Author's notes: Hello. I think the first thing I should say is that this story involves the death of someone who once meant a lot to Ray. It's not Fraser, so don't worry!

I think this will be the last fic I write for a while, so I just wanted to say thanks to everybody who took the time to write to me. I'll still be around and if anybody wants to get in touch that would be great. I will be back!

"Love is, simply, caring more for others than you do for yourself. It's a measure of greatness that flashes rarely in an otherwise pretty sordid universe...."

CRYING FOR YESTERDAY

The ringing of the telephone woke Ray Kowalski from a half doze and he pulled himself away from Fraser to pick up the receiver. Then he realised that somehow during the lovemaking of earlier in the evening he and Fraser had switched and he was no longer on his 'favourite' side. Groaning, he rolled over and leaned across Fraser, this time managing to snag the receiver from its cradle.

"What?" he said, laying his head on Fraser's chest, the receiver held in his other hand. He squirmed as Fraser ran an idle hand down his back.

He went very still as he listened to the voice at the other end of the line, and the tension flooding into his body communicated itself to Fraser, who stopped his stroking and just rested his hand on Ray's shoulder.

"Yeah, I hear you," Ray said. "I just ... I dunno. I guess I'll be there in an hour or so." He put the phone back on the hook and rolled off Fraser, climbing out of bed.

"Ray?" Fraser asked tentatively. "What's happened? What's the matter?"

Ray was leafing through the clothing scattered on the floor. He pulled on his jeans and then picked Fraser's shirt off the back of the chair and put that on.

"I gotta go," he said flatly. "I gotta do something."

"What? Ray, please tell me what's wrong?" In his turn Fraser got out of bed, going to the closet and pulling out a fresh pair of jeans. "What do you have to do?"

"I gotta go see Mort," said Ray. "I gotta identify a body."

"What?" Fraser stopped, one arm in his clean shirt. "Ray..."

"That was Welsh. I'm down as next of kin..."

"To the Lieutenant?" Fraser continued dressing, confusion evident in his face.

"No. To Stella."

"Stella? Ray!" Fraser quickly pulled his shirt on and went over to Ray, taking one of his arms and pulling him around. "Ray, what are you talking about? Tell me what's happened!"

"She's dead, Fraser," said Ray, looking at Fraser as if he was looking at a stranger. "She's been killed."

"My god. When? Where?"

"Fraser, I don't know," said Ray, suddenly confused, not knowing what to do. "I have to go see her, find out what happened."

"Come on, then," said Fraser. "Do you want me to drive?"

"Why do you want to come?" asked Ray. "You're not down as next of kin."

"I want to know what happened. I want to be there if you need me," said Fraser, steering Ray towards the door.

Ray went without an argument.

*

When they arrived at the precinct, Fraser kept a close eye on Ray who had been utterly silent for the whole journey.

"Ray? We're here," said Fraser when it became obvious that Ray wasn't going to react to the car stopping.

"What? Oh right," said Ray, opening the door. He suddenly turned to Fraser and for the first time since the telephone call his face showed a little animation. "Don't leave me, Frase. Don't you go too."

"I'm not going anywhere Ray. I'll be here," said Fraser as soothingly as he could.

Ray nodded, then turned to look at the dark bulk of the precinct. He shivered slightly, but then climbed out of the car. Fraser quickly followed him.

*

Lieutenant Welsh was waiting with Mort when the two men walked into the morgue. A quick glance at Ray told Welsh all he needed to know about the man's state of mind. Fraser was slightly behind Ray, one hand on the detective's shoulder.

"Detective," said Welsh. "I'm truly sorry about this, but as the next of kin we need you to officially identify the body."

"Yeah, yeah I know," said Ray, gazing fixedly at the floor. "Could we just ... you know, get on with it?"

"This way, Ray," said Mort. "We've put her in here."

Fraser stepped forward with Ray, but Ray stopped and turned.

"No," he said. "I wanna do this myself, okay? You just make sure you're here."

"Of course Ray," answered Fraser and stood with Lieutenant Welsh while the other two men made their way into a smaller anteroom.

"This is bad, Fraser," said Welsh as soon as they were alone. "She's a hell of a sight. I wish there was some way we could avoid this."

"When was she found?" asked Fraser.

"About three hours ago," answered Welsh. "Her neighbour came home late and saw the door open. When she checked, she found Stella's body in the living room." Welsh sighed. "She was battered to death; it's a nasty case."

"Was there any evidence of other assault?" asked Fraser, eyes trained on the door through which Ray had left.

"No," said Welsh. "She wasn't raped and nothing was taken. Whoever it was got into that apartment somehow and quite simply beat her skull in. There are hardly any defence wounds, so it either happened quickly or she knew her attacker." A faint noise from behind the door made the Lieutenant look up and he quickly finished bringing Fraser up to date.

"Mort hasn't done the autopsy yet, he was waiting until Ray saw her, obviously, so we don't know about the possibility of drugs in her system. Kowalski stays off this case Constable, do you understand? He can have a couple of days off if he wants, but even if he comes in, this case is nothing to do with him. I've already called her parents so he doesn't have to."

"I understand sir," said Fraser.

The door opened and Ray came out, pale and sweating. He had very obviously just been sick. Mort had a friendly arm across the other man's shoulders.

Ray ignored the two men waiting for him and pushed straight through and out of the door. Fraser could hear his footsteps getting faster until he was almost running, and with a nod at the other men he too turned and left the morgue.

He found Ray in the men's room splashing cold water on his face. He had been sick again.

Fraser leaned on the basin next to Ray, but didn't speak.

"There was nothing left of her Frase," Ray said softly. "Nearly all her face was gone. She was always so beautiful..." He swallowed hard, trying to control himself.

"Ray, you don't need to be here," said Fraser. "Let's go home."

Ray pushed himself away from the basin until he was standing in the middle of the room. He was pale and had started to shiver as reaction set in. He didn't look at Fraser as he suddenly said, "I don't know what to do Fraser. I don't what I'm supposed to feel, what I'm supposed to do..."

