her voice. Billy tried to diffuse the situation by cracking a joke. "That's it! I'm dying my hair black and growing a beard." Beth managed to laugh breathlessly.
         "I...I am sorry." She finally managed. "I just...the resemblance is, well remarkable." She glanced at Fraser who was watching his roommate pull out a cigarette and start to light it, only to have the Mountie pull it from his lips and replace it with a bread stick.
         "He is trying to quit." Fraser offered toward the question in he eyes as Billy munched dejectedly on his bread stick.
         "Got any idea what it's like living with a Mountie?' Billy grumbled, though his gray blue eyes twinkled merrily. "He never forgets a word you tell him, not a thing. I make one lousy joke about giving up smoking after a few two many beers and suddenly it's his life work to help me." Beth hid her smile behind her napkin.
         "You did say you needed to stop smoking when your daughter was around, Billy." Fraser reminded unaffected by his grouchiness.
         "Yah, when she's around, sure." Billy agreed. "But that doesn't mean I have to go cold turkey."
         "I am not suggesting you do, Billy." Fraser insisted calmly. "I cannot stop you from smoking when you are touring or any where that I am not, so you can smoke all you want then." Billy glared at him, but ended up grinning as Fraser stared blankly back.
         "I cannot stay mad at him!" he sighed disgusted to Beth. "He's just two fu...OW! I...I mean too darn innocent looking." Beth was biting her lip from laughing, she knew Fraser had kicked the other man under the table and she tried not to notice the blonde's hand rubbing his lower leg.
         "Would you like me to refresh your tea?" a waitress asked appearing beside them with a teapot. Both Fraser and Beth accepted some more of the brew and she asked if Billy would like to order. He asked for a hamburger, fries and a coffee then watched her walk off, his eyes enjoying the view.
         "Speaking of refreshing treats I'd like to...Ouf!" He turned back and glared at the innocent eyed Mountie beside him. "Damnit Ben I'm going to have a bruise there tomorrow." Beth couldn't hold back the laugh that slipped from her and Billy grinned in return.
         "What are you doing here, Billy?" Fraser inquired changing the subject. "I thought you were going to be in Vancouver for another week?"
         "We finished up early and since I knew you wouldn't be home, I just came here instead to surprise you." He rubbed his shin pensively. "But with the abuse I'm receiving I may just go home and change the locks." Fraser smiled, knowing he was only teasing.
         "Ms. Botrell is here visiting a friend who is having eye surgery tomorrow." He announced.
         "How long you going to be here." Billy asked her as his food arrived and his gaze lingered once more on the pretty waitress.
         "I'll be here until next Tuesday." She stated.
         "Well, why don't we shack up..." Billy began then looked at Fraser's expression with a grin. "I mean grab a hotel to flop at and you two can visit some more."
         "Don't you have to fly off somewhere?' Fraser asked wryly and Billy flipped him the bird.
         "Fly this Mountie boy." He retorted then to Beth. "Sorry, couldn't help myself, he brings out the worst in me. I don't have to be anywhere for another month or more, so we can hang out a few extra days here and see the sights. You two can visit and talk over old times, I can find me a nice piece of..."
         "Billy!" Fraser warned and the guitar player grinned. Beth could see he was doing it just to get a rise out of the Mountie.
         "I have to get going." Beth suddenly decided glancing at her watch. "Let me give you my number here and we can get together then, if you are going to stay."
         "Only if I can find a bar of soap big enough for Billy's mouth." Fraser returned as he rose with her politely and accepted the number on the piece of paper she had given him from her purse.
         "That's not buddies." Billy grumbled and Beth smiled at them. She couldn't believe the difference in Fraser with the other man, he was much more personable then she remembered. Although she knew it was probably a mistake, she wanted to see them again, both of them. Fraser walked her as far as the door, where she caught a cab, then returned to the table.
         "You are incorrigible." He decided as Billy bit into his hamburger.
         "Ah, Bite me." He retorted and Fraser smiled.
         "That's not buddies." He teased and Billy glanced at him over his coffee mug, his eyes holding a special message for Fraser of just how good buddies they were.

         Beth waited quietly in the now familiar hospital room for him to awaken. The doctors had said the surgery had gone well, now they had to wait and see if it worked. The bandages that covered his eyes could be removed in a day or so, then they would know more. Beth had been fearful throughout the long operation, unable to help worry about the outcome.
         She had gone to see Fraser and Billy again a few times over the past few days and had enjoyed her time with them, yet there was still that condemned look in the Mounties's eyes that she could hardly bare to look at. It didn't seem to matter what the rest of him was doing, Fraser's eyes looked old, sad and flooded with grief over the death of his partner.
          Beth didn't know how much longer she could allow the Mountie to go on the way he was, it wasn't right, but it wasn't her place to interfere either.  She meant to bring it up toady, since they would be leaving soon. He had to know what was going on, she had to make him understand.
         "Beth?' The soft voice carried through the room toward her and she immediately moved to his side and took his hands in hers.
         "I'm here, honey." She assured and felt him relax instantly at her touch. "Were you having another nightmare?"  He nodded. "Want to talk about it?"
         "Same one as always." He returned with a shaky breath. "I thought they had stopped." She soothed the hair over his brow.
         "It's just because of so much happening, love." She decided. "You're stressed and so they are staring up again." He nodded. "I...I need to talk to you."
         "What about?"
         "Someone is here in Ottawa." She informed. "Someone I think you should see." He shook his head adamantly.
         "I don't want to see anyone." He refused. "I haven't...."
         "It's been almost a year." She pressed, hoping with all her heart that this didn't end up destroying what trust they had built up between them. "This person is someone who really cares about you and..."
         "Who is it?' he demanded and she stiffened, unprepared to answer so quickly.
        "It....it's Fraser. He..."
         "NO!" The man screamed tearing away from her and reaching for and finding the first available object, his dinner tray, to throw against the wall.
         "You need to see him." she insisted. "He has to know you're not..."
         "I said no!" the man returned furious. "I never want to see him, NEVER!" Beth blinked at the tears in her eyes.
         "You have to." She sobbed distressed at his anger. "He's your friend, your..."
         "He's no one." The man spat. "He is nothing to me, you got that? Nothing!"
         "But he's been through so much, love." She urged she had to make him understand. "He needs you and you need him. You were both so close there has to be..."
         "There is nothing between us." The man decreed. "Get out! If you can't stop talking about him, then get out and stay out! I never want to hear his name again!" Beth flew from the room in anguish and hurried down the hall. What had she done? Dear God what had she done?
 

         Fraser smiled at the pretty nurse and moved toward the room assigned to Inspector Trubedeu, who had broken his foot early, that morning by trying to show off his riding skills to some of the young recruits. The man was eighty-seven, and not as spry as he once was. He never should have tried to jump that fence in the courtyard.
          He paused by room 316 and knocked briefly before entering. Instead of the endearingly grumpy Inspector, he found another man stretched out on the hospital bed, the dim lighting in the room casting shadows over the half of his face that wasn't bandaged and made it difficult for Fraser to notice anymore than his hair was a light color. The man's eyes were bandaged and Fraser briefly wondered if this was Beth Botrell's friend. Not wishing to intrude further on the man's privacy he stepped forward politely.
         "I am terribly sorry," he offered.  "I seem to have the wrong room, I was looking for someone else. I didn't mean to disturb you." After receiving no response, Fraser suspected the patient was asleep and he quietly retreated, closing the door behind him.
         Stanley Kowalski's head turned toward the sound of the closing door as he inhaled the subtle scent of saddle soap, leather and a lingering outdoor breeze. A tear slipped from beneath his bandaged eyes to roll down his cheek.
         "Fraser." He sobbed tormented.
 
 

         Beth took a deep breath and knocked on the hotel door where Fraser had told her they were staying at. There was music coming from inside and it stopped after her third knock, and then the door opened and Billy grinned at her pleased.
         "Hey, pretty lady." He greeted pulling her inside and closing the door; he wore just a pair of jeans, no shirt or shoes. He grabbed a T-shirt off the back of the sofa and shrugged into it out of politeness of her arrival.
         "Is Benton here, Billy?" she asked barely noticing the grand suite in which she stood.
         "No." he replied as he picked up his cigarette from the ashtray on the coffee table and propped it between his lips, inhaling deeply before continuing. "He went to visit some old fart Mountie that fell off his horse." Beth allowed herself a small smile. "Want a drink? You look like you could use one." She nodded and he moved to the small fridge, offering her a soda. "No beer, sorry."
         "This is fine." She assured quietly as she watched him sweep the sofa clear of his sheet music and electric guitar so she could sit down. "Am I interrupting your work?"
         "No." he replied taking another drag on his cigarette. "I'm just fooling around, waiting until Ben gets back."
         "I thought you quit smoking." She commented watching him shrug and grin.
         "I don't have many vices left, give me a break!" he declared amused. "I gave up fast women, fast cars, drinking mostly, and I'm working on the swearing part." She smiled for real then, amazed at how easily he could relax her. "Besides, I just try not to smoke around Fraser, thus the open window." Beth glanced toward the terrace doors, the thin white curtain flowing in the gentle, mildly cool breeze.
         "You're both very close aren't you?" she inquired softly and he nodded.
         "We've had to be I think." He replied. "When we met, we both had lost the person closest to us." He shrugged and puffed a few seconds before finishing. "I think it was fate that we met on that plane and I am glad we did. We each needed some one to lean on. It was rough for awhile, but we got through it okay I think." Beth nodded.
         "Benton still misses Ray very much though, doesn't he?"
         "Oh yeah, you can see it in his eyes can't you?" Billy agreed and she nodded once more. "When I first met him, you know after we got settled in my place at the time, I thought, what an odd bugger this one is. So controlled, so unemotional, barely a whisper of indecision in anything he does." He doused his cigarette and waved the smoke toward the window away from her. "Me, I was a major fu...er...screw up. I seemed to make a mess out of most of my life, with Joe's help of course."
         "Joe was the singer in your band that you lost?" she inquired and he nodded.
         "Yeah, Joe Dick...and what a dick he was sometimes." Billy mused sadly. "He was my best friend since I was thirteen, but he just didn't know when enough was enough. I wanted to make a career with my guitar, you know get produced, recorded all the stuff that comes with being a star. Joe, all he saw was the music, his music, except when he was coked up and..." Billy shook his head as if dispersing some awful memory. "Joe was too angry, too unpredictable for people to take him or his music seriously. While we were together, Hard Core Logo made beautiful music together, but Joe was bent on having' us remain f**kin' street musicians. He didn't under stand what it was all about-he had his own agenda."
         Billy rose to retrieve a soda for himself, then settled back in his chair and lit another cigarette. He took few thoughtful drags on it before he continued.
 "But, that was Joe, he'd never change. I agreed to try and do some more music with him, but then I got a call that said I was replacing the lead guitarist in Jenifur. It was what I had been waiting for and I knew Joe wouldn't understand." He twisted off his bottle top and took a few swallows of his drink, and then placed it next to Beth's on the table between them. "Anyway, We got into it. Some prick that was shooting a documentary film of us told him that I was leaving to go play with Jenifur. I was going to tell him after our last show, you know when we were all on that great high, but they had gotten to him first. He attacked me right there on the stage after our last set, just went f**king bezzerk, you know?" He shrugged and puffed some more on his cigarette again. "We both knew it was over after that, I mean a guy can take only so much. Anyway, Joe...maybe he felt bad about the fight, or maybe he was pissed about me leaving, I don't know. Whatever the reason he put a gun to his head and blew his f**king brains out and the f**king film crew got it all on tape the bastards. Just stood there and let him..." Billy broke off and rose to move toward the terrace.
         "I'm sorry." Beth offered stepping up behind him. "I...I never meant to bring up unpleasant memories."
         "No, it's okay." He assured with a gentle, but troubled smile. "It took me a long time to be able to even talk about it without following it with a few hundred vodka chasers and a whole lot of screaming." His lips quirked as he leaned against the doorframe and stared out at the view of the capital building. "Guess I'm healing."
         "I think so." She agreed quietly. They both stood there for a long moment; each trapped in their own troubled thoughts, until finally Billy turned toward her.
         "What were we talking about?" he inquired lightly and she smiled again as they moved back inside.
         "You and Benton." She reminded settling back in her seat.  "You were telling me how hard it was for you both after the death of your friends." Billy nodded and doused his second cigarette.
         "It was rough, like I said for me, but Ben had it really bad. " he replied honestly. "He had terrifying nightmares that always left him screaming when he woke up. Still has them some times, I think, just hides it better. He wasn't prepared to deal with his grief I guess he kept it bottled inside. I guess it's what he was used to, but it just made things worse for him. He had these really major headaches, he was snapping and loosing his temper, he even forgot to feed Dief for awhile, luckily I was there to save the poor animal from starving to death. Dief stays with a friend whenever both me and Fraser are away from home, too much hassle to cart him everywhere I think, like Ben used to, but then he treats that wolf like he's human." Billy reached to light another cigarette, then tossed it back in disgust and Beth smiled.
        "Even when he's not here to stop you, you still hear him, don't you?' she commented and Billy chuckled.
         "Ben's a hard guy to forget, that's for sure."
         "I believe you're right." She agreed quietly and he regarded her concerned.
         "Are you okay?" he asked. "I mean, is there any special reason why you want to know so much about what went on with Ben during that time?" Beth took a deep breath; she still had not even touched her soda.
         "I may have some information for him but I need to find out if it's better for him to know or to be kept in the dark awhile longer."
         "Anything you can tell me?" Billy offered gently and she shook her head regretfully. "That's cool. You gotta do what you gotta do. So back to what we were talking about." Beth nodded and leaned forward, listening intently.
 

