This story is slash, containing characters who (sadly) do not belong to me and both happen to be men who want to have sex with each other. I'm not writing this for any gain other than my own personal amusement. This story is rated NC-17.

What follows is the sixth installment in the "One Ray, Two Ray, Old Ray, New Ray" (with all due deference to Dr. Suess) which will have something in it to please or offend everyone, including Fraser/Kowalski pairings, Fraser/Vecchio, and even Vecchio/Kowalski. You have been warned.

This story is a sequel to "Sauce." It is a retelling of the third season Asylum episode, written by Paul Quarrington, to whom I give all due credit for most of the really snappy dialog, and for writing such a slashable episode. Thanks, Paul.

any comments, suggestions, or complaints can be sent to me at magik@socketis.net

"Asylum, Take 2" by Barbara J. Webb

The phone call had told Ray where and when to be, and for meets with contacts, Ray was always on time - early, usually. Volpe hadn't shown up yet, so Ray pulled out his cell phone to give the Consulate a ring, feeling the need for a quick Fraser fix.

One ring, and then that smooth baritone began speaking. "Canadian Consulate, Acting Liaison Officer, Constable Benton Fraser speaking." Ray loved it when Fraser sounded official. He began pacing as he started to speak, anxious for Volpe to arrive.

"She gone yet?" Ray knew Thatcher was scheduled to leave today, and that Fraser was looking forward to her trip almost as much as she was.

"Uh, no, sir. Um, Canada is a nation bordered by the United States to the south, the Atlantic and Pacific oceans to the east and the west, and the Arctic ocean to the north, comprising of roughly ten million square kilometers."

Ray couldn't hold back a grin - there were few things in the world more fun than playing with Fraser when he couldn't fight back. "So the ice queen is still there?"

"Yes, Sir, it can be a cold climate."

Ray almost laughed at that one -- was Fraser telling a joke? In the background, Ray heard Thatcher's voice. "Fraser," he tried to recapture the Mountie's attention, "I'm in a hurry."

Fraser's voice was muffled, like he was covering the phone. "It's a man in a hurry." Talking to Thatcher, Ray guessed. There were more muffled voices on the other end, and Ray took another quick glance around the alley. "Fraser, you there?"

Again, Fraser sounded as though he were covering the phone receiver. "Have a safe trip, sir."

"Listen," Ray was tired of waiting for Fraser to work himself free. "Fraser, something came up. I gotta meet a guy, so I won't be dropping by tonight." They hadn't had any official plans, but it had been weeks since they hadn't spent at least the evening together, and Ray suspected that with Thatcher out of town, the same opportunities for fun had been going through Fraser's head as had been through Ray's. Well, maybe not the same, but Fraser was probably thinking something. Then, he'd gotten this call. "There's a-"

"Vecchio!"

Volpe's voice from behind him. "Gotta go." He flipped the phone close - he'd just have to tell Fraser later about the bottle of champagne in the Consulate refrigerator. "Volpe!" He turned and strode towards the criminal, trying to push all thoughts of Fraser and what he was missing out on to the back of his mind and settle into tough guy mode.

He walked right up to Volpe, looking him straight in the eye. "So?" Volpe asked.

"So?" Ray repeated with a small toss of his head.

"You wouldn't be wearing a wire would you?"

It occurred to Ray that Volpe seemed rather nervous about this meet. Ray loved it when he made the bad guys nervous. "Me?" His voice was full of innocence.

"So you don't mind if I have a look?"

Ray held up his arms invitingly, leering at Volpe. He couldn't help but think of Fraser as Volpe patted him down - imagining the Mountie's strong hands instead of Volpe's. No, he needed to get his brain focused on what was in front of him. "A man with style is a man who can smile." Although when Volpe's hands moved up inside his thighs, brushing against his groin, he could feel the silly grin that came to his face as he was reminded of Fraser's hands on him last night-

He dragged his mind back on topic. "Do you the same favor?"

"I'm a criminal. What would I be doing wearing a wire?"

"Posterity?" Ray couldn't resist playing with Volpe a bit as he patted him down quickly, knocking Volpe's shaved head back and forth between his hands. This had to be one of his favorite parts of police work - getting to tease the bad guys.

