He knew he was dreaming and usually that was enough to take the edge off it, but this time it didn't make any difference.
The courtroom was packed with accusing Vecchios. He could see at least five Francescas gesturing angrily at him, and there was a Mrs Vecchio in every direction he looked. There were people from the 27th Precinct as well, but they mostly avoided him. He turned, searching for the one man he wanted to see. Ray was in the dock wearing prison blues and handcuffed to two guards who were almost twice his size. A loud disembodied voice called the court to order, but there was no diminution in the noise level. The judge materialised out of thin air into his chair. He was banging an outsized gavel with one hand and holding up a noose in the other.
"Raymond Vecchio, hanging's too good for a bent cop. You're sentenced to a thousand years in prison, with no possibility of parole. Next!"
He leapt up, trying to protest, but it was too late, the guards were already dragging Ray away. The Francescas all turned to him and started chanting... "It's all your fault... it's all your fault..."
Fraser woke, his heart racing. But the nightmare hadn't gone away. This morning Ray had been sent to prison for stealing drugs from the evidence room. Because of him. It was his evidence that had gotten Ray arrested. Ray had pleaded guilty, for a reduced sentence, and with luck he'd be out in six months. If it hadn't been for that, Fraser would have had to testify against his best friend in court.
*
Lt Welsh looked up from the file he was reading when Fraser knocked hesitantly on the door. The Mountie was in his red serge, his Stetson clutched in his hands, looking as though he hadn't slept much lately.
Welsh sighed. "Come in Fraser, what can I do for you?"
"Thank you, sir. I just... I wasn't..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Sir, I can't help feeling that we should have talked to Ray first. There might have been an explanation..."
"You know there wasn't, or you wouldn't have come to me in the first place. Ray's guilty, he's admitted it. You did the right thing." Welsh felt a little guilty himself at cutting the Mountie off, but he really didn't want to talk about this.
"Sir, I'd like to be able to visit him."
"No. Go home Fraser. Forget about him, he's finished with the force and he's not going to want to see you." Welsh was regretting having allowed this conversation to start.
"I can't do that, sir. I made that mistake once before. I won't do it again."
Observing the determination on Fraser's face, Welsh sighed again. He knew what the Mountie was referring to. He'd nearly been killed by his best friend. Ray. Who he had just sent to jail. But Lt Welsh hadn't been in charge of this division for eight years without learning a lot about dealing with staff. And even if Fraser wasn't technically one of his men, still he knew enough about the Mountie to realise that it would be hopeless to try to stop him. With any luck Ray would refuse to see him.
"I'll see what I can arrange..."
"Thank you kindly, sir."
He watched the Mountie walk through the room, looking straight a head. Around him people who had known him since he arrived in Chicago found reasons to be somewhere else as he passed. Nobody liked a bent cop, but none of them could understand how Fraser could have turned Ray in. If the truth be told, he couldn't understand it either.
*
The visitor's waiting room was teeming with children of all ages, from squalling infants to mutinous looking teenagers. Nearly every adult in the room was female and Fraser stood out like a sore thumb. He didn't mind at all, in fact he hardly noticed as he swapped information on Inuit treatments for childhood complaints and cheap and easy recipes with the inmate's wives and girlfriends. A guard came in and called his name. As he went out, he could be heard enquiring after Roscoe's eldest son and his new job.
As he neared the visiting room, Fraser fell silent. Roscoe glanced at him. "You know Mr Fraser, he's lucky to have a friend like you."
Fraser looked away. "He deserves better."
Roscoe took one look at his face and let the subject drop. He opened the door and ushered Fraser inside, pointing to the vacant seat. Fraser went over and sat down, a moment later Ray was brought in through the door at the far end of the room. As he always did, Fraser took the opportunity to have a really good look at the man he still considered his friend. There was a hard edge to Ray now that worried him. Ray sat in the chair opposite him and leaned his arms on the edge of the bench and just stared at him. As usual, he made no move to pick up the handset. Fraser waited. In all the months he had been visiting Ray, they had never spoken. He accepted this as the condition of his visit, afraid that if he tried to speak Ray would refuse to see him next time.
This was going to be his last visit. In just over a week Ray would be facing a parole board and would almost certainly be released and Fraser doubted that Ray would be willing to see him again once he was free. After five minutes, in desperation, he leaned forward, touching his fingertips to the perspex barrier between them. Ray flinched back, then got up and walked away. He went through the door without looking back.
