(Very) mild slash warning. Actually - extremely pathetic on the slash scale ... hard to imagine anyone would be offended ... but ya just never know. So there's your warning.

This is a sequel to Seeking (&) Understanding, which is a sequel to The Mask Slips ... in other words, I sort of accidentally seem to have started a series, without naming it as such. And frankly, I have enough trouble with titles, without having to name an entire series ... so here's to sequels to sequels ...

All the usual disclaimers apply. The lads do not belong to me (okay, Jack Leighton does, but I don't think anyone will be devastated by that fact ... although he is an eligible bachelor ... and a doctor to boot ... Fraser and Kowalski belong to Alliance. I just borrowed, played with 'em and put them back.

Thanks to Mary Ann for her usual helpful suggestions and Sarah, for her continued nagging ... I mean encouragement! Both are highly appreciated.

Fraser stretched and yawned, looking at his watch. 5:00 p.m. He'd made a good dent in the reports Thatcher had assigned him to review, but his work day was over now. He wanted to get a cup of tea and a bite to eat before Ray arrived. They had made plans to go see a Canadian film that Fraser was particularly interested in. He looked at the reports. Leaving anything unfinished was an unsettling idea. But, he just didn't have time. He contented himself with the thought that he could finish them later, after the film.

In the kitchen, Fraser put the kettle on to boil and glanced around, seeing what there was to eat. He spied a plate of brownies on the table. He was grateful that Diefenbaker had not followed him. Looking at the brownies, the Mountie admitted to himself that they looked very good. He didn't eat sweets very often, but that didn't mean he didn't like them. And in his efforts to provide Kowalski with a good dietary example (an example the blond seemed completely oblivious to) it had been a very long time since he'd had a treat like this. It was almost with a sense of guilt that he finally gave in and took a brownie. It was wonderful. Moist, chewy and rich. Everything one would want in a brownie. Fraser finished steeping his tea and helped himself to another one. Between the brownies and the tea, he felt suddenly refreshed and energetic. If he hurried, he thought, he might even be able to finish the last of those reports before Ray arrived.

Ray bounded up the steps and into the Consulate. He was feeling quite pleased with himself. After the Mountie had mentioned a favorite Canadian director, Ray had done some research and found that one of his films was opening in Chicago tonight. It was a small gesture, but he wanted to do something nice for his partner; something to let him know that he appreciated everything the Mountie was doing for him. "Frase? Where y'at?" he called. No answer. He frowned and checked his watch. He was only a couple of minutes late. The Mountie wouldn't have gone off. "Frase?" he called again, walking down the hall. He heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Very un-Mountie like, he thought, stopping to listen. Silence. Shaking his head, he continued back down towards his partner's office. Stepping inside, he stopped, shocked. The place looked like a tornado had ripped through it. Ray was instantly worried. He quickly searched the office, checking the closet and behind the desk. No sign of the Mountie or the wolf. "Damn!" Ray muttered to himself, unsheathing his gun. He listened for a moment. Nothing. Cautiously, he stepped outside the office. He was immediately tackled and slammed to the ground - hard.

"Surprise!" said his attacker.

"Frase?! What the Hell was that?" Ray twisted himself out from under his larger partner, looking to see where his gun had landed.

"Why, Ray my good friend, that was a tackle. A little physical exercise before the evening's events. I seem to have a surplus of energy. Shall we box?" The Canadian leapt to his feet, putting up his fists. There was a strange glint in his eyes. Ray stepped back, out of Fraser's range. The Mountie was dancing back and forth on his feet, but staying in place. "I thought you liked boxing," he said, seemingly put out.

"Yeah - with gloves an' gear. In a ring. What is wrong with you?" Ray looked closely at his partner. The Mountie was flushed and perspiring heavily. His eyes did not focus on the blond, but rather were darting around the room. His pupils were pinpoints. "Frase - you take something?" Ray asked hesitantly, trying get close enough to examine his partner, while staying out of reach of those rapidly moving fists.

"How dare you!" Fraser was outraged. "I never took anything. Well, all right. A box of Milk Duds, but it was in a good cause and I paid for my crime. That's over and done with!" He spoke rapidly as he advanced on the smaller man.

"Whoa, back up there. Didn't mean steal," Ray said, nervously sidestepping the Mountie. He was running out of room to maneuver and had no illusions about his chances in a fist fight with the larger man.

"Well, then, just what did you mean," Fraser demanded, belligerently, shoving Ray back against the wall.

"I dunno, medication or somethin'? Just, ya don't seem ... yourself ... exactly," Ray said as tactfully as possibly, while ducking under the Mountie's arm and sliding away from the wall.

