Strange Duet
by L.A.K.

He received the message at the house to come to the Consulate after hours. He had an idea whom the note was from, even though he didn't completely recognize the handwriting. Ray was still wondering why his fellow officers hadn't come to get him. He had pretty much walked around in a dazed state, a remorse stupor, since he left Frankie's house that night just a few days ago. Just as instructed, the door was unlocked. Standing in the remains of Constable Fraser's office, he let his eyes drift over the bare walls, the clean desk and smiled. It wasn't too much different from when Benny was here.

No, not Benny. Never Benny. It was always Fraser.

The conniving bastard who was more little more than Victoria's pawn. Ray tried to block out all the time they had spent together in the last year, knowing now it was all a ruse, a fabricated, elaborate scheme set up for Ray to take the fall. Pain radiated in his chest, spreading out into his trembling limbs, knowing they were both somewhere watching the snowfall while laughing at him. No, he corrected, they weren't laughing. They weren't even thinking of him. He didn't matter in their lives anymore.

The opposite of love isn't hate. It's indifference.

Frankie had taken him, as was part of the plan to save the house and keep him out of prison. And Ray conceded to returning to his enemy's bed to save the remains of his shattered existence. He felt another portion of his spirit die when he would just lie there and let the dark eyed man do to him whatever he wanted. The capper was the night Frankie's daughter wondered in, only to be hurried out by her annoyed father. The older Italian remembered just staring into her eyes vacantly, not being able to look away, not truly seeing. Ray could not believe he could have an orgasm feeling so utterly and completely detached. It was like someone else was fucking Zuko instead of him.

Empty in bliss.

Just a few days ago Zuko made a grave error during one of their intimate encounters. It started this present sequence that was building by leaps and bounds. *Feeling* was returning to the bleak, emotionless being he had become since The Ultimate Betrayal had taken place. Frankie could see Ray was tuning him out, screwing on remote as usual, when he quipped maybe Ray should just think about good ole' Benny and maybe that would keep him erect and interested. Before he realized it, the Italian had made it to the bathroom and was puking everything in his system for the entire past year. When Zuko demanded Ray "get his act together," Vecchio snapped, charging him like a snarling bull.

He remembered little else after that, except a lot of blood that wasn't his and screaming and screaming and screaming for what seemed like hours. Funny, though, his voice wasn't hoarse at all the next day. Zuko, however, was in the hospital, the victim of a brutally sadistic beating by a burglar. At least that's what his wife told the police. Ray smiled as he thought of how odd it was that she or the precinct seemed to have no leads on a suspect. He remembered disrobing, taking a shower and burning the blood-soaked clothes without thinking twice. Honestly, the clinical, removed actions scared him. Well, no, it scared the other self that was responsible for receiving stimulus. But that entity was dying...

He realized everyone must know about him and Zuko. Where *else* would he have gotten the money from anyway? Plus, Frankie wasn't exactly quiet about it either, intensifying the humiliation by spreading the word, bragging who his new bedmate was and how it all came to be. That was when it became overwhelming and Ray decided oblivion was better than this pathetic life.

His suicide attempt, Ray reasoned, sent a signal to Lt. Welsh. Harding already knew they weren't exactly friends and now their willingly banging each other? No, the Lieutenant understood and probably did some digging, coming up with what the brown-eyed Italian had been blathering around town. Hence Ray's not being picked up for almost killing the slimy little squirt.

He flinched, thinking of the salty, bleachy tang of Frankie's cum, the overwhelming stench of his cologne that mingled with the unique smell of his sweat. Actually, the worse part of having to be so close to those dark eyes and hair was the fact they reminded him of the female who Ray would love to put in the hospital next. That is, of course, if he could kill Fraser first.

And that's what it'd take, wouldn't it? His chest pounded in agony again as tainted memories assaulted him, moments of deceived closeness and stained shared experiences. It was more than he could bear. He fell to his knees on the carpeted floor, letting the darkness surround him.

"Detective. I'm glad you could make it."

The words had him on his feet, his legally purchased gun drawn and pointed within an inch of the man's face before him. Who didn't even flinch.

Neither one of them did. Slowly, the gun went down and he stared at the person before him. A file, overflowing with charts, graphs and two complete dossier's, was neatly tucked into the crook of the other man's arm, his expression neutral. Finally, Ray found his voice.

"Turnbull, why did you ask me here?"

Ren answered, his voice calm.

"Why do you think, Detective?"

"I haven't the foggiest! Look, if you ain't got nothin' to say, I'm outta' here."

He turned to leave.

"To where, Detective Vecchio? The truth will not leave you."

Ray stopped and turned, his anger sparking.

"What's it to you?!"

Turnbull ducked his head.

"I...am sorry, Detective. I wanted to say that I understand. I...believed in him as well."

Those green eyes blazed wildly. His face crunched up, his voice becoming a hideous growl.

"*How* the fuck could you know my pain?! He was...he *pretended* to be my PARTNER!!"

Those sad cerulean eyes studied the floor as he spoke in a near whisper.

"And he was my master."