*
Fraser stood in front of the door for several minutes before he could work up the courage to knock. He had been determined to stand by Ray, but he had not been able to face Ray's mother... now, he thought, it was his only hope of maintaining contact with Ray. It was that thought, finally, which made it possible to knock.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened. Mrs Vecchio seemed to have aged far more than six months, something else that he felt responsible for. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Benton, what are you doing here?"
He stammered an apology, barely understandable even to himself. Mrs Vecchio took hold of his arm and drew him through the doorway.
"Come in, caro. Come and sit." Her kindness unnerved him totally. She led him to the lounge and sat him on the couch, then disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a pot of tea. "I was just making this when you arrived, would you like some?"
Drinking the tea gave him time to get himself under control, while Mrs Vecchio fussed around him.
"I didn't come to visit you because I thought you wouldn't want to see me, Mrs Vecchio." he said at last. "I thought you'd hate me..."
She smiled at him sadly. "You did what you had to do. Ray did a very bad thing. You had no choice."
"There's always a choice. I wish I could be sure that I made the right one."
Mrs Vecchio didn't argue. He thought that she had just been trying to be kind. Then she sighed. "So why have you come here now, Benton?"
"I heard that Ray's going to be released in two days, Mrs Vecchio..." She nodded confirmation. "...I don't think he'll want to see me. I was hoping that you might talk to him, maybe he'll listen to you."
"I don't know, Benton, I haven't seen my son in six months. I don't know how prison has changed him. I must put his needs before yours." She noticed his look of surprise. "What is it, caro?"
You haven't visited Ray at all?"
"He asked us all not to come to the prison. He said it would make it more difficult for him. Why?"
"I've been visiting him. He comes out to see me, but he won't speak to me."
"Dio mio, why would he do a thing like that?"
Fraser had to struggle to keep his voice steady. "I think it's his way of punishing me. I don't mind. But once he's out of prison, there'll be no reason for him to see me. I want to find a way to put things right between us."
"Do you really think that you can do that, caro?"
"I don't know. I only know that I have to try."
"I can't promise anything, Benton. But I will try. I'll talk to Ray when I think the time is right."
It was as much as he could hope for. He thanked her and left, trying not to see the relief in her eyes when she shut the door on him.
*
It was over two weeks since Ray had been released and Fraser still hadn't heard from Mrs Vecchio. He decided to go to see her.
Walking up the footpath, he tried to prepare himself for any eventuality. He half expected Ray to answer the door, but it was Mrs Vecchio, looking more worn than ever. She made shooing motions at him to go away.
"Who is it Ma?" Ray was coming down the stairs. When he saw Fraser he stopped dead in his tracks. There was a tense silence, then he turned and started back up.
"RAY!"
It made no difference. Ray disappeared up the stairs.
*
He tried to put it aside, to get on with his life, only to discover that most of his life in Chicago had died when Ray went into prison. Fraser decided he wasn't quite ready to give up yet. He had started waking in the night, gripped by a feeling that Ray needed him, but he couldn't just go to see him without some excuse. Then he heard that Ray was involved with Frank Zuko.
At first Fraser couldn't believe it. Ray and Zuko hated each other. He walked around the streets, listening to the talk there. Zuko was trying to expand his business into drug dealing. Had been for months, unsuccessfully. It all made a terrible sense that he didn't want to believe. That night when he woke, he walked around to Ray's house, Dief trotting at his side.
It was three am. The whole house was in darkness except for one room. Ray's. There was a tree on the edge of the property. He climbed it and watched Ray sitting alone, drinking steadily, for over two hours. Finally, he left. There was nothing he could do.
But when he woke again the following night, he went.
*
It went on for weeks, some nights he would get only a couple of hours sleep. His work was being affected, but he couldn't stop himself. He was obsessed with the belief that Ray needed him somehow, that something would happen and that he had to be there.
Then, one night, something did happen. He'd only just arrived when the front door opened and Ray came out. Fraser could smell the alcohol on him as he got nearer, but he didn't appear to be drunk. Ray stopped a few feet away from him.
"What is it with you? Isn't it enough that you sent me to prison? Zuko knows you're coming around here, are you trying to get me killed?" Ray was shouting by the end. Fraser stepped forward, wanting to calm him. He didn't see Ray's fist, coming out of nowhere and connecting painfully with his cheekbone. He fell, dazed for a moment.