"If I'm not myself, then who am I?"

"Workin' on that," the blond acknowledged.

"That's not an answer, Ray." The Mountie's voice had dropped suddenly and the new tone sent a chill down Kowalski's spine.

"Well, it's the best I can do right now, Frase. But ... uh ... if you want ta sit down and talk about it, I can try and come up with somethin' better."

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you? To lull me into complacency; watching until I make a mistake. Do you think I don't know what's going on? What it is that you're trying to do?"

"Frase, what're you talkin' about? What's goin' on?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Why else would you bring all of them along? I thought we were supposed to go to a film together. Why are they here? Who are they?!" the Canadian suddenly demanded. Ray started to turn to see where the Mountie was motioning and then thought better of it. Turning back, he was just in time to catch Fraser's fist to his jaw. He went reeling down the hallway, just catching himself before he fell.

"What the Hell was that for?" he yelled, holding his jaw gingerly.

"Stop pretending, Ray. I know exactly what you're up to. Do you have any idea how wearing it gets? How hard it is to maintain? Knowing everyone is just watching and waiting for me to fail? And now you bring them along to watch?! It's too much. I can't take any more of this." The Mountie advanced on him.

"Ben, talk to me. Tell me what's goin' on. Please." Ray was shaking with adrenaline and fear. He kept hoping that he'd wake up; that it was just another one of his screwed up nightmares. Instead, the Mountie rushed him and he found himself slammed back into a wall, pain jolting through his body. Kowalski tried to concentrate, tried to ignore the pain.

"You betrayed me!" the Mountie shouted. "I trusted you. I believed in you ... believed in your friendship." He punctuated his words with solid punches to the blond's torso. Ray tried to ward off the blows, but the Mountie was stronger and faster than he was ... even without the influence of whatever he was on.

"No. No, I would never ..." Ray started to say, then stopped, realizing he was wasting his breath. Fraser continued to rant and hit, without listening. Ray thought desperately, trying to ignore the pain. Rational conversation was obviously not an option. He wracked his brain, trying to think of something brilliant, trying to focus as the Mountie used his body as a punching bag. "Hey, ya hungry? Want to get something to eat?" Oh yeah, that's brilliant, he thought, sarcastically.

"What?" Fraser stopped.

"Ya hungry?" Ray repeated, hopefully. The Mountie thought that over for a moment.

"No," he decided. But Kowalski wasn't waiting for the answer. As the Mountie replied, Ray head-butted him. Fraser remained standing, a slightly confused look on his face. Ray hit him again. And again. The Canadian fell first to his knees and then forward, into Ray who caught him and eased him to the ground. He knelt over Fraser trying to collect his thoughts. His head was pounding and he had to take a couple of deep breaths before he could concentrate. Check pulse, he thought. There was one. It was rapid, but strong. He handcuffed his partner and pulled him into his office. Leaning against the desk, he held his hand up to his head. He was bleeding. It really hurt. Fraser would have a cure, he reflected glumly. Then he sighed and straightened up, ignoring his body's protests. It was his turn to take care of the Mountie and he was determined to do it right. Picking up the phone he dialed a number.

"Jack? Ray Kowalski. I need a favor, pronto."

An hour later, Dr. Jack Leighton looked up at Ray. "You know, most people use their heads to think."

"Yeah, well that didn't seem ta be working," the blond said giving him a wry smile. He was again leaning on the desk. "Decided I'd find something it was good for," Ray continued. He looked back down at his partner, laying asleep on the cot. "So - I'm thinkin' maybe meth?"

"It certainly looks like an methamphetamine reaction. Pretty drastic reaction for someone who's not abusing it, though."

"Fraser's so clean, he squeaks. Man won't even take aspirin most of the time."

"I suppose he could be hyper-sensitive."

"There was a plate of brownies in the kitchen. That's the only thing I can find that looks possible. I saved some for you, if you need 'em. Dumped the rest."

"Good. I got a blood sample. I'll get the lab to put a priority on the analysis."

"Thanks."

"He should really be in a hospital."

"No. No way. Hospitals have records. Records follow ya. I'm not doin' that to him. S'not his fault he ate spiked brownies. The Ice ... his boss ... she'd nail him good for that one."

"You're not in such great shape either. What are you going to do if it's not meth? You said he mentioned other people, as though he were hallucinating? You can do that on methamphetamines, but not exclusively. What if he has another reaction?"

"I'll manage." The tone Ray used brooked no argument. Leighton sighed.

"All right. I'll give you something. If, and only if, he starts to get agitated again, give him one. And page me, immediately!"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"Uh huh -wait till you see my bill."

