This is a Sequel to Gilda Lily's Mocking the Lonely Heart, the first installment of her Crystal Rain series. It is done with her very kind permission and encouragement. It is set in the same AU: Ray Vecchio never went undercover, but Ray Kowalski was assigned to the 27th Precinct and he and Renfield Turnbull became lovers.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. I bow before the great Alliance, and beg them not to sue. Seriously. Please.

Warnings: Slash. M/M

Turnbull looked at himself in the mirror and fought down his feelings of embarrassment. His therapist, Dr. Jessen, had assured him that no matter how simplistic this exercise seemed it would help him to make positive changes in his outlook -- improve his self-esteem, in current parlance.

"I..." he stopped to clear his throat. "I am worthy of respect and consideration," he wavered, and stopped. He did not sound at all convincing to himself. Maybe if he put on his uniform... but Dr. Jessen had told him he needed to do the exercise without it. He drew a deep breath and tried again.

"I am worthy..." Oops! That came out rather loud.

"Rennie? What's going on in there?" Oh no! He certainly didn't mean for Ray to find out about this. He was self-conscious enough as it was.

"Rennie?" There was a knock at the door and Ray Kowalski, the love of Renfield Turnbull's life, poked his head in. He had scraggly beard stubble, half-closed bleary eyes, and a trail of dried drool on his chin, the later two items courtesy of a late night playing poker with the guys from the precinct. Turnbull thought he looked adorable.

"Hellooo. Earth to Rennie. You OK in here?"

"Oh! Uh... Of course... er... that is to say..." Rennie stuttered. He felt the heat of a deep blush ascend his face, making his embarrassment even worse. Rennie knew if Ray questioned him, he would end up telling him everything. He had never been able to refuse Ray anything he asked. Well, except that time when he had a little too much to drink and wanted his car keys to drive to Judge DeSoto's home. Ray had wanted to share his opinion about that worthy public servant's exclusion of his testimony from the Martin kidnapping case.

"Rennie! That does it. First, ya tell me ya don't wanna go with me to poker night at the lieutenant's house, cause ya got 'something to take care of,' and now yer talkin' to yerrself in the can, and driftin' off to never-never land when I ask ya what's wrong. Now give! Why didn't ya want to go with me last night? Are the guys giving you a hard time? 'Cause if they are..." Ray's eyes narrowed. There was nothing sleepy about him now. Ever since a painful episode early in their relationship when Rennie overheard some hurtful remarks made about him at the precinct, Ray had become very protective of his Mountie. Word was now quickly given to any newcomers to the 27th that any remarks about one Constable Renfield Turnbull had better be 100% complimentary if made within the hearing of one Detective First Grade Stanley Raymond Kowalski. The consequences of any other sort of remark, no matter how mild, involved 158 pounds of outraged detective yelling in your face for an abject apology, and a flying fist if that apology was not immediately forthcoming.

"Oh no Ray! Its nothing like that!" Rennie was horrified. He knew that while Lieutenant Welsh was sympathetic to Ray's insistence on sticking up for his unofficial partner, there were limits to how many punches he could throw at the precinct without serious consequences. Now he would have to tell all, to keep Ray out of trouble.

"It's... well... I've been seeing a therapist, Ray."

"A therapist? What for?"

"Actually, Constable Fraser suggested it."

"He did? What made him think you needed to see a shrink?" Ray seemed both concerned and surprised. This was a vast improvement over the volcanic temper he had displayed earlier, and Rennie allowed himself a sigh of relief.

"Well, we were talking one day about, well, maintaining relationships, that is to say, working with, er, Americans...

Ray nodded. He knew that Fraser and Ray Vecchio were together like him and Rennie.

"And we were talking about expectations, and he suggested a therapist might be helpful."

"Expectations."

"Yes, Ray."

"You were talking about expectations, and he said you should see a shrink."

"Yes, Ray"

"Oookay. And what did this head-shrinker tell you."

"Actually, he's a therapist, Ray, not a head-hunter."

"So, what did this therapist tell you."

"Well, he suggested an exercise, which I was attempting to perform this morning, Ray."

"So, when I was lyin in bed, and thought I heard you talkin to yerself in the can, that was you, talking to yerself in the can on the advice of your therapist."

"Yes, Ray."

"So, this exercise, what is it?"