"First, you have to sleep," Fraser put a gentle hand on Ray's back and pushed him out of the washroom. "You have to get some rest and then we'll figure out what we need to do."

*

As soon as they were back at the apartment Ray headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He needed a shower to try and wash the stink of the morgue away, and he needed time away from Fraser and his sometimes overwhelming protectiveness.

Stella was dead. Stella, for whom he would once have gladly laid down his life if she had only asked. Stella, who had cut him out of her life when he had fallen in love for only the second time. Stella, who he hadn't seen or spoken to since the day she had told him what she thought of his relationship with Fraser.

Stella, who had loved him.

Ray turned the shower on and peeled off his clothes, stepping under the warm jet of water, leaning his head against the cool tiles. His head ached so much, it was full of so many thoughts.

And there on top of everything, was Fraser. Fraser, who had showed him that it was possible to fall deeply, helplessly in love more than once; Fraser who was always there when he was needed, and who had never said a word against Stella and who even put up with the occasional Stella story.

"Oh Jesus, help me. I don't know what to do," whispered Ray. He slid down the tiles until he was sitting on the shower floor. He sat still for a few moments until a strange keening noise reached his ears. It was only then that he realised he was crying, and he puts his hands over his face to muffle the sound, wrapping himself around his pain and his confusion.

*

When Ray came out of the bathroom, Fraser knew he had been crying. His eyes were red and his breathing was still ragged, but neither man said anything about it. Wordlessly Fraser handed Ray a drink, and just as wordlessly Ray accepted it, sitting on the chair in the living room rather than the couch, making his isolation quite clear.

After half an hour of staring into space, Ray stood up. Fraser, surprised by the movement, looked up.

"Going to bed," said Ray. "You comin?"

"Yes Ray. I'll just wash these ..."

"No," said Ray sharply. "Don't. Just come to bed."

Fraser was at a loss. He felt grief that a young life had been wiped out so senselessly, and he knew that Ray had loved Stella for a long time. But as far as Fraser was concerned he was unable to find any true grief for Stella personally. She had been unpleasant to him whenever they had met and she had belittled Ray at every turn. Much as it pained him to admit it, he hadn't particularly liked the woman.

He stood up and followed Ray into the bedroom. Just inside the door Ray stopped and turned to Fraser, hugging him hard.

"Thanks," he said. "Thanks for being here." He pushed Fraser away. "Go shower, okay? You smell of death."

Fraser did as he was told and after a quick shower, he slipped into bed next to Ray who was lying on his side, eyes closed, as distant as he could make himself.

Tentatively Fraser wrapped an arm around Ray's waist, sighing in relief when Ray wriggled back into him.

"I don't know what to do Frase," said Ray. "Do you think I should go and see Stella's parents?" Then he suddenly sat straight upright, dislodging Fraser's hand. "Oh god, her parents! Has anybody told them?"

"Yes, they know," said Fraser soothingly. "Come on Ray, please lie down and sleep."

"I don't think I can sleep," said Ray, settling back into Fraser's arms. "I keep seeing her face in my mind, you know? That shouldn't happen to a person, not to anybody."

"No Ray it shouldn't, but you lying here like this isn't going to help. You must try and get some rest."

Ray flipped over until he was facing Fraser, settling his head into its accustomed place on Fraser's shoulder. They didn't speak again as, comforted by Fraser's steady breathing and strong heartbeat, Ray slowly slipped into a half doze; not deep enough to be called sleep, but at least it was rest.

Fraser lay awake, unable to sleep. He had his own guilt to deal with when it came to his feelings about Ms Kowalski.

The next day was difficult for both men. Ray woke in a grouchy, picky mood and try as he might, Fraser couldn't stop a snarky tone creeping into his voice every time he answered a question. By 10.30 both of them knew that something regrettable was going to be said.

"I still think I should go see Stella's parents," said Ray, idly leafing through the magazines littering the coffee table and accidentally knocking Fraser's book to the floor.

"Well if that's an example of your co-ordination it's probably better that you stay inside," snapped Fraser, bending down and retrieving the book. "At least that way you wouldn't be a danger to society in general."

Ray glared at Fraser. "You need to keep your smart comments to yourself," he snapped. "We're not fucking married you know!"

Both of them went totally silent, staring at each other, horrified at what Ray had just said.

"Ray..." Fraser finally took a hesitant step forward.

"No, it's okay," Ray held up a hand. "I'm sorry, Frase, truly I am. I gotta get out of here, just for a while. I'm going to see Stella's parents, okay?"

Fraser knew better than to offer himself as company. He nodded, watching as Ray walked into the small hall, fishing his keys out of his jacket pocket. He wanted to say something but he didn't know how to. If he used even the wrong tone while Ray was like this he could find himself punched in the head.

Ray stopped, one hand on the door, then sighed and turned around. With a few quick steps he covered the ground between them and put an arm around Fraser, pulling him close for a short, hard kiss. He released him then stepped back and the two men looked at each other. Finally Ray gave a quick nod and turned on his heel, leaving the apartment.

*

"Well son, this is going well," said Robert Fraser, reclining on the couch.

Fraser pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"What are you doing here dad?" he asked. "Is there something specific you want or are you just here to annoy me?"

"Don't take your temper out on me," snapped Bob, glaring at his son. "It's not my fault that between you, the two of you couldn't say what you feel to a cabbage."

"Why would either of us want to talk to a cabbage?" Despite himself Fraser found himself being drawn into yet another of his father's bizarre conversations.

"Your Uncle Tiberius loved cabbages," said Bob reminiscently. "And you do have a look of him you know." He tilted his head and squinted slightly. "You have his eyes."

"But when it comes to communicating, I'm your son all the way," said Fraser.

"One of you will have to give in and say something," said Bob. "Otherwise you'll lose him."