"Bill. Oh that's funny. Har de har har." Ray smiled. He knew Leighton would never bill him and would never talk about this incident. Two years previously, Leighton's ex-wife, a very troubled woman, had kidnapped their only child, Lisa. Ray had found them and convinced the woman to give up the child peacefully and seek help. Kowalski had never called on him for a favor before, but they had kept in touch, with Ray receiving a picture of his "niece" every school year and Lisa requiring his presence at her birthday parties.

"Now, let me take a look at you."

"I'm good," Kowalski protested automatically.

"You go out looking like that you're going to scare the horses."

"So, I'll avoid the park. We'll be fine."

"I'm serious, Ray. You want to take care of your friend; I need to know that you're fit to do that."

"Fine, whatever." Ray gave in, less than graciously.

"You going to watch him here?"

"No. Don't want his boss finding him. Figured I'd take him back ta my place."

"I'll help you."

"Thanks, Jack." Ray flashed him a quick smile. "I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, I know. Just make sure you're at Lisa's birthday party next month."

"Wouldn't miss it. Got her present already picked out."

"How much noise does it make?" Jack asked warily.

"You'll see," Ray grinned.

Fraser opened his eyes slowly. His head ached and he felt stiff and sore. He blinked a few times before the room came into focus. Ray's bedroom. He frowned to himself. He had absolutely no recollection of how he'd come to be here. Turning his head slowly, wincing at the pain the motion caused, he saw Ray, sleeping in a chair. He smiled at the sight of the blond's features, relaxed in sleep. He wondered why Ray was sleeping in the chair. Fraser started to sit up and was caught short. His hand was stuck. He turned and looked. He was handcuffed to the bedpost. Well that was certainly odd, he reflected. He looked back at Ray. Now that he was more alert, he could see a dark shadow on Ray's jaw, that was not caused by the light. He appeared to have a bandage on his forehead as well. Fraser frowned, trying to remember what had happened. Nothing came to mind. He lifted the covers and looked down at his body. He was clothed, except for his shoes. He brought his free hand up and ran it over his head, wincing as he encountered a large and very sore lump on his forehead. So, apparently he had also been involved in the melee, whatever it was. He concentrated, but all he could remember from the evening before was a jumble of images, none of which made any sense. He thought back to the last thing he could remember clearly. He had been working at the Consulate, trying to finish reviewing a pile of reports. He thought he had gone to the kitchen to make some tea. After that, things got a little, well, actually, quite a lot confused. And all this concentrating was making him aware that he had a very bad headache.

Ray stirred and muttered. Fraser turned back to look at his partner. With his eyes still closed, Ray twisted his head, stretching his neck. Yawning widely and silently, he ran his hand through his hair and then opened his eyes. Seeing Fraser looking back at him, he tensed.

"Good morning," Fraser offered.

"Mornin,'" Ray replied cautiously. Silence.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?" Fraser held up the cuffed hand and looked at the blond, eyebrow raised. "How're ya feelin'?" Ray asked, ignoring the unspoken question.

"Sore," Fraser admitted. "And I have a headache." Ray nodded.

"I'll get you some water and aspirin," he said getting up. His posture, the Mountie noted, was guarded and his movement slow. Fraser walked him walk across the room with concern. There was none of the fluidity he had come to expect from his partner. When Ray returned, he was holding a plastic cup and a bottle containing analgesics. He handed Fraser the cup of water and shook two pills out of the bottle. Then Ray took back the water and gave him the pills. Fraser briefly hesitated and then reached out to take them, noticing as he did so, that the knuckles on his hand were battered. He put the aspirin in his mouth and Kowalski gave him back the water. Drinking the water, Fraser watched his partner, who in turn was watching him, warily.

"Ray? What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Not really. Things are ..."

"Fuzzy?"

"Ahh ... yes." Fraser said, deciding "fuzzy" was as good a work as any other. Ray nodded.

"I think you were drugged."

"What?!"

"Drugged. You were kinda ... out o' control.

"Oh, dear." Fraser pondered that idea with alarm. "Who knows about this?" he asked, suddenly horrified at the thought of Inspector Thatcher's reaction.

"You and me. Dief. A doctor friend of mine. I didn't figure you'd want the Ice Queen to find out, so I tried to handle it myself."

"Thank you," Fraser said fervently.

"Welcome," Ray was relaxing some.

"And the handcuffs?"

"Yer a lot stronger than me," Ray said simply. Then, grinning, "Seemed prudent."

"Understood," Fraser said. He thought for a moment. "Ray?" he asked, suddenly concerned. "Did I?" He broke off and looked down at his damaged knuckles, then back up at the bruising on his partner's face. "Did I hurt you?" he finally asked.