         "Stan?" Beth greeted softly as she poked her head around the door to peek into his room, he preferred that she call him by his first name, perhaps Ray held too many memories for him.    "Are you awake, honey?"
         "Yes." He returned dully.
         "Can I come in or are you still in a mood?" she teased but he just shrugged and turned his face away from her. She bit her lip and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She moved toward his bed and held back her gasp, she could tell he had been crying.
         "What's it like outside, Beth?" he asked suddenly, an urgency in his voice similar to when he first woke up in the hospital without his sight. She smiled and moved over to pull the shades back so the sun would hit his face and warm him.
         "The sun is splitting the rocks, I heard someone say that on my way in here." She informed with a smile. "The birds are singing, the air is crisp and fresh, I can open your window a little further if you like." Stan nodded eagerly.
         "Is there snow?" he inquired.
         "There is still some left on the ground." She admitted returning to his side. "But it's nearly all gone, spring is here, my darling."
         "I want to go home." He muttered wistfully.
         "I know you do, and we will very soon." She soothed caressing his brow lovingly. "Your bandages come off tomorrow and you'll get to see how beautiful it is here."
         "I don't care how beautiful it is." He ground out, his jaw clenched in anger. "I hate this hospital, I hate these doctors and I hate this damn country!"
         "No," she protested mildly. "You like the doctor's because they will help you to see. You hate this hospital...well, you've never been fond of hospitals, no matter what country they're in, and you only hate this country because it reminds you of a certain someone near and dear to you."
         "I told you I didn't want him mentioned again, Beth!" he exclaimed and she tsked away his outburst.
         "Nonsense, you just said I couldn't mention his name and I didn't."
         "It's the same thing!"
         "Isn't."
         "It is!"
         "Isn't." she refused calmly, then growled close to his ear. "Give up now Kowalski, you know you can't win an argument with me, I'm older, wiser, and an ex-con-it'll never fly." Stan's lips twitched but instead of arguing further he nestled his head against her shoulder.
         "I can't help it, Beth." He whispered. "He...he was here yesterday." Beth gasped in surprise.
         "The one who's name I can't mention?" she asked and he nodded. "What did he say?"
         "Said he was sorry, he walked into the wrong room." Ray sighed. "I guess he didn't recognize me."
         "Gee, I wonder why?" Beth mused. "Could it be the lovely gothic lighting you keep yourself shrouded in day after day?" Ray shrugged. "Did you say anything to him?" He shook his head and she sighed.
         "I can't see him, Beth." He murmured. "Please don't ask me to. Don't tell him about me." Beth pursed her lips and considered his words carefully.
         She loved this brave, temperamental, mixed up man next to her and she couldn't bear seeing him hurt. But, after talking with Billy and seeing the way Fraser was, she had to believe that neither of them would ever heal properly without the other's help.
        Fraser believed Stan was still dead so did quite a few of those who knew him from the precinct, except Welsh. The Lieutenant had been the one to discover that the body they had buried, the one who had sustained the beating and gut shot wound had not been Kowalski. The other man had been the same height, coloring of the blond, but his face had been so badly disfigured from the beatings that they couldn't really say one way or the other if it had been the detective. Because they had found the body in the cell Kowalski had supposedly been held in, and he had Kowalski's ID and clothing on him, they assumed it was Stan.
        Everyone was so wracked with grief, no one thought to question it, until they received a phone call at the precinct about a week after the funeral, someone claiming to have one of their Detectives at their home. But they couldn't give an accurate description because the man's face had supposedly been burned by acid, so it was considered a crank call.
         It nagged Welsh for a few weeks more, until he finally had to check it out. He managed to trace the call to an old farmhouse about twelve miles away from where Victoria had held Fraser and Ray. The old man claimed that they had found the fellow in their cellar, didn't know how long he had been there, but he must have crawled inside and passed out.
         Welsh had asked them where the man was now, or if he had died, but they shook their heads. They informed him that when the police department didn't believe them, they called a woman, who had come to pick the man up. After they gave a description of lady, Welsh took off toward the other side of Chicago.
         Beth Botrell had moved out of the city upon her release from prison because she was constantly being harassed by the media, or people who believed her still guilty of killing her husband. She had purchased a house on the outskirts of the city and some farmland with it. According to the couple who had found the detective, Miss. Botrell collected the younger man and drove off, vowing that she would take care of him.
         At Beth's home, she first tried to blow the Lieutenant off, but Welsh was persistent and he noticed the older woman was wearing Ray's silver bracelet on her left wrist. Finally she relented and allowed him inside. Ray's face was mostly bandaged, but Welsh knew the detective by his eyes and his incorrigible hair. Ray could not see he had acid burns on sixty five percent of his face, and he could not speak above a harsh, distorted whisper because the men Victoria had hired to beat him at damaged his larynx.
         Beth related to Welsh the bits and pieces of what had happened to Kowalski that she had managed to understand from the injured detective. He and Fraser had been kidnapped. They did terrible things to him, though Beth wouldn't go into detail with Welsh the Lieutenant could well imagine. The detective knew he was being used as a pawn against Fraser and repeatedly tried to escape.
          Finally, one of the men working for Victoria took a liking to him and helped him to escape. They exchanged clothes and Stan had given the other man his Id so he could claim later that he found it outside somewhere and send Victoria on a false trail. Stan had tried to locate Fraser but the area was too thickly guarded, and he was already half out of his mind with the pain from the injuries he had sustained. He managed to find a phone in what looked to be some sort of laboratory and call the department. But they couldn't understand him because of his damaged voice and when Victoria walked in on him the two struggled and she ended up shooting at him, exploding a beaker of acid that was on the table next to him and the explosion threw him out the window behind him.
         He had fallen perhaps three stories, but managed to survive, though he couldn't see and was in excruciating pain. Someone, he suspected it was the one who helped him, picked him up and drove him away from the area. Stan woke up in the cellar, but unable to see or move from his injuries he was forced to lie there, listening to the occasional rats, smelling the damp mildew that surrounded him, hearing the wind blow outside and trapped in complete darkness. Stan surmised that the man who had picked him up, stashed him here intending to return, but Victoria must have uncovered the traitor and had him brutally beaten and killed.
        Beth informed Welsh that she had enlisted the help of a doctor friend that was coming out to treat him regularly, for he refused to go to a hospital. Ray, aside from the acid burning his face, had suffered four broken ribs, a fractured tailbone, a broken arm, two fractured wrists, a punctured lung, as well as a multitude of bruising and internal injuries. Over all, Welsh briefly wondered if the man might not have been better off if Victoria had shot him. Beth had her very own hospital room set up for the detective, with everything he could possibly need and the Kowalski seemed dependant on her.
         Welsh urged him to go to the hospital but he refused. He urged the detective to let him tell everyone he was alive, but again the detective refused. He wanted to see no one. He didn't want anyone to know that part of his life was over. Welsh tried to convince him to at least tell Fraser, who had left Chicago and returned to Canada, and Ray went ballistic, ripping tubes out and screaming in a voice that sounded both painful and demonic.
         Beth had calmed him down with a sedative and ordered Welsh to leave. Ray was sensitive about his ex- partner for some reason, but they would have to deal with his mental state after they healed his physical one. She made Welsh promise not to tell anyone until Ray was up to dealing with everything; he had been through enough.
         Ray had never been up to it. He told his parents and no one else. Wanting to protect their son the Kowalski's spoke of his resurrection to no one. Whenever Beth tried to pressure him into telling some of the others, he put her off and she really couldn't blame him. He still held a lot of bitterness and anger inside of him.
          He'd been through fourteen surgeries in the last year, just trying to repair the damage to his face. He'd had to learn to speak all over again and had lost much of his endearing Chicago accent, in fact, he sometimes sounded almost British, and because his voice coach was from London and he had repeated the sounds he heard her make. It took him two months to repair the damage to his wrists and four months building up enough strength in them that he could hold even something so simple as a pencil in his grip.
         There was still a lot that he didn't talk about, though he had told Beth most of it over time, he held back vital pieces of information even after all this time. Still, she wished he could open up to her more, perhaps if he told someone the night terrors would stop, and the impulsive need he sometimes had to know he wasn't alone or to have windows open so he could smell fresh air, regardless of the temperature outside.
         At first, while he was just starting to heal, Beth would wake to his screams and rush to his room. He couldn't see and he was still adjusting to the darkness, but when he woke and he could hear nothing but his own breathing and it terrified him. Beth suspected it was from being locked in that cell Victoria had placed him in, or passing out in the farmer's cellar and not being found for almost three days after. Whatever the reason she had taken to sleeping beside him and it seemed to calm him.
         She glanced down and noticed that he had drifted off, so she carefully settled him back on the pillow and gazed at him lovingly. She did love this man, she didn't know how it had happened or why, but it did. At first she had dismissed it, she was eight years older than him and she couldn't imagine them together as a couple, yet she had always felt something for him, from the moment he came to see her in prison she felt a distinct connection between them. Then he had gone through his own private hell, blaming himself for putting her in prison to begin with, but they had finally worked that out.
         When she had received the call from the couple who had found him, she knew she couldn't refuse to come. She was shocked at first not daring to hope that it was true and he was really alive, but when she got there she knew it was Kowalski. They told her they had tried the police department number he had managed to communicate to them and that the police didn't believe the call was real. Then Stan had croaked out Beth's number and she was grateful.
         She took him home, got him cleaned up and then went about having him checked out by a physician. The state he was in was appalling; it was a wonder he hadn't died from his injuries. As to whoever was buried in his grave, Beth didn't care, she had Stan back and that was all that mattered. The detective had given her his bracelet, the one he always wore as a token of his appreciation, just a week after she had brought him into her home. She returned it after his fifth surgery, trading it for a beautiful silver claddagh that he had requested his mother purchase for him to give her. It set on her left ring finger, where he had put it that evening they celebrated the full recovery of his speech.
         Beth glanced over him once more then made her decision and bent to kiss him before quietly leaving the room.
 

