"I love Fraser," thought Ray to himself. And he loved Fraser not as a friend, or as a partner, though that was how it had started; no, Ray Kowalski was *in love* with Benton Fraser. The question was, what was he going to do about it?

Well, the logical thing to do would probably be to tell him. Yeah, right. How was he supposed to do that? "Fraser, I love ya." Uh, no. Oh, Fraser would probably be very polite and calm, and maybe even say, "Thank you kindly for telling me, Ray." And then he'd walk directly out of Ray's life. He'd really go through with the transfer, this time.

So, then, what could he do? For now, nothing. He had Fraser as a friend, a very good friend. That was better than not having Fraser in his life at all.

He didn't think he'd ever told the Mountie how much that friendship meant to him. He wasn't good at saying things like that. He'd been quite surprised when, at the Consulate, the night before Cahill was coming with an entire platoon of cops to arrest him, Fraser had said, "You are my friend." Just like that. He'd asked Fraser, "Was that hard to say?" Fraser had smiled and said, "Not in the least." How was Fraser able to say things like that? How was Fraser able to believe in Ray so completely as to just *know* that Ray hadn't killed Volpe ? Fraser believed in him more than he believed in himself. And now Ray had gone and fallen in love with the man.

Ray had had relationships with men before, though nothing serious; before he married Stella, he'd - he hated the word "experimented" - explored relationships with both men and women. But when he got together with Stella, every other human being, male and female, had ceased to exist for him. Then the breakup had happened. It had taken a long time for him to accept that Stella didn't want to be married to him anymore, and he'd behaved like a real f*ck-up for awhile. It took a crazy man with a bomb to shock him in to realizing exactly how far such behaviour could go. And, gradually, he had let Stella go, and Fraser had been there for him all the while. How did the Mountie put up with him?

He'd actually been avoiding Fraser lately. There hadn't been any reason for them to work on cases together - not that that had ever stopped them before - and he'd become quite good at inventing reasons to not see Fraser socially. Lately it had just been too hard for Ray to be around his partner and *not* say or do something to betray his feelings. All Fraser had to do was touch him, or even look at him a certain way, and Ray's heart would speed up and his tongue would get tangled and his voice would tremble - if he could actually bring himself to say something.

There had been an incident while he was staying at the Consulate: Fraser had announced his intention to pay a visit to one of the suspects in Volpe's murder, a mobster known for not being exactly sane. And Ray couldn't go with him, couldn't leave the Consulate without being arrested. He'd been terrified, and had tried to talk Fraser out of going. Fraser had just said, "I have my resources, Ray" and squeezed his shoulder. He'd just about jumped Fraser right then, but Turnbull had interrupted them - fortunately, or unfortunately, Ray wasn't sure. He certainly didn't want to do anything to hurt or frighten his partner, but he wanted to touch him so badly! Sure, they touched each other in the kind of casual way that friends did, and it pleased Ray that Fraser felt comfortable enough with him to do that, but Ray wanted more. And there was no way he could ever have it.

Ray's cell phone rang, jolting him out of his reverie. "Vecchio," he answered. "What? Who? Where? I'm on my way." He raced from his apartment, not waiting for the elevator but pelting headlong down the stairs. He'd just been told that there was a crazy man with a gun at the Canadian Consulate. And there were hostages. He didn't know if Fraser was one of them. Thatcher and Turnbull, he didn't care about. All he could think of was that Fraser was in danger, and he would give anything to change that.

When he arrived at the Consulate, he saw police cars everywhere. Mentally scanning the crowd of uniformed and plain clothes officers, he figured out who was in charge and approached her. "Vecchio, 27th Precinct," he introduced himself. "My partner's in there. What's the situation?"

"Lt. Erin Nielsen. We don't know any more than you do, Detective. There were shots fired a few minutes ago, and according to the young man at the door, there has been a casualty, but he won't let us in. Something about it being Canadian soil."

Ray looked at the door to the Consulate. Turnbull was standing there, in his "sentry" stance, looking pale and slightly ill.

Ray removed his gun from his holster and handed it to Lt. Nielsen. "You can't take guns into Canada," he said. Then, before Nielsen could stop him, he ran up the stairs to the front door of the Consulate. "Turnbull!" he called.

"Mister Vecchio!" exclaimed Turbull. "How pleasant to see you again. You haven't been around recently."

"Turnbull, look at me. I don't have a gun. Can you let me in?"

"Certainly, Mister Vecchio, though I must warn you, we have a bit of a mess in there," Turnbull said, standing aside to let Ray pass.

Ray swallowed hard and fought to retain his composure. "Worse than the toilet, Turnbull?" he asked.

"Much worse, sir. I'm afraid I was a bit lax in my sentry duties ... a man with a gun made it in to the Consulate behind my back. Constable Fraser attempted to disarm him, and, well, it all ended up being rather bloody."

Ray stopped in his tracks. "Where is he?" he asked, his voice coming out in a strained whisper.

"Sir?"

"WHERE IS FRASER?" screamed Ray.

"Ray!" came a familiar, welcome voice. Fraser stepped out of his office. His tunic was covered in blood, but he appeared to be in one piece.

This time, Ray did jump Fraser. With a choked sob, he threw his arms around the Mountie and held him tightly.

Fraser gently patted Ray's back and said, "Please, Ray, not in front of Turnbull." He disentangled himself from his partner and led him into his office.

Lying on the floor was the body of a man with most of its head missing. "This is - ?" asked Ray.

"Apparently he was upset about a trade deal between Canada and the United States, and he chose to express his displeasure with a loaded weapon," explained Fraser.

"What happened?"

"I first attempted to talk him in to giving up his weapon, and when that didn't work, I was going to disarm him by force, but he chose to end his life rather than give himself up."

"The blood...yer covered in it," Ray said softly. "It's all his?"

"Yes, Ray."

"Yer okay?"

"I'm fine, Ray."

Ray sank to floor and started to sob. Fraser knelt down and put his arms around his friend. "I'm all right, Ray," he whispered. "I'm all right."

"Fraser...I thought I'd lost you," Ray said with a sob.

"You haven't lost me, Ray. I'm right here."

"I can't lose you, Fraser. I love you."

"I love you too, Ray."

Ray looked up into his partner's face, which showed concern and tenderness. "You...you do?"

"Yes, Ray. You don't know how afraid I was that when you heard about the gunman, you would attempt to come in here unarmed to take him down."

"So you tried to do it yourself," stated Ray.

"Yes, Ray."

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"You're nuts."

"No more than you are, Ray."

"So we're both nuts," said Ray.

"Yes, I believe we are. Is that a bad thing?" Fraser asked.

Ray thought for a moment. Then he smiled through the remains of his tears. He kissed Fraser gently. "Nah," he said. "It means we're perfect for each other."

END