"Satisfied?" Volpe was starting to sound annoyed.

Ray would have none of that. "I'm never satisfied," he spit out, his expression sharpening. Volpe needed to remember who was the cop here. "What do you want?"

"Whaddo I want? You called the meet."

"Who called you? You called me." They came to the same conclusion simultaneously, both cop and criminal instincts crying out that there was danger here. Both went for guns, breaking apart to try and locate any immediate danger. Ray only had time to wonder why someone might want to set the two of them up like this when the gunfire started.

He dived for cover, looking back around in time to see Volpe collapse, shot. He came out, trying to look all directions at once, moving closer to Volpe to see if he was dead.

Then there was an explosion of pain and darkness. When the darkness started to clear, there was a uniformed officer screaming something at him. It took a moment for the sounds to reassemble themselves into words. "Uh..."

"Police officer, don't move!" That made sense to Ray. Police officer. So was he. They were both police officers.

"It's okay, I'm-"

"I said don't move!"

She was a jumpy police officer, and waving a gun at him. He moved slowly, trying not to startle her. "Take it easy, I'm a cop."

"I said freeze!" This woman was acting like a complete psycho - the gun in her hand pointed at him was starting to make Ray extremely nervous.

"Okay, okay, okay; good, good, good-" He took his hand off his own gun, moving very slowly.

An explosion further down the alley, and the cop spun, squeezing off a few rounds. Ray jumped at the opportunity, scrambling in the other direction. "Stop!" He heard her yell behind him. Then more gunfire that he could hear ricochet off the wall near him. "Or I'll shoot!"

Around the corner, he paused. "Good sequence," he yelled back at her. A split second decision - there was only one place his paralyzed brain could think of to go. He took off down the street, not sure if she was still behind him, not looking around to check.

Bursting through the door of the Consulate blocks later, he collapsed to his knees, sliding across the floor. "Fraser!"

And then, the Mountie was there, calm, self-assured, in control of the situation. He helped Ray up, assessing the situation, took Ray into Thatcher's office, settled him into a chair. Fraser's cool hands on Ray's forehead as he examined the gash were gentle. They brought Ray's brain back down from its frenzied state, calming him. Ray closed his eyes as Fraser went to find bandaging materials.

When the Mountie returned, things were starting to come back into focus. Fraser briefly stroked Ray's face, his eyes warm and worried. Then he was all business, tending to Ray's wound and asking him what happened.

"-so Volpe's had his own little operation on the south side for a year or so - drugs, guns, prostitution: yer basic American dream - Ow!" Unexpected pain shot through Ray's head again as Fraser touched his wound with a q-tip.

Fraser's hands jerked back. "Sorry." But he returned to dressing Ray's wounds - it had to be done.

"What is that?"

"It will prevent infection." Fraser's tone was cool, businesslike - what Ray had come to recognize as Fraser worried. "You were discussing Mr. Volpe?"

"Smells." Ray tried to keep his thoughts on track, through the swirling jumble of the pain, his confusion, the smell of whatever salve Fraser was using, and the simple proximity of Fraser. "Uh, word is he's getting ambitious lately, so naturally I'm anxious for a face to face. I get there, an it's a setup."

Fraser's fingers brushed against Ray's hair; Ray could feel the warmth radiating off his body, but his demeanor was still composed, and Ray had no idea what was going through his head. "You think somebody hit you?"

"Stuff smells - I don't remember. Um, I wake up, Volpe's dead, an I got this uniform blasting away like Yosimite Sam - bang bang bang - I take off."

"And you have no idea what happened to Mr. Volpe?"

"This stuff *really* stinks. Uh, somebody shot him. Coulda been anybody. Coulda been me." The last was more difficult to say - Ray didn't want to accept that possibility - but Fraser needed all the facts. Ray had faith in Fraser that he'd be able to make this right.

"I see." Easily said, Fraser's voice still betraying nothing of the thoughts going on inside his head.

But now the smell was starting to make him dizzy. At least, he was pretty sure it was the smell. "What is that?"