"It's called a 'Daily Affirmation,' Ray." Rennie was enthusiastic now. Ray's interest in his current project warmed him. "To perform this exercise, one looks at oneself in the mirror, and makes positive statements about oneself, statements one wishes to incorporate into one's self-image."

"And this is supposed to help you? Starin' in the mirror and talkin' like a discount talk-show host?"

"Well, yes Ray." Rennie was rather subdued. He could see that Ray did not approve of his efforts. His enthusiasm for the entire project was shaken. He wondered if he should just give up?

"Uh, I mean, uh, well, maybe this touchy-feely new age stuff has something to it huh? I mean, what do I know; I'm just a Chicago flat-foot with experimental hair, right? Uh, anyways, I gotta get in here. The Lieut's breathin' down my neck about the Layton case. I gotta get out there and canvass the neighborhood."

"Yes, Ray." Rennie left the bathroom, head lowered. Ray watched him cross the bedroom to get his uniform and cursed quietly to himself.

I suck.

*****

Jerk. Asshole. Stupid, fuckin Polack. Ray pulled his GTO away from the curb, reflecting on how crushed Rennie had looked this morning. He had long ago realized how delicate and sensitive Rennie's feelings were, and that for some reason, he, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, who barely made it through high school and dropped out of college and had one failed marriage under his belt, had more power over Rennie's feelings than anyone. It was just like that loveable goofball to think that someone like him was something special. Didn't Rennie realize you didn't give a fuck-up like him the power to hurt you?

Still, he did do his best, and sometimes he did well enough to think that in his better moments, he wasn't absurdly unworthy of Rennie's regard. Just plain unworthy, maybe. It started when Rennie got him that CD he had been looking for. Rennie was always giving him little presents, usually with a deep blush and a stammer. He would hover anxiously while Ray unwrapped them, waiting for his reaction. Ray quickly found that if he praised a gift too extravagantly, Rennie would discount his praise, and remain anxious, asking "Really? You really like it?" This time, however, he seemed to do something right. He gaped at the present, and exclaimed, "This is exactly what I have been looking for! How did you know!"

Rennie beamed. "I heard you mention it to Miss Vecchio, Ray."

"Wow! This completes my collection! I've been looking for it all over town!"

"I ordered it from a place I know in Canada. They have everything." Ray finally took his eyes off the CD and looked at Rennie. His breath caught. Rennie's anxiety had vanished. He was relaxed and smiling, and there was something more, something he had not seen in Rennie before. Rennie had accepted his compliments, and was basking in the satisfaction of a job well done.

Ray was thrilled. He made Rennie feel good! He resolved then and there to see that look on Rennie's face as often as possible. But how had he done it? What did he say right?

After a good deal of thought, Ray decided that Rennie would automatically reject direct praise. It was as if he couldn't really believe that Ray was sincere when telling him he was handsome, kind, and a wonderful lover. He remembered many occasions, basking in the indescribably wonderful afterglow of sex with Rennie, when he had murmured extravagant, but heartfelt praise into his lover's ear. Rennie would always hold him tenderly, and murmur, almost sadly, "You're so kind to me, Ray." It hurt to have Rennie dismiss his loving outpourings, but he realized that Rennie had lived a life so starved of praise, that he simply could not accept compliments, unless they were broken up into tiny pieces. Like a kid from Ethiopia facin a platter of T-bone steaks, Ray thought. He just can't digest 'em. Sometimes I'd like to go up to Canada and do some serious head-kicking on everyone who messed Rennie up so bad.

Still, once Ray got the hang of it, he could count on seeing Rennie feeling genuinely good after receiving a compliment. Of course, some of the 'compliments' were so subtle they would be completely missed by an observer untrained in the art of getting praise past Rennie's guard. For instance, if he praised Rennie's cooking outright, that led to an immediate and anxious, "Are you sure you like it Ray? I was afraid I used too much oregano in the soup..." and on and on. But if he simply fell on his food like a starving wolverine, Rennie would look quietly gratified. He learned quickly not to eat anything during the day, because if he picked at his food, Rennie would be crushed. But when Rennie felt confident of his ability to please Ray, he took chances in the kitchen that lead to some of the best food Ray had ever eaten.

