Disclaimer: Due South and its characters don't belong to me, sniff sniff.
Rated: R for language, and some m/m content.

For Corrinne.

******************
Not Going To Be Afraid
By Sylvie Grenon

Constable Benton Fraser knocked tentatively on his partner's door.  He
was a little worried; he and Ray had made plans to meet for supper after
work, and now, two hours after the appointed time, Fraser hadn't heard
a word from the man. 

He knocked again, and was about to turn away when he heard a muffled
"S'open".  With a small frown, Fraser tried the door; to his surprise,
it was unlocked.  Wondering at this unprecedented action on Ray's part,
he entered the dark apartment.

The object of his concern was sitting slumped on his couch, the neon
lights of a neighbouring bar shining through the windows illuminating
his features.  There was a bleakness in his eyes, and Fraser wondered
whether the man had been drinking.

Ray turned his head briefly to glance at the Mountie.  "Hey, Frase,"
he said dully, "sorry for standin' you up."

Fraser shook his head, dismissing Ray's apology.  Something was obviously
very wrong with the man. "Ray, are you all right?"

Ray chuckled humourlessly. "Oh, yeah, Frase. I'm great. I'm just peachy."
He turned his head back towards the window, but moved over on the couch
as Fraser approached him, indicating the now-empty couch cushion, inviting
the Mountie to sit.

They sat in silence for a short time, Fraser knowing better than to push
his friend. Ray would talk when he was ready.  Finally, still not looking
at him, Ray spoke. 

"A cop died today."

Oh dear. "I'm sorry, Ray. Was he a friend of yours?"

"Nah. I didn't know him really well, just to talk to him, ya know.  He
worked outta my old precinct."

"I see," said Fraser, not entirely truthfully.  A policeman's death was
tragic, granted, but it was a hazard of the job that both he and Ray
had faced on occasion.  He wondered why Ray was taking this particular
event so much to heart.

"He surprised a drug deal goin' down," Ray continued. "They started shooting,
he called for backup, and then he took a bullet in the leg.  Never made
it to the hospital." 

Fraser frowned. "He died of a leg wound?"

"Yeah. Bled to death. Maybe had somethin' to do with the fact that his
backup took half an hour to get there."

Fraser was aghast. "What?"
The bitter chuckle sounded again.  "Yeah; for some reason, the two units
about five blocks away just couldn't get there any faster.  Must've been
some traffic jam." 

The Mountie could only shake his head, uncomprehending how an error of
this magnitude could have been committed. "Good God, Ray! There must
have been some sort of mistake in the " 

Ray cut him off harshly. "Yeah, Fraser, there was a mistake. A big one.
John made the mistake of fallin' in love with a guy."  He noted Fraser's
shocked expression. "Yeah, Frase. John Stuart was gay, and his macho
fucking cop buddies left him high and dry.  I guess they figured a queer
cop wasn't worth saving."

Fraser was speechless with horror.  He knew, of course, that homosexuality
was barely-if at all- tolerated in the law-enforcement environment, on
both sides of the border, he unhappily acknowledged.  Yet he had never
seen such a graphic demonstration of the fact. He understood now the
cause of Ray's bleak mood, and yet he was still surprised at the extent
of it.  He was fairly certain that Ray himself was straight, a certainty
that had caused the Mountie no amount of despair in the past few months.
He knew, though, that Ray's innate sense of justice and fairness was
at work here, and the man's despair and frustration at this injustice
was causing him a great deal of pain. And that was one thing Fraser could
not stand for.

Reaching out to his partner, he gently laid a hand on his friend's shoulder,
comforting him silently as he had after Ray's visit to Beth Botrell.
Ray seemed to lean into the touch gratefully, and finally turned his
head to face his friend.  His eyes were shining and bleak. 

"Why, Fraser?" he whispered? "It doesn't make any sense.  We're cops,
god dammit. We see all the ugliest parts of life.  We see hookers who
overdosed on cheap drugs; we see old people who get  murdered for their
pension checks; Jesus, Fraser,  we even see babies who've been raped.
" He shook his head, the tears now streaming down his cheeks; he ignored
them. "There's so much bad fucking shit in the world, and still people
like John get left to die because of who they love." 

He was openly crying, now, and Fraser, despite himself, gave in to the
urge to take his friend into his arms.  He gently stroked Ray's back
with soothing murmurs as the man buried his face in Fraser's shoulder,
his breath coming in short hitches. The muffled voice continued its tirade.
"We got our priorities all fucked up, Frase; it's okay for two guys to
try to blow each other up, but if two guys just try to blow each other
they're perverted freaks."  Fraser was shocked at Ray's boldness, but
didn't loosen his embrace. "People keep talkin' about gays gettin' more
rights all the time, and then we turn around and there's kids gettin'
tortured, and cops gettin' killed. You know how many gay-bashings we
haveta investigate each year?" 

Fraser could only guess, though he knew the number was atrocious.  "Ignorance
and fear drive people to do horrendous things, Ray." he agreed, and felt
the body in his arms shudder. 

"Ya know what, Frase?" Ray said softly. "The worst part about it is that
so much of the love that people have, they don't show it, 'cause they're
afraid of what'll happen.  Some people miss out on a whole lifetime of
happiness 'cause of fear." He lifted his dampened face to stare unflinching
into the Mountie's curious eyes.  Fraser had time to wonder at the sudden
ferocity in his friend's gaze when Ray went on.

"I'm not gonna take it, Frase.  I'm not gonna let the fear take me over
anymore. I'm not gonna let those bastards steal my happiness."

And without warning, Fraser found himself on the receiving end of a passionate
kiss that quite literally took his breath away.  He was dimly aware of
his lips opening to Ray's invading tongue, of his arms and hands moving
frantically up and down Ray's back, of Ray's own hands roving and caressing
him in turn, before the two men parted, gasping for breath. 

When Fraser had taken in enough oxygen to form words, he gasped "Ray!".
The huskiness of his tone caught the attention of his partner, who had
lowered his eyes, afraid, perhaps, of the reaction of the oh-so-innocent
Mountie that had captured his heart in a long-ago cemetery crypt. Unsure
grey eyes met blue ones and widened at the love and passion they found
there, a flicker of hope moving through them.

Fraser smiled, reaching out and caressed the stubbled cheek with his
fingers. "You know what, Ray?  I'm not afraid anymore, either."  And
though he knew that the path he had chosen was a treacherous one, with
many obstacles to overcome and few rewards to reap, he knew with absolute
certainty that with Ray by his side, he could handle anything. Love was
indeed a rare and precious thing, and, now that he had it in his possession,
he had no intention of letting anyone take it from him.  

And he gently pulled Ray to him for another soul-sharing kiss.

The end.
     
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