Ray stared down at Fraser, lying on the ground. He hadn't meant to hit him that hard, hadn't really meant to hit him at all. He took a step toward the prone figure, but Dief was there, baring his fangs. He backed away, suddenly very sober. Fraser just lay there looking up at him, hurt disbelief all over his face. Suddenly, Ray just wanted to get out of there very badly.
"Just stay out of my life. Leave me the hell alone!" Ray fled back to the house, the safety of his room, the whiskey bottle.
*
"Sir?"
Meg Thatcher looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of Fraser's bruised face. Considering the expression on his face, she decided not to ask. "What do you want, Fraser?"
He stared down at her desk. "I'd like to request a transfer, sir."
Damn. "Anywhere in particular, constable?"
"I'd prefer to go back to the Territories, but I'll go anywhere there's a vacancy."
"I'll think about it. Dismissed."
"Sir?" He hadn't budged. He was going to be difficult about this, and she had no real grounds for denying his request.
"Fraser, you're the best officer I've got. I don't want to lose you. If you still feel the same way in a fortnight, I'll approve your transfer. Dismissed!"
After he left, she swore under her breath. It was only because he was such a good officer, she told herself. Once it might have been more, but since that obnoxious cop went to prison, Fraser had changed. Whatever had been between them then had died. She could hate Ray Vecchio for what he'd done.
*
Two weeks to the day, Fraser was back in her office. She approved the transfer papers he'd typed without saying a word. He thanked her and went home to start packing, even though the actual transfer might take weeks to arrange. Dief watched him mournfully.
"It's time we left. City life doesn't agree with me, and you're getting soft."
"Grrmmmmhh."
"You'll adjust. You're a wolf, for God's sake. You're supposed to live in the wild."
"Hhhhmmmmmhhh."
"It's none of your business, and anyway, I'd really rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."
"........."
"Well, I don't want your opinion."
*
Fraser was still waiting for his transfer to come through when, walking to work, he saw a newspaper headline - "Drugs Bust!". He bought the paper, his heart pounding. There wasn't a lot of detail, but it was enough to send him running to the 27th Precinct.
He hadn't been there since just after Ray was convicted, but he had to know if Ray had been arrested again. He headed straight for Lt Welsh's office. Welsh wasn't there. Huey came over and grinned at him.
"Congratulations, Fraser! You guys did a great job. We should have known that Ray wouldn't steal those drugs."
"Oh! You never guessed? ...that it was a set up, I mean?"
"No. We should have though. You'd never turn in Ray, no matter what he did."
"Where is Ray?"
"In debriefing still, he'll be there for hours, is my guess."
"Well, I'd better get to work..."
"Sure. See you later?"
Fraser was already gone.
When he arrived at the Consulate, Meg was walking through the reception area, a file in her hand.
"Fraser! Your transfer's just arrived."
"Oh."
Her eyes narrowed. "You don't seem very pleased."
He couldn't speak, so he held out the paper to her. She read the front page article, her lips tightening.
"So he's going to jail again? You can't help him, Fraser. And God knows why you'd want to, now."
"No! It was a set up. Ray's been working undercover."
"Did you know that, when you turned him in?"
"No, but..." Fraser's voice trailed off. Surely Ray would forgive him, if it had all been a set up? Even if he hadn't known?
"I'll hold these for a couple of days, pretend they got delayed in the mail. Let me know what you decide. And Fraser... take some leave, will you?"
*
Fraser went home to the apartment. Almost everything except what he needed for day to day living was packed in cartons along the wall. He started to unpack. He couldn't leave now. Maybe Ray hadn't really been angry with him... might have been trying to protect him...
In spite of his doubts he continued to unpack. While there was any hope of healing his friendship with Ray, he couldn't leave.
*
Twenty four hours later, there had been no sign of Ray. Fraser couldn't bear to wait any longer, he went to the Vecchio house.
Arriving there, he couldn't help remembering the last few times he'd walked up this path. Suddenly he wasn't feeling so hopeful any more. When he knocked, Mrs Vecchio opened the door and just about fell into his arms, sobbing.
"Oh, Benton! I thought it would all be better, after the news yesterday, but he's drinking more than ever... I just don't know what's wrong with him!"
"Would you like me to speak with Ray, Mrs Vecchio?"
"Oh, please! He won't tell me anything."