Ray had quickly learned to apply his skills in Rennie-complimenting in the bedroom. With some difficulty, at first, he suppressed his natural impulse to pour out his heart into Rennie's disbelieving ear, and simply confined himself to asking things like "Was there a thunderstorm last night? I thought the windows were rattling." Or, when waking up the morning after, asking if he had bumped his head last night, because he was too far gone to notice. Rennie would answer "No, Ray," quite shyly through downcast eyelashes, blush deep red and look pleased. And once again, Rennie's new feelings of confidence in pleasing Ray paid rich dividends.

Ray sighed. It was tough sometimes, taking care of someone so sensitive. But it was worth it. More worth it than anything in his life. Nothing would be allowed to hurt his Rennie's feelings, if he had anything to say about it. Then, of course, there were the side benefits.

Rennie's sensitivity extended to his taste in loveplay. Ray learned to pay close, careful attention to Rennie's reactions, since he was not confident enough to simply tell Ray what he liked. Ray found that when he touched just firmly enough not to tickle, and used the tenderest kisses, the softest licks, and sucked gently, he would have Rennie sobbing in pleasure. If he kept it up longer, Rennie would transform into an aggressive, determined, lust-crazed animal, that would trap Ray beneath him (not that he would try very hard to get away) and then ravish him without mercy. Ray could picture it now, Rennie on top of him, sweating, growling, intent, pressing him into the mattress...

Shit. I have a hard on. Ray pulled up to the next light. Double shit. I'm picking up Fraser in half a block.

There was no way the observant Mountie would miss the state of Ray's jeans when sitting next to him in a car. Think, stupid. Uh glaciers, that's it. Icy, cold glaciers. Huge, hard, proud, magnificent visitors from the frozen north, thrusting their peaks into the sky. It didn't seem to be working. What is the most disgusting thing I can...? Aha! The morgue! Mort Gustafson singing opera, while cutting up a guy's spleen! That's it! His erection subsided, and Ray breathed a sigh of relief, just in time to pull over and pick up Constable Benton Fraser and Dief.

*****

Renfield Turnbull bent over his desk, diligently filling out supply requisition forms. He would have to work steadily to complete them before his turn at guard duty outside the consulate. Besides, the work helped keep his mind off his embarrassment in front of Ray this morning. And he had been doing so well lately!

He cast his mind back over his relationship with Ray. From the beginning, Ray had been kinder to him than any other lover he had known. Ray would often offer to drive him to work, even when he didn't spend the night. He was considerate of Turnbull in bed, never mocking his awkwardness, and seemed to put up with the dinners Turnbull liked to cook for him, and the little presents he couldn't help but give to him, with good grace. Out of the goodness of his heart, Ray would give him grand compliments that Turnbull knew couldn't possibly be sincere. The most wonderful lover he could imagine? He knows what heaven is in my arms? Ray was so very sweet, but he couldn't possibly take those remarks seriously, when he knew he was no fireball in bed. All his previous lovers had told him so! Chris, his first lover, was always impatient with Turnbull's attentiveness, and once, while in bed with Turnbull, had actually laughed... but there was no need to think about Chris now! He had much better things to think about.

Like how Ray had changed after that incident at the precinct. Turnbull still winced when he remembered overhearing Ray's sneering remarks to the other detectives: 'That goof is a real jerk, all right. He's not to be believed. He stumbles over his tongue as well as his feet. Maybe we could get him a job with a maid service.'

Of course, Ray had apologized later. In fact, he had been most abject about it, calling himself a jerk, saying he didn't deserve Turnbull, and actually crying. That apology was the beginning of the changes in Ray's behavior. He was kinder to Turnbull than ever. He insisted on knowing his work schedule, and when he would have errands throughout the city, driving him where he needed to go if he possibly could, and prevailing on Ray Vecchio to drive him when he couldn't be available. He would get little gifts for Turnbull from time to time, treasured proof that he was thinking of his Mountie when they were apart. He would give Turnbull groaningly wonderful foot rubs when he got home after a stretch of sentry duty in front of the consulate, carefully working over Turnbull's big feet with his strong, beautiful hands. He would take Turnbull out to eat at wonderful restaurants, even going so far as to wear a jacket and tie. Turnbull knew he found dressing up irksome. It filled Turnbull with happiness to see Ray take this kind of trouble for him. And on top of that, he could admire the sight of his Ray elegantly dressed, looking so sexy Turnbull could hardly take his eyes off him.