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'm fine."

"Ray, I am so sorry," Fraser started.

"Forget it." Ray waved his words off, getting up and heading to the bedroom door. "I'm gonna make some coffee. Think we could both use it." Fraser watched him go, confused and worried. He wanted to know more. What exactly had he done? And how badly had he hurt his partner? The fact that Ray had thought it necessary to handcuff him, was quite alarming. Then there was the way the blond was moving. Fraser decided he needed to talk to Ray, now; immediately. He reached carefully into his pocket, wincing as his scraped knuckles rubbed against the denim material, and pulled out a handcuff key. Ever since the Henry Allen incident, Fraser made sure that he always carried a key. He didn't like remembering how close he had come to losing Ray just for lack of that simple item. He still had nightmares surrounding that scenario. He'd awaken, crying out Ray's name, still feeling the weight of the lifeless body in his hands, preparing to drown with him. Unlocking the cuffs, he cautiously stood up and stretched. He really was sore, he noted. All over. He went into the living room, and saw Ray, in the kitchen, washing something in the sink. He approached. "Ray?" he asked. The blond whirled around, clutching the glass he'd been washing. It shattered in his hand. What Fraser noticed first, however, was the look of fear in his partner's eyes. "Ray?" Fraser repeated in an alarmed tone. He forced himself to wait, not to rush over. The smaller man watched him for a minute, then relaxed, letting out a breath. "Sorry, ya startled me." he said.

"Ray, your hand," Fraser said, seeing the blood dripping down. The blond looked down and winced. "Let me look at that," Fraser said, cautiously moving forward.

"I'm good," Ray said, opening his hand and looking at it. He started to pick glass out of it. "'Sides, I'm takin' care of you, this time."

"And you have," Fraser assured him. He gently took the other man's hand and turned him back towards the sink. Standing behind him, he reached around and began cleaning the injured hand. Ray, tense at first, slowly relaxed, leaning back, ever so slightly, against the larger frame of his partner. Fraser smiled. He was relieved to see the cuts weren't bad. Ray's hand would be sore for awhile, but it didn't look as though he would require stitches. He guided Ray to the couch, after wrapping his hand tightly in a towel.

Rummaging for supplies in the bathroom, he reflected that he was going to have to speak to his partner about his deplorable lack of first aid equipment. He finally found a tube of antibiotic cream and some bandages. Returning to the living room, he found Ray leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed. He sat down next to him. Immediately, Ray's eyes flew open. Again, Fraser saw the fear flicker in, then slowly out.

"Ray?" he asked, taking the blond's hand.

"What?"

"What exactly happened last night?"

"Told you."

"I'd like more details."

"Why? Outcome's the same."

"You're ... afraid of me."

"Nah, I'm just tired. Makes me kind of jumpy," he wasn't looking at the Mountie. Fraser frowned, but let it go for the moment, dressing the blond's hand and bandaging it.

"Coffee's ready," Kowalski told him, when he was finished.

"I'll get it," Fraser offered.

"Hey, you're my guest. 'Sides, you don't know which mugs are clean," Ray grinned.

"You have clean mugs?" Fraser raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Har de har har," Ray shot back.

"Well, then, I guess that I should let you go find these mythical mugs." Ray laughed and started to get up. The Mountie watched him closely. The blond was definitely having difficulty moving, though he tried to disguise it.

"Ray?"

"Don't," the smaller man said in a warning tone. Fraser shook his head and grabbed his partner by the arm, holding him in place. Then he pulled up Ray's shirt ... and gasped in shock and horror.

"Why'd ya have ta go and do that?" Ray asked, yanking his shirt back down.

"Ray, I ... I did ... that? To you?"

"No. The guy that did this to me was not you." Fraser wasn't even looking at him. All his mind could see were the ugly black and red marks that covered the blond's torso. "Frase, listen to me," Ray pleaded.

"I'm so sorry," the Mountie whispered, unhearing. His eyes were enormous and Ray could see the guilt written on his face.

"Damn it, Frase ... Ben! Listen to me. You ... are ... not ... responsible. Whoever the Hell drugged those brownies did this. Get that through your head." He was yelling at Fraser.

"You're afraid of me."

"No, I'm afraid of that guy I met last night. You are not you on drugs. If you were ever thinking of givin' it a try ... well, just don't go there. The guy I dealt with last night ... well, he looked sorta like you, but he was not you."

"I'm sorry, so sorry." Fraser was shrinking away from his partner, wracked with guilt.