It took every ounce of determination he had to walk up the stairs and knock on the door. There was no answer. He opened the door and went in anyway.
*
Ray was sitting in an armchair by the window. A half empty whiskey bottle was sitting on the sill, with a glass beside it. He was still wearing his pyjamas even though it was nearly mid-day.
"Whadda ya want now, Ma?" His voice was only slightly slurred, but he reeked of alcohol.
"Ray..."
Ray almost leapt out of his chair as he turned. He was unshaven, his eyes were bloodshot. He looked a real mess. "Get out Frasier, I've got nothing to say to you."
"Well perhaps you could listen then. Because I have some things I'd like to say to you."
Ray turned back to the window and Fraser chose to interpret this as acquiescence.
"I wanted to apologise, to ask your forgiveness for betraying you. Even if it was part of a set up, I didn't know that at the time. And you're my closest friend."
"You only did what any cop should have done." Ray's voice was weary.
"A cop, perhaps, but it wasn't what a friend should have done. I should have come to you first. I should have trusted you."
"You know what really happened, Frasier? You weren't meant to be the one that found out about the drugs. When you went to Welsh, he was afraid you'd blow it, so he railroaded you into giving evidence. You didn't really betray me, did you? You weren't trying to turn me in, just get his advice."
"Well yes, but... did you know that, while you were in prison?"
"Sure."
"Then, why did you behave the way you did? Refusing to talk to me? I thought it was some kind of punishment" Ray could hear the pain in Fraser's voice. He stared out the window.
"I couldn't talk to you. If I'd tried to say even one word, it would all have come out. I didn't handle prison very well."
"Then you don't hate me?" Fraser was starting to sound hopeful.
"No."
"... and we're still friends?"
"No."
There was a long silence. Neither of them could speak. Then Ray heard Fraser shift slightly.
"Ray..."
He'd never heard such pain or such longing crammed into one short syllable. He swallowed with difficulty. "Look, Frasier, it's all different now... I've changed, prison can do that. It wouldn't be the same. And I'd want it to be the same. It just wouldn't work."
"You don't know that, Ray. At least try."
"I do know! You're the one who doesn't know!"
Fraser froze at the tone of Ray's voice. There was something Ray wasn't telling him, something important. "What, Ray? What don't I know?" Then, "what happened, Ray?"
Ray turned to him, his face white... "What do you think happens to cops who go to prison, Frasier?" ...and turned away again from the shocked realisation in his face. He kept talking, there was no point in stopping now...
"I thought I could handle it. I'm a cop, right? But I couldn't fight off five, six of them at a time. Not every damn night. The guards didn't care, I was just another bent cop, deserved everything I got. I figured I'd probably be dead by the end of the second week. All I could think about was getting through it so I could get in with Zuko and put him away. So I got a protector." There was a sound from behind him. "Yeah. So then it was only one guy. I guess you could call it an improvement, if you never met him... and do you know how I got through it, Frasier? This is the really good part. I pretended he was you..."
There wasn't a single thing that Fraser could think of to say. Not for this. He looked at Ray, standing with his back to him, arms wrapped around his shivering body. He went over and stood close behind Ray, not touching him. Finally he said "I just don't know what I can say or do that will help you. But I won't desert you, Ray. I'll do anything in my power... anything at all..."
It took a moment for Ray to realise what Fraser was offering. He whirled around, pushing the Mountie away. "Oh, no. Not that. Get out Frasier."
"But..."
"Just get out!" Ray pushed at him and he gave way, backing up until he was in the doorway. He stopped there, desperate not to be forced out of Ray's life again. Ray shoved him hard, yelling at him to get out. He staggered back and Ray followed, shoving him again. He didn't notice the top of the stairway.
*
Mrs Vecchio came rushing out at the sound of the fall and was stunned at the tableau before her. Fraser in a crumpled heap at the first landing and Ray, his face wild with unguessed at emotions at the top of the stairway. Then Fraser moved, lifting his head to look up at Ray, blood running down the left side of his face.
"Please... Ray!" Fraser's voice was almost unrecognisable.
"Just stay away from me." Ray turned and walked into his room. The closing of the door sounded incredibly loud in the silence.
Mrs Vecchio went to help Fraser. She cleaned the small cut on his forehead and put a Band-Aid on it. He didn't even want her to do that. And he wouldn't tell her what had happened.
