Title: Damage

Author: necessary angel

Pairing: BF/RK

Rating: PG for bad words and m/m implications

Spoilers: Lots for Good for the Soul

Disclaimer: Not mine but I would give them a *really* good home.

Feedback: Yes please - necessary_angel@yahoo.com

Notes: I am not sure where this fragment came from, I saw GFtS again recently and it set me thinking.

This is set in the gap between the final events in Warfield's club and the Christmas party.

Many thanks to Megan for speedy, speedy beta.

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Damage

by

necessary angel

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Fraser's quiet.

Any other time I'd say too quiet but not tonight, this morning, what the fuck ever. We've been at the Station processing the results of our raid on Warfield's club for what seems like days.

I sneak a look at him as I pull up outside my apartment building. He'd not said a word when I headed towards my own ground rather than the Consulate. He hasn't said a word since we'd left the 27^th.

He's not angry. Hard to believe but whatever else is going on inside that freaky head of his, Fraser's not angry. In his shoes...boots I'd be spitting. If my partner had pulled back the way...if Fraser'd left me dangling bare assed ...well I'd be as far from fuckin' quiet as it is possible to get.

No matter whether it was my choice to highwire without a safety net and a target pinned to my back or not. That's not the point. That's not what partners do. That's not what Fraser and I do.

Not *what* Fraser does. The events of the last couple of days show just what I do.

He's not even moody, not remotely pissy or tightfaced. I switch off the ignition and turn so that I can look at him openly.

"Let's just go in Ray." His voice is as smooth as ever. I can just make out the little wry twist to his mouth.

"You got it."

I follow him into my building; my stomach spiraling and roiling around the lake of coffee that has kept me going today.

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"You were right Ray, you and Lieutenant Welsh."

Fraser is slumped on my couch, no trace of his usual military correct posture. His eyes are closed and he looks as old as I've ever seen him.

I swallow my mouthful of coffee, trying not to choke as it mixes with the air that wants to escape.

"What the fuck?"

I swallow again but this time it is just air that I'm trying to force down past the tightness in my throat.

"You were right." Fraser raises his head from the back of my couch and looks at me for the first time since we left the Precinct.

I put my coffee down on the kitchen counter, trying to stamp down on the white rush of anger, at the same time.

"What? I just don't get that."

My voice is as calm as I can get it but there is enough of a shake for my partner to really look at me this time. I fold my arms across my chest and wait for his answer.

Fraser stands and cracks his neck. He looks alive for the first time since I found him outside the club barely able to walk.

"You... I allowed..." He falters and looks at me, the crackle of energy fading. He is back to tired and battered.

"No. Fraze. Ben." I soften what threatens to become a shout. "We weren't... we were playing the system, working within the lines, inside the box."

"That's the real world, Ray." He is moving back to the couch like an old man.

"Don't make it right." I push my shaking legs into action and sit next to him.

"Maybe, but what did I really accomplish? You said yourself that Warfield's a killer and he is still out there, a free man."

"He'll get his." I put my hand on his arm.

Ben smiles faintly and puts his other hand over mine. "Do you really think that Ray?"

A subtle shadow of his normal starchy snarkiness in his voice and the hard lumps of fear in my stomach soften.

"No, maybe. Eventually."

I shrug at the skeptical look he shoots at me.

"So..."

"Not the point, Ben. You were right." I raise my hand and Ben closes his mouth with a little smirk. "Just bite on it for a sec. I need to...."

I'm on my feet now. My legs ache like I have been running for miles but I can't sit next to the tired heat of Ben's body any longer.

"I should have backed you. If I had they might not have beaten you six ways to..."

"Ray."

Ben's eyes are glinting but his voice is gentle.

"What?" I move closer, back to the couch.

"They would probably have beaten you as well. Lieutenant Welsh couldn't have provided the support we needed. Not initially, at least. That's the way it works. We both know that."

"So? What the fuck were you playing at?" I sit back down. My legs are far too shaky to take any more pacing.

"Tilting at windmills." That is definitely a smile on Ben's face.

"No, really?" I try to make my voice stern, but that smile ruins any chance I might have had.

"No-one expects me to play within the system. It isn't my system, not my game."

"And that makes all the difference." I slide closer to Ben. It's cold in my apartment and as usual he is radiating heat like a blast furnace.

"In this case."

The last word is lost behind a huge yawn. I tug at Ben's arm and nod towards the bedroom.

"Way past my bedtime. So we're good?"

"We're good. " Another jaw cracking yawn but the smile comes through in his eyes.

END