"Don't do this. Do not do this!" Ray reached out and grabbed Fraser, pulling his jaw around so that the Mountie had to look at his partner's face. "I am not gonna let some drug pushin' crook break up the best friendship I ever had. Are you? Is our friendship worth so little to you, that you'll just push it aside 'cause of some criminal?" Ray was terrified. This was what he had been afraid of, why he had tried to hide his injuries. Fraser just got up and backed away, still horrified, not hearing a word the blond said. He looked down at his battered knuckles; battered from hitting a friend. Worse than that. Ray Kowalski. His partner. His friend. Ray, whom he wanted only to shelter, protect and heal. And he'd hurt him; beaten him. Betrayed him. He was too filled with self-revulsion to notice anything else.

Ray watched numbly. He'd wanted so much to take care of Fraser; give something back after all his partner had done for him, and he'd blown it. "I suck," he whispered to himself. He got up, shaking his head. All he'd had to do was cover up some lousy bruises, but he couldn't even do that right. He tried to think of something to say, do ... but the look on the Mountie's face told him everything he needed to know. Fraser wouldn't even look at him.

"Frase, I'm sorry. I screwed up. I shouldn't've let you know. I'm sorry," he pleaded, walking towards his friend.

"Don't ... get away from me." Fraser's voice was low and toneless. His face was frighteningly blank. He continued to look at his hand; to ignore Ray's pleading tones and apologies. Then, interrupting, he said, "I don't deserve your friendship, Ray." And he left, leaving the blond open mouthed and panicked in his living room.

Ray quickly collected himself and tried to follow Fraser, but the Mountie moved a lot faster than the detective, with his sore chest in the cold air, could manage. Finally, out of breath and freezing without his jacket, he temporarily conceded defeat and went back to his apartment, which was suddenly darker and lonelier than it had ever been. Kowalski collapsed on the couch, his head in his hands, fighting back the tears. The phone rang. He leapt for it.

"Hello?" hopefully.

"Hi Ray. It's Jack."

"Oh. Hi."

"Thought you'd want to know - it was speed. So you don't have to worry about flashbacks."

"That's good," Ray said, thinking his last excuse to go after the Mountie had just crumbled.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm great. Just tired, ya know?"

"And your friend?"

"Up and about," Ray replied truthfully.

"Good. Call me if you need anything, all right."

"Yeah." Ray said. Then, suddenly, "Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Uhh ... just thanks, is all. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Ray. I'm glad I was able to help. Let me know if there's anything else I can do." The blond hung up the phone and contemplated the ruins. He had wanted only to help his partner. In doing so, he had seemingly screwed up the best thing that had ever happened to him. "Life sucks," he said out loud. "I suck." He decided he would go to the Consulate. Eventually the Mountie would have to return, and the Chicago Detective would make him see reason, make Fraser understand that it was his, Ray's, fault. "If he doesn't get it, I'll kick him in the head," he promised himself, knowing that if he failed, he'd be trying to kick himself in the head.

Fraser was walking in the park. The snow made a satisfying crunching sound under his feet, but he didn't hear it. He was too caught up in his shame and anger. Diefenbaker loped along beside him. The Mountie had returned to the Consulate and found the disaster that was his office. The wolf had watched him from a distance, cautiously, before deciding that whatever strange spirit had possessed his favorite human the night before, had gone. Fraser seized on the necessity of taking Diefenbaker out for a walk as a good excuse to get away from the images that ran through his mind. Images of himself hurting Ray. His Ray. The Mountie wanted to cry. Instead, he forced himself to walk faster, trying to leave his shame behind. How could he ever face the blond again? He had let ... no encouraged, Ray to trust him; to feel safe around him and to what end? So he could brutalize him, himself.

"You think this is doing the Yank any good?" The voice of his father was a welcome distraction. Someone else Fraser could take out his anger and pain on.

"Stay out of it. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I? Someone slipped you a mickey son, and you reacted badly. Happens to the best of us from time to time."

"I hurt Ray, Dad. I beat him." Fraser stopped walking, remembering anew those terrible marks on his partner's torso. "I lost control."

"And that's what this is really about, isn't it?" his father inquired.

"What are you talking about?"

"Because if it were truly about your partner, you'd have heard what he was saying to you," Robert Fraser continued. "You'd have seen the pain you were causing him this morning was far worse than anything you did to him last night."

"What?" Benton was dumfounded.

"You need to go back and talk to the Yank, son. You're being too hard on yourself ... and consequently, harder on him." His father's voice was gentle. "You lost control. It wasn't your fault ... well, maybe the second brownie was overkill, but that's not important right now. Swallow the pride, son. Remember? Swallow the pride and go find the Yank. You need him as much as he needs you."