But there was a change that was even better than all of these. For some reason, Turnbull actually began to feel able to please Ray. He could tell by the way Ray devoured the dinners Turnbull prepared for him that Ray truly enjoyed his cooking. In fact, Turnbull thought his cooking had improved considerably once he felt confident enough to relax during the preparation. It was difficult to do anything right when you were terrified of making a mistake! He remembered one night, when he had forgotten to put the vegetables on in time, and they were undercooked. While he sat there with his head downcast, Ray had simply tasted the broccoli, remarked, "Hey, you made it crunchy tonight. I like it," and then proceeded to eat every bite. After that, dinners with Ray were an unalloyed pleasure.

And in bed, things were better than ever! Ray's sweet responsiveness in bed let Turnbull know that Ray enjoyed their lovemaking as much as he did. Turnbull's pen stopped moving over the forms as he thought of Ray's lips and hands caressing him gently, filling him with pleasure, driving him to the heights of ecstasy until he could no longer restrain himself...

Oh dear! This would never do! His uniform trousers were baggy, but his rather unprofessional state would still be quite visible when he stood. This could turn out to be quite humiliating. If only something would happen to alleviate his condition!

"Turnbull!"

Thank heavens. The Inspector.

Turnbull snapped to attention, his erection having melted like snow in springtime. Inspector Meg Thatcher handed him a large manila envelope.

"Take this to Lieutenant Welsh, Constable. Make certain he signs for it."

"Right away Inspector. And thank you."

Inspector Thatcher looked puzzled for a moment; then shook her head and entered her office. Turnbull put on his hat and headed for the door. It would have been nice to think he would see Ray at the precinct, but duty would not be denied, and Ray's duty would keep him in the housing projects today, canvassing the neighborhood for witnesses to the Layton shooting. Turnbull hoped Ray would find a witness soon.

Turnbull set off down the street as a brisk walk, mentally preparing tonight's dinner.

*****

See part 1 for Disclaimers and rating

"Now remember, Fraser, we can't expect any witnesses to approach us directly. The gangs are too well informed. No one is going to want it known they're helpin' us. Huey, Duey and us will walk the projects, handin' out business cards by the bucketful, and let them come to us. We've already got some phone tips from yesterday, but they're all anonymous."

Constable Benton Fraser nodded. "Of course, Ray." He was a little concerned about Ray Kowalski this morning. Not only was he repeating what he had already told him last evening, but he also seemed distracted and moody; not a good way to begin a walk through the projects. "Ray, you just ran that stop sign."

"All right! Jeez, ya don't have to be stikin yer nose in all the time Fraser. Ya know, sometimes people don't need your advice. Sometimes people are getting along just fine with other people until some do-gooder sticks his nose in."

"I apologize, Ray."

Fraser was becoming increasingly concerned and puzzled. Well, Ray had never been the sort to nurse a silent grudge. Doubtless he would tell Fraser what was truly bothering him soon.

"I mean some people wouldn't be accidentally hurting the feelings of other people if some do-gooder hadn't urged the other people to see a shrink that makes the other people stand in front of a mirror reciting garbage."

Fraser couldn't quite follow Ray's last complaint, but he had a glimmer of an idea that would lead him to his target, much like the shiny, sun-reflecting tracks of a dogsled on the horizon.

"Does this have something to do with Constable Turnbull, Ray?"

"Huh? Uh... oh. Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, why tell him to see a shrink, Fraser? There's nothing wrong with him. We were doing fine."

"Well, Ray, I have invited Constable Turnbull to confide in me if he should have any problems, much as any senior officer should to a junior one. Since professional counseling can be a great help to people, it seemed a prudent suggestion, and Dr. Jessen is highly qualified, with an M.D. and a Ph.D. in psychotherapy."

"What d'ya mean Fraser? Rennie came to you with a problem and you didn't tell me?"

"Certainly not, Ray. It is not my place to repeat matters brought to me in confidence."

"Well, I can see that. But that shrink you sent him to is some kind of goofball, Frase. I mean, he had Rennie standing in front of a mirror recitin' stuff about respect. How the heck is that supposed to help?"