*
Meg didn't look up from her writing when she heard Fraser enter her office.
"What is it now, Fraser?"
"I'd like to cancel my request for transfer, sir."
"So everything's OK?" He didn't answer and she looked up at his face. "I guess not then. You'd better be sure. If you put in another request, I'll turn it down."
"I can't leave him, sir. I'm sorry."
"I'll tear up the papers. I hope you're not making a big mistake, Fraser."
He hoped so too.
*
It was late. Outside it was raining hard, as it had been for nearly three days. Fraser had finished unpacking yesterday, now he had nothing to do but think about his conversation with Ray and wonder what he could have done to avoid the disaster he'd precipitated. And what he was going to do now to fix things.
Dief had been lying on his rug, watching him pace, but now he sat up, whined sharply and looked towards the door. "What is it, Dief?"
Dief stood and went to the door, so Fraser went over and opened the door to let him out. Ray was there, soaking wet, dripping water every where. He looked dazed. Fraser took his arm and led him into the apartment, then peeled off his overcoat. Underneath he was just as wet, he must have been out in the rain for hours.
"Ray? Talk to me Ray!" Fraser's voice cut through the haze in his head and he looked at the Mountie, rather than through him, but couldn't form a coherent thought, let alone words. Ray let himself tip forwards, into strong arms, tears mingling with the rainwater on his face.
Fraser held Ray tightly, feeling how thin he'd become. Ray's body was icy cold, but he wasn't shivering at all, and Fraser began to suspect hypothermia. He had to get Ray out of these sodden clothes, and get him warm. He picked him up easily and carried him to the small armchair beside the bed, sitting him in it and stripping off the wet clothing. Then a vigorous rub with a rough towel to dry him.
Fraser looked at the bed, it was too narrow for what he needed. He got out his bedroll and laid it on the floor. All the blankets he had were laid on top of that. It should do. He picked Ray up again and lowered him into the cocoon of blankets. "Dief!" The wolf came over and laid down against Ray's back.
The next part was going to be the most difficult. Fraser didn't know what Ray would do, but there was really no choice. He stripped and slid beneath the blankets, gathering Ray into his arms, warming him with his own body heat. There was no response from Ray at all. He simply lay there sandwiched between the two warm bodies. After a while he began to shiver as his body warmed a little.
The sky was starting to lighten when Fraser allowed himself to fall asleep. Ray was lying relaxed and asleep in his arms, the danger was over.
*
Fraser woke to the unaccustomed feel of a sleeping body in his arms, disoriented by it at first until he remembered. His fingers rested on far too prominent ribs, an equally bony hip pressed against him and he could feel the faint stirring of Ray's cock against his thigh. Just a few days ago, this would have been unimaginable, but after all that had happened it was simply a relief to know that Ray was safe. He lay still with his eyes closed. If he opened them he would have to admit he was awake, and then he would have to do something, and he simply didn't have the energy.
A moment later when Ray moved in his arms, he was glad of that decision. Let Ray take in the situation first, he didn't want to scare or anger him. He waited. Stirrings, random at first, became more deliberate. Then a shaken, indrawn breath. Ray slipped free of his arm and pushed himself up on one elbow. There was no further movement for a long time.
"Benny?" He'd thought he'd never hear Ray call him that again. His eyes flew open of their own volition, looking up into Ray's haggard face. He smiled. Ray just looked at him, his face full of confusion and pain. He was so vulnerable it was heartbreaking. Fraser reached up and touched him on the cheek and Ray tumbled into his arms, sobbing.
*
A week later, they were both at the Vecchio house dismantling Ray's bed to take it back to the apartment. Ray had been complaining all week about how uncomfortable Fraser's bed was, and since Ray slept there every night, it was the only way Fraser could get him to shut up.
It had been an incredibly eventful week. They'd decided that first day not to hide their new relationship from anyone. Fraser was still amazed that most people had accepted it relatively calmly, if not happily, but then they had all seen the changes in Ray.
It was hard to believe he was the same man. He was still too thin, of course, but a large supply of lasagna from the Vecchio kitchen was destined for the refrigerator at the apartment... that ought to help. The fact that he'd stopped drinking had meant an almost overnight improvement, and luckily he hadn't been drinking long enough to do any permanent damage. Maybe soon, Ray would feel up to going back to work. It had begun to seem as if the nightmare was over, that anything would be possible.