Eight hours later, Ray was forced to admit defeat. There was no sign of the Mountie at the Consulate. Fraser'd had the locks fixed since Ray had demonstrated ease of entry with his credit card, and try as he might, the blond had been unable to find a way in. Had he been able to gain entry, Ray would have waited however long it took. But the rapidly dropping temperature finally drove him home, in search of some warmer clothes. He satisfied himself by leaving a note on the door. "Fraser, call me. Please." He hoped the "Please" would get him results if his partner returned before he got back.

Back at his apartment, Ray dragged himself up his stairs. Wearily, he reflected that this might have been his worst day since ... well since the Mountie had stopped him from offing himself. All he really wanted to do was collapse on his couch and drink himself into oblivion. He hadn't felt the need to do that in a long time. He supposed it was better than eating his gun, though. He gave a wry smile. He'd been feeling pretty good about things lately, including himself. And that had been his mistake, Ray knew. He didn't deserve those feelings. After all the Mountie had done for him, he'd been unable to do this one simple thing in return. No matter how many times Fraser tried to compliment him, encourage him and build him up, the fact remained, he was still Ray Kowalski, major screw up. He paused outside his apartment for a moment gathering his thoughts. He would get a warmer jacket and his sleeping bag and return to the Consulate. Treat it like a solo stakeout. He had until Monday morning to make this right, one way or another. Vecchio's cover had to be maintained. He would just have to make Fraser see that he was going that have to put up with the replacement to protect the original. And then maybe he could figure out some way to show the Mountie that it wasn't his fault. "All I had to do was cover up a few lousy bruises," he muttered to himself bitterly, opening the door. "Something any idiot could do. Any idiot but me."

"You're not an idiot, Ray." Kowalski stopped in the doorway.

"Fraser?"

"Hello, Ray."

"What ... what are you doin' here?"

"Waiting for you."

"How'd ya get in?"

"Your landlady took pity on me." Ray waited. "I needed to talk to you," Fraser continued. "I didn't know where you'd gone."

"I been at the Consulate."

"Ah." They regarded each other. "You're shivering."

"Ya changed the locks."

"So I did." More silence. "Are you going to come in, Ray?"

"Right." The blond stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him. The two men looked at each other. Ray was terrified that he'd say the wrong thing. He couldn't read the Mountie's expression. He looked down at his feet, hoping for inspiration.

"Ray?" He jumped, startled. He hadn't noticed Fraser crossing the room. "Are you all right?"

"I'm good," he answered automatically.

"Some new definition of good, I'm not aware of?" Fraser asked gently.

"Huh?"

"Your lips are blue, Ray."

"Stella always said I looked good in blue." Ray gave the Mountie a faint flash of his cockiest grin. He knew he needed to say something else, to convince Fraser that everything was his own damn fault, but he didn't know where to start. The Mountie was smiling, though. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

"Ray, I want to apologize ..."

"NO! Damn it, I told you already. Ya got nothin' to apologize for!" the blond was instantly angry, pushing the Canadian away.

"Ray ..."

"Stop it! I don't wanna hear it." Ray had his hands up over his ears. Fraser reached up and pulled them down by the wrists.

"Ray, please." The blond had closed his eyes, an expression of pain flitting across his face. "Ray, I didn't hear you earlier. I wasn't listening. That's what I want to apologize for. I was so caught up in my own ... distress ... that I couldn't hear you." The smaller man's eyes were open now, and Fraser had to force himself not to flinch at the expression of vulnerability in his partner's face. The Mountie let go of the blond's wrists, moving up to hold his shoulders. "I was just so upset that I'd hurt you ...

"Not you! I keep tellin' you. Why won't you believe me?!"

"Ray, it was my hands that hurt you. That was all I could see. All I could think about. I wasn't listening to what you were saying. I'm sorry, that I didn't realize I was hurting you even more." He cupped Ray's chin in his hand. "I am sorry Ray. I wanted so much never to hurt you."

"I know that. You don't like to hurt anyone."

"But especially you Ray. I especially didn't want to hurt you."

"Then don't let this come between us, Frase. 'Cause that would hurt me worse than anything else you could do to me, much worse than a couple o' stupid bruises." The blond was pleading, his tone desperate. Fraser heard it and nodded. Ray continued. "I just ... I really wanted ta do something for you for a change, ya know? Yer always takin' care of me. If I'd done it right ..."

"Shhh. You did fine, Ray. I still have my job and I still have my friend." He smiled. "In Chicago parlance, I believe, I am good." That earned him a tentative smile from the blond.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." They were silent for a moment. Fraser dropped his hand back to the smaller man's shoulder.

"Frase ..."

"Yes, Ray?"