"I believe it is called a 'daily affirmation,' Ray. While it is certainly no universal panacea, it can, if made a part of a regular counseling program, be useful in changing one's self-image."

"I don't know from pana-whatevers, Fraser, but I'm tellin ya, there ain't no way that recitin a bunch of big compliments is gonna help Rennie feel better about himself. Believe me Frase, that therapist of yours can have all the fancy degrees he wants, but I got the degree in Rennie Turnbull. Rennie just can't take big compliments like 'I am worthy of respect.' They don't soak in. Ya gotta sneak the sweet talk in under his guard. Besides, that recitin in front of a mirror is a whole lotta nothin. There ain't no way it can affect anybody."

"Oh, I think you're wrong Ray. I remember as a child I had a brief bout of nightmares about a giant otter..."

"Spare me, OK?"

"As you wish."

They drove for several more blocks.

"Frase?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"What did Rennie mean about expectations?"

"I don't follow, Ray."

"When Rennie was tellin me you suggested he see a shrink, he said that the two of ya were talking about expectations."

"Well, yes, Ray."

"What expectations, Fraser."

"Well, as I said before, Ray, it isn't my place--"

"Yeah, Frase I know! But this expectations thing had you so worried, you sent Rennie to see this goofball shrink. So I wanna know what the deal is. Come on Frase. Did he expect something from me? I knew it! He did, didn't he! He expected me to do something, and I let him down. What was it Frase? Did I forget his birthday? Is there some kind of Canadian thing he expected me to do? What?"

"Ray, please, calm down." Fraser was now more concerned than ever. Ray seemed to be on the edge of panic.

"Calm down? I hurt Rennie's feelings!" Ray pulled over to the curb, and rested his forehead against his hands, which were curled around the top of the steering wheel. "He's going to leave me, isn't he."

"Now, Ray," Fraser began gently.

"I knew it! He finally figured out what a loser I am at relationships, and that he could get anybody he wanted."

"Ray..."

"Ya know, I've seen him giving Vecchio the eye."

"Ray!" This was rather indignant.

"I'm sorry Frase, but it's true. Rennie has always been attracted to that guy. I've seen him blush when Vecchio speaks to him."

"Ray, you're being silly. Constable Turnbull doesn't expect anything from you, and has no intention of leaving you."

Yeah?"

"Yes, Ray."Ray sighed, put the car in gear, and pulled out into traffic.

*****

Constable Turnbull made his way through 27th precinct headquarters with care, holding the envelope entrusted to him by Inspector Thatcher in both hands. It was rather crowded today. Vice had apparently made a sweep this morning, as the building was full of women in states of dress not usually suitable for early spring in Chicago.

"Hey, watch it buster!"

Turnbull didn't quite know how it happened, but it felt as if something landed on his foot. He caught a small furry moving object out of the corner of his eye, perilously close to being trodden on by his rather large feet. Startled, he tried to move back, but recalled the envelope he was holding. Since he couldn't possibly risk damaging the envelope, he held onto it even more securely. Unfortunately, that meant he couldn't use an arm to steady himself when he lost his balance.

"Oh dear!" There was a crash.

Turnbull landed on the floor, along with a chair and a desk blotter. There was a moment of silence.

"Mew?"

"Buster!"

A young lady in tight shorts and a cheap imitation leather jacket scooped up a kitten that had been sitting next to Turnbull's feet. She shot Turnbull a frightened look, and disappeared into the crowd.

There was some smothered snickering and snorts from the onlookers. No one openly mocked him, as they might once have done before being exposed to what Turnbull's protective lover called 'jumping Bogart.' On the other hand, no one seemed to be offering assistance.

"OK, stand aside everybody. Nothing to see here. Geez, you'd think cops would know better than to rubberneck at an accident."

Turnbull craned his head towards the speaker in some surprise.

"Detective Vecchio! I thought you were in Boston."

"Yeah, well the extradition didn't take as long as we thought it would. Here, let me give you a hand." Ray Vecchio assisted Turnbull to his feet. "Take care, Rennie. I'll see you around."

"Oh! Uh Detective!"

"Yeah?"

"Are you headed to the consulate?"

Detective Vecchio coughed a little, self-consciously. "Well, yeah, I thought I'd stop by, say hi, the usual. You know."

"Yes, of course. I just thought you should know that Constable Fraser won't be there. He's assisting Ray today on the Layton case."