Later, back at the apartment, reassembling the bed, Fraser caught Ray's eye and grinned. He'd never admit that his own bed was uncomfortable, but Ray's was certainly larger... Although he suspected, hoped, that they would be sleeping in each others arms, taking up no more space than they had in the old bed. Besides... his smile faltered as he thought of the nightmares that Ray had had almost every night. He never woke, and didn't seem to remember them in the morning, but perhaps that was because they always disappeared when Fraser held him close, whispering his name.
"Benny, something wrong?" Ray was looking concerned.
"No, everything's fine... wonderful. Would you like to go for a walk, after we've finished?"
Ray smothered a laugh. This was part of Benny's health plan for him. He didn't mind. He didn't mind going anywhere as long as Benny was with him... And then he could plead tiredness, suggest an early night. How was it possible to love one man so much?
He got his way, of course. Fraser had no defenses left when it came to Ray's happiness. He lay in the middle of the bed, Ray in his arms, just listening to him breathe, stroking his back gently. In just one short week, every barrier he had put up against the pain of loss and betrayal had tumbled before Ray's desperate need of him, never openly acknowledged by either of them, but never entirely forgotten, even for a moment.
*
Welsh looked out of his door to where Vecchio was sitting at his desk. The Mountie was there and they were deep in a conversation that didn't look anything like work related, Vecchio had a silly smile on his face. Then Fraser reached over to touch his cheek. God, what next? Welsh had always prided himself on being open minded. When the two of them had made it clear what they were up to, his only concern had been how the others in the precinct would react. He'd kept his eyes open for trouble. So far there hadn't been any, but if they kept this up... Vecchio was laughing, then he noticed they were being watched.
"Sir?"
"Get in here, Vecchio."
Yes, sir!"
Oh, what the hell. "You too, Fraser. If you don't mind."
They shambled in, looking like a couple of kids caught necking behind the school bike shed. "Close the door, take a seat."
"Sir, I..."
"Shut it, Vecchio. Don't let me catch you doing that again."
"No, sir!"
"That's not why I called you in here." he paused, he wasn't too happy about this, wasn't sure that Vecchio was ready for it. But it wasn't his call. "There's been a homicide at the prison." The pair tensed immediately. "One of the people involved said he won't talk to anyone but you. One Charles William Robinson, you know him?"
Vecchio was staring at him like some small animal caught in headlights. Fraser reached over and took hold of his hand, gripping it tightly. Damn! He'd been sure it would be a mistake, he should have trusted his instincts. He made a quick decision, he'd deal with the fallout when it happened.
"I'm not asking you to go talk to him, but is there anything you can tell me about him that might help?"
"Uhhh..." Vecchio seemed to come out of his trance. "It's OK, I can do the interview. I know him, he won't get anything past me."
Welsh's "are you sure about this?" clashed with Fraser's urgent "no! Ray, don't!" They both stared at him. Vecchio smiled shakily. "Sure." And to Fraser. "It'll be good for me, Benny."
Welsh didn't feel good about this, there was too much happening between the two men, and he'd learned to trust Fraser's instincts where Vecchio was concerned. "Look, maybe you two should talk about this... whatever you decide, I'll go along with."
Waiting, he could hear a pretty heated discussion going on in his office. After ten minutes Fraser emerged looking flushed and angry. Ray went to the prison.
*
Ray walked along the hallway to the apartment feeling sick to his stomach. It hadn't been good for him to see Robinson again. It hadn't been good at all. The bottle in his overcoat pocket seemed heavier than it should be.
He went into the apartment, relieved that Benny wasn't home yet, and poured himself a couple of fingers of neat whiskey.
He'd been quite proud of the fact that when Benny arrived home three hours later he still hadn't poured himself another glass. He should have known that Benny wouldn't see it that way. It was their first real fight. They'd had arguments of course, but nothing like this, and even though he could see that it was just Benny being worried about him, he couldn't stop himself from yelling back. Now he felt sicker than ever, huddled in the armchair, listening to Benny yell at him and without the will to reply in kind.
The tirade stopped in mid-sentence and suddenly strong arms surrounded him, a wet cheek was pressed to his own and Benny was whispering endearments and apologies in his ear. He was crying too, he realised, and then Benny just picked him up and carried him to the bed where they clung to each other with the desperation of drowning men.
They were still there, still fully dressed, when they woke red eyed and unrefreshed in the morning.