"Uhh ... never mind."

"No. I'm here and I'm listening, Ray. Tell me."

"Yesterday, when you were ... drugged ...." He stopped.

"Yes?" Fraser encouraged. Ray pondered for a moment, wishing he hadn't brought it up, but needing to know.

"You were yellin' stuff."

"What kind of 'stuff'?"

"About how everyone was just watching and waitin' for you ta fail. How it was really hard to maintain. Ya thought there were a lot of other people in the room too, but it was me you were yellin' at. Do you really think that? That I'm waitin' for you ta fail? That ya have to pretend to be somethin' yer not?" Ray's voice was gentle, curious, not judgmental. Fraser's hand went up to his forehead; unconsciously rubbing his thumbnail against his eyebrow. "Frase?" Ray encouraged an answer.

"There is some truth in that," the Mountie finally admitted.

"Why do you believe that?"

"All my life I have behaved ... in a certain manner. Partially because it is how I was raised. And partially because it is how I believed a good man and an officer of the law should behave. But at times ... it becomes ... wearing. To always have to be the voice of reason. To always argue the side of right and justice, when I want nothing more than to ... kick someone in the head," he said with a small smile. Ray laughed. Fraser continued. "But there are times when it feels as though I am the only voice of reason and that everyone is watching me, hoping to see me fail. And that makes it both even more important that I maintain, and more exhausting at the same time."

"I get you. But, Ben?" He purposely used his partner's first name. "Ya don't have to do that with me. I know you're a good guy. I know that. So, ya get a little frustrated from time ta time ... just means yer human. Ya wanna blow off steam, I'm not gonna think any less of you. You lose your temper in front o' me sometime, it's okay. Might find it a little strange comin' from you, but no stranger than lickin' a light socket, ya know? I'm your partner and friend. Not SuperMountie's. Yours. Understand?" He held the Mountie's gaze. Looking into the pale blue eyes, Fraser could see the gift his partner was giving him. He didn't have to pretend in front of the blond. It wouldn't change anything about the way he felt or chase him away. But something still troubled him.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Your father beat you ... and yet you stand by him. Now, I hurt you ...."

"And ya think maybe I get off on the pain?"

"I just ... worry."

"S'okay." Ray was quiet for a moment, thinking. He was afraid if he said the wrong thing, Fraser would leave again. But if he wasn't completely honest, Fraser might also leave. Finally, "I stand by my Dad 'cause he's my Dad. Kind of gives him an edge up on the whole forgiveness thing. It's not like I've forgotten it. I mean, part of it's still blocked out. But I remember the fear, Frase. And I don't like it. But I also remember all the good stuff he tried to do for me later." Fraser nodded.

"But I'm not your parent, Ray."

" I told you earlier, I don't see it as you hittin' me. You were somebody else on drugs, Frase. Kind o' like my Dad when he was drinking. For the record, I didn't have a good time yesterday. You're bigger than me and ya hit hard. But I wasn't thinking, Fraser's hittin' me. I was thinking what the Hell happened to Fraser." Ray reached out, putting his hand on his partner's arm before he continued. "You've never been anything but a good friend ta me, before, Ben. I got no reason to think you'll be anything else in the future. So it's okay. Make sense?"

"Understood," Fraser said softly.

"So we're still ...?"

"I think."

"Good."

"Yes." They stayed where they were, both men reluctant to break the mood. As the emotions calmed, Ray suddenly realized he was still cold, starting to shiver again. Fraser responded by pulling him into a warm hug. Ray leaned into the Mountie's body, grateful for the warmth and more importantly, the resumed friendship implied within that hug. He allowed himself to be led to the couch and seated, wrapped in a blanket and in Fraser's arms. Eventually, the shivering subsided and he began to be aware of other complaints from his body.

"Ya hungry?" Ray asked hopefully.

"I could eat," the Mountie allowed. "Your refrigerator is in deplorable state."

"You went through my refrigerator?"

"Well, I had thought to try and prepare dinner. Now I find myself deeply concerned about your health."

"Har de har, har. Next you'll be insulting my clean mugs."

"If you recall, Ray, you never produced those mugs. I'm still a bit dubious as to their existence."

"Oh, they exist," the blond chuckled. "Just for that, yer gonna have ta drink something from them."

"With dinner," the Mountie prodded.

"Pizza?"

"With a side salad," Fraser said firmly.

"Ya know, I saw your refrigerator yesterday. And there wasn't any green stuff in it."

"I know. I'd eaten it. I need to go to the market."