"Oh yeah?" Detective Vecchio reacted to this news with notable lack of enthusiasm. "He's with Stanley, huh. Where are they gonna be?"

"The projects."

"What the hell is Ray thinking bringing Fraser there?"

"Well, that isn't quite fair, Detective. Constable Fraser insisted on helping. You know how stern his sense of duty is."

"Oh do I ever. What is it about this case that got Fraser so worked up?"

Detective Vecchio listened grimly to Turnbull's explanation.

Rachel Layton, twelve years old, was visiting a school friend in the projects when a boy, not much older than she was, shot her for refusing to hand over her earrings. According to the shooter, he had done the deed on the orders of an older gang member, who wanted the earrings for his girlfriend. The shooter, Marcus Green, had claimed that he had acted in fear of his very life from the older boy, Gregory Harris. Ray had told him that after pulling Gregory Harris' file, the detectives had no doubt that the shooter's fear was both genuine and reasonable. Ray and the other detectives would be canvassing the neighborhood to see if they could find a corroborating witness who could testify that Harris had ordered Green to get the earrings, 'even if you have to kill the bitch.' Of course, they had Green's testimony, but the States Attorney would not go forward with merely the testimony of a co-conspirator.

"Huh. Well, technically, I have the rest of the day off. But for a case like this, I can overlook that. What say you and me go out there in the Riv, to see what we can turn up?"

"Of course, detective, as soon as I've made my delivery."

"Constable Turnbull, my office." Lieutenant Welsh turned back into his office towards his desk. Turnbull got up, and scanned the room, marking the location of the young woman and her kitten, then entered the lieutenant's office.

After delivering the precious envelope, and receiving a receipt, Turnbull made his excuses to Detective Vecchio, telling him he needed just a few minutes. He then went in search of the young woman. She was right where he had spotted her earlier, half-hidden in the corner.

"I do hope your kitten is alright, Miss."

"His name is Buster."

"Well, he certainly is a handsome fellow." Rennie held out a hand for the kitten to sniff, then carefully began rubbing behind Buster's ears. Buster began a loud, rumbling, ecstatic purr. "And rather vocal, too."

"What's that uniform you're wearing, Mister?"

"It's the dress uniform of a Constable in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"You're a Mountie? Like Dudley Do-Right? You help people?"

Apparently the young lady was a bit younger than her apparent age. Turnbull had never been very good at assessing women.

"Yes, Miss. That's why I became a Mountie; to help people."

"Can you help me?"

"Well, I'll certainly try."

"It's just that most people would be mad at Buster for making them trip, but you seem to like him. I don't like it when people get mad at me for stuff. Especially big people." This last remark was accompanied by a rather suspicious look.

"Well, I may be big, but I won't get mad. Why, once I was entertaining some children by reading to them from Guliver's Travels, and they took a page from the book and tied me down, just like the Liliputians did to Guliver! Now, most people would have been mad, but not me. I think most people make a great fuss over being embarrassed. But, with the life I've lived, what's embarrassment? An old friend! Anything to bring more joy to the world, say I. After all, isn't that just another way to help others? Why, I remember on one occasion-"

"You sure talk a lot, Mister."

"Er, yes."

"I just want to know if I should tell the cops about something I overheard the other day. Greg was being real mean to Marcus."

"Oh?" Constable Turnbull listened with interest.

*****

Fraser and Ray headed back to the GTO for their hourly 'We're in the projects and haven't been shot yet' report. Ray had begun the canvassing with his customary energy and verve, but lately had become more and more absent-minded and distracted. Fraser was becoming increasingly concerned.

"Are you all right, Ray? You seem distracted. I hope you are not becoming discouraged by our failure to find a witness so far. We will simply have to persist in our efforts. Good, steady thorough effort is just what's needed here. Why I remember tracking a litterbug through the Northern Territories once..."

"No stories right now Fraser, OK?" Ray was seated behind the wheel of his car, staring at his boots. He had been brooding at the ground or alternately, his boots, for the last half-hour. He didn't seem to have any desire to resume their search.

"Ray, if you are having any troubles, I wish you would confide in me. That's what friends are for after all, and I can be very discrete."

"Discrete, yeah. That's why you wouldn't tell me what was bothering Rennie when you talked."