"No!" Fraser's voice was loud in the stillness of the apartment and his father turned surprised eyes to him.

"No," said Fraser, more quietly. "I will not lose him. I will break down every barrier you built in me before I do that."

"I never built those barriers, son," said Bob, surprisingly gently. "You managed to do that all by yourself."

Fraser turned away and walked to the window, gazing down at the street.

"I've never known anybody who made me feel like this," he said softly, "And it frightens me, to be so dependent on one person. I've never needed anybody like I need him, and I sometimes think he doesn't need me like that."

"Tell him, Benton," said Bob. "Just tell him."

When Fraser turned back, the couch was empty.

Ray pulled up outside Stella's childhood home and closed his eyes as he was assailed with memories. Stella at 12, blonde haired and privileged, befriending a lonely, moody boy and making him realise that he wasn't such a loser. Sneaking into this house at 15, Stella leading him into her bedroom where they kissed and fumbled until her father caught them. Stella at 20, marrying him and leaving her home to be with him.

Sighing, Ray climbed wearily out of the car and made his way to the door. It opened before he got there and he found himself staring at the familiar face of the housekeeper.

"Maria?" he said. "Hi Maria. D'you remember me?"

"Stanley!" she exclaimed in delight. "How could I not remember you? Still need fattening up, I see." Then her expression changed. "You're here to see Mr and Mrs Booth? Come in, come in."

Ray stepped over the threshold and into the echoing hall of the big house. He had never understood how anybody could consider something so huge and extravagant to be a home. It echoed and the sound made him think of loneliness and lost chances.

Maria left him there and went into the large drawing room. Ray heard a quick conversation, then Maria appeared again, beckoning him into the room. As he went past she squeezed his arm.

"When you're finished come to the kitchen," she whispered, and he nodded.

Anthony Booth was standing by the fireplace, oozing power in the way he always had. Lucy, Stella's mother, was sitting on a couch, a delicate china cup of tea held between trembling fingers.

"Er, hello," said Ray awkwardly. "I just wanted to come and say ... sorry, I guess."

Lucy didn't even look at him. Anthony nodded his acknowledgement but didn't speak for just long enough to make Ray feel like squirming.

"So what are the police doing?" Anthony finally asked.

"They'll have started the investigation," answered Ray. "They'll do their best to find whoever did this."

"So I should hope," said Anthony. "The taxes we pay..."

"Hey, I'm not here as a cop," said Ray. "I'm here as Stella's husband..."

"Ex husband," said Lucy suddenly, looking at Ray with eyes bright with unshed tears. "Ex husband," she repeated. "I believe that you've taken up with some man now." She curled her lip in disdain. "I always knew there was something damaged in you." She carefully put her cup down on the table and stood up, approaching Ray, who really wanted to take a step back but found he couldn't move.

Lucy stopped when she was no more than six inches away.

"You were never good enough for our daughter," she said coldly. "We told her that she had married beneath her class and we were right. You were with some ... * man * ... while she was dying." And with that Lucy slapped Ray as hard as she could across the face.

Ray rocked back on his heels, his pale face already showing the red imprint of Lucy's hand, but he didn't say anything.

"I think it's best you go," said Anthony, coming forward and putting his hands on Lucy's shoulders. "It's been very painful, as I'm sure you can imagine, and we have a lot of arrangements to make..."

Ray nodded and turned to leave. He didn't know what to say.

It was only when he was in the car, driving away, that he realised he hadn't gone to see Maria.

*

He didn't go back to the apartment immediately; he didn't want to go back to arguing with Fraser. He drove for a while, then stopped the car, intending to go for a cup of coffee, but the minute he walked into the diner his stomach clenched as the smell of food hit him, and he backed out, going back to the car.

He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror and winced. Lucy's fingerprints had faded, but he had that look on his face that hadn't been there for a long time. It was a look he used to get as a child when his father told him what a loser he was; or the look he got as an adult when Stella told him the same thing. It hadn't been there since Fraser.

Sighing, he picked up the cellphone and dialled the apartment, smiling as Fraser picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, he said. "It's me, I've been to see Stella's parents."

"How did it go?" asked Fraser cautiously.

"Not great, but I've done it now. Have you heard anything from the precinct?"

"Why don't you come back and we can talk about it?" asked Fraser.

"No, not just yet. I just want to talk to you, okay?"

"Okay," said Fraser. "Well yes, I did ring the precinct. I was worried about you; you weren't answering your cellphone and ..."

"Fraser!"

"Oh right, sorry. The police have been studying the security cameras for Ms Kowalski's building, and they think they may have spotted a man by the name of Jamie Donaldson. Some years ago Ms Kowalski was instrumental in making sure Mr Donaldson was sent to prison. As well as that, she also arranged for his family to be taken to another state and begin a new life, since Mr Donaldson was dangerously violent. He had been heard several times threatening Ms Kowalski. The police are looking for him now."

Ray closed his eyes as tears threatened.

"Ray, are you there?" asked Fraser.

"Yeah, I'm here," answered Ray. "I know the guy. He raped three women and threatened to kill his kids if his wife turned him in. She kept quiet for months, but in the end she couldn't keep the secret so she went to Stella."

"Ray, please come home," said Fraser softly.

"Soon. I'll come home soon," answered Ray. "I gotta go now." He paused and then said, very quickly, "I love you, you know?"

He hung up before Fraser could answer.

*

Fraser replaced the receiver and slumped despondently back on the couch. He wanted Ray to come back while he still had his father's words in his mind. He didn't want to lose Ray and he accepted that one of them would have to talk about Stella and what had happened. Fraser rested his head against the couch and scrubbed his hands over his face, trying not to think uncharitable thoughts.

Ray wasn't home soon; Ray was home as the last of the light went from the sky. Fraser, half out of his mind with worry, was pacing the apartment. He stopped when he heard the key in the lock and threw himself onto the couch, picking up a book in an attempt to be casual.