         "It can't be true!" Fraser cried, his skin had turned ashen as he gripped the wall behind him to steady himself. "Ray is alive?" Beth nodded solemnly, noticing the way Billy immediately rose and guided the trembling Mountie to the sofa. There was no other way to tell him but directly, but she now worried Fraser was going into shock.
         "I'm sorry for the deception, Benton." She offered kindly. "He's been through so very much and he just cut himself off from almost everyone he once knew." Fraser continued to shake his head dumbfounded and Billy cursed. He ran to the small kitchenette and found what he was looking for, then returned with the liquid in a small crystal tumbler.
         "Drink it." He ordered Fraser and the Mountie just continued to shake his head. "I said drink it Damn you or I'll pour it down your F**king throat!" Fraser swallowed the concoction then made a fierce face and started coughing.
         "W...what was that!" he croaked still coughing.
         "Cooking Sherry." Billy commented and was fully prepared for the startled look both people gave him. "What? We didn't have anything stronger okay!" Beth nodded compliantly, she remembered Billy telling her how Fraser had finally tried to deal with his guilt.
          He had started drinking heavily to dull the pain and make himself less in control, so he could get some of the anguish and bitterness that he was feeling purged from his soul. But once he had started it was difficult to regain that lost control and Fraser had almost lost his job over it. Billy had been there, understood what it meant to drown your sorrows in alcohol, and now it seemed they were both recovering alcoholics; helping each other through the worst year of their lives.
         "C...Can I see him?" Fraser finally asked. "Please, is he here? Can I see him I have to see Ray." Beth chewed her lip reluctantly.
         "I don't think he's ready for that, yet, Benton." She refused gently.
         "Why?" he demanded anxiously. "I'm his partner! He...he's my best friend and he doesn't want...he won't want to see me?"
         "He's gone through a lot this past year, Benton." She repeated. "I have tried to convince him to see you but he won't do it, I'm sorry." Fraser's eyes cast downwards forlornly.
         "Ray doesn't want to see me." He muttered as he rose and moved to the open doors of the terrace, staring out at the city below them. "He blames me, doesn't he?" Beth cast a helpless look at Billy, who was watching the Mountie carefully from his perch on the sofa, as he nervously lit a cigarette. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, she thought remorsefully.
         "Ray doesn't blame you, Benton." She lied. "He just...he's holding a lot of anger and bitterness inside and he just hasn't been able to let go of it yet."
         "It's my fault, you know." Fraser commented with a cold clarity. "Victoria was out to destroy me and she used him as a pawn to control my behavior. I should have just let her do what she wanted, and then Ray would never have been hurt. I should have..." Billy smashed his cigarette into the ashtray and bolted to his feet, moving toward the rigid Mountie.
         "Victoria was a f**king nut case, Ben!" he declared angrily, they'd had this fight many times before. "You could have done everything she asked and she still would have messed up your partner, she got off on it from what you told me." He dropped his hand on one hard, immobile shoulder. "It's not your fault and it's not Ray's fault, it's Victoria's." Beth watched Billy turn Fraser to face him, gripping his shoulder tightly as though concerned the Mountie might bolt at any second. "Just like Joe shooting himself wasn't my fault, Ray's getting hurt was not yours. You were trying to protect him."
         "But I didn't protect him." Fraser denied his face a stone mask as he avoided Billy's direct gaze. "He was my partner and I let him down." He shook his head as he felt his careful control start to slip. "I watched them do horrible things to him and I did nothing."
         "There was nothing you could do, buddy." Billy pointed out. "Don't go there, Ben." He could see the sorrow that threatened to drown his friend and he cradled Fraser's face in his hands tenderly. "Don't go back to thinking that way, pal. We've been down this road and we can't go back, nothing any of us do can change the past." Fraser's lower lip quivered only slightly, as the despair in his eyes grew darker. "Your partner is alive, Ray is still alive, that counts for something right? I'd give my left arm if Joe were still alive."
         "Maybe I should go." Beth suggested quietly and Billy afforded her a quick glance.
         "Thanks for telling us. He needed to know the truth." Beth nodded and moved toward the door as Billy continued to try and coerce Fraser out of his self-inflicted coma.
         "I am so sorry." She offered, unaware if either were even listening to her now.
At the door she turned back in time to see Fraser's arms go around the other man as Billy pulled him into a tender embrace and she heard his whisper.
         "That's it baby. Let it out. Let it all out Benny." Fraser's quiet sobs continued to echo in Beth's thoughts as she took the elevator down and hailed a cab outside the hotel.
 

         Beth felt Stan's grip on her hand tighten as the doctor began to pull off the bandages around his eyes, his other hand was shading his eyes as the doctor had suggested and he was trembling. The lights were brighter than normal in the room, but still comfortably dim that it wouldn't be glaringly obvious to anyone who entered.
         "Okay Stan," The doctor began as he removed the two small cotton like patches that covered the blonde's eyelids. "Now I want you to slowly open your eyes, carefully you don't want to expose them to very much light at first until they have adjusted."
          Stan found it difficult at first to get his eyes to lift from being closed for so long, but finally he managed to open them enough to squint at the older man sitting before him. Things were still a little blurry and his eyes water repeatedly, but he could see.
         "I can see!" he breathed opening his eyes further and turning his gaze to the woman standing next to him. "Oh Beth! Oh you're beautiful!" Beth sobbed gratefully and threw her arms around him.
         The Doctor smiled and rose from his chair. He gave them a few instructions about not letting his patient out in sunlight or anywhere bright for at least another day, until his retina's had time to cope with the sudden change, and then he left them alone. Stan pulled Beth onto his lap and hugged her fiercely.
         "Oh Stan." She cried pleased. "I'm so happy for you." Stan pulled back enough to stare into her face, memorizing her features and fitting them to his memory of her.
         "I can hardly believe it." He murmured pulling her to him again. "Everything is going to be okay isn't it?" She nodded and kissed him. Once again pulling back when Stan tried to deepen their contact. "What's wrong?"
         "Nothing." She assured softly as she started to move off his lap. "I just don't want you to get too excited, you'll make yourself sick." Stan grinned and rose from his chair, catching her hand in his.
         "Too late for that." He teased, pulling her toward him but she resisted. "Beth?"
         "Stan," she began hesitantly, pulling her hand from his. "You've been through a lot, let's not ruin your big day by..."
         "How are we ruining anything?" he demanded frustrated. "I just want to be with you, Beth. Don't you love me any more?" She was quick to give his cheek a reassuring caress.
         "Of course I do, never doubt that."
         "Then what is the problem?"
         "Stan, you're almost completely healed now." She stated quietly. "You...you can get your old life back and..."
         "I don't want it back!" he exclaimed angrily. "I never want to go back to being who I was, I can't. Too much has changed, too many things have happened."
         "Alright." She concurred, moving away again. "But you still have your whole life ahead of you. Nothing can stop you from doing whatever you want now." Stan moved toward her again.
         "I only want you, Beth." He insisted and growled when she shook her head.
         "You're confusing gratitude with love, Stan." She pressed. "We've spent so much time together the past year, gone through so much, you're just needing to adjust..."
        "This isn't about gratitude, Beth!" he defied. "Yeah I am grateful for all you've done for me, but that isn't all I feel." He grasped her left hand and stared down at the ring he had given her, he hadn't even seen it before now, and his mother had picked it out. "This is beautiful." He commented then met her gaze as his thumb caressed the heart held by two hands. "I didn't give you this because I was grateful. I gave you this because I love you."
         "You need to find a nice, pretty young thing to get involved with, Stan." She informed shaking her head. "Not an drab old widow like me." Ray put his hands on either side of her face.
         "You aren't old or drab." He denied. "You're beautiful to me, very beautiful inside and out."
         "I'm pushing fifty, Stan." She protested, but unable to move away from his tender touch.
         "I'm pushing forty, so what?" he reminded amused.
         "There's a big difference between forty and fifty, Stan."
         "There's nine years between us, so what? Who cares?" he tossed. "My Mum and dad have eleven separating them."
         "But your father is older than your mother, Stan." She commented.
         "So?" Stan rebuked. "What difference does it make who's older? The gap is still there."
        He grinned and gave her a feather light kiss that sent her heart hammering with anticipation, like a schoolgirl. He made her feel like a girl of twenty again, like the past few years with her husband had never happened and she was just a teenager with a crush.
         "I'm too set in my ways." She tried, feeling her defenses crumble.
         "I like your ways." He murmured nuzzling her neck.
         "I...I'm old enough to be your mother!" she was grasping at straws now.
         "Then I should be arrested for thinking of you like this, mother." He teased as he pulled her into his embrace.
         "I...I'm too old to try the marriage thing again!" God why did he have to make her feel so good?
         "Then we'll live together in sin." He decided as his lips moved to the sensitive skin of her ear lobe.
         "You're not listening to me, Damnit!" she declared trying to sound angry but only coming across frustrated. "I'm to old for you!"
         "Older women make better lovers." He reminded unaffected by her outburst and she blushed and fought the smile that threatened to break through. "Maybe you can teach me a few things I didn't know before." Oh, she'd teach him things, she thought evilly, she'd teach him to mind his elders.
         "Stan," she gasped finally managing to pull away from his affections. "This isn't the time, either way, we're in a hospital." Stan sighed in defeat and dropped back into the chair.
          She stared at him thoughtfully, he had let his hair grow longer and it caressed the back of his shoulders in thick honey-colored waves. The top was the same, going in every definable direction, but with the added length she couldn't help think how much more of a rebel he now looked. The long hair suited him, as did the thin, carefully kept moustache and beard, which was feather light around his lower chin and part of his mouth. He wore a simple diamond stud in his left ear that she had given him when he decided he wanted to be different and get his ear pierced. He no longer resembled much of Ray Kowalski, but he was still the same man. His steal gray eyes and wicked grin gave him away immediately to any who knew the former detective.
         "When do we go home?" he asked suddenly, pulling her attention away from him and she realized he had been watching her quiet observation of him. She had forgotten for a moment that he could see now, she had gotten used to watching him without his knowledge and knew she would have to be more discreet in the future.
         "In a few days." She replied, then sat in the chair facing him that the doctor had vacated. "Stan, I have to ask you this." She took a deep breath. "Won't you reconsider seeing Benton?"
         "No." he refused coldly. "Don't ask me again, Beth. I never want to see him, I mean it."
         "Stan I...I told him you were alive." She admitted, waiting for the outburst she was sure would come, but instead Stan just turned his gaze toward the window and shrugged.
         "So you did your good deed and now he won't feel so guilty, like you said." He commented in a far off voice. "There's no point in seeing him, no point at all."
         "Stan he is torn up that you won't see him." she informed urgently. "He is your friend, your best friend and he wants to see you."
         "Send him a picture then." Stan retorted as he rose and moved to look out of the window, glad it was nearing dusk so the sun was especially bright on his eyes.
         "You aren't being very fair, Stan." She stated quietly and he turned on her.
         "Don't talk to me about fair!" he screamed. "Was it fair that I got suckered into being that freak's partner? Was it fair that some physco bitch from his past decided to use me as some pawn in their game of house? Was it fair what she did to me, what she did to him?" Stan was breathing hard trying to control his temper and he forced himself to turn away from her and back to the window so she wouldn't be subjected to his uncaged fury.
         "Stan I..." she began with tears in her voice. She hadn't meant to up set him so much.
         "Please understand, Beth." He pleaded in a low voice filled with such anger and pain that the older woman had to cover her mouth to silence her sympathetic cry. "I loved Fraser more than...more than I ever loved anyone. I trusted him, I...I believed he'd always come through in the end, but...he didn't this time. He let her do those things to me and I...I cannot forgive him for it." He turned back and Beth was shocked to see the tears streaming down his face. "I want to, I want to say forget all that happened and let's be friends again, but I can't. I think of him and I remember her. I smell him everywhere here, the scent of pine trees and snow and I feel their hands on me. Everything in Chicago, all the people at the precinct remind me of Fraser. Here in Canada, I'm reminded of Fraser; everywhere I go see him and feel him and wish he were with me, but I can't deal with the other memories, the other feelings he resurrects for me."
         "I didn't know." Beth whispered as she approached him, but he turned his back to her, his shoulders hunched dejectedly.
         "Just go away." he requested hoarsely, noticing her horrified expression. "Not for good, sweetheart, never for good, just...just for a bit okay? Just let me...let alone for awhile." Beth wiped her tears away and moved to collect her purse and jacket.
         "I...I'll be back tomorrow then." She promised shakily, pausing at the door to look back at him. "I do love you, Stan."
         "I love you too." He returned as he leaned his head against the cool pane of the window and listened to the door shut quietly behind her.
 