"Quite right Ray." Fraser was encouraged. At least Ray was looking at him, and not his boots.

"Ya know, this morning, when we were talking about Rennie, and you told me he didn't have any expectations of me?"

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser began to have the uneasy feeling that he had not been as discrete as he thought.

"Well, when you told me that, I had this great feeling of relief. I mean, I'm always disappointing people - "

"That's not - "

"Stop it Fraser. You wanted me to talk, right?"

"Quite right Ray. Please continue."

"Well, I disappointed my Dad by dropping out of college, and Lord knows I disappointed Stella more or less constantly. She certainly let me know it often enough. So when you said Rennie had no expectations of me, I thought 'Thank God.' Cause if he doesn't expect anything of me, I can't possibly let him down, ya know?"

"That certainly seems to be logical, Ray." Fraser's voice was full of misgiving. "However - "

"The thing is though," Ray interrupted, "it isn't a good thing that he doesn't expect anything of me. It isn't good at all. I mean, its like he knows I'm going to let him down, like those other jerks he was involved in before me. I mean, like he knows it for a fact. And I'm thinking..." Ray choked for a moment, and couldn't continue.

"Thinking what, Ray?"

"All this time," Ray paused to clear his throat and wipe his eyes furiously. "All this time I've been trying to show him how much I care, how he can count on me. And it's just for nothing, ya know? It's just..." Ray was looking at his boots again, and didn't say anything further.

Fraser thought for a moment, then began carefully. "Ray, please look in the mirror."

Ray looked at Fraser in disbelief. "What the hell...?"

"Please, Ray. Trust me. Look in the mirror."

Ray looked at himself in the rearview mirror.

"Now repeat after me. 'I, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, am a true friend to all my friends."

"You're kidding, right Frase?"

"No, Ray. This is your daily affirmation."

"But this ain't going to do anything."

"If that's the case, Ray, you should have no trouble humoring me."

"Ha." Ray knew a challenge when he heard one. He turned resolutely back to his image in the rear view mirror. "I, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, am..." He wavered to a stop.

"Go on Ray."

"I, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, am a true friend to all my friends." This was surprisingly difficult.

"And if I have someone in my life that doesn't see that, it is it is my job to help him see the truth."

Ray looked down at his boots again for a moment. Then he said, "Sometimes you got a way with words, Fraser."

"Thank you Ray. Now look in the mirror, and repeat what I told you."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. In a firm, clear voice."

Before Ray could protest further, Francessca contacted them on the radio, and told them a witness had been found.

*****

"She just told you everything? Without you having to ask her questions or anything?"

"Well, she brought up the subject quite freely, Ray. Of course, she did have to be questioned while giving her statement. But Detective Vecchio was very patient with her. He really is quite good."

"Yeah, right. And I'm sure he was real eager to help you out, too."

Rennie looked at Ray uneasily. So far, the evening had been delightful. In fact, the entire day had been wonderful. Everyone at the precinct was happy that a witness had been found against Harris. His hand was shaken and his back slapped, and, "Way to go Turnbull!" sounded in his ears. Lieutenant Welsh had given him a, "Good Job, Constable," in the bullpen for everyone to see. He carried a little glow with him for the rest of the day.

Ray had been bursting with pride, reminding everyone who would sit still for it that he had always known Rennie was a good cop. If anything, he seemed happier with Rennie's success than Rennie was.

Now, however, he did not look happy. In fact he seemed to be developing a distinct glower. Rennie tried to figure out what had caused the change in mood. Had he done something wrong? His uneasy look changed to one of anxiety.

"Uh, I mean, that's great that he was there, Rennie. I'm sure you two made a great team." Yeah, and I'm sure that damned Italian was oozing around my Rennie, all 'Excuse me Turnbull, while I stand real close to you wearing this fuck-me cologne.'

Turnbull smiled, and Ray relaxed. What the hell. Rennie's happy, and that's what counts.

They were sitting together on the sofa, reliving the events of the day. So far, they were not touching each other, but both of them had firm plans to change that as the evening went on.

"Uh, Rennie?"

"Yes, Ray."

Ray licked his lips nervously, then blurted, "Do you trust me, Rennie?"

"Of course, Ray. I'd trust you with my life."

"Then how come...?"