But, as had been true so many times in the past, Fraser's answer was nothing Ray wanted to hear. "It's a concoction I made from the mucous membrane of a pregnant...it's not important." Fraser set down the gauze he'd been using to blot Ray's forehead and stepped back. "What *is* important, if I may recap," Fraser began to wander as he spoke, "is that you were lured to a meeting with a gangland figure. At this meeting, the gangland figure was murdered - an event of which you have no memory. A uniformed officer arrived; you resisted arest, and you then fled the scene of the homicide. Do you agree these are the facts of the scenario?"

"Did I just say that, or do I have a head injury?"

"Well, Ray, I'm afraid that I have no option." Ray watched, confused and stunned as Fraser pulled handcuffs out of Inspector Thatcher's desk. "By the powers that are vested in my by the government of Canada, I am placing you under arrest." Ray didn't know what to say - what could he say? He had come to Fraser, trusted Fraser, and now the Mountie was arresting him. "You have the right to remain silent...." As Fraser recited Ray's rights, he put the handcuffs around Ray's wrists - in the process, gently stroking Ray's hands. Ray looked up into the Mountie's eyes; they were pleading with Ray to believe in him, despite the impersonal tone of his voice. "Do you understand these rights?"

Ray nodded, mutely, and Fraser took back his hands, squeezing them. "We're going to find out what happened, Ray." Just as quickly as he had slapped them on, Fraser had the key and was unlatching the handcuffs. "Let's get to work."

* * * * *

It had seemed like a reasonable idea at the time - no, on second thought, it hadn't sounded at all reasonable, but Ray hadn't been able to come up with an argument for it - letting Fraser go out investigating while he sat at the embassy with Turnbull. But after half an hour of curling, Ray was about ready to go turn himself in to Huey and Dewey just for a change of pace.

Instead, he contented himself with crumpling little slips of paper into balls and throwing them at Turnbull's head. Thus far, the Mountie seemed oblivious to the assault. Finally, Ray snapped. "Anything that moves that slowly is not a sport."

"Not a sport," Turnbull muttered.

Ray tried again. "This is not a sport; it's housework."

"It is a calling." There was definite annoyance rising in Turnbull's voice. Ray might be able to bring some excitement to his afternoon after all.

"It may be a pastime; it may be a hobby, but it is definitely not a sport."

Turnbull took several deep breaths, and then jerked out of his chair, turning to face Ray. "Do you want to fight?"

Now Ray was just amused. "Over curling?"

"Yes. What if I made fun of baseball?"

For a moment, it occurred to Ray that Fraser might not approve of them fighting in the embassy. But on the other hand, he was bored - and Turnbull was talking about making fun of baseball. "All right." He jumped up, going into a guard position.

"Afternoon, gentlemen." Fraser's entrance caused Turnbull to drop his guard, although the Mountie was still glaring at Ray. However, the fight was gone almost instantly from Ray's head, banished by Fraser's presence.

He started to welcome Fraser back, but then realized that Fraser didn't have the files Ray had sent him after. "Hey, you're empty handed."

"But I am not empty trousered." Ray had no response to that - it was almost too easy. He was completely stunned when Fraser started to undress. He glanced up at Turnbull - who's attention was back on the curling match - idly wondering if this was some weird Canadian custom of welcoming or something. Otherwise, he wouldn't have thought Fraser would be this open about -

It all became clear as Fraser pulled the files from the poofy parts of his pants. "Yes," Ray said, as Fraser pulled out the first. "Yes." They were the two folders Ray needed. Any disappointment he might have found in the fact that this wasn't a come on was quickly swept away by the excitement of the case.

* * * * *

Ray had to get out. Tomorrow, they would be coming in after him. He had to get out. One day had simply not been enough to crack this case and tomorrow it would be too late. He had to get out.

But Diefenbaker was standing watch, blocking Ray's exit. He began barking as Ray tried to get past him. "Stupid dog! Stupid dog! Stupid - get out of the way, come on!"

Fraser's soft "Ray" from behind brought him up short. Dief lay down, obviously confident that Fraser had things well in hand. Fraser continued, still quiet, "Where are you going?"