         Billy Tallant stood outside the room that he had just watched Beth Botrell leave from and raised his head, pushing his black cowboy hat away from his solemn face and straightening from where he had been leaning inconspicuously against the far window at the end of the corridor. He knew he shouldn't have followed her here, knew better still that he was probably getting involved in something he shouldn't, but his protective instincts of Ben told his conscience to take a hike.
          He understood from what Beth had told them yesterday, that Ben's old partner had been through some very serious shit, but then so had Ben Fraser. Billy couldn't get the expression in his friend's eyes out of his mind.  The stark despair that seemed to swallow all other emotion in his deep cerulean gaze, after he learned his so call partner and friend was alive and didn't want to see him. It wasn't right for both men to be in such anguish for the other and Billy meant to set things straight.
         He took a deep encouraging breath and headed for Ray Kowalski's room, determined to say his piece. Although he had been informed that he looked like the other man, he was still unprepared when he stepped inside, for the starling almost mirror image of himself staring back at him. There were a few minor differences, Kowalski's hair was longer and he had a beard, but it was still the exact same face and for a long surreal moment both stood staring at the other in disbelief.
         "Who the hell are you?' Stan finally managed, conveying his shock. Billy called on all his hidden resources to ride the wave of surprise and tension, as he did many times in the past when dealing with Joe Dick or a difficult situation.
         "Name's Billy Tallant." He finally introduced, trying to sound nonchalant as he leaned back against the closed door and crossed his ankles. "And you're Ray Kowalski, right?" Stan's eyes narrowed.
         "I don't go by that name anymore." He growled and Billy shrugged.
         "Oh, so maybe Jackass is more you're style nowadays then?' he suggested wryly.
         "Get out of here!" Stan barked furious.
         "Did I hit a nerve?" Billy inquired straightening in respect for Kowalski's suddenly brawl room stance. "Too bad. We need to talk, or rather I need to talk and you need to listen." Stan curled his hands into fists then moved toward the buzzer, let the nurses deal with this bozo, but Billy got to it first and twisted it away from him.
         "You wanna piece of me, asshole?" Stan threatened. "Cause I don't care who you look like I'm good to go."
         "No thanks." Billy rebuked calmly. "I wouldn't want to hurt you." Stan's eyes narrowed.    "We have a friend in common, one Benton Fraser."
         "Get out!" Stan ordered, but again Billy ignored his outburst.
         "Why don't you want to see him?" he demanded.
         "None of your business, cowboy." Stan spat, trying to come to terms with the fact that Fraser had a close friend that could be his twin, it was disconcerting to say the least.
         "I'm not a cowboy, I'm Canadian." Billy amended. "I just like their hats."
         "Are you gonna leave or do I have to jump Bogart all over you?" Stan warned and for a moment Billy sensed this was about to lead to a fight. The idea that he would be battling it out with his alter ego struck Billy as funny and he chuckled, only to be knocked to the floor by Stan's fist as he clipped Billy's jaw.
         "Christ!" Billy swore rubbing his chin as he started to pick himself up off the floor. "What was that for?"
         "You were warned." Stan reminded glowing at him, obviously more than ready for another round.
         "Look, I just want you to agree to see Ben..." Billy explained, his earlier arrogance forgotten.
         "No."
         "He wants to see you."
         "I don't want to see him, now get out."
         "Why?' Billy demanded suddenly angry. "What kind of friend are you anyway? You let him think you were dead for almost a year then you turn up and refuse to see him. What kind of f**ked up friendship is that?"
         "I'm only gonna say this once." Stan cautioned. "So listen up. I am still dead when it comes to Fraser. He can know I'm alive if it eases his conscience, but he is not a part of my life anymore. I don't want any contact with him now or ever. If he can't deal with that then tough, you help him fill in the gaps, me I have other things to do."
         Billy glared at him, trying to imagine the man before him was the same one that Ben had talked so much about, but all he saw was a cold heartless bastard. There was no loyalty, no love, nothing but hate for Fraser and that both angered and saddened him. He bent and scooped up his hat, dusting it off before dropping it on his head.
         "You know, I thought it was really weird, but kinda funny that Ben always said I reminded him of you." He stated quietly. "I guess he needed to hold onto you more than he realized after he thought you had died, so I didn't mind being a stand in for your memory. We became great friends still, despite it, but I always knew part of it, part of the reason he let me close to him was because of you." Billy shook his head sadly. "I always wished I could have met you, you know to see how much alike we were, but now..." He paused for a long moment as he stared down at the hat in his hands. "Now I'm glad we only look the same, because I would hate to think I was anything like you, bitter, hateful and so wrapped up in your own pain you can't see anyone else's." He dropped the hat on his head. "Have a nice life, death or whatever Kowalski. I'll take good care of Fraser, he's my friend and I always take care of my friends." With that he turned and left.
 