"Benny, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have got that whiskey. I'll pour it down the sink, I promise... you can watch me."
"No, Ray, it was my fault. I should have trusted you."
"You were right about me going to the prison. If I'd listened to you, I never would have bought the damn whiskey." Ray watched as Benny searched for something to counter with. These Canadians had an unfair advantage when it came to apologising... maybe it was genetic. When Benny opened his mouth to speak Ray covered his lips with his own.
The kiss deepened. When Benny pulled away and sat up, they were both breathing hard.
"God... Benny..."
"I have to get ready for work, Ray."
Ray sighed.
Before they left for work, they poured the whiskey down the drain. Benny laughed and kissed him. Everything was fine again.
*
Ray woke from the nightmare with a gasp. He was alone in the bed, the whole apartment was in darkness, except for where the moonlight streamed in the windows. He'd gone to bed early and Benny had said he would read for a while. He sat up, looking around and saw Benny asleep at the table his head pillowed on one arm, the other stretched out across the table to where the lamp stood.
This wasn't the first time that it had happened, in fact it was becoming a habit, and it was starting to worry him.
*
Ray stormed out of the apartment and down the stairs to the Riv. They'd just had another fight, a bad one. He'd come this close to hitting Benny and it scared him. He'd go to his mother's - he no longer thought of it as home, that was wherever Benny was. Even in the midst of his anger he knew that... He could spend the night there, cool off, make it up to Benny in the morning. If only Benny hadn't found the bottle... he hadn't even opened it. But he would have, eventually. Benny was right about that.
Now Benny wanted him to see a shrink. Fat chance.
Next morning, his temper not improved by a night on the couch, or by his mother completely agreeing with Benny, Ray let himself quietly into the apartment. Benny was still asleep, to his surprise. It wasn't usually him who was the early riser. As he walked over to the bed, he could see that Benny was curled in the centre with Ray's pyjama top held tightly to his chest. He smiled, all his bad temper dissipated in an instant. He loved this man so much it hurt.
But when he got to where he could see Benny's face, the smile faded rapidly. He looked awful, his eyelids reddened from crying, his face too pale and drawn, dark shadows under his eyes. This hadn't happened overnight, why hadn't he noticed it before? Because all you've been thinking about is yourself, he told himself, you haven't been thinking about what all this is doing to Benny.
He sat on the edge of the bed, very carefully, but Benny woke anyway and lay there looking up at him, despair in his eyes. He reached out to touch him, but Benny flinched away.
"I love you Benny."
"I know you do. I'm so sorry, Ray..."
No! "Benny don't do this to me..."
"I've failed you... I can't give you what you need... and I can't go on with this... " Benny caught his breath on a sob and turned his head into the pillow.
Ray stared down at him, he'd never thought this could happen. He loved Benny, he knew Benny loved him, and that love was destroying both of them. He had to swallow before he could speak.
"I'll go to Ma's for a while... give us both some space, maybe that's all we need." Benny didn't answer. There wasn't any point, they both knew that a breathing space would change nothing. Ray couldn't bring himself to say goodbye, he stood and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.
*
"Sir, I think you need to talk to Ray." Huey was leaning in the doorway.
"What is it?" Lt Welsh was neck deep in files and not happy about it. Huey just indicated with his head, so Welsh heaved himself out of his chair and walked over to where he could see Vecchio. The detective was sitting in his chair staring at the desk, tears running down his cheeks apparently unnoticed. Everybody in the room was either avoiding looking at him or staring covertly.
"He's been sitting like that ever since he came in."
"See if you can get him in here without too much fuss." Welsh watched Huey walk over to Ray, bend over to speak to him, then lead him back, his hand on Ray's arm. Once in the office, Huey helped Ray to sit in one of the chairs, then got out hurriedly.
Welsh leaned against the desk, looking at Ray, wondering what the hell he was going to say to him.
"You want to tell me what's happened, Vecchio?"
Ray looked up as though he was startled by the question. "Sir?" His voice was rough.
"It's obviously something to do with the Mountie... "
Tears started flooding down Ray's cheeks again. This time he seemed to realise it and looked away.
"Talk to me, dammit, Ray!"
"It's over between us."
"I'm sorry to hear that Ray. You want to talk about it?"
He didn't want to, but somehow, he needed to. And he couldn't think of anybody better to confide in, he certainly couldn't talk to a priest about this. He wondered how on earth he could explain what had happened to anybody at all. And in the end, he found himself just blurting it out.