"Hi," said Ray, closing the door. He stopped and looked around, sniffing. "You've been cleaning, haven't you?"

"I may have straightened a few things here and there," said Fraser hastily turning the book around so that it was the right way up. "You were gone a while."

"Yeah, sorry," said Ray, dropping onto the couch next to Fraser. "I had a bit of thinking to do, you know?"

"As did I, Ray," answered Fraser.

"What were you thinking about?" asked Ray, half turning towards Fraser. "Were you thinking what an asshole I am?"

"No! Good god Ray, what makes you say something like that?" exclaimed Fraser.

"'Cos it's what I would think if I was you," answered Ray. "I know I am, you know. An asshole. Don't know why you bother with me."

"Because I want to," said Fraser, putting down his unread book. "Ray, we knew that this was never going to be plain sailing didn't we? We knew that we'd fight, we're too dissimilar not to. But we both agreed that it was worth fighting just to be here, where we are now. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember everything," said Ray. "Frase ... my mind," he put his forefinger against his temple, "it's full of crap right now. I can't stop thinking about what happened, and how we should be out there looking for Jamie Donaldson. I don't even know what I think about Stella anymore." He paused, looking down. He was going to say something else, but when he looked up again, he found he couldn't. Never good with words, his throat was too knotted up and he was too tired by the events of the day to have any chance of getting it right.

"Listen, let me get a drink," he said. "Then I'll take a shower and we'll talk, yeah? I just wanna get the street off me first."

"Of course Ray," answered Fraser.

Ray stood up and went towards the kitchen area, running a hand across Fraser's shoulder as he went. Fraser started to relax slightly. Ray, although tired, seemed to be a little better, perhaps a little more communicative.

Which was why the smashing of glass startled him so much. Fraser jumped up and practically ran into the kitchen. Ray was standing looking at his hand. Blood was running down his palm and dripping onto the shards on the floor. He looked at Fraser but didn't speak.

"Come on Ray, we need to get that cleaned," said Fraser gently. Ray nodded, but instead of moving towards Fraser he backed away, clenching his hand into a fist, no acknowledgement of pain showing on his face. He found his way blocked by the kitchen counter and turning around suddenly he swept everything off it, causing a noise so loud that even he was surprised.

He stayed where he was, bleeding hand cradled in his good one, back turned to Fraser, breathing hard.

Fraser approached Ray cautiously, not knowing what reaction to expect. He put one hand on the thin shoulder and fancied he could almost feel all the energy thrumming through the other man's body. Ray tensed, but didn't turn around.

"Ray, come on," Fraser tried again.

Ray's shoulders sagged in defeat and, pulling away from Fraser's touch he made his way into the bathroom. Fraser looked at the mess of smashed crockery and shook his head. He would have to leave it and just hope that Diefenbaker had more sense than to barge in looking for food.

Ray had his hand under the cold tap when Fraser got into the bathroom and the water was running clear, so quickly finding a clean towel Fraser took Ray's hand and dried it gently. He inspected the cut as closely as he could but there didn't seem to be any glass in the wound; it was just a clean cut.

Ray pulled away. "It's fine, Fraser, stop fussing," he said sharply. "Why do you always have to be fussing around me all the time? I can look after myself."

"I never said you couldn't," said Fraser. "I just want to help."

"I don't need your help," retorted Ray. "I managed just fine before you were here and I'll manage just fine when you're gone." With that he walked back into the bedroom.

Fraser stood in the bathroom, towel held forgotten in his hand as he played back what Ray had just said.

*

Ray threw himself full length on the bed and looked at the ceiling, but he couldn't get comfortable, so he turned onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. His hand was starting to sting and throb now, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt when he thought through what he had just said. Even as the words had left his mouth he had realised that he didn't mean them, but how the hell was he supposed to take them back? "Oh sorry Frase, I didn't mean to hurt you like that? It's just that Stella's dead and I don't know where my brain is... and then I saw that glass and remembered that it was a wedding present...."

Oh fuck. Stella's dead. While he had been in bed with Fraser, safe and loved, Stella was being beaten to death in her apartment by some maniac.

"Ray?" Fraser's voice intruded on his thoughts and he didn't stir. He felt the bed move as Fraser sat on the edge, and then he felt Fraser's hand rubbing along his back.

"I should have felt something Fraser," he said, voice muffled by the pillow. "Why didn't I feel anything? We were here, we were * fucking * , and she was dying. Why didn't I feel that?"

"I don't know Ray," Fraser's voice was even, unruffled. There was no sign that Ray's words had in any way affected him, and perversely that annoyed Ray out of all proportion.

He rolled over onto his back, away from Fraser and glared up at the other man.

"'I don't know Ray,'" he mimicked savagely. "Something you don't know there Fraser? Something the great Benton Fraser doesn't know? A Dear Diary moment I think."

"Ray..." Fraser stopped, looking down at his hands, not knowing where to go, what to do.

Ray pulled himself off the bed and moved over to the window, gazing at his reflection in the glass. His stomach was in knots, he couldn't think.

"Do you want me to leave, Ray?" Fraser's voice was so soft that Ray could hardly hear him. "You know that you only have to ..."

"No!" Ray didn't turn around. "No," he said again, a little more quietly. "Don't you leave me too. I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said; I didn't mean anything that I said. I'm such a fuckup."

There was silence from behind him so eventually Ray had to turn just to try and judge what was going on in Fraser's mind; never an easy task. Fraser hadn't moved from the bed; as far as Ray could see he hadn't moved so much as a muscle, his hand still outstretched to touch Ray.

Ray pushed himself away from the wall and went around the bed to Fraser, kneeling by his side, putting a tentative hand on the strong thigh. He took a deep breath.

"Look," he said. "I didn't mean what I said, you must know that. My brain works on a different speed to my mouth. You must know that I would never say something like that to you. You ... I need you," he stopped and shrugged, cursing his inability to say what he meant. "You know what I'm like with words," he said, tightening his hand slightly. "I never say what I mean. But I don't want you to go, not ever."