         Beth pulled the letters from her mailbox and started back toward the older two-story house she shared with Stan.  She had sold her place in Chicago and they had moved to Maine, Stan had accepted a position with the police department there. It was a small town sheriff's office, so it wasn't the hectic pace of his former job at the 27TH and it gave them ample time to be together. Despite what he had said about not going back to his old life, being a cop was what he loved, what he was good at and so he decided to try it again. Stan had finally relented and let the majority of his past friends know of his resurrection and they dug up his grave and gave whoever the mystery man was, a proper burial.
         Stan's parents continued to travel, writing and calling him often. Ray Vecchio had returned to the Chicago Police department about six months after the episode with Victoria, and had reclaimed his old life. Stella had fallen for another lawyer and remarried. Stan still received telephone calls from Welsh, especially regarding old cases or when he was stuck on something particular and Francesca wrote to him often, after finally forgiving him for waiting so long to tell her he was alive and well. None of them ever mentioned Fraser, though he knew that the Mountie kept in contact with all of them. They didn't understand why Stan had cut off all communication between himself and the Canadian but they respected it.
         Beth was glad she had decided to give into Stan's request for a relationship, for she had never been happier in her life as she was now. They didn't get married, Beth simply couldn't go through with it after her last marriage, and since Stan's experience of wedded bliss was not much better he had agreed, but they were considered common law husband and wife because they had lived together for the past two years.
         Beth couldn't have children, either with her last husband or with Stan, but the many neighborhood children of the small inlet town adored the former detective turned deputy, and that was enough for him. He coached little league baseball and hockey, and Stan continued to joke that it didn't hurt to try and conceive their own child, practice made perfect after all. He was insatiable at times and made Beth feel more like a lusted after sex symbol then the dull old woman she had become used to being.
         She separated the bills, flyers and the personal correspondence, Thinking that she was glad that they didn't really have to rely on Stan's income to support them. He worked because he needed something to do, to feel useful, not for the meager salary they paid him. Beth had received twelve million dollars from her various suits against the people who wrongfully put her in prison and the state of Chicago. She never had to work again if she didn't want to, yet she preferred the simple life to the rich style she could have.
          She was glad to have the money, for it had paid for all of Stan's surgeries and medical bills when he had been injured. She had been able to afford the best in the field and she took advantage of that, wanting to put the money she had suffered eight years for to good use. At first the proud detective wanted to pay her back for all she had spent on his recovery, they argued and nit-picked until finally it was resolved.  She would tease him about being a kept man and saying he should mind his elders. He would retaliate by spending most of his own money on delightful and romantic gifts for her. Together they had made a life that suited them well.
         Beth placed the bills on the roll top desk that Ray had brought from his apartment when they moved, his parents had collected his things after his supposed death.  He only brought a few of his old things with him, his desk, his CD's and stereo of course, his collection of movies and surprisingly his Dream Catcher. She had been surprised when, after they first moved into the cape style home, she found him tacking it over their bed. He told her it kept bad dreams away, and she decided not to remind him who it was that had given him the decorative craft. Simply having it in their home gave her hope that one-day a certain Mountie might be forgiven.
         She found the monthly letter she received from Canada and fixed a cup of tea before adjourning to the porch and settling in the wooden swing before opening it. She enjoyed spending as much time as she could outside, when it wasn't too cold to do so, perhaps her time in prison had made her edgy about being cooped up inside. The crisp tangy sea air drifted around her and she could hear the gulls in the harbor as they fought over some piece leftover from one of the fishermen's hauls. They had a good view of the sea and most of the small town of Amity from their home on the hill; it was breath takingly beautiful for Beth.
         Dear Beth, the letter began in Fraser's immaculately perfect handwriting.
  How are you and Ray doing? Did the begonia's you planted last spring bloom yet? I apologize for the length between my last letter but we have been busy.
  Billy, Diefenbaker and I are doing well and they both say hello. We have moved into a house on the island of Newfoundland and I have accepted a position here with their RCMP department. The people here are refreshingly kind and open. Billy says he gets enough of city life during his tours with Jenifur and he thought it would be a good place to raise his daughter Billie. He received full custody of her just a few weeks ago and she adores him. She wanted to live with her Father; they have become very close in the past yer and a half. Her mother Mary's husband has enlisted in the navy and they will be going over seas for the next two years, so it was agreed that Billy would get custody of their daughter.
 Billy is in his element and spoils her terribly, but I can hardly blame him. She is an adorable child and very easy to fall in love with. We are teaching her to fish and she has already started to pick up some of the local language, much to Billy's chagrin. Just kidding, he things it is wonderful as do I.
 As always I still think often of Ray, I am indebted to you for your correspondence of his continued health and recovery. I can only hope that one day we might be friends again or he might accept me back into his life, but I must be patient I know. Hope that all is well for you both and please tell Ray he is in my thoughts and prayers.

Yours truly,
Benton Fraser

         Beth sighed and folded the letter, placing it back inside the envelope as she sipped her tea and rocked gently in the swing. It had been almost a year since they had left Canada and Stan still refused to speak about or contact Fraser. Beth observed him on numerous occasions staring out at the sea lost in thought and he always seemed so lonely and sad afterward. Although she never knew what he was thinking during those times, he suspected it had something to do with a certain dark haired, blue eyed Mountie. It was his idea to move to here, which completely threw Beth for loop, she never pictured the blond as anything but a big city dweller, but he commented that he had seen pictures of Maine and he liked the serenity it seemed to offer. It was ironic that Canada also surrounded their section of Maine on the East, West and north and she wondered if that had subconsciously played any part in his decision.
         Fraser said he and Billy had moved to Newfoundland and from what Beth could recall reading and hearing from the locals here, the island province was like Maine in many ways. Mostly fishermen and the like, surrounded by the Atlantic, small inlet towns and bay communities made up most of their population. It seemed ironic that the two former partners had decided to settle in very similar areas.  She knew that there was a hole in Stan's heart that she simply couldn't fill, as much as she loved him, it was a place reserved only for a person that Stan now refused to have contact with.
         "Hey beautiful!" a familiar voice called from below and she straightened to look down at their sloping gravel drive.
          Stan was waving at her from the white four-wheel drive suburban that had Aroostook County Sheriff's Department etched in gold and black lettering on the side. She smiled and took in the sight of him in his dark brown and tan deputy's uniform. His tan Stetson, just a shade or two darker than a certain Mounties's identical hat, was held in his hands currently but spent most of it's time on the front seat of the vehicle. His dark sunglasses, which were non-prescription because after his surgery, the past problem with his vision had been corrected, gave him a distinctive, doesn't mess with me appearance.
         "Hey!" she waved back as he pulled out the rest of his gear and headed up the steps toward her. "Who's that good lookin' youngster comin' my way?" He grinned, dropped his things on the swing and took her in his arms.
         "Someone who thinks you're one fine looking lady, Ma'am." He returned with an exaggerated New England accent. "How about a quick nap for a hard working deputy?"
         "Well, okay," she smiled, knowing his idea of a nap had nothing to do sleeping. "But we'll have to be quick, before my live in lover returns, he's insanely jealous you know."
         "Yeah?" Stan continued their game. "Guess I'll just have to shoot his ass if he comes before I do."
        Beth gasped at his audacity and started laughing as he swung her over his shoulder with one arm and retrieved his gun belt with the other. The fresh air did Stan a world of good and though he would always be slim in stature, he had improved his strength and stamina greatly in just one year.
         He gave the screen door a gentle kick and they headed inside, where he climbed the stairs and deposited her laughing on their large waterbed. He tossed his hat and shades on his bureau, their usual spot and fell next to her determined. She giggled and allowed him to pull her close and kiss her.
         "Darling...Honey...Stan!" she laughed and finally received his undivided attention.
         "I'm workin' here!' he complained with a smile and she swatted him.
         "I need to talk to you."
         "Later." He decided trying to kiss her again and once more she gently pushed him away.
         "Now please, it's important." Ray sighed and flopped over on his back, the floating of the mattress beneath him moving him still a few seconds after he had actually gone still.
         "It better be." He growled as she leaned to cuddle her head against his chest.
         "Remember you said I could decide where to go for our anniversary?" she reminded and he nodded. They will have been together two years next week, though Beth hadn't really thought of them as a couple until after their trip to Canada, Stan included the time she spent helping him heal. She had never left his side, despite the fact they had never slept together until after he had gotten his sight back and Stan considered it their first year together.
         "Yes, love." He sighed. "Anywhere you want except Chicago." She grinned and snuggled closer, hoping he couldn't hear her pounding heart. She prayed she was doing the right thing, she was taking an incredible risk that she might loose the man next to her if things blew up in her face.
         "Do you remember the place Sadie is always talking about?" she asked and watched him think for a moment before nodding.
         "That Island...New Zealand or New find land or something?" he guessed.
         "Newfoundland." She amended as she raised up to stare down into his handsome face.
         He had cut his hair because of his position and shaved the moustache and beard, simply because he found it irritating to his skin, so he was back to looking like her Kowalski. He had a small scar on his right cheek, the remnants of the last of his plastic surgeries. He could have had that removed as well over time, but he decided to leave it, perhaps as a reminder. It wasn't hideous or hard to look at; it simply gave his already charismatic face a little more character.
         "So what about it?' Stan pressed as he turned on his side to face he, his hand caressing the curve of her hip lovingly.
         "Well, you enjoy fishing, and it's supposed to be one of the best places for catching cod and salmon." She explained. "And Sadi said that the whales come around every summer and I would so love to see that."
         "We got whales here, last summer." He reminded.
         "Yes but not many and you had to go way out to see them." She insisted. "In Newfoundland they come right into some of the bays, right along side the icebergs." She mimicked his caress sliding her hand over his hip and upper thigh. "Please? I hear it is absolutely beautiful and the people there are charming."
         "You heard all that, hmmm?" he repeated suspiciously and she smiled.
         "Please? You did say I could choose."
         "Isn't that in Canada?' he reasoned and she nodded, deciding not to point out with their current location they could drive a few miles and be in Canada regardless.
         "But it's an Island Stan." She reminded. "Just the local culture and a few tourists."
         "You really wanna go there?" he asked and she knew she had him, he rarely refused her anything she really wanted.
         "Yes I do. I think it would be good for us both."
         "Okay." He agreed reluctantly. "I already told Colby I'd be taking off from the department for two weeks, I guess we can go Friday." She squealed and gave him a ferocious hug. "How are we going to get there, its way out in the middle of the Atlantic isn't it?" She nodded.
         "I'll call and check on that, but I think we can probably drive as far as Nova Scotia, the border cross is in Amherst and we can get a ferry across to Newfoundland from there." Stan stared at her intently.
         "Got it all worked out, Hmm?" he teased and she shrugged. Actually she had only decided on the trip after reading Fraser's letter but Sadi, the owner of the town diner, spoke of going to the island often on her fishing trips and Beth remembered that was the route the old woman usually took.
         "Of course." she commented easily. "I knew you'd give in, you always do." Stan grinned and pulled her into his arms.
         "Know me so well do you?' he remarked as he lowered his mouth to kiss her and she forgot all of what they had been talking about.

         Later that evening, Beth found her lover once more perched on the railing of their front porch; one foot propped high on the wood as he leaned against the front of the house. His arms were folded across his chest, and he again had that sad far away look in his eyes as he stared out across the sea. She quietly walked over and handed him a glass of iced tea, which he thanked her for, but didn't move to take a drink from it, just held the glass absently in his hand.
         "What are you thinking about?" Beth inquired softly, settling in the swing close to the railing. He shrugged. "Tell me, please? You always look so far away. Where do you go?"
         "The past." Stan sighed after a long pause. "I guess I can't help thinking of some things, even when I know they hurt." Beth nodded in understanding.
         "You're remembering your times with Benton, aren't you?" she guessed and he nodded.
         "Yeah." He admitted reluctantly, though his eyes never left the sea. "Every time I look out there I think of us on the Henry Allen."
         "Tell me about it?" she requested eager to hear any of his past adventures, since it was so rare that he spoke regarding his past with Fraser. She saw a ghost of a smile on his lips as he lowered his eyes for just a moment and glanced at her, then he turned back away.
         "We...we were going through some hard times, getting on each other's nerves I guess. Talked about dissolving our friendship and accepting transfers." He shook his head. "Then we had this pirate drop dead on my car." Beth's eyebrow's rose.
         "Pirate?" she repeated surprised and Stan did smile then.
         "Yeah, had an eye patch and a hook for a hand, talked about treasure maps before he finally croaked, so I assumed he was a pirate." Another smile. "He definitely wasn't an accountant."
         "I don't suppose." Beth agreed grinning. "So what happened?"
         "We agreed to take one last case together." Stan shrugged. "Should have left well enough alone really, we were way over our heads, but Fr...the Mountie started talking about the Robert Mackenzie. Whoever was using her name to pretend they were a ghost ship to ward of sailors had to be stopped, if for no other reason then respect for the sailors that did die on the Mackenzie." Ray took a sip of his tea. "Man, when he told a story sometimes he could just drag you into it, you were helpless against the feelings it stirred inside you. Anyway, I agreed to go with it, we drove to Sioux St. Marie and got on a boat there. Things didn't work out too well and the pirates, goons, whatever you want to call them were on to us."
         He paused and again got that far off look that always worried Beth, but she remained patiently silent and waited for him to finish.
         "I almost drowned." He murmured quietly. "I couldn't swim, and I was cuffed to some pipe in a room and the ship was sinking because we got attacked by the supposed ghost ship. Fraser came back for me and we got out."
         "He saved you then?" she supplied and his expression darkened.
         "Yes, but I would never have been there in the first place if not for him." He rebuked with a touch of anger in his voice, but then his features softened. "He gave me some of his air to keep me from drowning. Called it Buddy Breathing, scared the hell out of me, just seemed like he was kissing me at first, you know how weird my mind works some times, but I was grateful." He shook his head as if trying to banish the memory. "So, the Mountie saved the day as always and we didn't take the transfers."
         "You stayed partners?" Beth reminded and he nodded.
         "Yeah, for what good it did us."
         "Can you honestly say it was a mistake for the two of you to stay together?" she inquired gently. For a long moment Stan didn't answer.
         "I don't know." He admitted. "A lot has changed." Beth took a sip of her drink before asking.
         "If Victoria had never entered your lives, do you think you would still be partners?" Again silence, then Stan swung down off the rail and headed inside.
         "I'm hungry what's for dinner?" he asked and Beth knew to let the subject drop.
 