"Oh, yeah. Mr. Health Food. Explain how ya consumed the brownies, then." Ray teased. Fraser blushed. Ray chuckled. "Ya know, as a cop, I seen a lot o' people act guilty about a lot o' things, but you're the first guy I ever knew, who acted guilty about eatin' what he thought was a perfectly normal brownie." Fraser turned even redder. "What? Is chocolate like some major sin for Mounties? You didn't know!?"

"No, of course not! ... it's just that ..." Fraser sighed, remembering.

"What?"

"When I ate them ... I recall thinking that as you would never know I had consumed them, I would still be providing a good healthy example for you. I guess I was trying to ..."

"Behave a certain way?"

"Well, yes," the Mountie admitted, rubbing his eyebrow again.

"Oh, that worked good." Ray started laughing. He laughed until tears ran down his face. His ribs complained, but he just tucked his arms around them tightly and continued laughing. After a moment, Fraser had joined in. Occasional comments surfaced amidst the hysteria.

"SuperMountie done in by a brownie - who'd o' guessed chocolate was kryptonite?"

"I guess it shows, you really can't have your cake and eat it too."

"So d'ya think the Ice Queen'd be more upset if she knew ya ate a brownie or you took speed?"

"Two brownies, Ray. I had two," guiltily.

"Oh yeah, yer goin' straight ta Mountie Hell for that one." When the laughter subsided, both men just sat back, exhausted on the couch, still occasionally giggling. Fraser leaned over and gently ran his hand over the bruise on Ray's jaw. The blond stopped laughing and watched him warily, but Fraser said nothing, just moved his hand up to the bandage on his partner's forehead.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd let me change that. The tape's coming loose," he said, quietly.

"Yer still tryin' to take care of me."

"Always, Ray. That's what partners do."

"And friends."

"And friends," agreed the Mountie.

"As a friend, I'll let ya."

"Thank you, kindly." At that moment Diefenbaker appeared beside them. Ray, startled, yelped and leapt off the couch.

"Diefenbaker, where are your manners?" Fraser scolded.

"Where'd he come from?"

"I went back to the Consulate and got him."

"When were you at the Consulate?!"

"Before you apparently. We've been here most of the day, waiting for you." Dief barked demandingly. "Oh dear."

"What?!"

"He saw us discussing pizza."

"Tell him if he's not nice, he gets the salad," Ray threatened, moving over to the phone.

After dinner, they sat on the couch, watching a movie. Ray had flipped channels until he found something with snow, much to the Mountie's amusement. The blond relaxed back into the couch as the movie progressed and the Mountie tried to follow his example. Then Ray slumped sideways. Alarmed, Fraser grabbed him.

"What!?" Ray leapt back, blinking and panicked.

"Sorry, I thought ... I didn't realize you were asleep."

"So ya attacked me?"

"Not attacked, Ray. Reached for ... reached for ... in a concerned manner." Fraser corrected.

"Oh. So long as it was in a concerned manner."

"Absolutely," Fraser assured him.

"Okay, then." Ray sat back again and relaxed, eventually starting to drift off again. Fraser gently pulled him into his arms. Ray allowed himself to be maneuvered until he was leaning against the Mountie's chest, where he lay contentedly. Things were right in his world again. He wasn't sure he could put into words what Fraser's friendship meant to him. Perhaps "everything" might begin to cover it. But it wouldn't be enough. Not by a long shot. Ray knew he'd have done whatever was necessary to get the Mountie back. If it had meant returning to the Consulate and waiting outside until Hell froze over, he'd've done it. His body gave a reflexive shiver at the memory of how cold he'd felt. Fraser's arms tightened protectively around him. Ray smiled drowsily and then fell asleep.

Fraser breathed a small sigh of relief as the smaller man's breathing deepened into a slight snore. If Ray was comfortable enough with him to fall asleep in his arms, then things would be all right. They'd get through this. He brought his hand up, running it gently through the blond hair, avoiding the area with the bandage. He frowned at the edges of the bruise that appeared around the white, thinking of the cut under the bandage. Although Ray had pointed out that it was technically self inflicted, Fraser still felt badly about it and all the rest of the injuries the blond had suffered. For Ray's sake though, he would force himself past those feelings. He would do anything to protect the blond and as strange as it seemed to him, this apparently fell under that category. Tilting his head forward, he let it rest against the blond one and then, before he could think about it and stop himself, he kissed Ray, gently, on top of his head. Ray stirred. The Mountie froze. What had he just done? Why? The smaller man muttered something in a drowsy tone and relaxed again. Fraser waited for the wave of guilt. None came. Being in Ray's apartment, holding him, even the kiss. It all felt ... right. He smiled contentedly, briefly fighting sleep to savor the moment, and then allowing himself to drift off.

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