Ray's rage stilled. He was caught off guard by the private admission of the simple man before him. He knew how easily Turnbull could be hurt, let alone devastated by the man he worshiped and wanted more than anyone. Still, it paled in comparison. Ray wasn't ready to say he identified with the nervous, rookie Canadian cop.

"I would've done anything for him." Ren stated. "He knew that and he used it against me. I didn't want to admit the truth, but I was aware he was taking advantage me for some nefarious plan."

Ray squinted his brow. How could Turnbull know *that*?

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Detective! Someone like *that* that wonderful, that dedicated, that...beautiful...wanting *me*?! I knew it wasn't real."

Vecchio gulped. Who had been the truly naive one here? Turnbull...or him for believing in Fraser so thoroughly? Didn't he feel the same way? Wouldn't he have done just about whatever Fraser asked of him? The hurt inside him was growing again, this time manifesting itself into a new form of hatred.

Okay, so Fraser had to manipulate the supposedly streetwise cop to help the slut. Ray felt he should have been more careful as to not fall for the 'Big-eyed Mountie Look' and all the other shit Fraser got him into, seeing it all now as for what it was - just one more test, one more display of loyalty to make sure Vecchio would be a most sufficient puppet.

Ray always had his suspicions where Fraser was concerned, never fully convinced he was a saint, aware he would manipulate or use anyone in a heartbeat. Rennie, however, believed in Fraser totally and was ready to give his entire life and soul in exchange for ownership, despite his intuition that the older Constable's advances were not true. Did Fraser have to destroy Turnbull as well? On Fraser's part, this went beyond insidious. It was unnecessary cruelty. The black sadness took on an advanced form, causing any (if that were still possible) remote feelings of compassion on Ray's part to die along with the dream of taking Fraser as his own. The thought actually made him nauseous.

"Looks like he fucked us both quite well, right Detective?"

Green met blue and Ray gazed into the crippled, yet bright and excited face of the young Canadian.

"I'm sorry, Ren."

"Yes...as am I. Now," he said, blinking back tears, "would you care to help me?"

"How?" Ray asked absently.

"In bringing them to justice, of course."

Ray eyes bugged, his voice jumping several octaves.

"*W-what*?! Are you fucking CRAZY?! You'll never find them, you moron! No one ever will!!"

Vecchio watched as the other man's neck contract reflexively, his jaw set in a determined line. Ren walked stiffly to the ex-Mountie's desk. He threw the files down, the contents scattering everywhere. He stepped aside, eyes downcast.

Ray came forward, his heart beating a little faster. The hazel gaze was set on the pile of papers before him. It displayed several highly viable escape routes, tangible hideouts, various methods of disguising one's identity, illegal trading posts where something like diamonds could be sold, no questions asked and a frighteningly accurate chart which could prove their sightings in at least five separates places, creating a blurred, but at least perceptible, pattern of their movements across the frozen north. It was an absolutely brilliant compilation of work.

"Jesus..." was all Ray could manage.

"You see, kind sir, you think you know me."

Vecchio met his eyes. They were alive with the cold fury of a wounded animal.

"But you've never seen me when I'm obsessed."

The Italian shook his head slowly, trying to tear his eyes away from the man and files in front of him, knowing that while very substantial, it wouldn't work. He still wasn't a police officer and if Fraser and his Bitch didn't want to be found, they wouldn't be. It was a simple as that. He'd have to tell Turnbull, have to disappoint him as that Traitor had. The truth Rennie said would never leave him ached terribly in his chest.

*Feeling...*

The general numbness that got Ray through the day was wearing thin, only to be replaced by the awful torture bubbling just beneath the surface of his scarred soul.

"Turnbull, this won't...I mean, I know you're trying, but-"

"Detective..." Turnbull interrupted, much to Vecchio's shock, "I have spoken to Mrs. Zuko. She is most eager to help our cause. It seems she is aware of the...forced nature of your relationship with her husband. She could help him to arrange your reinstatement as an officer of the law with his associates in Internal Affairs. Also, I feel he would be afraid not to, seeing your...persuasive ways. Plus, there is a great deal of people who would like to see this happen, so I believe requesting aid in this task will not be very difficult. Besides, I *do* have help."

With that, the faint sound of soft padding could be heard, getting closer and finally stopping outside the door. Turnbull crossed the room, opened it, which caused Ray's jaw to hit the ground.

"Please come in, Diefenbaker. The Detective and I were just talking about you. Do you still wish to help us find them?"

A definite woof, followed by a low growl was heard.

"Now, Dief," Ren admonished, "I told you that when we locate them, you are not permitted to kill anyone. But if that should come to pass, let's say, while defending ourselves, well, it's something that would be expected. Don't you agree, Detective?"

He detected the faint sarcasm in Rennie's voice and felt himself smile, if slightly. Well, there was little else to live for except this and it wasn't a bad plan. It was definitely better than wandering around for the rest of his life mourning such vile thoughts as Fraser fucking that whore. As the police therapist said, 'don't let one year of your life mess up the rest of it.' Sorry, Doc, he thought. He wouldn't be able to start living again until he found closure. This was the next best thing.

"As a matter of fact, Ren, I do. And it's Ray, okay?"

"As you wish."