 

         Beth paused to glance in the window displaying Newfoundland crafts and heritage books, smiling at the large stuffed Puffin in the window and the outline of a Moose that held tourism books. She and Stan had stopped in here there second day on the island and she had purchased one of the tour guides and a few of the unique hand crafted ornaments.
         They had been to Cape Spear, an enchanting cove where a tall 160-year-old lighthouse stood proudly to warn visiting sailors of eminent danger. The wind blew so fiercely and consistently there it seemed, that it threatened to pick you up off the rocky cliffs and carry you easily over the ocean waves. Swarming white gulls that frequented the area called a greeting to you in their native language as they rode they rode the waves of the strong wind.
         The scenic view of lush green forests and sparkling blue salt water waves crashing against the base of a looming rock cliff that seemed to spiral almost out of sight into the clear blue sky had taken Beth's breath away. Miles of coastal rock beaches adorned with modest inlet homes, sloping grasslands and a spreading fire of wildflowers, the likes and colors, as Beth had never seen. Huge open bays of endless ocean, accented by a multitude of smaller islands further out and the occasional outboard or sailing vessel. Fields of red, black and blueberry patches some berries as large as her thumb and deliciously sweet to taste.
         The various eateries they had visited had so many new and exotic sounding dinners that she and Stan had made it a goal to try some of everything before they returned home. Salt meat & cabbage, or Jigs Dinner as the locals called it was fast becoming Stan's favorite, with it's feast of turnip, potato, carrot's, cabbage, pea's pudding and chunks of meat so salty you couldn't help but pucker in delight. Beth had enjoyed the fish 'n' Bruise she had tried at a small seafood café in Trinity Bay.
         It seemed that they had driven all over the Island during their week here, yet the locals informed her they hadn't even touched the surface of what Newfoundland had to offer. Stan loved the dialect of the people here, which was a mix of an Irish and English brogue and something else entirely. Newfoundlanders spoke fast and furiously with an arrangement of words Beth couldn't comprehend, or consider repeating. Sometimes it seemed like they spoke in one long sentence, with no breaks from one word to the next, but Stan thought it was wonderful to listen to. He would sit and listen to them for hours if she let him, and never understand half or what was being said, he'd even started to pick up a few of their words finding ways to use them in his everyday speech. 'How's it goin' B'ye? Whure yuh at meh son? Yes buddy, luh. Yur some stunned you are, b'ye.'
         She shook her head with a smile and continued on down the street, lined with little shops and only a few reasonably tall buildings. The smell of the fishing trolleys and the salt air rose from the large harbor just a few feet down. She smiled, it seemed everything in Newfoundland was either up or down from something, some of their streets looked as though they rose and fell in a dangerously sloping angle, but then what do you expect when you build on a giant rock, as the locals loved to point out.
         She glanced at her watch and realized she was late meeting Stan, who had gone off to buy something he had been looking at earlier, while she continued window-shopping. They had promised to meet at Atlantic Place, an interior food court that gave a great view of the harbor. She hustled politely past the many people on the sidewalks of Water Street then darted carefully across to the other side and hurried into the building.
         She glanced around for her lover and finally saw him standing by one of the tables that had a view of the harbor. He was staring out the window, his expression grim and the small pulse in his jaw twitched in anger. She approached him with a smile, wondering what was wrong.
         "Stan I..." she began and was unprepared when he turned on her in fury.
         "You knew didn't you?" he demanded enraged and she backed up a step startled.
         "Knew what, honey?" she asked confused, then she saw the startling black hair and familiar pose of a man outside the window, where Stan had just turned from. She put her hand to her mouth concerned. She had hoped that the two would run into each other while they were here, she couldn't deny that, but she had been taken aback by the suddenness of it happening.
 "I...I...yes." She finally admitted biting her lip. "Benton wrote and told me he and Billy had moved here and I thought now would be a good time to..."
         "To what!" Ray exclaimed. "To betray me? How could you do this to me, Beth? You knew I wasn't ready to..."
         "And you will never be ready if you don't face up to him, Stan." She defied bravely. "You miss him, I know you do, there's a hole in your life that no one else can fill but him and..." Stan moved away from the window and stalked away, but she hurried after him.
         "I will never forgive you for this, Beth." He vowed as he threw open the doors and stepped out into the sidewalk.
        Their hotel was within walking distance so that was the direction he took, uncaring if she followed him or not. She caught up to him before he crossed the street and grabbed his arm, turning him to face her.
         "I forgave you." She reminded coldly and watched him pale. She didn't want to use their past problems against him, but it was turning out to be her only option.
         "It isn't the same..." he denied and she shook her head defiantly.
         "I forgave you when you wouldn't even forgive yourself, Stan." She stated. "I could have blamed you for everything that happened to me, I could have spent my life hating you and wishing you dead, you certainly gave me ample cause and opportunity." She watched him flinch but didn't let it sway her.  "But I forgave you, Stan. Even though every time I looked at you I was reminded of that night, every time I heard your voice I saw myself in prison again and every damn time you touched me I was reminded of the mistake you made." Stan's eyes were filling with tears but she pressed forward.
         "I...Beth I'm s...sorry..." he whispered but she refused to hear him.
         "The point is I forced myself to see you, to listen to you and encourage your touch because I knew it was also the only way I would ever forgive you, my darling." She explained softly as she lifted her hand up to wipe away the single tear that escaped his sorrow filled eyes. "Without that we would never gone forward, never found the wonderful love that binds us now."
         "I do love you, Beth I..." he sobbed as she cradled his face between her hands.
         "You can't move on, really move on until you settle things with Benton." She stated gently. "He's your best friend Stan and he has gone through his own private hell during all of this, just like you. It's time to work things out my love, time to forgive him as I forgave you."
         "I...I can't!" he refused in a tortured voice. "God I just can't, Beth, please understand." She shook her head and moved away from him, he felt her detachment like an icy knife through his heart.
         "I don't know what else I can do to convince you that this is what you need, what Benton needs to heal yourselves completely." She averted her eyes dejectedly and shook her head once more. "This is the only thing you've ever refused me, Stan and I really don't think I can accept it anymore." She glanced at the light then crossed on the green, without even a glance backward at the man trembling with grief behind her.
 

         Fraser tossed the Frisbee wide and Diefenbaker charged after it, narrowly avoiding the rolling tide of the beach below them. A few of the local children tried to reach it before the wolf did then laughed in delight when he ran straight into the surf, nabbed the disk in his teeth then returned to shake cold water all over them, before running back to the his partner for another throw.
         "How's it goin' Fraser!" The oldest of the group called with an enthusiastic wave of her hand. She had just turned fourteen, with long chestnut hair and already a model's figure, and she had a major crush on the Mountie. She often visited him and Billy with her younger friends.
         "Good afternoon, Mary!" Fraser returned with a wave and a smile as Diefenbaker dropped the Frisbee next to him and shook again, this time spraying Fraser, who glared at him.
         "Are ya coming to the bonfire tonight, or what?" she asked as Fraser tossed the disc a second time and watched the excited wolf run after it.
         "I wouldn't miss it!" he assured as he glanced over at the sound of footsteps in their gravel drive and offered Billy a welcoming smile. "You're home!"
         "No shit Sherlock." Billy retorted grinning as he doused his cigarette and waved at the kids below them. "Hey guys! You ready to roast some dogs and scare a few firemen tonight or what?" They cheered and his grin widened.
         "Bring your guitar, Billy!" Mary demanded.
         "I will if Ben will." He promised and received a scolding glare from the Mountie, Fraser didn't think himself near as good as Billy and so preferred not to play out in public much.
         "Will you Fraser?" Mary called expectantly. He turned back to her and nodded, he couldn't disappoint her.
         "Certainly." He agreed as Diefenbaker returned with his toy, then promptly dropped it upon seeing Billy and charged ahead.
         "Stop!" Billy warned putting his hand forward and surprisingly the wolf obeyed and sat still a few feet from him. Billy didn't like the wolf jumping on him, especially when he was a very wet wolf. "Good boy, now take off, I'll pet you when you're dry." Diefenbaker whined only a little before running for a field of tall grass and romping through it merrily, perhaps hoping it would dry his fur quicker so he could get the promised affection.
         "He never listens to me like that." Fraser gripped as they climbed the steps of the large wooden patio and headed inside their house. "I don't know how you do it." Billy shrugged off his slight jacket and dropped onto the deep, comfortable sofa.
         "He knows I'll skin him if he ruins another of my jackets or slacks, that's why." He explained as Fraser retrieved a cold glass of iced tea for him. "Make a pair of wolf mittens out of him or something." Fraser smiled and settled next to the singer.
         "You would never do such a thing." He rebuked easily. "I know it and so does Diefenbaker. I think he listens to you better because you don't put him on diets or take him to the vet for his check ups."
         "He doesn't need to be on a diet anymore." Billy surmised as he leaned his head back for a moment and closed his eyes. "He gets plenty of exercise now and as for the vet thing," He shuddered. "Just the idea of getting fixed gives a man cause to stay away from those kinda clinics." Fraser laughed. "My baby call yet?" Fraser nodded.
         "Billie is having a, and I quote, a totally awesome time at Rebecca's and wishes to stay over night." He informed dryly.
         "Do they still say awesome?" Billy asked surprised and Fraser chuckled.
         "They still do here apparently." He commented. "I told her you would call and let her know."
         "Yeah, okay, here now in a minute, I will." Billy sighed and Fraser grinned.
         "That sounds an awful lot like something a Newfoundlander would say, Billy." He teased and Billy opened his eyes only long enough to reply
         "Bite me, Mountie Man." Billy retorted and Fraser laughed.
         "That's not buddies." He reminded and Billy chuckled then went to call his daughter.
 