Taking a moment to gather himself, Ray spun around, marshaling all his anger and sense of futility to attack Fraser's quiet rationality. "I can't wait around for Cahill and his goons to arrest me. I gotta do somethin."

"Do what Ray, and where?" For the first time that day, there seemed a break in the Fraser calm - a crackle of anxiousness, of frustration in his voice. "Everyone in the city on both sides of the law is looking for you."

"Oh yeah? That may be, but I gotta do something."

"Yes you do." Soft concern was in Fraser's voice - worry, and maybe even a bit of fatigue. It was beginning to occur to Ray that perhaps this day had been as trying to Fraser as it had been to him. "You have to trust me."

But Ray wasn't yet ready to back down. Fight or flight - they seemed his only options left. "Trust you, Fraser? I don't even know if I trust me." The faith that had been so easy earlier that day had been slowly gnawed away until his insides felt raw and painful. "You know, I don't think I whacked Volpe, but I can't remember details...it...that might of been my finger on the trigger."

Low, insistent, Fraser's cool tone tried to sooth the ache within Ray's soul. "You didn't shoot that man."

"How do you know? How do you *know*? How can you be so sure?" At that moment, Ray couldn't imagine a question that could be more important.

But, as always, Fraser had the answer - perhaps the only answer that mattered - the answer that could ease Ray down from the cliff's edge he was standing on. "Because I know you - you're my partner. And you're my friend."

How did Fraser do that - with a few words, sooth the maddening turmoil in Ray's brain? And how could Fraser just trust like that, have such complete confidence in Ray when Ray didn't even believe in himself. Flustered for a moment, Ray couldn't find his own words. "Is that hard to say?"

Fraser shook his head. "Not in the least."

"Gonna call your dog off?"

"Fraid I can't do that." Fraser gave him a wink and a slight smile. "Come on. Let's go watch some curling."

And Ray could do nothing but follow Fraser, put his trust in Fraser, put himself in Fraser's hands once more without any clear idea of how Fraser was going to fix things. But Fraser believed, and Ray believed in Fraser.

Fraser was handing Sandor money for the pizza when Ray despondently came through the door. Sandor gave him a sympathetic nod, then left. Ray flopped back on the couch that was in Thatcher's office. "Trust you, Fraser?" he asked again, unable to work up the energy to bring any emotion to his tone.

Looking up from where he was organizing the papers on Inspector Thatcher's desk, Fraser's expression was now almost entirely one of concern. "Yes, Ray." He left the papers and came over to sit down beside Ray. Hesitantly, he reached out to lay a hand on Ray's shoulder.

It was the gesture Ray had been waiting for all day. All the tension, the fear, the anger, the helplessness, seemed to explode within Ray, pushing him, trembling, against Fraser. The Mountie's arms came up, embracing him in their warm, steady strength - feeding Ray with a confidence that Ray hoped against hope wasn't misplaced. "It's going to be all right," Fraser murmured into Ray's ear, bringing one hand up to stroke through Ray's hair. "You have my word."

"That's good enough for me." Ray nipped at Fraser's earlobe as he spoke; he had never been quite so aware of Fraser as he was at that very minute - the softness of his hair, the vague soapy smell, the solidity and supportive strength of his body against Ray's. And with a realization that washed over him, driving away all his nervous panic in its wake, he understood that it really was enough for him - Fraser's word. If Fraser said it would be all right, then Ray could believe it would be all right.

"C'mon." He stood up off the couch, pulling Fraser by the arm.

Fraser's eyes were searching his face. "Where are we going, Ray?"

"Where d'you think? I don't intend to spend my last night of freedom watching Curling, Fraser." He dragged Fraser forward, the unexpected motion set the Mountie off balance, pulling him right into Ray's kiss. "Let's go to bed."

Fraser didn't immediately let him move, holding them tightly together. "Are you all right, Ray?"

"Yeah. Why not? I got you, don't I?" Neither could speak for a moment as Ray deepened the kiss, teasing Fraser's tongue with his own, holding Fraser's head against his. When he pulled back, gasping for air, Fraser was smiling.

