At first there was only breathing. Gradually hitching breathing, as if someone was trying not to hyperventilate. His first instinct was to pass it off as a prank call, but something made him decide otherwise. "Please, let me help you."
A small wavering voice answered. "Yeah, I, I think I could really use some help. I'm uh, a little scared right now."
"Of what?"
This time it was several minutes before the reply. "Um, myself. I just picked up the scissors and, um, tried to cut myself. I knew I was going to do it, I mean I was completely rational the entire time. I grabbed a box of tissues, I opened up the first aid kit and got a large band-aid - I even used an antiseptic wipe on the scissors. I found a place where no one would see and started trying to cut myself." The voice was very close to tears. "I'm scared shitless right now. I mean I was really close to doing something really bad to myself."
"What made you stop?"
"That's the most frightening part. I have no idea."
Wednesday night Ray picked Fraser up and they went to a basket ball game. The Bulls played the Jazz, and won 97 to 94. Thursday night they had dinner at the Vecchio's. Benton said grace. They spent most of the weekend on stakeout. The time moved quickly, and they got all the proof they needed.
"How can I help?"
"Could you just listen?"
"Yeah, I can do that." He said softly.
For the next six minutes, he could hear him crying, still trying to hold it in.
"Where are you?"
"Under the desk. I couldn't be out, you know, where people could see me, even though there wasn't anyone in the room."
"Are you alone?"
"Alone, all alone."
Monday night they got takeout and went to the movies. Watching Dudley Do Right, they played Mystery Science Theater, narrating the movie while picking apart the mistakes in costuming, plot, and dialogue. The audience also enjoyed their camaraderie.
"I'm not even a person to him. Maybe some sort of pet, only I'm not cute and cuddly, and I don't seem to follow orders very well either. I've always been a disappointment to him."
Ray frowned. He knew that feeling all too well. "That doesn't mean it's your fault."
"Sometimes I know that. Sometimes I just tell myself how awfully sad his life must be, but other times that doesn't help. Sometimes I have trouble believing that."
"What about your mother?"
"She's a liar, just a complete liar. But I can't seem to learn that. Over and over, I let her get to me and I just can't seem to remember that she can't be TRUSTED." After rising in anger, his voice broke, changing tone. "Sound rather paranoid don't I? But I'm not," the voice whispered so quietly Ray almost couldn't hear it. "I'm not."
Tuesday the phone rang.
"I have to go."
"Would you do me a favor? Please, would you call me tomorrow, and let me know how you are? We can talk again, if you'd like. As much as you want."
"I don't know."
"No rules. I want to help. Talking might help."
"All right. I'll try."
"Good. My name is Ray."
"I know."
The words didn't register until he'd hung up. The voice had sounded so familiar. Someone he knew had a problem. He had to help.
Calling in sick to work the next day, he was sitting in the unlit living room watching the sun set in the window when Fraser came home.
"Ray? Is something wrong?"
He shook his head quickly to rattle the cobwebs loose. "Don't know. Hope not." He stood up, but was unable to take his eyes off the fading light. "How was work?"
"All right. Inspector Thatcher and I had almost finished when Turnbull accidentally tripped and unplugged the computer. All the data got messed up."
The ringing phone startled him.
"I'll get it, Ray."
"No, wait!" Rushing to the phone, he barely managed to get to it first. "It's probably for me." Turning his back to Fraser and the view, he said, "Hello? This is Ray."
"I found something that works."
"Shit. Tell me you didn't - " For once Fraser's reproachful gaze was ignored.
"I can't." The voice was frighteningly weak.
"Do you need an ambulance?" Ray was alarmed.
"No. I didn't cut my wrists. Just a few scratches. That's all."
"That's all? How can you say that? You could really hurt yourself."
"So? What would it matter?"
"It would matter to me."
"I'm not going to kill myself."
Ray let out the breath he'd been holding and caught Fraser's worried eye. "It's okay." He mouthed, putting one hand over the mouthpiece. "Do you mind?"
Ben looked him straight in the eye, looking for answers. Finally he shook his head and left Ray alone with the phone call. He'd explain later.
"At least, I don't think I am."
That made him shiver.
"It felt kind of good actually. Reminded me that I was alive."
"What are you talking about?"
"Control."
That Ray could understand easily. When you didn't have any, control was everything. It all came down to who had the power to live your life.
"I'm sorry to dump all this on you, but you were the only person I could think of that would understand."
"So I do know you. I thought the voice sounded familiar. Would you tell me your name?"
"Um." The voice hesitated.
"It's okay if you don't want to. I just thought maybe I could help more if I knew your name."
"Renfield."
Ray searched his mind, but couldn't think of anybody by that name. "Anybody ever call you Renny?"
"No."
"How would you like it if I gave you that nickname?"
"I - that would be really nice. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Renny. Call me tomorrow?"
"You mean that?"
"Yes. I get off work at six. How 'bout you?"
"I, um, four."
"Okay, so same time, same place?"
"Thanks, Ray."
"You're welcome."
Sunset came and went with no phone call.
Ben watched as Ray grew more and more anxious. Finally he couldn't hold back anymore. "What's wrong, Ray?"
"I can't tell you, Benny. Please don't make me."
"Ray, I'm worried about you. Whatever this is, it's really getting to you. You don't have to deal with this by yourself. Trust me."
"It's not that I don't trust you, you know I do. This isn't something you can do anything about and it's not my problem to talk about."
"I know you would never willingly betray a confidence, Ray, but maybe this is more than you can handle on your own."
Ray agonized over what to say. Normally he wouldn't, but he needed help. There was nothing he could do to help Renny without knowing who or where he was. He thought of what could happen to someone he'd begun caring deeply about and his silence broke. "He hasn't called. He was supposed to call."