Slowly, Fraser's hand moved to rest over Ray's.

"I know Ray," he said quietly. "I do know. I just want to help you. I don't think you're helpless or incapable. I know you're far from that. I just want ...," he stopped and laughed softly. Ray looked at him, a question in his eyes.

"We're both bad with words when it counts," said Fraser. "I want to say so much to you, but I can't."

"Try," said Ray.

Fraser closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I just want you to want me," he said in a rush.

Ray pulled himself onto the bed next to Fraser, putting his arms around the other man, holding him close.

"Oh I do. Don't ever think I don't want you," he said.

Almost tentatively Fraser put his arms around Ray, returning the hug, and the two men were silent for a moment before Fraser slowly moved one of his hands up Ray's back, cradling the blond head, holding it still while, very softly, he kissed Ray's ear, tracing the delicate pattern with his tongue. Ray sighed and tilted his head, giving Fraser easier access, in his turn untucking Fraser's shirt and resting his hands on the naked flesh.

"Are you sure?" Fraser whispered, his hot breath making Ray shiver. "You want this now?"

Ray pulled back so that he could see Fraser's face. He knew what he had to do; he had to learn to put his past behind him and concentrate on his present; no, * their * present. He had hurt Fraser and he had to mend that; the guilt over Stella could be dealt with later, alone.

He didn't speak, just leaned forward and kissed Fraser very softly, hardly exerting any pressure, then pulling back again to run his tongue very lightly over Fraser's mouth, tracing the shape of his lips.

Fraser groaned and leaned forward, once more cradling Ray's head. The short blond hair offered no barrier, and Fraser could feel the contours of Ray's skull, delicate and vulnerable. It made Fraser want to fight the world to keep Ray safe, but he knew he couldn't do that. If Ray knew any of these feelings he would be angry; angry that Fraser thought he couldn't take care of himself. But Fraser did know that. He couldn't explain why Ray made him feel like this; perhaps, after all this time, he was finally learning what love really was.

His thoughts were distracted by Ray kissing him again, deeper this time, his tongue licking Fraser's lips. Fraser opened his mouth, letting Ray inside. The kisses were hard, deep, the two men almost fighting for control, and the room was filled with the noise of their battle.

Finally Ray conceded the fight and pulled his mouth away, tipping his head back, letting Fraser know what he wanted. Fraser obeyed, kissing Ray's neck, tongue sliding into the hollow of his collarbone.

Ray's hands finally moved from Fraser's back, sliding around his waist and up his chest, then back down again, retracing their path. The maddeningly soft touch made Fraser growl and push into the touch, wanting more, wanting it harder, but Ray wouldn't oblige, laughing at Fraser's growing frustration.

That skilled tongue of Fraser's was driving Ray slightly crazy, but he refused to give in to what Fraser wanted, not yet. He had to show Fraser exactly how much he was needed and he had only just started.

He put his hands on Fraser's chest again, this time suddenly pushing him backwards, normally a move he would have no chance of pulling off, but Fraser was half dazed with need. Ray straddled him, leaning forward so that he had a hand either side of that gorgeous face.

"Hi," he said, slightly breathlessly. "Got anything you want to say to me?"

"Ray..." Fraser's breathing was a little faster than normal but he sounded pretty clear headed. If it hadn't been for the slight undulation of his hips against Ray, he could almost have pulled off the cool act. "Ray, do you think you could possibly get some of these clothes off? They're a little ... restricting."

"Oh, guess I could manage that," said Ray, lowering his head and kissing Fraser again. Then he sat back up and began to unfasten the buttons on Fraser's shirt. Very slowly, loving Fraser's impatience.

Ray felt Fraser's hands at the waist of his jeans, unfastening the buttons there with a good deal more speed than Ray was achieving, and Ray couldn't stop the needy growl that came from his throat as Fraser's fingers dipped inside the open jeans and stroked down his hard dick. Fraser kept up the motion with his hips, which Ray was beginning to find very distracting.

"Stop it!" he said at last. "I'll never get this fucking shirt off if you keep doing ... oh, god!" Fraser's other hand had come to rest on Ray's stomach, not pushing or stroking; just lying there, but every time Fraser moved his hips Ray's body was pushed against that hand, setting up a double whammy of sensation.

Ray gave up on the buttons and simply pulled the shirt apart. Fraser winced as the buttons went flying, but he kept up the movement of his hips.

"I'm impressed," Ray said, leaning down against Fraser's hands so that he could run his tongue down Fraser's chest, circling each nipple in turn until they stood erect.

With another near-growl, Fraser finally gave in to temptation and flipped the smaller man over onto his back, kneeling between Ray's legs, tugging at the tight jeans.

Ray obligingly lifted his hips, and smiled when both pairs of jeans and Fraser's boxers hit the floor in record time, leaving Ray still wearing Fraser's shirt.

"Ow, hey!" protested Ray as Fraser began to tug on the shirt, none too gently. "Do you wanna ruin two perfectly good shirts in the space of five minutes?" He batted Fraser's hand away and began to work on the buttons himself, trying to distract himself from the sensations coursing through his body as Fraser lowered his head and began to kiss his stomach, working his way up rather than down, much to Ray's disappointment.

Ray struggled out of the shirt and lay back again, holding his arms up to Fraser.

"Come here," he said, and Fraser went willingly, letting himself be wrapped tightly in Ray's long arms and legs.

Fraser started up a soft rocking motion, nothing too demanding yet. He had both hands in Ray's hair, holding his head still, and he just looked, drinking in the sight of Ray. Ray where he should be; where he belonged.

"What?" gasped Ray, his hips moving seemingly with a will of their own. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," answered Fraser. "Just looking."

Ray nodded and briefly closed his eyes, revelling in the sensations coursing through his body. He opened them again when Fraser tugged on his hair.