         Stan slumped on the park bench and stared at the ducks floundering around in the small pond nearby. He was startled when a cagey looking gentleman settled beside him, wearing loose blue denims, a gray flannel shirt and a salt and pepper cap.
         "How's ya getting' on b'ye?" he greeted and Stan shrugged, he was getting used to the friendliness of the people around him, they stopped and talked to you for an hour, even if they had never met you before. "Well, reason I'm askin' is 'cause ya git a face on ya ta'd stop a clock." Stan's lips twitched.
         "Having a bad day." He sighed, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands.
         "Nerves rubbed raw are dey?" the old man asked.
         "Something like that." Stan admitted quietly.
         "Women troubles?" the man surmised and Stan shook his head.
         "No, not really."
         "Tank Christ!" the newfie exclaimed. "I'm no good wid dem lot b'ye." Stan smiled briefly. "So, give over, what's yer beef me son?" Ray glanced at him and after a moment found himself telling the old man everything.
        All about Fraser and being a cop in Chicago. The partner ship they shared, the adventures they had together, and then the abduction involving Victoria the mad woman, and his dear Beth's recent disappointment in him. By the time Stan finished the sun was starting to set and he could hardly believe two hours had gone by, when all he did was talk to this perfect stranger, who was amazingly still awake and listening intently.
         "And that's about it." He finished with a sigh. "She wants me to see Fraser, but I can't do it and I'm afraid I'm going to loose her." The Newfoundlander was quiet for a long time, before he finally spoke.
         "Forgivin' people's easy as fallin' off a log, me cocky." He insisted. "Ya walk up, say whady'a at me son, shake his hand and sid 'own ta a good feed." Stan shook his head.
         "It isn't that easy." He denied gravely. "I wish it was."
         "Know what you needs?" the man asked. "You needs to take yer honey to a good old fashioned wood burnin is what you needs."
         "A what?" Stan asked confused as the man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and started drawing directions on it for him.
         "Here's where yur goin and my number if ya gets turned around ass backwards." He insisted shoving the paper into Stan's hand as someone called from across the way.
         "I don't think..." Stan began as the man stood and yelled back at his friend.
         "Stay where yur at 'bye and I'll come where yur to!" He promised then winked at Stan. "See ya 'round me cocky." With that he was off to meet with the other Newfoundlander.
 

         Stan found the beach in Conception Bay that the older man had given him directions to and he and Beth were met eagerly by the Newfoundlander he had spoken with earlier.
         "Dere ya be's!" he exclaimed delighted as he rushed up to give Beth a friendly hug and Stan a slap on the back. "Found us did'ja?"
         "We didn't know what to bring..." Beth started, suddenly glad Stan had talked her into coming. There was a new tension between them that she hoped they'd be able to work through. She looked toward the huge roaring bonfire just a few feet down the rock beach with quite a few locals and children around it.
         "What odds!" the man, who was finally introduced as Simon excused easily as he led them toward the circle. "Come meet da missus." A small, portly woman stood from where she had been seated in her lawn chair and turned to greet them, her mouth flying open as she stared at them.
         "Holy Mary Mother of God!" she exclaimed and was promptly hushed by her husband.
         "Shut yer gob." He insisted despite her stricken face. "Dis here's Stan and his Missus Beth. The one catchin' de fly's is me wife Roberta, Bertie to dem what' likes her."
         "Hello." Beth greeted and shook the woman's hand, wondering why she was staring so intently at Stan. She glanced around and noticed all had gone quiet and that everyone was staring at her lover. She frowned, but before she could comment, Simon was flinging an arm about Stan's shoulders.
         "Now my sonny, b'ye." He encouraged pointing to the cove house a way's above them. "What I needs you to do me cocky is go on up dere to dat house, luh, an' tell dem straggler's ta get der'e arse's out here so we can start da festivities." Stan looked hesitant. "Don't worry I told em I'd be sendin' up someone, dey're a good lot dey are."
         Stan glanced at Beth who shrugged and then he turned and headed up the slope. He breathed deep the intoxicating smells of sea and pine trees as he climbed the patio to what he assumed was the back door and knocked briefly on the screen.
         "Ray!" Fraser gasped as he appeared at the door and Stan stumbled backwards in shock. No! This wasn't happening. He wasn't ready for this!
        He turned and fled back down the steps, cursing Simon, Beth and anyone else he could blame for doing this to him, but he had forgotten the Mounties's quick reflexes and Fraser bounded out the door and jumped over the patio rail to land in front of his old partner.
         "Move!" he screamed at the Canadian.
         "Ray, please!" Fraser pleaded; drinking in the site of his friend as his steps matched Stan's who tried to move around him. "I...I don't know why you're here but I'm glad. Can't we..."
         "No!" Stan refused and again tried to maneuver around the Canadian. "I swear to God if you don't move outta my way, Fraser I'm gonna..."
         "What?" Fraser defied; he couldn't let Ray get away, not when he was so close to him after all this time. "Kick me in the head?" Stan shook his head in frustration, his hands balled tightly into fists at his side. "Talk to me! For the love of God, Ray, don't throw our friendship away!" Stan remained silent, his jaw clenched and his eyes evasive and Fraser sensed he would never get another opportunity to tell him tell he had to say. "I...when I thought you were dead I... I spent day and night at your grave, trying...trying to make sense of what happened. Then...then I learned after all this time you were alive and you wouldn't even see me. Why, Ray? Why won't you...."
         "Shut up!" Stan cried furiously. " My name is Stan and I don't care what you thought, I don't care what you did! I want you to stay the hell away from me!" Again he tried to move past but Fraser intercepted and was only mildly surprised when Stan punched him.
         Billy had come out on to the porch to see what the commotion was about, as Beth and Simon hurried up from the beach. He saw Fraser go down and vaulted over the patio to go to his friend's aid, only to be stopped by Simon.
         "They need to do this, son." He stated grimly as Fraser rose to his feet and stood stubbornly in front of Stan once more.
         "You don't mean that, Ra...Stan." Fraser corrected quickly. "I understand you are upset but we're partners, best friends, you can't really mean you want to throw that all away."
         "Partners?" Stan declared fiercely. "Friends? We're not partners Fraser. We're not friends. Partners don't let you down. Friends don't let someone do what that bitch did to me. I will never forgive you for that, NEVER!" Fraser blinked back his tears and pressed forward.
         "I can't erase what Victoria did, Stan." He stated solemnly. "We both have to live with the memory of what she did to us."
         "To us, Fraser?' Stan declared in disbelief. "She didn't do jack shit to you! She used me as some freaking pawn in game of house that the two of you played."
         "Stan that isn't true..."
         "Bullshit Fraser! I was there remembering? I saw you!" Stan was beyond fury now. "I saw the two of you having your little tete a tete's and your screw fests while they were beatin' the shit out of me for the hell of it."
        Fraser paled, he had not realized that Ray would be able to see through his side of the window that  had separated their cells as he had when Victoria was gracious enough to allow it. The idea that the detective had been forced to watch Victoria's sick games with Fraser appalled and nauseated the Mountie.
         "Stan, it wasn't like that..." he began but Stan finally got around him and took off down the beach, Fraser ran after him.
        He had to make Ray understand, he had to set things right while he had the chance. He tackled the former detective and they both hit the icy surf in a tumble, gasping as they were soaked instantly.
         Beth gasped as she watched the pair struggle and she was truly scared Stan was going to try and kill the Canadian. Fraser continued to defend himself against Stan's blows, but did not return the beating, he just couldn't bring himself to strike his former partner. Billy had to be restrained from going to Fraser's aid once more and the singer was scared that if Fraser didn't soon start to retaliate Stan would do vital damage to the Mountie.
         "I hate you!" Stan cursed him as he managed to get a chokehold on Fraser, who was trying to separate the man's fingers from his throat. "I wish you were dead! I wish we were both dead because then I wouldnt hurt anymore!"
         "Then kill me, Ray." Fraser croaked suddenly going limp and wincing at the pressure on his throat. "If it will make you whole again to see me dead then do it."
         For the briefest second Fraser thought the blond would carry out his intention, but just as he felt himself starting to loose consciousness the pressure on his throat eased and Stan moved off him, dropping defeated on the rocks beside him and holding his head in his hands. Fraser coughed and tried to acquire the use of his voice again, as he slowly sat up then jumped startled at the anguished cry that tore from Kowalski's throat.
         Fraser was unprepared for Kowalski's sudden dash and it took him a moment to roll to his feet and go after him. God help him he prayed this wasn't going to send the already emotionally unstable American over the edge.
         Stan was charging further up one of the narrow cliff slopes, trying to get away from the Canadian, yet ashamed that he couldn't stand and face him, even now. His foot slipped on some loose gravel and he was suddenly pitched over the side and into the crashing waves below. Fraser's cry matched Beth's, who also saw the detective fall from her view point, and without even a forethought of his own safety Fraser dove after his friend.
         Beth, Billy and the others had rushed further down the beach, relieved when they finally saw Fraser's head emerge and his arms around an unconscious Kowalski. Closer to shore, Fraser gathered the man in his arms then settled him on the beach as Billy ran back to their house for some blankets.
         "Is he okay?" Beth demanded kneeling beside her lover as Fraser checked for a pulse. She started sobbing when Fraser began CPR. "Oh God don't let him die!"
         "He won't." Fraser promised determined, as he continued to breathe into Stan's mouth, but he couldn't help be afraid. It had taken Fraser longer than it should have to locate the American once he hit the water, the tide had seemed to be carrying them both further out to sea and Fraser had to work hard to fight against it and continue searching Don't you die, Ray. Not now, for God's sake not after all this. I can't bear to loose you again, please breathe.
         Billy returned with an armload of blankets, two of which he immediately wrapped around Kowalski as he helped Fraser continue the life saving technique by working Stan's chest so Fraser could concentrate on the breathing part. Live you sonofabitch, he prayed silently. Ben can't go through your death a second time.
         Stan suddenly started coughing and Fraser rolled him onto his side to disperse the water he was throwing up, as everyone sighed in relief.
         "Stan." Fraser began in a harsh whisper, tears either from lack of oxygen or the emotional distress he was feeling streamed down his cheeks. "Oh thank God!"
         "Leave me alone." Stan sobbed turning his face away from the Mountie as Billy moved to allow Beth to kneel beside her lover. "Just go away, stop haunting me." Fraser wasn't sure what Stan meant by haunting him, but he still wasn't prepared to give up on his friend, not yet. The others, with the exception of Beth and Billy moved away to give them privacy.
         "Stan, those things that you saw me doing with Victoria," he explained quietly. "I did them to keep her from hurting you. I had no choice, if I didn't play her games and do what she wanted she'd hurt you further." He reached out to touch Stan's shoulder and bit his lip when the other man flinched away from him. "I...I saw them r..rape you." He barely registered Beth's gasp, and realized she hadn't known about that part, but he continued. "I..I tried to stop it but I couldn't. I knew after that I had to do whatever she asked or you would suffer." He took a deep breath and massaged his bruised throat. "But she was mad and she did those things to you regardless without my knowledge. When...when we thought you had been killed I...I couldn't deal with it. I...I blamed myself, like you said I let you down. I...I deliberately provoked Victoria on that cliff, knowing she would be probably be killed the moment she tried to shoot at me."
         "I don't care." Stan sobbed slowly sitting up and hanging his head low refusing to meet Fraser's gaze as Beth tried to keep the blanket around his shivering body.
         "Yes you do care, Stan." Fraser protested. "Or you wouldn't be this angry." Silence. "Stan, I..I love you and I am so glad that you are alive and getting your life back together. I would like to be a part of that life, but if you honestly feel my presence is too painful I will leave and never bother you again." Fraser waited tensely for his response, not daring to hope for forgiveness, but afraid of being rejected again. After what seemed like forever Fraser started to rise, believing that he had received his answer.
         "He just save your life!" Billy reminded angrily as he draped a blanket around Fraser's own shivering shoulders.
         "He should have let me die." Stan insisted moving into Beth's embrace and refusing to look at the other two men. Billy swore and took a step toward him, only to be restrained by Fraser.
         "I couldn't do that Stan." He stated quietly. "But I do understand the feeling of wanting to die, I have thought much of it myself the past two years." Stan couldn't hide his shock as he glanced back at the always proud and unaffected Mountie..
         "It's hard, Fraser." He murmured painfully. "I...I don't know if...I can't forget..."
         "I know, Stan." He offered gently, and he did know, for he was fighting similar misgivings.
        He too felt betrayed that the detective had let him believe for a hellish year that he was dead, then spurned him indifferently. Fraser's own guilt had almost consumed him and Ray's dismissal of their long friendship had fed that guilt for many long months, until Fraser finally started to get over it. "I'm not asking you to forget, Stan, just accept it and move forward."
         They stood there in silence a few moments, with only Stan's occasionally coughing from his near drowning and the sound of the sea around them. Fraser wouldn't allow himself to hope for Ray's forgiveness, but his fear at a possible final rejection scared him witless. He understood his partner's pain, had shared it to a grim degree, but he was selfishly dependent on getting the detective back as his friend.
         Living with Billy over the past two years had been both helpful and welcomed, the singer never let Fraser get too far into himself that he forgot to talk about things that bothered him. The Mountie had never confided so much to anyone, not even Ray, but then they both seemed to have changed in the last couple of years.
         "Stan?' Fraser asked unable to stand anymore of the awful silence stretching between them. Stan suddenly rolled to his feet, shrugging off the blanket and taking Beth's hand..
         "Gotta think." He murmured and Fraser finally let him go as they started to walk further down the beach. There was nothing more he could do now but wait as he watched the blonde's departing back sadly.
         "Com'on Buddy, let's get you dried off." Billy insisted tuning the Mountie back toward their home. Fraser nodded and went quietly with him.
 