"Who?"
"I'm not sure. Do you know anyone named Renfield?" Could it be that easy?
"I believe Turnbull's first name is Renfield."
Ray's jaw dropped in shock. "Turnbull? Oh God, that makes so much sense. I gotta go, Benny. I'll call, okay."
"Ray - wait! What's going on?"
It was too late. Halfway through his question, Ray was out the door.
Putting the key in the ignition, Ray realized that he had no clue where Turnbull lived. As he started the car, his mind jumped from possibility to possibility, dropping most of them instantly. He knew that trying to get the information out of Thatcher or Fraser would take too long. On autopilot he drove to the station. At this time of the night, most everybody at the station was home except for the uniforms and Vice and Narcotics. He tried to get Turnbull's address out of the police data banks, but since he was the equivalent of a foreign national with security clearance, Ray was getting nowhere fast.
He was so caught up in dread that he didn't hear someone come up behind him until a deep voice asked what he was doing there.
His heart raced even faster. "I need your help, Lieutenant. I can't go into it now, but I really need Turnbull's address, and I don't have time to explain why. I have a really bad feeling about this."
Harding Welsh had been a cop long enough to trust hunches and bad feelings. He'd also known Ray long enough to trust his instincts. "Okay, let's see what we can do. What's his full name?"
"Ren -" he stuttered over the name. "Renfield Turnbull."
A few minutes with the computer and he had it. "219 East Wilson Avenue. Let's go."
"What?"
"I'm coming with you. We'll take my car."
Without asking, Welsh turned on the lights, ignoring Ray's double take. Like a dull knife through cement they finally managed to get through rush hour traffic. Running up to the second floor apartment, they found the door unlocked.
Ray was muttering a prayer under his breath in Italian as they made their way from the living room, through the kitchen, and down the hallway to the bedroom. Cautiously Welsh turned the doorknob.
The lights in the bedroom were off, but the light from the hallway and a pair of streetlights illuminated the room enough to see. What they saw was enough to galvanize them into action.
Turnbull was lying on the bed with military precision. One arm was crossed over his undershirt, his other arm lay flat on the bed. He was asleep, but his arm was still damp with blood from three parallel cuts near the elbow. A single lock of hair had moved out of place, and brushing it back, Ray was reminded of taking care of his little brother right before he died.
He was startled out of his memories by Welsh's return to the room, unaware that he'd even left. Cleaning and bandaging Turnbull's wounds was relatively quick and easy. Waking him up was harder. He was groggy, and quickly became dizzy as he sat up in surprise at their being in the room.
"Whoa there. It's okay. Slow down." With a gentle push, he made Turnbull lay back on the bed.
"Ray?"
"Yeah, Renny. It's me." From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the startlingly white wrapping. "Aw Renny, you should'a called."
"I couldn't." With a soft sigh he turned over, unable to look Ray in the eye.
Helplessly Ray looked up at Welsh, who shrugged. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he couldn't think of anything to say. "Listen, I'm going to call Benny real quick and I'll be right back, okay?"
Turnbull nodded without looking at him.
He was almost sickeningly glad to leave the room. His fingers shook as he dialed the familiar numbers to connect him to the only person that made sense to him.
The phone was picked up midway through the first ring.
"Ray?"
"Yeah."
"Is everything -"
Reaction was beginning to set in now, and he was barely able to answer. "For now. Physically."
"Are you okay?"
"Not really. In fact, I think I'm about to start freaking out here."
"Hold on, Ray. It's not your fault. You're not responsible."
"Welsh." He remembered suddenly and thought Benny should know.
"Lieutenant Welsh? He's there?"
Ray nodded before remembering that he was on the phone. "Yeah. He was at the station." That didn't explain much, he knew, but he couldn't get into it now.
"Ray, do you want me to come, or to get Inspector Thatcher? It's all right if this is too much for you."
"I don't know. I don't have a clue. I don't have a fucking idea of what I'm -" His outburst blew out leaving him even more tired. "I gotta go, Benny."
"I'll be here, Ray. Just let me know if you need me, okay?"
"Okay." He was grateful for Benny. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Saying and hearing the words helped him face going back to the room. When he went in, Welsh was placing a wash cloth to Renny's forehead, and talking to him gently. He stood up and came to speak to him by the door.
"How is he?"
"Better. How are you?"
Compassion from his boss didn't surprise him. "I'm okay, I guess. Thanks for being here with me."
"You're welcome. Listen, why don't you go home? I'll stay with him."
"I- "
"It's okay. Really. He's kind of embarrassed right now."
He probably should have stayed, but he was barely holding on at that point. All he wanted to do was go home and curl up around Ben. When he got home, Ben was making tea in the kitchen, obviously setting up to wait on him.
Taking off his coat took most of his energy, leaving him exhausted enough to accept a drink from Ben's cup. He smiled slightly as the warm smell of tea and home helped in little immeasurable ways.
Ben took one look at him at his face and led him to the bedroom where he helped Ray change and tucked him into bed. He stood to take the cup into the kitchen and turn off the lights.
"Lie down?" He asked quietly.
Fraser obeyed, content to let Ray have what he needed. Climbing into the bed he let Ray help him take off his undershirt.
Ray kissed a pattern that rarely varied when they made love, his lips following his hands from shoulder to mid back, always centering for several minutes around a scar on of Ben's back. A scar that years later, Ray still regretted even as Ben was grateful for it. That scar reminded him of all that he had to be grateful for, grateful that he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life.
Finally Ray felt safe. One look at the man lying next to him, ready to give him whatever he might need, and his heart began to slow.
He wrapped his arms around Ben tightly and Ben let him hold on as long as it took for him to fall asleep, rubbing his back soothingly.