"Ray? Ray, what is it?" Rennie moved closer to Ray and took him in his arms. They automatically arranged themselves in a familiar position, Ray half on top of Rennie, his head resting on his chest. That was how they slept together after they made love. Rennie loved waking up with Ray draped over him.

"How come you don't believe me when I try to tell you how much I care? I used to try to tell you after we made love, that it was like heaven for me, but you didn't believe me, so I stopped. I've tried and tried to let you know I care in a way that you'll believe, but its like you don't have any faith in me, Rennie. Today, Fraser let it slip that you don't have any expectations of me. Do you really think I'm going to leave you?"

"Oh, Ray! No! It's not that I don't trust you. Its just that, well, you could have anyone..."

"There! That proves it! Ya don't trust me Rennie. Why? Why do you think I'm just marking time here until I find something better to do? Do I neglect you?"

"No, Ray."

"Am I insensitive?"

"No, Ray."

"Inconsiderate?"

"Ray, you are the kindest, most attentive, tenderest lover I could ever desire."

"Then why, Rennie?"

"It's my problem, Ray. I'm afraid I haven't had the easiest time of it when it comes to relationships, especially lovers. I've been betrayed, laughed at... but I don't want to talk about that any more. I am trying my best not to let my history affect us, Ray. That's why I was doing the daily affirmation exercise this morning."

"I'm sorry Rennie. I've tried so hard to let you know I care, but I just can't seem to get it right."

"Oh, Ray!" Rennie tilted Ray's face up to his, and began kissing him gently. They kissed over and over, until their lips were swollen, and their breathing hoarse.

"It's not your fault Ray. Please believe me. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you when you told me how you felt. Sometimes it's as if there was a voice in my head, telling me I'm clumsy, stupid and awkward. I hate that voice, Ray. It makes me feel desperate; like I'm destined to be lonely and I should be grateful for any crumbs of affection that anyone throws me."

"But that ridiculous, Rennie."

"Of course, when I say it out loud, I can tell how silly it is. But old habits are hard to break. That's why Dr. Jessen suggested the daily affirmations -- to replace the old voice with a new one."

"Hmmm. Say, Rennie, I've got an affirmation for ya."

"Yes, Ray?"

"I, Rennie Turnbull, am the kind of guy that young kids instinctively trust, cause they know I won't hurt em, even if their kittens trip me, or they tie me up. And because I am this way, I found a witness that is gonna help the Chicago PD put away a scumbag that bullies young kids into committin' crimes that ruin their lives."

"Thank you, Ray."

"Don't thank me. Say your affirmation."

"It really should be done in front of a mirror, Ray."

"Say it anyway."

Rennie did so. He found that it was remarkably easy when in Ray's arms. Perhaps he could talk Ray into helping him with his affirmation every morning.

"Very good Rennie. Now try this one. 'I, Renfield Turnbull, have a handsome face, an ass like two rocks, washboard abs and delicious nipples..."

"Ray!"

"Too much? Just do the part about the nipples then."

"I certainly will not, Ray."

"Huh. Well, you owe me a penalty, then."

"There are no penalties with daily affirmations, Ray."

"When you do them with me, there are. Now, let's see. Okay, you have to answer a question."

"What question, Ray?"

"Did any of those jerks from your past make you feel bad about somethin you like to do in bed, so that you never tried it again?"

"What makes you ask that, Ray?"

"Well, I stopped tellin ya how godlike ya are in bed, when I could tell you didn't believe me. So I thought maybe one of those losers might've scared you off something."

"Well, there was one thing..." Rennie muttered. He was blushing a deep red.

"What?"

"Well, when I was with Chris, after we made love..."

"Yeah Rennie? Spit it out!"

"It's a difficult memory, Ray. He laughed at me you see. It was quite humiliating."

"Laughed at you!" Ray made a mental note to hunt down this Chris person and give him the head kicking to end all head kickings.

"Yes. We had just made love, and I was so happy that he wanted me, that as, I thought, he loved me, that I sang to him. That's when he laughed."

Rennie wouldn't meet Ray's eyes, so Ray carefully took Rennie's face between his hands.

"If you would sing to me to show me how happy I made you, I would be the happiest man in the world."

"Now, Ray?" Rennie asked shyly.

"Later."

Ray got up, took Rennie's hand, and led him to the bedroom.

The End

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