This time Fraser didn't speak, he just looked. Ray put his hand on the back of Fraser's head and pulled him forward. The kiss this time was hard and demanding, but it was no longer a battle.

Fraser changed the mood by setting a faster pace with his hips, rougher, more on the edge of control, and Ray responded instinctively, the way he responded to everything. He wrapped his legs tighter around Fraser, moving his hands to the small of Fraser's back, pulling the bigger man in closer to him with each thrusting movement.

"Come on," he gasped, breaking the kiss, his lips still grazing Fraser's, "Come on, Fraser. You know that I want you now, don't you? You wouldn't ever go ..." His head tipped back and his eyes closed as orgasm neared.

Fraser kept his eyes open for as long as he could, drinking in the sight of Ray's completely abandoned expression. This was all that mattered. He had fought Stella for Ray when she was alive, and he would fight her again now she was dead. And he would win again.

"Oh god!" Ray's movements became frantic, his hands clutching at Fraser's back. "Please Fraser... Jesus!" His back arched so far off the bed as his orgasm hit that for one wild moment Fraser thought they would both end up on the floor, but then such thoughts were drowned out by pleasure searing through every nerve end as he came, calling out Ray's name.

They lay together, breathing hard. Ray kept one leg wrapped loosely around Fraser, just keeping him there. Fraser's head was tucked into the crook of Ray's neck. Neither man spoke for a minute, then Fraser pulled his head back and looked down at Ray, who was relaxed and half asleep.

"Okay?" said Fraser softly.

"Mmm," grunted Ray. "Shower though." He shifted slightly and grimaced. Fraser laughed and rolled off him. Ray climbed off the bed and made his way towards the bathroom. A moment later there was the noise of water running. Fraser got off the bed and picked up the jeans and shirts lying on the floor, tutting as he saw how many buttons were missing from the shirt Ray had pulled open. Bundling all the clothing together he walked to the bathroom and put the whole lot in the laundry basket.

Ray pulled the shower curtain back and climbed out and the two men smiled at each other but didn't speak as Fraser took his turn under the steaming water.

*

By the time Fraser made his way back into the bedroom the lights were out, the only illumination coming from a light left burning in the living room. Ray was under the sheets, eyes closed. He wasn't asleep though, and as Fraser joined him, he moved back until he was pressed against Fraser, who rested his arm loosely over Ray's waist.

"S'nice," whispered Ray. "I don't want you to go, okay? I want you and me to go to sleep and wake up together for the next fifty years."

"Sounds good," said Fraser softly, not wanting to speak loudly and disturb this mood.

"Stella's parents were kind of nasty today," said Ray, his hand coming up to cover Fraser's. "Her mother slapped me and as good as told me how disgusted she was that I was with a man now. With a man while her daughter was dying."

Fraser tightened his hold and kissed the back of Ray's neck, angry at a woman he didn't even know.

"Ray, it's not the fact that you were with a man, you must know that," he said. "It's just that you weren't with Stella, you have to understand that."

"I guess," sighed Ray. "I never meant to hurt anyone you know."

"And you haven't," answered Fraser. "You and Stella were over before we began. You do understand that, don't you?"

"Yeah," Ray wriggled further back into Fraser's warm body, pulling at Fraser's hand so that it was resting on his stomach. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I just like to beat myself up sometimes."

Fraser kissed the back of Ray's neck again.

"I know," he said.

Ray squeezed Fraser's hand and then yawned hugely. "M'tired," he said.

"Me too," answered Fraser. "We need sleep, both of us."

Ray didn't answer, already falling asleep. Fraser wasn't far behind.

"So today we gotta go see my folks," said Ray the next morning. "I don't think they know yet, and I can't believe that I didn't tell them yesterday. Too wrapped up in my own problems I guess."

"We'll go as soon as you like," said Fraser. "Are you sure you want me with you?"

Ray looked up but didn't answer. His scowl said it all and Fraser found himself half smiling at the sheer relief of something like a normal reaction from Ray.

After breakfast the two men set out for the trailer park the Kowalskis called home. It wasn't a long journey and although it was completed in silence there was little tension in the car.

As Ray parked the car the trailer door opened and Barbara Kowalski appeared, smiling brightly at her son.

"Stanley!" She embraced him warmly, accepting his dutiful kiss on her cheek. She then hugged Fraser in welcome. Although not completely comfortable with her son's relationship with this man, she accepted that she had rarely seen him happier.

"Er ... I shoulda called you yesterday," said Ray. "I need to talk to you and dad."

"Why? Is there something wrong? Are you all right?" Barbara looked around in incipient panic, trying to locate her husband.

"I'm fine," soothed Ray. "But I gotta tell you something, and I don't want to have to say it twice."

Damian appeared from around the far side of the trailer, wiping his hands on an oily rag; a grease monkey to the core.

"Son," he said, then nodded politely at Fraser.

"Stanley wants to tell us something, Damian," said Barbara. "Let's go inside."

The trailer was cramped with the four adults in it but after a little shifting of furniture they were all more or less comfortably seated.

"Well Stanley, what is it?" asked Damian.

Ray took a deep breath and looked at the floor.

"Stella's dead," he said. "She was killed in her apartment the night before last."

"My god!" Barbara exclaimed, putting a hand over her mouth. She and Stella had been good friends. "What happened? Do the police have any idea who did it?"

"Yeah, there's a pretty good lead on someone," answered Ray. "I don't really think you want to know what happened; it was pretty nasty. I had to go ID the body."

"Why?" asked Damian. He shook his head. "I mean, you're not married to her now, so why you?"

"She hadn't changed the next of kin details," answered Ray.

"Poor woman," said Barbara. "So young. It's so unfair." She stopped talking and looked away, her eyes bright. Damian reached out a little awkwardly and placed a hand over hers.

"When's the funeral?" he asked. Ray shrugged.

"Don't know yet. I'm gonna call today and try and find out what's happening. I guess her parents are seeing to the details."