"Benny and I, we weren't... we didn't... We slept together, that was all. No sex. Never... ...I thought we could, sort of get into it gradually... that it would work out OK in the end. But it just kept getting worse... every time we tried..." He shuddered. "... Benny started finding excuses not to come to bed till after I was asleep, he'd wake up early and go out for a walk or something... and then we started having fights, over nothing mostly. It got so I couldn't even touch him..." He stopped, unable to speak at all and raised shaking hands to his face.
It was no wonder Ray was a mess, Welsh thought. He hadn't expected anything like this, although he wasn't surprised the Mountie had been squeamish about sex, Fraser had to be one of the straightest men he'd ever met. He only wondered what had induced the man even to try to be Ray's lover.
Ray looked up, his eyes haunted. "It's killing him... he said today that he'd failed me, couldn't give me what I needed."
"Because of the sex?" Welsh wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he needed to keep Ray talking if there was to be any hope of helping him.
"He thought that it shouldn't matter so much to him... that it was his fault, because he needed it so badly."
Welsh couldn't believe what he was hearing. Fraser couldn't handle not having sex? Which meant it was Ray who... All Welsh's preconceptions exploded... nothing about this made sense to him. But then suddenly, sickeningly, it did.
"Ray, what happened to you in prison?"
"I was raped." He said it bluntly, not caring anymore what anyone would think of him.
"I take it you didn't mention this to the Police Psychologist?"
Ray didn't bother to say anything, the answer was obvious.
*
Ray was rambling, he knew rambling when he heard it because Benny... he didn't want to think about that. A sigh interrupted his thoughts.
"Mr Vecchio, why are you here?"
"Huh?"
"Why did you come to see me?"
"Well, 'cause you're a shrink."
"And why did you want to see a shrink?"
"Because..." Because I was gang raped and ever since then my life's gone to shit and I'm hurting the man I love more than anything...
"Mr Vecchio?"
*
He kept on going to the shrink. He kept on going to work, even though Welsh wouldn't let him out of the office. He moved away from his mother's house into an apartment, because he was always seeing Benny everywhere they'd been together, and he couldn't live there anymore. His family spent an awful lot of time at the apartment with him anyway. The bed and all his possessions had turned up at the Vecchio house a couple of days after he'd left Benny's apartment, but he'd sold the bed and bought another one because there was no way he'd ever sleep in it again.
He supposed he was getting his life together. He wasn't drinking, or crying at work, and the nightmares came less often. Nobody looking at him would see the aching void that existed inside him, sometimes even he could forget it for a while.
*
Ray was typing the same form for the fourth, or was it the fifth, time. He'd been hassling Welsh for over a week to let him out on cases, even offered to team up with Huey though he'd rather be on his own. So far it hadn't worked, but he wasn't going to give up. There was something going down, but nobody was saying anything, there was just a feel in the air. He finished the form, correctly this time, put it in the folder and turned to file it. A flash of red caught his eye and he froze. It couldn't be, he wouldn't come here. But it was.
Benny sat in the chair by his desk and eventually Ray met his eyes. He couldn't look away then, searching out the minor changes in his face, things that nobody else would even have noticed. All the old pain, the longing that he had tried to forget was there, as sharp as ever.
"Why are you here Benny?"
"I'm leaving Chicago. I wanted to say goodbye, Ray." And when Ray didn't respond. "I'm sorry, it was selfish of me to come here. Forgive me." He stood and started to walk away. Ray watched numbly as he reached the doorway, hesitated a moment, then walked through it. Now it was really over. Maybe he could get on with his life... ...God... what life?
Before he even realised what he was doing he was walking, then running after Fraser. Behind him, Welsh was grinning. He'd told the Mountie to come over and for a while it had looked like it wasn't going to work. He looked around the room. Nobody was working, they were all staring after Ray. "OK. Get back to work, show's over."
Out on the street Ray looked around in a panic. He couldn't lose Benny now. But he wasn't far away, standing by the Riv. As Ray hesitated, he saw Benny reach out to touch the roof with his fingertips.
"Hey! You! Don't you mark my car!"
Benny's head snapped round and Ray strolled over trying desperately to look casual. When he got close they stood and stared at each other again. Then Benny smiled, just a little.
"You want a ride, Benny?"
"Ray, are you sure?"
"Let's go home..."