Closer

Disclaimer: Due South doesn't belong to me, sob, whimper.
Pairing:Fraser/Vecchio
Rating: PG for m/m implications
Note: This is an AU in which Call of the Wild never happened.

Closer

Ray Kowalski entered the silent bullpen, intent on getting enough paperwork done that he could finally spend a quiet week-end without the threat of Welsh's wrath hanging over his head. He'd thought briefly about getting Fraser to help out, since the Mountie had, of course, been the reason he hadn't finished his work in the first place, then decided against it. Knowing Fraser, he'd notice that one of Ray's paperclips was missing and the two of them would soon end up embroiled in some bizarre office-supply smuggling ring, and his reports would go unfinished once again.

Kowalski sighed, a mixture of fondness and exasperation, at the thought of his crazy partner. Maybe he'd take the Mountie to a hockey game this week-end... anything to get the man out of that gloomy consulate, where Fraser had been sulking for the last few days. Not, of course, that he'd ever admit to sulking, but he was definitely feeling down about something, though Ray hadn't been able to figure out what was bothering his friend.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a man standing by his desk, staring down at the cluttered surface as if his life depended on it. He was tall, with close-cropped, receding dark hair and a prominent nose which, oddly enough, did not detract from his good looks. He was dressed in a loose-fitting, expensive-looking suit, and his long, graceful neck was bent slightly as he kept his eyes rivetted on Kowalski's desk. Ray followed the man's gaze and realized that the object which had caught his attention was the framed picture of Fraser and himself that Frannie had taken at the last Christmas party, the two of them standing close together in easy camaraderie, Fraser's Stetson perched on Ray's head.

Curious now, and not a little suspicious, he cautiously approached the man. "Can I help you?"

The stranger turned, startled, then quickly looked Kowalski over. "Ray Vecchio," he said grimly.

"That's my name," Ray answered warily, surprised at the other man's sudden, tired smile.

"Think I could have it back now?" he asked drily, and Ray suddenly realized where he'd seen this man before, feeling like an idiot for not having realized it earlier. After all, he *had* been this man for over a year; though all the pictures he'd been shown of that ebullient, vivacious Italian-American detective were nothing like the quiet, haunted man that stood before him now.

"Sure, I guess," he answered finally, with a slight grin of his own. "I don't know how I pulled it off for so long, anyway; I sure as hell don't look like a Vecchio."

"That's for damn sure," replied Vecchio, looking him over once again, and Kowalski realized that next to Vecchio's slick style he himself just looked like a skinny, scruffy polack. The other man must have seen a change in Kowalski's expression, though, because he sighed suddenly. "Look, that was out of line; I'm sorry."

Surprised, Kowalski shook his head. "No problem; I guess you're pretty stressed out right about now."

That earned him a grateful look. "You have no idea..." Vecchio began quietly, then frowned. "Jesus, I don't even know your name."

The blond detective braced himself. "Stan Kowalski," he said, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

Vecchio stared at him. "Your name is Stanley Kowalski?"

Kowalski rolled his eyes. "Yeah, my dad had a thing for Brando, yadda yadda yadda. Ray's my middle name, though, so I usually go by that." He flashed his sunny grin at Vecchio. "I should thank you, actually, for lettin' me ditch that name for a while."

Vecchio smiled back, then sobered again. "Nah, Kowalski. I'm the one who should be thanking you, for taking care of my family all this time... and Benny."

Kowalski flushed, unprepared for the sincerity of the other man's thanks. Of all the times he'd pictured meeting this man, he never imagined it would go like this. Then Vecchio's last words hit him and he chuckled. "Benny? He lets you call him Benny?"

A look of pain flashed briefly across Vecchio's features as the man thought of all the other things the Mountie had let Ray call him... 'Caro' being at the top of the list. "Yeah, well," he answered lightly, "it keeps him humble. Anyway, thanks for sticking with him; I know he can be hard to put up with sometimes."

"Oh yeah," Kowalski replied, thinking back to the incident on that boat-ship. "But it's worth it," he said softly; "he's a good guy."

Vecchio glanced briefly down at the picture again, then back to his alter-ego. "That he is."

"He's gonna go nuts when he sees you," Kowalski went on, and Ray felt a flash of familiar guilt run through him.

"I don't know about that, Kowalski; I mean, I ran out on the guy over a year ago."

Kowalski frowned. "It's not like you had a lot of choice, though; he understood that. Besides, you were his best friend, he's not gonna just forget about you, right?"

Ray winced inwardly at the other man's use of the past tense. So he wasn't Benny's best friend any more... he wondered in what other ways this man had replaced him, and he felt a sudden surge of jealousy, replaced almost immediately with despair. After all, if Benny had been driven away, wasn't it Ray's own fault for leaving?

He came back to the present with a jolt, realizing that Kowalski was looking at him funny. He gestured over to the picture on his old desk, the one he'd been looking at before, captivated by Fraser's bright, happy smile, horrified by his closeness to the blond detective and by the obvious intimacy between the two men. "Looks like you two are pretty close."

"He's my best friend," Kowalski said simply, and Ray nodded sadly. Kowalski studied him curiously for a moment longer, then realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Certain comments Fraser had made over the past year now made sense, as did Vecchio's strange behaviour. *Geez,* he thought, *he could've told me.* On the heels of that reflection, though, he realized that no, Fraser couldn't have, not if he thought the news would freak Kowalski out and drive him away. No, Fraser had already had too many people leave him; he deserved to be happy, for once. He reached out and briefly laid a gentle hand on Vecchio's lean shoulder.

"Just friends, Vecchio. Nothing else."

The other man's green eyes widened then darted away, but not before Kowalski had seen the relief flash through them. Pressing the issue, he went on. "You know, maybe you should drop by the Consulate; he's probably still up."

Vecchio's brow furrowed in confusion. "What? It's eight o'clock on a Friday night. What the hell would he be doing at the Consulate?"

Kowalski smiled, realizing that there had been quite a few changes since Vecchio's departure. He couldn't wait to see Ray's reaction to the fact that his ditzy kid sister was their new civilian aide... though he'd let Fraser tell him about the Riv.

"Fraser's apartment building burned down just after you left," he explained. "He's been livin' in his office since then."

Vecchio stared at him in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope," Kowalski grinned. "Look, Vecchio, stop wasting your time here, and go see the guy already. I got work to do."

Ray blinked, then smiled back, a glimmer of long-forgotten hope lighting his eyes. "Right," he said, hesitating a moment before extending his hand. "Thanks, Kowalski."

"No problem, Vecchio," he answered, shaking the other's hand. As Vecchio turned to go, though, he couldn't resist adding, "By the way, Thatcher and Turnbull are in Ottawa until Monday."

For the first time that evening, Vecchio's smile reached his eyes. "Understood," he said, then turned and left the bullpen.

Kowalski watched him go, his own emotions turbulent. He couldn't honestly say that he was sorry to see Vecchio back; living as the other man, even for a short time, had certainly had its ups and downs, though it had certainly been better than living as himself had been after Stella had left, and maybe now he'd be able to ask Frannie out without defying any laws of state or nature. And Fraser was going to be overjoyed by Vecchio's presence, that much he knew, which made him happy.

It was just that Kowalski had gotten used to this new life, to his freak of a partner and his new overbearing family, and he really didn't want to give any of that up.

With a sigh, he put aside those depressing thoughts and settled down to his work, knowing that Vecchio's return would, if nothing else, bring a whole new spate of paperwork come Monday morning.

And as he worked, he wondered idly whether Francesca Vecchio liked hockey.


Please send feedback!