"Should we call?" asked Barbara. Ray shook his head, but didn't explain any further.

"Are you working this case?" asked Damian, not surprised when Ray shook his head again.

"They don't want me near it," Ray explained. "I'm way too involved."

*

A long stay was never a possibility, not after a bombshell like that, and it was less than an hour after arriving that Ray and Fraser were on their way back to the apartment.

"Frase, I'm gonna go into work, okay?" Ray said, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I can't sit around with my thumb up my ass for however long it's going to take. I need something to take my mind off it, y'know?"

"I understand," said Fraser. "I have the late shift this week, so if you need anything ... and I mean anything .... You call the apartment."

"I will," said Ray, reaching over and squeezing Fraser's thigh. "You're okay, you know?"

"You're not so bad yourself." Fraser put his hand over Ray's and looked out of the passenger window before saying, a little too casually, "When are you going to call Stella's parents?"

"I'll do it from work. There's less chance of me losing my cool and shouting if I've got other people around me."

"Tell me how it goes won't you?"

"Sure."

"Well really, I would have thought that with you being a policeman you would know all the details." Lucy Booth's voice sounded brittle and tired; she was on the edge of something big involving a lot of tears.

"Yeah but I'm not allowed anywhere near the case," said Ray as patiently as he could. "You know that. I'm her next of kin."

"Were her next of kin, you mean," snapped Lucy.

"Okay, whatever," Ray sighed. "So would you mind telling me?"

"Her body is being released tomorrow, after all the tests are completed," said Lucy flatly. "We're interring her the following morning, which is the Saturday, in case you can't manage to work it out. Stanley .... I don't want you there."

Ray sat back in shock.

"But she was my * wife *," he finally managed to say. "I loved her."

"And now she's dead and you're with a man," retorted Lucy. "I don't want you there. Don't come." She hung up.

"I gotta go Frase. You do understand don't you?"

"Of course I do Ray," said Fraser, watching as Ray paced the apartment. They had been talking about Lucy Booth's telephone call for almost an hour now, and still it came back to the same conclusion; Ray wanted to go, Lucy didn't want him there. What should he do?

"Ray, please sit down," said Fraser. "I have something to tell you."

"What? You're not pregnant are you?"

"What?" Fraser was sure he must have misheard.

"Sorry," Ray shook his head and sat on the couch beside Fraser, twisting so that he was facing the other man. "Really bad joke there." He closed his eyes briefly. "I don't know what's with me right now; just ignore me."

"Very well," answered Fraser. He shifted so that he was facing Ray and reached out putting a hand on Ray's leg. Ray leaned his head against the back of the couch and smiled.

"What then?" he said.

"I've been trying to tell you since you got in, but you were somewhat... single minded. I had a phone call today as well."

"Oh? Who from?"

"From your mother," said Fraser carefully. Ray lifted his head, surprised.

"What did she want? She doesn't usually call you does she?"

"No. She'd heard from Mrs Booth as well regarding the funeral. She has been asked to go." Fraser tightened his grip slightly as Ray closed his eyes.

"Stella ... Stella was involved with someone Ray," Fraser's hand began to stroke up and down Ray's denim clad thigh, offering comfort. "Mrs Booth thinks it would be awkward if you and he were at the funeral together, and she would rather you stayed away."

"She had a boyfriend? Fraser, a few months ago that would have been a problem, but I've got you now, and I'd love to be able to tell her how happy I was for her. Both of us finally moving on." He paused. "But Lucy wants my mum to go, right?" Ray opened his eyes and looked steadily at Fraser. "Why do people hate me so fucking much?"

"No, Ray!" Fraser leaned forward so that his face was no more than an inch away from Ray's. "She just feels awkward about the whole thing. She's deeply shocked by this whole incident, you have to understand that. You're a connection to her daughter's past, to a happier time. She doesn't hate you. People don't hate you." He leaned forward the remaining inch and kissed Ray lightly. "You're impossible to hate anyway," he said. "You're too ... * you * to hate."

Ray shook his head and leaned into Fraser a little more, kissing him in return. He pulled away just long enough to mutter, "Freak," before Fraser's extra weight pushed him down to lie flat on the couch.

"Your freak," said Fraser, brushing his fingers through Ray's hair, smiling down at him.

"Oh yeah, my freak. Always that," Ray put his hands up to Fraser's chest and began to unfasten the buttons on his shirt. "My freak feeling horny?"

Fraser dipped his head, kissing the hollow of Ray's throat, making Ray arch up into the touch.

"Ohhhh," Ray whispered. "You only have to touch me and I'm ready for you, you know that?" He trapped one of Fraser's hands and put it between their bodies. "See?" he said.

"I'd like to see, yes," answered Fraser, tongue sliding over the line of Ray's jaw and up into his ear. His hand stayed where Ray had put it and he slowly began to rub. Ray shivered in excitement and Fraser felt it all over his body. This was all he had ever wanted and he refused to let anybody, dead or alive, take it away from him.

When the telephone rang early Saturday morning neither Ray nor Fraser were asleep, and as Ray picked up the receiver, he felt Fraser's hand settle on his back, not moving, just being there. He was glad of the comfort when his mother's voice sounded in his ear.

"Stanley, I'm just making sure you're all right."

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" he answered.

"Because of what today is," she said.

"I know what today is, mum. I'm coming down later after everybody's gone, okay? I don't want to hurt anyone but I've got to say goodbye to her. If I don't then she'll never be at peace, at least in my own mind."

"I won't go if you don't want me to," said Barbara.

"No, you go," Ray said. "You loved her too; you go say goodbye. I'll go later. You take care and I'll speak to you soon, okay?"

He put the phone down gently before his mother could enquire further into his mental state and lay back down in bed, Fraser's arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders.

"You sure you're okay?" asked Fraser. Ray shook his head.

"Don't think so," he said. "I don't think I'm okay at all. Maybe I'd be okay if they'd found Donaldson by now. Do you think they're actually trying to find him?"