"Of course you have me, Ray."

"Then come to bed."

They had never tried sleeping together in Fraser's cot - much less having sex in the narrow space - but Ray wasn't ready to let a little thing like that keep him from his Mountie man. They stretched out facing each other, Ray comfortably pressed between the wall and Fraser, their arms, legs, and tongues intertwined.

Fraser's sharp ears picked up a noise from the other room - he half sat up. "What is it?" Ray asked, tensing and on the alert.

"I think Diefenbaker found the pizza we left in the Inspector's office."

"More power to him. Come back here." Ray pulled Fraser back down.

Neither of them had the energy to quite work up to a passionate frenzy, but they were both finding strength in each other, comfort in their nearness. They made out like teenagers, kissing and touching, fighting for space in the confines of the narrow cot. Ray's hands were on Fraser's face, his shoulders, his chest. Fraser's body was relaxed and malleable against Ray's offering whatever Ray needed.

Ray knew what he needed, and simply couldn't wait for it any longer. "Fraser, I need to fuck you."

Fraser sucked in his breath at Ray's whispered words. "Yes, Ray, anything." Fraser shrugged out of his clothes while Ray rummaged in his desk for the lubricant he had started keeping there. Ray's clothes were much quicker to ditch, and he was ready, impatiently waiting as Fraser hung up his jacket and undid the last of the buttons of his long underwear.

The minute Fraser was naked, Ray jumped him, knocking him back onto the bed, covering his face and chest with kisses. Ray's cock was hard, dripping, and already slicked up. Fraser reached down and took a hold of it, giving it a couple gentle strokes. "Oh yeah, Fraser, oh yeah." Ray put his hand over Fraser's, helping the Mountie guide him in.

Ray thrust hard into Fraser, his hands pressed against Fraser's chest, his head down, his eyes closed. Fraser's hands were on his waist, his fingers digging into Ray's flesh; the Mountie was pulling Ray hard against him on every thrust.

When Ray came, it was a release of all the pressure and tension that had been building up all day. It drained him completely, emotionally and physically, leaving him collapsed on top of Fraser.

The Mountie pulled the blankets up over both of them, cradling Ray in his arms. "Thank you, Fraser, for everything you've done an all."

"You're very welcome, Ray." Fraser was stroking Ray's hair as Ray's head rested on Fraser's shoulder. "And I promise you it will be all right."

"I know, Fraser. I trust you." Ray had one hand resting on Fraser's chest; he could feel Fraser's breath warm against his temple. "An I don't know what I would have done without you today. You've been great."

"Thank you kindly, Ray." Fraser gently kissed Ray on the forehead. "You should get some sleep."

But Ray wasn't finished. "You know, I was...I was actually kinda scared today." Ray shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position where he could look at Fraser while he talked to him. "I mean, not really scared...just kinda." It was a difficult confession, but Ray felt the same need he had earlier that day to be completely honest with Fraser, to say everything that was on his mind.

Fraser continued to stroke Ray's hair, seeming undisturbed by either Ray's squirming or his confession. "It's all right, Ray. Everyone's afraid sometimes. It's perfectly normal."

"It's just, you know, um, to think I might have killed somebody, and might not know if I did - it's something I never had to deal with before, you know? And it's not an easy thing, you know?" He had wriggled down to where he was lying pressed against Fraser's side, an arm and a leg draped over Fraser, his head tilted up so he and Fraser were almost nose to nose.

"I know." Simple reassurance. "But I have faith in you; I know you; I know you would never just shoot someone like that."

Fraser looked so earnest - Ray could only take so much seriousness at one time. A sudden grin broke out on his face, and he licked Fraser on the nose. "Smile, Fraser - everything's going to be fine. Tell me it's going to be fine, Fraser."

Fraser's beautiful smile was reflected in his eyes as he looked down at Ray. "It's going to be just fine. Good night, Ray."

"G'night, Fraser." As he went to sleep, Ray could still feel Fraser's fingers, whisper-soft through his hair, soothing him into slumber. And he knew Fraser was right; everything was going to be fine.