         Many hours later, Fraser sat on the beach, staring out at the beautiful calming sea waves, lost in thought. Everyone had pretty much decided to depart after his scene with Stan and soon after Fraser had changed into dry clothes and had a few cups of hot tea, compliments of Billy, he had come out here to think. Beth and Ray, or Stan as he now went by never returned to the bonfire and Fraser had given up looking over his shoulder for him, finally saying good night to everyone and heading back to the house. Billy had stayed behind to share a smoke with Simon and perhaps to give Fraser a little time alone.
          The vast ocean seemed too have the same calming affect on him as the desolate snows of the territories once had, he could relate to it and contemplate things more fully. He often spent many hours out here, especially right after dinner to watch the sunset or just before sunrise, as he was now, the wonder of their beauty leaving his troubles feeling small and unimportant in view of Nature's magnificence.
         The ocean reminded him of Kowalski, the sometimes turbulent tides mindful of his partner's volatile personality, swaying and charging in any given direction, never knowing the way it would settle. Like Stan the sea seemed incomparable in it's complexity with an insurmountable heart, giving unconditionally and never asking for a reward. He tilted his face toward the warming rays of the sun as it rose over the horizon, casting the sky into a collage of pinks, lavenders and the palest orange that was mirrored in the water below.
         "You'll get piles you sit there any longer." A familiar voice teased beside him and he glanced up at Billy, who was extending a large silver-ringed hand. Fraser cast a final grateful glance at the rising sun, then accepted the singer's hand. "Let him go, Ben."
         "I wish I could, Billy." The Mountie sighed as they headed back toward the house Billy no doubt had breakfast waiting, they were both early risers.
         They ate quietly a small feed of omelets and fried ham, though Fraser's appetite was almost non-existent, then Billy mentioned he had to go see Simon about something and left the house. Fraser hadn't slept and he knew his hair and body still smelled of sea water, so he shed his clothes and stepped into the shower He let the hot spray wash over him, trying to wash away all his troubles, but of course it couldn't.
          He stepped out a few long minutes later and pulled on his terry cloth robe that Billy had given him for Christmas, then checked the bruises on his throat in the bathroom mirror. Not too, bad, they would probably look worse tomorrow, but at least his voice was almost sounding normal now. He heard the front door open and assuming it was Billy he moved toward the front room, but it wasn't the singer that stood in the small living room, just  a man who could be his twin.
         "Ra...Stan!" Fraser amended surprised. At first the blond said nothing, his eyes roaming everywhere but the man in front of him.  He and Beth must have returned to their hotel because Stan had obviously showered and changed his jeans and shirt. Finally his gaze rested on Fraser's throat observing the marks his own hands had left there and tears formed in his already pain filled eyes once more.
         "I...I'm sorry." He whispered wretchedly
         "I'm sorry too Stan." Fraser offered afraid if he moved any closer that the American would turn and run again. "Please believe that if I could change any of it, if I could have gone through it instead of you I would do so." They stood silently for what seemed an eternity.
         "Thanks for...for saving me, again." Stan offered quietly, though his eyes were still cast downward, remaining close to the door as if he might bolt from the room any minute.
         "It's what partners do, Stan." Fraser told him gently. "What friends do. We save each other." Stan shook his head, tears in his voice when he spoke.
         "I didn't." he croaked. "I...I didn't...I couldn't save you, Fraser." Fraser's eyes widened in shock. "I tried to but I..I couldn't save you from her."
         "Stan, you couldn't be expected to have done more than you did." He implored, appalled that the American was feeling guilty for letting him down, and he wondered if that was perhaps the real reason Ray hadn't wanted to see him.
         "I could have done more." Stan protested brokenly. "I..I should have...I didn't think..." He turned away frustrated. "You don't need a partner like me, Fraser. With friends like me who needs enemies?" Fraser moved then, quickly taking Kowalski's shaking shoulders and turning him back to face him. The shame and self-loathing he saw in the tormented steel blue eyes nauseate the Mountie.
         "Stan," he began cautiously. "Was that why you refused to see or speak to me all this time? You felt you were unworthy?" Stan lowered his eyes dejectedly.
         "S..some of it." He stammered. "I...I see you and it reminds me of being there with Victoria, that hurts, it's...it's hard to...to let it go. Some..sometimes i get so mad I..I have to blame someone and...and I guess i picked you.  Then, when I think of that, about hating you I feel guilty because that reminds me that I...didn't help you...I didn't w..work hard enough to get you out of there." He raised his head and met Fraser's intense gaze, tears openly streaming down his cheeks. "I...you were my partner and p...partner's stay to...together. I never s...should have left. If...if you had died I would have wanted to die with you Fraser." Stan started to move away but Fraser was already pulling him in his arms. Stan curled his arms around the Mountie, accepting the glorious sense of belonging he found there, the intoxicating feel of being wanted and loved.
         "Sshh, Stan." Fraser soothed, though tears prickled his own eyes as he held his partner close. "It's all right, it's all behind us now." Victoria hasn't won, he added silently. Oh please let thing be right between us again.
         "Fraser?" Stan whispered as he stepped back enough to gaze into the Mounties's eyes.
         "Yes?" Fraser asked softly, his heart pleading that the blond wasn't about to say they still couldn't be friends, but Stan's response was surprisingly unexpected.
         "Call me Ray, okay?" Fraser smiled, he couldn't help it even as he blinked back fresh tears.
         "Of course, Ray." He agreed tenderly. "I would be honored to." The two men hugged again, then separated and wiped at their now wet faces, suddenly embarrassed.
         "Wanna take a walk?' Ray asked and Fraser nodded eagerly, until the blond pointed out that the Mountie was still in his bathrobe. "In that?" Fraser blushed at his attire then laughed giddily.
        "J...just give me a minute, Ray." He requested hurrying back toward his room. "Don't go away, I'll be right back!" Ray picked up a tissue out of the box on the small table next to him, blew his nose, wiped his eyes and composed himself. He didn't plan on going anywhere, not now, not ever.
 

         Billy draped an arm over Beth's shoulders as the pair stood on the back patio and watched their two loved ones animatedly converse as they walked side by side down the long stretch of beach.
         "Thank God that's over!" Billy teased dramatically and Beth smiled up at him.
         "Amen." She agreed fondly. "I was a little worried there for a minute or two."
         "I wasn't." Billy commented as he lit a cigarette. "I knew it would work out the whole time."
         "Liar!" Beth laughed and he joined her after a sheepish shrug. "Can I ask you something, Billy."
         "Sure."
         "It's rather personal." She warned and he wiggled his eyebrows at her wickedly.
         "Well, okay, but I get to be on top." She laughed, blushed and smacked his arm simultaneously.
         "Never mind I think you just answered my question." She murmured and Billy's curiosity peaked.
         "Really? What was the question, you have me wondering all sorts of things now." He remarked as she leaned on the railing before them.
         "I was just wondering...and you can tell me it's none of my business if you want, but..." she took a deep breath, hesitant to ask but curious to know. "Exactly how close are you and Benton?"
         "Well," Billy commented amused as he puffed on his cigarette. "That's a subject that's a little more then just polite conversation." She nodded, embarrassed at her own audacity.
         "You don't have to tell me, I was just wondering." She assured. "You both just seem very...well good together." Billy again hooked his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the house.
         "Tell you what, pretty lady," he began as he tossed his cigarette over the patio rail and held the screen door open for her. "I'll tell you my secrets if you'll tell me yours." Beth smiled and nodded, this could be interesting indeed.
 
 

The end.