"You know they are Ray. They'll find him and he'll be punished for what he did."

"I guess. It's just so fucking frustrating that I can't do anything, y'know? They won't even tell me how the case is going." He sighed and pushed himself upright, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What're we going to do until we can go the cemetery?"

"What would you like to do?" asked Fraser. "We'll do whatever you want."

Ray turned around and looked intently at Fraser. "I'd like to stay in bed all day and fuck," he said. "I'd like to forget what today is. I'd like to be able to lock all this guilt away and get on with my life. But what I think we should do is go for a long drive, out of Chicago. I may even be persuaded to do a bit of that thing ... oh what's it called?"

"What's what called?" asked Fraser.

"Oh you know. Lemme think. That's it! Walk. I may even be persuaded to do a bit of that walk thing," Ray leaned over and kissed Fraser. "So get up, 'cos today you will witness a miracle. Me discovering that feet aren't just for pushing the gas and brake pedals."

"Something to behold," agreed Fraser solemnly.

They didn't touch much in public; Fraser was too recognisable and Ray too wary to feel comfortable doing so. But here, out in the woods, walking slowly among the trees, touching was natural and easy. The weather was cold and rain was threatening so most people were indoors, leaving the woods to only a few hardy souls.

Fraser slipped his hand into the pocket of the Ray's jacket and squeezed his fingers. Startled out of his own thoughts Ray looked up and smiled.

"Okay?" Fraser asked.

"Better," said Ray, stepping closer to Fraser so that their hips were touching as they walked. "Better to be out, y'know?"

"Good," said Fraser. He stopped walking so Ray had to stop as well since Fraser hadn't let go of his hand.

"What's the matter?" asked Ray. It had started to rain, just a fine drizzle, hardly noticeable, but soaking everything it touched in a matter of seconds and Fraser's hair had begun to curl in that rebellious way it had. Ray loved to see it, and couldn't resist putting his free hand up and running his fingers through it.

"Stop beating yourself up over it," said Fraser flatly. "Stop it. It wasn't your fault, you shouldn't feel guilty about it. Just because you were with me, just because you were ... loving me. It doesn't make a difference. Please let that guilt go. Please."

Before he even realised what he was doing Ray had stepped forward and embraced him, holding him close and tight.

"I'm trying to Frase," he said. "Let me say goodbye to her today, okay? Let me do that. I'll say goodbye." He kissed Fraser's cheek, surprised at how cold it was. "Man, you don't get cold!" he said. "You're not sick are you?"

"No I'm not sick," said Fraser, tightening his hold around Ray briefly before releasing him and stepping back. "But in case you hadn't noticed it's cold enough to snow and we're out here in leather jackets. I think we should get back."

Ray looked at his watch.

"Yeah, you're right. We can stop on the way, okay?"

*

The newly turned grave should have looked barren and stark, but it was covered in expensive looking floral tributes. If not loved, Stella had been admired and respected, and her death was a shock to the community in which she moved.

Fraser stood at a respectful distance as Ray moved forward, dropping to his knees by the mound of newly turned earth, not caring about the flowers.

"Hey Stel," Ray said quietly. "Just wanted to say goodbye. We never really said goodbye did we? You were too busy throwing things at me. Er, I heard you had a boyfriend, so I hope you were happy; I wanted you to be as happy as I was. I wish we could have been friends too, but maybe that would have come, d'you think?"

He looked over his shoulder at Fraser, standing solid and patient and he felt tears begin to sting his eyes. He turned back to the grave.

"I loved you Stella, and I love him. You remember how you once said we had a high, wild love? Me and him, we go deep. High and wild is good for when you're young and you're gonna live forever, but in the end I think deep is the best." He dug in the pocket of his jeans. "I got something for you."

Very carefully he pushed the wedding ring into the soft earth and then covered it up.

"You be careful up there on your cloud. Don't give God a hard time, okay?" He put a hand over the place where the ring now lay. "I'll never forget you, Stella. We had some good times, but my man's waiting for me."

He stood up and brushed the wet earth off his knees and turned his back on the grave.

The rain had set in for the day and dark came early. By 4.30 the lights were on in the apartment, casting a homely, warm glow. Ray, more at peace with himself than he had been for days, was crouching by the CD cabinet, ostensibly looking for a particular disc, but in fact just needing to speak without having to look at Fraser.

"Life's for the living," He snorted in disgust. "It's a stupid thing to say, but it's true I guess. Stella an' me ... when we were together it was great, y'know? But you and me ... we're alive and we're together, and just because I was with you when she died doesn't mean that it's my fault, I know that. But I ... she was my wife for a long time."

"I know that Ray, truly I do," said Fraser, who was sitting on the couch, busily studying the wall opposite. "But it's us now, and it'll be us for a long time. It wasn't your fault, you have nothing to feel guilty for. Do you really understand that?"

Ray nodded, running his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, yeah I do," he said. "But it hurts, losing someone like that, so random and pointless." He paused. "But you'd know about that wouldn't you?"

"My father?" Fraser half smiled. "Yes, I understand about the randomness of violence and the stupidity too. But you shouldn't become a victim yourself. You know that they'll find Donaldson and he'll get his punishment. We won't forget Stella. Neither of us will." He pushed himself off the couch and went to stand by Ray. He put an arm around the other man's shoulder, just resting it there lightly. Ray glanced out of the corner of his eye, but didn't speak.

"Do you think they're somewhere now?" Ray finally asked. "You know, Stella and your dad. Maybe watching us or something?"

"Oh god, I hope not," said Fraser, horrified, looking around frantically and startling Ray into laughter.

"I didn't mean literally in the corner or something," he said. "I just meant well, I'd like to think that Stella's not on her own, y'know?"

"I'm quite sure she's not alone Ray," said Fraser, tightening his grip slightly.

Judging by the pained look on the face of Robert Fraser, standing by the window, Fraser knew that on this score he was right.

The End